Pran looked to Doc in desperation, and found that the aged Healer was watching him, his gaze at once clear and lucid. ‘Please . . . I must know! Is she-?’
Doc glanced at Theuli’s peaceful, sleeping form, cradled tenderly and fearfully in her husband’s arms. ‘Oh, I think she’s in good hands,’ Doc told him, his characteristic disarming smile returning. ‘And since you obviously won’t be satisfied with anything less than clear, unambiguous language, yes, your lovely wife will be fine.’
Ralph had returned to the Goblin leader, whom he prodded into consciousness with the point of his sword.
‘Can anyone tell me what he’s saying?’
‘It is a corruption of an old Elvish tongue,’ said Loriman. ‘Why do you let it live?’
‘Ask it about Prince Cir,’ said Ralph, who had been thinking about Doc’s words, earlier. ‘About what he is.’
At the mention of the Prince’s name, the Goblin stared. Seeing this, Loriman spoke to the Goblin in its own brackish tongue. Despite its broken wrist, the Goblin began struggling wildly to escape, but Ralph pinned it down with his foot.
Several of the soldiers had come now to watch with growing curiosity. Loriman spoke to the Goblin again, this time with more threat in his voice. The Goblin said something that was obviously an obscenity. Dornal joined them, having overheard Ralph’s words.