Glittering Stone:
The Revenant

Goblin denied nothing. “She kept me alive somehow. She intended to use me. But she never did anything to me. I spent most of the time sleeping. Dreaming ugly dreams. Probably her dreams.”

The little wizard’s voice was barely a whisper. It husked. He seemed permanently on the verge of tears. The irrepressible spirit that had made him the Goblin of old seemed to have fled.

His audience did nothing to make him welcome or feel wanted. He was not welcome or wanted. He had spent four years sleeping with the Queen of Night, the Mother of Deceivers.

“She lives in the bleakest place you can imagine. It’s all death and corruption.”

“And madness,” Sahra added without looking up from the trousers she was mending.

Tobo asked, “Where’s the Lance?” Goblin had been asked before. The Lance of Passion was the soul of the Company. As much as the Annals did, it tied past and present together. It went all the way back to the Company’s departure from Khatovar. It had symbolic power and real power. It was a shadowgate key. And it was capable of causing a Goddess terrible pain.

Goblin sighed. “There’s nothing but the head left. Inside her, from when I stabbed her. She made it migrate through her flesh. She’s taken it into her womb.”

The Captain, obviously uncomfortable with this heathen talk, snapped, “Would any of you infidels care to explain that? Tobo?”

“I don’t know anything about religion, Captain. Not the practical stuff, anyway.”

“Anybody?”

None of the infidels had a thought.

Sleepy had a few. One was that Kina was not a real Goddess. Kina was just an incredibly powerful monster. All the Gunni Gods and Goddesses were nothing but powerful monsters. There was only one God . . . She continued staring at Goblin, wondering if he was worth believing, wondering if the best course was just to kill him. The silence stretched. Goblin remained immensely uncomfortable. As he should be, considering the circumstances and his limited ability to explain what had happened to him.

There was no way anyone would ever trust him.

The Captain said, “I have a thought, Tobo.”

Silence stretched again as the boy waited on her and she waited for him to ask what her thought was. Grown-up silliness.

Sahra said, “Why don’t we have Goblin go help Croaker with Khatovar? He’ll be more comfortable with his old friends, anyway.”

Sleepy gave her a dirty look. Then Tobo did the same. Sahra smiled, bit the thread she was using, put her needle away. “That’s done, then.”

Goblin’s froglike face had lost the little color that had survived his time underground. It lost all expression. The man within was trying hard to remain unreadable. In trying he gave away the fact that he did not want to join the expedition to Khatovar.

Maybe he just dreaded facing the forvalaka again.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” the Captain said. Coldly. “Croaker sent a raven whining for help. He has all those unpredictable soldiers and sorcerers headed his way. Goblin. You can still cut it, can’t you? Sorcery-wise? You haven’t lost the knack?”

The sad little wizard shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I’d have to try. Not that I would be any good against a real talent even on my best day. I never was.”

“It’s decided. You’ll take the Khatovar road. Everyone else. We’re done here. We’re moving out. Tobo, find the Chu Ming brothers. They’re going to go with Goblin.”

The news that movement was imminent spread quickly. The remaining troops were glad to hear it. They had stayed here in this uncomfortable, frightening place far too long while the higher-ups fussed about nothing. Rations were growing short, despite all the years of preparation.