smallness of soul had taken up the trade of highway robber in order to die a nasty death upon the gallows and thus not have to face his own pettiness, only to discover that his skills far exceeded his integrity, and thus spent many years as a progressively more depraved brigand before he finally was burned in the place of a witch—or continued his career. The song ended less than clearly.
As Golias finished, "Cal" stretched a dirty boot up onto the table, picked something unpleasant off it with the point of "his" pongee, and said, "It does seem a pity that the poor girl ends up stuck down among the goblins. After all it was against her will."
"It's a law of magic," Pell said, smoothing her bodice to remind everyone present of which woman was currently supposed to be a woman.
Slitgizzard belched and grinned. "Laws are made to be broken."
"Magical laws are a different matter," Wassant said, waving to the owner for another plate of simile and protons, that dish at which Hektarians most excel. "Only poets and storytellers can break them, and then it must be done at the right moment. Her lover and the girl herself could not break them because they were inside the story."
"But we aren't," Calliope persisted, now too interested to remember to keep her voice deep and gruff.
"Near enough," Golias said. " 'Penna Pike' is a very old song—parts of it suggest a language that has long since passed from human knowledge—and knowing it to be so old, we must believe it to be peculiarly true, so true that if ever any part of it was not true, that part has since become so. That being the case, its laws of magic would be unusually strong. It would take a bold gang of adventurers to go down the dark tunnels to Goblin Country, still more so to carry her off in the teeth of the various ensorcellments . . . no, it's quite explicable why she has remained down there all these years."
"Well, then," Calliope said, "when do we start?"
Golias looked up and scratched his head. "You mean, start down the tunnels under the city? To rescue her? I sup-pose as soon as you like. It wouldn't take long if it worked, and preparation before going won't matter if it fails. Traditionally we ought to go at night when they are strongest."
"Wait a moment," Wassant said, not in the least pleased. "That's not at all what I'd have had in mind from you, Golias. Isn't it traditionally the job of the wise one in the party to give the dark warning?"
"I'm quite sure it is," Sir John Slitgizzard said, his face deeply troubled. "No reflection on your abilities, sir, but I have been on a few of these things, and when it comes to messing about with dark tunnels and vile things under the earth, we need a good hand for white magic with us, and one of the duties of that person is to tell us that we're getting into more than we're bargaining for."
Golias sighed, so deep a sigh that the candles nearly went out in front of him, and everyone there felt an icy hand pass up his or her back. "Know, then, since you are so determined, that such will be our course. We will pass for what will seem eons through dark caverns swarming with bats and corpse-worms, in gunge composed of things it is not good to think about, our sole lights the lanterns we carry and the dim glow of corpseworms. At last at the border of Goblin Country—always assuming they don't know we're coming and ambush us in the tunnels—there will be some fell monster, set there to keep watch, who will ask an unfathomable riddle; and should it be fathomed, we must then march boldly to the Goblin King, demand and obtain the girl, and finally, despite treachery (and with goblins you can always count on treachery!), carry the maiden forth without getting any of the steps wrong. And all of this will earn us a footnote in a moderately popular ballad, whereas if we don't, sooner or later some hero in need of a feat of prowess will come along and do it anyway. So the whole thing is pointless and extraordinarily dangerous.
As Golias finished, "Cal" stretched a dirty boot up onto the table, picked something unpleasant off it with the point of "his" pongee, and said, "It does seem a pity that the poor girl ends up stuck down among the goblins. After all it was against her will."
"It's a law of magic," Pell said, smoothing her bodice to remind everyone present of which woman was currently supposed to be a woman.
Slitgizzard belched and grinned. "Laws are made to be broken."
"Magical laws are a different matter," Wassant said, waving to the owner for another plate of simile and protons, that dish at which Hektarians most excel. "Only poets and storytellers can break them, and then it must be done at the right moment. Her lover and the girl herself could not break them because they were inside the story."
"But we aren't," Calliope persisted, now too interested to remember to keep her voice deep and gruff.
"Near enough," Golias said. " 'Penna Pike' is a very old song—parts of it suggest a language that has long since passed from human knowledge—and knowing it to be so old, we must believe it to be peculiarly true, so true that if ever any part of it was not true, that part has since become so. That being the case, its laws of magic would be unusually strong. It would take a bold gang of adventurers to go down the dark tunnels to Goblin Country, still more so to carry her off in the teeth of the various ensorcellments . . . no, it's quite explicable why she has remained down there all these years."
"Well, then," Calliope said, "when do we start?"
Golias looked up and scratched his head. "You mean, start down the tunnels under the city? To rescue her? I sup-pose as soon as you like. It wouldn't take long if it worked, and preparation before going won't matter if it fails. Traditionally we ought to go at night when they are strongest."
"Wait a moment," Wassant said, not in the least pleased. "That's not at all what I'd have had in mind from you, Golias. Isn't it traditionally the job of the wise one in the party to give the dark warning?"
"I'm quite sure it is," Sir John Slitgizzard said, his face deeply troubled. "No reflection on your abilities, sir, but I have been on a few of these things, and when it comes to messing about with dark tunnels and vile things under the earth, we need a good hand for white magic with us, and one of the duties of that person is to tell us that we're getting into more than we're bargaining for."
Golias sighed, so deep a sigh that the candles nearly went out in front of him, and everyone there felt an icy hand pass up his or her back. "Know, then, since you are so determined, that such will be our course. We will pass for what will seem eons through dark caverns swarming with bats and corpse-worms, in gunge composed of things it is not good to think about, our sole lights the lanterns we carry and the dim glow of corpseworms. At last at the border of Goblin Country—always assuming they don't know we're coming and ambush us in the tunnels—there will be some fell monster, set there to keep watch, who will ask an unfathomable riddle; and should it be fathomed, we must then march boldly to the Goblin King, demand and obtain the girl, and finally, despite treachery (and with goblins you can always count on treachery!), carry the maiden forth without getting any of the steps wrong. And all of this will earn us a footnote in a moderately popular ballad, whereas if we don't, sooner or later some hero in need of a feat of prowess will come along and do it anyway. So the whole thing is pointless and extraordinarily dangerous.
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