"We are doing everything possible," said Cordus, "to solve this mystery. You have to trust me, and give us time."
She nodded. "For now, I'll wait and do as you wish. Yet if the road is closed to the public, how will we make our living? We cannot survive on nothing, Lord Knight."
"From this point on," said Cordus, "you will be paid by Dremlock. You will keep the road maintained for Knightly use. In exchange you'll receive more silver than you ever made from tips, and superior weapons and armor." He took a leather pouch from one of his packs and tossed it to her. "And now here's a tip for your dedication to defending this road, Saranna."
Furlus and Taris also tossed pouches to her.
The Ranger sat like stone for several moments, while rain drizzled down. Her green eyes gazed unblinking into Cordus' blue ones. Lannon watched her in fascination. There was something very compelling about Saranna-something rugged and unyielding, yet deeply feminine.
Finally Saranna nodded. "I agree to your terms for now. But this means nothing, really. As the whole, the Rangers shall decide what must be done. There's more to this tale than I have time to tell you here."
Cordus nodded. "The message the Rangers sent us was received, so we know what has been taking place out here. But we can spare no Knights at this time. We are scattered all over Silverland right now."
"A desperate situation?" said Saranna.
"As desperate," said Cordus, "as any ever encountered by Dremlock. Now if there is nothing else, we must move on."
"Farewell," said Saranna, "and ride with caution, for the North Road has become black with peril. Four Rangers were killed in the last month alone. The West Drop and East Bloat trails are both overrun by Goblins. There's going to be a meeting at the Dead Goblin Inn tomorrow night, and then we'll learn the fate of the North Road. No one is safe here anymore."
Furlus eyed Saranna with a smug look. He pointed a thick finger at her. "Save your warnings, Ranger, for those who need it. We can look after ourselves."
The Ranger's black wolf snarled, eyeing Furlus distrustfully.
Saranna bowed. "Whatever you say, Tower Master. Good luck to you all. By the way, don't think we are ignorant about the so-called Goblin Puzzle, for it's no great secret!" With that, she galloped on past them and was swallowed up by the fog. The wolf looked them over once more, and then trotted after her.
"The Goblin Puzzle?" said Lannon.
"Don’t concern yourself with such talk, Lannon" said Cordus, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "You're going to Dremlock as a Squire. You will train as the other Squires do and receive no special favors. The first thing you need to learn is that some knowledge is forbidden to you at this time. The Goblin Puzzle is something that falls into that category. If you hear someone mention something you don't understand, push it out of your mind for now. We'll teach you all you need to learn, when the time is right."
"You'll learn about the Goblin Puzzle soon enough," said Taris.
Cordus shot the sorcerer a warning glance, which Taris blatantly ignored. "Probably sooner than you'll want to," Taris finished.
Lannon fidgeted about restlessly, tormented with the need to ask about the Ranger's statements, hoping the Knights would discuss it with each other. But they maintained a staunch silence and instead concentrated upon navigating the Greywinds through the rain, mist, and mud.
At one point they passed the remains of the wagon. It lay on its side in pieces. Even to Lannon's untrained eye, there was no mistaking the claw marks in the wood. Lannon shuddered, pressing close to Taris. For an instant he felt exposed and vulnerable. Goblins had torn apart the wagon and killed the merchant. Who knew what they might be planning? Maybe they were watching right now from the mist and tree branches.
Not far beyond the wagon, they came across the first great Iracus Trees-the Mothers. Bloated and twisted, with reddish needles on their low-hanging branches, these Goblin-spawning trees had now almost completely taken the place of the others. Their bark was grey and sickly looking, and their roots were huge, rising up in arches and disappearing again beneath the mud. The Rangers had hacked down any of the trees that dared grow too close to the road, and they lay like giant, pale skeletons in the fog. The stench clung to the travelers' lungs and throats with the thickness of molasses, fixing their faces in tense masks as they struggled to breathe.
"Where will we sleep tonight?" asked Lannon.
"At the Dead Goblin Inn," said Furlus, with a touch of pride in his voice. "We can rest the Greywinds, take a break from the stench, and get good food. It's for Rangers, mostly. Yet the inn actually does well for business, since it's the only one along this stretch. It's run by an Olrog."
"The Mother Trees are thinning out," said Cordus. "The Dead Goblin lies just ahead. I can almost smell the incense from here." Even as he finished speaking, the Mothers gave way to the lesser Iracus Trees again, with the road becoming mostly free of roots. The rain suddenly burst into a downpour, and the Knights drove their horses into a gallop. As they passed down a long, straight stretch of the trail, a sign faded into view from the fog that said:
DEAD GOBLIN INN
CLEAN ROOMS, GOOD FOOD,
AND BEST OF ALL,
NO STENCH!
The inn was set back a bit from the road, almost obscured by the mist. It was three stories high and made mostly of huge logs. The Knights took the Greywinds behind to a stable, where they surrendered them to a young Ranger whom they tipped generously, and then entered the inn.
The Dead Goblin was an appropriate name for it. Behind the bar was mounted the boulder-sized head of a Cave Troll, which was the main attraction. But there were also many smaller dead, stuffed Goblins within-such as Vultures, Tree Goblins, and a Foul Brother standing in one corner, its sad, dumb eyes gazing into nothingness and its hands raised as if to ward off the attack that had felled it. Thick stalks of incense burned in every corner, filling the inn with a sweet aroma that almost, but not quite, blocked out the stench of the Bloodlands.
Lannon stared in fascination at the trophies. Every corner he glanced at seemed to contain something interesting, and his eyes could not take in all the sights with just one pass, or even ten. Mingled with the Goblins were wooden carvings, twisted Iracus Roots that had sinister shapes, and paintings of famous Rangers of the past.
Several Rangers sat at tables, talking over dinner and drinks. None of them greeted the Knights. Their faces were grim, and they muttered quiet words to each other. A dark tension hung about the place. The Olrog innkeeper, whom one of the Knights addressed as Sambar, was a bit shorter than Furlus, and his huge beard and flowing hair were a darker shade of grey-almost black. Ale was poured for Furlus and Cordus, and milk for Lannon. Taris drank water.
"There was some trouble earlier this day," Sambar said grimly.
"We've heard," said Cordus, sighing.
"More and more attacks!" said Sambar. "Goblins showing intelligence-even organizing into groups. What in Tharnin is going on, Cordus?"
"I wish I could say for sure," said Cordus.
"I fear the legends of old," said Sambar. "The Deep Shadow was not destroyed in the ancient war. All the Crimson Flamestone did was drive the Barloak demons back to Tharnin. The Shadow itself still exists. Could it be that another great assault is soon to be waged upon our world?"
Lannon wasn't sure what Sambar was referring to, since he didn't know much about the history of the land. But he wanted to hear more, for he felt a sudden, overpowering anxiety grip him at Sambar's words.