Then I spotted them off to the side, surrounded by at least a dozen of Jessup’s people. Gormless raised someone over his head, and I stared open mouthed as he threw the man into the mass of thugs, bowling them over. Grim got entangled among them, but I saw his fists moving in a blur as he fought his way clear. Yeah, they were pretty busy.
My attackers converged, and I raised my cane, ready to unsheathe the blade if I had to. I’ve never shed blood before, and I didn’t want to start now, but unless Grim and Gormless hurried up, I’d be forced to.
I thumped the first one who got within range in the head, but the other four managed to encircle me. A blade flicked. I dodged, but it nicked my elbow. The sting of an open wound in air made me hiss, as I pulled off the cover on my cane and revealed the Ashur’s vicious-looking serrated steel. A few eyes widened. Maybe they’d be smart and leave before I had to hurt them.
A second later, I realized it wasn’t my weapon that made the thugs hesitate. The ground beneath my feet vibrated as the grall thundered down on us.
He threw one man farther than Gormless had. Another one he smashed to the ground with a single blow. I didn’t know if the guy was concussed or dead, but he was sure shorter. The others scattered like mice pursued into a wheat field by a saber-toothed cat.
“Leave the nice lady alone,” Jorg shouted after them.
Blood trickled warmly over my arm and dripped to the ground. The grall tore a filthy strip of cloth from his already too short pants and wrapped it around the wound. He cinched it tightly, and I gasped.
“Sorry.” He loosened the bandage. “You people are so small, it’s hard not to hurt you.”
“I thought you wanted to be a merchant and didn’t like violence?”
“Men who hurt girls and butterflies make me mad,” he said. I didn’t like being called a girl, but Jorg could call me anything he wanted after saving my life.
“Thank you.”
He shuffled his feet with embarrassment. He was so heavy each movement made the pebbles in the grooves of the cobbles bounce around.
Randall hurried over to us, huffing and puffing, and checked the thug on the ground. “Dead.”
Jorg’s head drooped. Deeply saddened by the pronouncement, a low sound echoed from his throat. He shouldn’t blame himself. It was self-defense. Besides, death by grall wasn’t considered murder, more like misadventure. No different than stepping in front of an avalanche.
The slaver shook his head. “What do I tell Jessup? He’s a business partner, you lout!”
“I was only helping the girl.”
“Your loyalty is supposed to be to me. You’re fired!
13│ A GRALL STEPS INTO A BAR…
~
“AND FORGET PICKING UP YOUR pay,” Randall added. “Jessup will want compensation for what you did to his man.”
“You can’t do that,” I said, defending my defender. “They were going to kill me.”
“If only they had.” Randall turned his back and ambled towards the wagons.
“Don’t let him treat you like this,” I told Jorg. “Go, demand your pay at least.”
The grall spoke as quietly as his deep, booming voice was capable of, “I hated working here anyway.”
“I got you fired, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay, really. But...”
“What?”
“I’ll have to go home now. My visa requires I have a patron to stay in the city.” He looked north. “It’s going to be a long walk.”
I didn’t know anything about gralls and where they came from, or who in the name of the Three Kingdoms gave out visas to them, but I did know they were considered dangerous creatures, like dragons. The Highcrowne government must require someone to vouch for him. “I’ll be your patron. It’s the least I can do.”
“You have a job for me?”
“Don’t I just have to guarantee you won’t cause any trouble?”
“I have to be ‘gainfully employed’ to stay here,” he said, morose. “Time to start walking home.”
I grabbed hold of his arm; it took both hands to get a grip on him. “I owe you. Follow me, and I’ll think of something.”
The fracas involving Grim and Gormless was still underway. The two of them were having fun and in no hurry to end it. Only a few of the rival gang’s members still stood. I debated about helping, but I didn’t want to get any more involved in this war than I already was. It wasn’t my problem.
I slipped away with Jorg in tow. I felt fairly safe now with a grall watching my back.
What should I do with him? There certainly wasn’t room for another house guest at Viktor’s. But I seldom gave up once I got it into my head to do something. I resolved to pay the debt I owed Jorg somehow.
I let my subconscious work on a solution to this latest puzzle, while I dealt with the old one. I had some slavers to bring down.
I pulled out Kali’s forged documents and read them while I walked. I knew the streets in the neighborhood well enough, I didn’t have to look up before making a turn. The documents appeared convincing, which explained why the slaver woman was so confident, but I knew they were fake. There had to be some way of proving it.
Magic immediately sprung to mind as the simplest method, but I couldn’t afford a mage’s fees. Besides, why pay for something I could get for free? Erick seemed to know what he was doing, and he was sure to have some potion or talisman for demonstrating the documents had been forged.
I made my way to the Bowl and Crown Inn and assumed all the passerby were staring at the evil, brother-murdering, pariah called Eva before I remembered the grall. I’d grown used to his booming footsteps behind me, finding it a comforting sound. If I had the money, I’d hire him as a full-time bodyguard and then see what the High Priest’s wife and other gossips had to say to me.
The common room hushed as soon as me and my companion entered. Jorg bent double to avoid hitting the top of the door frame. Diners stared, spoons half way to their mouths. The mélange of lunch time aromas was enticing.
The matron greeted us. “Can I help you?”
“What’s good? Ooh, do you have those pastry parcels?”
She couldn’t stop looking at Jorg. “...Does it want some too?”
“You should try them,” I told him.
“Okay.”
“Two pastries,” I said.
She pulled out a chair from one of the tables, assessed the grall’s size, then put it back. “I’m sorry, there’s no place that you both can sit.”
“We’ll take the food with us.”
Relieved we wouldn’t be staying, the matron’s tense stance relaxed. She hurried to the kitchen.
“Wait here,” I told Jorg. He nodded. Since all eyes were on the grall, I followed the matron unobserved.
The kitchen was larger and more organized than Karolyne’s, with lots of hanging herbs and shiny pans. I knew shiny was better than blackened and rusted, but that was about all I knew. The cook and matron were both surprised by my entrance. “You can’t be here.”
“I want to know if Erick Karsten is in. He’s the real reason I’ve come.”
The matron frowned, which made me wonder if she guessed something about Erick’s illegal activities. “He’s not here.”
“Can you give him a message then? Tell him Eva needs to see him right away.”
“Eva who?”
“He’ll know who I am. And thanks for the pastries.” I held out a few coppers, not knowing what the price would be, and she took twice as many as I would have liked.
“I’ll tell him.” She wrapped my food in a thin scrap of cheesecloth and handed them over. “Come again...but without the grall, if you please.”
I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not up to me where Jorg goes. He’s free to do whatever he wants. After all, who’s going to stop him? You?” That ruffled her feathers, which was what I’d intended. I couldn’t abide racism or species-ism, whatever.
Admittedly, I didn’t like elves or twin sisters, but my opini
on was justified from experience.
When we were back on the street, I handed Jorg his pastry parcel. It looked like nothing more than a crumb in his massive hand. He knocked it back and swallowed.
“Mm, good.” A moment later, he said, “Food service seems like a rewarding career. It makes people happy. Maybe I should apply for a job here?”
The food was delicious, but the matron’s comment about Jorg made it sit poorly in my stomach. “There are better places you can work.” And I had just the one.
Karolyne’s was terribly busy at midday. I was glad it wasn’t my shift. Another girl I only knew in passing was working the kaffe bar.
I spotted utensils flashing in the kitchen and heard pots clanging but couldn’t see anyone through the opening, so it must be the dwarf back at work. He was too short to see over the counter and hopped on a step stool every time he needed to put a plate up there.
Karolyne was taking orders as always. She must not require sleep, because she seemed to be here every shift.
Jorg’s arrival had the same effect as it had at the Bowl and Crown. Conversation ceased and it went quiet, except for Reginald, unable to see outside the kitchen, who continued to cook noisily.
“A grall,” the phlegmy voice of the goblin full of awe. The mercenaries were back and enjoying a few bottles of fermented milk. Karolyne’s new daylight prohibition was not working out very well, especially with the more insistent customers.
Since I had Karolyne’s full attention, along with everyone else’s, I said, “Guess what? I found you a new busboy!”
When I indicated Jorg, my friend swayed a little. I liked to think my suggestion had been so overwhelmingly brilliant that she was momentarily stunned, but I suspected it was more like the shock induced by sheer terror.
“Order up!” Reginald said.
Karolyne came out of her daze and ran over to me. “What are you doing, Eva?”
“Helping you out.”
“Order up!” Reginald bellowed this time.
“You can’t bring a grall in here. He’ll tear up the place.”
Jorg stood, hands at his sides, smiling cheerfully at us.
“He will not. You don’t even know him. Let me introduce you.”
I did the formals, and when Jorg held out his hand, I was proud of my friend for shaking it. It was awfully dry and scratchy I knew.
“Pleasure to meet you, but you can’t work here.” Karolyne pointed at the crowded room. “It’s too small for one thing. And for another, I’m not hiring.”
Jorg’s face fell.
I patted his arm. “Listen, I’ll convince her.”
“Grall!” One of the goblins shouted.
“Stay out of this,” Karo told the customer.
“Grall! You think you can smash us? You think you can fight? We’re Fierce Brigade and we’re not afraid of you!” Raucous laughing among the goblins followed this challenge. Jorg didn’t seem to hear them; all his attention was focused on Karolyne.
“I told you to be quiet,” she said.
“You’re not our master, human!” The goblin swigged back the remainder of his alcohol and shattered the bottle on the table. Dishes clattered everywhere and glass went flying. A few customers looked ready to flee, but Jorg was still blocking the doorway.
“Look what you’ve done.” Karolyne held her hands out to the mercenaries. “Please, sit down. I’ll bring you another drink.”
“No more drink! Not until we drink blood!” The goblins snickered and cheered, working themselves up to a frenzy with a bunch of warrior chants—then they charged Jorg.
Karolyne and I jumped aside. A wall of teeth headed for us. Only when that deadly mass impacted against the grall’s legs did Jorg notice them. He looked down at the teeth buried in his thighs, carefully grabbed a goblin by the neck, and pressed his fingers against the hinges of its jaw until the mouth popped open. He flung the tiny goblin out into the street like a dislodged flea. Snow had begun to fall. The other two goblins were evicted the same way, without a sound from Jorg.
When it was done, he wiped his hands. “Did I miss something?”
Karolyne’s mouth hung open. “Amazing.” Of course, she hadn’t seen him fighting gangsters in the Slave Quarter. I knew Jorg was capable of far more. He’d restrained himself, because he was basically in the middle of a job interview.
Jorg shivered at a draught from the door and pulled it shut. “Goblins are angry, little people.”
“Hello? Does anyone care about all this food I’m cooking!?” Reginald called from the kitchen.
“Give me a minute,” Karolyne shouted back.
“Oh, give you a minute, eh? Thinks her time is more important, does she? I can’t have one nap during the day, but you can take your time and have a little chat during the lunch rush? Why do I even try? No one appreciates when I work hard. All you notice is when I leave. Well, here I go! Goodbye!” He tore off his apron and tossed it on the plates waiting to be collected—I caught a glimpse of his hand—then Reginald marched into the common room.
I stepped in front of him. “What will Gypsum say?”
Reginald frowned. “I’m sick of being held down by women. I’m not listening to them anymore, not to Gypsum and not to you. This time I’m staying quit!” His jaw set, the dwarf walked between the grall’s legs and out the front door.
Reginald had quit a few times before, but this time I thought he meant it. Karolyne was stunned. She took in the packed restaurant and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. But this was Karolyne. She quickly pulled herself together, brain whirring away with calculations, and asked Jorg, “Can you cook?”
“Yes, he can,” I said with a huge smile. I had no idea if it was true, but I said it anyway.
~
I helped Jorg find his bearings in the kitchen, and we finished serving the lunch crowd. Surprisingly, a grall cooking didn’t scare away the customers; rather, he was an attraction. More and more people from the neighborhood came in under one pretext or another to catch a glimpse of him. There was a lot to look at. Unlike Reginald, Jorg was easy to see over the serving counter.
I couldn’t fit in the kitchen, unless I put my back to a wall. There was no room for Jorg to turn around either. But he had only to reach out for something he wanted, like a long-tentacled sea creature wedged in a crevice snatching passing prey. Jorg embraced in his new role, cranking out human food as though he’d done it all his life. He wasn’t any better at it than the dwarf had been, but at least he had a better work ethic.
In between offering advice on boiling vegetables, I learned that being evicted from the slaver encampment meant Jorg was now homeless as well. My debt was only half repaid. I doubted an inn or boarding house in the entire city would take him in, so I offered a bed at Viktor’s. Well, not a bed—since even the one in Viktor’s room wasn’t large enough—more a pile of bedding.
At the end of his shift, Jorg shook Karolyne’s hand again. “Thank for this opportunity. I didn’t want to go home to the ice. Expect a visit from an immigration officer in the next few days.”
“Elves and their paperwork,” she said, knowingly.
I told Karolyne, “I get overtime for helping the new cook get situated, right? My own shift isn’t due to start for a few hours yet.”
She acted like she hadn’t heard.
Jorg followed me home, and, once again, I loved the rumbling in the earth that accompanied us, as well as the shocked expressions of passerby. Let’s just say, while holding my Ashur I felt pretty confident, but with Jorg I felt downright cocky. I was almost itching for someone to mess with me.
The flaw in my plan became apparent when we were standing outside Viktor’s building, my building now, as I had to keep reminding myself. The doorways were not as large as those found in public houses, like Karolyne’s. There was no way to get the grall through the door.
“Follow me.” I led him around to the alley in back.
The rear entrance was even smaller. Then, I noticed the tr
apdoor to the cellar. It was wide enough for crates to be winched down into the storage area beneath the shop. I found the key on my key ring and opened the doors. Rough wooden stairs led into darkness.
“Gralls live in caves, right? A basement is like a cave. You’ll feel at home.”
“We live in houses,” Jorg said. “Big ones. But, this will work. Thank you.”
Guilty about exiling him to a dungeon, I went down first, swinging my cane in front of me to scare off any bogles and to make sure I didn’t run into anything. After cringing from cobwebs and damp wood, damp with what I didn’t want to know, I eventually found a lantern.
Using an iron sparker, which I always kept in a pouch, I managed to light it. Ok, I disdained mundane implements, but with my lack of funds and vow to avoid family magic, I didn’t have much choice but to adopt a few contraptions.
The cellar wasn’t too bad. Old bookshelves lined the walls, and empty crates full of straw packing material were stacked in one corner. Other than that, there was plenty of room for a grall. I found and lit a few more lamps, making the place almost cheery. In the process, I spotted the door to the coal closet beneath the stairs leading up to the bookstore. I’d forgotten to buy coal for my bedroom stove today. Why did I bother with ‘to do’ lists?
Jorg pointed at the crates. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
With one fist, he smashed them into bits of wood, straw flying, until there was something like a nest on the ground. He smiled. “I like it. Better than my old tent.”
“Did you leave any personal items with Randall?”
“A few.”
“Well, we are going back there tomorrow to get them. I’ll also send Nanny down here with some blankets to help make the place more habitable.”
“I like it fine.”
“You’ll like it better when we’re done.” I gave him the key to the cellar, so he could come and go as he pleased. “Settle in. I’ll be back soon.”
I made my way upstairs, formulating my explanation to Nanny on the way. I imagined it might go something like, “Well, I found this stray grall....”
I expected Nanny to be my biggest worry, but I was in for a shock as soon as I stepped into the entry hall—Ilsa was there waiting for me. Behind her, I saw Kali in tears, Nanny grim faced, and the white armor of three elven guardsmen.
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