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Chapter Twenty-eight

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“Thought ya’d wanna know there was an assassination attempt on Ike.” I couldn’t meet her eyes, but I tried.

Her mouth dropped open. Didn’t say anythin’.

“He’s fine. The malcontent ogre they paid to do the deed wasn’t too smart,” I said. “Ponwr took the bull’s head off. A little like Jam—” Maybe I didn’t have to give quite so much detail. “I’m told.”

Her eyes turned a little redder than they had been. I’ve read somewhere that means somethin’. Why did her eyes seem unfocused? I looked over at my new troll friends hopin’ they could give me some direction.

They both flinched to find somethin’ interestin’ on the ceilin’. Jeez. In all truth, I didn’t want to be here. Wizper told me I had to come. I don’t understand hens at all.

Someone once told me I should get a dog. That havin’ one would help me learn to think about the needs of others. Either that or the dog would die, I guess.

What else was new, that the hen would want to hear? Oh yeah. “Found out what happened to Jam. They shot him up good. But trolls are hardy, ya know. He’s in a hospital up North. A lot of talk, what we’re gonna do about it.

“There are plenty of Northern folks riled up about steps the Northern coalition is takin’, leadin’ ’em to war.” She could probably hear that on the radio. So what’s somethin’ a hen might want to hear? Me figgerin’ that would be tougher than resolvin’ the Riemann Hypothesis.

“Uh. Ya’re lookin’ good. Glad ya survived all yar excitement.”

She cleared her throat. “Excitement?”

Oh. No surprise I said the wrong thin’. “I better go.” I twisted toward the door.

“Wait.” That sounded angry. Maybe.

It froze me in place. I waited. They wouldn’t have given her a gun for personal protection here in the hospital, would they? She’s got a troll standin’ outside her door. All the same, I waited for a boom. Been a lot of that lately.

“Thank ya,” she said.

Uh. What for? Did Wizper and Darshee send her flowers or somethin’ and sign my name? I noted there were several bouquets sittin’ here and there. Still no boom, so I turned back to look at her.

“That’s all I’m gonna say,” she said.

Uh. Okay.

I waited. I don’t know why, since she implied she was done. Still didn’t know what the thank ya was for. Maybe, tellin’ her about Ike. I gave her a nod and strode out the door. Thankfully, that didn’t take very long.

~

Nuel

~

The bull didn’t even have to say anythin’ to send my emotions through the ceilin’. Why did he come to the hospital at all? It wasn’t for the reason most people visit someone in the hospital. As though someone had told him he had to. Did they explain to him why? They should have. The idjit doesn’t have the sense to figger it out himself.

Why hadn’t Wizper called me, about Ike? They hadn’t been in all day.

That thought seemed to make the room’s wire-line phone ring. When would I get my phone back? I answered warily. Not havin’ a display informin’ who called is a little unnervin’. Definitely not used to that.

“Hey.” Wizper’s voice, thankfully. She asked me how I was doin’ and before I could say anythin’ she rattled on about how crazy it had been for her and Darshee. For the rest of the world. “Ya hear about Ike? Crazy huh. He’s asked Kriz to fly with Bliar to clear somethin’ up on the South Plain. Did Kriz get to stop by first?”

“Kriz? What’s Ike expect that idjit to accomplish?”

The phone remained silent.

“Ya there?” I asked.

The line stayed silent a ten-count more. “Ya tick me off so much I could twist ya into a stir stick.”

In the background I heard Darshee say, “I’m done with her.”

My eyes welled. What did I say? “What?” I got out.

“Let me tell ya somethin’, ya ingrate. Kriz is the only one who wanted to come get us away from those folks. He argued with Ike, argued with the troll gent on site. Argued about how to go about it. Wanted to walk in unarmed, by himself, which they wouldn’t let him do.

“The trolls bickered strategy for an hour. He’s the one who came up with the idea of the troll rumble. Who knows how long we would have been there otherwise, how many might have been hurt if he isn’t so astute. Imaginative. I ever hear ya call him an idjit again I will so—hurt you. No. I’m with Darshee. I’m done with ya too.”

A clack, then a raspin’ sound came over the phone. It took me a second to recognize it as a dial tone. Not like I could remember the last time I used a wire-line phone. Had I ever? Don’t think so.

Tears pooled, washed across my cheek and nose as I twisted to hang up the phone. Ouch. That hurt.

Not fair. So not fair. How was I supposed to know Kriz did that? I was keyed up. Lonely. Emotional. No one had visited. The pain killers probably affected my judgment too.

Oh, that’s so not true. I’m adjusted to thinkin’ of him as a fool, an idjit. It’s the personae I’ve created for him. Turned into a habit. My mind spun, analyzing—thin’s.

Back home, I almost exclusively dealt with humans, first at school, later on the job. I’d been warned so often since a youngling to remain calm around ’em, because they find us intimidatin’ to begin with. Humans at work are more likely to lie to my face than disagree with me, out of fear.

Southern ogres have no compunction against conflict. And maybe it was a relief, not dancin’ on egg shells any longer. I could shriek. Yell. Insult. And no one at OW would think twice about it. I—over indulged? Back home, I never, ever would have considered treatin’ anyone the way I do Kriz.

I either have a lot of apologizin’ to do, or packin’.

Would anyone give me a chance to apologize? If I were ’em, would I?

I started pullin’ wires off, disentanglin’ hoses. I had to get out of here. I had friends, who I wanted to keep as friends, fightin’ a war. I need to stand with ’em. A machine over my shoulder started whining, makin’ me jerk. So done with this place.