by Matt Rogers
Chapter 31: Cocktail Clause
The Journey (Lazy River)
The camels were correct; they did know the route to the Lazy River. The landscape changed in normal fashion, gradually replacing one dominant theme and incorporating bits of the next until before one knew it they were in a completely different environment.
“Ooh! What is that?”
“I have no idea!”
Brutus glanced to where the Midglings were gawking and became a little confused.
“What are you two looking at?”
They jumped a little because the barbarian was riding atop the camel behind theirs and it took them a bit by surprise. They overcame their natural inclination to go comatose because they’d finally become accustomed to mercenaries’ voices.
“That thing on the water” Stu responded.
Brutus again looked to where the little being pointed and sure enough, there was something on the water. It wasn’t a thing though.
“That?’ he asked by pointing.
“Uh-huh. Do you know what is it?”
Now, of course he knew what it was. Virtually everybody knew what it was but, in his defense, he hadn’t conversed a lot with Midglings before so couldn’t be held responsible for their actions.
“Duck.”
Flop.
The problem with Midglings wasn’t their personalities, bathing habits, language or any other myriad of distinctions which made one particular species an annoyance to others. No, the problem with Midglings was reactionary.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing, Sergeant, I swear on my mother’s grave I didn’t do anything!”
Midglings had survived the most brutal environments by learning to adapt. They would faint when encountering predators, faint when facing a weapon, faint at the mere mention of an Ogre and held one more fainting specialty in reserve; if they heard any kind of warning they would drop unconscious on the spot. When Brutus mentioned the bird’s name the Midglings reacted accordingly. The good part was they had become accommodated to Humpy’s hump so fainted without falling off.
“All right, little ones, it’s time to wake up.”
They arose to the sound of Brutus’ voice.
“Hey, guys, I’m really sorry. I had no idea you were afraid of ducks.”
He waited for them to faint again and was pleasantly surprised when they didn’t.
“Hey! You stayed upright!”
Stu was the first to speak.
“Uh-huh, yep, Mr. Brutus, we did. And do you know why?”
The enormous barbarian’s eyes opened a little wider because the Midgling appeared a little annoyed.
“Um… no?” he answered.
“Because that time you said ‘Ducks’!”
Brutus stepped back because they were on the ground after dismounting and stepping back was what people did when verbally assaulted by a three-foot individual who was then joined by another.
“What are you so angry about?” the barbarian asked perplexedly.
“Ducks is plural! Duck is singular! And it becomes a verb when in singular form you big lummox!” screamed Wort.
Brutus was then in full retreat mode, backing up as the Midglings closed the gap between them.
“And what’s with just the single word? Who the heck says ‘Duck’ when someone asks what a creature is? Have you never heard of putting an article in front of an individual species? How about “A duck’ or ‘It’s a duck’? Would that have been so hard?” Stu yelled with eyes squinting inquisitively.
“Hey, hey, hey! What are you two getting so excited about? I was only…”
The barbarian was under full frontal assault by the insulted Midglings and both Deadaim and Savage were witness to the event.
“Are you going to help him?”
“Nope. Are you?”
“Nope.”
So two of the deadliest mercenaries in any realm left another to the mercy of two Midglings irate about improper dictation choices.
“… and another thing! Don’t ever yell ‘Four’! I know it’s a number but it sounds the same as…!”
While Brutus stared in wide-eyed confusion as creatures he could stomp berated him unmercifully the other two walked around to get a feel for the area. They were at the edge of the Lazy River, the waterway which separated the Land of Lawlessness from the Wild Lands. There wasn’t a great distinction between the two realms except for the Overarchyng Law. One territory outlawed laws, the other merely enforced the ones in existence until they were deemed unnecessary due to the demise of whoever issued them.
“The place has improved.”
“Yes, it has.”
Both mercenaries were impressed because they, along with Brutus had been there before. Twice before. Under completely different circumstances heading in opposite directions. The three had arrived the first time when they left Blight’s army after defeating the upstart baron. Their ruse to pass Deadaim off as one of the Prince’s mercenaries worked so after receiving their pay for a war well done they decided to try the straight and narrow route.
“So this is the Lazy River.”
“Yep.”
“Why is it called lazy?”
“I think because the current runs slow.”
The three looked toward the water and, sure enough, it was barely moving. The river was about thirty yards wide, bluish-black in color and on the shoreline were an assortment of watercraft. Boats, canoes, pontoons, rafts and other floating devices were all beached, sitting idly while their captains, skippers, oarsmen or whatever they called themselves either napped in hammocks or played cards on the opposite bank.
“Hello!” Savage yelled across the river.
The response he received was the card-players looking up from their hands and then returning their eyes to the same places.
“Did they just snub me?”
“It appears they did.”
Savage was not accustomed to being ignored so tried again.
“Hello! We need passage across!”
The response was almost the same. No man moved even a fraction. It was not something the Sergeant could comprehend.
“Do you think they speak a different language?”
He asked the question to both but his eyes were on Deadaim.
“We’re on the Wild Lands’ shoreline. Over there is Lawlessness. This is not exactly a wide river. No, Sergeant, I don’t think they’re so far removed they speak a different language.”
Savage didn’t think so either. He thought he saw recognition when he yelled. They were close enough he could see their faces. When he’d asked for passage he was certain they’d heard him, only they then turned down their noses and resumed card-playing. People didn’t react that way if they didn’t understand something, they reacted differently when language was a barrier; they looked upon the other with confusion.
“Let me try” Brutus said.
“Go for it, Big Guy” Savage responded.
So Brutus cupped his hands around his mouth, took a giant breath and called across the water.
“Hey!”
The sound was thunderous, baritone and echoed for a good ten seconds. It was also completely ignored.
“You know, that’s pretty inhospitable.”
“Yep.”
Both Savage and Brutus were of one mind; they wanted to wring some necks for rudeness’ sake. They were both ascertaining whether they could cross the river by wading when they were afforded the opportunity to skip the wet-walking process.
“Let me give it a shot” Deadaim said.
“Sure, go ahead, but I don’t think you can yell any louder than…” Savage began to say.
Twang!
Then he stood still.
Thunk!
Until the arrow unleashed by the master archer somehow found a trajectory which sunk its metal tip into the center of the card table.
“Yaagh!”
And finally smiled as four previously immobile men suddenly found movement.
They were ushered across by three of the men in three separate boats with the fourth sailing at the standby in case, somehow, someway, any of the boats suddenly sprang a leak and dampened the mood of the man who could place a miniature, feathered spear into a deck of cards in the center of a playing table over a thirty yard span of water.
“Thanks for the lift. How much do we owe you?”
It obviously cost nothing as the men virtually scrambled to offer their wares free of charge.
“Where’s the liveliest town around?”
They were looking for their goldmine, the town with the moxie to make the most money. The answer was somewhat perplexing until realization sunk in as to nomenclature.
“Don’t know. I haven’t left this spot in…” one man began and paused in an attempt to recollect time.
They waited until it became apparent the man had either forgotten what he was searching his memory for or lost the question altogether. Savage then jumped in.
“Um… how long?”
The man looked at him confusingly and then suddenly his eyes opened wider.
“Oh, yeah! Let’s see… hmm…”
And again they waited as the man became confused or bored or indifferent or whatever. It was a little uncomfortable because the other three men standing there, the ones who’d been playing cards with the dumbfounded one were also standing around doing absolutely nothing. Brutus then decided to give it his own try.
“Does anyone else know a good gambling town around here?”
His voice was so deep it shook everyone out of their slumber.
“Uh-huh.”
“Yep.”
“Sure do.”
“Couldn’t forget it.”
And then they watched as the four card-playing river-crossers with advanced short-term memory-loss again went off into wonderland.
Brutus looked at Savage with questioning eyes, Savage returned the look with a shrug of his shoulders to indicate he had no idea what the problem was. Both thought they’d have a better chance finding a town if they just mounted the steeds they’d brought across the river. Once again, Deadaim encouraged the men to come to their senses.
Thunk!
“Yaagh!”
The four arrows quivering in the ground at the men’s feet did the trick in rapid succession.
“Death’s Valley!” they all yelled at the same time about one millisecond after their boots were almost sandalized in a very abrupt and painful manner.
After receiving the direction they set off in a quizzical state until Deadaim explained what he thought was the men’s problem.
“The Lazy River.”
Savage got it right away, Brutus needed a little more explanation.
“The water makes their minds lazy.”
So they left to find fame and fortune, bought a hotel, converted it into a gambling hall, forbade cheating, became enormously successful, stopped a cheat from doing what they forbade, got caught doing so, were threatened with steak-conversion and Orc consumption for breaking the law in a land without laws and found themselves again at the river separating two very different but eerily similar realms.
“Are they still playing cards?”
The men were indeed sitting around the table although playing might have been a bit too verbal for the action. They were staring. The mercenaries watched as the men sat there, looking at cards which had a very obvious layer of dust on them.
“Um… Deadaim?”
Thunk!
And again found themselves on the other side of the river where they took up the mercenary life once more, signed on with the Prince who commanded beasts and a treasure-trove of gold, laid siege to Mother Nature’s castle, learned Blight plotted their demise, tracked two who fled through the Breathtaking Forest, saved them from Trolls, watched camels grunt while a Midgling translated and finally arrived back at the river’s shoreline which had definitely seen some improvement.
“It looks like a hotel.”
“Yep.”
It was a two story structure sitting on the shore facing the water. It was big, painted white and had a porch. On the porch sat a table, around the table sat four men, holding cards.
“It can’t possibly be them be them, can it?”
They walked up the short flight of stairs and saw, yes, it was the same men. As they stood there, wondering how a hotel could possibly be sitting in a place so isolated it was only used as a river-crossing outpost, another man emerged through the swinging doors leading into the establishment.
“Hello, folks, welcome to the Fountain of Youth.”
The man had a balding head, red cheeks and a great white beard. He wore a red suit with white fur linings and appeared to be in his fifties. He was carrying a tray of drinks which he sat down in front of the men who seemingly were in a perpetual game of card-observation.
“Hello” Savage replied.
Deadaim merely nodded his hello.
“You all staying awhile?”
Savage was completely intrigued. It hadn’t been so long since they last visited and he couldn’t figure how a hotel could appear in such a short time.
“Um… no, we’re just passing through.”
The man looked up after setting the last glass down in front of a lazy poker-player, looked over the mercenaries with a gleam in his eye and appeared to reach a conclusion.
“Well, you can at least come in and have a drink.”
He then turned around before either could reply so they did what visitors were required to do when a host was gracious and followed. What they saw upon entering was astonishing. It was an enormous room, filled with wooden tables surrounded by chairs. In every chair sat a person. Savage did a quick estimate and surmised there were around sixty people in the establishment. The odd part, though, was the noise level; there was only a moaning.
“What would you gentlemen like?”
The man didn’t ask the question in a raised voice, there was no need, but when he spoke it thundered in the cavernous hall. So loud both Savage and Deadaim startled a bit for they weren’t prepared for the acoustics. As they did they noticed something else; quite a few of the other patrons in the place were also startled but in somewhat a different way. Instead of jerking in the normal manner they shrunk their heads between their shoulders, placed hands over ears and groaned.
“Um, I don’t know…?” Deadaim began.
Groan.
“… what do you suggest?” Savage finished.
Retch.
Deadaim watched the crowd cringe as Savage listened to the bartender with a strange cocktail menu begin reciting his cordials.
“I’ve got Cactus Juice…”
Moan.
“…Cactus Kicker…”
Dear God.
“… Cactus Cocktail…”
Get a bucket.
Whenever the man spoke the audience in the place sunk a little lower, became a bit more pale and stuffed a tad more fingertips into their ear-holes. Deadaim was about to say something when he was interrupted.
“Hey! There you are!”
Moan. Groan.
Brutus walked through the door followed by Stu and Wort who were wide-eyed in wonderful delight.
“Wow!”
Oh God.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, I was thinking the same thing!”
Kill me now.
“This must be a saloon!”
Where’s that bathroom.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, I think so too!”
I’m going to vomit.
They were slightly taken aback by the odd reception but Brutus, being who he was, ignored the ungracious welcome and strolled up to the bar like he owned the place.
“Hey, Sergeant, we got time for a drink?”
And, of course, a moan emerged.
“Well, I guess we have time for one but…”
Dear Lord above.
Brutus was of the northern climate. A climate with bitter winters and not so warm summers. His kind had learned to
adapt to their environment. An environment inhospitable to outside living for long stretches of time. No outside living meant inside living. Inside living meant close confinement with others. Close confinement brought about irritation. Irritation which could be soothed through certain liquid remedies.
“All right! Drinks all around! They’re on me!”
Yay!
The reaction was the complete opposite of everything which occurred before. People sat up, their eyes grew wider and lip-smacking could be heard throughout the room. Before long the place was roaring with laughter as everyone raised a glass to toast the wandering mercenaries who bought joy for the house.
“Sergeant?”
“Yes, Deadaim?”
The archer was not one for inebriated revelry.
“I believe we should be careful of the intoxicants.”
Savage was not one to let his guard down.
“I know. It’s why I’m drinking orange juice.”
Brutus, on the other hand, was an gigantic Human and thus relatively impervious to the liquid within normal limits.
“Brutus.”
“Yes, Sergeant?”
“Keep a clear head. We’re leaving as soon as the others lose theirs.”
The Sergeant and Deadaim had come to the idea relatively early in the imbibement process. They needed transportation down the river and were rather dubious they could talk any of the men who owned the watercraft to take time away from their life-long siestas. They therefore decided to relieve them of their ability to say ‘no’ and take one instead. They wouldn’t steal it, per se, merely borrow it for an unknown period of time until they were able to return it if they remembered where it was and were in the position to do so. They were also going to leave some gold for the rental. Both figured the odds of the money finding its way to the proper owner were somewhat iffy but it eased their minds so they decided to go ahead with the process. They were, thus, solely biding their time until the audience became drunk. All three mercenaries were aware of the plan and acted accordingly. The Midglings, though, were not and also acted accordingly.
“Hey, Stu?”
“Yes, Wort?”
“What are you drinking?”
“Cactus Coronary! What are you drinking?”
“Cactus Colada!”
Midglings were not unaware of alcoholic beverages, they were unaware of Human alcoholic beverages. In Middlesome the intoxication department had set proper percentages for Midgling consumption based on height, weight and overall tolerance. Not so on the top-side world.
“What’ll it be?” the greatest bartender in the only saloon on the Lazy River asked.
“Another” Stu slurred.
“I’ll have what he’s having” Wort slobbered.
And so within an hour of the first cocktails sliding down their throats the two from underground found themselves sitting on barstools watching the world go round.
“Whee!”
“Yippee!”
Until they realized the error of their ways.
“Whoa, that was stupid.”
“Uh-huh, a little dizzifying too.”
After they learned spinning around on barstools while partaking cacti inebriates was slightly disconcerting to their equilibriums they stopped and went back to the business of mind-numbing.
“Hey, Stu?”
“Yeah, Wort?”
“I love you, man!”
“I love you too, man!”
After declaring their Midgling love for another and gazing around at all the other drinking compatriots singing songs and generally having a rowdy good time they realized a problem.
“Hey, Barkeep!”
The old man turned, looked and wandered over.
“You two ready for another round?”
Belch.
“Yep!”
Burp.
“Now I am!”
As the time went by the regulars in the establishment began realizing things they had forgotten while recuperating from the night before.
“Hey! You still owe me a drink!”
“No I don’t! You owe me a drink!”
And so the two Midglings had a ring-side seat for the evening’s entertainment. There wasn’t much, actually, usually a few misplaced punches which would’ve done little damage if the contestants were in the right frame of mind but as it was, since they weren’t, whenever a single knuckle touched anywhere on face-flesh the recipient hit the floor like a bag of wet noodles.
Belch.
“Did you see that?”
Burp.
“See what”
Belch.
“Um, I forgot what we were talking about.”
Burp.
“Ha! So did I!”
Now, while the Midglings were amusing themselves with pickled brain juice the other three mercenaries were preparing for the journey ahead. They knew where the Midglings were going and felt they had a pretty good shot at exacting some revenge on Prince Blight if they helped the little beings. Brutus was wandering the room, talking to the patrons in an attempt to learn which water vehicle would be the best to borrow, Deadaim had gone outside to get a look at the various floating barges and Savage was talking with the proprietor to get his perspective on things. It turned out the man’s name was Santa Anna Banana Bonanza Crunchy Creamy Coconut.
“… but everyone just calls me Santa Clause.”
“Why?”
“Well, it’s a long story but I’ll try and give you the shortened version. You see, I previously ran a business catering to children. We had a toy store, some amusement rides and a nice little parlor where we made this brand new food called Brain-Freeze.”
“Brain-Freeze?”
“Yep, Brain-Freeze. It’s this creamy dairy product you mix with sugar and ice and everything nice and before you know it you’re gobbling it down so fast your brain locks up and gives you this splitting headache.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s painful all right. But let me tell you this; once you’ve had some Brain-Freeze you’ll happily take a splitting headache once in a while to taste the wonderful delight. It’s like paradise on the tongue!”
Savage himself wasn’t really interested in the man’s story but the guy seemed to be enjoying himself and had such good humor he decided to sit back and hear the tale.
“Anyway, business was booming and I needed some help so I hired a few Elfins to give me a hand. I would keep track of the books, take the orders and stuff while they built the toys, ran the rides and served the Brain-Freeze. Everything was running smoothly until I had the brilliant idea of incorporating my name into one of the products.”
As Savage listened he also kept an eye on the others in the room. They were all in various stages of misbehavior and he began wondering just what was in the cactus puree the bartender was serving.
“It was a huge hit! The children were lining up for miles to get some of the cool treat.”
“Huh?”
“The Banana-Bonanza-Crunchy-Creamy-Coconut-Freeze! It was the biggest thing to hit town since the local Sheriff returned from vacation and showed everyone bread could be sliced with a knife! Anyway, I thought I had the answer to wealth in my hands but, as with all endeavors, it ran into a snag.”
At the mention of wealth Savage’s interest peaked.
“What snag?”
“My distributers; the ones supplying me with the other flavors for my parlor business. When the Banana-Bonanza hit the market all their other product pretty much became obsolete. Well, they had a lot of income tied up in the other flavors and asked if I’d discontinue the Banana-Bonanza so they could reap a profit.”
“Did you?”
“Heck no! What do I care if they invested too heavily. I’m a forward kind of guy. You know, future thinking and all that kind of nonsense. So when they asked me to discontinue what was my best money-maker I told them to take a jump.”
Savage heard stories like it before so had a hint of what came next.
“They retaliated, didn’t they?”
“Yep.”
“How?”
“They went after my other business. They got to my Elfins.”
The story, like all successful business tales, came down to greed. Santa was greedy, his distributors were greedy and, as it turned out, the Elfins were also susceptible to the green lady’s charm. The distributors went to the Elfins and offered them a package they couldn’t refuse; a percentage of Santa’s business if they went on strike. It turned out Santa was over-leveraged. While his parlor business was more successful profit-wise it was also much cheaper to run. The toy-factory was not. It was an enormous facility with tools and storage which was rather expensive to maintain and, while profitable, it was also susceptible to market forces. If the Elfins went on strike Santa would not be able to pay the mortgage and, since his parlor business was part of his portfolio, if the toy-factory went under the creditors would take the parlor to recoup their losses.
“Why didn’t you just fire the Elfins and hire replacements?”
“Because of the business, my boy! Have you ever seen children’s toys?”
Now, of course, Savage had seen children’s toys but he wasn’t exactly an expert on the little wooden sculptures so went along with the man’s tale.
“Yes, what was the problem?”
“They’re amazingly difficult to produce! They’re so gosh darn tiny! Think about it. Imagine how hard it is to make a decent chair. Now, imagine whittling that piece of wood down one-hundred times the size and you get the finished product. Now, think about replicating that process a hundred times a month and that’s where the business model breaks down. Without the Elfins I couldn’t deliver the orders.”
“Why?”
“Their hands! They’ve got the perfect sized hands to make children’s toys. Human hands are much too big. So, there I was sitting on a gold mine but also looking at financial ruin.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, I’m a businessman so I looked at the writing on the wall, realized I had little to gain by fighting back but also wasn’t all too thrilled about being blackmailed out of my new-found taste creation so I struck a bargain; I told the Elfins they could buy me out with one condition.”
“The banana stuff?”
“Yep, the Banana-Bonanza-Crunchy-Creamy-Coconut-Freeze was mine. They could keep everything else but they could not have that.”
“And they agreed?”
“Well, yes, but there was an exception and that’s where my name came about.”
About that time the place was hopping, literally hopping, because someone pulled out a harmonica and the tune was such where hopping was part of the dance.
“What was the exception?”
“I could only sell it during one period of the year. The clause in the contract states the name Banana-Bonanza-Crunchy-Creamy-Coconut can only be used when my product is for sale. The rest of the time I must keep the name to myself.”
“And you agreed?”
“Heck yeah I agreed! Think it through. I didn’t need to deal with a bunch of strike-threatening Elfins, I could take the rest of the year off and, when the time came for me to reintroduce the incredible Brain-Freeze sensation, I had a ready market just waiting for me to make enough money to support myself the rest of the year until I did it again.”
“So it worked out for you.”
“Yep, it was a dream come true.”
Savage glanced around and the obvious question arose.
“So why are you here?”
Santa looked at him with humor and let out a jolly old belly laugh.
“Oh, well that’s a different story altogether. You see, I had quite a bit of time on my hands and I like to visit new places. Well, one time I decided to see Lawlessness so I set out and got to the other side of the Lazy River and do you know what I found?”
“Yep.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh, you found a bunch of card-playing river-ferriers who wouldn’t do their job and give you passage.”
“Exactly! So I swam across the river to give them a piece of my mind when all of a sudden this lone rider comes racing up on this horse of his. Now, I’m a pretty observant individual and I saw this rider was in somewhat a hurry, what with the posse on his tail and all that, so when he demanded my boat I told him I’d trade it for what was in his saddlebags.”
“Hold on.”
“What?” Santa asked with a knowing grin.
“Your boat? I thought you swam across.”
“I did. But he didn’t know that. So I thought I’d do a little business investing and get back at those lazy river-boat captains at the same time. When he asked for my boat I acted like I owned one, demanded his saddlebags in trade which he accepted and now I’m here.”
Something wasn’t quite right with the ending.
“Why would that mean you’re here?”
“Because of what was in those bags, my boy! There was gold! A bunch of gold! Well, to make a long story a medium one I invested the gold in this here hotel because I could see the potential of the place. I mean, the owner of the boat I sold to the running man never even questioned me on it. Go figure that! This place has such a draw to the people who drink the water they willingly let their lives slip away so long as they can get the sweet taste of the liquid. So I decided to make a tidy profit out of their misfortune. They give me their life-savings and in return I give them a line of credit serving cactus pulp mixed with river water. It’s a win-win all around! I get a place to hole up until I come out of retirement once a year to sell my Banana-Bonanza and when I do I have a house full of perfectly willing inhabitants who will sit numbly by until I return to deliver them their Fountain of Youth.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Fountain of Youth?”
“Yep, it’s why I gave this place its name.”
“I’m not following.”
“Think about it, my boy! Why are all these grown men hanging around a hotel acting like a bunch of moronic teenagers?”
“Because of the cactus concoctions?”
“Yep, they drink what comes out of my fountain and return to their youths; a bunch of self-absorbed, over-inflated, macho, wanna’ be tough guys. And for that they must pay for the privilege.”
Savage looked around and could very well imagine the fat man’s take. There were men of every age, every race and all had one thing in common; they were perfectly willing to give their money away for what the man in red was selling.
“How much are you pulling in?”
Santa glanced at him askew.
“Are you with the authorities?”
Savage was slightly taken aback.
“No, and by the way, there are no authorities. This is Lawlessness, remember?”
Santa’s eyes opened a bit wider.
“You know what? I keep forgetting that! Huh, you’d think after all this time I’d remember. Ah, well, to answer your question what I’m earning is kind of an up-front fee, sort of top-loaded if you know what I mean.”
Savage didn’t and said so.
“Well, the men in this room, all of them, give me what they have and I promise to keep their minds mushy until the end of time. So far, the end of time appears to be about two-hundred years from now.”
Savage wasn’t sure he heard correctly.
“Two hundred?”
“Yep. I know it sounds absurd but, with what I’ve earned and the price of river-water and cactus being what it is, I figure in two hundred years these men will have drunk me dry.”
Savage’s mouth was agape. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing but also wasn’t about to contradict a man who obviously had a rabid following and a business model for success. He was considering offering the man a partnership of sorts. He was thinking he could bring some of the more wealthy merchants he’d worked for and see if old Clause could get them to pony up their money and, in return, he’d receive a finder’s fee wh
en things went a different direction.
“Sergeant.”
“Yes, Deadaim?”
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The Elvin kind.”