In the Company of Ogres (28 page)
“Very good, soldier.”
Ralph, Ward, and Nibbly walked away, leaving the sack with the trio. They studied it for some time.
“I’m not getting a roc out just for that,” said the third goblin, a fat little one.
The female nodded. “Agreed, but we have to do something with it.”
“We could always walk it to the river,” said the tall goblin.
This idea was quickly dismissed. The journey seemed even more arduous and unappealing than to the long-legged ogres.
Kevin shrieked. He clawed at the earth, raising a cloud of dust. The goblins exchanged sly grins, and the sack was tossed into Kevin’s pen. Instantly he gobbled it down. Then with a gruesome retch, he spun around and collapsed. His agape beak allowed a glimpse of the sack lodged in his throat. It wasn’t quite suffocating him, but it had cut off enough oxygen to reduce the great monster to a pitiful, wheezing heap.
“Oh, terrific,” moaned the fat goblin. “I’ve seen him devour four hogs in one swallow, but one sack kills him.”
“We should do something,” said the female.
Though not particularly dutiful, each had been working with rocs long enough to develop a certain affection for the beasts. And Kevin was the oldest roc and so possessed a great deal of sentimental value. He’d eaten so many goblins in his years that his normally golden red feathers had taken on the mottled green hue of their species. This inspired even more fondness since goblins were just happy for the existence of something that large and threatening that happened to share their coloring. Unofficially he was a goblin, if not by birth then by dietary concentration. The three agreed something must be done to preserve him.
The tall goblin entered the pen, and attempted to push the sack down Kevin’s throat with the blunted end of his long spear. It didn’t work. He laid down the spear and rolled up his sleeves. “Guess I’ll have to do it the hard way.”
“You’re not supposed to step into the maw,” observed the female, pointing to the sign.
“Do you have a better plan?” he asked.
The others shrugged.
The tall goblin entered Kevin’s jaws. He leaned his shoulders against the sack and found it slid in easily.
“This isn’t stuck,” he observed. “It’s not stuck at—”
Kevin slurped down the goblin and the sack with a satisfied squawk. He rose to his feet and paced hungrily in his cage.
“He was faking,” said the fat goblin.
“Imagine that,” said the female.
Both smiled, feeling some pride that Kevin was not only the world’s biggest goblin but very likely the cleverest as well.
The roc collapsed again, flapped his wings once, and wheezed.
“Nice try, Kevin,” said the fat goblin. They both returned to their posts, where they drifted off to sleep.
Ever ravenous, ever cranky, Kevin ambled around his cage as restlessly as ever. But there was something new in his pitiless eyes. As he absorbed the hue of his latest goblin snack, he absorbed something much more malign from the digested platypus: the beginnings of a gnawing hunger, fueled by hate and a last spark of dying magic. He turned his gaze on the citadel, past the leaning tower and toward the office where Never Dead Ned hid away.
Twenty-two
WHEN REGINA REPORTED the failure of makeup and perfume to attract Ned’s affections, Ulga wasn’t discouraged. She had Regina, Sally, and Seamus gather together in one of Copper Citadel’s small kitchens. Since Ned wasn’t attracted to glamour, Ulga’s next plan was to try the domestic type.
“I can’t cook,” said Regina.
“You don’t have to,” explained Ulga. “You just have to fill his belly with some good food, properly presented, and he’ll be yours.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” replied Ulga as she chopped potatoes, steak, and bell peppers and skewered them on rapiers. “There’s no guarantee on precisely what it’ll take.”
Regina wondered about Ulga’s expertise. She didn’t seem to know how to get a man’s attention at all.
“There’s a lot of guesswork,” admitted Ulga. “But it’s the only way.”
“Not the only way,” said Seamus.
“I suppose you have a better suggestion.” Ulga handed the shish kebab to Sally, who roasted it slowly in a steady flame blown from her left nostril.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” said Seamus. “You could just tell him you like him, rip off your clothes, and have sex with him.”
Ulga frowned. “That’s not how it’s done.”
Seamus shrugged. “Maybe that’s how it should be done.”
“I agree,” said Sally. “All this maneuvering and strategizing seem ridiculously ineffective.”
“Don’t listen to them, ma’am,” said Ulga. “They don’t know how this works.”
“It doesn’t seem to be working at all,” observed Sally as she roasted the second kebab.
“It’s working fine.” Ulga slapped Regina’s shoulder. “Everything we learn that doesn’t work is one step closer to finding what will.”
Seamus flattened her ears. “Or you could just skip all the hard work and go with a plan that’s guaranteed. As a mostly male, I’ll tell you right now that nothing gets a man’s attention like a naked woman rubbing against him.”
“Not every species approaches mating like your unsophisticated race,” said Ulga with obvious disgust.
“And not every species makes sex into such a production as yours,” said Seamus.
Regina agreed with the goblin. This was a great deal of work for something she wasn’t sure she wanted. No wonder Amazons had abandoned sex so long ago.
“You can keep arguing,” said Ulga to Seamus, “or you can make yourself useful and cut those radishes into flowers.”
“Can we at least keep the rubbing strategy as an option?” asked Seamus.
“Fine. We’ll call that Plan Z.”
Seamus grabbed a radish. “You want roses or tulips? I can do both.”
Ulga had Regina wash away all her makeup and put on something a little more comfortable. Ulga failed to convince Regina to abandon her armor and wear something considered more feminine. The Amazon would hear nothing of that, but she did finally change into some hardened leather breeches and a shirt made of very light mail. She absolutely refused to abandon her sword, and instead added a sash of throwing daggers and a hatchet on her hip to counter her sense of vulnerability.
“Not very domestic,” said Sally.
“It’ll have to do,” said Ulga.
“It’s a start,” said Seamus. “You can almost see her nipples through the vest.”
Regina scowled. “I’m changing back.”
“Do you want this to work or not?” asked Ulga as she added the finishing touches to the kebabs.
Regina sniffed the offering. It smelled delicious. Except for the thick, greenish fluid congealing on the mashed potatoes. It stank of old linen and stale garlic.
“Had to conjure the gravy,” explained Ulga.
Regina stuck her fingertip in the sludge, which burned to the touch like the acidic vomit of a spiked bogspitter. “Is it safe?”
“Sure. Might give you gas though. Or explosive diarrhea. Probably better not to eat it if you want to keep a romantic atmosphere.” Ulga put the lid on the platter and handed it to Regina.
The Amazon didn’t know why she was bothering with any of this. The more she thought about Ned, the less sure she was she cared for him at all. He seemed a good enough man but hardly worth casting aside her ethics. Ethics that had served her well, kept her life simple.
“You’d better hurry,” said Sally. “You can bet Miriam isn’t just sitting around.”
Regina tensed. She’d worry if Ned was worth having after she’d gotten him. But Amazons never walked away from a fight, and she wouldn’t lose this one. Especially not to a singing fish.
“Good luck, ma’am,” said Ulga.
“And remember,” called Seamus, “if all else fails, it never hurts to rub against him until he gets the message.”
Regina stalked from the kitchen and across the compound. She turned a corner and nearly collided with Miriam. The siren wore a goldenrod sundress, and she carried a covered dish. The women attempted to stare each other down, but neither gave in.
“What have you got there?” asked Regina.
“Smoked salmon,” replied Miriam.
Regina grimaced. “Smells like it has gone bad.”
“It’s fresh.” Miriam turned up her nose. “What have you got there?”
“Shish kebab with mashed potatoes and gravy. Garnished with radish flowers.”
“Roses or tulips?”
Regina smirked. “Both.”
Miriam held up a bottle. “I’ve got wine.”
They stood there for a second, saying nothing.
“I guess we’ll let Ned decide which he likes better,” said Regina.
“I guess so,” agreed Miriam.
They offered up gracious smiles and continued the rest of the journey side by side in deathly silence.
At their destination they ran into an unexpected obstacle. A lean ogre and a thick orc stood guard at the door.
“Step aside,” said Regina. “We’ve brought the commander’s dinner. And some spoiled fish.”
“No one enters,” said the orc.
“Commander’s personal orders,” added the ogre.
“He’s got to eat,” said Miriam.
“He was very specific,” said the orc. “He said no visitors unless he asks for them.”
“No visitors for no reason,” said the ogre.
The women shared annoyed glances.
“Why don’t we just ask him if he’d like some fresh fish?” said Miriam. “Or some overdone kebabs?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” said the ogre. “But we knocked once earlier when the first officer tried to drop by for a visit, and the commander yelled at us.”
“He yelled at you?” Regina was surprised. Ned didn’t seem the type to shout. Not that he was calm or rational. More quiet and lethargic.
“Not exactly, ma’am,” answered the orc, “although he did raise his voice.”
“And he threatened to transform us into newts if it happened again,” said the ogre.
“He did?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the orc.
The ogre cleared his throat. “Not exactly, ma’am. But he did imply he might.”
“How so?” asked Miriam.
The guards searched their memories but fell short of an exact recollection of his words.
“He might not have said it,” said the orc, “but you can be sure he thought it.”
“You know how wizards are, ma’am,” said the ogre. “And since we’d prefer not having a tail, I’m afraid you’ll have to take your overdone kebabs and spoiled fish elsewhere.”
“This is ridiculous.” Regina reached toward the door.
The ogre latched onto her wrist, and the orc drew his sword halfway from its scabbard. Regina would’ve drawn her own except her other hand was occupied balancing her platter against her hip.
Regina stepped away from the door. The ogre released her, and the guards unsheathed their weapons. She was in poor temper, and she didn’t like being ordered around by a couple of grunts. Miriam hummed to herself, warming up her enchanted voice. But Regina would be damned if she let the siren solve this problem. Before blade or song could be unleashed, the door opened, and Ned stuck his head into the hall.
“Is there a problem here?”
“No, sir,” said the orc. “We were just getting rid of them.”
Ned glanced at the women, both of whom smiled and held up their meals.
“We brought your dinner, sir. Fresh smoked fish.” Miriam lifted the cover.
“And steak kebabs,” said Regina, “with potatoes and gravy.”
“We told them you weren’t hungry, sir,” said the orc.
“Please don’t turn us into newts,” said the ogre.
Ned’s glance passed over the offering and across the women’s eager smiles. He made a peculiar popping sound with his mouth.
“Thanks. Not hungry.”
He withdrew into his office and shut the door.
“You heard the man,” said the orc. “Now are you leaving, or do we have to get rough?”
Regina didn’t respond well to threats. Her face went red. She ground her teeth. She was three seconds from disemboweling the guards when Miriam put a hand on her shoulder.
“Come on, Archmajor. Let’s go.”
Regina grappled with her temper, but in the end she chalked the experience up to another one of those failures Ulga had prepared her for. There was no point in killing these guards; they were just doing their jobs. And if Miriam was walking away too, Regina could live with a draw this round.
The Amazon and the siren retreated in defeat.
“Your kebabs smell delicious,” said Miriam.
Other books
Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma by Beverley Oakley
Fallout (Lois Lane) by Gwenda Bond
The Sleepwalkers by Christopher Clark
Interface by Neal Stephenson, J. Frederick George
Orient by Christopher Bollen
Beyond Ordinary: When a Good Marriage Just Isn't Good Enough by Davis, Justin, Davis, Trisha
Marked in Mexico by Kim McMahill
Under and Alone by William Queen
How to Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi