“Waiting for you, obviously.”
“You sent the letter?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“First,” she said, “tell me how you got to Phasdreille and which of the party you have seen.”
I still had my hands fixed to her shoulders, and now-perhaps at the mention of the others-it was like I remembered who she was, and I felt awkward and overfamiliar. I let her go and took a step back, gesturing vaguely and looking shamefaced.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
I nodded and looked at the floor.
She poured me a glass of the beer (better than that in the city, but not by much) and I told my tale-all of it: Sorrail, the fight in the cave, the loss of Orgos and Mithos, our failed rescue attempt, meeting Garnet in the city, and everything that had happened since. After I had finished, she sat in silence for a long time, her narrow eyes almost closed with thought. She was, as ever, small and girlish. Her skin was dark, brown as leather, and her hair was black and glossy as the feathers of a raven. Sitting there so small in the candlelight of this unfamiliar room I was reminded of when I had first met the much-touted party leader and how bewildered and disappointed I had been. That seemed like a very long time ago.
“But you have had no news of Mithos and Orgos since your encounter in the forest?”
I shook my head.
“You think they are?. .”
“I don’t know,” I answered, quickly.
“And there has been no other attempt to rescue them since you reached Phasdreille?”
“Not that I know of,” I answered, “though I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they weren’t telling me everything. I’m not the most popular person in the city.”
There was another long silence between us, then she sipped her beer and I shifted in my seat.
“So you also met the ambassador,” she said. “Strange. I came here in similar circumstances and around the same time, but I arrived alone. I made my way toward the White City, though I did not get that far. Passing through a village near the forest on the east bank of the river, I found that I was being followed. Soon there was a growing crowd behind me, whispering and pointing. I made for an inn but they overtook me as I went in and let me know that I was not welcome.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Why not?”
“It seems they thought I was some kind of goblin half-breed.”
Jaws often drop on the stage, but rarely have I been so gobsmacked in reality. This was one of those rare occasions. I just sat there and Lisha said nothing. It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. I looked at her, so small and dark, with her black hair and her narrow, eastern eyes, and I was suddenly embarrassed.
“How could they think that you were like that filth just because you don’t, you know, look the same as them?”
She shrugged fractionally and smiled her tiny, knowing smile.
“You haven’t come across the goblins, though, Lisha,” I said, trying to sound conciliatory. “I mean, I’m not saying that it’s understandable that they took you for one, but the people round here have pretty good reason to hate them.”
“Perhaps,” she said, regarding me thoughtfully.
“I mean it’s terrible that they misjudged you, but if you knew these things, you’d see why they are so paranoid. It’s more misreading than malice, you know?”
She sat quite still and said nothing for a long time. Then she sighed and said, “I don’t know, Will. This place just doesn’t feel right to me. I’ve had to skulk around the countryside wrapped up like a leper so that no one would challenge me on the assumption that I’m some kind of demon. Out here, where the people are a little more mixed, I can just about get by, but even here I have to stay in my room and pay double the usual rate to keep the innkeeper happy. I can’t get anywhere near the city. That’s why I had to bring you to me, without making myself visible.
“I heard of your presence in the city but I did not want to risk drawing attention to myself,” she said. “Apart from the danger such exposure might put me in, it could also jeopardize the kind of reception you have been getting. I chose a way that would reach you but wouldn’t attract attention if the letter should. . go astray. You were the obvious target because I doubted Garnet and Renthrette would roll with something so underhanded. I assume they’ve adjusted to the court rather better than you have?”
“Yes,” I said. “Odd, really. I’ve always prided myself on being flexible, on being able to play any role I was given, while they’ve always seemed rigid, unbending, and intolerant of whatever seemed suspicious. I guess the palace doesn’t seem suspicious to them.”
“And you? Are you suspicious?”
“No,” I said, quickly and without much thought. “I don’t think so. There are strange things about the whole city, but I suppose you’d find that everywhere.”
“I suppose,” agreed Lisha, noncommittally.
“What are you thinking?” I pressed. “You think something is wrong?”
“Probably nothing. I’m just not sure of a few things. I told you that I have word from the city via some of the few people who will talk to me.”
“Does that include the girl who picked me up?”
“Rose? Yes. She doesn’t know anything about me, but she likes to talk, and I have learned much from her. She. . has contact with some of the courtiers from time to time.”
“You mean. .”
“Outside the city, people are not so wealthy as in it. Much of what is made or grown out here goes into Phasdreille, and many of the laborers struggle to make ends meet. Rose, like many others, has found a way to bring in some more money. That way she can keep her family, and her children, respectably.”
“Ironic.”
“Irony is a luxury many cannot afford,” she answered. I dropped my eyes a little, but she smiled. “Come now, Will. Before you came here, your hide was a good deal tougher. I suggest you thicken it again, if you can. It may yet prove invaluable. But that wasn’t my point. Rose and others like her told me of the arrival of people they called Outsiders. When you first reached the city, you created something of a stir. It seems that these Outsiders have been expected for some time. And though their interest in you has strangely dwindled lately, your first appearance prompted a good deal of excitement and some anxiety. Your names were on everyone’s lips for a day or so, and then, quite suddenly, you were forgotten. Garnet is now a horseman of the fair folk. Renthrette is a court lady often seen in the company of the much esteemed Sorrail. Will Hawthorne has vanished from sight and, it seems, from memory. Rose spoke of you several times when you first came to Phasdreille, but when I sent her to get you, she appeared to have no recollection of you. It is, as you say, odd.”
“I guess I’m kind of forgettable.” I shrugged.
“But that’s the thing,” she said. “You’re not. You should stand out, because you’re not like them. You don’t look like them and you certainly don’t think like them, so why have people stopped talking about you?”
“Maybe I’m just the wrong kind of different,” I said.
She looked at me sharply, and then nodded, as if I had said something shrewd or profound. “There’s also this attempt on your life,” she continued. “I don’t know, Will. It’s all very strange. It sounds like two separate entities-one goblin, the other human-want you dead. The cloaked figure only intervened when it seemed that the goblins might spare you. Why do two groups who hate each other both want you dead? And then there’s the Orgos apparition in the forest. Do you have any ideas?”
“Not really,” I confessed. “The goblin said, ‘I have no faith in prophecy, Mr. Hawthorne.’ Could our arrival have been foretold somehow? It might explain why there was such interest in us at first. Then when it turned out that we either weren’t what was prophesied or that the prophecy was bollocks, or whatever-then they lost interest in us? I don’t ordinarily believe in such things, of course. . ”