In A Glass Grimmly Part 15

"I do," said Jack. "But I don't understand. What does this mean, 'One Hand'?"

"What do you think?" said the goblin, his long goblin fingers tapping his sagging paunch.

"I don't know," Jack replied.

"Sure you do," the goblin said. Jack, alarmed and confused, turned and moved on.

The frog was pleading now: "Jack, we have to find Jill."

Jack shook himself as if he'd been asleep. What was wrong with him? He felt as if a fog were before his eyes. Jill had been stolen! Come on! he thought. Wake up! Go find her!

And then he saw a small clearing among the weapon-smiths. In the center of the clearing, on a stone altar, was a sword lying on a blanket of crushed velvet. Its blade was about the length of Jack's arm. Its handle was iron wrapped in leather. Its cross-guard was simplicity itself, and its pommel was just an iron ball. It was neither long nor short, bright nor dull, new nor old.

And yet there was something about the sword that was different from the others that Jack had seen. There seemed to be nothing special about it, Jack thought, except that it looked exactly as he had always believed a sword should look. In fact, he suspected that he recognized it from somewhere.

Jack walked up to it. He circled the table. He reached for it. It seemed to leap into his hand, like metal filings to a magnet. Jack admired it. Then he recognized it.

It looked just like the sword he wielded in his dreams.

"It likes you," said a goblin who was suddenly standing by his shoulder. "That is a good sign."

Jack held it, and it felt like an extension of his arm. "It's perfect," Jack said.

"Jack!" hissed the frog.

"That's right," said the goblin. "It is the sword you've always dreamed of. Go ahead," he smiled. "Give it a try."

Jack nodded and stepped back from the table. He whipped the sword through the air. The wind seemed to sing with its pa.s.sing. All the goblins at all the stalls nearby stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Jack. He swung it again. The goblins' black eyes silently followed the motion of the sword.

The frog pushed his head out of Jack's pocket. "Jack, can you hear me?"

Jack did not reply.

"What do you want to be, my boy?" the goblin asked.

And without hesitation, without even realizing he was saying it, Jack said, "I want to be respected."

"With that sword, you will be feared by all," the goblin a.s.sured him.

Jack thrust the sword again. "I want to be admired," Jack said, more forcefully this time.

"You will be!" said the goblin. "You will be!"

"Jack?" cried the frog.

Jack spun with the sword and cut the air. He was shouting. "I want everyone to like me!"

"Oh, they will! They will!" cried the goblin. "Everyone will like you!" And then he added, "And it will only cost your hand."

Jack saw himself stabbing a boy who looked quite a lot like Marie-when the sword point dipped. He let it come to rest on the ground. Slowly, he turned to the goblin. "What does that mean?" he asked. "I don't understand."

"Not a single gold piece. Not a single copper. Nothing but your hand." Then the goblin added, "Your left one, of course! Not your sword hand!" And he smiled, like he was doing Jack a favor.

Okay, I've got a question for you.

If the goblin is lying, and the sword is just a normal sword, trading your hand for it is probably a bad deal. Right?

But I can tell you right now-and I know this from my extensive research on the subject-that the goblin is notlying.

Anyone who gives up his hand for a goblin sword will gain all the power of the sword. This sword will give Jack what he has always most desired. Quite truly.

And it will only cost his left hand.

Think of what you most desire. Really think of it.

Okay.

Would you give your hand for it?

Jack stood and stared at the goblin man. It had felt like a game, playing with the sword, until now.

Until he knew that he could have it.

And that it had a price.

"Uh, Jack . . ." said the frog. "Jack . . . is this a joke?"

The goblin man said, "You will be admired by everyone . . . everyone . . ." Then he said, "You could give your right hand, if it's easier to part with."

"Everyone would like me . . . everyone . . ." Jack murmured.

"Jack, can you hear me?" the frog pleaded. "Jack, this is crazy! It's just a sword . . . Let's find Jill and get out of here . . ."

But Jack did not hear him. He was saying, "They will like me. They will love me. They will fear me . . ." He knew it was true. He could feel the sword's power humming up his arm.

"Jack! JACK!" The frog shouted.

Jack gripped the sword firmly in his right hand.

He looked levelly at the goblin.

Jack nodded.

"Get the apothecary!" the goblin shouted. In a moment an apothecary appeared, a short squat goblin with a black carrying case. He came and took some bottles and bandages from his bag.

The frog was screaming, "STOP IT, JACK, STOP IT!"

Jack paid no attention. "Put your left hand on the velvet," said the goblin sword-smith. Jack placed his left hand on the velvet.

"With your right hand, raise the sword into the air," said the goblin. With his right hand, Jack raised the sword into the air.

"When you're ready, you may cut off your left hand," said the goblin.

Jack's heart caught.

"Don't do it," the frog whispered frantically. "Jack, you will be sorry. So, so sorry."

Jack thought of Marie, laughing at him. He thought of his father. It'll prove that you're a man. He held his breath.

The blade began to sing.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Death or the Lady Once upon a time, a girl-limp and unconscious-was carried through the underground darkness of the Goblin Kingdom. She was brought to a ma.s.sive black palace. It had tall, spindly towers that seemed to have been shaped by the slow drip-drip-drip of underground water. Wings and annexes extended from its center like great black spiders' legs. Banners of many colors flew from the ramparts and towers-but in the darkness of the earth, each looked merely like the fluttering shadows of colors. In each of the thousand windows, an orange flame flickered.

But Jill did not see the towering black castle. She was, as I said, unconscious.

She did not feel herself pa.s.sed from the strong hands of the fruit merchants into the even stronger hands of the goblin guards. She did not know that she was being carried through dark hallways deep in the belly of the castle that stood deep in the belly of the earth. She did not see the goblin with the careworn face and the deep, old eyes examining her. She did not feel the heat of his skin so near he could have kissed her, nor did she smell the stale breath of his mouth. She did not hear him call to a dour goblin who waited in a corner; she did not hear the latches of an ornate case snap open; she did not see the long, strange instrument withdrawn from the case; she did not see its sharp end slowly, so slowly, approach her closed eyelids.

If she had, she doubtless would have screamed.

She did not perceive-either by feeling or by sight-the gentle application of makeup to her face with the long, strange instrument. Not of blue to her eyelids nor blush to her cheeks nor red to her lips. She did not know that her hair was being brushed by gentle goblin hands. She did not feel the coolness of the dank air on her body as she was undressed and redressed in the finest silks. She did not feel herself lifted again.

The first thing that Jill did feel was a pinching tightness on her wrists and ankles. Her eyes were still closed, and she felt woozy. The second thing she felt was that she could not open her mouth. Her eyes flew open.

She was sitting on a high throne in the center of an enormous hall. The ceiling towered overhead. The black stone walls were decked with enormous tapestries thirty feet high. Before her, twenty goblins, clad in plate metal and carrying spears, stood with their backs toward her, and beyond them, in single file, stood a line of goblin men so long it wound straight out of the enormous hall.

Jill tried to open her mouth again and discovered that a broad bolt of fine silk had pinned her lips shut. She tried to lift her hands to remove the gag and found that they were tied with the same fine silk to the arms of the throne. She tried to stand up and found that her ankles were tied to the throne, too.

"She is awake!" announced a goblin with a rich voice, a careworn face, and deep, old eyes.

The long line of goblins began to move. Jill watched in mute fear as the first came before her throne. He wore a bright green velvet suit which clashed hideously with his pale green skin. He swept a giant green hat with an enormous yellow feather from his head. He smiled up at Jill and said, "Your Majesty, you are beautiful."

Jill felt very confused. Your Majesty?

The goblin smiled more broadly. "You are bright like the moon and beautiful like a flower. I see you, and my heart aches."

Despite herself, and despite everything else-the bonds, the gag, the apparent kidnapping-Jill blushed.

The next goblin, festooned with silver fabric, announced, "My Queen, you shine like a diamond." He gazed up into her face. Under his breath, he said, "I have never seen anyone so beautiful."

Jill's cheeks grew hot, and she looked away.

The third goblin told Jill he was stunned by her perfect features. Jill was shocked to discover that, beneath the silken gag, she was smiling.

The fourth goblin said that, now that he had seen her, he would dream of her at night. Again, Jill blushed hotly. The fifth goblin admired every single feature of her face. "Your nose is like a small hill, bright and clean. Your cheeks are like pink pillows. Your hair looks like gra.s.s. Brown gra.s.s. Your head is shaped like a . . ." And so on. Jill giggled to think of someone taking so much interest in the shape of her head.

But by the ninth goblin, Jill was bored.

By the fifteenth goblin, she was testing her silken bonds again.

And by the twenty-eighth goblin, Jill did not care what they thought of her.

Which she found very surprising.

Because, at long last, Jill was being admired-worshipped-for her beauty.

Just as she had always wanted.

And, it turned out, she did not like it at all.

The fortieth goblin did not praise her beauty. Instead, he threw himself on the ground and cried, "Queen, I am devoted to you! You are as rare as ivory, as fresh as the spring. I will risk my very life to be your husband. Will you have me?"

Jill stared. She didn't know what to say. Then she remembered that she couldn't say anything because she was gagged.

But she didn't need to. For there was a sudden movement. Two guards had stepped forward from the line of twenty that stood before the throne. They approached the goblin-suitor and slammed the b.u.t.ts of their spears into the stone floor. They barked: "Will you risk your life to treasure and protect this lady?"

"I will! I will!" cried the goblin.

"Bring forth the casket!" the goblin guards yelled. Four other guards came forward with a great iron casket, suspended between two long poles. "In this casket," barked the guards, every syllable perfectly in time, "are two slips of parchment. One says 'Death!' The other says 'The Lady!' If you choose 'Death!' you will be killed right here on the spot! If you choose 'The Lady!' you will become her husband for all the rest of your days, and you and she will spend countless hours together alone, engaging in whatever pursuits give her pleasure. Do you understand?"

"G.o.d, yes!" the goblin screamed. "Let me choose!"

Jill, on the other hand, did not understand. She fought her silken bonds.

"Submit to blindfolding!" the guards barked, and the goblin was blindfolded. The two soldiers moved behind the blindfolded goblin-suitor and pointed their spears at his back.

The casket was brought directly before the suitor.