~

Chapter Twenty-five

~

The smell of roasted crickets wasn’t so bad. Better than the Giant George burgers—patties formed from some kind of fungus—which they ordered as dessert to the beetles and miscellany of bugs crawlin’ in those little white boxes they ate from with pointy sticks.

“Sure ya don’t want some?” Toniz held his white box out to me.

I reminded him I’d just eaten. Ya’d have to have a mighty slow metabolism to get by on a handful of tiny creatures. I think he hid a smile behind his box. The bull loves to pull my chain. “Yall were all cops, up North?”

Four heads nodded. “Ya worried ’em humans might hold yar actions against yar families?”

“Was definitely a consideration,” Toniz said softly. “Why it took a couple of months for yar bull, Ike, to get us all lined up to come down.”

“Months?”

Uh. Click.

That would mean he never expected all the talkin’ and goodwill buildin’ since these troubles began was gonna work out.

“We got most everybody either on the plains, in the East, or playin’ tourist down in the South. A lot of folk just bundlin’ up in safe neighborhoods, bidin’ time. Handy that ’em humans preferred us livin’ behind walls here and there, like it was to protect ’em.”

Three heads nodded. A troll smirk is hard to get used to. It isn’t the tusks. Tusks I know. The long, drawn out faces exaggerate the expression twofold.

My cell rang. I ripped it out of my vest. “Hey.”

Ike rattled off a status of thin’s as though he read the news on the radio. He sounded more exhausted than he had earlier.

“Ya consider gettin’ some sleep?” I asked. Not to interrupt him. I guess the average ogre would be interested in what he said. Me, not so much. I was more concerned about him. Which is weird enough itself. Me worryin’ about someone besides me? Other folk don’t have the obstacles I do.

“Like I have time,” he said.

“Ya got someone there I can talk to?” I asked.

“Uh, why?”

“So I can ask ’em to club ya over the head so ya can get some sleep.”

Ike maybe chuckled. “Bein’ around trolls must be rubbin’ off on ya.”

Was that a reference to me stickin’ with Trollish? Or their brutal wit? “They are very entertaining,” I said. “But yar guys are waitin’ to free the hens, because—” Might as well get to the topic I’m interested in.

“They’re safe enough where they are. Keeps ’em out of the way and out of harm.”

I nodded. Not that I’m stupid to think he could sense it. “Nothin’ says safe like locked up by insane people with little to lose who don’t care a lick about yar kind. Hold nothin’ but resentment and fear of ya.”

He was silent a moment. Probably wonderin’ why I’m still speakin’ Trollish. “Ya have somethin’ on yar mind ya wanna say?”

“It’s not for me to second guess yar plannin’.” That sounded pretty politician-like, to me. Couldn’t irritate him too badly.

His growl made it through the connection.

“But since ya know where they are—” I mumbled.

“Attemptin’ to retrieve ’em creates its own danger. Risk.”

Yeah. That made sense. “Or we could go talk to the folk, let ’em know we’re watchin’ ’em, let ’em know they’re wastin’ their time. They’re never gonna get out of the plains with ’em. We don’t have to go in guns pew-pewin’. Freed, take a load off of the hens’ minds.”

The growl rumbled again. I waited.

“I’ll talk to Piez,” he said. “I’m lettin’ him manage all the action that isn’t political.”

There was quiet. I looked at my cell. Yep, the counter had stopped tickin’. I need to design a ready-to-use-again dial tone for the cell phone company.

Toniz said, “I heard a lot of growlin’.” I love the long, drawn-out Z of his name. I should pronounce my name with a long Z. I mean I do, but a really long one.

I told him Ike has a lot to growl about right now.

“So ya are one of those uppity ups?” Toniz’ grin was pretty well hidden. “Tight with the big guy.”

I explained he’s my cousin, that we’d started OW together.

“Oh yeah, a big muckity muck.”

I could get to like this troll. His buddies were doin’ their own growl-chucklin’.

Toniz wafted his hand around the little livin’ room. “Expect a hotshot like ya to live in somethin’ fancier.”

Another might take offense at that. My turn to chuckle. My cabin back home is a lot more humble. I guess in comparison, ogres aren’t too big in showin’ off, or goin’ for luxury. If it’s comfortable, it’s good enough. Had to admit the facility’s gym and pool here are pretty cool. Could get used to that. Not a lot of swimmin’ in the Black Lake Hamlet. Summer daytime highs are in the sixties. Plus here if I wanted to shoot a few hoops, could catch the bus to Ike’s place. He has a basketball court instead of a livin’ room. Not that I’d ever want to shoot hoops. It’s a stupid game.

My phone rang again. I’d added Piez to my contacts earlier, so answered appropriately without havin’ to worry about a sales call.

“So come over. Toniz knows where we are. Ya can talk to ’em to yar heart’s content.”

~

Nuel

~

We’d been here a few hours and had tried to get comfortable. A new commotion rose on the other side of the door lockin’ us in. Agitated voices and a lot of scuffin’ about implied furniture bein’ piled up to stand off a breech. So went my imagination. Wasn’t so sure that’s good news, or bad.

There are humans who would be willin’ to use a hostage as a shield. But don’t think any humans that I had spent any time around would do that. Be kind of despicable.

“Maybe a good time to go through that glass,” Darshee said.

I felt a little light-headed so I wasn’t gung ho on bein’ overly proactive. Blood had soaked the top of my troll pantaloons pretty thoroughly. Now they were as much rust-colored as purple. Plus, even breathin’ hurt. Could feel my heartbeat rattle across my chest.

“If good guys are linin’ up outside,” Wizper said softly, “it’s gonna be trolls, a good four to one against these weak humans. They don’t have a chance. We might as well sit by and watch the fun.”

I liked the idea of sittin’, watchin’. Didn’t think there’d be much fun, though.

Darshee wasn’t convinced. She lifted a dandy little settee with a century-old-style country print over her shoulder and strode toward the wall of glass behind us. I closed one eye waitin’ for the concussion. No doubt the hen could blast through the thick glass without much fuss. When the boom didn’t occur, I tried to twist around against the turned-over armchair I rested against on the floor, but couldn’t see any reason for her to stop.

Wizper ripped her view from our friend, to the right, and a smile crossed her face.

“What?” I asked.

Wizper waved friendly-like at someone. I repeated my what with a little more vim. It hurt, but I leaned forward, rolled over on my hip, onto my knees, and peered around the chair.

Ouch, that hurt. Really shouldn’t have done that.

A troll face pressed up against the tinted glass to see inside. In one hand he held the unresponsive bulk of a human by the scruff, like a youngling might carry a half-forgotten doll. So someone had been playin’ guard out in the green space.

The troll smiled, wide, shared a wink, and wafted a free hand held about forty-five degrees, which I took to mean take it easy. Or hello.

A clack, lock turnin’ in the door behind me, which swung inward, and the troll lurched out of view.

One of the Northerners who abducted us stepped half-way into the room, a phone in one hand, a little spit-shooter-lookin’ short gun in the other. He took the three of us in with a worried scowl. “Someone outside, speaking Trollish I think, called us. Can’t understand a word he’s saying.”

For a few moments I enjoyed thinkin’ about the tech the folks outside had to be usin’ to identify cell transmissions in here. Near scifi stuff.

“Must not be a Northern troll,” Wizper muttered. “But never met a Southern troll either who didn’t speak Standish, for that matter.”

“I don’t care what kind of troll it is,” the human grouched. Must not be havin’ a good day. “Need a translator.”

I sank back against the up-turned armchair and held out my hand. The man motioned Wizper to back up. She tiptoed next to Darshee, still standin’ near the glass, but without the settee raised in the air now. Little gun pokin’ at me, he handed me the phone and backed up quickly. I grunted a hey.

“This Nuel?” the voice asked.

I didn’t expect any troll workin’ for Ike would recognize my voice, except for Jam, Frip, or Ponwr of course, and the place and time excluded ’em. And the tone of this voice rambled a bit rapidly for a troll anyway.

“Kriz?” I hissed maybe a little loudly. He speaks Standish better than most humans, though with a stutter, why’s he usin’ Trollish on the humans?

“Kriz?” Darshee and Wizper hissed. Don’t think they expected their OW buddy.

“How are the three of ya doin’?” he asked.

“They shot me in the stinkin’ chest,” I hissed. The human slumped visually.

For the next few moments, maybe a full minute, the idjit shouted Troll words not etched in any dictionaries I know about, loud enough the two hens and the human could hear. The man closed his eyes and turned a bit pale, no, paler than a bit.

Darshee laughed. Wizper covered half her face with a hand.

“What’s he saying?” the man asked.

“Oh,” Darshee said, “ya don’t even wanna know.”

“Didn’t know the bull had that in him,” Wizper whispered in Ogrish. “And why’s he speakin’ Trollish?”

I worked a little furiously to settle Kriz down. Finally had to shout, “Shut up, already.” That didn’t help my chest. For the human’s unease, I stuck with Trollish. The guy was startin’ to turn a little green. I loved it.

Finally got Kriz settled down but I could still sense his ire, maybe from the growl that emanated not just from the phone, but the entire buildin’, a vibration as though the Plain was experiencin’ an earthquake. Evidently every troll outside was mirrorin’ Kriz’ emotion.

In the old wars, it’s said the troll rumble was very effective at scarin’ the livin’ daylights out of their foes before a battle. The human backed up and leaned against the wall, gagged a little. The rumble was almost enough to make me vomit in my mouth, if it wasn’t makin’ me feel really optimistic.

“What’s he want?” the human asked after he swallowed a few times.

“Whadda ya think, fool?” Darshee screeched. I would have chortled but I knew it would hurt too much.

A new commotion rose outside the room. Were the trolls already breechin’ the buildin’? The human twisted around and disappeared. Booms and bangs continued, but not gunshots, more like heads bein’ pushed through walls. Maybe I have an active imagination. The troll rumble continued, but louder.

After five minutes or so it quieted. Kriz’ voice bubbled up from the cell I’d lowered to my lap. I raised it and gushed, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Ya can come on out now,” he said.