CHAPTER 4. OLD AZUEL'S SECRET

Mor woke up when not a trace of the morning dew remained. He was very hungry.
Apparently, corn alone wasn’t enough for dinner after all. Mor thought.
He didn’t feel like going down to the cellars for food just then. He reached for the basket, where a few potatoes should have remained from the day before yesterday. Pulling out four potatoes, Mor ate them with great appetite. If the basket had also held a piece of dried mutton, breakfast would have been perfect. But even without it, Mor satisfied his hunger, and now he wondered what to do with himself today.
Warden Ogl hadn’t given him any tasks, which meant he could spend the day on chores at home. But Mor had no particular desire to do anything. What he wanted, instead, was to go to the meadow. He had loved watching grazing sheep since early childhood. That childhood attachment hadn’t gone anywhere. Mor could still watch for a long time as the slow-moving woolly host turned the blossoming green into unsightly stubble.
Once, as a child, he had even been angry at the sheep for mercilessly devouring the defenseless blades of grass that, as it seemed to him, strained toward the sky with all their might, only to perish, without fail, at the very start of their journey.
This time Mor brought along some skauti that had sat around for an indecently long while. The drink was kept in a small keg. After all, you couldn’t very well go to the meadow with a clay jug or mug, and goblins didn’t know how to make glass bottles. But the Wood-master was a true wizard at his craft. He made kegs the size of a large mug. Their top lid didn’t come off. It had only a small hole in it, stopped with a cork. For fieldwork or outings like this, these keg-mugs were perfect.
Mor thoroughly enjoyed the contents of the keg amid his native countryside. He didn’t get to watch the sheep for long, though. The shepherds decided to drive the flock to a farther meadow. Mor didn’t want to walk that far. After sitting alone a little while longer, he headed back to the goblinum.
After he got home, the question of what to do with himself came up again. Mor flatly refused to take on any household chores, but he didn’t want to laze around all day either. Then the thought occurred to him to stop by the potato field.
That’ll make for a useful walk, actually. I’ll see how the beetles are doing. Maybe the weeds have started coming in already, too. Mor thought as he stepped outside.
He suspected that neither beetles nor weeds could have appeared overnight. Still, Mor was no great expert in such matters, and he worried a great deal about failing to live up to the Warden’s trust. No, no one would punish him if something went wrong. After all, he was only just beginning to learn the finer points of growing potatoes. But the goblinum would talk regardless, saying he hadn’t managed it. And that was something he very much did not want.
Deep in these thoughts, Mor didn’t hear the voice behind him right away. Turning around, he saw an old goblin named Azuel, who lived in the house across the way. The old goblin was sitting on a stone by his dwelling, watching the young goblin closely.
“Did you call me?” Mor asked, not understanding why the old goblin needed him.
Though he knew Azuel, he rarely spoke with him. The old goblin had come to their goblinum only a few years before. Mor didn’t know the details of his arrival, nor had he ever cared to ask. Azuel was a quiet, unremarkable goblin who caused no one any trouble. Besides, he too belonged to the Bignose clan. Everything else about him held little interest for Mor.
His late grandmother, however, had often talked with Azuel and considered him a great expert on the Goblin Forest.
“Yes, I called you. Several times, in fact. But it seems your young ears don’t hear old voices very well,” Azuel answered, without a trace of offense, and added, “Come, sit down. I can see you have plenty of time today.”
Mor came over and sat down on the neighboring stone.
“I hear you’ve taken on your first duties. The Warden entrusted you with the potato field, and yesterday you began tending it. Am I mistaken?” the old goblin asked.
“You’re not mistaken. Except there are three of us working it. Nuk and Vuk are with me. I’m on my way to the field right now, actually. I don’t want the beetles eating everything. It would be embarrassing before the Warden. And I don’t imagine the other goblins would have much good to say about it either.”
“You’re reasoning correctly,” Azuel nodded approvingly. “What’s entrusted to you needs to be watched very closely. Especially where the potato field is concerned. You know yourself what potatoes mean to goblins. And our Warden didn’t choose you by chance. You’re a smart, responsible goblin. I noticed that long ago. That’s why I chose you too. You’ll see, your future will turn out far better than your present. If, of course, you yourself want it to.”
The old goblin spoke these last words with such an air of mystery that Mor couldn’t help growing wary. It suddenly seemed to him that Azuel knew something about him that no one else knew.
Mor looked at him in surprise and asked:
“What did you choose me for? If you need your roof covered with fresh reeds, I won’t manage that alone. And I’ve never done anything like it, anyway. You’d be better off asking the Wood-master. He knows roofs.”
“I have no need to ask the Wood-master, or any other master, for anything. My house is perfectly fine. I chose you to let you in on a secret I’ve kept for many decades now. The time has come to reveal it. It concerns not only me, but all of us. And I’m certain that, in our whole goblinum, you alone are worthy of knowing it.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Mor, understanding nothing.
Just a little while ago, the only thing on his mind had been beetles and weeds in the field, and now this old goblin was about to reveal some great secret to him.
“I’m talking, perhaps, about the most valuable thing there is in our forest. And it happens to be located on that very land where you worked yesterday. You’ve seen the anthills near the potato fields, haven’t you? Perhaps you’ve even been near them?”
“Of course I’ve seen them, but I haven’t gone near them. Why would I? They’re just anthills. Yes, there are a lot of them. Probably nowhere else has that many in one place. But ordinary ants live in them. We don’t even eat them. So what could possibly be valuable about that?” Mor asked, now a little irritated.
“You’re right. There’s no other place with that many anthills. It’s the strongest ant family there is. And it has one remarkable ability that no other creature in the Goblin Forest possesses—and perhaps no creature in all the rest of the world, either, who knows,” Azuel answered calmly, paying no attention to the young goblin’s irritation.
“What ability are you talking about? Don’t tell me you’re going to talk about that magic drink that gives ants great strength? That old fairy tale is ancient, and has long since gathered dust. No one even tells it anymore, not even to amuse little goblins. Why have you decided to drag it out of oblivion now?” Mor asked, no longer irritated at all, but with something closer to a smile.
He thought the old goblin simply wanted attention and so was ready to tell the most incredible stories.
“You probably think I’ve completely lost my mind, and that I’m ready to make up anything at all, just so someone will pay attention to me? Not at all, Mor. My body is frail, and yes, my head fails me sometimes. But right now it’s as clear as the sky on a cloudless day.”
“Well, fine. Then tell me your secret, already. You haven’t forgotten that I’m on my way to check the potato field, have you?” Mor asked, and irritation crept into his voice once again.
“Azuel looked at him closely and said, still just as calm as before:
“Impatience is a vice of youth, and patience is a virtue of old age. But it’s better to be young and impatient than to have patience and be old. I take no offense at your irritation. Were I in your place, I’d probably have reacted the same way. Now I will reveal the secret. It will be a long story, so be patient. And believe me, everything I’m about to tell you is true.
“This happened a very, very long time ago. Even before your grandmother’s parents were born. On one cool spring day, a young goblin, almost like you are now, was working in those very fields where you all worked yesterday. He had been given the task of preparing the ground for planting potatoes.
“As it happened, he was working alone.
“Then, pausing once again to rest, he noticed a boar right at the edge of the forest. It was poking at the ground with its snout, as if searching for food.
“The goblin was quite surprised, because forest animals didn’t dare show themselves near goblin fields. He knew well that all the clans fiercely guarded the territory around the goblinum. There had even once been watch posts near the fields and meadows. Day and night they drove off uninvited guests. And whoever did venture in always ended up as prey.
“This went on for many years. In time, the animals learned well whose land it was, and stopped approaching the goblins’ domain. Fear settled into them for good. The watch posts were no longer needed.
“That was why the goblin looked at the boar with such surprise. Perhaps the creature was simply too foolish, or too curious. But its father and mother clearly hadn’t gotten around to explaining to it that wandering onto goblin lands was dangerous to its life.
“The goblin noticed something else, too. The boar looked thin. Perhaps it was hunger, of all things, that had brought it here.
“Be that as it may, the shaggy adventurer turned its head, spotted the anthills, and began slowly making its way toward them.
“At first the goblin decided to do as he should, and even reached for his sword. But curiosity proved stronger. Nothing was growing in the fields yet anyway, and the boar was clearly headed elsewhere. The goblin decided to observe this unexpected guest, cautiously drawing closer to it.
“The boar approached one of the anthills and began tearing it open with its snout. By all appearances, it was trying to reach the very center, where the ants kept their stores of food.
“Only a little time passed before the boar raised its head. Its snout looked thoroughly pleased, and its jaws were working busily at something.
“Suddenly, strange things began happening to the animal.
“The fur on its back bristled. Its upright ears stretched even higher, and its tail snapped straight, coming to look like a hairy iron rod.
“It even seemed to the goblin that drops of black blood were falling from the boar’s snout onto the ground. Coming right up close, he saw that it wasn’t blood at all. Ants were tumbling out of its two nostrils, one after another. They evidently had not much cared for the place they’d ended up in.
“The boar, though, noticed nothing around it. It was as if it now had only one burning desire. It fixed its eyes on the neighboring anthill and lunged toward it. This time the animal worked its snout far more energetically. Its whole body was literally brimming with a strength of which, just moments before, there had not been even a trace.
“Very quickly the boar reached its target. Raising its head, it once again began greedily chewing at something and smacking its lips contentedly.
“Having finished off its second portion, the animal suddenly dropped onto its hind legs and let out a loud grunt, its snout thrown back toward the sky. While the goblin was still trying to work out whether this was truly an ordinary boar, the animal’s eyes lit up with a greedy gleam, already fixed on the third anthill. Now the boar knew exactly what it wanted. It rushed toward it.
“At that moment the goblin couldn’t hold back any longer. He decided to intervene, certain that some kind of sorcery was at work here, and that if the animal wasn’t stopped at once, a true boar-werewolf would soon stand before him.
“While the boar was completely absorbed in its work, the goblin swung his sword in a sharp stroke. But at the last instant the animal suddenly lurched to one side. The blade whistled past, its very tip barely grazing the coarse bristles on its flank.
“At last this lucky raider of anthills noticed the goblin. It gave him a menacing look, its whole bearing declaring that everything here belonged to it. For several moments the two of them stood and stared at each other, as if sizing up each other’s strength.
“The goblin noticed the sword troubled the boar. Its eyes kept darting back to it. Some unpleasant memory of that sharp thing in the two-legged enemy’s hand must have stirred in its mind, because the boar began backing away slowly. Luckily for the goblin, the animal still hadn’t fully grasped what power was now held in its body, or it would certainly have charged.
“The goblin watched the boar’s eyes turn red, as if turning into two clots of blood, while its body began to swell. The animal growled at him, as if conceding that it had lost today, but would certainly return. Then it wheeled around sharply and dashed for the forest.
“The goblin let out a sigh of relief and lowered his sword. He was eager to examine the ravaged anthills. After all, it was there that something existed which had turned an ordinary forest boar into so formidable a beast, one that had fairly radiated power.
“Before he could even reach the nearest anthill, he heard a loud sound, something like a hard blow struck against an empty barrel. It came from exactly the direction the boar had fled. The goblin looked around, but he saw no sign of the animal there. He decided to find out what had happened first, and return to the anthills after. They weren’t going anywhere, and the strange sound was stirring his curiosity more and more.
“He walked slowly toward the edge of the forest, holding his sword at the ready and peering closely into the trees. After what he’d just seen happen to the boar, the young goblin was ready for anything. But there was still no one around.
“Almost at the edge of the forest, he suddenly felt something soft underfoot. Lifting his foot, the goblin saw a piece of boar hide. Looking carefully around the meadow, he noticed scraps of the boar’s carcass scattered here and there. A little farther on, right at the edge of the trees, lay a great red mess, and small and large pieces of the boar hung from the branches. Its head was there too, entirely unharmed, apart from the fact that the rest of its body was gone.
“Surveying the grisly scene, the goblin realized that the boar had swelled up and simply burst. He remembered how the animal had begun swelling even as it fled. There was no doubt left now that whatever had killed it was something it had eaten inside the anthill.
“Whatever it was, it had first filled the boar with incredible strength, and then killed it.
“The young goblin had never seen wonders like this before. He even began to grow wary of ants, which until that very day he had paid no attention to at all, never once noticing the anthills near the fields.
“Now it seemed to him that these were no ordinary ants living here, but true ant-sorcerers, capable of brewing some kind of magic potion. The goblin firmly resolved to have nothing more to do with them, and to go calmly back to his work, as though nothing had happened.
“However, passing by the anthills, he still couldn’t master his curiosity. Crouching down by the nearest ravaged anthill, the goblin began examining it closely. Not a single ant remained inside. The neighboring anthill, though, was fairly swarming with them, and was already gradually regaining its former shape. The goblin guessed that the ants first worked together to rebuild one ruined home, then moved on to the next.
“He went on studying the torn-open ant dwelling, not entirely sure himself what he hoped to find.
“Scattered through the dirt were thin twigs, the dried remains of beetles and larvae, small scraps of leaves. All of it lay mixed into one disordered mass. The boar had shown no concern at all for the anthill’s condition while it searched for food.
“And then something strange caught his eye.
“At first it seemed to him that two large, light-brown caterpillars lay there. They rested motionless side by side. From one of them something thick and dark red was oozing, like blood, while the other looked entirely whole.
“The goblin carefully picked up the whole one and turned it over, examining it from every side.
“It was about the size of a goblin’s finger, and looked quite unusual. He had never seen a creature like it before.
“Though he knew caterpillars well enough.
“Whenever he grew tired of potatoes, mutton, and even earthworms, he would go out to the meadow or the forest to gather caterpillars. The meadow ones were considered especially tasty. They were juicier than the forest ones — probably because the sun warmed their soft little bodies better.
“He loved tossing several of them into his mouth at once, then waiting as they began crawling over his cheeks and tongue, tickling him with their tiny legs. That gave him particular pleasure. Only after that would he chew them thoroughly, and swallow the tart green slime, fragrant with meadow herbs.
“Very tasty.
“But this strange captive from the anthill had no legs, no eyes. What’s more, both of its ends looked exactly alike.
“The goblin pressed on it carefully with his finger. The smooth casing proved thin, but springy. Under the pressure it gave slightly, and he felt something liquid inside slowly shift from one end to the other.
“Then he picked up the second one. Drops of liquid were still trickling from it.
“Only now, looking more closely, did the goblin realize this wasn’t a caterpillar at all. What lay in his hand looked more like a small, elongated pouch.
“And what was inside it wasn’t blood at all. He guessed that ants kept their magic sap in such pouches, the same way goblins kept skauti in kegs. This, then, was what the boar had eaten. The goblin squeezed a few drops from the pouch onto his finger. He sniffed it and caught no scent at all. He very much wanted to try it, but fear held him back. Before his eyes still stood the pieces of the boar scattered across the meadow and the forest. He kept staring at the red liquid slowly spreading over his finger, unable to bring himself to make that last motion of his hand. Then he shook his head, as if trying to clear it completely, glanced around, closed his eyes, and licked his finger.
“Before he could even imagine what would happen to him now, a pleasant warmth spread through his stomach. It even seemed to him that something had begun stirring in there. The goblin grew frightened, thinking, for some reason, of caterpillars. He remembered with dread the previous summer, when he had swallowed several live caterpillars at once and had felt a stirring in his stomach for a long time after, afraid they were looking for a way out. But this time it was only his imagination. It was nothing but a pleasant warmth.
“Feeling his body growing warmer, the goblin jumped to his feet and began checking himself, to see whether he was swelling up like the boar. He had no wish to end his life so foolishly. Luckily, he wasn’t swelling. A little while later, the warmth faded too. On the outside he remained an ordinary goblin, but inside him a strength was already raging. He could feel it within himself. An incredible surge of strength that had reached every corner of his body.
“He wanted to test himself. What if this was only a dream, and he would wake up any moment now on his own sleeping mat? The goblin slapped himself on the cheek and looked around. His cheek stung, and nothing around him had changed.
“He ran to the forest, picked out a thick branch on a tree, and swung his sword. The branch flew off at once. He’d cut through it in a single stroke and felt no strain in his arm at all. Then he decided to try breaking it with his bare hands. That, too, came easily to him, as if he held nothing but a thin twig.
“The goblin couldn’t believe what was happening. Not knowing what else to do, he ran through the forest, hacking down branches as he went, as if they were blades of grass. He kept on this way until he grew afraid that so many felled branches might be noticed. And then the goblinum would start saying some very powerful beast had appeared in the forest. He had no wish to frighten his fellow goblins.
“Returning to the anthills, he felt no fatigue at all. Now the goblin had no doubt that these pouches were where the ants kept their strength. And he alone knew this secret.”
Azuel fell silent and looked at Mor. Mor sat motionless for a while, then finally turned. Their eyes met. Azuel was calm, as if he had just revealed nothing more than an old recipe for skauti, rather than the secret of Ant Power. Mor, though, was at a loss.
If Ant Power really exists, then why has Azuel kept silent his whole life, and only now decided to share the secret? And not even with the Warden, but with me — a simple young goblin who, until today, knew no secrets of any kind at all. Strange that in all these years no one else has learned about Ant Power. Then again, who needs these ants anyway? It would never occur to anyone that deep inside anthills, these tiny bugs are brewing a magic drink.
Wait. Azuel said this happened long ago. But he couldn’t have been alive then. Which means someone must have told him this secret too, at some point. Or maybe someone else knows about it as well? Mor thought.
Mor’s thoughts were a tangle. He had many questions.
“Listen, Azuel — you said all this happened before my grandmother’s parents were even born. But you weren’t alive then either. So how did you learn about it? Maybe someone was just having a laugh at your expense, telling you this wondrous story? Who was that young goblin in the field?” Mor peppered the old goblin with questions.
“No, dear Mor. No one laughed at me. That young goblin was me,” Azuel answered, as calm as ever.
Mor hadn’t expected an answer like that. After all, a hundred years had passed since then, maybe more. He knew goblins didn’t live that long. Mor was about to ask him about it, but Azuel, as though reading his thoughts, spoke first:
“I know what you’re thinking right now — that I couldn’t have lived so long, because it’s impossible. And you’re right. Ordinary goblins don’t live that long. And yet Ant Power truly is a wondrous thing. I haven’t told you everything about it yet. With your permission, I’ll continue, and then you’ll have no questions left.”
Mor nodded in agreement.
“Getting ready to go back to the field to finish my work, I glanced once more at the ravaged anthills. And beside the one the ants were busily rebuilding, I saw three whole pouches. I don’t know how they came to be there. The boar must have been clumsy enough to drop them from its mouth. And then, once it saw me, it had no more thought to spare for them. I picked them up. And I didn’t forget about the one lying in the other anthill, either. Now I had four pouches of Ant Power.
“I went to the field and did everything easily and quickly, without tiring at all. By the time I was heading back to the goblinum, I felt the strength leaving me. That was how I understood that a few drops gave strength for only a short while. But how could I find out how long the strength would last if I swallowed, say, a whole pouch? I was afraid to try it, though, remembering the boar’s fate.
“After that I began to wonder whether I should tell anyone about Ant Power. Perhaps I ought to reveal the secret to the Warden? He was the one in charge, and he would surely put it to good use for his goblinum, and maybe for the whole Bignose clan. I thought that with the help of Ant Power we would become the mightiest clan in the Goblin Forest. No one would dare oppose us, because no other clan could compete with us any longer.
“Or perhaps I no longer needed the Warden, or anyone else at all, because I myself could become the greatest goblin in the forest.
“But then I was horrified at my own thoughts. After all, I had tried only a few drops of Ant Power, and already I wanted to prove my superiority over others, instead of helping them. If such thoughts had come to me, then a thirst for greatness could strike other goblin minds too. And once it did, there would be no stopping them. Which meant Ant Power would become a source of evil rather than good. And I would be the one who had told of it.
“I wanted nothing of the kind. So I decided to keep it all a secret.
“So spring passed, and then summer. We brought in the fields. It was a very good potato harvest, and the Warden decided to trade the surplus for cabbage. Have you ever eaten cabbage? Very tasty food, I must tell you. Juicy, crunchy leaves, and it keeps a long time. Just like potatoes. Cabbage is grown by both goblin clans of the western forest.
“Well then, the Warden sent my father and me to them, to arrange the trade.
“The first day of the journey passed without incident. Toward evening, not far from the road, we spotted a clearing and decided to spend the night there. Nothing unexpected happened during the night either. I woke with the first rays of sun, because my stomach was growling and demanding food. My father was still asleep. I didn’t wake him, and decided to walk around the clearing myself, looking for caterpillars for breakfast. I loved them dearly in my youth.
“I hadn’t even taken three steps when a small gust of wind rose. And that was enough to bring down a tree. It was only afterward that I saw the tree was rotten through, which was why it had fallen from so light a breeze.
“And it fell on my father.
“He began to cry out, trying to scramble free of this sudden trap as fast as he could. But the tree had pinned him down hard. I ran to him and strained every muscle to lift it. It didn’t budge in the slightest.
“And my father’s cries grew louder still. That cursed, half-dead tree seemed intent on pressing him fully into the ground and leaving him there forever, as its prize. I was in despair. Right before my eyes, my poor father was suffering terrible pain, and there was nothing I could do to help him.
“In my helplessness I raised my eyes to the sky, hoping that perhaps our Supreme Rider was watching us at that very moment. That he would take pity on us and help. But there was no one in the morning sky.
“And then, for a moment, it was as if a bright spark flared up in my mind. I remembered that I had brought all of my Ant Power along with me. I hadn’t expected to need it on the road. I simply hadn’t wanted to leave it at home. My father didn’t know my secret. But I wasn’t thinking about that now. All that mattered was saving my father.
“I took out the four pouches. I had no time to test my strength by swallowing them one at a time. So I threw all of them into my mouth at once. I quickly bit through each pouch, and feeling the Ant Power begin to flow out, swallowed it all.
“A moment later I felt that warmth inside me again. Only this time my body kept growing hotter and hotter, until it felt as if it were burning. It even seemed to me that it was swelling up. I understood I had little time left. So I threw myself at the tree, and now lifted it without much effort at all, and pulled my father free.
“Seeing that, he even stopped groaning from the pain.
“And I was already resigned, waiting for the boar’s fate to befall me. My body stayed very hot and turned slightly red, and inside my head it felt as though a hundred Iron-masters were ringing their hammers. But time went on, and nothing happened. I wasn’t swelling up, though I felt very unwell.
“Overjoyed that my life was going on, I rushed to help my father to his feet. He was covered in scratches and bruises, but he could move, and could still work his arms and legs.
“By now, though, my body interested him more than his own. He had never seen such strength before, and he began warily asking what had happened to me — whether I belonged to some dark power.
“I didn’t want to deceive him. So I had to tell him everything. My father, of course, couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But then he remembered an old legend he had heard from elderly goblins, who in turn had heard it in their own childhood from their elderly goblins.
“It told of wars with trolls, and of an incredible strength the goblins once had. And how, because of it, the goblins had very nearly destroyed themselves. So they had decided to forget it forever. And that had happened a thousand years before.
“My father had thought it was all just a made-up tale, the same as the story of the ants with their magic drink. But now he learned that such ants truly did live in the Goblin Forest, and that this, perhaps, was the very strength the old legend spoke of.
“He praised me for having told no one about Ant Power, and swore himself to silence as well. After all, if our ancestors had decided to consign it to oblivion, then that was surely how it had to be, and we had no right to go against it.
“My father kept his vow, and to the end of his life told no one what had happened that day in the forest clearing. I, too, decided not to reveal my secret.
“So the years dragged on. I began to notice that time was taking neither the keenness of my eyes, nor the strength of my arms, nor the firmness of my legs. Though with other goblins, it was not nearly so patient. At first I was glad of it. But before long, dread and despair settled into my heart instead of gladness.
“More and more often my eyes met with envious and contemptuous looks. Rumors began going around the goblinum that I had turned into a sorcerer, and had made myself immortal through sorcery. Some cursed me, saying I was stealing their youth to keep my own body young.
“By then I understood that this was the effect of Ant Power from all four pouches at once. At first it had nearly taken my life, and then it had given me so much life that I have lived more than a hundred years. I can’t even recall now exactly how many.
“But my long life never brought me happiness. Many goblins I had known for years turned away from me. After all, they, like everyone else, grew old, while I did not. It couldn’t go on that way, because sooner or later I would have felt the whole goblinum’s malice turned on me. So I decided to leave my home, hoping to return here again someday.
“So began my long journey through the Goblin Forest. I lived among different clans, moving from goblinum to goblinum, so that my slow aging wouldn’t be noticed in time. I spent my whole long life in such wanderings. And when I finally began to feel that it was, after all, drawing to its end, I decided to return to my own goblinum.
“As you can understand, I had no one left to fear, because by then there was no one left here who knew me, or even remembered that I had ever existed. So now I am at peace, and can finally enjoy life. After all, old goblins look the same everywhere, and no one knows just how old I am. So there you have my secret,” Azuel finished, and let out a sigh of relief, as though he had shed the whole weight of the years he had lived.
“After everything he had heard, Mor no longer felt any irritation toward Azuel. Now he felt sorry for the old goblin, whose life he did not envy in the least. But he had no idea how to respond to any of it.
“Now I understand why my grandmother called you an expert on the Goblin Forest,” Mor said, not quite sure whether he was speaking to himself or to Azuel.
“So I am. Though I’d rather not be. But things turned out otherwise. I happened to live in the goblinums of all four clans, which is how I came to know the Goblin Forest so well. I should tell you, most goblins are fairly kindhearted creatures. Wherever I went, the Warden gave me a place to live, and I could always count on a basket of food. As long as I had my strength, I worked alongside the others, of course. And no one ever once asked why a Bignose had come to another clan.
“My last refuge, before I came back home, was the goblinum of the Hermit clan. You probably know these goblins live at the eastern edge of the forest, far from the other clans. That’s how they came to be named that.
“Well, it seemed to me that they envied our clan. I often heard them complain that the Bignoses had gotten the good land in the middle of the forest, while they were stuck with poor land that gave bad harvests. And the winds there can get fierce, because on the eastern side there are no mountains to shelter the forest. There’s nothing there but stinking swamps. And the east wind often carries that swamp stench right into the goblinums,” Azuel said, brightening, eager to share what he knew.
Mor listened with interest. After all, he would likely never set foot in those lands himself. He already knew a few things about goblins and other forest dwellers from the Lore-master, of course, but not details like these.
Still, what interested Mor more just then was why Azuel had revealed the secret at all, if he had decided, following his father’s example, to keep silent. So he asked him this question.
The old goblin took a long while to answer, as though weighing how best to put it.
“Don’t go thinking that some cranky old man’s whim made me decide to pass my heavy burden on to you. You see, Mor, all these years nothing has stopped me from going back to the anthills and taking as much Ant Power as I wanted. But I never did. Because I always remembered that first desire that came over me after I licked my finger. I wanted to become great. I wanted to be above everyone else. But not through good deeds — through a strength that isn’t truly mine at all.
“A path to greatness paved with other people’s suffering is not my path. It’s a deception, one that would last only as long as the power itself lasted — a power I wasn’t born with, and so it doesn’t belong to me.
“But that’s just how I see it. What if someone else stumbled onto Ant Power the same way, and wanted to make full use of it? And not for good purposes at all. I haven’t heard of such a thing happening, not yet. But who knows what may come.
“That’s why I want someone to know Ant Power exists, so that in times of trouble, it might be used to stand against evil. And you are the goblin I see fit for that. Your grandmother told me a great deal about you, and I’ve watched you closely myself for a long time. You’re the sort with no temptation or evil in his heart, and so you won’t do wrong.”
Words like these left Mor a little at a loss. Only that morning he had been an ordinary young goblin who’d only just learned yesterday how to save potatoes from beetles, and now he was being called on to become the protector of practically every goblin there was.
It was pleasant, of course, that Azuel had chosen him to be let in on his secret. And what a secret it was. It meant Azuel truly thought him no fool, and certainly not one given to loose talk. And yet it was also a great responsibility — first and foremost, to himself.
Now I won’t even be able to work the field properly without keeping an eye on the anthills. What if someone comes over and starts poking around in them? Then I’ll have to chase them off. And that will look strange.
Though I’m probably exaggerating. As long as I can remember, no one has ever taken any interest in those anthills. No one’s ever gone near them. People don’t even talk about them. It’s as if they weren’t even there. So there’s nothing to worry about. Mor thought, and turned to Azuel:
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep the secret, just as you have. And I won’t let you down where Ant Power is concerned. If I ever do use it, it will only be to help, never to cause harm. And it’s unlikely anyone else will ever learn about Ant Power. No one has ever taken any interest in those anthills. With you, it was simply a matter of chance.”
Mor noticed that Azuel was now looking at him with a certain unease, though the conversation up to that point had remained calm.
“Is something troubling you?” he asked the old goblin.
“I’m afraid so. You know, over my long life I’ve learned a great many things. Among them, how to notice what others miss, and how to sense trouble coming. It wasn’t for no reason that I wanted to talk with you today, of all days. Yes, I’m old, but not so old that I’ll be dead tomorrow. I meant to reveal my secret to you later. But yesterday I heard something that troubled me.
“As I usually do, I took my basket that morning and went down to the cellars for food. There, I overheard our neighbors talking — they’d brought corn in to trade. They were telling the Warden that the evening before, while gathering the corn, they’d seen three goblins in the forest near the field. They weren’t Bignoses — most likely Hermits, since the cornfield lies to the east of the goblinum.
“One of the strangers stuck in their memory especially — short, and very thin, as if he’d been half-starved for a long time. Once the goblins realized they’d been spotted, they came out of the forest and said they were lost. They explained they were heading west, looking for the Road of the Four Clans.
“As the old tradition of hospitality demands, our neighbors offered to let them spend the night in their goblinum, and cross the bridge together with them come morning to find the right road. But the strangers refused. They only asked to be shown the direction, then mounted their riding rams and rode off quickly.”
Mor looked at the old goblin with mild surprise.
“Why would these goblins trouble you? The Hermits live far from the other clans. If they were headed far to the west, they could easily have gotten lost. Couldn’t they?”
“They could have been heading west, certainly. Though we don’t actually know where they were bound. But getting lost — that they could hardly have managed, if the three of them had so much as one eye between them. Every goblin in our forest knows the road running along the river from west to east. And you know it too.
“It passes not far from our own goblinum. It’s the fastest and most convenient route, and many goblinums lie along it. All four clans built it together — each one laid its own stretch, until the road joined into a single whole. That’s why it’s called the Road of the Four Clans.
“Anyone with nothing to hide would take that road, rather than pick their way through the forest. And I think I know where these goblins came from.
“The Hermit clan, like the other clans, is made up of four goblinums. Three of them lie on this side of the river, and one on the other — far off in the northeastern part of the forest. The Hermits themselves told me about it, back when I lived among them. Curiously, they call its goblins wild, because those goblins hardly ever leave their own backwater. The Hermits even joke that the wild goblins are closer to swamp trolls than to their own clan.
“So then, it seems quite likely that these three came from exactly there. Only the wild goblins could have come from that direction. After all, they could easily have crossed the river and come out onto the Road of the Four Clans long before ever reaching our lands. But for some reason, they didn’t.”
Now the three strangers had begun to seem suspicious to Mor as well. Strange, at the very least. Everyone truly did know the Road of the Four Clans. It connected the western and eastern forest. If you traveled south from the northern edges, sooner or later you’d come out at the river, with the road lying beyond it. But if you traveled from south to north, you’d meet the road first, and only then the river.
“Maybe they really did just get lost? And then, once someone pointed them the right way, they got on the road and went on about their business?” Mor made one last attempt to reassure Azuel — and, at the same time, himself.
But the old goblin shook his head.
“I’d like to believe that too. That’s why, once I heard all this, I took the basket home and went to the road myself to look for tracks. I know tracks well, and I notice them where others would see nothing at all.
“On the road I found the tracks of a fox, a boar, and other animals. But there were no tracks from three riding rams. And those are hard to miss, especially when several rams travel together, carrying riders.
“I went a fair way west and found nothing at all. So I turned back and went east instead. At first there were only scattered animal tracks, and then I saw what I was looking for. The tracks of three rams, crossing the road from north to south.
“So the wild goblins never meant to go west at all. They were headed here. But why? Why would anyone from so distant a goblinum sneak onto Bignose lands? Either to snoop out something, or to steal something. And I think what they mean to steal is Ant Power itself.”
Mor understood the old goblin could well be right. These goblins hadn’t turned up here for no reason. And then he very nearly jumped on his stone, because he suddenly remembered yesterday morning again — and that strange tree that had given him no peace the whole night before.
He told Azuel everything that had happened, in detail, hiding neither his uneasy feelings nor his suspicions, which by now were starting to seem less far-fetched. There were simply too many coincidences piling up. Still, he didn’t want to believe that what was happening was connected to Ant Power specifically. After all, no one besides Azuel was supposed to know about it at all.
“If they’re after Ant Power, how would they even know about it? Maybe they’re after something else entirely. Our harvest? Our sheep? Or were they sent to carry someone off?”
“That’s something we still have to find out,” Azuel answered. “But before anything else, I ask you to watch the anthills closely. The more I think about all this, the more I suspect the secret of Ant Power isn’t known to me alone. There may be something hidden around it that we haven’t even guessed at.”
Mor was ready to head straight for the fields, and take a look near the anthills while he was at it. But the conversation had drawn him in so completely that he hadn’t even noticed evening starting to fall.
As soon as it’s light, I’ll go there at once.
Having told Azuel this, Mor said his goodbyes and headed home.
The old goblin stayed sitting on his stone, watching the young goblin go, lost in thoughts of his own. He wanted to greet the coming night outdoors, alone with his thoughts. Before long, though, he felt a light chill, and a breeze drifting in from the east. Azuel looked that way and saw clouds flickering in the distance. Sky Light lit them from within for an instant, then they dissolved back into darkness.
The rain hadn’t reached the goblinum yet, but the wind was already carrying it closer. The old goblin rose, glanced eastward, and made his way inside without hurrying. Though he hadn’t eaten since morning, hunger didn’t trouble him at all. Nor did he feel like sleeping. So he simply lay down on his bed and sank into memories of his long life. Azuel was certain now that the more than a hundred years he had lived were worth today.
In the house across the way, the young goblin lay on his own bed too, trying to fall asleep. But there was almost no room left in his head for sleep — it was filled with thoughts of Azuel and Ant Power. Mor tossed from side to side, and it was only the rain, with its steady, muffled patter of a million drops, that quietly lulled him to sleep at last.