|
|
Once again, I was astonished beyond the point of speech. Well, nearly, anyway. It takes a lot to get me to shut up. But the idea that the near-omnipotent, all-seeing Old Ones could either find something hidden from their powers of observation or, still worse, be beyond their ability to influence events at a distance seemed incredible. The Old One might have spotted my state of speechlessness and was covering for me, or perhaps he just didn't care. In any case, he went on smoothly, addressing us all in turn with subtle motions of his vast head. "We have detected probes against our secrets, delicate magics executed with skill and talent, almost too subtle to be of Goblin origins." The Old One harrumphed, sounding like a schoolteacher addressing a particularly recalcitrant class who had, once again, failed to complete their homework on time. "Pilfering from our lore is a practice we thought you had long done away with," the Old One said, displeasure suddenly radiating from every nuance in his speech and motion of his body, "But somebody seems to be trying it again." I was unsure at the time, but I would later discover - after a certain amount of delving into dusty history books in the public library - that this was a coded reference to what has become known as the Common Cause Pact. It seems that Goblins have always been more than a little acquisitive of others' secrets. We have certainly acquired technologies from the surface world of the humans in recent times and made them an integral part of our own existence - especially where the human technology is more reliable, or just plain cheaper - than any equivalent magic. It's just common sense to use the best, and I'm sure we paid more than a few humans handsomely for the expertise. But before that - long before, when humans were still scratching out a living from the forests - one of the earliest of the Goblin clans delving in the deepness traded secrets with the Old Ones, although always on terms which seemed equitable at the time but turned out to subtly favour the Old Ones when inspected with the benefit of hindsight. It seemed that in millennia past, the Old Ones valued their privacy and their quietness - personally, I have every sympathy - and the sounds and the potential disruption of Goblins energetically burrowing in the rock above their heads was intrinsically distressing to them. The Old Ones skilfully guided the negotiation the Pact and contrived to present my ancestors with certain magical secrets: tunnelling techniques to make the construction of caverns much easier and much quieter. They also gave us the secret of the transit tube - effectively, instantaneous travel through solid rock - so that fewer physical tunnels would be required and, we would realise much later, so that the society of Goblins would remain singular and unfragmented. But my ancestors weren't satisfied with the bargain and contrived to steal another secret from the Old Ones: the ability to dispose of rock cut from the caverns within the walls themselves, so avoiding the immensely tedious task of hauling the spoil to the surface and depositing it in mountainous heaps, where it was at risk of attracting attention from itinerant humans. Unsurprisingly, the Old Ones were mightily displeased with this magical thievery, once they had discovered their loss. They became more secretive, retreated still further from the ken of most Goblins - although not quite to mythical status, as seemed to have happened for the surface population - and remaining hidden in their own network of caverns - larger and much less populous than our own. "And you think Garrick is behind this?" I asked, my investigative instincts coming to the fore automatically, despite my earlier confusion. "We do," the Old One confirmed, his voice deep and once again calm, "Although I doubt we could prove it to the satisfaction of our Laws, or your own." I cocked my head, professional curiosity overcoming my sense of awe. "Our own probes," the Old One went on, "Honed and refined over aeons, are being deflected, misled or blocked. Now we cannot rely on magic to keep track of everything in the worlds above." That, I surmised, meant both the caverns of the Goblins and the surface world of the humans. Gumshoe glanced sideways at Rosie; I guess both of them had picked up the inference that people were being watched. The Old One suddenly reared up, his head towering thirty feet above us, causing all three of us to stand and attempt a step backwards - in all three cases, successfully prevented by the stone furniture. "So, Detectives," he said, the subsonic rumble again adding emphasis, "Will you help us track down this Garrick?" Everybody in the world seemed to want to lay their claws on my old tutor. I had no problem with that. "Sure," I replied laconically, sitting down again and taking a cigarette packet and match-book from my coat pocket, "Tell me what you know."
|
Part 75