Direfang ran his fingers across the bowl floor. The earth was hard and smooth, as if it had been sculpted, though there was loose dirt in the very center, probably from Mudwort using her magic. The floor of her home reminded him of a food bowl he’d watched a potter in Steel Town craft and later paint.
“Mudwort was smart to build such a fine, dry home.”
Again the red-skinned goblin beamed with pride.
“All of the homes in this city should be so fine.”
Mudwort opened her mouth and shook her head. “Direfang-”
“All will be so fine and dry.” He crossed his arms as he thought it over, deciding. “Mudwort’s magic will make many, many bowls like this. And Mudwort and Sully will teach the clans how to build homes just like this.”
Mudwort glared at him. “No, this home is special, Direfang.”
“All the homes in this city will be special, Mudwort. Then the storms will be no bother.”
She sputtered and shook her head, raised a hand as if to make a gesture, then irritably drew it down on her lap.
“When the rain stops,” Direfang said, turning and crawling out of her home. His broad shoulders scraped against the narrow opening. “When the rain stops, Mudwort will start teaching.”
She slammed her fist against the earth the moment he was gone.
EARTH BOWLS
Mudwort spread out a piece of thatch that had blown off someone’s roof. She knelt on the edge of it, not wanting to get her knees in the mud left behind from the morning’s downpour. She liked the feel of the earth against her fingers, and soon she would be sticking her arms deep into it, but she didn’t want to dirty her legs and her tunic that hung practically to her ankles. Mudwort was particular about the few items of clothing she possessed.
She leaned forward and set her fingertips against the ground. It felt cool and she treasured the sensation for a moment, as it was pleasant and she was feeling annoyed. Annoyed, flustered, aggravated, verging on angry-she was all of those things, and more. It was not her fault that all the other goblins built shoddy homes. It was not her fault Direfang had selected such a forsaken place for their city rather than up against a mountain, where they could find caves and wouldn’t have to spend their days building and sweating and muddying and tearing their clothes. She should not be tasked with that; her home was finished, warm and fine and perfect, and she should not have to help the others build something as perfect as hers.
Direfang had clan leaders nearby, studying her home. She saw them when she craned her neck around a spindly willow birch, poking at the sides of her place and probably digging out some of her river clay mortar. She should have built her home far, far away, where Direfang would not have seen its fine construction. It would have saved her the work she was about to do.
She took a deep breath and let her fingers sink in. Happy was the dirt in that spot. Sated with water, worms crawled deeper into the ground, and she sensed that seeds were awakening near the surface. She would send her senses far away from there, from Direfang’s blown-down city; she’d find the goblins she spied in the long-ago times and search for the spear. Finding it was far more important than helping the clans build homes.
She’d wanted to come to the forest because of the spear, it’s true. When sending out her call for goblins, she’d accidentally discovered she could search through the earth not just in the present time, but through the past. Decades past, centuries probably, she discovered her counterpart, a young shaman who wore a great many necklaces and led her people out of the mountain caves and into the forest where food was plentiful. The shaman came across a great magical spear that was said to have been Chislev’s, Mudwort saw. Then Mudwort lost sight of the shaman and the spear, too many other things occupying her attention.
She should look for that spear that very minute.
But Direfang hovered nearby, watching, waiting, demanding that she help him build the city. She could almost hear his foot tapping anxiously, his mind racing.
Find the shaman in the past. More important, find the spear.
It had been during one of her mental forays through the earth, looking for the spear, that she’d first noticed the dwellings the long-ago goblins were building. They dug holes in the ground and smoothed the sides and cleared the weeds and rocks-a few of them using magic to make the task go faster. They used short logs for walls, as she had, weaving cattails and reeds to keep them together and make a dense roof, using clay from the river and dung from animals to mortar the logs tight. Each home was at the same time in the earth and above the earth.
Like Mudwort’s fine, fine home.
She closed her eyes and coaxed the earth to become as malleable as soft clay, and she began to mold it. When Direfang had watched her shape the ground after leaving Steel Town, he told her she was a sculptor … then he had to explain just what that meant, and about clay and mugs and small statues representing great heroes and worthless gods, all made by someone who could work clay with her fingers.
Only she used her mind.
Mudwort pictured the depressions the goblins in the past had made and the one she herself had formed for her own home. She imagined the dirt around her hollowing itself, and beneath the surface she cupped her hand.
She heard a gasp over her shoulder and nearly lost her concentration. It was followed by whispers, and though she wanted to know what was being said, she forced all the words and other sounds away. There was only the earth.
It took several minutes for the dirt to obey, forming a bowl shape similar to her cupped hand. Mudwort remembered the bowl-house was going to be for Graytoes and Umay, and perhaps for Jando-Jando, who had made it more than clear he wanted to be Graytoes’ mate. It did not need to be large, for only three, but Mudwort knew Direfang was fond of Graytoes, so she made the depression a little deeper, the sides wider. Besides, there could well be baby goblins in Graytoes’s future, and the family could use the space.
There was another gasp, and Mudwort opened her eyes, rolled her shoulders, and spotted Graytoes over there cradling Umay. Jando-Jando was several yards back, struggling with an armload of logs. Mudwort gauged the size of the thickest of the logs then walked around the exterior of the depression, grinding her thumb into the lip and ordering the earth to do her bidding, careful not to get the hem of her tunic muddy. Big holes appeared, a foot deep. As she continued her walk, Jando-Jando fitted one of the logs into the first hole then moved along the next.
She paid attention to the chatter from all the goblins who had crept closer to watch and discuss the goings-on.
“Mudwort will build all the homes.”
“Not the homes of the Fernwold clan.”
“It is like a cave.”
“But it will be better than a cave. Wonderful.”
The last came from Cari, who promptly ordered Keth to start digging a hole inside their home. The Boarhunters’ home-in-progress was one of the few that had not fallen in the storm.
When Mudwort had finished making the holes for Jando-Jando’s posts, she picked up her thatch mat and padded a few yards away to another bare spot of ground. She didn’t know who the next home would be for, and she didn’t care. Kneeling on the mat, she touched her fingers to the damp earth and after several long minutes she had the beginnings of another depression.
It was after her fourth earth bowl that she shook out her shoulders and rubbed her temples wearily. Her head ached from the mental effort of moving the ground. Direfang still watched her, proud and pleased, no longer a stern expression on his craggy face.
She looked to the bluff and padded toward it. Still attuned to the earth, she felt his heavy footfalls behind her. Mudwort walked faster then scampered down the bluff, stepping past the foundation of the Fishgatherers’ home and to the edge of the river. She hiked up her tunic and stepped into the cool wetness. The water swirled around her ankles. Like most goblins, she couldn’t swim. But she could see the bottom there through the silt-laced water. It felt good, and she ruffled her toes in the sediment.