The tents were large but light to carry and easy to set up and dismantle. They would keep you warm in the winter and cool during the summer. Cassio suspected it was all prerequisite for people who carried their villages on their backs. A small fire had been set up in the middle of tent and Cassio and Sal waited that Old Badger had sat down before doing the same.

She took out a small pipe and filled it with sweet smelling tobacco before lighting it with a match. Following Garuccian customs, she took a few puffs from the pipe to show it wasn’t poisoned before passing it to Cassio who was careful not to suck in the smoke too deeply. The pipe tobacco was far stronger than the cigars he was used to.

After the pipe had passed from Sal back to Old Badger, Sal took out a flask.

Just like Old Badger had done with the pipe, Sal took a sip of the brandy to prove it wasn’t poisoned. Then he handed the flask to Cassio who also vouched for its safety by drinking it. The brandy flushed out the taste of tobacco from his tongue. Old Badger accepted the flask with a sweet smile and drank.

“It is good.” Old Badger said after handing the flask back.

“I am glad to hear it.” Sal said.

Old Badger nodded and then blew out a smoke ring.

“I apologize for Little Ant if she offended either of you. She is young and eager to prove herself.”

“She…” Cassio began.

“It’s no problem. We were much the same at that age.” Sal said and then looked at Old Badger: “Now… why are we here? What did you need help with?”

Old Badger studied them through her pipe smoke.

“Men from Garuccia have been transporting something through The Wyrding.”

“Humans, huh? That is odd but hardly a problem.” Sal said.

“They hired one of our own as a guide. Sparrow. He was our best scout.” Old Badged said.

“Was?” Cassio said fearing the worst.

“They killed him. When Sparrow asked what was promised, they killed him.” Old Badger said and shook her head: “He was Little Ant’s mentor. That’s why I sent her instead of someone more experienced.”

Cassio rubbed his calloused knuckles.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Cassio said.

Sal’s usually self-satisfied smile was gone, and he looked… ashamed.

“So am I but… are you sure you need our help with this? You shouldn’t have a problem sneaking up on them and slitting their throats when they slept.” Sal said.

“Normally yes but… they have a skin-changer with them. From the Bear Clan.” Old Badger said.

“What?!” Sal said.

“My reaction exactly.” Old Badger said.

Cassio had heard stories of the Bear Clan, one of the most brutish skin-changer houses in the Wyrding. They were not ones to work with humans. Cassio thought what he had heard and then turned to look at Sal who was hired to do his thinking for him.

“Sal, what do you think?” Cassio said.

“Me thinks this is pretty goddamn weird. Okay, sure. Smugglers. I get that. Some idiot tries to move the booty through The Wyrding. Nothing new there. Hell, shooting the guide is a dick move but not off the table either but… having a skin-changer acting as bodyguard? That’s weird.” Sal said.

“Is it really?” Cassio said.

“Weirder than you’d think.” Sal said.

“Indeed, it is. The Bear Clan is not known for being agreeable.” Old Badger said and suddenly she looked very old and very tired: “Do you remember your promise, lord Torrini?”

“I’m a Torrini. We never forget.” Sal said.

“Then I ask that you take care of this. Give Sparrow and us justice” Old Badger said.

Sal answered without hesitation.

“I’m in.” Sal said and looked at Cassio: “What about you?”

“In.” Cassio said.

Old Badger smiled.

“Thank you, my graceful lords. Little Ant will lead you to them tomorrow morning but tonight you stay with us.”

“We’d be honored.” Sal said.

The elderly goblin smiled and then put her paw over Sal’s hand.

“If you would excuse us, lord viscount, I would like to have word with lord Torrini.”

“As you wish.” Cassio said and stepped out of the tent.

The pipe tobacco was still making his head swim, but he tried not to look weak in front of the goblin tribe. They were all glancing at him wearily, this giant of a man in their midst, and kept their distance. All except one. When Little Ant saw that Old Badger was done with him, the young goblin approached him.

“Lord viscount.” Little Ant said.

“Little Ant.” Cassio said.

“Will you do it?” Little Ant said.

“Your grandmother convinced me. She said you want to be our guide.”

Little Ant just nodded.

“She also told me about your mentor.” Cassio said.

A pain that Little Ant should have been too young to know twisted her face. She looked at the rifle hanging from Cassio’s shoulder longingly.

“Can that rifle kill a skin-changer?” Little Ant asked.

“It can kill a normal bear if I get the shot right.” Cassio said.

And if he didn’t… he’d made it personal. An angry bear was a terrible enemy.

“This isn’t a normal bear. It’s a skin-changer. A monster. When… they eat you… they also eat your memories… your shape… they eat who you are… they can turn into you. That’s why… the skin-changer ate Sparrow… so he could eat his knowledge. So the skin-changer could act as a guide.”

Little Ant’s paw balled into a fist and Cassio’s could hear her knuckles crack.

“I think… his soul is still trapped inside the skin-changer.”

Cassio sighed and then kneeled in front of the girl so they could see eye to eye.

“I know what you’re going through.”

There was a flash of scorn in Little Ant’s eyes.

“Do you really?”

“Yes. When I was even younger than you, my parents were assassinated.” Cassio said.

Little Ant’s mouth opened in horror.

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. Assassins are a part of a nobleman’s life. I will see to it that your mentor is avenged but I don’t think this mission is for you. Killing grounds aren’t for girls.”

Little Ant looked at him and her large eyes were full of wounded pride.

“Sparrow… he was my mentor…”

“All the more reason for you not to risk yourself.” Cassio said.

“Milord… would you not risk yourself to avenge your parents?” Little Ant asked.

Cassio hesitated hearing that.

He didn’t like the idea of taking a girl to the killing grounds. They were no place for a woman with their gentler nature and seeing battle could scar her. Even one who liked playing a warrior. He should have said no but he understood Little Ant’s pain all too well. It was almost like he was talking to his younger self.

“If I let you come with us, you need to follow my orders when we’re out there. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” Little Ant said.

“Good.”

Cassio spent the rest of the evening watching while the entire goblin tribe practiced their spear thrusts and then meditated. When Little Ant asked him to join them in meditation, he did so reluctantly but didn’t want to seem rude.

He started reluctant but didn’t finish it reluctant.

There had been no weapon he hadn’t held that he couldn’t master, and a spear was no different. The thrusts reminded him of fencing practice and after half an hour, he could mimic the motions of the goblins perfectly. The more he threw himself into the training, the more he enjoyed himself and slowly the tribe’s suspicion turned into approval. 

The training continued until Sal stepped out of Old Badger’s tent just before sundown.

A great fire was set up for the entire camp to sit around and Old Badger sat Cassio and Sal by her side as guests of honor. The respect their wise woman treated them with warmed the goblins up to them and soon they were sharing food. It was surprising how varied the goblins diet was. Meat, eggs, roots, and berries washed down with beer. They ate better than many of the farmers living on his family’s lands.

As was custom, Old Badger took the first taste of all the food that was offered to prove it wasn’t poisoned. As thanks for the meal, Sal took out the bars of chocolate they had brought with them. After Cassio had had a bite of chocolate, he shared them with everyone in the camp. The goblins sniffed at the bars suspiciously before having a taste and then wolfing them down.

Once they had eaten, Old Badger stood up and began to tell a story of how Garuccia and The Wyrding had been separated.

“A thousand years ago, the black dragon Girusai ruled over all from his castle on the Black Summit.”

There was a strange power to the old goblin’s voice when they sat around the fire in the dark forest. It was like a spell being weaved over them all and in the flames, Cassio could make out a black dragon jealously guarding his kingdom.

“All races from the kind elves to the hardy giants had to pay tribute to him with gold and brides. From his castle Girusai saw all and no one dared to rebel against him.”

Cassio wasn’t the only one Old Badger’s story had taken hold of, and children would hug their parents for comfort who themselves looked fascinated like children.

“All except two. When the prince of all elves Oberon ventured out of his home and saw the cruelty Girusai ruled with, he swore to put an end to his reign. He found help in King Eld. The newly crowned king of men who had been trained by one of our own.”

The mention of Garuccia’s founder made Cassio’s heart quicken and he couldn’t help but smile. The visions in the fire changed and he could see the two great rulers become blood brothers with the slash of a knife.

“Together, Oberon and Eld challenged Girusai and faced him in his own castle. They fought at the peak of the Black Summit and then… Girusai was no more.”

The children couldn’t hide their glee and Cassio found himself grinning with them.

“Once the dragon king was dead, Oberon and Eld divided the land between each other with the Pact of Kings. Oberon would rule the fae in The Wyrding while Eld would build a kingdom for men in Garuccia. The Wyrd Stones were laid down to mark the borders of their domains.”

The last part left a sour taste in Cassio’s mouth. He knew enough about court intrigue to suspect that the story left out some nasty realpolitik that must have gone down between Eld and Oberon. You didn’t build such high walls because you trusted your neighbor.

“But the story does not end there. Girusai’s son still lives. He still rules Storm Roost so you all better be nice, or the traitor Old Flea will spirit you away to serve a dragon.” Old Badger said.

Once the tale had been told, the goblins headed to their tents for a night of sleep. A tent had been prepared for Cassio and Sal alone and they lied down using their coats as blankets.

“Who’s this Old Flea?” Cassio asked while waiting for sleep.

“A goblin who served Girusai and these days takes orders from his son.”

“Wouldn’t he be a thousand years old?”

“The fae live for a very long time and… there are perks serving a dragon.” Sal said.

“I see.” Cassio said: “What did you and the old goblin talk about?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff.” Sal agreed.

Sleep snatched Sal away first and Cassio had to count sheep for a while before he drifted away. His dreams were not pleasant. He dreamt of the mansion he had lived in as a child. Before the killer had come. This time it wasn’t a man in a dark hood, but an old goblin dressed like a gentleman who had seen better days. Old Flea bound him and dragged him away to Storm Roost where a black dragon was waiting for him.

“Wake up.”

It was still dim outside when he was awakened but he could make out Little Ant standing over him.

“We need to start moving, milord.” Little Ant said and then flashed the sleeping Sal a scornful look: “I guess he can come too.”