Goblin Reign 01: Goblin by Gerhard Gehrke

Author:Gerhard Gehrke [Gehrke, Gerhard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 2_read, Funtasy_VariousAuthors, -new
Publisher: Lucas Ross Publishing
Published: 2019-03-07T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

MORNING IN SPICY’S house allowed little in the way of reading time. His routine of washing up in the basin and eating breakfast hadn’t given him the opportunity to even check the title of his borrowed book, now tucked under his bedroll. But just like every morning, even now when his father was missing, his mother had prepared breakfast and the house was spotless.

His sister, Thistle, wore her brown locks up in ribbons of blue. Her fingers were stained from using the charcoal pencils for her apprentice work. She handed Spicy a bowl of rice and red beans.

“You didn’t have those ribbons yesterday,” Spicy said.

“They were a present. Rime gave them to me yesterday evening at the fire.”

Mother was already out front washing out her own breakfast bowl in a bucket of dishwater. She peered in through the open door periodically as Spicy and Thistle ate.

“You know what Rime wants,” Spicy said in a low voice.

“I think he’s sweet.”

“He just wants to nail you.”

Thistle made a face. “You’re a pig. He tells me you missed yesterday. And that One Stone and the others were picking on you.”

“Among his other faults, Rime has a big mouth. So I hear Sage Somni is going somewhere.”

“Oh? And who told you that?”

Spicy set down a spoonful of rice and leaned close. “He did. I was by last night.”

“You’re not supposed to go over and bother him,” Thistle hissed. “If Mother finds out—”

“She won’t. And you’re not going to say anything.”

Thistle’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “And what if I do? Mother. Oh, Mother,” she mock-called. “Spicy’s been a naughty little goblin. No, he hasn’t gotten into the sweets. It’s not even him sneaking a peek in through the Grundles’ bedroom shutters while they’re making babies. He visited the old sage again and was reading. Maybe even stole another book. Such a naughty, naughty little brother.”

“Quit it.”

“Don’t worry. I probably won’t say anything. For now. I guess it depends on what my silence is worth.”

Their mother entered and pointed outside. “Go wash your dishes, both of you. I have to get to the fields.”

As Spicy and Thistle ate their last mouthfuls and cleaned their bowls, he said, “I was thinking I’d stay home today. My stomach is unsettled. Perhaps the deer meat wasn’t cooked enough.”

His mother was lacing her sandals. “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll be with Huntmaster Sorrel this morning, and you’ll continue working on your skills with the other boys. We’ve been over this.”

Spicy was silent and his jaw clenched.

“Or,” his mother continued, “you come with me to the paddies. Your choice.”

Bowl washed, he gathered his bow and arrows and pulled on his shoes. Rime was waiting for him at the end of the row of homes and they went down to the hunting lodge together.

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