The spriggan very nearly steadied itself as it braced against the breeze, but then its bad leg gave out with an audible snap, and it fell backward into the darkness of the hole. Its furious cry lasted for several long seconds before it was cut short by a faint thump.
“I guess it isn’t bottomless,” whispered Cole.
“Oh crud, oh crud, oh crud,” said Fable. She lifted her eyes slowly from the pit to Cole. “So,” she said, “we should run.”
TWELVE
“An’ that, lad, is how Gripp Ap Mull used a crafty bargain, a turkey carcass, and an old boot ta wipe Brigalia off the map forever.” Kull tapped the incomprehensible chart behind him proudly.
“I’ve never even heard of Brigalia,” said Tinn, rubbing his eyes. “Where is that?”
“Otch! It isn’t! Were ya na paying attention ta a word of the story?”
“Sorry. It was a long story. I liked the part about the monkey.”
“Aye. Of course ya did. That’s the best bit.” Kull hummed as he rolled up the scrolls littering the cave floor.
“Goblish history is interesting and everything,” said Tinn. “And I had fun practicing my howls last night . . .”
“Yer makin’ fine progress there.”
“. . . but I was wondering if maybe we could work on transformations again.”
“Again? We were at it fer hours yesterday.”
“I know—it’s just . . . I want to be able to control it.”
Kull tossed up his hands. “Otch. Far too much time as a human.” He shook his head. “Goblins dinna control magic. That’s na the point o’ any of this. We give it a nudge now an’ again, an’ we let it do what it needs ta do. The universe knows what shape it wants ta be.”
“But I need to,” said Tinn.
“Hm.” Kull stalked over to the mouth of the cave and peered down at the choppy waters far below them. “Ya know how ta swim?”
“I don’t need swimming lessons, Kull, I need magic lessons.”
“I asked if ya know how ta swim.”
Tinn rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know how to swim. I learned when I was a little kid. We go swimming in a pond out by the quarry sometimes.”
“Then hop in.”
Tinn paused. “What?”
“Ya know how ta do it in a pond, so in ya pop. Go fer a swim.”
Tinn stepped up to the opening and peered down as the waves crashed against the rocks.
“I’m not jumping in there. That water is crazy.”
“Hm. Thought ya knew how,” said Kull. “Water’s water, na? Just make the water act like yer wee pond back home.”
“I know how to swim, not how to control the waters I’m swimming in.”
Kull smiled. He waggled his bristly eyebrows.
“Oh,” said Tinn. “Wait. Is that a metaphor?”
“Is it?” Kull sauntered back to hop up on his battered stool.
Tinn’s brow furrowed. “Okay. So, learning magic is like . . . learning how to swim,” he said. “And instead of controlling the magic—I’m just sort of letting it carry me. And all this practice is just teaching myself how to let it carry me in the way I want to go. Is that about it?”
Kull nodded. “Universe tends ta give us what we need when we need it. It’s our job ta catch the drift.”
Tinn nodded and then turned back to watch the waves for another minute. A motion to his right caught his attention and he leaned out. A short, skinny goblin in a leather skullcap was hurrying toward their cave along the rickety gangplank that hung from the face of the cliff. Several of the lower platforms had burst into life as well, goblins of all shapes and sizes erupting into a flurry of activity.
“Come on, then,” Kull said, sliding off his stool. “Let’s work on yer Goblish alphabet fer a bit, an’ then give transformation a try again after lunch.”
“I think something’s happening,” said Tinn.
Kull crossed the cave to Tinn’s side just as the skinny goblin sprang into view in front of them, panting.
“Kid’s gotta go,” she huffed. “Nudd’s orders.”
Kull and Tinn exchanged glances.
Chief Nudd was shouting commands at his lieutenants when Tinn and Kull reached the diplomatic chambers. A pair of stout goblins were jabbering as they hauled a broad oak table from one end of the cave to the other, catching its corners on every piece of furniture in the crowded room as they tried to rotate it. Half a dozen other goblins were zipping around them in a sort of busy panic that suggested that they probably had no idea what they were doing, but were not going to be caught sitting idly by not doing it. A scrawny whelp with knobby legs pushed past Tinn carrying a tray of glasses and bottles, and nearly lost the lot of them as he stumbled into the cave.
“Otch, ya drewgi!” Nudd barked at him. “Na the rum! Ya tryin’ ta cause a bloody incident wi’ that swill? Fetch the—the—oh, what’s it called? The red one—in the fancy bottle.”
“The one we use fer strippin’ rust?”
“Aye. That one. An bring the nice cups.”
The chief caught sight of Tinn and Kull for the first time. “Is he still here?”
“Of course he’s still here,” said Kull. “Got hours o’ lessons planned fer him yet.”
“My mom’s not gonna be back to pick me up until late,” said Tinn.
“Change o’ plans, I’m afraid. Kull here will have ta walk ya back home a bit early.”
“Am I in trouble?” said Tinn.
“Na. Touch o’ politics, is all. Unexpected meeting cropped up. An envoy of spriggans is due shortly, and the spriggan stance on human relations is—erm—rather old-fashioned.”
“Tinn is as much a goblin as the rest o’ us,” Kull bristled. “Should hear his howls. Right proud, I am.”
Nudd patted Tinn on the shoulder. “I’m sure yer comin’ along just fine, lad.
