by Griffith, KF
“Will the person who buys it still be able to use it to make wishes?”
“Nope,” he said. “There’s only enough magic for a single wish. That’s one of the reasons they’re so valuable.”
“So, you’re going to steal the trophy, steal the wish, and then cheat somebody out of their money?”
“That sounds about right.”
“I can’t do that!” I said. “That’s totally dishonest.”
“You have a better idea about how to get back to wherever it was you came from?” he asked. “Because if you do, I’d like to hear it.”
“And besides, it’ll be a lot easier than trying to win a match,” said Baerwald. “Most of the teams playing in the tournament will be way better than us. We’re thieves, not athletes.” He looked around the room. “Look at us. Do we look like we’re ready to compete in a major sporting event?”
He had a point. The room was filled with so many different kinds of ogres: there were short ones, tall ones, skinny ones, fat ones, lots of mean looking ones, and even a couple goofy looking ones. The only kind I didn’t see there was an ogre that looked athletic. They were all in pretty bad shape actually.
“Okay. I get it,” I said. “You want to take the easy route. But what if you get caught?”
“If we get caught, we go to the dungeons,” said Baerwald. “But we won’t get caught.” He looked around the room. “I can’t speak for anybody else in the room, but none of the bands of thieves that Elganbok and I have led has ever been caught.”
“He’s right,” said Brunda. “It’s part of their myth.” When she said the word myth she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
“Hey!” said Elganbok, offended. “We’ve got reputations to keep up.”
“So, all I’ve got to do is wait for you to steal the trophy and then make my wish?”
“That proves it,” said Elganbok. He threw his hands in the air. “This kid is definitely not a real ogre.”
“What did I say?”
“Every ogre knows that you don’t get a share of the spoils unless you do a share of the work,” said Baerwald. They all murmured their agreement.
“What? I’m not a thief,” I said. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life. And I’m not about to start now. What if I get caught? It’s bad enough that I have to be here at all. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a dungeon.” I was standing up now, waving my hands around as I spoke. “I would never be able to get home then. And, just so that we’re clear on this, I’m a human, not an ogre. Humans usually don’t steal.”
“Your options seem kind of limited,” said Baerwald.
“Yeah, not a lot of choices at this point,” Elganbok shrugged.
“We’ll make a real ogre out of you, yet, kid,” said Brunda. She clapped her hands together gleefully and spun towards her office. “Come on, it’s time to plan a heist.”
“And a strategy to fight the eviction,” added Baerwald.
“That too,” said Brunda over her shoulder.
I watched them all walk down the hall to Brunda’s office as I stood there thinking about the choice I had to make. It looked like I was going to have go totally ogre. Otherwise, I was stuck here forever. Not much of a choice really. If I ever wanted to be human again, I knew what I had to do.
PART II
THE HEIST
Chapter 8: B.O.R.I.A.L. HQ
I stood across the street from a massive building covered with rust stains and dripping water pipes. There were giant neon letters that spelled out the words Bureau Of Regulations Impediments And Legalities above the wide doors. The brackets that held the letters in place were rusted so badly that it looked like the letters would fall off if a strong gust of wind blew. The neon flickered and buzzed and cast creepy dancing shadows onto the sidewalk in front of the doors.
Even though it was late enough for it to be dark, the street was still packed. I stayed there for at least ten minutes watching the crowd flowing up and down the street. There were ogres of every kind going about their business; some of them were carrying boxes or sacks, some of them were pulling or pushing carts, some of them were driving little mechanical carts that were loaded with food or other supplies. There were even cars and trucks driving up and down the street. They looked kind of like the old jalopies that were around when my great-granddad was a kid. And despite the fact that the street was bustling, I never saw a single ogre enter the B.O.R.I.A.L. building.
Judging by how everyone crossed the street to avoid even walking on the sidewalk in front of the building, there was no doubt how much most ogres feared or disliked the B.O.R.I.A.L. As they passed, they kept glancing over at the building as if it were watching them. Even the ogres driving carts and vehicles kept a nervous eye on the building as they went by.
I was beginning to think that this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I needed to find out more about this strange new world, and from what I had learned back at the Flaming Goat, the B.O.R.I.A.L. people were the ones that had most of the answers. The fact that all the ogres went out of their way to avoid them – even their building – made me even more uneasy.
There was only one way to find out, though. So, I looked up and down the street, stepped off of the curb, and headed towards the big brass doors.
I weaved between the carts and the vehicles and stopped on the sidewalk directly in front of the building. There was no one near me; I stood there by myself in the blinking neon shadows, utterly alone with the street life bustling away behind me. I looked up past the neon letters towards the top of the building. I had to tilt my head so far back that I almost fell over backwards. The building seemed to go up and up forever. I looked around and saw that the traffic had stopped and the crowd had come to a standstill. They were all staring at me. An old ogre lady cried as she watched me, shaking her head from side to side. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled open one of the giant doors and stepped inside.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t standing alone in a giant-sized lobby. I had stepped into an enormous space that felt like a cross between a rundown bank and an abandoned cavern. It was obvious that there was no one in the room but me. There were chandeliers hanging from iron girders far above where I stood, but the ceiling was so high up beyond that that even the bright blue light shining from the dangling globes of the chandeliers couldn’t reach it.
Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs. It looked like they hadn’t had a customer in a long time.
“Hello?” I called out. “Anybody home?”
My voice echoed, and something small with leathery wings flapped around in the darkness above me.
I walked around and looked at everything. Along the left side of the room there were what looked like old-fashioned bank teller stations with ink bottles and quill pens placed on the counter tops. The right half of the room was filled with cubicles that had desks and chairs and pieces of machinery that looked kind of sinister. Not sure what those were for. Overall, it looked like an ogre version of a big government office, only without the workers. At the far end of the lobby was a set of tall double doors, and all along the walls, behind all the work stations and cubicles, were shelves completely covered with books.
I worked my way around the room and back to the entrance. I couldn’t stop my eyes from going up to the darkness above me. There were more wings flapping now, my presence was definitely bothering somebody . . . or something.
As I stood there taking in the room, I looked down on the table in front of me and found a small bell next to a sign that read: Ring for Assistance. I picked the bell up and wiggled it back and forth. It didn’t make a sound. I turned it over and looked up into the body of the bell. The ringer was rusted in place. Stuck. Not a lot of customers, apparently. I broke the ringer loose from the rust and gave the bell another shake. It didn’t really ring, it just kind of clinked. The sound made whatever it was that was flapping around in the darkness beyond the chandeliers pretty agitated.
I put the bell back dow
n and walked towards one of the bank teller stations, keeping my eyes on the shadows above me. The flapping became frenzied, and suddenly a series of booms and clatters and thumps thundered from behind the walls, like a factory full of machinery had been suddenly set in motion. The leather winged thingies above me scattered in every direction, flapping frantically.
The huge metal doors at the far end of the lobby clanked and creaked open slowly. For a moment the doorway stood empty. And then a timid looking ogre peeked out from behind the door and blinked his eyes. He turned back and spoke over his shoulder to someone I couldn’t see. “Someone is in the lobby. I think it’s a . . . customer.” He sounded puzzled.
He looked back at me and hesitated, like he was trying to figure out what to do next. Whoever it was that was behind him gave him a little push that bumped him out beyond the protection of the doors. He flapped his hands in front of himself for a second before calming himself down. He smoothed out his robe, looked back over his shoulder, and whispered loudly, “Alright! Alright! I’ll ask him.”
I waved at him from my side of the hall, just to let him know that I came in peace.
That really seemed to confuse him. “He’s waving at me!” he said over his shoulder. “Yes, I said waving.”
He was leaning back with his ear tilted towards the doorway behind him, listening to someone. He threw both hands up in the air and blurted, “Why don’t you just come out here and see for yourself. He obviously knows you’re there.”
“Yup. I know you’re there,” I said loudly. I waved again.
From out of the shadows behind the door came a squat little ogre wearing oversized spectacles. She pushed them up on her nose and waddled over to stand next to the first ogre. They took turns looking at me and then each other and then at me again.
“I get the idea that you guys don’t get a lot of customers,” I said. They looked at each other again, and then at me.
“No, not really,” said the taller ogre.
“Haven’t had one since . . .” the smaller ogre paused and put her fingertip on her lip.
“We could check the records,” said the taller ogre.
“Now, that’s an idea!” said the smaller one. They headed towards the wall behind the cubicles. “I can hold the ladder while you retrieve the proper volume,” she added.
“If I remember correctly, I had to go up last time, I believe it’s your turn, old girl,” said the taller ogre.
“Ah! I’m not sure your memory is what it used to be . . .” said the smaller ogre.
“Hey, guys. I hate to break up your research party, but you have a customer standing over here.” I waved at them one more time. “I’m just trying to get a little customer service action. Can you help an ogre out?”
They exchanged a look and nodded. “He has a point,” said the taller ogre.
“He does,” said the smaller ogre.
The taller ogre moved in the direction of the bank teller stations. “If you’ll step over here to one of our service counters, we’ll be able to provide you with the proper forms to . . .”
“I just have a couple of questions,” I said. “Can I just ask you instead of filling out the forms? I’ve heard about your forms. Maybe there’s a connection between your forms and there not being any customers in here.” I looked around at all the emptiness.
“How will we keep track of all the data if we don’t fill out the paperwork?” asked the smaller ogre.
“How will you keep track of all the data?” I asked. “It doesn’t look to me like you should have a whole lot of trouble keeping track of it. It’s just me! How hard will that be to keep track of?”
“Again, he has a point,” said the taller ogre.
“I suppose he does,” said the smaller ogre. “And we could always fill in the forms ourselves after he asks us his questions. Just to avoid any potential problem.” She looked hopefully at the taller ogre.
“You’re right. It probably wouldn’t hurt for us to make sure the paperwork is done. Just to cover our own backsides,” said the taller ogre.
They both nodded.
“Great!” I said. “So, I know you guys are in charge of making and keeping the rules and all that legal type stuff, right? I mean, it’s in your organization’s title, right? Do you guys keep all of the records, too? The historical stuff? Like, if there was a record of someone coming here from someplace else, you’d have a record of that, right?”
“From someplace else?” the taller ogre said. “Do you mean from outside of Slimewater? From outside of Under Grunting, perhaps? Or do you mean from outside of Ogretonia?”
“I mean from way outside Ogretonia,” I said. “From someplace else entirely.”
“Well, as you know, outside of Ogretonia lies the rest of our world, Monstralium itself,” said the taller ogre.
“So, if you mean from outside of that, from outside of Monstralium, well, then you’re mad,” said the smaller ogre. “Monstralium is our world. How could you come from outside of our world?”
The smaller ogre looked at the taller ogre. “Do you think he’s mad?” She was talking to him like I wasn’t even there.
“No, I don’t think he’s mad,” said the taller ogre. “He does seem a bit confused, though.”
“I am confused,” I said. “I’m really confused. I have no idea how I got here – I’m from someplace else, someplace that’s not Monstralium. Really.” They both looked puzzled.
“Yeah, I know that sounds crazy. But it’s true. I’m not even an ogre.” I watched their expressions change from curiosity to confusion. “I can tell you my whole story, but afterwards, can you at least take a shot at answering my questions? Please?”
“He sounds sincere,” said the smaller ogre.
“He does,” said the taller ogre.
Chapter 9: Going Up, Going Down
The two ogres – the taller one and the shorter one – were named Slipknock and Grelda.
They took me through the giant doors at the far side of the lobby and down a long hallway to a set of elevators. The elevators looked like big birdcages that were raised and lowered by long rusty chains. As we stood there, I leaned out to watch the birdcages sliding up and down above us. As they moved, the chains clanked and scraped, and from far above I could hear pulleys and gears creaking.
When the cages stopped at a floor to let the ogres off and on, they swayed freely from side to side and back and forth, bumping into each other and clanging like old, dead church bells.
“Are those things even safe?” I asked.
“Perfectly,” said Grelda. “As long as you don’t move around too much once when you get in.”
“And if the cage is swinging when you’re trying to get in it, wait,” said Slipknock. “Always wait.”
“That’s right,” said Grelda. “Take your time and wait for the cage to stop swinging. Better safe than sorry!”
They laughed together like they were sharing a joke.
One of the cages dropped down slowly and came to a stop directly in front of us. I looked down the elevator shaft through the gap between the ledge where we stood and the floor of the cage. I could see light shining from the floors below us, but I couldn’t see the bottom of the shaft. The lights disappeared into darkness. The two ogres stepped into the cage so gracefully that it barely swung at all. Despite trying to be as careful as possible, as soon as I stepped into the cage it started to swing, causing me to grip the bars tightly so I wouldn’t fall out.
“How far down does that go?” I nodded my head at the empty elevator shaft below.
“One hundred thirty-seven floors,” said Slipknock.
Grelda pulled the cage door closed behind us and locked it. She turned a knob and flipped a switch, and the cage jerked, jumped, and began to rise slowly. The chain rattled and creaked above us as we ascended.
The ride up was slow enough that I had time to tell them my story before we reached our floor. They both looked skeptical when I was finished.
“I’ve ne
ver heard anything like that,” said Slipknock. His eyes looked dreamy.
“I find it hard to believe,” said Grelda. “Impossible to believe, actually. But it doesn’t sound like you’re lying. Why would somebody make a story like that up?” She took off her glasses and polished them absentmindedly.
“Other worlds outside of our own aren’t exactly impossible . . . theoretically, at least,” said Slipknock.
“No, of course not,” said Grelda. “But don’t you think we’d know about these other worlds if they existed?”
“Unless it’s top secret,” said Slipknock, shrugging his shoulders.
Grelda flipped the switch and turned the knob that she’d used to make the elevator rise. The cage stopped so suddenly that it jerked violently and began to swing and bob. We were tossed around inside the cage as it banged against the wall of the elevator shaft. The two ogres managed to position themselves in the cage so that the swinging stopped almost as quickly as it began.
They stared across the cage at each other without saying a word.
“What?” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Have you told anyone else from B.O. R. I. A. L. your story?” asked Slipknock.
“The only people I’ve told are from the Flaming Goat,” I said. “It’s a tavern in Slimewater Flats.”
As we stood there talking, one of the other nearby chains dangling in the elevator shaft began to move. It clinked upwards, and Grelda pushed me down.
“Someone’s coming! Get down,” she said. “Get under Slipknock’s robe.” She pushed my head down as Slipknock lifted up the bottom of his robe.
“What is it with you ogres hiding me under your clothes?”
“If you’re involved in something top secret, it would be best if we kept it top secret,” she said. I could hear the other elevator cage draw up beside us and grind to a stop.
“Everything all right?” a new ogre asked.
“Absolutely,” said Grelda. “We were just on our way up to the Records Room when Slipknock realized he left his pen in the lobby.”