Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Ten

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I stood ramrod straight studyin’ space before the real world crept within my senses. The tinglin’ in my spine had vanished. Because Morgan, with that staff he carried, had left?

I stood alone smack in the middle of the veranda and those strollin’ the boardwalk had to maneuver around me. I apologized to a human couple and stepped against the banister. The troll bull, Yoso, walked westerly with the two picaroons Ike returned with. What were they gonna do with them? Had the decision been made? Up north, there were few jails. Most every sentence other than drunkenness, I’d heard, was a hangin’ offense.

As though the sight was rivetin’, my brain had nothin’ else to entertain itself with, I watched Yoso and the two humans steppin’ through the tall grass. Perhaps I wished to put off considerin’ my own, current options.

The three strode unhurried through the rye, followin’ the curve of the Lake. An ogre hen met them on what appeared a neighbor’s stake. The four walked to a cold cellar. The hen must have keyed a lock, for it took her a moment to lift the door. The two men evaporated into the ground without any argument that I could hear, at this distance.

“Psst.”

I looked behind me.

“Psst.”

To the left, ladies sat enjoyin’ the fresh air, chattin’, readin’, doin’ their needle point.

“Over here.”

I leaned over the banister. A human girl, not exactly a girl, a lady, petite thin’ no bigger than Ruth, waved to me in that come-hither fashion. I pointed to my chest.

She wrenched her face and rolled her eyes. “Who else?”

I hurried down the twelve-foot-wide steps leadin’ toward the Lake, stepped off the boardwalk that led to the pier, and followed her through the grass. She didn’t wait for me. I pushed into a jog to catch up.

“What is it ya want—” The tinglin’ struck me in the spine again. “—from me?”

“Other way around,” she said without slowin’ down. “The ladies have been sewin’ for ya. Best try on everythin’ before ya head into the forest.”

“Who says I’m headin’ into the forest.”

“What else ya gonna do, lad?”

I found myself snortin’ in indignation, as though I had numerous options. Though only the one fluttered to mind. Besides, I’m not so much younger than her. Why’s she callin’ me lad?

“Yeah, right,” she said.

“How do ya know who I am?” I asked.

“I bathed yar stark-white buttocks as ya slept yesterday. Healed ya, all I could.”

I sucked in a deep breath. Embarrassment over her bathin’ remark struck late.

“Just figgered out who I am?” she asked.

“Ya’re, ya’re—”

“Bad with names, are ya? I’m Delia. Don’t feel off about callin’ me the healer witch. I wouldn’t know what else to call me either. Better than bein’ called Lucas’ wench.”

She was certainly a brusque-talkin’ thin’.

We walked in silence for ten seconds over trampled grass. Delia turned left, followin’ a trench-of-sort paved with flattened stones, I guess slate, which led into an embankment. Before us a dark entry loomed, under a rounded mound of grass fifty feet wide that was interrupted every five feet with oval windows nestled within granite niches.

“Where’re ya takin’ me?”

“This is Yoso and Eina’s place,” Delia said. “Them trolls like to live within the Earth. Guess this be a concession to livin’ away from the mines.”

A wide door sat wide and I followed Delia inside. The space seemed greater than I expected. As my eyes adjusted from the outside glare, I peered at those about the thirty-foot-wide sittin’ room. Five orc hens sat with the two hamlet matriarchs, Eina and Gladys. All of them held articles of clothin’, threaded needles and knittin’ hooks surgin’. None of the hens, includin’ the human woman, looked up from their work.

Delia walked to a broad counter across from the main hearth and picked up a stack of thin’s, shoved them into my chest, and pointed through an open doorway.

“Try all these on. No point in traipsin’ off with them if they don’t fit.”

“They’ll fit,” Eina said, keepin’ her eyes on her needle. “I know how to measure a leg and an arm, troll or human.”

“Of course they will.” Delia turned back to me. “Try ’em on.”

All of these strangers are sewin’ for me?

I stumbled numbly into the adjoinin’ bedroom and examined the thin’s in my arms. One of every kind of undergarment, a shirt, pants, and coat. I’d never owned winter-quilted, long underwear before. My face flamed, thinkin’ about the troll hen measurin’ my every nook and cranny as I slept. I slipped out of my clothes and tested the fit of all. Nary a smidgen of tailorin’ would be necessary. I stepped back into the other room and reported the same.

“Said so,” Eina mumbled.

“A backpack there,” an orc hen hissed, pointin’, almost as though she were angry. “My son crafted it for yar use. Stow away yar thin’s as ya prefer.” Her hand waved, takin’ in another pile of clothes on the floor, and the laps of the females around her.

I picked up the pack, clearly a work of art as much as a useful tool. Three-foot tall, three broad pockets formed the back, two on each side, vigorous closures with droopin’ rain covers, all waxed-canvas double-layered with leather, broad straps. My eyes welled as I studied the leather that edged where the individual compartments were stitched together, which was branded to appear like the threads of a rope.

I can’t accept such a thin’. Any of this.

I turned to face Delia. Her eyes turned soft after a moment.

“Everyone in this room,” she said slowly, “came to this Hamlet with little more than the clothes on their back. From the compassion of those who arrived before them, homes were crafted, and now we take our turn to care for every newcomer.”

The slight woman bent down and picked up the short pile on the floor, and commenced refoldin’ each piece in a tight square. One by one she handed them to me, and I found an appropriate place in the pack for it. Teeth clippin’ final threads, the remainin’ articles joined the rest, and the hens and woman stood to leave.

A panic gripped my chest. I had no words to thank them. Tears threatened to escape. I froze, fearin’ to appear weak.

“No need, child, we know,” Miss Gladys said, and left the dugout.

The others followed except for Eina. I threaded my arms through the pack’s straps.

“Stay out of trouble,” Eina said.

My cheeks turned hot. I threaded the troll a grin, and hurried to follow Delia. Outside, the other females had split for different destinations. In silence, Delia and I walked toward the Inn. The path forked. Delia turned right, toward the kitchen entrance, and waved goodbye over her shoulder. I opened my mouth. Mama raised me to voice my appreciation. But no words formed.

After only pausin’ a moment to watch Delia make her way daintily over the arranged steppin’ stones, I turned and headed for the front of the Inn.

The ache in my chest was just beginnin’ to ease as I trudged up the main steps. Morgan stood at the top, gazin’ south. I stopped beside him, turned to see what he studied. The sparklin’ surface of Black Lake spread as far as the eye could see to the west. East, the cove stepped into ever taller peaks spreadin’ north to south, covered in forests purple-thick.

I blew out a long breath of air.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” Morgan asked.

“Aye, it is indeed.”

“Aye. Ya can see why the Northerners put up with us beasts to enjoy the place.”

As though I’d stepped into a giant oven, my skin prickled hot.

The warlock chuckled, in the gravelly ogre-ish way. “Don’t ever forget it lad.”

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked through a tight throat.

“That ya are.” Morgan barked a loud laugh.

I expected a heavy thump on the back. But that must not be every ogre’s way, maybe even unique to Ike. Morgan had just made the point that generalizations belittled.

Learn yar lesson, Paul!

“Louisa packed ya a few thin’s,” Morgan said. “Lunch, by the smell of it, includin’ fresh biscuits and bacon.” He pointed to a near chair, his snout twitchin’.

Next to the flour sack was a pack similar to mine, except twice as broad and half-again as tall, appropriate for an ogre’s back. Before slippin’ it on, Morgan stowed Louisa’s treat in the top of my pack. As though it was gift wrapped with a bow, I wanted to tear into the bag to see what else it held.

“Ya up to hikin’ a half-day with what ya’re wearin’?” Morgan asked.

“Ya were pretty sure I’d go with ya.”

Morgan smiled. “Best go tell yar sister ya’ll be gone a while. We can stop by on the other side of the lake to see the little ones.”

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