~

Chapter Thirty-nine

~

I had been truly enjoyin’ helpin’ Mul, Zia’s sister, with her high school thesis—wasn’t fond of her conclusions, but it was her thesis not mine, and they’d likely mature—when the growl of a snowmobile outside interrupted us.

Snowmobiles aren’t unusual on either side of the Lake once it starts snowin’, so I tried to focus on Mul’s note cards. She’d done a decent job categorizing’ ’em. Turnin’ ’em into a cogent outline was our present task.

A light knock on the door twenty feet away drew a growl out of my chest. Obi, Zia’s pa, strolled across the room and wrenched open the door. An orc bull stood on a higher bank of snow now, eyes about even with Obi’s waist.

Obi greeted him with, “Ya look cold.”

“Appreciate that, sir, but I’m bundled up well.” From the dinin’ room table I could barely make out his eyes among all the knittin’.

“Come in.”

“I’m just here to collect Master Kriz,” he said.

“I’m busy,” I shouted across the two rooms.

“Then, sir, if ya would, call yar cousin Ike. He has pressin’ business for ya.”

Mul said, “If ya have to go, I’m good. Ya’ve given me great ideas already. I appreciate the help.”

“Get a load of this snow, Eacy,” Obi called to his mate. “Drifts must be six feet deep. Better call Zia and tell her to stay at the inn tonight. No point fightin’ this.”

Well that changed thin’s. I was just passin’ time to meet Zia here, away from the craziness. I shouted at the orc to wait up. I think Obi was laughin’ and Eacy smirkin’ good.

“Found an excuse to get back, I see,” Obi said. He tried to arrange a scowl on his face, but he wasn’t makin’ it work.

I patted Mul’s hand and told her to call me anytime, and headed for the door. The orc worked his jaw, that I needed winter wear. Even for an ogre he claimed it was cold out. Yep. I experienced it on the hour hike over here. But I shook hands with Obi and Eacy and thanked ’em for the hospitality, and passed the orc on my way to his snowmobile. He raced to get to it before me, but I gave him a look.

“Not on yar life, are ya managin’ my weight behind ya in this new snow.”

He didn’t argue. Like an orc would ever be wise arguin’ with an ogre. I could stick him in my pocket. Not really, but it was an entertainin’ threat. I stepped up in front of him and started the machine. It had been a while, but figgered it would come back to me.

It was colder than snot gettin’ ’cross the Lake in just a shirt and vest, but thankfully the ninety-minute hike was a mere twenty-minute ride. But I worried my tusks might fall out as I shivered. Left the orc to stow the snowmobile, and trudged stiffly into the inn.

Nuel greeted me inside. I asked her when she got here. She smiled, I think. But I don’t figger that hen as far as I can throw her. She pushed me toward the grand fireplace, claimin’ I looked like an icicle. I felt a little like one. She threw a wool blanket and a quilt over my shoulders and was kneelin’ to wipe up my feet before I could stop her.

I know that couldn’t be a Northern custom. Do they even get snow in the lowlands? Maybe Ezra explained it to her? But why was she—showin’ me respect?

“Ya call Ike?” Nuel asked.

Maybe she said somethin’, but Zia was standin’ there now with a steamin’ mug as big as the orc that came to fetch me.

“Ya look adorable with a red nose,” she said. “Mul called me. Said she loves ya. We’re not gonna have to fight over ya, are we? Wanted to know why ya speak Trollish, as though we don’t understand Standish.”

Maybe Nuel was goin’ bla bla bla, but my soul basked in the warmth of Zia’s smile. Oh, gag me. How could I have suddenly turned into a disgustin’ romantic.

Pretty sure the blood gushin’ to my face warmed my nose right up. Had this hen ruined me? Still could be a witch, puttin’ her majic on me.

She sat next to me and patted my knee. “It was nice of ya to visit my folks. I was angry at ya for doin’ it at first, but already over it. I got the feelin’ they like ya. Ya gonna go meet Ike’s troll on the South Plain?”

I think she changed topics on me. “South Plain? Uh. Pretty sure I’m stayin’ in the Hamlet the rest of my life.”

Nuel’s jaw was movin’ up and down, maybe. But I asked Zia what she was talkin’ about. She suggested I call Ike. That was the last thin’ I wanted to do, pretty sure.

I asked her if her ma had called her, about the deep snow. She had. I told her that my housekeeper keeps clean sheets in my guest bedroom. Maybe by the color flashin’ on Zia’s face, and the surprise on Nuel’s which I couldn’t block out, my suggestion may have been a bit presumptuous. At least unexpected.

“I’d like that,” Zia said.

~

Nuel

~

I’m the one who wiped up the bull’s feet, but Zia was gettin’ all of his attention. Big surprise on me. I tried to get him to call Ike five times, but he never even looked my way. He was lost to me unless the troll hen disappeared for a minute. He did ask about my sling. I had been wearin’ it since I left the hospital, but oh, yeah. I hadn’t seen him since then. Well, I saw him here, but he didn’t see me.

I took the initiative and dialed Ike on my phone, told him to shout loud, and maybe his cousin would hear him, and held the phone near Kriz’ head. Kriz still ignored the buzzin’ comin’ from my phone for an embarrassin’ amount of time.

“What?” he finally hissed toward my phone.

He took it in his hand and held it to his jaw. And listened. I heard an occasional word, but Ike spoke kind of soft for a change. Ike doesn’t really do soft.

The one-way conversation continued. Though Kriz didn’t interrupt, he looked none too happy. Finally he called Ike an idjit. Then a fool. I appreciated those moments.

“Piez is an idjit too,” he said. I didn’t know this Piez fellow, though Ike had mentioned him once.

Ike talked.

“No,” Kriz said.

Had I ever heard anyone ever tell Ike no? Maybe his ma?

“Who’re the parties ya’re talkin’ to?” Kriz asked.

Murmurin’ continued for a long time.

“Have someone send me their political profiles,” Kriz said.

More murmurin’.

“No. Won’t work.”

More murmurrin’.

“I don’t need Piez,” he groused. “Just an interpreter.”

That made me smile. As though the bull no longer speaks Standish.

“I’ll meet ’em at Jam’s hospital room, and I’ll be walkin’ out with him or they better be prepared to shoot me too.”

I was shocked he was thinkin’ about someone besides himself. I mentally smacked myself. That kind of thinkin’ was never gonna get me out of the doo with Darshee and Wizper.

“No,” he continued. “In the mornin’. I’m sleepin’ here tonight. Tell ’em to pick me up on the Lake shore at nine.”

I’m used to hearin’ Kriz makin’ technical decisions left and right at meetin’s, but had never heard him talk to Ike like that. I’m developin’ a whole new sense of appreciation for the littler bull.

He listened for about five more minutes. And Ike isn’t a bull of many words.

Then Kriz said, “Okay,” and handed me the phone back. “Ya just had to call him didn’t ya?” he said, eyes squintin’ good at me.

I gave him a smile and shrugged.

“I’m gonna make ya my secretary. Ya’re wastin’ yar talents in security.”

I cracked up laughin’, hopin’ he was jokin’. I’d hang myself before I’d work that closely with him. It had dawned on me recently that Kriz isn’t just a VP. I’d been told by someone, maybe Bliar, he didn’t even want any title but Ike forced it on him. Who knew the two bulls together had the tusks to build a company like OW that’s so ubiquitous. And I don’t think either of ’em are even forty yet. More reason to hate ’em both.

More reason to understand why Ike isn’t interested in gettin’ tied down. Way too busy. Way too many interests. Maybe I should get a cat. And a dog.