In the Company of Ogres (26 page)
Like the raven, Ned doubted he’d last more than a week. He’d gone longer without perishing, but since arriving at Copper Citadel, his luck had taken a turn for the worse. He took some small comfort in that, since commanding Ogre Company had a reputation as a dangerous job. Justifiably so. But that would have to change now, and he gathered up what little determination he had into one tight knot of resolution in his gut. It was unpleasant, but he felt certain. He had no doubt—not much, anyway—that he could do it.
A fat vulture landed on the windowsill with a screech. Its sudden appearance sent Ned recoiling in shock. The staff found its way between his legs and tripped him up. He fell backward, banging his shoulder against the sharp point of his desk. A few inches higher and to the left and the blow would’ve cracked open his skull. This was going better than expected since he didn’t die. Not much of an accomplishment for most people, but Ned grabbed all the little victories he could.
The black vulture squeezed its way through the window, hopped onto a chair, and stared down Ned with its merciless, ebony eyes. Its head bobbed sideways. It opened its hooked beak, rasping quietly. Black wings spread, casting a shadow of death over Ned.
Luckily for him, he didn’t believe in omens.
He rose, rubbing his sore shoulder, and used the staff to encourage the cruel bird back out the window. The vulture wasn’t so easily discouraged. It snapped at the staff’s tip. Ned gave up after a minute. He locked stares with the forbidding harbinger.
“Get lost.”
The bird ruffled its feathers and swayed side to side on the chair. It didn’t go anywhere. Nor did he expect it to. He shrugged, feeling a twinge in his shoulder.
“Fine. But if you’re looking for a meal, I’m not going to be it.”
The vulture shrieked once, then settled in as if perfectly willing to wait. Ned sat back at his desk, resolving this time not to move until absolutely necessary. Hard to get yourself killed just sitting around, he reasoned. He wasted a minute trying to stare down his unwanted guest, but abandoning that, he leaned back and closed his eye.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Frank stepped inside. He carried a canvas sack in one hand. The contents squirmed. “Ah, there you are, Ned.”
“Where else would I be?” asked Ned.
“Not you, sir. I was speaking to the vulture.”
“His name’s Ned?”
The vulture screeched, flapped its wings, nearly tipping over its chair.
“Nibbly Ned,” said Frank. “We usually just call him Nibbly to avoid confusion. Sort of the company mascot, sir. Ward’s been looking all over for him. Worried sick. Thought the poor little guy might’ve been killed in the confusion. He’ll be glad to know otherwise.”
“Grand bit of luck,” agreed Ned.
“You shouldn’t be in here, Nibbly. Go on. Get out, get out.”
The vulture flew back to the sill, cast one last hungry glance at Ned, and jumped out the window. Ned was simultaneously pleased and annoyed to see it go. Glad to be rid of it, but irritated that nothing in this citadel, not even the mascot, took him seriously enough to follow his orders.
“Something I can do for you, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I was wondering what you’d like me to do with the platypus.” Frank placed the squirming canvas sack on the desk.
“Get rid of it, I guess.”
“Is there a special way you’d care to have that done?” asked Frank somewhat vaguely.
“You can eat it for all I care.”
The platypus made a fearful noise and struggled all the more in the sack.
“Is that safe, sir?” asked Frank.
“I don’t know. I’ve never eaten a platypus.”
“Not that,” said Frank. “I mean, is it safe to eat a wizard? Even in platypus form?”
“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Ned. “I guess it’d be safer to destroy it.”
“Yes, sir. Shame. It’s been years since I’ve enjoyed a good roasted platypus.” He threw the sack over his shoulder and moved toward the door. He paused as he touched the handle. “And don’t worry, sir. Your secret is safe with me.”
Ned almost didn’t ask, but some small voice, some stifling masochism compelled him. “What secret?”
“You don’t have to pretend with me, sir. I already knew all about secret wizards. I just never thought I’d meet one. Well, actually I did think I’d meet one. I just assumed I’d never know.”
Ned considered correcting Frank but didn’t see any point in it.
“But you needn’t worry, sir,” added Frank.
“Glad to hear it.”
“And I’m sure the others won’t let anyone know either.”
That spurred Ned’s attention. “How many people know?”
“Oh, just myself, Regina, and Gabel. They didn’t believe me either when I first told them. But I knew all along. But mum is the word, sir. You can trust us. Rely on our confidence.”
Ned nodded. So his ranking officers thought him a wizard. He couldn’t see the harm. It might even get him some respect.
“Although I’m not too sure about Ace,” said Frank. “Hate to say it, since I like the little guy, but he might let it slip.”
“Ace knows?”
Frank held up his hands. “I didn’t tell him anything, sir. But it was kind of hard not to notice, what with your talking to birds and turning dragons into platypuses. Goblins are a chatty bunch, sir. I’d offer to squish him for you, but I don’t squish friends. Maybe you could have one of the other ogres do it.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, I see. Going to erase his memory, eh, sir?”
“First thing in the morning, Lieutenant.” Ned tapped the maroon staff twice on his desk.
Frank winked, and Ned winked back. Although with one eye, it was difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish his winks from his blinks. But Frank seemed to get it, and he left to dispose of the platypus.
Ned passed the next few minutes quietly not dying in his office, and was pleased with how well it was going. He’d stayed alive longer, but now that he was concentrating on it, it felt more like an accomplishment. Although he still couldn’t make a bit of sense of the Red Woman’s sacrifice, which seemed utterly pointless. Ned couldn’t die, but the universe could. So why bother to save him?
“Why?” he wondered aloud.
“Why not?” someone replied.
Ned jumped, toppling out of his chair and rolling onto the floor. The chair jostled a polearm leaning against the wall. The weapon swung down and buried itself just above his head. An inch to the right, and it would’ve split open his face. He wondered if his office was such a safe place after all. He viewed the world with a new eye now. Everything was sharp and pointy and eager to drive itself into his brain apparently. He considered cowering under his desk, but he wasn’t quite ready to throw away all his pride.
A quick glance confirmed that the office was empty. “Is someone here?”
“Someone, no,” said the new voice. “Something would be more technically accurate.”
“Where are you?”
“Here.”
Ned stood, bracing himself on the desk. “Where?”
“Here.”
“Where?” he asked.
“Why don’t you ask again? Because if you ask the same question three times, you’re sure to receive a more accurate answer.”
“Where?” asked Ned again.
“I was being sarcastic. Of course, if you’d like to ask me again, go right ahead. But as I can’t see nor can I feel, I can’t really help you out. Or instead of asking the same ridiculous question over and over again, you could try another.”
Ned, who’d grown tired of being mocked, sat back down. “Are you a ghost?”
The voice chuckled. “No. If I’m anything, I suppose I’m a memory.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know.” The voice sighed. “Must you insist on asking every question more than once? Do it again, and I won’t reply. In fact, I don’t think I’ll bother with any pointless questions from now on.”
“You won’t?” asked Ned.
No reply. The voice before had seemed to be right in his ears. He waved his hands around his head and felt nothing. Not a cold spot or invisible speaker or chatty horsefly.
“Are you still there?”
No reply.
“Hello? Still there?”
“Yes, I’m still here.” The voice sounded outright irritated now. “Where else would I be? I can’t move on my own now, can I?”
“You can’t?”
The voice grunted, but said nothing else.
“I must be going mad.” It seemed time for that. A trifle behind schedule. He considered searching his office but just didn’t care enough to chase phantom hecklers. He decided to ask one more question, and if that didn’t work, he’d give up.
“What are you?”
The voice exhaled with much relief. “Finally. Was that so hard? I’m the staff.”
“The staff?” asked Ned.
The speaker grumbled. “Yes, the staff. You’re really quite thick, aren’t you?”
Ned snatched up the staff. Now he needn’t worry. Now he could relax, let death take him. The well-being of the universe was somebody else’s problem.
He clutched the Red Woman’s staff close, clinging to it the way an amorous, drunken troll might cling to an amorous, drunken elf with a lazy eye and an open mind.
“How did you get in there?” he asked.
“I’m not in here,” replied the staff. “I am.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Everything must be thoroughly spelled out for you, mustn’t it? I take it back. You aren’t thick. You’re patently ample-skulled.”
“Huh?”
“Well put,” said the staff. “I am not what you think I am. Neither spirit nor preserved soul, I’m all that remains of my former owner. A memory imbued with a touch of magic. I possess no true life, merely the nuanced simulation of such. I can’t even speak unless spoken to, and only in reply to a question.”
“You can’t?” asked Ned.
The staff ignored him, and he silently agreed it should. He did have an annoying habit of asking questions over again.
“Why?” he posed.
The staff deemed this worth answering, but the irritation in its voice was obvious. “An echo can’t exist without a sound. Though the magic that created me allows me more creativity in my replies, an echo is still what I am.”
“Why are you here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she leave you on purpose?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she leave you to help me?”
“I don’t know.”
Ned frowned at the staff. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you know?” he asked.
“Someone or something must be aware to know, and I’m not aware. I only reply. If in my replies information can be found, that is not the same as possessing the information myself.”
“I don’t get it,” said Ned.
He waited. The staff didn’t respond. It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t asked it a question.
“Why don’t I get it?”
“Because you’re a dull-witted jackass. Even I can see that. And I’m not self-aware, nor can I see.”
Ned almost yelled back at the staff, but he refused to trade insults with an inanimate object. Especially since he seemed to be losing the battle. And he couldn’t come up with any new questions. Only new wording for old questions. He put the staff on the desk and turned to more productive tasks. If his office was going to be his haven, he needed to make it safer. His first act: removal of all the sharp things. Then he’d take care of the hard things. Eventually he’d get rid of everything in the room. Even the chair to play it safe. And he could sit on the floor for at least twelve hours a day. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best he had.
He’d gathered up the swords and axes littering the office, presumably left by former commanders, when someone knocked on his door. The next step in his haven would have to be the addition of a Do Not Disturb sign.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and in stepped Miriam and Regina. It took some time for the women to enter as they struggled to squeeze through the door frame simultaneously, each digging her elbows into the other’s ribs. Ned, his back turned, was hunched over a bundle of blades and didn’t notice.
“What is it now?” he asked.
“Just checking in, sir.” Regina saluted sharply.
Scowling at the Amazon, Miriam saluted just as sharply. “And making sure you’re feeling well, sir.”
“Obviously Ned can take care of himself,” said Regina.
“Expressing concern over the commander’s well-being doesn’t insinuate assumption of weakness,” replied Miriam. “Perhaps you’d understand that if you were more in touch with your feminine side.”
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