The cart that Phoebe was directed to went scarily fast. They passed under a strange waterfall and careened through tunnels and over great chasms.
After they finally stopped, Phoebe scrambled out of the cart, trying not to shame herself by vomiting. She leaned against a wall, taking deep breaths.
The woman was irritated. And vocal about it. She also looked different. Her hair was straight and brown, and her eyes were two different colours. She'd lost all the cosmetics on her face. The words between the goblin they'd sent with them and the woman flew too fast for Phoebe to follow.
The goblin turned his back on the woman abruptly, stepping in front of large stone doors with strange symbols and interlocking gears. He pointed at Phoebe with a small smile, then beckoned. When she reached him, he grabbed her hand, shoving it onto a brass plate in the centre.
"We'll see now, won't we, girl. Best of luck." The goblin stepped back as Phoebe tried to remove her hand. She tugged in a panic, but it wouldn't move. She felt something bite into the space between her thumb and forefinger, and a trickle of blood ran down her palm.
The woman didn't move. Phoebe started murmuring low in her own language to keep herself calm. She whispered a charm against her blood being used against her. She murmured it again and again as the blood slowly trickled to her elbow. She still could not remove her hand, pull as she may.
Phoebe's eyes widened as she watched the blood reverse its flow back up to her hand and a loud thunk was heard somewhere. The noise boomed through the cavern, echoing several times. Then the screeching of metal like a hinge too long unoiled, and gears beginning to move.
The door released her hand, which was strangely unharmed and blood free. The goblin stepped forward again, shooting a glare at the woman to keep her back. His voice was so quiet, Phoebe strained to hear. "Gorlak will contact you, your grace." Louder, he followed it with, "Greetings, Miss Max. You may enter the vault."
"I'm going in with her."
"Only a Max can enter the vault."
"There are none of that family left!"
The goblin laughed, a mean sound. "The vault says otherwise."
"I'm going."
He shrugged dismissively, still chuckling. "You can try. The vault defends itself."
The goblin ran a finger along the seam of the door, and the vault opened a bare inch. For all the noise before, the swing was silent. He made a gesture at Phoebe, and she pulled the door further open. The room was rather large, but not massive. Shelves with chests lined the walls to either side. The back wall held one shelf with books. Two dining tables held small boxes and several greyish bolts of cloth. The floor was bare stone, with several rugs rolled up against the shelving. A couple wardrobes and other furniture pieces littered the back, along with frames draped in cloth. The whole place thrummed with magic. Phoebe could practically see it floating in the air.
A single small table was set aside, just inside the entrance. A small bowl with three envelopes sat on top. They held the names of her papa and mama, as well as her own. She stepped carefully into the vault. She made it only two steps when she was startled.
A loud zap was heard behind her, and the poor woman who was trying so hard to help was thrown back a few feet. Her hair was now standing erect, and she was muttering something under her breath as she painfully rose again to her feet. "Okay. Guess I'm not going in." The goblin had the grace not to laugh.
Phoebe lifted the envelope with her name, and felt something ephemeral break. The envelope seal popped open on its own, and she retrieved the letter inside. A quick scan of the words revealed only a single sentence. "If you are the only one to make it home, the wills are held by the Ministry."
Phoebe took nothing from the vault save the letter. The trip back to the main hall was as fraught as the trip down had been. There were several people wearing the same insignia as the woman demanding to see something, or someone. Words flew by too fast for Phoebe to catch as the woman caught up with the rest of the guards.
While the Aurors argued with each other and some of the goblins, Gorlak greeted her with a small dip of the head. Phoebe smiled at him in return. "Your father's wand will be removed to your personal vault, your grace, which was established before your birth. Your key will be delivered to you upon your next ritual." He watched closely to ensure she understood his words, then nodded. "You will be taken to the ministry. They will do whatever wizards do." He twitched his cuffs into place, waiting for something.
"I appreciate your pains and courtesy." She raised her sleeve slightly and crossed her arms across her chest in the way she had been taught, allowing the goblin a peak at a small portion of her filigree.
His eyes fixed on the hint of blue. "It is our duty, and incurs no charge."
She watched him a moment, and then tilted her head. "Be it customary to proffer a gratuity, Warlord?"
His eyes widened just slightly at the ritual opening, then he grimaced. "Our honour forbids."
Another voice cut across their conversation before she could give the prescribed response. Phoebe nearly growled at the rude interruption. The goblin's brow furrowed in annoyance, but he retreated slightly, sneering at everything but her. A tall man strode toward her. "Are you the child Phoebe Elizabeth Max?" Phoebe took an involuntary step back, flinching, and the man stopped in his tracks. He stared for a long moment at her face, appearing slightly uneasy, before his expression cleared. "Apologies, miss. Wren told me you were skittish. Said your English was spotty and archaic, as well. Can you understand me?"
Phoebe swallowed hard as a tendril of magic wrapped around them both at his apology, and decided to be pleasant. "In the main, sir. Pray tell, how shalt I assist ye?"
He slowed his speaking, and enunciated carefully. "I am Auror Proudfoot. Well, one of them. You'll come with me to the ministry. We need to handle some paperwork and see what happens from there. Now, will my escort be good enough, or do you need Wren?"
"Your word, good sir, that safe wilt I be?"
"Of course, little one. Why wouldn't you be?"
"Your oath, sir. With the wooden stick. Wand. My papa," she paused and took a breath. "He hath required I request this thing."
He looked startled, then concerned. He pulled out a stick very little like her father's and dropped to one knee. "Miss Max, I swear on my magic that no harm will come to you while you are in my care if I can prevent it."
"I accept your oath. In return, I wilt cleave to ye save in defence of mine own life. I lack the stick upon which to swear, but may Lady Magic strike if I be found false. Bethink ye mine oath sufficient for an accord?"
The man smiled, revealing even ivory teeth. "More than."
Phoebe turned back to Gorlak. She had very little. The clothes on her back, the key and the wand. And some simple jewelry. She'd worn it for the ritual at the shrine. Removing a single earring, she held it out formally cupped in both hands. "For your honour, a gift."
Gorlak's face remained unchanged, but his voice softened. The goblin made no move to take the small jewel. He reached out and closed her fingers slowly over the offering, the comforting echoes of a deep cavern in his touch. "It serves our honour that you keep it, child of Elphyne. Call if you have need." He said nothing more, turning and walking away.
Mr. Proudfoot stared in shock. "What was that?"
"I could not say, sir." Phoebe re-affixed her earring, her teeth worrying at her lip a moment.
"Please call me Auror Proudfoot, Proudfoot, or just plain Elliot. Sir makes me feel old." He held out his arm to her, and she placed her small hand on his wrist. "Hold tight, Miss Max, and we will be there shortly."