Read Online In The Coils Of The Snake by Clare B. Dunkle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clare B. Dunkle
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little girl. He didn’t test her because he didn’t need to. She
had a lovely elvish face and long blond
hair, but when he lifted her hands to look at them, they were a goblin’s
hands. The slender elf fingers were unnaturally long and bony, and the
fingernails twisted into claws. He stared at the little goblin paws, his anger
ebbing away into sadness.
“You’re very pretty,” he told her gently, “but
you’re not an elf. If you came to live with me, all my children would start
having night mares. You can tell your pages that you were the most
frightening thing the elf lord saw tonight.
You’re more terrible than the fiercest monster
because you’re a goblin who looks like an elf.” Trina giggled, pleased
to be distinctive in some way even if she didn’t understand how, and Nir
climbed slowly to his feet again, inexpressibly sad.
“Well,
elf lord, are you content?” asked Marak Catspaw, gestur ing at the line of
captured elves.
“Content?
No,” sighed Nir, still looking down at the bright little face. “But I can see that the women are treated
humanely,” he added with an effort,
glancing up. “At least they seem well fed.”
“You’ll
honor the terms of the treaty, then?” Catspaw continued, and
the elf lord nodded.
He
walked over to his band of elves, the goblin King beside him. Nir
brought the five unmarried women forward with a gesture, but they wouldn’t have been hard to pick out anyway.
All five were sob bing in terror.
“They speak
only elvish,” he noted. “Shall I translate?”
“I speak
elvish,” responded the goblin King, annoyed.
Catspaw
surveyed their frightened faces. They were pretty enough, he thought moodily; for pity’s sake, all elf women were
pretty. There was a sameness
about these five that prevented any one from attract ing attention. He thought of Miranda’s auburn hair and
warm smile. It would take an amazing elf, he
decided wrathfully, to make him give her up.
But Marak Catspaw
was a King who had trained his whole life for
kingship, and he gave no sign of his feelings toward them. With great
courtesy, he coaxed a name out of each sobbing girl. They wailed and turned
away from the touch of that horrible paw, but he managed to test them for magic
without provoking too much of an outburst.
Nothing but a few sparks rewarded his patient efforts. They weren’t a very distinguished group. Not one
was from the high families, and not one was worth his Miranda, he
decided in relief.
But the goblin King
couldn’t give up so easily. He owed his people an elf bride if possible.
Frowning, he walked down the line of elves,
watching as they stepped back, shuddering, or closed their eyes in horror.
Nir walked with him, his heart sinking. He knew what would happen next.
The goblin King
reached the children. Horrified, they were also fascinated,
as curious children of any race are likely to be. Among them were two young girls with black eyes, he noted; perhaps one of them would do. Then he stopped in surprise.
Standing with the older children was
a young woman with the black eyes he had been seeking. He turned to the
elf lord, angry and suspicious.
“Why
wasn’t she with the other unmarried women?” he demanded.
“She
isn’t old enough to be married,” the elf replied evenly. “She doesn’t
reach her marriage moon until almost a year from now.”
“Then
she’s seventeen,” concluded the goblin. “That’s old enough to
be married.”
“That is not old enough,” answered the elf lord with some heat. “She won’t be a woman until the third spring
moon. She’s still a child.”
“That’s just
custom,” scoffed Marak Catspaw. “Many goblin women marry at seventeen, and humans, too. My grandmother mar ried
at sixteen,” he added coolly.
“Monster!”
snarled the elf lord in revulsion, and he turned his back on the goblin,
glaring out at the stars. No elf man, no matter how immoral or depraved, could even imagine marrying a girl before the full moon of
had a lovely elvish face and long blond
hair, but when he lifted her hands to look at them, they were a goblin’s
hands. The slender elf fingers were unnaturally long and bony, and the
fingernails twisted into claws. He stared at the little goblin paws, his anger
ebbing away into sadness.
“You’re very pretty,” he told her gently, “but
you’re not an elf. If you came to live with me, all my children would start
having night mares. You can tell your pages that you were the most
frightening thing the elf lord saw tonight.
You’re more terrible than the fiercest monster
because you’re a goblin who looks like an elf.” Trina giggled, pleased
to be distinctive in some way even if she didn’t understand how, and Nir
climbed slowly to his feet again, inexpressibly sad.
“Well,
elf lord, are you content?” asked Marak Catspaw, gestur ing at the line of
captured elves.
“Content?
No,” sighed Nir, still looking down at the bright little face. “But I can see that the women are treated
humanely,” he added with an effort,
glancing up. “At least they seem well fed.”
“You’ll
honor the terms of the treaty, then?” Catspaw continued, and
the elf lord nodded.
He
walked over to his band of elves, the goblin King beside him. Nir
brought the five unmarried women forward with a gesture, but they wouldn’t have been hard to pick out anyway.
All five were sob bing in terror.
“They speak
only elvish,” he noted. “Shall I translate?”
“I speak
elvish,” responded the goblin King, annoyed.
Catspaw
surveyed their frightened faces. They were pretty enough, he thought moodily; for pity’s sake, all elf women were
pretty. There was a sameness
about these five that prevented any one from attract ing attention. He thought of Miranda’s auburn hair and
warm smile. It would take an amazing elf, he
decided wrathfully, to make him give her up.
But Marak Catspaw
was a King who had trained his whole life for
kingship, and he gave no sign of his feelings toward them. With great
courtesy, he coaxed a name out of each sobbing girl. They wailed and turned
away from the touch of that horrible paw, but he managed to test them for magic
without provoking too much of an outburst.
Nothing but a few sparks rewarded his patient efforts. They weren’t a very distinguished group. Not one
was from the high families, and not one was worth his Miranda, he
decided in relief.
But the goblin King
couldn’t give up so easily. He owed his people an elf bride if possible.
Frowning, he walked down the line of elves,
watching as they stepped back, shuddering, or closed their eyes in horror.
Nir walked with him, his heart sinking. He knew what would happen next.
The goblin King
reached the children. Horrified, they were also fascinated,
as curious children of any race are likely to be. Among them were two young girls with black eyes, he noted; perhaps one of them would do. Then he stopped in surprise.
Standing with the older children was
a young woman with the black eyes he had been seeking. He turned to the
elf lord, angry and suspicious.
“Why
wasn’t she with the other unmarried women?” he demanded.
“She
isn’t old enough to be married,” the elf replied evenly. “She doesn’t
reach her marriage moon until almost a year from now.”
“Then
she’s seventeen,” concluded the goblin. “That’s old enough to
be married.”
“That is not old enough,” answered the elf lord with some heat. “She won’t be a woman until the third spring
moon. She’s still a child.”
“That’s just
custom,” scoffed Marak Catspaw. “Many goblin women marry at seventeen, and humans, too. My grandmother mar ried
at sixteen,” he added coolly.
“Monster!”
snarled the elf lord in revulsion, and he turned his back on the goblin,
glaring out at the stars. No elf man, no matter how immoral or depraved, could even imagine marrying a girl before the full moon of
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