Goblin Hero Read Free Page B

break from nursery duty if I went with you and this green-skinned clod, so I’m going. Understand?”
    “What about the nursery?” Jig asked desperately. “Who’s going to take over?”
    “Riva’s still in there, but you’re right. Without help, they’ll probably overpower her pretty quickly.” Grell turned toward the kitchens. “Hey, Golaka. Send one of your drudges over to help watch the brats!” To Jig, she added, “That should work. They can always threaten to barbecue the older ones if they get out of line.”
    Golaka peered out of the doorway. Sweat made her round face shine. She waved her stirring spoon in the air, spraying droplets of gravy over the nearest goblins. “My helpers are all busy mashing worms for dinner.”
    “I only want one. And your worm pudding tastes like week-old vomit anyway,” Grell shouted back.
    Jig cringed. He could see other goblins creeping out of the way, as far from Golaka as they could get. On the bright side, maybe he wouldn’t have to take Grell along after all.
    Golaka shook her spoon at Grell. “Last one who complained about my cooking got his tongue ripped out. The taste didn’t bother him at all after that.”
    “Pah,” said Grell. “Just send over whatever idiot overspiced the snake meat the other night. One day dealing with teething goblin babies, and they’ll work twice as hard once they’re back safe in your kitchen.”
    Golaka’s spoon stopped in midshake. The rage on her face slowly melted away, and she began to chuckle. “I like that.” She spun and headed back to the kitchen. “Hey, Pallik. Stop licking the hammer and get over here. I’ve got a new job for you!”
    Jig turned to the ogre, who had watched the entire exchange with an increasingly skeptical expression.
    “Come on,” said Jig. Before anyone else volunteers to “help.”
     
    The laughter of the other goblins followed them out of the lair, stopping abruptly when the ogre spun around and snarled. The silence drew a faint smile from Jig. His goblin companions might be worse than useless, but he could get used to having an ogre along.
    Jig studied the two goblins. “What is that supposed to be?” he asked, staring at the object in Braf’s hand.
    “A weapon, I think,” said Braf. “I traded a hobgoblin for it a few days ago.”
    The so-called weapon was the length of Jig’s leg. A thick wooden shaft ended in a brass hook, wide enough to catch someone’s neck. The other end was barbed and pointed.
    “Do you know how to use it?” Jig asked.
    “I wanted to name it first. I was going to call it a hooker.”
    Jig cringed.
    “But that didn’t sound right,” Braf went on, rotating the weapon and testing the point on his other hand. “I thought about calling it a goblin-stick, because I’m a goblin. But I think I’m going to name it a hook-tooth, because it’s sharp like a tooth, only the other end is hooked, see?”
    Standing behind Jig, the ogre snickered. He could probably snap Braf’s hook-tooth with one hand.
    “I wish I could remember where I put my shield though,” Braf continued. “I had it at dinner last night because I used it as a plate, and I remember Mellok kept stealing my fried bat wings.”
    Grell’s wrinkled face tightened with disgust. Shifting her balance, she raised her cane and slammed it into Braf’s back, making a loud thunk .
    Braf hardly budged, but his face lit up. He craned his neck and patted the edge of the shield, still strapped to his back. “Thanks, Grell!”
    Jig turned to the ogre. “What’s your name?”
    “Walland Wallandson the Fourth.”
    “The fourth what?” asked Braf.
    “The fourth Walland Wallandson.”
    Braf stared. “Couldn’t the other ogres come up with enough names?” He seemed oblivious to the glare Grell shot him, so she slapped the back of his head.
    “It’s my father’s name,” said Walland. He flexed his fingers, and his knuckles popped with the sound of cracking bones. “He was Walland Wallandson the