“A wraith?” Gretchen frowned.
“Intolerable creatures. Difficult to work with and unpredictable.” Mandell sagged. “But we keep one on the books, as it were. For these kinds of situations.”
Gretchen’s eyes widened as the goblins’ muttering turned to screeching, and they began pushing and shoving each other. Mandell pulled a goatskin from his belt and threw it in their direction. They squabbled only moments longer before uncorking it and holding it over expectant mouths. Mandell barked a laugh.
“Goblins, on the other hand, are much simpler to work with.” Viragh unfolded himself from the floor, and his great taloned foot pressed into the fire which had burned down to coals. He stamped out the last of the glowing embers and arched his back with a yawn.
“Seeing the sunshine will be nice after being cooped up for days.”
“Raining, I’m afraid.” Mandell pursed his lips. “But the Prince has gone on a hunting trip, so we must make haste if we are to arrive ahead of him.”
“If this is all a ruse, like you say,” Gretchen waved her arm, “then how are we supposed to leave without coming to the entire kingdom’s notice?”
Mandell’s face lit up and his brows drew together with a conspiratorial grin.
“The way we came, of course.” With a flourish, he drew a crystal from a pocket secreted in his coat, which glowed blue.
“What in tarnation? Is that what I think it is?” Gretchen held a hand to her mouth.
“A portal stone.” Viragh broke up the pile of goblins who had drained the goatskin. At the sight of the stone, they climbed the dragon’s tail to perch on his back.
“I’ve only ever read about those things. Worth a damn fortune.” Gretchen’s eyes narrowed. “If you have enough coin to be cruising around with one of those, why are we sticking our necks out for the gentry?”
Mandell chuckled as he took Gretchen by the elbow and pulled her toward Viragh’s head. She scarcely had time to scoop her hat from the floor before Mandell got a hand on an ear and the searing blue light washed away the castle dungeon.
It burned, blinded, and tickled just a little in the space in between. Gretchen feared she would lose the breakfast she never got to eat as she spun in an endless vortex. By the time she realized what had happened, she hit the ground with a grunt the wind knocked from her lungs.
“Am I?” Gretchen winced, unable to move. “I’m dead, aren’t I? “The weight on top of her trembled in a familiar rhythm, and she felt the bite of sharp scales against her face. She groaned as the weight shifted and lifted off her.
Gretchen blinked against the rain that took its place. Above her was the substantial shape of a dragon’s rear end. She curled her lip and took a tentative sniff.
“Of all the places to end up. Suffocation by dragon butt.” She shook her head and pushed herself to her feet. “What an undignified way to travel, I’d prefer to take the broom, and that’s saying something.”
She wiped the water from her face and looked around for the others, ignoring Viragh’s self-satisfied chuckle. They appeared to be in some kind of clearing, and the goblins lay sprawled on the grass giggling maniacally and kicking their legs. Mandell pushed himself to his feet a few yards away and held his ribs with a wince.
“Not the most comfortable mode of travel, but it has its benefits.” He pointed toward a barn near the tree line with crudely cut fences hemming a few horses in. “Our headquarters, if you will.”
Gretchen squinted, holding her hand up against the rain which seemed to cut in on a horizontal angle. A stone dwelling stood by the barn, almost melting into the drab landscape. The welcome sight of smoke billowing from the chimney sent a shiver through her already-sodden shoulders. Viragh ambled toward the barn sending tremors through the ground which set Gretchen’s teeth on edge.
“Come along, now. The goblins will take care of themselves.” Mandell waved her on.
Gretchen spared a glance to the creatures, now muddy, as they rolled around in fits of glee as she trudged across the clearing. She wondered absently at who would find them intimidating and decided they must be there for their aesthetics. Thunder boomed overhead, and Gretchen jumped before picking up the pace.
As she drew near, she noted the stone cottage was a fair size, but nowhere near big enough to cater to Viragh’s bulk. The doors to the barn swung open to his approach, and he ducked his head as he crawled inside. Given the horses in the pen didn’t so much as lift their heads from their hay, Gretchen figured that was his usual haunt.
“So, this ‘troupe’ of yours,” she nodded toward the barn, “you get a lot of business?”
Mandell chuckled. “We do a fine trade. From damsels in distress, to epic threats to kingdoms when a monarch is out of favor.”
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Nice.”
Mandell crossed the threshold to the cottage, and Gretchen stumbled in after him hugging her arms against the cold. The enveloping warmth of the kitchen with a roaring fire was welcome, and she sank onto a bench by a large table.
“About time.” A rotund woman by the fire waved a spoon. “If I had to ‘entertain’ that man a moment longer, I’d have crawled into the fire and been done with it. A face like a cat’s caboose if you ask me—”
“Yes, yes, Mrs. Hughes.” Mandell held up his hand in supplication. “We all appreciate your fine hospitality. We shall be on our way this afternoon, and he will rejoin the Prince’s party.”
Mrs. Hughes harrumphed and narrowed her eyes. “And I suppose you’ll be wanting breakfast?”
“Please.” Mandell flashed a winning smile which seemed to soften her.
Gretchen cleared her throat, and Mrs. Hughes glanced at her then back to Mandell.
“Found a replacement witch, I see.”
“A replacement?” Gretchen frowned. “What happened to the last one?”
Mandell waved his arm as if it were of no consequence. “She departed the company some time ago. Witches aren’t much called for, but the Queen saw your little advertisement and insisted on you, personally.”
Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows but said nothing and began bustling around the kitchen armed with her spoon. Gretchen’s cheeks burned, and she ducked her head cursing her impulsiveness. She’d almost forgotten sending it off entirely.
“After breakfast we will meet in the barn to discuss the plan before getting the caravan together for the trek to the mountain.” Mandell clapped his hands together. “We will collect the wraith en route.”
With that, he turned on his heel and marched through the kitchen to what looked like a drawing room beyond. Gretchen propped her head on her hands and sighed. Mrs. Hughes was industrious; cracking eggs one-handed while stirring a cauldron with what smelled like oatmeal bubbling inside. With a drizzle of honey on top, she gave a satisfied nod and lifted the pot off the fire. She sat it in front of Gretchen with a thump and gave her an appraising look.
“Not much to look at. But if you can convince that pretentious little quill-twirler you’re up to the task, we may get our bonus yet.”
“Quill-twirler?” Gretchen didn’t bother to hide her smirk.
“The Scribe of the Realm.” Mrs. Hughes waved her spoon for emphasis and tittered. “He who commits the good deeds of our valiant Prince to paper.”