and drinking their tea. The hidalgo collected his own bowl of steaming gray mush from his host and said, “I’m heading up into the mountains today. Do you suppose you could ride with me to help me find the trails? We’d be back by nightfall, and I can pay you for your time.”
The old man grinned. “I’d love to, young sir, but I’m afraid my riding and hiking days are behind me.” He reached down and knocked on his wooden leg. “Where exactly are you looking to go?”
Lorenzo produced his journal from his jacket pocket and flipped to the page with the silk bookmark. He scanned the page. “Here. I want to take a look at the north face of Pic Blanco.”
The old man frowned. “Pic Blanco. You want to look at the old silver mine? No one goes out there anymore. Not since they shoved that Mazigh demon into the mine.”
“Demon?”
“Steam drill. It was supposed to make us all rich. All it did was collapse one of the best silver veins in the area, and the only thing of value on Pic Blanco. But that was thirty years ago.”
Lorenzo nodded. “So no one knows the area now?”
The man shrugged. “Well, you could always ask the goblin queen.”
A smattering of chuckles rose from the men eating their breakfast. Lorenzo glanced at them and then asked his host, “What do you mean, goblin queen?”
“He means my sister,” said a voice behind him.
The man winced. “Sorry, Nina, I didn’t know you were there.”
Lorenzo turned to see a woman in the doorway about his own age dressed in heavy, dirty leathers. Her black hair was tied up in a careless bun to reveal a face that was no doubt quite beautiful before the years working underground had etched the lines around her eyes and mouth so deeply. The hidalgo stood up as she entered the room and he saw she was as tall as him, and when she tossed her coat on the bench to get her breakfast, he saw the muscles of her arms straining against her threadbare shirt.
“Your sister?”
“My little sister Mirari. She lives in the old silver mine, or what’s left of it. The number six shaft where the steam drill burst apart and collapsed the tunnel.”
He moved closer to her and lowered his voice. “I don’t mean to pry, but why do they call her the goblin queen?”
“It was a hard birth. Mirari’s head was too large and she almost didn’t make it out alive. Her ears were mangled and they healed badly.”
“That’s all? She has misshapen ears?”
“Well, that, and she’s not quite right in the head. Talks to herself.”
Lorenzo chewed his lip. “I see. Well, maybe you can help me. You seem to know the area.”
“Not especially,” Nina said. “I’ve never been past the silver mine, certainly not to the north face. Are you looking for another ore vein?”
“Something like that. Then do you think your sister can help me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Sure, Mirari’s the one you want. Don’t worry, she’s not dangerous. Just a little odd, that’s all, which was more than most folks around here could stand.”
Lorenzo went back to the room to wake the others. He’d only meant to collect Alonso and tell the others where he was going, but they all got up, dressed, and ate breakfast with every intention of joining him.
“You’ve already ruined my holiday and nearly killed me a dozen times,” Dante muttered to no one in particular. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss out on this treasure hunt of yours. It’ll probably be the only profitable thing about this whole disaster.”
The miner woman introduced herself as Nina Velasquez, a prospector with three stakes on the east face of Pic Verde, where she would be returning in a few weeks when the weather began to warm. Shahera instantly struck up a conversation with her about life in the mountains, mining disasters, and the harsh winters in the Pyrenees.
When everyone was ready to go, they followed Nina on foot along a thin winding track up into the hills above Yesero, quickly climbing into the rocky ravines where sheer cliff faces peered down at them from their snowy crags.
“How did they ever get a steam drill up here?” Taziri asked.
“In pieces,” Nina answered.
The ravine widened into a small box canyon. A huge black hole in the north wall gaped at them, its stone jaws propped open by ancient frozen timbers set there decades ago by the first miners to strike the silver vein. From the mouth of the tunnel a thin trickle of bright water traced a meandering path across the stone floor and vanished into a crack on the far side of the gully.
“Mirari!” Nina peered into the mine. Over her shoulder she said, “I hope she’s home.”
Lorenzo frowned at the tunnel. What sort of person would choose to live in a cave? “Look, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I do have an old map and I doubt this mountain has moved around much recently, so I think we’ll just find our own way.”
A faint whisper of a voice echoed up from the tunnel. “Nina?”
“It’s me,” Nina said. “I have some visitors for you.”
“Visitors?”
In the darkness of the mine, Lorenzo saw a shadow move. The figure shambled and tottered as it came forward to the edge of the light. The cold air caught in his throat.
She has horns.
Huge ram’s horns curled on either side of her head.
Horns. Nina said mangled ears. She said ears, not horns. What in God’s name is going on?
The figure stepped out into the light and the horns snapped into focus, as did the filthy sheepskin draped over the girl’s head. Lorenzo exhaled and blinked, and grinned his embarrassment away. A quick look at Alonso told him that he wasn’t on the one who had thought of the old fairy tales of iron imps and spirits in the earth.
The girl stumbled out of the mine with a yawn and a stretch. “It’s so early.”
“Morning’s half over.” Nina embraced her sister. “Are you eating all right?”
Mirari nodded. “I found a sheep. He slipped on the rocks and fell. His belly burst when he landed. I ate him.”
Nina nodded thoughtfully as she lifted the ragged skin and horns from the girl’s head. “I see that.”
Mirari leaned around her sister’s shoulder to look at her visitors, and quickly hid behind Nina again. “They’ll see me. See my ears. Will they hit me?”
“No, no, sweetie, they won’t hit you. They came to ask for your help. They want to see your mountain.”
Mirari peeked out again. “There’s a boy, Nina.”
Nina glanced back. “What’s your name?”
Alonso blinked. “Who me? Alonso. My name’s Alonso Ramos de Zaragoza. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“His name is Alonso, and he’s a very nice boy, and he needs your help,” Nina said. “Can you help them? Just show them the paths and trails for a few hours, that’s all. Can you do that? They’ll pay you and then you can buy some food and new clothes.”
“Can’t buy food, can’t buy clothes,” the girl stammered. “They hit me.”
“Shh, never mind that, I’ll buy them for you. Will you help Alonso and his friends?”
“No, he’ll see me!”
Lorenzo sighed. “Miss Velasquez, I appreciate your trying to help, but we do need to be moving on.” He strode across the gravel floor of the gully toward the two sisters. “I give you my word as a hidalgo and as a faithful servant of God that no harm will come to you as long as you are with us.” He froze. Now standing only a few feet away, he could see the girl’s face clearly. Before he had thought the strange hue of her skin had been a trick of the light, a glint from the stone walls and gleaming ice. But it wasn’t a trick at all.
She was silvery blue.
“Her face,” he whispered.
Nina looked at him. “She’s been drinking the water in the mine. I told her not to, but she did. Has been for years. It’s the silver in the water that dyes the skin.”
The hidalgo nodded. He could see the twisted and pointed tip of the girl’s right ear, too, but that seemed the least of her strangeness.
