did One-Eye know of any treasure of the Elder Age?
Well, she told herself, there was only one way to find out, and the simple fact of being under the Hill was thrilling enough—for the moment, at least. She wondered how far downward the passage led, but even as she did so, she felt the ground drop abruptly at her feet, and without further warning the narrow walls at either side of her opened to reveal a huge underground canyon, broadening out far beyond Maddy’s field of vision into a labyrinth of tunnels and a vastness of caverns and halls.
For a long time Maddy could do nothing but watch and wonder. The passage had come to a sharp stairway cut into the rock face; this led downward into a vast gallery, occasionally intersecting with other walkways and cavern entrances set at intervals down the canyon walls, with what seemed to be suspended catwalks, illuminated by torches or hanging lanterns, on the distant far side.
Maddy had expected a single cave, maybe even a single passage. Instead there were hundreds—no, thousands—of caves and passages. From the bottom of the canyon came a sound of water, and although it was too dark—in spite of the lanterns—to see the river itself, Maddy guessed it to be broad and fast-moving; its voice was like that of a wolf with a throatful of rocks.
Here too there were spells and signatures, there were green fingers of phosphorescence, nuggets of mica studded the walls, and wherever there was a trickle of water against the rock, musky flowers cast their tendrils: the pale, sad lilies of World Below.
“Gods,” said Maddy. “Where do I start?”
Well, to begin with, more light. Raising her hand, she cast
Sól
—the sun—so that her fingertips blazed and the tiny crystals embedded in the steps and walls flared with sudden brilliance.
It was not nearly enough to light the vastness ahead, but even so, she felt a little better, if only because there was less chance of her falling down the stairway. At the same time, she thought she caught sight of something at her elbow, something that shrank quickly into the shadows as her light shone out, and, almost without thinking, she cast
Naudr
like a net and pulled it in with a flick of her fingers.
“
You
again!” she exclaimed when she saw what she had caught.
The goblin spat but could not escape.
“Stop that!” said Maddy, drawing the rune a little tighter.
The goblin pulled a face but kept still.
“That’s better,” said Maddy. “Now, Smá-rakki”—the goblin made a
pff!
sound—“I want you to stay right here with me. No slinking off this time, do you understand?”
“Pff!”
said the goblin again. “All this fuss for a nip of ale.” All the same, he did not move but glared at Maddy with his amber eyes, lips drawn back over his pointed teeth.
“Why were you following me?”
The goblin shrugged. “Curiosity, kennet?”
Maddy laughed. “Plus, I know your name.”
The goblin said nothing, but his eyes gleamed.
“
A named thing is a tamed thing.
That’s it, isn’t it?”
Still the goblin said nothing.
Maddy smiled at the unexpected piece of luck. She was not sure how long her control over him would last, but if she could have an ally—however reluctant—in World Below, then maybe her task would be a simpler one. “Now listen to me, Smá-rakki—”
“They call me Sugar,” said the goblin sullenly.
“What?”
“Sugar. You deaf? Short for Sugar-and-Sack. Well? You don’t think any of us go round tellin’ folk our
real
names, do you?”
“Sugar-and-
Sack
?” repeated Maddy.
Sugar scowled. “Gødfolk names are like that,” he said. “Sugar-and-Sack, Peck-in-the-Crown, Pickle-Nearest-the-Wind. I don’t go round laughin’ at
your
name, do I?”
“Sorry.
Sugar,
” said Maddy, trying to keep a straight face.
“Right. No harm done,” said Sugar with dignity. “Now, what exactly can I do you for?”
Maddy leaned closer. “I need a guide.”
“You need yer bleedin’ head seein’ to,”
Well, she told herself, there was only one way to find out, and the simple fact of being under the Hill was thrilling enough—for the moment, at least. She wondered how far downward the passage led, but even as she did so, she felt the ground drop abruptly at her feet, and without further warning the narrow walls at either side of her opened to reveal a huge underground canyon, broadening out far beyond Maddy’s field of vision into a labyrinth of tunnels and a vastness of caverns and halls.
For a long time Maddy could do nothing but watch and wonder. The passage had come to a sharp stairway cut into the rock face; this led downward into a vast gallery, occasionally intersecting with other walkways and cavern entrances set at intervals down the canyon walls, with what seemed to be suspended catwalks, illuminated by torches or hanging lanterns, on the distant far side.
Maddy had expected a single cave, maybe even a single passage. Instead there were hundreds—no, thousands—of caves and passages. From the bottom of the canyon came a sound of water, and although it was too dark—in spite of the lanterns—to see the river itself, Maddy guessed it to be broad and fast-moving; its voice was like that of a wolf with a throatful of rocks.
Here too there were spells and signatures, there were green fingers of phosphorescence, nuggets of mica studded the walls, and wherever there was a trickle of water against the rock, musky flowers cast their tendrils: the pale, sad lilies of World Below.
“Gods,” said Maddy. “Where do I start?”
Well, to begin with, more light. Raising her hand, she cast
Sól
—the sun—so that her fingertips blazed and the tiny crystals embedded in the steps and walls flared with sudden brilliance.
It was not nearly enough to light the vastness ahead, but even so, she felt a little better, if only because there was less chance of her falling down the stairway. At the same time, she thought she caught sight of something at her elbow, something that shrank quickly into the shadows as her light shone out, and, almost without thinking, she cast
Naudr
like a net and pulled it in with a flick of her fingers.
“
You
again!” she exclaimed when she saw what she had caught.
The goblin spat but could not escape.
“Stop that!” said Maddy, drawing the rune a little tighter.
The goblin pulled a face but kept still.
“That’s better,” said Maddy. “Now, Smá-rakki”—the goblin made a
pff!
sound—“I want you to stay right here with me. No slinking off this time, do you understand?”
“Pff!”
said the goblin again. “All this fuss for a nip of ale.” All the same, he did not move but glared at Maddy with his amber eyes, lips drawn back over his pointed teeth.
“Why were you following me?”
The goblin shrugged. “Curiosity, kennet?”
Maddy laughed. “Plus, I know your name.”
The goblin said nothing, but his eyes gleamed.
“
A named thing is a tamed thing.
That’s it, isn’t it?”
Still the goblin said nothing.
Maddy smiled at the unexpected piece of luck. She was not sure how long her control over him would last, but if she could have an ally—however reluctant—in World Below, then maybe her task would be a simpler one. “Now listen to me, Smá-rakki—”
“They call me Sugar,” said the goblin sullenly.
“What?”
“Sugar. You deaf? Short for Sugar-and-Sack. Well? You don’t think any of us go round tellin’ folk our
real
names, do you?”
“Sugar-and-
Sack
?” repeated Maddy.
Sugar scowled. “Gødfolk names are like that,” he said. “Sugar-and-Sack, Peck-in-the-Crown, Pickle-Nearest-the-Wind. I don’t go round laughin’ at
your
name, do I?”
“Sorry.
Sugar,
” said Maddy, trying to keep a straight face.
“Right. No harm done,” said Sugar with dignity. “Now, what exactly can I do you for?”
Maddy leaned closer. “I need a guide.”
“You need yer bleedin’ head seein’ to,”
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