Chapter Three
“Salis, that goblin’s back.” Kaeda scowled at the creature standing square in the center of the healer’s tent. It stared at her with big, deep-set eyes nearly lost in the shadow of its sloping brow and big bulbous nose. Occasionally it would flick its tongue out and lick its lipless mouth. “You don’t think it’s going to try and steal anything, do you?”
Salis leaned around the partition. “Is it sick?”
“It won’t talk to me.”
Salis sighed. “Kaeda. Use your skills to find out what he wants.”
“It’s a ‘he’?”
The older woman groaned and disappeared behind the hanging partitions that divided the tent in two. Shelves lined the sides of the tent, laden with jars and bottles and sachets of potions, medicines, and remedies. The entire tent smelled of herbs, spices. Kaeda inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of cinnamon and clove.
And goblin. He had a musty odor, like clothes kept in a chest too long.
Kaeda’s hand rose to her crystal pendant unconsciously. She fondled it out of habit as she closed her eyes and tasted the air around the goblin with the tiny, delicate strands of the magical matrix that surrounded her. Once she made contact, she opened her eyes.
She shivered. Touching him with her mind reminded her of touching the slippery, slimy frogs in the pond at the bottom of the meadow. She squeezed her pendant tighter, so tightly the chiseled edges dug into her palm. Tell me, she whispered to the gentle feyne her blood contained.
The goblin was hungry and dirty, but what goblin wasn’t hungry or dirty? She cast about, yet could find no physical illness, nor any mental deficit, other than his goblin-ness.
She gave up and let her net melt away. “What do you want?” she asked, exasperated.
“What your name?” he whined, finally.
“Kaeda. What’s yours?”
“Vezo. You Keyholder?”
“You old for being a training-child. Way too old. You got wrinkles like bag.”
Kaeda groaned. Even goblins tormented her about her age and her status. She was only a couple of years older than most of the students at the Holding! “I was a late bloomer. And I don’t have wrinkles.”
Vezo’s black eyes sparkled. “You look closer in mirror, then. I know sick man. He need medicines. Pretty hand to give medicines to him, too.”
“You’ll have to speak to Salis.” Vezo’s face contorted into what Kaeda could only assume was a smile. “Just tell your sick man to come to in and we’ll fix him,” she said.
The goblin turned and waddled out of the tent. Kaeda followed him to the opening and peered out. She followed his progress with her eyes until he got lost in the growing crowd. Strange.
But this was the Faire, and people and races of all kinds appeared. Even so, seeing a goblin out and about was unusual. Very few goblins lived in the Northlands. They were vile King Ceron’s footsoldiers.
“I hope he doesn’t come back.”
Kaeda busied herself with taking inventory again, just to drown out the depressing feeling of worthlessness that welled up within her.
“Kaeda!” Salis called her from the bowels of the tent. “Bring the spritebane and clean bandages!”
Grateful for the distraction, Kaeda gathered the required ingredients and scurried into the back, the goblin and his odd behavior nearly forgotten.