Page 19 of The Goblin and The Dancer
But Rosanna spoke up before Paul could.
“I wanted to look in here, Paul. Grik came after me to make sure I was safe. Wasn’t that good of him?”
That took some of the furious wind out of the soldier’s sails. Still, Paul shot Grik a glare of suspicion. Grik tried to look inoffensive and virtuous, not because he wanted to impress Paul, but because the soldier looked like he was only one step away from ripping his head off and was searching for the slightest excuse.
Rosanna gathered up her skirts with a little gesture that seemed delightfully chilly to Grik and crawled out of the cave. Grik started to follow her but then stopped. As soon as Rosanna slipped through, Paul deliberately sat down in front of the entrance, blocking Grik’s exit, unless he outright asked the soldier to move—something he would sooner not do. He did have a little pride.
“Rosanna,” Grik heard Paul say in a low voice. “I’m sorry. Don’t be angry with me. I’m merely worried for you.”
Grik crouched at the end of the tunnel and raged silently. That wasn’t at all what Paul should be apologizing for! Rosanna wasn’t upset about Paul worrying about her. He had hurt Rosanna’s feelings by implying she wasn’t smart, and he hadn’t listened to her. And he hadn’t been worried about her leaving the cave so much as he had been jealous of her spending even a second alone in the company of a goblin.
At that moment, Grik wasn’t sorry one bit that he had hit Paul with a rock.
“It’s all right,” Rosanna murmured, clearly forgiving him even for what he had not apologized for.
Grik fumed. He thought Rosanna was perfect, but did she have to be so good? He wouldn’t mind if she were a little mean to Paul.
“You’re blocking Grik,” Rosanna reminded the soldier sternly.
Paul sounded nauseatingly innocent. “Oh, was I? I hadn’t realized. There. Hey”—more sharply—“what was that you said?”
“Nothing,” Grik mumbled, crawling out of the tunnel. He had actually said “dirty, bullying liar,” under his breath, but he didn’t think it bore repeating.
“Well, we’ve wasted enough time,” said Paul. They had only been in the cave for five minutes, and only because they were waiting on him. He swung an old bit of pipe up towards his shoulder as if it were a rifle and he was on parade, and Grik felt smaller and more crumpled than ever as he looked at the figure that was still tall and proud despite the muck.
Paul cocked his head in a mock bow. “Lead the way, goblin.”
Grik swallowed and looked around. He wasn’t quite as confident as he had let them believe. Finding the goblinways wouldn’t be quite that easy. All goblins had a good sense of direction and a fine nose that worked well underground, but Grik spent less time in the tunnels than most goblins, and he wasn’t quite as practiced as his comrades.
If only he had spent less time trying to belong in the elf world above, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with an elf in the first place and would have never gotten into such a situation.
He shoved that thought away and spoke aloud.
“This tunnel will lead to other maintenance tunnels; it has to. Once I’m in a main tunnel, then I can find a goblinway. It’s”—he cleared his throat—“simple.”
He turned around in all directions, sniffing carefully. Goblins’ olfactory senses could translate the smells around them into a visualization of their unseen surroundings. He tried to ignore the faint smell of elf that was distracting him from the other odors.
He closed his eyes and sniffed deeper.So many motivations churned through his heart. The desire to prove Paul wrong, the need to be Rosanna’s hero, and the suffocating shame that he desperately needed to assuage by doing everything he could to redeem his horrible actions on the bridge.
He focused as hard as he could. If only he had stopped this morning at the town hall and gotten a tunnel flyer!
He shook his head, brushing the thought away, and listened to the sounds of plinking and trickling that echoed all around.
“This way,” he said, heading to the right—heading north. He almost didn’t expect the other two to follow, but they did.
He would find a goblinway. He would get them out. Instead of being the villain, he could finally be the hero.
They didn’t ever have to know the truth. He could let them believe that he was innocent. If he did well, he could be their savior. And, maybe, he could win Rosanna’s heart.
Chapter Five
Water dripping, ragged breathing, feet shuffling across stone. They were the only sounds.
Grik clutched his glow stick a little more tightly and gave it a shake, listening to the reassuring tumble of pebbles as they clacked against one another, shedding a little more cool, pink light ahead of Grik.
He looked back over his shoulder to check on the other two.
Rosanna smiled at him reassuringly. Despite everything, Grik’s insides did a little flurried dance of gladness at being the recipient of that smile. The dance died as he looked past her to the soldier. Grik noticed that Paul was using the pipe as a sort of crutch. His leg must be truly bothering him.
