The Palace Job

by Patrick Weekes

  "Jerl Blackspear," Kail murmured beneath the noise of the crowd. "Village speaker. Wants to be mayor, once they're big enough to merit one. Trades on having fought in the war."

  "To order!" Jerl yelled, and the crowd finally settled down. "Everyone be quiet! We all know why we're here, so settle down, and let's talk about ogres."

  At the word, the crowd went still. Jerl smiled.

  "That's right!" Jerl called to the now-silent crowd. "That's what we've got. Ogres. And I know you're scared. Scared they'll come kill your children, scared they'll crush you under those huge clubs like that bear we found smashed like an egg in the woods." He let it sink in. "But I know all about ogres. I killed a good dozen when they raided Hendkirk's barony. You let me plan this, you listen good and careful, and we'll do the same here."

  "Captain, this is going to be bloody," Kail said quietly. "You sure we can't find someplace safer to go recruiting?"

  "You're saying the beasts will attack?" asked an old woodsman.

  "It's all under control." Loch smiled slightly.

  Kail grimaced. "What can your friend do against a mob of angry villagers? Or an ogre clan?"

  "As I recall... arrogant apple." Loch raised a finger as Kail shot her a look.

  "Hell, yes, I'm saying they'll attack!" Jerl barked. "They're arrogant, and they'll bite into our children's heads like you'd bite into an apple!"

  Kail pursed his lips. "Okay. I'm curious."

  "Arrogant apple, babbling brook," Loch said without looking at him.

  "And you want us to put our lives in your hands?" a matronly woman with flour-dusted hands called out.

  "Who else is it going to be?" Jerl snarled. "You'd just babble like a brook while they... while they kill us all! These beasts are arrogant, and... but I've fought them before!"

  "So your fairy friend," Kail began.

  "Didn't say she was a fairy," Loch said. "Arrogant apple, babbling brook, creeping cat."

  "If you think you can just creep like a cat into their lairs by the babbling brook, you're just a dawdling duck!" Jerl stammered to a halt, blinking rapidly.

  "Dawdling duck?" Kail asked.

  Loch nodded. "She's got the rhythm, now."

  "So your magical-creature friend who may or may not be a fairy," Kail said, "can play with people's thoughts?"

  Loch grinned. "Picked that up all on your own, did you?"

  Over the confused mutters of the crowd, the rangy young hunter that Loch had watched walk back into the forest raised his hand. "I would like to try to stop the ogres myself. I think I can do it."

  "And she always uses the same patter?" Kail asked.

  "Says the man who always leads with the mother insults," Loch said without looking at him.

  Jerl shook his head, grimacing. "Merigan! You think you can... you apple-cheeked, babbling cat dawdling while... No!" he snapped over the growing calls from the crowd. "No! I can lead us! You can't kill an ogre with excellent eggs!"

  Loch looked over at Kail. "Excellent eggs was the next one." Kail snorted. "Got that, thanks. After that?"

  "Fondling fern, gullible something... Honestly, they usually fall over around this point."

  "I respect your experience, Speaker Blackspear," Merigan said firmly, "but I would like to try nevertheless." He turned to the crowd. "Send me out alone, and if I fail, then let Woodsedge do as it must!"

  Jerl had dropped his hammer and now clutched the table with both hands. "I can fondle more ogres than... babbling... not arrogant, I just..." Over the laughter and calls from the crowd, he shouted, "Creeping like ferns!"

  "Will you let me try?" Merigan called. "Give me one chance. I will stop the ogres or die in the attempt."

  "You're out of order! It's not your turn to arrogant apple, babbling brook, creeping cat," Jerl shouted, and then added, "dawdling duckling, excellent eggshells, fondling fern, gullible goat!"

  And with that, the speaker for Woodsedge fell over.

  "Okay, she may be better than the fairy on the register," Kail admitted. "Where is she, anyway?"

  As the calls rose from the room for Merigan to take his chance against the ogres, Loch pointed at the rafters.

  There, unnoticed by most, a shining white dove perched and looked out over the crowd.

  Bathed in sunbeams that crept through the twisting branches to find her, Ululenia fluttered into the camp of the Besnisti. The great creatures were arguing as she came, and she wore the form of the snowy white dove, so none took notice of her.

  "The small ones have defiled our sacred place!" one of the elders growled, baring her tusks at the threat to the clan. "They have stolen the snowmelt-bear we offered to the forest spirits! They will offer it to their own spirits now, and make war upon us!"

  Another elder stood and extended a massive hand. After a moment, the one who had spoken passed over the Staff of Words, and the new speaker said, "We are newly wakened from the winter-sleep, and our people are hungry. If we bathe our clubs in anger-blood, we will not have time to hunt."

  The Besnisti watching the discussion nodded, and Ululenia watched them from a low branch at the edge of the clearing. They were a simple people, violent but careful to follow the tenets of the land.

  The first speaker angrily took back the Staff of Words. "Does the deer who sees the wolf drawing near keep gnawing at leaves? The small ones hunt us!" She looked to her people. "They do not follow the ways of the forest! They have brought fire! They have broken the great trees to make room for their huts! I am eldest among us, and I have seen the Besnisti driven away before. If we do not defend ourselves, they will kill us all!"

  Ululenia looked at the mind of the elder and knew sorrow, for she was not wrong in her fears. The ogres had lost much of their woodlands to the humans in Ululenia's lifetime. When the ogres ignored the humans, the humans attacked and slaughtered the ogres. When the ogres attacked first, the humans died but returned later with warriors in great numbers.

  And then, as Ululenia felt the elder's despair, one of the

  Besnisti in the crowd spoke. y?,,

  It was one of the young adults, newly grown during his winter-long sleep. The others shuffled and coughed uncomfortably, since he was not an elder, and did not hold the Staff of Words.

  But Ululenia saw hope.

  "Why did they take the snowmelt-bear?" the young male asked. "They live in huts instead of under the trees and stars. What if they don't know why we leave the bear for the forest spirits? What if they only see a broken bear and thought we wanted to break them, too?"

  The elder with the Staff of Words growled. "You are young, and know not your words," she said. "While you ask questions, the small ones sharpen their spears to..."

  She broke off as the Staff of Words quivered in her hands.

  A moment later, she stumbled back with a cry as it jerked itself from her grasp. It landed in the soft earth, and as the Besnisti gasped, roots shot from the base of the staff and dug into the ground. The stone spikes on the staffs striking head sprang off with little popping sounds as branches stretched out, already dotted with new green leaves.

  Ululenia landed in the clearing and took her true form. Her horn blazed in every color of nature's glory as she stood in front of the new sapling and looked out upon the Besnisti.

  As one, they dropped to their knees before her.

  Whickering softly, Ululenia pawed the soft earth, and into their minds said, I ask that you heed the wisdom that comes from youth. Then she turned to the young male who had asked the right question. This is what you must do...

  "A unicorn."

  "That's the common word for her, yes."

  Loch and Kail stood with the villagers at the perimeter of Woodsedge, watching the forest.

  "She was a bird."

  "Shapeshifter."

  Merigan, the young man who had asked for a chance to deal with the ogres himself, stood at the front of the group. He had told everyone that morning that he'd had a dream, and the ogres would come today. Loch saw that the young
man was unarmored—a village woodcutter would never have been able to afford any protection worth wearing—but carried an old infantry blade that must have belonged to his father.

  "And, what, she usually just wants to look like a horse with a big point on its head?"

  "Evidently, Kail."

  "I'm not sure I'd want a team member who thought that walking around as a horse was the best plan."

  "She's a magical creature. That might be her natural..." Loch started, then paused at cries from the crowd. She followed the pointing fingers and saw the ogres at the edge of the forest, a hundred yards distant. "Here we go."

  Kail cracked his knuckles. "Sure about this, Captain? You know they're scared of fire. We could—"

  "She's got this."

  "She being the magical creature that wants to look like a pointy-headed horse."

  "The same, yes." Loch pointed at Merigan with her chin. "He had a dream last night. This is going to be okay."

  She ignored Kail's muttered response as one of the ogres stepped out from the trees and came toward the village. He was nine feet tall, garbed in heavy furs, and he held a great staff set with bone teeth at either end. His skin was dark and leathery, and a pair of horns curled out from his head.

  "Only one set of horns, and they don't even form a complete circle." Kail cocked his head. "He's practically a kid."

  Loch nodded. "Just like Merigan." The young man was walking forward as well, his sword held before him.

  The ogre gestured at Merigan with his great staff and roared a challenge in his own tongue.

  Merigan raised his sword. "For Woodsedge, I challenge you!"

  The two figures met midway between the trees and the village. The ogre lifted its great war staff with a roar, and Merigan lunged in and swung his sword. The blow struck the ogre on the chest, glancing off his thick furs.

  And with a barely perceptible pause, the ogre fell down, dropped his staff, and raised his hands in surrender.

  "You are kidding me," Kail said under the villagers' cheers. "There wasn't even any blood."

  "Spirit of the thing, Kail." Loch smiled as Merigan raised his sword, then looked sharply off into the forest.

  "I'm just saying, as someone who occasionally rigs fights, I'm offended by the lack of professionalism."

  Instead of bringing his blade down for the killing blow, Merigan stepped back, still looking into the forest. Then he turned to the villagers and called out, "They have been defeated! And now that they know our strength, they will never threaten us again. Instead..." Merigan held out a hand. After a moment's pause, the ogre took it, and pulled himself back to his feet. "...we will have peace."

  Loch and Kail were guests for the somewhat confused but still celebratory feast held in the village square. When it ended later that afternoon, they headed into the woods.

  "Okay, so I think I get it," Kail said as they found an animal trail and lost sight of Woodsedge. "The villagers aren't afraid anymore, because they think the ogres have been beaten."

  Loch noted several broken branches and followed the trail. "They'll probably get a fair amount of trade from the ogres as a result. Furs, rare herbs..."

  "Right. Meanwhile, the ogres all know that the fight was rigged—poorly."

  "Get over it, Kail."

  "So they're just happy the humans aren't going to burn down the whole forest."

  Loch paused, sniffed the air, and then pushed through the thick bushes ahead. "They also get access to fine metals through trade, along with a much better chance to hold onto their land, since the humans see them as trading partners and not savages."

  "Granted. So what does your magical friend get out of this?" Kail asked.

  "Two things." Loch spotted a clearing up ahead and pushed forward with a grin. "First, the woods she lives in and nurtures are free from conflict, and second... Did you notice that Merigan ducked out of the celebratory feast?"

  "Yeah, I figured that—whoah, hey, afternoon, there!"

  Merigan of Woodsedge lay on a bed of soft grass near a sparkling pond in the middle of a clearing. He was flushed, drowsy eyed, and about half dressed. "I'm sorry!" he said, pulling his pants up. "I was..."

  Loch smiled at Merigan. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mayor Merigan. The lady who was with you..."

  "I, um, er..." said the young mayor of Woodsedge.

  "Virgins, huh?" Kail asked. "So that's not just a myth?"

  "Be at peace," Loch said as Merigan finished dressing. "We're friends. I know that she spoke in your mind, and in your dreams."

  Merigan coughed. "She said that she had to leave, that our time together was precious, but she was as the last melting snow of winter, flowing away in the river of —"

  "Did she head off in any particular direction?" Kail asked. Merigan pointed.

  "Damn it, she should still be back there with him," Loch muttered as they hiked deeper into the woods. "She never leaves that quickly."

  "Well," Kail said behind her, "if it was Merigan's first time, it might not have taken that long."

  "Thank you, Kail."

  "That's the thing about guys that age. They can pretty much—"

  "Thank you, Kail." Loch found another small animal trail. "She couldn't have gotten far."

  "Broken branches over there," Kail added. "Big ones. Must be getting close to ogre territory. I hope they're still feeling peaceful."

  Then they came into a clearing, and both Loch and Kail were silent.

  Our time together was precious, said the pale ogre female with the glowing horn to the young ogre male who'd thrown the fight, but I am as the last melting snow of winter, flowing away in the river of spring. Loch heard the words clearly in her head, which was disconcerting.

  She'd take any distraction she could get at the moment, though, given that neither of the ogres were wearing a stitch of clothing.

  The young male ogre grunted something in response. Loch and Kail backed away.

  "So... also a virgin," Kail said after a moment, leaning against a tree.

  "I'm trying really hard not to think about it."

  "Weird how her voice just pops right into your head, though."

  "Definitely." Loch found a good place to sit. "From what I've read, the horn isn't really a solid bit of bone. It's magical energy. Did you see how it shimmered?"

  "Sorry, Captain, I couldn't see anything but naked ogre private bits."

  Loch sighed and went back to trying to get the image out of her head.

  A few minutes later, the unicorn trotted into the small clearing where they waited. The air shimmered around it, and a moment later, it was a small, slender woman with ash-blond hair and the same rainbow-shimmering horn set in her pale forehead.

  She saw Loch and gasped. "Little One!" Her horn shone in delight, and she pulled Loch into a warm hug.

  "It's Loch, for the moment," Loch muttered, hugging Ululenia back.

  "Little One?" Kail asked.

  "She did some work for my father," Loch said. "Helped make the river flow cleanly again."

  "Little One?"

  "We've got a job, Ululenia," Loch cut in. "We could use a shapeshifter, and I thought of you."

  "Whatever you did to Jerl's mind could be helpful, too," Kail added.

  "Does this job benefit the untamed realms of nature?" Ululenia asked.

  "It's going to pay really well," Kail said after a moment. "Well enough to buy a lot of nature for yourself."

  Ululenia frowned. "Is there any chance that young muscular virgins will be involved?"

  Loch's lips quirked into a grin. "I can probably arrange that."

  "Wonderful," Ululenia said with a warm smile, her rainbow horn flaring in the middle of her pale brow. "When do we start?"

  In the town of Ros-Aelafuir, a pair of scruffy men in nondescript clothing looked at the town jail, which had a large hole in one wall. The town's former sheriff was being held in the basement until the jail was repaired.

  "And nobody cleared it with the local contacts?"


  "Nope."

  Riffe exhaled slowly. He hated small towns. "Did you get a description?"

  "Yep." After a short silence, Ketch, the local contact, coughed and said, "Mousy girl and an Imperial fellow. They didn't register."

  A mousy girl and an Imperial. While that might be traceable, it didn't put Riffe in a good mood. "Can you give me anything else to take back to the boss?"

  There was a thoughtful pause. Or, Riffe suspected, simply a pause.

  "Mousy girl and the Imperial met up with a pair of Urujar outside town," Ketch finally added. "And the Urujar did register."

  "Perhaps," Riffe suggested slowly, "you could get me their names."

  "I could look," Ketch said grudgingly.

  "I'd really appreciate it," Rife said with infinite patience. Ketch stalked off, leaving Riffe to look at the hole in the wall.

  Jyelle had passed the word for regional directors to watch for a pair of Urujar right after the news of the Cleaners breakout had come around. She'd been furious. Evidently they'd crossed Jyelle a few years ago. Riffe tried not to think about such things. He prided himself on fast hands, keen eyes, and a complete disregard for matters worth killing people over.

  Riffe's keen eyes noticed something in the shadows near the wall. Dust from the wall's shattered frame skittered and sprayed whenever the wind blew, but in the dull afternoon light, it looked like the dust was billowing around something. Something that wasn't really there. Maybe magic.

  Jyelle didn't pay him enough for this. Rife stepped back, but the wind gusted again, and this time the dust billowed around something closer, a shape moving toward him.

  He turned to run.

  The blade went cleanly across his throat.

  Four

  Father Bertrus was surprised when the clergyman's weekly game of suf-gesuf picked up a new addition, but not disappointed. Sister Desidora was a pretty woman whose short-cropped auburn hair framed a cheerful face tanned from travel. Her olive-green robes were unadorned, but that was only prudent in these troubled times.