Fixed.
“How?” Mulrox asked.
Silence.
He turned to Yahgurkin. “The grinders?”
Yahgurkin shook her head. “It was chaos when we came out of the cellar. They didn’t seem to know what to do. They didn’t attack us, but they didn’t seem happy either, but then that wave hit. That seemed to settle things for them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Mulrox was about to speak, but the squirrelmonk cut in.
“If you think all of you are going through that portal, you have another thing coming,” Rodenia said. She marched over to the portal and flung her arms wide in front of it. Behind her, Mulrox could still make out the town square, fluttering with streamers and lights.
“Don’t tempt me, rat,” Groxor said.
“I’m sorry. But absolutely not!” Rodenia said. “All of you crossing at once, so many things bleeding through to Veralby. The damage to the realms could be substantial. I absolutely forbid—”
Groxor snatched the squirrelmonk up by her tail and flung her over his shoulder.
“Enough blabber,” Groxor grumbled. “Unless you all want to be enslaved again, I suggest we get going.”
Groxor stepped through the portal and disappeared.
48
“I guess you finally found out what I was planning for the Beatific Behemoth,” Mulrox said.
Groxor snorted.
They were huddled outside the town square, crouched behind a stack of hay bales. The last remains of sunlight dipped behind the outline of huts, changing the sky from a pale pinkish orange into a soft purple gray. Mulrox stared miserably at the scene unfolding before them.
“It’s not what I would have done with the place, but it has its strong points,” Yvwi said.
It had taken some minutes to get organized. But they had managed to get across the border without a stampede.
“All of Ulgorprog must be here,” Yahgurkin said.
“Raggok too,” Groxor said. “I see my cousins. Of course they’re here. They probably think they’ll win this thing. They’re terrible braggarts.”
The town square was packed to the gills. For every ogre, there appeared to be at least three sheep. They were seated next to ogres, threading through the crowd, and a handful even appeared to be on patrol.
“The fact that there’s even this many sheep in Veralby is appalling,” Rodenia said.
“Are they all glamoured?” Mulrox asked.
Yvwi nodded. “Tabiyeh keeps herself busy. I’ll give her that.”
“Now I could probably take on most of them myself,” Groxor said. “But you know, to be sure, I was thinking another giant wave should do nicely. Go ahead, Mulrox.”
“A tidal wave would destroy Ulgorprog,” Rodenia said.
“We could just try it.”
“I’m afraid Tidal-wave stayed in Sounous,” Yvwi said. “She’s a bit cumbersome.”
“Fine, make another.”
“I can’t do that here,” Mulrox said. “Can I?”
“Tidal-wave’s not your average malcognito. How many years have you been dreaming of her? Even before you had her destroy the Vaccus, she was too big to fit through the portal.”
One of the patrol sheep was wandering closer to them, looking about suspiciously.
Yvwi hushed the others.
The sheep approached the bale, angrily chewing a bit of grass between its teeth.
“All spectators will show themselves,” the sheep baaed.
“Alright,” Groxor said, and before the others could stop him, he had leapt up over the hay bale and threw himself at the animal. There was a brief struggle, and then Groxor appeared, dragging the sheep behind him. He settled back down behind the bale, holding the animal in a headlock.
“Groxor,” Yahgurkin scolded.
“What?”
Applause rolled through the gathering, and Mulrox turned away from his companions. Five ogres, each with a torch in hand, stepped forward and kindled a series of bonfires, filling the stage with a dancing red glow.
Two figures moved downstage. As they drew nearer, Mulrox could make out Svenn’s face warped with concern, and behind him the looming figure of Great-Aunt Griselda. Svenn nodded to the crowd, then inched his way over to a chair at the side of the stage, leaving a glistening trail in his wake. Great-Aunt Griselda strode to the front and lifted a bullhorn to her lips.
“WELCOME OGRES!” she bellowed. The crowd roared back at her, and she waited until they quieted before starting again. “Tonight you will see the finest display of talent you have ever beheld. Ogre villages from far and wide have submitted their best and brightest to perform tonight in the most competitive, most prestigious, and most demanding competition ever held. THE BEATIFIC BEHEMOTH.”
Mulrox’s confidence withered.
“FIRST UP: TROLZOR.”
The crowd booed.
Out from the stage wings, Trolzor appeared, pushing a cart laden with covered trays. The old ogre did his best to ignore the noises, but he was hunched over in a gesture Mulrox was all too familiar with.
“Why are they booing?” Groxor demanded. “He hasn’t even done anything yet.”
“Maybe they can smell it,” Yvwi suggested. “Ogre food has a particular odor.”
Mulrox couldn’t believe how fragile Trolzor looked up on stage. Trolzor, the ogre whose chest was as wide as an ox, who owned the Slobber and Snore, who knew everyone in town.
“It’s Tabiyeh’s fault,” Yahgurkin said. “It has to be.”
“Do you see her?” Mulrox asked. “Or Geraldine?
No one answered.
Svenn had lurched up out of his chair and was sliding toward the front of the stage. “No booing!”
The grunts and jeers grew louder.
“I’m going to stop this competition if you keep booing!”
A cabbage flew up from the crowd and exploded on the stage next to him.
“No!” Svenn shouted.
For a moment, it looked like Svenn was going to leap into the crowd, but a group of sheep rushed onto the stage and encircled the slug. They pushed him back toward his seat where they stayed flocked about him in a menacing group.
Trolzor was trying to deflect the projectiles, deftly knocking them down with his one good arm. One of the tomatoes slipped through and exploded in a mess of seeds and goo all over his tunic. Mulrox could see the flush creep up over the old ogre’s face. Mulrox wanted to scream at the crowd, but before he could say or do anything, Trolzor had fled the stage.
“Trolzor has resigned from the competition,” Griselda yawned into the bullhorn.
“Is she planning to do that to everyone who enters?” Yahgurkin asked, looking appalled.
“If the tidal wave is out, what’s the plan here?” Groxor asked. “I told you my idea.”
Possibilities had been rolling through Mulrox’s head, but he hadn’t counted on the sheer size of the crowd. Tabiyeh would call her minions to her aid as soon as things got out of hand, and they’d be caught for sure. They had to do something about the glamour.
Mulrox looked down at the sheep held in the crook of Groxor’s green elbow. It was snorting and rolling its eyes, still kicking its hooves and trying to free itself from the ogre’s grip.
Something had been nagging at Mulrox since the moment of Tabiyeh’s escape, but he’d hardly had a moment to puzzle through it. The look Geraldine had given him in Sounous. It had been so direct, so familiar. And there had been a moment before when he could have sworn he saw something coming from Tabiyeh… but the others. When Tork or Groxor had had malcognitus, it simply wore off. Or had it?
It seemed impossible. Mulrox looked back out at the jeering crowd and shook his head. Nothing was impossible.
“Next up! Gerg and Irek of Raggok,” Griselda shouted.
“Of course they’re next. They’re the worst. I can’t believe I’m related to those two,” Groxor said.
“I have an idea,” Mulrox said. He�
�d spotted the malcognito he wanted and motioned him over. Mulrox whispered the plan, pointing at the sheep wedged under Groxor’s arm. “Are you up for this?”
Spit-on-him nodded enthusiastically. With one great windup, the malcognito rushed forward and hurled a great glob of saliva onto the writhing sheep.
“Hey, watch it,” Groxor snapped.
The sheep snarled, then shivered, its eyes rolling up in its head, then it stopped.
“You killed it,” Groxor said, sounding impressed.
A moment later, a pitiful bleat escaped it. Groxor loosened his grip on the sheep. It tilted its head to get a better look at the ogre and then stumbled to its feet. Mulrox could see clumps of mud in its wool and its chipped yellow teeth through its black lips.
“Not so pretty now, are you?” Rodenia smirked.
The sheep stared them with uncomprehending eyes.
Groxor lunged at it. “Get!” He clapped his hands.
The animal’s eyes doubled in size, and it bolted as fast as it could down the hill away from them.
Groxor sighed. “It worked.” He shook his head, grimacing. “Did it have to be so gross?”
“But how? It didn’t work last time,” Yahgurkin said.
“Last time Groxor had malcognitus.”
“But the sheep—”
“Was glamoured,” Mulrox finished.
“Oh! A malcognito can’t heal malcognitus, but a logosophilo can!” Yahgurkin said.
“Right. And with glamour, it takes a malcognito. It wasn’t me that got through to Tork. It was Death-with-a-kiss. Remember—she spit on her in the trap.”
“Aren’t we full of surprises!” Yvwi said.
Yahgurkin’s eyes lit up. “Yvwi, you got any saliva left?”
“Bucketfuls.”
“Leave the crowd to us,” Yahgurkin said. “But I’ll need the grinders too.”
“The grinders? What can they do?” Yvwi complained.
“Protect you,” Yahgurkin said.
“What about Tabiyeh? Who’s going to go after her?” Groxor said.
Mulrox swallowed. “I will.” He didn’t have a plan. Had no notion of how he would defeat her. He only knew that this was the way it had to be. “Make sure everyone stays back from her. We don’t need anyone else glamoured.”
Groxor looked like he was about to protest, but whatever he was going to say, he swallowed and extended his hand out to Mulrox instead. “Good luck,” Groxor said. “And remember what I taught you. No dithering.”
They shook hands. Mulrox turned to leave.
“Wait,” Yahgurkin said. “Here.” She pulled something from her pocket and handed it to Mulrox.
It was his notebook—the one Rodenia had taken. Mulrox shook his head, smiling. It had felt like the end of the world when the squirrelmonk had taken it from him, but he had hardly spared a thought for it since.
“I don’t think I need it anymore.”
“Maybe not. But take it. There’s some really great stuff in there. I marked a few passages.”
“You read it?”
She nodded. “And Mulrox, look.” She pointed up. In the darkening sky was the bright, full face of the moon. It hung low and large over the town square. “She’s come to repay her debt.” Yahgurkin smiled. “Now go get Geraldine!” She turned back to the cloud of malcognitos. “Are you ready?” she said.
“If by ready, you mean full of phlegm, then yes, yes we are!”
Yahgurkin and Groxor led the group of grinders and ideas back down the hill, where they huddled up as Yahgurkin explained her idea.
Mulrox tucked the notebook into his pocket. “Let’s hope I don’t get glamoured,” he mumbled to himself.
Resist.
It was Tork.
“I’ll try.” But Mulrox didn’t have much hope. He remembered all too well what had happened in Sounous. The glamour had worn off eventually, but he had lost all control.
Tork rushed forward and wrapped her legs around Mulrox, patting and pushing him all over.
Strong, she said. Then Tork too scuttled off after the others.
Mulrox was alone. He looked out at the sea of glamoured ogres, the town square done up like a child’s birthday cake, and Griselda, the fearsome legendary Griselda, made into the mouthpiece of his own most cherished idea. He still couldn’t believe this was happening. His dreams turned and twisted and brought to life. Tabiyeh had been telling him what would happen for months, but only now did he really understand.
She hadn’t revealed herself yet, but she would and then there would be no hiding. All of his work to fit in would be out the window. But he wasn’t alone. He had Yahgurkin and Geraldine and Yvwi and Tork and Death-with-a-kiss and all the others. He no longer had to hide. He took a deep breath and slipped out from behind the hay bales and into the throng of ogres.
The crowd was a writhing mass of emotion. Mulrox twisted and slipped through the gaps in the mob, dodging flying elbows and fists as the crowd jeered. The smell was overpowering––hundreds of underwashed ogres all jammed together in the warm evening air mixed with the scent of old cabbage, ox-bone tea, and the musky fragrance of livestock. His eyes watered. Mulrox was smaller than the average ogre, so he was trapped down beneath the fresh air, and that left only the occasional glimpse of the stage through the tightly jammed bodies. The sheep glared at him as he passed. One stomped his foot as another nipped his side. He made his way as best he could, navigating by the sounds from the stage.
“The oversized and emotionally stunted twins from Raggok have been disqualified,” Griselda called.
Mulrox pushed forward, following the sound of her gravelly voice. He was almost to the stage.
“Next up…” She paused. “MULROX!”
He braced himself. If they had thrown things at Svenn and Trolzor and howled at Groxor’s cousins, whatever they had planned for him would be unthinkable.
Despite his best efforts, Mulrox could not have prepared himself for what followed. A roar swelled up through the crowd. At first, Mulrox couldn’t make out what he was hearing—they weren’t booing or heckling.
The crowd was cheering. They were stamping their feet and whistling with excitement.
“Greetings.” The cold, silky voice cut across the crowd.
Mulrox shoved his way through the remaining ogres between him and the stage until he was standing in the front row.
Tabiyeh made her way across the stage, waving and bowing to the audience. She was in her true form, the ridiculous version of himself, wrapped in a cape and wearing a dozen medals swinging round his neck.
“Thank you,” she said. “Yes, hello. Thank you.” She waited for the applause to die down. “I am not Mulrox, as you can see, but I have come in his place. I am the absolute best idea you’ve ever heard, Mulrox’s greatest creation. Unfortunately, Mulrox has been detained.”
“I’m here!” Mulrox yelled.
Gasps of delight echoed from the crowd.
He got a running start, grabbed the edge of the stage, and pushed up. He floundered for a moment, kicking his legs, and then hauled himself onto the platform. He got to his feet and turned to face Tabiyeh.
“You came,” she said quietly. “Well, here they are, Mulrox. Your fans. Say something.”
Mulrox saw a dark mosaic of faces turned up toward him. Silence had settled over the crowd, but it was a full silence, strained, waiting. He was suddenly acutely aware of the heat from the bonfires and the warm night air, of every itch and twitch of his body. The crowd, hundreds of ogres, were waiting for him to say something. To do something.
“Hello,” Mulrox said.
The crowd exploded in wild applause. Applause for him.
“You understand now, don’t you?” Tabiyeh whispered. “This is what I wanted for you.”
Mulrox couldn’t say anything—he was mesmerized by the mass of adoring faces.
“Friends!” Tabiyeh addressed the crowd. “Thank you for coming today. We appreciate the work you all have put in. Look at this amazing st
age you’ve created. It’s proof of what we can do together. And this competition is only the start.”
More applause erupted from the crowd.
“No.” The words were quiet at first, so quiet Mulrox hardly knew he was speaking. “No, I won’t let you.”
Tabiyeh’s turned toward him. She reached out and put a hand on his arm.
Mulrox shook free. “This isn’t right. You can’t force people to like you.”
“I’m not making anyone do anything.” She turned to the crowd. “Am I?”
“This isn’t real. None of this is real.”
“Mulrox, that’s enough. It’s happening. Everything you ever wished for is here. Just take it.”
“No!”
Mulrox charged straight at Tabiyeh. He leapt at her, throwing his arms around her legs, and tackled her to the stage. Almost before he hit the ground, a posse of ogres were on him, pulling him off Tabiyeh. They held him down, pinning him to the stage.
Tabiyeh pushed to her feet and brushed the dust off her. She turned to Mulrox.
“You will look back at this and laugh.” She reached in a pouch by her side and threw a handful of the powder straight in Mulrox’s face. Then she turned to the ogres. “Leave him here.”
“It won’t work,” Mulrox said. But he could feel the warmth spreading, the tingling sensation rushing up his arms.
“It already has.”
“You can’t control what others think.” Mulrox was starting to slur his words.
“I can.”
“Eventually you’ll have to face that… thaa…” His lips locked up; his body went numb. It had happened again. He had tried and failed.
“What were you saying?” Tabiyeh asked, smiling.
Tork said he could resist it. That he could break free. He pushed and struggled.
Tabiyeh turned back to the crowd. “My ogres,” she said. “It is a great honor to stand before you—”
Somewhere out among the crowd, someone was shouting. “Boo!”
The other ogres stepped away, opening a hole in the crowd around the lone ogre. The figure was hazy in the perimeter lights, but Mulrox knew without a doubt that it could only be one person.
“Boo!” Yahgurkin screamed again.
Mulrox and the Malcognitos Page 31