'You have my word.'
That was all Rozt'a wanted from him. She ate her supper, shook sense into Tiep, then settled in her own blankets, her back toward the fire and, especially, Druhallen. Even Sheemzher noticed.
'Good woman angry with good sir.' A statement, not a question.
Dru grunted. He didn't want to talk to a goblin but, the way his luck had been going, conversation was inevitable. The dog-face creature wouldn't hear silence. He asked questions about the Heartland cities, about magic, about love. In desperation, Druhallen took control with questions of his own.
'If you were one of Ghistpok's goblins at Dekanter, how did you wind up with Lady Wyndyfarh in Weathercote Wood?'
'Long story, good sir.'
'I'm not going anywhere,' Dru gestured at the cave entrance where rain and runoff created a waterfall.
He began: 'Sheemzher brave. Sheemzher bold. Sheemzher warrior! Sheemzher make proud mothers, sisters, brothers. Sheemzher make all blood, all people proud.'
Dru suppressed a sigh. The goblin's way of speaking would make the tale longer than necessary, but a tale did slowly emerge.
Sheemzher had been born to privilege, such as it was, among Dekanter's goblins. Ghistpok hadn't claimed him as a son, but another elder had. As a child, he'd eaten regularly and learned how to fight. As best as Druhallen could discern, eating and fighting were a male goblin's third and fourth favorite activities. The top two pastimes were acquiring females and children. Sheemzher had done well there, too.
For services rendered, Ghistpok had given Sheemzher a daughter and Sheemzher had begotten himself six youngsters in four years.
'Elva good woman,' the goblin said of his wife. 'Twins twice. Very good woman. Not clever-' he clenched his hands into a single fist, a meaningful gesture, apparently, among goblins, but lost on Druhallen-'Elva very good woman. Sheemzher important man when Ghistpok die, Sheemzher elder. Sheemzher help choose Ghistpok. With good woman Elva, Sheemzher someday maybe Ghistpok. Maybe. Sheemzher hope then, not now.' He lowered his head, the very image of sadness.
Druhallen asked, 'What happened to your wife?'
Sheemzher spat out a word then translated it: 'Takers. Take people. Take Elva. Never more seen.'
'Your wife was caught by slavers and taken away from Dekanter?' Amarandaris had insisted that Ghistpok sold his own children, though, in Elva's case, the Ghistpok who sold her probably wasn't the one who fathered her.
Sheemzher shook his head vigorously. 'Takers… demons… from below. Never see, only take. Long ago Ghistpok say: 'Beast Lord protect all people from Takers.' Beast Lord say, 'Each and all people make worship.' Ghistpok promise, 'People make worship.' People worship Beast Lord then, now. Beast Lord protect people. Sometime Beast Lord sleep, not protect people. Takers come. Take people. Take Elva.'
Druhallen steepled his hands and stared into the fire. Amarandaris had said, Things started changing about seven years ago. How old was Sheemzher? Goblins weren't long-lived, thirty or forty years, at the most. Had Sheemzher been at Dekanter when the changes came? Had he lost his wife to them?
'Have you ever seen the Beast Lord, Sheemzher?' he asked.
The goblin shook his head. 'Ghistpok see Beast Lord. Ghistpok only. People worship Beast Lord. People drink wine, much wine. People not see anything. People happy.' Sheemzher's expression contradicted his words. 'Sheemzher happy. Sheemzher drink much, much wine. Too much wine. Sheemzher head big.' He pressed his palms against his temples. 'Bigger inside. Sheemzher think, Sheemzher never more drink wine. Sheemzher dance, yes. Sheemzher sing, yes. Sheemzher keep promise. Sheemzher never more drink wine. Sheemzher pretending drink wine.'
Dru clapped the goblin on the shoulder. 'Sheemzher is clever. I know too many men who can't keep that promise.'
The goblin shook his head sadly. 'Sheemzher not clever. Come one time, next time, Sheemzher pretending. All people fall down. Sheemzher pretending fall down. Elva fall down beside Sheemzher; Elva not pretending. Elva stand up. Elva walk away. Sheemzher stand up. Sheemzher follow.' He looked up into Druhallen's eyes. 'Bad, good sir. Bad. Bad. Bad. Sheemzher remember. Sheemzher not want remember.'
With Druhallen's gentle prodding, the goblin described how he followed his wife and several other goblins underground. His wife and the others never recovered their wits. Mindless, they joined a colony of equally unresponsive goblins who served the Takers. Brave and bold warrior that he was, Sheemzher planned to rescue his wife, but before he came up with a plan it was too late. The Takers took Elva again, this time to an underground chamber with an egg in it.
'Egg big-' Sheemzher shaped the largest oval his arms could manage in the air between himself and Druhallen. 'Elva here.' He indicated the bottom portion of the oval. 'Mantis here.' He indicated the top. 'Doors close… bang… bang… bang! Sheemzher hide. Sheemzher scared. Come lightning under Dekanter. Sheemzher think Sheemzher never more scared then doors open… bang… bang… bang! Elva gone. Mantis gone. Demon come… Taker.'
'Then I was right-someone-the Beast Lord-is transforming the Dekanter goblins, changing them into the creatures you've been calling demons. When did this happen, Sheemzher? When did-?'
The goblin couldn't contain himself. 'No,' he insisted. 'No. Never. Taker. Taker demon, not Beast Lord. Beast Lord not demon. Takers take Elva. Elva inside egg. Elva gone. Demon come-not Elva. Not. Not. Not! Elva gone. Elva not demon. Beast Lord not Taker.'
The truth, which Druhallen could see so clearly, wasn't worth the argument. 'How does Lady Wyndyfarh fit in?' he asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.
'Sheemzher find more mantis in box. Many mantis. One mantis say: Take me to Lady Wyndyfarh. Take me to Weathercote Wood. Sheemzher take. Good lady listen Sheemzher. Good lady listen mantis. Good lady say: Stay with me Sheemzher and I will give you vengeance. It is too late to save Elva, but together we will save your children from the Takers.'
'And us? My friends and I?'
'Good lady not leave forest very far. Greater lady not allow. Good lady obey greater lady, yes. Dekanter far, too far. Good lady not go Dekanter. Good lady say, good men will come in due time, Sheemzher. You must wait for them in the village and after they come, lead them to me. Sheemzher say, how know good men? Good lady say, you'll know him by what he does. Sheemzher wait six years. Six years too long. Sheemzher children grown. Six years make Sheemzher very much wiser. Sheemzher learn read. Sheemzher learn write. Sheemzher learn listen. Parnast little-all talk, Sheemzher listen. Zhentarim know good sir come. Zhentarim know why. Sheemzher listen. Sheemzher alone. Sheemzher not sure. Good sir save child; Sheemzher sure. Sheemzher very much sure, yes?'
'It couldn't have been planned,' Dru muttered, thinking of the chicken coop. 'All this because of an accident- the right place at the right time, or the wrong place and the wrong time.'
Sheemzher shook his head solemnly. 'Not accident. Good lady say, good men will come. Good lady never wrong.'
'Then your lady shouldn't have mind-locked Galimer!' Druhallen said abruptly.
'Sheemzher sorry. Sheemzher very much sorry. Gold-hair man good man. Sheemzher wish gold-hair man here.'
'But not Tiep, right? He sees through magic; he saw through you and your lady. What went on between you two in Weathercote after we killed the reaver? I've heard his side. He thinks you've arranged everything. Exactly how much did you set up?' Calling Sheemzher clever was neither a lie nor an exaggeration. Beneath the garbled language was a mind as devious as any man's.
The goblin made his double-fist gesture again. 'Dekanter no place for that one. Dekanter bad place for that one. Sheemzher think, that one not come Dekanter. That one stay Weathercote. Good lady help that one, teach that one. Sheemzher make mistake. Gold-haired man come between that one, good lady. Sheemzher very sorry. Sheemzher sorry for gold-hair man. Sheemzher sorry for good sir, good woman. Sheemzher sorry for Sheemzher.'
'If you'd been honest-' Dru stopped himself. Cut was cut and they were days beyond useful hindsight. 'This scroll we're supposed to bring back to Wyndyfarh, where does it fit in?'
'Egg top, good sir.'
