The Song the Ogre Sang

by Peter Fane

  “The Chief? Ha!” Crazy Bill laughed from what sounded like very far away. “Chief the one that tied you up, kid. You been a bad soldier. Been up there talkin’ all kinds of crazy. Chief is sick and tired of your stupid, boy. Sick and tired of your crazy.”

  But Dan could barely hear him now; he was sinking faster down into his new body, down into his new Stormy skin.

  “You been up there, thinkin’ you is so good. Chief says you needs a lesson. I gonna give it to you. Me and you, Dan. Big day. Big lesson.” He patted Dan’s stomach, but Dan didn’t feel it. In his head, he was almost entirely Stormy now; big Stormy didn’t feel anything. No, sir.

  Crazy Bill smiled. His eyes glowed. “Big day—.”

  Then Crazy Bill coughed.

  And made a weird, wet noise.

  Dan opened his eyes, but he couldn’t really see properly because he’d been so far down inside his Stormy skin. He did see bright red blood running down Bill’s shirt and there was a hooked bird’s beak pushing out of Bill’s throat, a black beak, like a beak digging through a crunchy egg, pushing through the skin. Blood squirted on the floor. The black beak was moving up and down in Bill’s throat, more blood running down his shirt, the beak turning this way and that. Bill waved his hands. His eyes rolled white, his teeth opened and shut, opened and shut. The beak was all the way through Bill’s throat now, blood dribbling on the floor between his knees. And then the beak disappeared. There were a couple of wet slaps; Bill jerked with each one. Then Bill fell on his side and Mistress Croot moved up into the lamp glow, her weird eye rolling off in the wrong way. Crazy Bill gurgled once, then didn’t gurgle any more.

  Mistress Croot looked down at Dan, at his wrists and ankles. Then she shook her head, the weird hump on her back bobbing. Her weird eye caught the light.

  Dan blinked and started to come back from where he had been in his head, to come back from being Stormy.

  This is what they do to their best.

  Mistress Croot frowned.

  Dan looked at her.

  He’d never heard Mistress Croot speak before because Mistress Croot never talks. But she wasn’t talking now, either. Instead, her voice was inside his head, soft and kind. Her good eye looked sad. Mistress Croot knelt at his side, put her hand on his chest, right over his heart.

  This is how they respect their greatest strength.

  Then her bad eye seemed to change, to focus on him, to shrink and become how a normal eye would be, dark and pretty, and she didn’t have a hump anymore either, and she wasn’t all old and hobbled. She was a beautiful lady, white skin so smooth. There was a black stone in her forehead, a black egg that didn’t shine. Her teeth were white, her hair was black, like the black you see at night. But how could that be? Dan blinked. Maybe he was a crazy, after all. He blinked again. This didn’t make any sense.

  The beautiful lady looked down at him and smiled. It was the saddest smile Dan had ever seen.

  She took something from the floor. It was a black knife. Its point was hooked and nasty, like a bird’s beak. She used the knife to cut the twine at Dan’s wrists and his ankles.

  Then the beautiful lady looked at him.

  Her eyes were dark, like Lord Michael’s, and Dan could feel himself falling up through them. Her voice in his head was like a song he’d always known.

  You are needed today, war singer. Needed as never before.

  Dan nodded, but he didn’t know what the lady meant or how she could be talking in his head.

  And you see us as we are, do you not?

  Dan frowned at her question, but then nodded to himself because he saw her, and that’s what she was asking, right?

  She smiled her sad smile and touched his chest again, his heart.

  Because of this, I tell you truly: We would never harm you. But we will not stop you from harming yourselves. When you fight, you fight for us. When you win, you win for us. And when you die, you die for us. The work must be protected. The promise must be kept.

  She looked at Dan for a long while. Then she rubbed his wrists and his ankles for a bit, and he was already feeling better, coming all the way out of his Stormy skin, his head a little foggy but better. And when he looked up at her again, she was just Mistress Croot, nodding and bobbing. She handed him a little treat. He didn’t know where the other lady was, or really what had happened; it was like another dream. And then she was gesturing for him to follow. So he got up, went to the bathroom, and followed.

  25

  THEY WALKED FROM the barracks, Mistress Croot wobbling in front of him, out into the lower passage, past the food cart. Dan grabbed a muffin, eating as they walked to the iron gate, up the western stairs, up to the main hall. He still wasn’t sure what he’d seen, or what it meant, but he was hungry—he knew that much.

  When they got to the main hall, Dan saw that all the cleaning crews were out, hundreds of little cleaners all lined up, sharp and tight. Master Shum and Master Falmon were there at the front. Master Falmon was wearing silver armor, talking to everyone about something, all the kids at attention in rows. There were four big kids standing up there in front with Master Shum and Master Falmon. Dan didn’t know who three of them were, but one was Chief Tendal.

  Dan and Mistress Croot came up to Master Falmon. Master Falmon glanced at her, looked down at Dan, and frowned. Master Shum tapped his club against his chin. When the Chief saw Dan, he gave him a dirty look and looked away. The Chief seemed mad—but kind of scared, too. Master Falmon nodded to Mistress Croot. Mistress Croot just kind of bobbed and nodded. Dan had this crazy vision of her—kind of like a memory—but it was already fading, and it didn’t make much sense anyways, so best it be gone for good. No crazies down here!

  Master Falmon turned away, looked over the army of kids, adjusted his eyepatch, and said, like he was wrapping things up, “Let’s do our best this morning. The High Lords are counting on us. For the Remain.”

  Master Falmon put his fist across his chest, and all the little cleaners did the exact same thing. Dan saluted, too.

  “Master Shum,” Master Falmon said, turning things over to the Master.

  Master Shum saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s get these soldiers to work.”

  “Yes, Master Falmon, sir.” Master Shum turned to the crews and yelled, “Let’s get to it!”

  All the other chiefs and their top girls turned around and started yelling at their crews, and all the cleaners started milling around and going where they were supposed to go to start the work, but the Chief and the other big kids at the front didn’t go anywhere.

  Master Falmon turned and knelt in front of Dan. “Told you to be on time, sharp and tight, Dan.”

  Dan saluted and raised his chin. “Sorry, Master Falmon, sir! I do it better, sir! My fault, sir!”

  Master Falmon looked at Mistress Croot and Master Shum, then back to Dan. “How’s the arm?”

  “Good, sir!” Dan saluted again, even though his arm hurt. “Thank you, sir! Very good, like tough old wood!” Then he added, for good measure, “Ready to work, sir!”

  Master Falmon looked him over, then his eyes went narrow. He took Dan’s sore arm and looked at his wrist, at the red lines made by the twine the Chief had used to tie him up. Dan’s face went red, but he couldn’t pull his hand away, because that wouldn’t be what a soldier would do. Master Falmon lifted Dan’s wrist to show Master Shum. The Chief and the other big kids looked at Dan’s wrist, too. Master Shum frowned, tapped his club against the side of his head. The Master gently squeezed Dan’s wrist and let go. Dan blinked and saluted.

  Master Falmon stood up. “I don’t want to see something like this again,” he growled at Master Shum. There was something in Master Falmon’s voice that Dan had never heard before, and suddenly Dan was real scared for Master Shum. The Master continued, “I see something like this again, you’re done.” Master Shum saluted without a word and walked away, over to where Val and Benjy Dalter were giving the pals and the girls their orders for the day, swin
ging his club in a circle.

  Master Falmon looked down at the Chief. “You know anything about this, boy?”

  “No, sir! Master Falmon, sir!” the Chief hollered, his chin up.

  The Master frowned. “And why not? He’s your man, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, sir, Master Falmon!” the Chief yelled, but he looked confused and nervous.

  Master Falmon turned to Dan, knelt in front of him, and took his wrist, holding the red line up to the light. “Who did this, Dan? Who tied you like this?”

  Over Master Falmon’s shoulder, the Chief was staring at Dan. Mistress Croot was staring at the Chief, her weird eye catching the light.

  Dan didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t say bad things against the Chief, that was against the rules. But you couldn’t lie to Master Falmon, either.

  “You tell me right now, soldier,” Master Falmon said. His voice was real quiet. “Who did this?”

  Dan nodded. “My fault, Master Falmon, sir. We were playing. Just playing. Looks worse than it is. I didn’t see the Chief do nothing, sir. For truth.” That was true. “We just playing, that’s all.”

  Master Falmon looked at him for a long moment. There was a strange look in his eye. Then he nodded. “Alright. You hungry? You get anything to eat?”

  “Yes, sir! Master Falmon, sir!” Dan saluted. “Ate a muffin!”

  Master Falmon nodded. Then he motioned Chief Tendal and the other big kids to come closer; they did. The Chief was looking at Dan like he was gonna kill him. But why? Dan didn’t do anything but help the Chief out.

  Master Falmon said, “You five are gonna be up today, helping out the war adepts’ squires on the big guns. It’s hard work, but it’s safe, you’ll be inside the star trees’ perimeter. If battle comes, you’ll need to keep the squires’ water buckets full, keep the ladles clean, keep fresh towels and supplies at the ready—anything those squires call for their adepts, you need to be there, sharp and tight, fast as the bunny, get me?”

  “Yes, sir! Master Falmon, sir!” the five kids shouted together.

  Master Falmon nodded. “Gonna be two helpers for each gun. Tendal and Stef, you’re gonna go with Stormhammer. Gilda and Jass, you’re with Oblivion. Dan, you’re gonna be the runner. Know what that means?”

  Dan thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.

  “It means you go between both of the guns, and if something comes up, if the other helpers or the squires need something for their adepts or their cannon, then you step in and help.” Then Master Falmon leaned down and whispered in Dan’s ear, “And if the time comes to sing, Dan, then you do what the adepts tell you—exactly what they tell you. They know you’re gonna be there. They will tell you what to do. Hear me?”

  Dan stared at Master Falmon, then nodded. Then he stood tall and saluted. “Runner gets the water, keeps it clear, Master Falmon! Do what them adepts say! Do a good job! Help out!” None of that sounded too hard, and he was gonna be up there with Stormy fighting, so he was happy about that. “I’ll do a good job, sir!”

  The big kids were looking at him like he was a crazy, and Chief looked angrier than Dan had ever seen him, so he shut his mouth. Mistress Croot wobbled and bobbed and patted him on the head.

  Master Falmon looked at Dan for a moment. Then he nodded, adjusted his eyepatch, and touched the deep scar on his forehead. “I know you will, Dan.”

  26

  LITTLE DAN FOLLOWED Master Falmon and the Chief and the other kids up and up and up. But it was hard to keep up with them, and finally Master Falmon told the Chief to pick him up, and the Chief did, looking mad and carrying him all the way until they got up to the big Square.

  Up there in the Square, there were all kinds of folks moving around. The place was more packed than before. A little bit of snow was coming, too. They went through a couple of big doors and down a big hall, Master Falmon yelling at people to get out of the way. Then they went through another passage, into a smaller courtyard—and right there, Dan saw Stormy and Oblivion waiting by a huge door with a bunch of war adepts and squires and bear riders and ogres. Lord Doldon was there, too, talking with one of the war adepts. The adepts wore blue robes like they always did. The bears and riders and ogres wore their silver armor. When Lord Doldon saw Master Falmon, he walked over, clasped arms with the Master, and then looked down and winked at Dan. Dan put his heels together and saluted. Lord Doldon looked at the other helpers, then back at Master Falmon.

  “We good?” Lord Doldon asked.

  “Yeah,” Master Falmon grunted. “How goes it here?”

  “Guns and adepts and everything up and ready to go.” Lord Doldon cocked his head over at the big door. “Riders are ready. Michael’s up, too. Last minute check on the gear. Garen and Colj getting set to head out.” He glanced over at the big door, then looked at the sky. A single snowflake landed on his cheek. “Any minute now, I should think.”

  “Our adepts ready for our young friend, here?” Master Falmon touched Dan on the shoulder. Dan didn’t know what he meant.

  “Of course. They’re ready to guide him, should something manifest.” Lord Doldon looked down at Dan and winked at him.

  “What about our batteries?” Master Falmon asked.

  “Mortars and big iron crewed and stocked and ready. Fire all day, every day, for a week, if we need ‘em.”

  “Dragons?” Master Falmon asked.

  “Anna’s been up and away for the last bell, out of range, waiting our signal. Never seen such a flight. Must be six hundred dragons, in all. Been coming through most of the night.”

  “Zar?”

  Lord Doldon laughed. “He and Gregory are up there with their ‘regiment,’ guess you’d call it? Up on the western rampart. Gonna be big action today. Big action.”

  Master Falmon frowned. “Big gamble.”

  Lord Doldon looked Master Falmon in the eye but didn’t say anything for a bit. Then he glanced down at Dan and the other helpers. “This elite squad ready?”

  “Yes, sir!” all the helpers yelled and saluted.

  Lord Doldon looked down at Dan. “You ready, Big Dan?”

  Dan nodded and saluted again.

  “You’re gonna do great.” Lord Doldon looked over at Stormy and Oblivion by the big door, toward the adepts and bears and ogres. “Better get in line with our big guns there. Time to get started.”

  27

  HIGH ATOP THE Pinnacle, the tallest tower on the Tarn’s western side, safe beneath the coppery leaves of one of Garen’s smaller star trees, Kyla Dallanar looked out over the Long Bridge.

  They were waiting for parley to begin.

  Tarlen and Susan stood in front of Kyla, their furs bundled against the cold. Bruno lay on the granite pavers at the tower’s western battlement, muscly legs straight in front of him, snoring away. Ponj stood behind Kyla, just in front of their star tree, the young ogre’s thick arms crossed over his armored chest. Also present on the tower’s top—for good or ill—were Filip Toller and his scouts. The whole crew had been assigned to them as escorts, just as Garen had promised, their long carbines hidden under some old banners beneath the tower’s crenellation.

  The entire situation was awkward, for a couple of reasons.

  First, Filip was still ignoring her, but at least this time, she could understand why: His eyes were locked onto the Long Bridge, below. Kyla had learned that Filip had indeed returned with a prisoner of some value earlier that morning, at least that’s what people were saying. But Kyla still didn’t understand why that should mean anything or why that would have changed his behavior toward her.

  Second, and more importantly, Filip and his scouts were most definitely armed. Garen and Doldon had specifically told Kyla not to bring weapons to the Pinnacle. Of course, she and Tarlen had objected to the order, but her uncles had been firm. “We can’t give any excuse for aggression, Ky,” Garen had said. “You know this.” And then Doldon had pulled her aside and told her that Michael had forbidden it. “A weapon is a target, Ky,” he had sai
d. “Michael doesn’t want you and the children drawing fire.” And yet here were Filip, Sledder, Quine, and Tellerman—all toting guns. Garen and Doldon were right, of course. The enemy’s spotters and sharpshooters would be watching for any sign of deceit, any hostility. A glimmer of silver from rooftop easily could be misunderstood. Which made it even more annoying that the scouts had their weapons and she didn’t have hers.

  Kyla rubbed her shoulders through her furs. She looked up to the cloudy sky, then leaned over the tower’s battlements, gazing out over the Long Bridge, over the sprawl of Tarntown, up to the high western ridge, the harbor’s stone breakwater to the north. Everywhere she looked—across the headlands, around the barbican, even across Tarntown’s great docks—she could see the enemy’s men, cannon, and war machines. The entire town was filled by Dorómy’s army. It was a force the likes of which she’d only read about. Thirty thousand men, perhaps more. Armor, guns, horses, men, and thousands of other creatures from who knows where. Over there, near the city center, a big squad of giants from Okógon, each twice as big as Colj, were busy tearing down part of Tarntown’s old fortification wall, using the material for new gun ramparts. Over there, on the northern mole, some new siege fortifications were going up. And over there, on the southwestern embankment, a thick wall of rough-cut logs now blocked the Tarn’s vantage of that side of town. Hundreds of war pennants hung limp in the cold air, banners from a dozen duchies. Far to the north, a few rebel angels from Tarcéron soared lazily in the distance, black wings like huge black birds, sharp against the grey horizon.