Chapter Fourteen
Goblin tailors, eh? Odd lot, them. Last I heard they was workin’ fer Grunewald, the Goblin King — or he was sponsorin’ the rabble. Somethin’ along them lines. There’s nothin’ they love better’n to sew, an’ they’ll do it all day an’ night. Perfect fer the likes o’ Wodebean, no? How they came t’ pass into his employ is somethin’ I will ask His Majesty, next time I get the chance.
Meantime, clever of My Lady Silver t’ find his elusive self! I don’t mind admittin’, though — I weren’t any nearer t’understandin’ his conduct than Her Ladyship. I had been gettin’ an inklin’ meself that sommat were not makin’ sense wi’ him. Consider them passwords. Mirramay? The royal city. Anthelaena? Her Majesty’s name, afore she were gone. Lookin’ remarkably like a loyal supporter o’ the Crown
