Thaydar reported that a man had come from Liverpool to do some hunting, bringing a closed wagon and two drivers with him. Harry Bounce said the drivers didn’t know much about their employer, but he had hired them to drive him in shifts without resting along the way, renting fresh teams of horses to avoid slowing down. He had left very early the previous morning, and everyone agreed that he had been terribly peculiar, but they were sorry he was gone because he had spent a great deal of money. “Liverpool,” sighed Marak. “Such a grimy place. It’s enough to put you right off humans.”
At twilight, the small band of goblins prepared once more to embark, and Kate was with them in the stable room to see them off. Marak gave Thaydar a long list of instructions. Kate realized, listening, that it was a risky thing for a magical kingdom to have its greatest magician leave. Now the group was standing idle and waiting impatiently for Sayada. He had not arrived with the others, and they had sent Seylin after him. They were wasting time, and Kate could see that Marak was becoming angry. His hands were clasped behind his back, something he often did when he wanted to be sure not to work rash magic.
Seylin came racing into the stable in cat form. His black fur was standing out, and his tail was puffed. “Sayada is sick!” he shrieked. “He’s asleep!”
“Asleep?” echoed Marak, staring. “Asleep where?”
“I found him in his rooms,” squeaked the cat, “and he was lying in the middle of the floor, sleeping. I couldn’t wake him up.” Marak didn’t comment. He was still staring into space, thinking hard.
“But that makes no sense,” growled Katoo. “He knew we were waiting for him.”
“The sorcerer is home,” murmured Marak. “Poor Hulk. I can’t leave now, and I don’t think I’d be in time anyway.”
Sayada didn’t seem asleep, thought Kate unhappily when she saw him. He seemed dead. He was barely breathing, and he didn’t move at all. Marak examined him carefully.
“He isn’t asleep,” he said quietly. “He’s been called away. His spirit is enslaved, and his body’s been left behind to take care of itself. Seylin, run downstairs and have the Guard called in. Tell them no one is to go outside.”
Back in his workroom, Marak leafed quickly through book after book, gritting his sharp teeth impatiently.
“Are you looking for a way to break the spell?” Kate asked.
“No!” he told her with a short, bitter laugh. “I can’t break that spell, not without breaking Sayada, too. I’m looking for a way to keep him alive.” When Kate left him to go to sleep, he was still looking, but he woke her in the morning and held out a book triumphantly.
“I’ve found it!” he said. “We have something to feed them. We can keep them alive.”
“Them?” she echoed, sitting up.
“Them,” said Marak. “The count is up to twelve.”
All day the count rose, and they put the sleepers on pallets in the banquet hall. Thaydar and Bulk both slept there now, along with most of the Guard, and Marak could do nothing to stop it. He spent a hectic morning shifting assignments as people fell asleep and teaching the cooks how to prepare the special concoction that would keep the sleepers alive. By the afternoon, the count was up to fifty.
“Sooner or later, the sorcerer will have to stop calling goblins away,” Marak told Kate. They stood in the banquet hall, looking at the sleepers, goblins hurrying to and fro ministering to the quiet forms. “When that happens, he may come back for another goblin to use, and we can catch him. But if he doesn’t, we can go after him once we’re sure he’s not going to enchant someone on the road.”
“Why will the sorcerer have to stop calling goblins?” Kate asked.
“Because he’ll run out of blood,” Marak said harshly. “He’s using Hulk’s blood to call our blood and bind these goblins into slavery. And he’s taking my best!” he snarled in a rage. “The highest families, the most magical, the most goblin!” He glared out over the silent crowd in an agony of frustration, his horse tail hair beginning to blow about his face in a wind of its own. Kate put her hand into his, and the wind gradually died down. He stood looking at his enchanted subjects and idly running his thumb up and down the King’s Line scar on her palm. Suddenly he squeezed her hand so tightly that she cried out in pain.
“The skip, Kate!” he shouted. “The skip!”
He whirled on the ministering goblins, barking out orders faster than Kate could decipher them. Goblins began scattering in all directions, running. Agatha showed up in a minute, and Seylin a moment later. Marak beckoned them to his side.
“I expect to be one of the sleepers soon,” he said. “I hope I’m wrong, but if I sleep, you know what will happen. The lights will go out and the weather will change. Our kingdom will be destroyed. Seylin, you’re the most magical one left, and I know he won’t enslave you”—he hesitated—“because you’re not goblin enough.” The boy flinched as if he’d been struck. “Seylin, I need you to work the Kingdom Spells while I’m away. Dayan will bring you the book, and she can help you with the schedule. Don’t keep the lamps lit during the night anymore, and don’t try to light the valley. Don’t try to work the Rain Spell every three days, either. Every six days will be fine. Gauge yourself, Seylin. Don’t wear yourself out. I don’t know how long you’ll have to do this, but I know that I can count on you.” Kate looked at the young elf. Seylin had grown taller this year. His face, pale at first from the insult, went still paler at the commands.
Marak turned to his former nurse. “He won’t call you, either, old dwarf,” he said affectionately. Her black eyes twinkled up at him. “Keep us alive, Agatha. You’re in charge of the doors. Don’t let anyone out till the call stops, and organize the Guard as best you can out of whoever is left.
“Kate, come with me,” he said urgently, taking her hand and pulling her along with him. “I’m going to let you out.” She had to trot to keep up with his rapid strides as he hurried down the hallways.
“Out?” she wondered. “What do you mean, out? Why?”
“Because you’ll be trapped down here when the lamps go out because Seylin can’t keep them lit anymore, and the winds howl through, and the crops all die, and everybody leaves. You’ll be trapped feeding potions to a sleeping husband. A long life!” He gave a bitter laugh. “A long life in the dark.”
Kate felt a stab of fear and an even more painful stab of hope. Out! Was it even possible?
“But how can you?” she whispered.
“There’s a spell for it,” he said grimly. “Only the King can work it. He has to be able to take his wife with him if there’s a disaster.”
Kate felt dizzy. “But the King’s Wife—”
“Is supposed to have a King!” he snarled. “A husband and a son. Not a living corpse, and that’s what I’ll be, and I’ll be one for a long time. Do you think I want you chained down here just to watch at my bedside? Do you think I brought you underground for this?!”
“But I want to stay with you,” she faltered, and when she said it, she knew it was the truth. Marak knew it, too. He stopped walking, stunned.
“It’s all right, Kate,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand. “I won’t even be here.”
Once in the workroom, he went into a frenzy, scrabbling through books and tossing them to the floor. “Here it is!” he cried at last. “Kate, quick, help me. I need some kind of liquid—the red bottle over there will do.” She fetched it. “And my paintbrushes are in the little bottom drawer on the right.” She retrieved a paintbrush. “Now we need the erasing part. Bring me the powdered lead.”
“I can’t reach it,” said Kate, looking up at the shelf. “Can you get it for me?” And then, when there was no step to her side, “Marak, can you get it?”