Chapter 9 The Joy Clause
The Joy Clause
Brok
“This is a terrible idea, Brok. Rabbits are surface creatures! Surface! We do not go into mines!”
In the dim light of the kobold mine, Barnaby’s fluffy form looked almost indistinct, like something out of a particularly creative nightmare. Not for the first time, I wondered what in the name of all the gods had gotten me into this situation.
Ignoring his whining, I descended another rung. The metal ladder creaked in protest but held. “Your human alias is literally ‘Warren’. I’m pretty sure you have one.”
“My warren is a villa in Sicily! With sunshine! And windows! And absolutely no darkness that goes down forever!”
“And I’m sure Reynard will be happy to take that from you too, if we don’t find a solution to your problem.”
Instantly, Barnaby shut up. I almost regretted my snappishness. But I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to be here either. I wanted to be in a warm kitchen, with a beautiful woman smiling at me, offering me chocolate.
Instead, I was descending into a kobold’s mine because Grix had been dodging my calls for a week. One week since Isengrim had served that Challenge, and my agent—the one who was supposed to help me navigate supernatural politics—had gone completely radio silent.
The ladder ended abruptly at a stone platform. I stepped off, my boots splashing in a shallow puddle that smelled like old pennies. Dim crystals embedded in the walls pulsed with faint greenish light, barely enough to see by. It was probably intentional. Grix liked making things difficult.
Barnaby practically fell off the last rung, landing in a graceless heap beside me. The impact sent water droplets scattering across the stone, and he scrambled to his feet with an indignant huff.
We stood at the entrance to a passage that sloped deeper into the earth. The walls bore the distinctive straight cuts of kobold excavation, precise and methodical. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic sound grating on my already frayed nerves.
“Do you really think he’ll help us?” Barnaby’s whisper barely carried over the sound of dripping water. “He hasn’t answered your calls. That seems like a pretty clear message.”
“He’ll help.” The passage forced me to duck, my shoulders brushing both walls. “Kobolds are petty. He’s just punishing me for turning down that other client. Besides, we have a secret weapon.”
I paused and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. “You do still have it, don’t you?” I wouldn’t put it past Barnaby to sabotage our plan by eating the most important part of it.
Fortunately, Barnaby still had some self-preservation left. He patted the leather pouch hanging from his belt. “One last protein bite. The final one from Hazel’s batch.” The pain in his voice was genuine. “Are you sure this will work?”
“Kobolds have a thing about tributes. Especially food offerings. It’s considered deeply disrespectful to refuse one.”
I’d learned that the hard way during my time as Grix’s client. Hopefully, that knowledge would come in handy today.
“So he has to help us?”
“He has to at least listen.” I hoped. If there was anything that would make Grix change his mind, it was probably Hazel’s cooking.
Barnaby opened his mouth, likely intending to express his doubts again. Before he could say anything else, three young kobolds emerged from a side passage and yelped. “Is that Barnaby? OMG!”
They all said the letters individually, as if they were participating in some kind of insane spelling contest. I already felt old.
Their scales gleamed in shades of light bronze and copper, so they couldn’t be more than twenty years old. Practically children by kobold standards. They were all armed with glowing rectangular devices that looked like much fancier versions of smartphones.
The tallest of the kobolds rushed forward, nearly dropping his device in excitement. “This is amazing! Can we get a picture? My followers are going to lose their minds!”
Barnaby’s ears pricked up. “You… want a photo with me?”
“Are you kidding? You’re trending on CrystalGram right now!” A second, shorter kobold gestured enthusiastically. “The Challenge, the drama, Reynard coming back after all these years? This is the best content the supernatural community has had in decades!”
The third kobold, a female wearing bright crystal jewelry, was already positioning herself next to Barnaby. “Do you mind? Just one quick shot?”
Barnaby straightened his back. Suddenly, his earlier panic seemed to drain out of him. Even his fur shone a little more brightly. “Of course. I’m always happy to meet supporters.”
The young kobolds clustered around him, angling their devices for the best shot. The leader kept up a running commentary as he tapped and swiped his screen.
“Okay, everyone smile! This is going to get so many reactions. The Osterhase himself, right here in Grix’s mine!” A soft chime echoed from the device as the image was posted online. “Oh man, the comments are already rolling in. ‘Icon!’ ‘Legend!’ ‘Looking good, B!’”
“Can you do the ears thing?” the female asked, bouncing on her clawed feet. “You know, that cute twitch you did in the Spring Equinox special two years ago?”
Barnaby obliged. His ears did a synchronized flutter that made all three kobolds squeal with delight.
“Perfect! Oh, this is perfect!” The leader was typing furiously. “My engagement is going to be through the roof. I might finally hit ten thousand followers!”
“Of course!” the smaller kobold said. “A final shot of the Easter Bunny before his imminent failure. This is CrystalGram gold. The last hurrah of a legend, you know? Super tragic. Very aesthetic.”
The confidence drained from Barnaby’s posture like air from a punctured tire. His ears drooped. His shoulders hunched. The polished, professional version of the Easter Bunny vanished, replaced by the anxious rabbit I’d been training for weeks.
“I… yes. I suppose it would be.”
“Get out.”
Grix emerged from the main passage we’d been heading toward. The young kobolds took one look at him and yelped. The leader opened his mouth to protest, saw Grix’s expression, and wisely chose to flee instead. All three of them scattered, disappearing back into the side passage.
Grix turned his amber gaze on us. Today, his suit looked even more severe than what he favored during our meetings.
One would have thought that he’d be a little more casual at home, but apparently not.
“Brok. You have thirty seconds to explain why you’re trespassing in my mine before I have you removed. ”
“I need your help.”
“You had my help. You rejected it when you turned down the Asterion contract.” He glared at me, not bothering to hide his displeasure. “I don’t work for free, and I especially don’t work for clients who cost me money.”
I nudged Barnaby, who fumbled with his pouch and pulled out the protein bite. Grix went very still. His eyes fixed on the sweet with the intensity of a predator spotting prey. “One of your infamous cookies, Brok?”
“Not cookies. Tribute.”
Grix stared at the protein bite, then at Barnaby’s anxious face, then at me.
Then he reached out and took the sweet with surprising gentleness, turning it over in his clawed hands.
“The tribute is accepted.” The formality in his voice surprised me, particularly after how dismissive he’d first been of Hazel’s sweets.
But I’d been right. Grix could not say no.
Grix gestured toward the main passage. “Follow me. You want to know about the Challenge of Competency, I assume?”
“Everything you can tell us.”
“Then you’ll need to mine for it yourselves.” He started walking without checking if we followed. “The information you seek is rare. Buried deep. Finding it is part of the price.”
Buried? Of course it would be something ridiculous like that. Kobolds never did things easily or logically.
We descended deeper into the earth, following Grix through a maze of passages that all looked identical to me.
The air grew colder and drier. The crystal light became sparser, forcing us to walk closer together to stay in the dim pools of illumination.
Barnaby stayed close to my heels, his breathing quick and shallow.
The rabbit really wasn’t built for underground work.
Finally, we emerged into a massive chamber that took my breath away.
The ceiling stretched up into darkness, easily a hundred feet overhead.
The walls glittered with thousands of embedded crystals in every size and color—deep purple, brilliant blue, blood red, pale green.
They pulsed with soft light in irregular patterns.
“This is the source.” Pride colored Grix’s voice.
“Every piece of supernatural knowledge, every secret, every truth that’s ever been spoken or written eventually crystallizes somewhere in these walls.
The older the information, the deeper it’s buried.
” He gestured to a pile of tools near the chamber entrance—pickaxes, chisels, hammers.
“You’ll need to extract what you’re looking for. I’ll examine what you find.”
Barnaby stared at the glittering walls. “How are we supposed to find anything specific in all of this?”
“That’s your problem.” Grix settled himself on a flat boulder near the entrance, pulling a stack of papers from his suit jacket. “You have until I finish these reports. After that, I’m charging by the hour.”
I looked at the pickaxes, then at all the ore surrounding me. If Grix thought he could intimidate me like this, he had another thing coming.
“Don’t worry, Barnaby,” I told him. “We have this in the bag.”
He didn’t look very convinced, but I paid him no heed. After all, it was only mining. How hard could it be?
In hindsight, I should have known Grix had agreed to help us a little too quickly. Mining was a nightmare, the likes of which even my chieftain couldn’t have designed.