Chapter Eight
~
I shook my head to hurry away the cobwebs. Ouch. “Huh?”
“Ya think ya can rise? Better if ya go out to the dinin’ room to eat. Louisa would hand feed ya like a pet rabbit for a month.”
“I, uh—”
“Put these on. Eina sewed ’em up for ya. Took a hundred measurements while ya were sleepin’. Ought to fit like an extra layer of skin, they should.”
My eyes finally focused on the ogre’s face, the ogre who started all of this, made the decision to strand me at ogre Ike’s lair, separated me from my sisters, ran off Papa.
Morgan, the blasted ogre warlock.
I remembered hearin’ somethin’ made the ogre’s dreadlocks on one side of his head turn white, but assumed that meant a streak of gray. But white covered a full, half of his head. The effect reminded me of a set of bone-carved dominos I once saw in a store window, white on the pip-side, painted a glossy ebony on the backside.
Morgan didn’t wait for an answer. He flicked the fluffy bed coverin’ off me and grabbed my shoulder, had me sittin’ up on the side of the bed before I could argue. The ogre slid a soft-cotton shirt over my head. I struggled like a drunken sot to get my arms in the sleeves. I’d barely gotten my head through the proper openin’ before the warlock propelled me to my feet.
Gone was Louisa’s delicate hand. Welcome to the brusqueness of an ogre bull.
I rubbed my cheek against the collar of the shirt. I’d never worn anythin’ so soft in my life. Not rough home-loomed. Not by a long sight.
“Ya awake lad?” the ogre grumbled. “Leg up.”
Morgan held out a pair of long pants, dressy, soft, not suitable for sloppin’ hogs or pitchin’ hay.
“Eina sewed ya some canvas pants and work shirts, though never met a human but one who knew how to bend their back into effort.”
The comment entertained me. Humans mostly deride ogres, trolls too for that matter, for their lack of industriousness. I peered into the ogre’s face.
“What ya grinnin’ about, lad?”
“I guess I was wonderin’ who that hard workin’ human is.” Was the ogre bright enough to catch the sarcasm as I slurred the words, hard workin’?
He must not have caught it, because he answered in a straight enough fashion. “That brother of Lucas’. Never seen the man slow down so long as to drink a full cup of tea. Wish Lucas had some of the man’s gumption.”
Tea. Men wouldn’t drink tea. Good black coffee that oozed out of a soot-caked pot was a man’s drink, Papa said once.
I got my legs into the pants and Morgan walked for the door, leavin’ me to straighten myself out. I searched for my boots. The ogre reached the door and grabbed that staff of his, and that stronger tinglin’ sensation shot up my spine. As I jerked erect, I lost my balance and stumbled.
“Louisa threw yar old boots away,” Morgan said. “Never been able to figure out why ya humans have to wear those horrible things. The orc Kelhin sewed those for ya.” He pointed to a pair of pointy-toed thin’s, the kind molded to easily slip into a stirrup, by the nightstand.
I sat and picked them up. The uppers of the boots were softer than any pair of gloves. The leather was exquisite, fancier than anythin’ I’d ever set eyes on.
“Ya havin’ trouble breathin’?” Morgan asked.
I closed my mouth, shook my head, and tugged on the wool socks left next to the boots. I felt guilty as I slid my feet into the boots. They were too fine to walk in.
Morgan stamped his staff as he turned for the hallway. That spike dashed up my spine again and for an instant I sensed—didn’t know what, as though I flitted off to a dream where I listened to the thoughts of others.
Staggerin’ a tad from the ugly sensation, I hurried to catch up to the warlock. I held onto the jamb of the door as I walked through it.
“Yar head clearin’ up?” Morgan asked.
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“Ike didn’t mention ya were polite. Eina will like that. Ya don’t want to rile that troll. She’s one ya wish to keep on yar side.”
“Eina?” The white-haired troll hen’s face came to me as I stammered.
“Gladys will love ya no matter what. But if ya ever irritate Eina, her bull will make yar life miserable.”
There were too many names comin’ at me too fast. I stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned against the banister, in no hurry to challenge the steps.
I ran the names through my head again.
Louisa’s the ginger ogre hen who cared for me.
Yoso, the troll, carried me inside. Yoso is Eina’s mate.
Trolls don’t distinguish husband and wives, I remembered. They’re mates. Same with ogres and all the other races. Why would only humans need a special word for the ones we commit to live our lives with? Funny.
“Ya need a hand?” Morgan asked from the middle landin’.
My face burned. I’m no little girl requirin’ assistance. I took a step down and my head tilted on my shoulders as though it wished to wander through the forest without me. Maybe I did need help. But I was too stubborn to ask for it. I grasped the banister tight enough knuckles popped, and continued down. My blurred vision cleared somewhat, but it still seemed as though I peered through five feet of water.
I made the first landin’, even though I hadn’t seen my fancy boots land on a single step. I rested a moment, and my vision cleared. Morgan stood in the middle of the huge common area, the lobby of the Inn, looking back at me, a razor-sharp edge of impatience on his face.
“I’m comin’. I’m comin’.”
I glanced about the massive room. Mostly humans sat about. Women held knittin’ in their laps, mostly, while the men clung to a pipe, leanin’ back like kings in their overstuffed chairs. An elf hen tiptoed about the room speakin’ softly to the guests, who would peer down at her and give her a great big smile.
The troll bull with the white dreadlocks, Yoso, sat in the corner with an ogre who wore work overalls. They leaned over a checker board.
“Today would be nice,” Morgan said.
I swallowed, and hurried down the last stairs to join Morgan, who didn’t wait for me. I followed the ogre into the dinin’ room. It must have been later in the mornin’ than I assumed. Only five tables held guests, all humans. The three boys from the buckboard had talked about Northerners as though none would be returnin’ to the Black Lake Inn because of some pact. Maybe they overestimated, or exaggerated. Seemed to be plenty of Northerners at the Inn now.
Morgan selected a table at the back near the kitchen entrance. He leaned his staff against the wall and sat, waved at me to replace the ogre-size chair across from him for a human-sized one from the near, empty table. He wasn’t gonna be spoilin’ me as that sweet Louisa had.
After bein’ coddled the last day, it’s funny to be treated such, by Morgan the ogre, but in a way, I appreciated it. I sat and pulled up my chair to the tall table, eyes continuin’ to take in every aspect of the enormous dinin’ room.
Everythin’ was rustic in architecture but finely laid out in amenities, such as white tablecloths, linen napkins, and eyelet doilies. Comfortable. Yet mostly tough. A proper place for the Range, the boundary of the Wildes.
I jerked and studied what had to be the sweetest lookin’ human girl I’d ever set eyes on, excludin’ kin. She actually gave me a wink, as she set a two-foot long platter in the center of the table. Contained sausages, ham, roasted chicken, scrambled eggs, biscuits, with two little tubs of gravy that made my jaws ache, the saliva ran so fast.
Morgan scooped mounds of food onto the plate the girl set in front of him. She stepped away and returned with two steamin’ cups. The aroma of coffee rose in mine, the real stuff, not the burned potatoes Mama served Papa. Morgan took a sip from his mug.
“Ahhh,” he said.
Tea. What do ogres see in tea? Tastes like muddy water to me.
Morgan and I ate in silence for ten minutes.
The front door of the Inn, a hundred feet away, flung open. I wrenched around at the unexpected clamor. A man flew through the entrance, staggerin’ to remain on his feet, arms flailin’. A second one entered the same fashion, clearly aided in his transport.
The bulk of the giant ogre Ike strode in, face less placid than his usual. I’d never seen the ogre irritated, but the way he faced the two bedraggled humans, he obviously held a deep sort of contempt for them. Not a good sign, for them or me. Wasn’t my situation bad enough? Didn’t need the ogre already mad about somethin’ else.
Conversation in the lobby and dinin’ room only paused for a three-count, before everyone went about their business. It was a bit odd, two humans bein’ manhandled in public like that by a giant of an ogre, with no one takin’ any particular worry.
Ike seemed to peer directly into my soul for a moment lastin’ a lifetime. My skin tingled. Didn’t look forward to facin’ my former host after—the memory of the bag of gold seared.
Ike turned his eyes on Morgan. The two offered each other a nod, and Ike gave the two humans a shove toward the dinin’ room. He pointed them to chairs at the next table, gave Morgan a molar-loosening double-slap on the back and dragged one of the ogre-sized chairs to our table.
I almost stood, as Mama taught me to do when an elder came near, but remembered the ogre had asked me one day, “Why ya stand every time I come into the room?” I never did after that, but my sense of responsibility to stand clearly hasn’t escaped.
My face burned, and I felt sweat bead on my forehead. What would the ogre say about me runnin’ away? More importantly, there was that missin’ bag of gold.
“Caught ’em, eh?” Morgan said, not really in query form.
“Any doubt?” Ike said softly.
“Expected ya to carry back bodies, my only surprise,” Morgan said.
“Nah. Let good ole Mayor Lucas worry about what to do with ’em. He want ’em dead, he’s got to do that.”
Somethin’ the size of a fist lodged in my throat. Didn’t like the tone of the conversation thus far.
“What’d they do?” I asked, clippin’ my words. Had no idea how I found the gall to speak to Ike.
“Stealin’ and disrespect.” Ike raised his voice clearly for the benefit of the two men. “Ought to hang ’em now. Don’t hardly seem right to bother with feedin’ ’em.”
Morgan chuckled and took a sip of his tea as the cute human girl set a mug in front of Ike. I smiled inwardly. It was coffee, not the typical ogre’s tea.
“Took ya some time,” Morgan said.
“I was in no hurry. Hadn’t had a minute to enjoy the southern forests since before the plague struck.”
“Uh huh,” Morgan murmured with a grin he maybe tried to hide.
“What’s that mean?” Ike asked. It sounded a little bit like what Taiz’lin did, deep in his chest. An influence from the dragon I guessed, the two bein’ bonded as it were.
Ike finally turned and looked down at me, and heat penetrated every pore. I coughed, and my throat tightened a bit more.
“Had an adventure I hear,” the ogre said.
I nodded. My heart had suddenly pumped every bit of my blood into my head. It would surely pop.
~
No comments:
Post a Comment