The Crystal Heart by Sophie Masson Page A

they’re also very greedy and can be wooed in that way. I told Izolda about how I’dbrought the resident domevoy a gift of fresh honey-cake the last time I’d visited the cottage.
    â€˜What does the domevoy look like?’ she asked.
    â€˜I don’t know. Never seen it – domevoys very, very rarely show themselves. Our family has lived in our house for five generations, but our domevoy has been seen only twice in all that time. The first time was by my great-grandmother, when she was a little girl. And the second was by me.’
    â€˜What happened?’
    â€˜I was about five at the time. My sisters were fast asleep in the room we shared. I was dozing when, suddenly, in the corner of the room, I caught a glimpse of a wizened, hard-eyed dark face. Almost instantly it was gone, and there was only the flick of a long, thin rat-like tail, whisking out of sight, behind the stove. My sisters and Father said that I’d been dreaming. Or that I had merely seen a rat. But Mother believed me. And I’ve never forgotten it.’
    â€˜Of course, you wouldn’t!’ said Izolda. ‘I hope we’ll see our one here.’
    Our one. It gave me a tingle of pleasure. ‘I’m sure we will, if we play our cards right,’ I said lightly. ‘But tell me, are there any domevoys in Night?’
    â€˜Not exactly. At least, they’re not the benign sort you have here. We have cave goblins – and you certainly wouldn’t want them in your house!’
    â€˜What are they like?’
    â€˜They’re carnivorous carrion-eaters who lurk in the shadows, in fissures in the rocks and caves too small and unpleasant to be used by any feyin ,’ she said. ‘They’re small and stunted and grey-skinned, with a single fangthat holds enough poison to paralyse a creature the size of a small cat. On their own, they are cowards dependent on the remains of creatures that fall from the upper world into their caves. They also catch bats or other small animals that have blundered too close to a goblin den. Cave goblins occasionally hunt in packs. And then they are really dangerous – until the pack can be tracked down and destroyed by the Marshals, everyone has to take great care,’ Izolda went on, her eyes alight. ‘When they are in a pack, they lose their fear and come out of hiding to hunt feyin at the very gates of my father’s realm, hoping to grab those too weak or unwary to fight them.’
    â€˜Let’s hope these Marshals of yours do their job properly, then,’ I said.
    â€˜Oh, they do,’ said Izolda. ‘They always find the pack. Always.’
    I knew who the Night Marshals were, of course. The memory of the crack troops of the Prince of Night lived on in war stories, even though they hadn’t been seen for ten years. But I had only ever thought of them in terms of enemy soldiers, not as Izolda saw them – as protectors of their people. And that led me on to an intriguing thought. All the time that Izolda had been imprisoned, the Marshals had not waged war. What had they been doing all this time? ‘Izolda, how many realms are there underground?’
    She looked at me in some surprise. ‘My father’s realm is really the only one. There’s the Outlands, with a few small villages and outstations which are semi-independent, but they are of no significance.’
    â€˜These Outlands, are they ever attacked?’
    â€˜Attacked? By who?’
    â€˜By M– I mean, goblins.’
    â€˜If they were, the Marshals would help them.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because they pay tribute to my father, so they are protected too.’
    I changed the subject then, for I could see she was becoming troubled by my questions. We talked instead of what we were going to do the next day, and how we’d set about making the house a little more comfortable.
    â€˜I’m so tired, Kasper,’ Izolda finally said, yawning.