In The Coils Of The Snake (15 page)

He stretched out
beside his unconscious bride and put an arm over her. The slender elf girl
cringed away from him in her sleep.
Her
whole body was still trembling with shock. Tired and dejected,
the King
closed his eyes and fell asleep with a sigh.

• • •

Arianna awoke from a
ghastly nightmare into an even worse one. She lay perfectly still, remembering
where she was, studying what
she could see
of the square cave. The goblin King was sleeping, his
breath stirring
her hair and his terrible paw-hand stretched across her body. She remembered
the stories she had heard as a small girl
about
the hideous goblin monster, Lionclaw, who had used his paw
to slash
elves to ribbons.

But
Arianna didn’t shiver or shove the paw away. Such a movement would wake him up,
and at all costs, she mustn’t do that. Very
gently, very carefully, she wove whispered words around
the enemy
King, something between a spell and a
fervent wish. She felt his
body relax from
sleep into a further oblivion, and then she cautiously crept from the bed. On
the couch lay her elf clothes. She tore the stiff
goblin dress off and
hurriedly changed into them. In a very short
time,
she was out the door. It wasn’t that Arianna intended to escape. She knew she
couldn’t do that. She just meant to be as far as possible
from her terrible husband when he awoke. It would
take him a little
while to find her.

Out
here, the light was almost blinding. Twisting tunnels met
her bewildered view, and she chose passages with no
particular plan.
Some led into small
rooms full of sacks and boxes. Others led to
steps.
Finding that she was on the lowest level of the caves, she began
to
climb. The farther she went, the shinier the walls were, and the more the light
hurt her eyes.

Now
she was dodging monsters, creeping behind them, ducking
into
rooms and alcoves to avoid them. The ranges of steps were broader, and the
hallways were wider, decorated in bright colors of stone. Arianna opened a door
and shrieked. She had walked into a nest of goblin young. She backed up and
then ran, hearing their growls and squeals as they poured out of the room to
follow her.

Giddy and short of
breath, she dashed up a flight of stairs and
found
herself face-to-face with a whole crowd of goblins. She turned,
but more monsters were coming up the stairs
behind her. Her stom
ach cramped, and she clutched the wall, sick and
dizzy. Deformed
bodies pressed around her
in a mob, and she closed her eyes to avoid
the sight. The babble
deafened her, and her knees buckled. She sat down abruptly on the stairs.

A curious noise came
to her through the gathering confusion in her brain, and she felt that snake
from last night on her shoulders again. This time Arianna peeked at it. Slitted
golden eyes met her
gaze not four inches
away: the metal snake was staring straight at her.
She promptly closed her eyes again. Now she heard
it speaking in a
loud, clear, slithering hiss, stringing together words
that she didn’t understand. The babble quieted, and she heard a bumping,
rustling
noise as the crowd drew away. She
laid her head on her knees, trying
not to faint.

After a few minutes,
she became aware that she was feeling
stronger.
She wasn’t as lightheaded and sick. The crawly feeling was gone, and apparently,
was the snake. Then she heard an unfamil
iar voice.

“The stars are
beautiful,” it said.

Arianna was so
astonished that she opened her eyes and sat up.
The ghastly mob had vanished. Only one goblin stood at the bottom

of
the stairs now, about ten feet away. He was man-shaped and silver-
skinned, with black hair and blue eyes. Odd markings
covered
his face.

“The stars are
beautiful,” he said again.

Arianna
drew in a shaky breath and looked around, grateful that
the crowd was gone. She gave a start at the sight of a
golden coil on
her bare arm. The
snake! But when she felt it, nothing was there. It was one of the goblin King’s
enchantments.

The
bizarre silver man still stood at the foot of the stairs. Arianna
eyed
him warily. His black cloak was mud-stained and ripped in
several places, and he had a few leaves stuck in
his hair. It raised her
spirits to see them in that lifeless place. He
was shifting his weight
awkwardly from foot
to foot as he watched her. It dawned on her that
he looked nervous.

“The
moon are beautiful,” he stated seriously.
“Is
beautiful,”
he
added in an embarrassed undertone.

That
was it, she realized in relief. This goblin knew a little of her
language.
He was just trying to say something polite so that she
would know he meant her no harm. But he was obviously supposed
to
watch her until the goblin King could take custody of her again.
Her temporary respite would soon be over. She put
her head on her
knees and closed her eyes, gathering her courage.

There
was a long pause. Then she heard steps coming near. She
cowered,
but they retreated, and the goblin spoke again.

“Water is—”
he hesitated “—is good.”

Arianna
opened her eyes. He was still at the bottom of the stairs,
but
now a metal cup was on the step beside her. She picked it up. Cool water. She
drank thirstily.

“Thank you,”
she said to the man.

Then
he
was
coming. She could hear his loud, heavy steps ringing on the stone. He appeared
at the foot of the stairs with another
black-draped monster and quickly came to her side.
She shut her
eyes and dropped the cup, flattening herself against the wall. Another
wave of nausea rolled over her.

Catspaw assessed the
condition of his bride. Her breathing was
uneven,
and she looked unwell. He laid his paw on the elf girl’s foreh
ead to
work a strengthening spell.

“My people didn’t
mean to distress you,” he told her. “They’re
very curious about you, and they didn’t realize that they would make
you
ill by coming close. What you’re feeling is a normal aspect of your elvish
magic. We call it the fear sickness. It will wear off in a few days.”

The
girl ignored him, keeping her eyes closed. The goblin King
reminded himself that he shouldn’t expect anything else at
this
point. He turned to
give an order to the two guards who stood on the
landing
below. Then he stopped in surprise.

“What are you
doing here, Tattoo?” he exclaimed.

Tattoo
delivered his report to his monarch, feeling uneasily that it
did
not present him in the most flattering light. He related the conversation
between Miranda and the elf in the truce circle and his
own capture up in the tree. Marak Catspaw was absolutely furious.

“Call Seylin,”
he ordered the other guard, and soon the hand
some
adviser appeared. Tattoo delivered his report again, even more
uncomfortable
this time.

“Why did he do
it?” demanded Catspaw angrily. “It’s perfectly
obvious. He intends to use Miranda to take revenge
on me because I
claimed his fiancee.
You saw how he had Arianna hidden, hoping I
wouldn’t notice her. He
meant to trick me into claiming one of the
five
inferior choices; then it would have been too late to change
my mind.”

“Maybe
he felt sorry for Miranda,” proposed Seylin. “Maybe he
wanted to be sure
she couldn’t carry out her suicide attempt.”

“He
knew she couldn’t kill herself. He knew she was under
guard. And he attacked that guard, in violation of the
treaty. He was
waiting for him!”

Seylin
turned over the facts in his mind. “It doesn’t make sense,”
he
reflected.

“It does make
sense,” snapped Catspaw. “That elf is being vin
dictive. You saw what he did to Mother just
because she’d been the
goblin King’s Wife. I still mean to honor my part
of the treaty, regardless of his behavior. We’re sending him the first spell book
tonight, but make sure it contains no
military magic. Deliver it your
self and insist on Miranda’s return. I
want her back in the kingdom as soon as possible.”

“Certainly,”
responded Seylin. “Goblin King, I think you’re scaring your wife.”

Catspaw
turned to study the girl who sat beside him on the stair.
Arianna was looking from one to the other of them with
anxious
eyes. Of course, he thought. He had been
speaking in goblin. She couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“Don’t be
alarmed,” he said to her. “I know I sound angry, but
I’m not angry at you. We were consulting about a
kingdom matter.”
The elf’s
expression didn’t change. He might as well not have spoken.
She had the
fixed, desperate look of a wild animal caught in a trap.

Marak
Catspaw irately considered how pleasant his life had been
just
one week ago and how much of a mess it was in now: a guard
attacked, his ward stolen, and brides switched on
his wedding night.
He had been
lamenting not long before how boring his reign would
be because the goblin King lacked any real
opposition. Now he was beginning to have the uncomfortable feeling that he had
found a real
opponent at last.

Miranda woke up confused, unable to place where she was.
She
opened her eyes to find herself in a little
tent and a man sitting beside
her, watching her with interest. Alarmed,
she lay quite still and
glanced around
anxiously. She wished that he weren’t so handsome.
He made it hard for
her to think. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“Good evening,”
he said. “You slept well.”

“Evening!”
echoed Miranda. “I want to see the sunrise.” That
was what was wrong: it was already darker than it
had been seemi
ngly just a minute before.

She
closed her eyes as one awful memory after another besieged
her.
Today should be her first day as a King’s Wife, but she would
never have the prestige and acclaim she had worked
for. Her future
was dead, just as
dead as her guardian, as dead as she ought to be.

“You
don’t look a thing like an elf,” commented Nir. “No elf
has
brown eyes like a deer’s, and you’re not small like our women are, but you’re
beautiful anyway. I didn’t know that was possible. I thought the only beautiful
humans were humans who looked like the elves.”

“Blame it on
Marak,” she muttered. “He was always working spells on me when I was
young.”

The elf lord
considered this information. “Did the goblin King give you your red hair?”
he wanted to know. “No elf has red hair. I’ve never seen hair like yours.”

“I don’t have
red hair!” exclaimed Miranda, dislodged for the
moment from her sorrow. She opened her eyes to find the elf study
ing
her in surprise.

“Of
course it’s red,” he replied. “Why argue about such a thing?”
Miranda closed her
eyes again, depressed beyond words. It was already growing dark. The elf lord
continued to look at her, in no
hurry to
leave the tent. It was still too bright out to suit him.
“What’s
your name.” he asked.

“Miranda,”
she replied.

“Miranda!”
he exclaimed in horror. “That’s ghastly! Nothing
but
a goblin’s trick!”

This unexpected
outburst goaded her out of depression again.
She
had never been one to dwell on misfortune, and it was apparent
that she
wouldn’t get the chance now. She sat up and began folding the green cloak that
had served as her blanket, determined to make
herself
behave sensibly. She didn’t want this stranger to discover how
hopeless
and forlorn she felt.