Part the Seventy-Sixth
In which: what we have, is a failure to communicate.
As the sun comes up over the horizon, and the rest of the party waits for news of the pursuit of the surviving goblins, some of the villagers set about building a pair of huge bonfires. In one, they quickly deposit the goblin dead for cremation. However, the other is left simply to burn.
Lira is just about to ask what they needed two fires for when another group of peasants appears, dragging in the bodies of two horses that attacked with the goblins and were killed in the fighting. As they wait for the second fire to burn down to embers, the villagers set about butchering the carcasses.
One of Lord Fau Meen’s men notices Lira watching. “They’ll eat well tonight,” he remarks with a snort, and spits into the snow at his feet.
Lira approaches the fire to see if she can be of any help, when something about the horses catches her eye. She motions for the butchers to stop. “Wait a second, let me see something.”
The villagers in charge of the upcoming feast draw back so hurriedly they nearly trip over their own heels. Lira, however, is too focused on the dead horse to notice.
“Eva, come here.”
“What?” Eva comes over, wondering what could be the matter.
Lira points to the dead horse. “That’s Frank.” Seeing that Eva is not following, she clarifies. “My horse.”
Eva looks a little closer. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Look.” She points to a spot, just behind the horses’ ears where the mane has been slightly thinned-out. “That’s where Euro used to ride.”
Euro comes forward to take a close look himself. I think you’re right, Boss. It kind of smells like Frank too… though also like goblin, and ogre… little bit of worg maybe?
“If that’s Frank, and the other horse is one of ours…” Eva lets the thought trail off.
“We should tell Thatch as soon as he gets back.”
###
Thatch and the others (including Kiara, Eva notes) soon return, and although they were not able to track down all of the fleeing goblins, they have captured one and brought him back to the village to be questioned.
The problem, once they have captured the goblin, bound his hands behind his back, and are ready to question him, is that they find that the goblin does not speak Common. And, unsurprisingly, none of the party members speak goblin.
“Well,” says Eva, “this is a problem.”
“Do not worry,” Anvil reassures her. “Kettenek has granted me the power to comprehend languages.”
“Oh, well that was nice of him.”
Anvil ignores her and casts comprehend languages. Immediately, the stream of nonsense syllables coming from the mouth of the goblin is transformed—for Anvil—into understandable speech.
“Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill—”
“What’s he saying?” Thatch asks.
“Nothing of import.”
Of course, the problem being that although Anvil can understand the goblin, the goblin can’t understand what anyone says to him. They try speaking very loudly and slowly, but it doesn’t seem to help.
Finally, Reyu claps her hands to get the goblin’s attention. She lifts her short-spear, and then turning the point down, begins to draw in the snow.
First, she draws a figure with pointed ears. She points to the drawing, then points to herself.
“Okay, right, that’s you. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.”
Reyu claps for attention again. Beside the pointy-eared figure, she draws a much larger figure, with a hunched back. She points to the drawing, then shrugs her shoulders.
“Huh?”
Anvil translates: “He is simple-minded. He does not understand.”
Reyu points to the drawing again, then puts on a fierce expression and growls, pantomiming waving a club.
“Oh… you mean Sheesak. Does she mean Sheesak? The ogre, with the club. She made me do everything. She’s got all kinds of monsters working for her. They say she can even control the weather.”
As Anvil translates the goblin’s response, Reyu grins.
Through a combination of drawing and pantomime, Reyu manages to ascertain that Sheesak is encamped (or headquartered, it isn’t clear) two days west of their present position, and that she has worgs and other creatures under her command.
Anvil draws a spiderweb in the snow. He turns to the goblin. “Spiders?”
The goblin nods vigorously. Yes, spiders. Lots of spiders. Don’t kill me.
“What about horses?” Thatch asks. “Ask if she has more horses.”
But instead of waiting for Anvil to make a drawing, Thatch waves to get the goblin’s attention and—pantomiming riding a horse—gallops up and down whinnying.
The goblin nods enthusiastically. “Yes, horses. Like that.”
“How many?... Ask him how many!” Thatch practically shouts, while starting in on a new round of pantomimed questions. Unbelievably, he manages to get his question across.
“She had five, but you killed two, so now she has… less than five!”
(Fajitas: >shrug< His hands are tied… he can’t do math.)
Thatch’s eyes light up. If Sheesak has more of their horses, maybe Bob is among them.
Eva shakes her head. “I do not believe that we’re playing charades with a goblin.”
###
When the party members decide they have learned all they can from the goblin, Anvil takes him into the woods out of sight and sound of the village to “let him go.” Since they were up for all of the previous night, both Lira and Annika take late morning naps through lunch in order to rest and recover their spells.
Reyu, meanwhile, makes inquiries among the peasants until someone directs her to the peasant who slew the worg with his homemade spear. She finds him repairing a worn sandal, which he immediately puts aside, bowing at her approach.
Reyu shakes her head. “It is not necessary to… honor me with such a gesture.”
“Of course not, Lady,” he says, bowing again, even more deeply this time.
“What is your name?”
The peasant blanches. “Mikaro, Lady.”
“Mikaro,” Reyu addresses him solemnly, “you acted with much bravery last night. Your deeds have made you a great man among your people.”
It is clear that the peasant has no idea what to say to this. “Yes, Lady.”
Reyu had hoped that Mikaro might be less fearful than the other peasants she had met in the Sovereignty. She had thought perhaps that a man willing to defend his home with his life against attacking goblins and worgs might be open to thinking about a different way of living, that he would not be so easily cowed once again. Instead, it seems that he—like so many others she has tried to talk to—would rather she just beat him and have it over with. At least then, she reflects, he would know what was expected of him.
Instead, Reyu takes out her spare short-spear, and hands it to Mikaro. “Here. In case your village is in danger again, you should be equipped to defend it.”
Mikaro glances around warily.
“It is all right,” Reyu assures him. “It is my gift to give, and yours to receive… And Lord Fau Meen’s men are occupied elsewhere.”
Mikaro bows low, and accepts the gift. “Th—Thank you, Lady.”
She smiles back. “My name is Reyu.”
Mikaro merely bows silently and hastily departs back to his hut, spear clutched in his hands.
