~

Chapter Six

~

All Ike could do was laugh, between the shorter moments solemnly acknowledgin’ the loss of life. Bliar had settled into a more somber mood. Nuel ripped my phone out of my hand, and she and Ike proceeded to have an even livelier private conversation, that I finally gave up on. Sounded like a circular firin’ squad. I searched out Ezra.

Found her in the kitchen, big surprise. The seventy-five-foot-long cavern echoed with soft conversation. With the season windin’ down, she only had one human female and a troll hen helpin’ her. I eyed the human woman to ensure she didn’t hold a cleaver in her hand. After all, we’d just mangled a gaggle of ’em. Call it appropriate paranoia.

Ezra grabbed me, raised me in the air, swung me in a circle three times, her petite tusk grittin’ me in the throat. Ogre hugs can be exhilarating, and painful. Her mouth rattled. She’s spent too much time around trolls—my prejudice. She introduced me to her buddies, Marge and Zia.

I was surprised to hear Marge was a long-term member of the kitchen crew—she didn’t take a knife to my throat, thankfully. Most human employees at the Lake are seasonal. Livin’ at the Lake is expensive. The dorm in back is comfortable, but not home. So they enjoy the short season and head North for the warmth about the time the Range snowed in.

The troll, Zia, hit me with a bashful smile. After battin’ inch-long gold-hued eyelashes, she extended her basket-sized hand to shake mine. Actually said she was pleased to meet me.

Ezra told her she didn’t know me yet.

For a troll hen, Zia was an attractive sort. Sparklin’ white tusks. Face without the typically droopin’ troll features, like a carved candle left too close to a heat source. Red and gold wove through her fairly short dreads, which meant she had just strolled into adulthood not long ago, with—uh, mature features.

“Let’s take a break,” Ezra announced to her friends.

Appeared Marge was already buildin’ a three-foot-long ogre-style platter. Ham, turkey, roast beef, a rack of lamb, about five varieties of cheese, a golden-brown two-foot-long loaf that smelled fresh out of the oven. That’s what I call a snack.

Ezra pushed me through the double doors leadin’ to the main dinin’ room which was oddly uncrowded for the Hamlet’s most popular inn. Ezra explained that when the marshals showed up, many of the human residents checked out in a rush. Very smart not to want to be caught in the middle of anythin’.

Five tables away, Nuel argued, no doubt with Ike still. Jam sat stoically across from her, sippin’ what I’m sure was a tall hot tea. Bliar studied a paperback he had snuggled in his crossed legs.

Forty feet away a human woman and an orc hen manned the front counter. Kept their eyes alert to the remainin’ diners who looked long finished with meals, enjoyin’ mugs of whatever—an even mix of orcs, goblins, humans, and ogres.

We filled mugs with steamin’ coffee from urns at the buffet and were spreadin’ into ogre-sized chairs when Marge and Zia joined us. For some reason my eyes wished to linger on the troll hen. She wore the long, patterned, pleated skirt preferred by ogres, not the soft, colorful pantaloons of trolls.

As she measured herself into a troll chair she brought over from near the buffet, she settled like an ogre, fastidiously arrangin’ her skirt around her. Bare feet of course. I almost choked, notin’ her toenails were painted in the human fashion. An attractive pale-blue. Fingernails long and curvy, sexy-feminine for a troll, without the human-ish paint.

I caught Cousin Ezra givin’ me the oddest near-stare, a smirk, head tilted, maybe in surprise. As my face heated, I debated what the fool hen was thinkin’. “What?” I hissed at her.

Zia ignored the tense, quiet moment Ezra and I were experiencin’ and suggested, “Ya ought to try the lamb. Ezra basted ’em for five hours yesterday.” She continued with an explanation of the herbs she used, the manner the carcasses roasted. As though anyone would care, or that I’d avoid eatin’ a good portion of everythin’ on the platter.

She blabbered like the typical troll, but I found I didn’t find it boorish. Blabbered, not rattled in the human way. Her words echoed softly, serenely.

My face still simmered since Ezra studied me. Don’t know where that came from. I used a ten-inch knife from the service to carve a good portion of lamb. Zia continued talkin’.

“Let me warn ya,” Ezra said, glancin’ from Marge to Zia. “Kriz isn’t big on conversation.”

I waited. How would she describe my—way?

“Never met a talkative ogre bull.” Zia barely interrupted her main flow of conversation.

I was gonna learn a lot about this hen without askin’ a single question. And that didn’t bother me in the slightest, oddly. Her family was one of the few troll Hamlet dwellers, though ’cross the Lake. Her clan mostly resided in the hollers farther south of the Lake, and in a scatter of gold and diamond mines sanctioned a few generations ago.

How could I have not met her before? My cabin is hardly a rock’s throw west of the famous inn. I know I’m not very sociable, but—

Maybe I should get out more.

We probably missed each other in school by a good decade and a half.

~

Nuel

~

“They’re not gonna come back with just a dozen marshals tomorrow,” I repeated for the thousandth time. It wasn’t creepin’ into Ike’s thick skull. And all Bliar would do is shrug.

“I think ya’re gonna be surprised what our council leader can accomplish with a few phone calls,” the ignert bull mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, the council employs the best legal sharks on the continent. Ya said that. But humans can be as unreasonable as ogres.”

Ike and Bliar both laughed. Numbskulls.

“Don’t forget why ya’re at Black Lake,” Ike said. “Ogre kind have a knack at industry. Trolls have attributes that can enrich the South in incalculable ways.”

Why I was here, he said. I had said no to this. But here I am. Jam clearly listened closely, even if he appeared disinterested, because his nod started at his chin and worked all the way through his waist.

“Is why the North touts such a rich economy. Our forefathers were shortsighted encouragin’ ’em to mix with humans. We should have known it wouldn’t end up well.”

Jam nodded again into his tea. Bliar grimaced.

“Does Ezra have a contact for ya?” Ike asked. “To get ya to the mines?”

Had to admit we’d been a little busy since we arrived. Killin’ a few humans, havin’ to find clothes not covered in blood, cleanin’ up, givin’ a statement to the Hamlet constable—my body still vibrated. Couldn’t get over how my ogre self responded durin’ the—incident. Emotions millennia-old took over. Turned off my brain.

In school I learned about the social construct of fight or flight. Today, my guess is, ogres aren’t big on fleein’. Didn’t know our kind could be so—brutal. Efficient. The shock worn on the faces of the humans as they were wheeled into ambulances revisited. A shaft of cold wafted across my body, makin’ me shiver.

Ike was askin’ me if I was there. What did I miss?

“There’s minutia in life, and there are big deals,” Ike said. “I’m sorry a few ignert humans erred. But bringin’ thirty thousand trolls back into the fold is momentous. Get that through yar beautiful dreads.”

“Don’t go misogynist on me,” I growled. “Thirty thousand?”

“To start with. In five years we could have a few million giants thrivin’ in the Range and slopes.”

“Wait. Expansion has been halted for generations. Where’re ya—?”

Ike remained silent. Bliar answered for him. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the phone on speaker. There were folk within earshot. I hurried to turn down the volume.

“Don’t be naive. We didn’t want ’em humans takin’ over the place. That’s temporary until—”

Jam no longer acted disinterested. He leaned forward, an edge of shock, maybe hostility, edged his long face. None of us spoke for a full minute.

I hadn’t breathed. I sucked in some air. What was Ike admitting? This was—huge. My brain admitted to feelin’ woozy. Was I wobblin’ in my chair? I grabbed the edge of my seat to feel a sense of stability. A response to Bliar’s bombshell began to form in my fog.

“Ya sayin’, our forefathers were fodder for social engineerin’ meant to prove humans and giants wouldn’t work out together?”

Bliar said, “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Though it allowed ’em to reclaim some of their family property from before the wars.”

“It took a long time,” Ike’s voice buzzed over the phone, “after the terms of the Covenant expired, for orcs, goblins, and ogres to learn to get along again. And only in small numbers for a couple generations. Before, the Range had always been the realm of giants.”

“And little folk,” Bliar added.

And majical kind. Before they returned to the ethereal—claimed the believers.