Looking right at me, he howls in my face.
I shriek, sweeping the gremlin off my lap. Brugo cackles and bounds around the room, squealing.
“What’s wrong with it?” I demand, still trying to catch my breath.
“He’s a gremlin,” Ergmin answers, as if the problem were obvious.
Which, I suppose, it is.
“Kill it,” I say to Galinor.
Ergmin chuckles. “You can try.”
The prince is only too happy to comply. Galinor strikes at Brugo with his sword. The steel pauses only a hair away from the creature’s neck.
“Galinor?” I ask. “Why did you stop?”
Again, Galinor swings, and again the blade pauses before it touches the gremlin.
Galinor grits his teeth and retracts the sword. “He stops me.”
Brugo squeals and shrieks. He jumps on the table and then off again, sending Ergmin’s bowl crashing to the ground.
Ergmin shrugs. “You can’t kill him.”
I whip back to him. “I thought you said his magic was bound?”
“It’s still in him,” Ergmin answers. “And that magic won’t let you murder him.”
I groan. “Can’t you do anything?”
Ergmin raises his hand, and the gremlin freezes mid-bounce. “I can do that.”
A frozen gremlin is far better than a bounding one, but it still doesn’t help Father.
“If we can’t kill him, we can’t undo the curse on my Father,” I tell Ergmin, pleading with him to think of something.
Galinor sits. “Can the creature undo the curse?”
Ergmin studies us, his brows knitting. “Perhaps if he were unbound…”
I shake my head. Who knows what trouble the thing would cause if it were free again.
Ergmin thinks for a moment and then looks at the table. “I might be able to undo it.” He stoops to pick the broken pieces of earthen bowl off the floor.
“Really?” I almost don’t believe what he’s just said. “Will you?”
“I’ll need a few things. If you bring them to me, the curse will be lifted when you return.” He gives me a long look. His eyes are on me, but they seem far away. They come back to focus, and he nods. “Yes.”
“Thank you, Ergmin. Truly—thank you.”
“I’ll write a list.” He stands, chooses a quill and parchment, and then sits back at the table and begins scribbling.
I read it once he hands it to me. “Five kember carrots, one loin of iktar beast, two field potatoes, one bunch of fresh pansley—finely minced, and three stalks of water root. Add salt to taste.” I hold the list out. “This looks like a soup recipe.”
Ergmin smiles. “Actually, it’s a stew.”
I frown and look at the list again. “You want us to collect the ingredients for your stew, and then you’ll undo my father’s curse?”
