“I invoke thee,” she said to it, hoping it didn’t have to be actually in her hand.
Nothing happened.
She felt a surge of dread. If the amulet couldn’t help her, then she was lost, for they had already made her captive. At least Suchevane had escaped. If only they had perched in their flying forms, out of reach of goblins! But had some hungry night-hunting hawk spotted them—
“Very well, ‘corn,” the chief said. “Who be ye?”
Agape didn’t answer.
“Speak, or hurt,” the goblin warned.
“Go soak thy snoot in a sewer,” Agape replied. Then she was amazed; she had not intended to say that, and it was not the way she talked!
“Speak, or we shall bite thee on the tender feet!” the chief said.
“Hear me well, fecal-face,” she said evenly. “An thou put one foul toothmark on my tender foot, the Adept’ll put sixteen handsome teethmarks in thy foul bottom. Thou canst not touch me!” What was she saying?!
“She talks like a harpy!” one of the other goblins said, impressed.
“An thou beest the creature we seek, that be true,” the chief admitted. “An thou turn out other, we shall chain thee spread o’er an anthill while we take turns raping thee to death. Now answer: what be thy name?”
“An I tell thee aye, I be the one thou dost seek, an thou dost take me to thy employer, an he know I be not, then willst thou rue the day and night that thou didst set thy smelly posterior on this globe,” she said grimly. “An I tell thee nay, and thou dost set thy minions at my body, an the Adept learn I after all be the one, then willst thou rue the very thought that sent thy sickly sire slumming to conceive thee on the stinking slut that bore thee.”
Even the chief took stock at this point. This was evidently not the precise language he had anticipated from the captive. Certainly it was nothing she had intended ever to say to anyone! What had happened to her mouth?
Then it came to her: the amulet! She had invoked it, and it was working! Already she had talked the goblin into a situation in which he dared neither to take her in nor to maltreat her.
The goblin pondered. He grimaced. “There be no help for it except I take thee in,” he decided. “That be the lesser gamble.”
“Not so, thou son o’ an infected slug,” she retorted. “Thou canst save thy putrid skin only by releasing me unharmed and reporting that thou didst discover naught in these parts.”
He stared at her. “Truly, do I wish we had found thee not!” he exclaimed. “Yet an I free thee, and thou dost turn out to be the one, then there be no spot under the earth safe to escape the vengeance o’ the Adept! So needs must I bring thee to him intact, and tell him thou art but a suspect, and my punishment then may be slight.”
“Until I tell him how thou didst have thy minions hold me whilst thou didst shove thy puny thing in me,” she said. “Then I think I had better be not the one thou seekest, for an I be the one, thou willst find thyself suspended by that thing from the nether moon.” She had not even realized that there was a nether moon! This was obviously hyperbole, but nonetheless effective.
He looked glumly at her, not commenting.
“An if I be not the one, as it be needful for thy health that I be not, then why bring me in at all?” she concluded persuasively. “I be nothing but mischief for thee, either way.”
“I shall take thee to my superior,” he decided. “The decision be his. Let him free thee or ravish thee; it will be out o’ my domain.”
He had figured out a way to pass the buck, she realized. She was stuck with captivity. Still, the tainted tongue foisted on her by the amulet had bought her some time, and perhaps it would befuddle the superior goblin as readily as it had this one. She had never before realized what a weapon a tongue could be! Trool had warned her that this was not a pretty spell; he had known whereof he spoke.
They left her tied, and spent the remainder of the night in the oasis. Then, in the morning, prompted by her harpy-tongue, they gave her some bread and water and leave to relieve herself. Then they started on their way to the goblin headquarters. They gave her back her cloak, and some food, and did not molest her. But it was a wearying walk, hours in the rising sun, bearing north.
Then something appeared on the horizon to the southwest. The goblins looked back over their shoulders, alarmed.
And well they might be, for it was a huge wooden figure, striding rapidly toward them, its face fixed in an ominously neutral expression. Obviously it intended them no good.
“A golem!” the chief muttered. “We’ll have to fight it.”
The goblins lined up, drawing weapons: sticks, daggers, and the net. The golem strode up without pause.
What did this mean?
Then Agape saw the form of a bat perched on the figure’s head, and understood. Suchevane had brought help!
The golem arrived. The goblins attacked it. Their weapons had no effect; its wooden limbs were impervious. Then it swept its hands around in a double circle, at the goblins’ head level, and knocked over every goblin within range. Its wooden arms were like clubs!
Very quickly the goblins had had enough. They fled. The golem stopped, the bat hopped down—and Suchevane stood there. “Agape!” she exclaimed, as she hurried to remove the bindings. “How glad I be that thou be not hurt!” She paused. “Or did—?”
Agape opened her mouth to reassure her friend.
“Whom dost thou think thou art talking to, guano brain?”
Oops! The spell was still in operation!
Suchevane looked startled. Quickly, Agape lifted off the amulet and threw it away.
The vampire smiled with understanding. “The amulet! Thou didst invoke it to befuddle them!”
Agape smiled agreement. “And thee, thou quarterwit! Now let me be!” Then she closed her mouth, appalled.
But Suchevane understood. “Thou canst not abate a spell by throwing away its origin,” she said. “Needs must it pass of its own accord. Come, change form, and the golem will take us to the Blue Demesnes.”
Agape was glad to keep her mouth shut and comply. She became the hummingbird, and Suchevane the bat, and they both perched on the golem, who strode purposefully for its home.
Before long the blue turrets of the castle appeared. The Blue Demesnes! A lovely older woman, also garbed in blue, came out to meet them as they arrived.
They changed back to girlform. “This be Agape, Lady,” Suchevane said. “She whom I told thee of.”
The Lady Blue extended her hand. “I am glad to meet thee at last,” she said graciously.
“Well, I be not pleased to meet thee, thou harridan,” Agape snapped. Then, appalled anew, she slapped both hands over her mouth.
“She be under geas!” Suchevane said instantly. “The Red Adept gave her an amulet, to conceal her identity—”
The Lady Blue smiled with comprehension. “Mayhap my son can abate it somewhat,” she said. “I have heard much about thee, Agape.”
Agape’s mouth opened. She stuffed her right fist into it, stifling whatever it had been about to say.
Suchevane turned to Agape. “Mine alien friend, I must haste to my Flock before I be missed. I have business… and the Lady Blue knows thy situation and will keep thee safe till Bane return.”
Indeed she had business! She wanted to go to Trool the Troll and speak her piece. Agape could not trust herself to talk, so merely nodded, then embraced the vampire tearfully.
Suchevane became the bat and flew to the northeast. Agape gazed after her, abruptly lonely.
“Fear not for her,” the Lady said, mistaking her mood. “I gave her a packet o’ wolfsbane, which she can sniff when she tires; it will buoy her to complete the journey in a single flight, so that naught can befall her aground.”