Page 14

“T he mountain made all this?” Julep looked at the huge mushroom they stood under. Creamy white and delicate, sunlight shown through the cap, illuminating the gills. She touched the cool stone stem, awed. “It's beautiful.”

A small stream wound through the park, decorated with ferns and mossy rocks. A little bridge arched over the stream, perfect for watching the silver fish.

Artur patted the mushroom stem. “This mushroom is the original. We give the mountain credit for it, although it's possible it grew on its own. Unlikely, but the wild magic does occasionally do interesting things.

“Our mages and craftsmen made the rest. If it had been a real mushroom, it would have spores. No one would be able to breathe.”

Goblins strolled by, often in pairs or families. Her eyes lingered on a mother with two small children. She felt a small pang. Adopt, huh? Maybe one day. She looked at her husband speculatively.

Unaware of her interesting thoughts, Artur continued the tour.

“This stream is glacier fed. We have a series of troughs and pipes that collect runoff and feed water to the city.

Sometimes interesting things wash down. I'll take you to the museum sometime and show you the exhibits.

It's fascinating what lurks in the dark lakes.”

She pictured the cold lakes high up the mountain and shivered. She could easily believe they were full of monsters.

“You'll probably like the Starry Market. It's the market inside the mountain, and it's very popular during the storm season. The museum is inside.”

Julep looked at him thoughtfully. There was a lot more to goblins than she'd realized.

“What is it?” he asked, amused by her speculative appraisal. He was enjoying himself. He couldn't recall the last time he had taken the time just to show someone around. It was a welcome change of pace.

“You know, most humans think goblins are nothing but war machines,” she said carefully, gauging his reaction. “But there is all this.” She waved her arm to indicate the beautiful park.

“That's what we want outsiders to think,” he said mildly. “People who live in our settled cities learn differently.”

Julep looked into the distance. She was quiet for some time. “When I was 15, I escaped with my family from a goblin attack on our town.”

He waved her to a bench and gave her his full attention. Clearly, this was going to be a lengthy conversation.

She sat with a sigh. “It was night, and we were lucky to escape with the clothes on our backs.

“Thankfully, it was summer. We found a spot in a small canyon by a stream. It turned out Dad had been paranoid. He'd stashed a few things just in case.” She paused for a long moment. It was difficult to relive the past.

“The stream had fish, and more importantly, gold. We camped out that summer, and Dad cautiously traded the nuggets, not wanting to be robbed. He had a couple of close calls, but he was healthy and fast in those days.

“We found a new house in another town. Dad slowly built up the family home. In later years, he became less cautious. Losing mom and becoming sick himself changed his priorities. His family realized he had money.” She scowled. Thinking of her uncle made her angry all over again.

“My uncle visited, but my dad made it plain he didn't like him. He went away, but he kept tabs on us. I imagine he was delighted when he knew dad was dying.” She didn't want to talk about those dark days.

The memories of her father's long illness still hurt.

She decided to skip to the important parts.

“I had already thought of leaving, and the goblin visitor was the last straw. Probably I left it until too late. I might have gotten away if I left earlier.” She felt gloomy just thinking about it. If she'd been more decisive, she could have avoided so much frustration and pain.

“And after all that, you still stopped to help me. That's impressive,” Artur marveled. He looked thoughtful.

She stared at him, confused. It wasn't the reaction she expected.

“Why did you help your enemy? I would have left me to die.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Blame my father. He believed in mercy.”

“Your father didn't rescue me.”

She frowned. “In a way, he did. You never did anything to me. I felt you deserved a chance.”

“What if I had been horrible? What if I attacked you?” he demanded.

She scowled. “I have the right to defend myself, and I would have. That's what I would have done. It wouldn't have been hard to kill you in your condition.”

“ Can you kill someone?” he asked skeptically.

She looked at him in surprise. “Just because I'm merciful, doesn't make me weak.”

He studied her, sizing her up. “I will keep that in mind.”