Chapter 42

“What’s your name?” I asked the hobgoblin.

“Gripe, my lord.”

“Gripe. I’m playing a little—” I waved my hand toward the bed. “—help the humansgame. If you help me heal this duke, I’ll stand for all of you at the winter court and demand your pardons, should it please you. How does that sound?”

They conferred amongst themselves, then began nodding. “This sounds good,” Gripe said.

“A bargain then.” I too, spat on the floor. The stone groaned in protest as my magic sizzled. “At next sundown, meet me back in this room. Bring with you linlem, wormswort…Oh, and some garlic, just in case that young human can’t find any.”

“Consider it done, my lord,” Gripe said, as they began to slink away.

“Oh, Gripe, one more thing. Who poisoned this man?”

Gripe hesitated, then said, “The loud one’s first son, my lord.”

“Hah. The loud one being the one they call Brithorne, I imagine?”

Gripe nodded. “Believe so.”