Grump & Rose

  "Too bad for the world." He eyed the goblin suspiciously. "Why'd you bring me here?"

  "Who knows if it's gonna make a boom or a pop or crack? It might sparkle. Don't want to bring all those fair folk down on us, do we?"

  "What in the hells are you talking about? I don't like the sound of this."

  Boil shoved his hand deep in his pocket. He yanked out a pouch the deep crimson of blood, tied by a delicate gold thread. "Obviously we can't just go marching in there like we own the place. The wizard told me if I ever needed a disguise, that this would do the trick."

  Grump reared back. He imagined black tentacles leaping from the bag, sucking him into a void alongside Rahl for eternity. "Can't we do this without magic? There's got to be a way. I don't ... I'm not too keen on using mojo on myself."

  "Suit yourself. I'll just use the disguise and take Rose to the healer. You can stay here and, I dunno, fart in the dark or plant seeds or something."

  "You're most definitely not taking her out of my sight."

  "Then you'll need to use some powder. C'mon, it's not going to be that bad. Was the necklace that—"

  "Yes. And don't ask."

  Boil's pointy ears drooped. "I really wanted to see what it did." His ears straightened, and his smile reassumed its position high on his cheeks. "If you're afraid, I'll test the powder first."

  "I'm not afraid, but go ahead and test it, just to make sure it's good enough to fool a human."

  "Right. Sure." Boil rolled his eyes and unfastened the pouch. He poured fine black grains into his palm and held the pile to the moonlight. It glittered like obsidian shards and reflected in the round pools of his ruby eyes.

  "What now?" Grump asked, stepping back.

  Boil closed his eyes and tightened his fist around the powder. "Here goes nothing."

  He scampered deeper into the barn, Grump slowly trailing. The greenskin tossed the powder at his feet. A plume of hissing smoke swirled like a whirlwind around his form. Black and grey winds braided one another as they danced around his body. The whirlwind grew. It accelerated. Grump shielded Rose with one arm and covered his face with the other.

  Frigid light cracked the air, and the wind vanished. Grump lowered his arm and blinked the harsh light lingering in his vision. Where a goblin once stood, now a young boy occupied the space. The human's round, soft cheeks curtained thin lips and a crooked smile. Wide, hazel eyes peered from beneath a ragged mop of ruddy hair. Boil's ashen tunic was now oversized and bound by a frayed rope. He wore patchwork breeches rolled to the knee and a pair of boots that had seen better days. A pink toe wriggled from the hole in his left boot. He raised his hands giggled at peachy fingers poking through fingerless gloves.

  "Emperor, I've turned into a human! How gross is that?" Boil danced in a circle and flapped his arms like a fat goose. "It's so weird! It feels so different!"

  "It looks so ... real. You'd fool me." Grump sniffed, then turned and waved a hand before his nose. "You even stink like them."

  Boil smelled an armpit and grimaced. "Ew, you're right. Hopefully the stink fades when the look does. Ready to give it a whirl?"

  "It doesn't hurt?"

  "Not one bit!"

  "What do I do?"

  "Close your eyes." Boil eagerly edged toward him, dumping the last of the powder in his hand. "That's all you gotta do."

  Grump swallowed, rocking on his heels. He clenched and unclenched his fists, then nodded. "Okay, let's do this."

  He closed his eyes and waited. Boil's breath whooshed over Grump's cheeks. Tingling grains drifted over his shoulders. Whirling winds encased him, electrifying the air. Warmth washed over his body, then a deep, terrifying chill. The magic seeped into his bones. Grump shuddered, and the air cracked.

  "All done!" Boil squealed. "Oh boy. That's a great disguise."

  Grump opened his eyes. He looked down, and his jaw dropped. "Boil, I'm gonna kill you!"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Alberlilly

  "Was this supposed to be funny, you sneaky little pipsqueak?" Grump snarled.

  Boil, who thanks to the wizard's powder looked like a human boy, swallowed his snort and wrestled with the grin wriggling on his lips. "But you look so convincing!"

  Grump plucked his shovel up and hurled it across the barn. The goblin spun beneath it, and the blade clanged against the wall instead of the greenskin's skull.

  Boil danced onto a pyramid of hay and flipped onto the rafters, just barely avoiding Grump's furious swipe. The goblin scowled from the dark ceiling and hopped out of reach one, two, three more strikes before Grump paused for a breath.

  "It's not my fault," Boil said. "I just thought of disguising you as a human. That was the first thing that popped into my head!"

  Grump growled and planted his fists on his hips. "You have a sick head, greenskin!"

  He stomped outside and raced to a deep puddle near the fence. After a slow, calming breath, he bent over and inspected his new body.

  His wide cheeks and wide brow framed two soft, human eyes. His thick lips upturned slightly in a smile even when he tried to keep them flat. A huge braid hung over his shoulder and nearly dipped into the dirty water. An ashen dress covered him neck to toes. Over that hung an apron tied tightly around his swollen belly, upon which his enormous bosom now rested.

  Grump sighed, prodding his puffy cheeks with pudgy fingers. Those fingers drifted to his breasts. He poked one, and then the other. He inhaled and shook his shoulders. I'm going to murder that goblin. Just murder him, here and now.

  "Oh, come on," Boil said. "It's a great disguise. You really look a human lady! I mean, you're a big one, but it's really—really—convincing."

  Grump whipped around just in time to catch Boil wiping off his grin. He frowned at the greenskin, jabbing a finger at Boil. "You did this on purpose. I know you did."

  "Hardly." Boil pivoted with a bow, swinging his arm toward town. "Alberlilly is ready to receive you, Lady Grump."

  Grump stormed past Boil and swung his hip, knocking the goblin into wet grass. Boil squealed, and Grump harrumphed.

  Inside the barn, he carefully pulled Rose from her satchel and hid both the bag and his shovel under the driest hay he could find. Grump lifted Rose to his lips. "Don't worry, it's just me under this ugly mug."

  He pecked her brow and rejoined Boil in the quiet night. The greenskin brushed wet grass from his rump and bounded over the fence. He landed spryly in the mud and waited for Grump to catch up.

  "How long does this mojo last?" Grump asked, trudging after the goblin.

  "No idea, so we better be quick about it. And let me do the talking, okay? You still sound like a troll."

  Mud slurped and gurgled underfoot. The moon melted behind clouds that rumbled thunder in their bellies. Light drizzle sifted through the trees, wetting Grump's lips and weighing his long, human lashes.

  The ghostly lights of Alberlilly appeared through the fog. A few moments later, Grump and Boil came to a high wall of wooden timbers carved to rough points. Two squat guardhouses separated the wall, between which an archway holding an iron gate barricaded the city from the marshes. Atop the wall, Grump caught the bobbing lanterns of patrolmen. He clenched his jaw and did his best to keep his blood from boiling at the sight of men. Each one of them wore the face of the man he hated, the villain who turned his good garden to ash.

  At the gate, a guard reclined against a post. A rusted halberd leaned on his shoulder and dripped condensation into the slick mud. Another guard sat on his helmet beside the man and sharpened a rust-spotted hunting knife. Both humans wore leathers draped with chain. Moisture hung in glassy pearls from their beards, and their eyes were lost beneath the shadow of their thick brows.

  Grump and Boil paused just before the torchlight revealed them. Boil looked to Grump and winked. "We've got this, buddy."

  He readjusted Rose and nodded sharply. "We've got this."

  They stepped into the light. The guard with the halberd focused on them, slowly at first
. He blinked and leaned forward, his eyes growing wider. The halberd nearly crashed into the mud, but he caught it at the last moment and stumbled forward. "Halt! Who goes there?"

  The guard sitting vaulted upright. He kicked his helmet down the path, and it rolled in the mud before stopping at Boil's feet. Boil picked up the helmet and flicked some of the mud dripping from its rim. "Hail, good men of Alberlilly. We're merely travelers on the marsh roads, looking for aid in our time o' need."

  He handed the helmet to the guard, who ripped it from Boil's human hands and shoved it on his head. The man glowered at Boil, then scrutinized Grump and Rose. "We've not seen the likes of you around town. What're you folks doing in the marshes at night? Ain't no place for a boy, a wet-nurse, an' that babe."

  Boil shifted on his feet and plastered on a smile. "True, my good man, and we wouldn't have if we could've avoided the hardship. But my little sister's sick and Pa told us to seek a healer, and we heard the best in the marshes is right here in Alberlilly."

  The guard with the halberd joined his companion. "Where're you from that you'd know old Kole?"

  "Back toward the Ridge," Boil said.

  Grump nodded, trying his best to smile like a human. The guard cringed and readjusted his halberd, leaning to his companion. "She's a looker, Rowland, ain't she?"

  Rowland nodded and slipped his hunting knife into it sheath. "Definitely not a city girl, Mayer." His gaze drifted back to Rose. "Where abouts the foothills are you from?"

  Boil stepped forward, clearing his throat. "My nan doesn't speak. She got the boil blight when she was young. Never spoke a word since. Boil's taken her tongue right from her."

  Grump frowned. The guards stepped back. Rowland's hand went to his knife, lingering on the hilt. "Boil blight? Sounds nasty."

  "Looks even worse!" Boil squeaked.

  Grump's frown deepened. Rowland nudged Mayer. "There's not much east of here but the wilds leadin' to the Ridge, and ain't no poor farming folk farther east than this city. It's a no man's land. Too close to those bloody mountain demons and soil's too rotten for crops. Somethin' about this smells like wyvern shit if you ask me."

  "Sure smells rotten to me, too," Mayer agreed, pressing his lip into a thin line. A sticky silence settled on the group.

  "I think I've figured it out," Rowland said, his eyes narrowing, fingers flexing on the dagger's hilt.

  Grump tensed. He squeezed Rose tight against him. Mayer arched a brow. "And what's the truth of it, Rowland?"

  "They show up at our gates lookin' all filthy and stinking to the high heavens. They're sick, and at least the boy looks half-starved. They're from Fort Harlin, no doubt refugees. I knew it was only a matter of time before the war reached us. Tell us true, strangers, has the war come to the marshes?"

  Boil scratched the back of his head. He looked west into the forest and back at the guards. "Well...."

  Grump stepped forward and nodded. The guards traded glances, their suspicion traded for anxious fear. Mayer spat and muttered a curse. "I knew it would. They all told me I was crazy thinkin' Vosh and Wren would start sucking in the free cities in their stupid war over the Winding Road. But I wasn't. I knew it! There's a reason the horde stopped attacking. I bet their shamans saw this coming, and they're holed up in their mountain dens building up their numbers. Gods be damned, Rowland, we'll have greenskins at our backs and a bunch of swords at our bellies. What're we to do?"

  "The greenskins have disappeared?" Boil asked, glancing worriedly at Grump.

  "Aye," Rowland said, tapping his knife handle. He stroked his beard, and little beads of moisture fell onto his boots. "A few months ago they stopped harassing our folk. Miners haven't heard a single goblin drum or orc roar for a spell or two now. A few hunters have even gone pretty deep into Old Carrika and come out with nary a sign of the nasty buggers. Seems all we've got to worry about is a few hauntings, but ghosts have never been the worst things plaguing us in these woods. To tell you truthfully, I'd rather face a wraith than the hungry eyes of an orc any day."

  "That's because you've never faced a wraith," Mayer quipped.

  Boil cleared his throat, silencing the two men. "The healer in Fort Harlin's dead, and I'm not fibbing about my sis. She is real sick. Feel her fever ... if you think it's safe."

  The guards looked at one another and took another back. They peeled apart and motioned inside.

  "Welcome to Alberlilly," Rowland said. "This is a free city, and we're not liable to bar the likes of you from it. They pay us to keep the greenskins out, and it's clear you're not their kin."

  "Kole Verillion is the one you want," Mayer said. "He's an old bastard and blind as a bat staring at the sun, but he's a good healer. He'll know what ails your sis, and he'll know how to cure it. You'll pass an old well a ways down the road. Turn left there. He's three houses down and grows a right decent herb garden. Can't miss the home or the garden's smell."

  "Thank you!" Boil skipped past them and danced through the gate.

  Grump flashed his own smile and waddled toward the entrance. Rowland slapped him hard on his rump, licking his lips.

  Grump paused. He narrowed his eyes and growled, the deep rumble rolling from his throat like thunder.

  The color drained from Rowland's face. The guard stumbled backward, nearly tripping on his own feet. "My apologies. Good evening, kind ma'am."

  Grump turned away, lifting his chin and marching into Alberlilly like snowy royalty. As soon as they were a safe distance beyond the gates, Boil turned to him and grinned. "Now how was that for masterful? We're dyed-in-the-wool rogues now, aren't we?"

  "You're stupid." Grump cracked a smile and shrugged. "But that was fun. I wish I could've talked some. Maybe played with them a bit."

  Boil humphed and leaned back. Grump's smile spread. "You did do a good enough job on your own."

  "We're practically even from you saving me from the haunts. This is basically the same situation."

  "What I did in the Ridge was just slightly more dangerous than you chit-chatting with two guards who have about as much wit as a spotted bog slug. And that's saying a lot, coming from a troll."

  "Let's just agree it's all a matter of perspective, okay?"

  They reached an old well ringed by deep, sloppy mud. Boil rounded the corner in the road first and clapped his hands. "There it is!"

  "Thank the ancestors," Grump sighed. He wiped drizzle from Rose's cheeks and followed his companion down the slick road. Rolling thunder punctuated the quiet night. Despite the threat of a storm, the grumbling skies soothed his nerves, trapped as he was in this maze of wood and mud and human stink.

  So much of this wet, cramped town reminded him of the swamp. Plant a few blackwoods here and there, and it would be a regular troll hamlet in no time. Drape a few bones from the windows, hang some furs and throw some filth, and his kin might even prefer it.

  A shoddy fence walled Kole Verillion's home from the sloppy road and dripping, moss-covered walls of the rest of Alberlilly. His home was a sloping triangle with a thatched roof and a stone chimney. Grasses grew atop the roof, and ivy clung to the leaning chimney's neck. Beside the building, a garden of herbs and vegetables sprouted in neat rows, fanning great leaves beaded with the sky's persistent drizzle.

  Tiny blossoms of lavender, ivory, and citrine gave vibrancy to the green. Soil dark as molasses peeked from beneath the plants, hinting to the rich loam that anchored them to the earth.

  Memories of Farlain swept over him like a river breaking a dam. Kole's home was Teacher's, his garden hers. The canyon. The croaking frogs and bubbling stream. The rich coriander seasoning the breeze. Long nights spent brewing stews and puffing on fresh thimbleweed while they laughed beneath a sky of joyful diamonds.

  "Grump?"

  Boil's voice shattered the dream like clay beneath an iron hammer. Grump blinked and turned from the plants, readjusting Rose on his arm. "Let's get this over with. I don't like this place."

  Boil nodded. He wiped sopping hair from his pale br
ow and bounded inside. Grump followed more slowly, dipping beneath the grassy overhang and squeezing through the open door.

  Inside, herbs dangled from crisscrossed lines. Others hung like lazy tongues from shelves or peeked from drawers like impish fingers. Thick candles half-melted cast warm light across walls adorned with odd trinkets and utensils.

  A single table occupied the home's center. Over it, bottles blue and grey and milky white littered every conceivable space. Some tall, some short, some wide, some round, they populated the surface like rigid mushrooms on a forest floor. Just beside the table, a cooking fire popped and crackled from its hearth, the fire's tongues hissing with the intermittent droplets that made their way down the chimney's throat.

  Before the fire, a man slouched in a chair that swallowed him. His curly beard flowed like an avalanche over the swollen melon of his stomach. What remained of his hair grew mostly from his brows, ears, and the wheezing caverns of his nostrils. The reddened, knobby worms of his fingers twitched on his belly as he muttered incomprehensibly between his croaking breaths. Grump and Boil looked at one another, then back at the man sleeping in his chair.

  "What do we do?" Grump whispered.

  Boil shrugged. He leaned over to the man and flicked his ear. The human lurched forward and crashed to his knees, falling face first toward the flames.

  Instinct uncoiled Grump's arm. He lashed out and grabbed the healer's sweaty collar, ripping him back into the seat with such force the chair skidded back and smacked the table behind it. Bottles clinked and clattered together. One fell, but thankfully didn't break. Boil picked it up, grinning sheepishly as he placed it back onto the table.

  The man coughed and snorted, wiping the back of his hand across his nose. He blinked two watery eyes rimmed with red and pivoted to Grump and Boil. "Who's that now?"

  Boil cleared his throat and took a bow. "My nan and I are lookin' for the healer of Alberlilly. Are you the one they call Kole?"

  He lifted his chin, staring down a bulbous nose at Boil. "I am Kole Verillion. Who're you?"