Chapter Eight

Webfarmer looked out across the meeting cavern as the last of the goblins shuffled in and found places to sit. Getting everyone together without causing alarm had been a challenge, but somehow the improbable duo of Tunnelfinder and the Cave Spider had done what no amount of message passing and explanation could manage; Goblins of all ages, nearly a hundred of them, all calmly gathered in one place.
Waiting.
Staring at her.
“Whenever you’re ready.” The Elder patted Webfarmer on the knee. “I think this is almost everyone.”
“I thought you’d take charge; You’re an Elder, so it’s your job, surely?” Webfarmer replied, looking around to try to find an escape route. “I’m just a farmer.”
“And I’m just an old brewer.” Came the blunt response. “Nice try, but you’re not getting out of this that easily; You’re in this thing up to your tail, no getting out of it now.”
Webfarmer leaned down and muttered to Tunnelfinder.
“What did you tell them?”
“New people, not invading or attacking, the cave is helping them, and you’re going to tell us what to do.” The child replied, beaming with pride. “They all wanted to come & hear after that.”
Webfarmer rolled her eyes and looked up, spotting the Cave Spider clinging to the roof. It gestured at Tunnelfinder, nodded, then gave one of its odd shrugs while holding a leg in front of its mouth.
“Is that spider trying to hide a smile?” Asked the Elder.

“The Moss, at least, is helping them.” Declared the moss-gatherer over a hubbub of disbelieving voices. “The new people are sleeping, it could easily have engulfed them or the Toadstools could have poisoned them, but it didn’t. It grew bed-moss instead.”
“Maybe that was already ..” Came an objection, cut off as the moss-gatherer spun to stare.
“Do a lot of travel through the big cave on your hunting trips, do you?” He demanded. “Or do you use the river path like everyone else? Like we all do?”
After a pause, the hunter looked away.
“I’m just saying …”
Webfarmer cleared her throat.
“Tunnelfinder?” She asked. “When you first saw the new people, did you notice the moss?”
Tunnelfinder, who had moved to sit on the elder’s knee, shook his head.
“Normal moss. They didn’t look comfortable; Not like they were later.”
“But Why!?” Came a shout from the crowd. “Why are they here? Why is the moss helping them?”
“I think they might be lost.” Webfarmer replied, trying to be heard over the hubbub of voices. “The one at the cave mouth seemed like he was trying to tell me something about the forest, but I didn’t understand; I just told him to get in out of the rain.”
A goblin a few rows back gave Webfarmer a sudden hard look, then shuffled slowly forward in an apologetic crouch until she reached Tunnelfinder. Leaning in, she muttered into the child’s ear and listened intently to his response.
“I think,” She said, grimacing. “That I know why the Cave is helping them; Tunnelfinder saw it earlier, but I only realised it now.”
The goblin looked around awkwardly as the cavern fell silent, all eyes on her.
“You said … You said you told one of them to come in out of the rain?”
Webfarmer nodded.
“Well …” The goblin paused, hesitated, then continued at an encouraging nod from the Elder. “That means they were invited in by a dweller.”
“But they were already inside!” Came an objection from the crowd. “What difference does a bit of hospitality make?”
The goblin spun and pointed at the speaker.
“That’s exactly it! Hospitality! We invited them in, so they’re not an invader or a gatherer, they’re a guest.”
Tunnelfinder, who had been sitting with a screwed-up look of concentration, suddenly shot up a hand, waving for attention.
“Not just a guest!” He shouted out. “A helper!”
“That’s right, Tunnelfinder. Tell them what you saw again?”
“New people and bees and spiders fought the hornets together. Destroyed the nest together!” The child paused. “Are they friends now?”
The Elder made a thoughtful noise.
“When we kill hornets, or any kind of invader, it helps the Sleeping One?” The Elder asked. “But when a gatherer does it … Nothing happens, surely?”
“But, what if that gatherer was then invited into the cave as a guest?”
After a long pause where everyone waited for someone else to answer, the suddenly exasperated goblin spoke again.
“This is why more of you should visit the deep caves! Our ancestors wrote on those walls for a reason.”
“Are you taking about the cold cellar?” The Elder asked, leaning forward. “Where the spawner was?”
“Preserver, yes?” Webfarmer snapped her fingers and pointed. “From the deepest caverns? Wow; Tunnelfinder really did get everyone.”
“That’s me.” Preserver nodded. “I don’t come up this far often; Don’t like being this close to the Sun.”
Tunnelfinder opened his mouth to ask a question, and found it blocked by the lightning fast hand of the Elder. Both Webfarmer and Preserver nodded their thanks.
“Bees and Spiders killed the hornets, and the … Energy? Life? It’s not clear in the carving … Goes through them to the One Who Sleeps. But the new people also killed the hornets, and their energy stayed with them because they’re not quite part of the Cave, even though they helped, but it didn’t just drift away either, because they helped.”
The Cave Spider made a distinct “That’s what I was trying to tell you!” gesture that nobody else saw, then dropped into a crouching sulk until a faint grinding chittering buzzing noise, far too quiet for a goblin to hear, caught its attention.
“So, the new people killed hornets in defence of the Cave, the energy couldn’t go anywhere, and I invited them in?” Webfarmer said, slowly. “They’re close enough to being part of the cave that they collected it, but not close enough to pass it on?”
“Until you invited them in and they became guests, which must have made them part of the cave.” Preserver finished the thought. “And the … Whatever it is … from the Hornets got into the Moss, and the Moss apparently decided to help them.”
The hubbub of conversation rose, then fell as a slow scraping noise rose in volume. A convoy of clay pots, dragged by spiders, entered the cavern, moving across the floor and heading for the big tunnel back to the main cave.
The Cave Spider lowered itself to beside the trail and chittered, then looked up as a series of swarms of bees flew out of one of the many smaller holes in the cavern wall, each group carrying … Something dripping? … That they deposited on a table.
The closest goblin glanced into a pot.
“Fire-Moss.” It announced. “Dormant, but still alive. From the hunters supply maybe? That’s near here.”
Another dipped a finger in a drip from the objects on the table, peered at it, and hesitantly tasted it.
“Honey. But it tastes better than usual; Sort of … Stronger?” They announced. “And it’s got purple sparkles in it.”
“Catch Every Drop!” Came a shout from one of the Healers. “Don’t waste anything!”
Webfarmer glared at the Cave Spider, who looked up and shrugged, then started drawing little shapes in the dust between them. A little cluster of six sided shapes, then something that looked like a pot, all inside a circle.
“These look like the carvings.” Preserver said as she leaned in for a closer look.
“Do … Do you want to trade honey for pots of fire-moss?” She asked, then looked over her shoulder. “Is that a good deal?”
“YES!” Came a shout from a cluster of healers around the small pile of honeycomb.
Both Webfarmer and the Cave Spider hid grins. The spider briefly sketched a second pot inside the circle, gave a pointed look at the cluster of healers, then erased it again.
“Pretty sure we just got a lesson in trade there.” Muttered the Elder. “Or on the importance of gagging the interested parties.”
“One Fire-Moss pot for one honeycomb is fine.” Preserver said quickly, getting in before the healers could get any more enthusiastic. “But what do you need them for; The cave already has fire-moss, doesn’t it?”
The Cave-Spider paused part way through an “Oh that’s obvious” gesture, looked around, and gave the sort of shrug that can only be done with eight shoulders.
“You didn’t ask, did you?” Webfarmer said, flatly.