Chapter Four
~
Didn’t expect to get home with Aunt. Wasn’t surprised from her text that she was stuck in a late conference call, despite the council bein’ out of session. As the shuttle pulled up, my chest tightened not to be ridin’ home with Hale. Perhaps I should be gettin’ used to bein’ around him less. This past year, me at the medical school, Hale burrowed in at the business college, I’d experienced way too many bouts of—not depression. Loss.
Bein’ a Birs, I had to return a redundant half-dozen smiles as we qued for the shuttle. Hale never caught anyone’s eye. How did he get away with ignorin’ folk? We’re treated as royalty, as stupid as that is. Mama would rip my head off if I didn’t play my part. She took the whole near-pageantry to heart more than most cousins directly in the Birs bloodline. She’s awfully proud to have a Birs mate. A most-beloved Birs. More so than even Ike, though Mama says it wasn’t always like that. In truth, Uncle has enough personality to impress the average snake. Bein’ clan leader, suppose every decision likely to tick off as many as it makes happy.
Why couldn’t I appreciate Mama’s sentiment for my lineage?
Aunt Ezra, another not-really an aunt, has told me it’s because I haven’t spent enough time on Great-Great Grand’s ranch. Somethin’ about not soakin’ in the ancient ogre’s wisdom.
The floor lightin’ softened a three-count after the doors closed. As folk settled in their seats, the gentle tone from the ceilin’ speakers eased more noticeable. An acoustical version of a troll dirge. Pleasant white noise, I guess. Though Hale has turned me into a Blues lover.
The sun had already angled below the western peaks, though it was long to evenin’. Days are so short in the cradle of the Range, especially along the Lake’s slopes, not that I miss the much warmer days on the East Slope facin’ the Plain. But the calmin’ sky kept the voices on the shuttle muted.
We were snuggled into ancient pines within seconds, losin’ sight of the Lake. Ten minutes later we arched around East Bay and purple and orange volleyed off the water as She came in sight moments at a time.
Most riders exited at the near villages, and the shuttle seemed to sigh in relief. Or maybe that was just me. Hale’s preference for solitude influences me, I’m not ashamed to admit. Probably not a good trait for a future physician. But it isn’t like I hate folk. Maybe, I should admit I get tired of how folk look at Hale and me. Their expressions shout, “do they look more ogre, troll, or human?”
For goodness sake. We haven’t a drop of human in us. So our tusks are meager. Get over it. If only Hale wore his hair in dreads. He says it bothers him when he works. But wearin’ it in the human fashion—lordy, doesn’t help. Yeah, I’m guilty too. I prefer braids over dreads. Enjoy relaxin’ in the evenin’ drawin’ a brush through my long hair. It’s a crucial part of my ritual.
The shuttle pulled under the station cover of one of OW’s satellite buildin’s. The driver stopped short, lowered his window, and a friendly back and forth erupted. I twisted and caught sight of Uncle Ike standin’ on the sidewalk with Darshee and Wizper, another set of near-aunts, without a drop of Birs blood.
The three wore leathers, carried helmets and rich-lookin’ courier bags over their shoulders. Their ginormous two-wheel OMs—Ogre Motors—leaned twenty feet away.
That low down stinkin’ ogre. I was on my feet without a thought, struck the exit chord, and raced to get off the shuttle. I could catch the next one home. The driver interrupted his conversation to offer me a, “Have a great evenin’.”
I rounded the back of the shuttle as it loomed forward. I shouted somethin’, don’t know what, pointed a threatenin’ finger at Uncle Ike. Why was my dander so ruffled?
The three OW executives turned my way, confusion turnin’ to smiles quickly. Darshee shouted a loud, “Hey.” Wizper had her arms extended for a hug already. But I wanted to punch Uncle between the tusks before my anger disappeared.
My expression must have warned Uncle, because he raised his hands up, free palm flat open. Maybe a plea not to kill him. His extended brain bucket a good buffer to his pendin’ demise.
“Ya can’t keep yar snout out of our business, can ya?” I shouted.
Pretty sure Darshee and Wizper ripped looks at Uncle. “Now, whatcha do?” Wizper hissed.
“Hardly anythin’,” he groused at his dear friends and colleagues.
I shouted, “Hale and I aren’t yar stinkin’ personal checker tiles, ya buffoon. Ya fix this or so help me, I’ll have Papa disown ya. Ya’re already off my birthday card list.” Maybe I needed a harsher scourge.
“Whoa,” Darshee and Wizper hissed together.
“Ya’re gonna love the hoedown,” Uncle tried.
I pushed aside his helmet so I could glare into his face. “Papa puts up with way too much of yar shenanigans. Ya stop manipulatin’ me and Hale now and forever or I’ll take a baseball bat to yar handsome face.
Don’t know why I suggested he might be handsome. But, yeah, he is.
“I suspected ya’d be angrier about studyin’ up North,” he said.
“Up North?” Darshee and Wizper muttered.
“I’m just gettin’ started, ya big ape.” I turned to my sweet almost-aunts. “The idiot wants to make spies of us.”
“Shh,” Uncle hissed, the open palm flutterin’. “Bring the volume down. Didn’t yar brother explain the—”
“He didn’t have to explain anythin’ to me.” His eyes said everythin’ that mattered.
“Spies?” Darshee and Wizper chirped.
Uncle twisted a look their way. “Shh.” Then looked about, but everyone exitin’ the buildin’ appeared happy just to get to their vehicles and get home. “Let’s talk about this in private.”
“As though we aren’t family?” Darshee and Wizper said.
Even though my anger was levelin’ off, I didn’t snort about that. Though the two spinsters are more aunt-like to me than Mama or Papa’s sisters. Despite officially livin’ on the North Plain, they’ve always gone out of their way to help raise Hale and me more than the blood-aunts livin’ here in the Range.
“Do ya ever learn?” Wizper hissed at Uncle.
“Ya want me to beat him up?” Darshee asked.
Didn’t need no one fightin’ my battles. I slugged Uncle in the chest. Hard. Hurt my fist a bunch. I came away shakin’ my hand. Ouch.
“There ya go, hen,” Darshee crowed.
“Yar mama’s gonna hear about that,” Uncle said, rubbin’ the spot. His face tinted a tad pained. But I was sure it hurt me more than it hurt him. Still, felt good. His agony was embarrassment.
~
Hale
~
“Go home,” Ekor mumbled, “so I can close the lot.”
Not that there was a gate or fence around the quarry’s display yard. I continued strokin’ the face of the multi-ton slab of granite, which could become so many thin’s. Sure, half a dozen busts, though I imagined this block formin’ a pair of gargoyles at the entrance of one of the Range’s villages.
Oh. Imagine a single dragon, accentin’ the lobby of one of the newer high rises—well, not high-high. The council still maintains a twelve-story limit throughout the Range. But there were many office-residential towers with a dozen basement floors. The trolls love those underground levels. Even many of the high-earners moved here from the North. “Ya wanna that I set that aside for ya?” the bent-over troll asked.
Before I decided, I needed to see it in full-light. Follow the deep veins to ensure its viability for whatever project I threw myself into next. Not like anyone else would bid on the block. Builders don’t sink that kind of money into this quality of quartz. More willin’ to pay more for granite already cut to the size they need, where an artist can still benefit from a hammer’s catastrophe.
“How are ya, Ekor?”
“The youngling can speak,” he mumbled. “Welcome back home. Not that I’ve missed ya, ya pain in the keister.”
Despite myself, I smiled. Yep, he didn’t rely on artists to keep food on his extended family’s table. “The arthritis?” I asked.
He closed one eye studyin’ me, lowered his chin. “Sucks gettin’ old. May be better than the alternative, but don’t let anyone tell ya age is just a number.” He asked about Mama and Bele.
“Good, and good. Thank ya.”
“I may have gotten more words out of ya this afternoon than the last two seasons.”
We both looked into the sky. The sun had sunken south of Dragon’s Ledge a bit ago. The old troll was probably indeed eager to head home.
“I’ll see ya when I return from the West Slope,” I said.
“Heard ya’d been corralled to represent the clan for this mid-cycle hoedown. Raised more than a couple brows, let me tell ya. What bull too young to imbibe on the offerin’s of the local still would care to deal with all the complainin’ and bickerin’ from the old farts for no reward. If ya want—” he gave me a grin gracin’ a couple missin’ teeth between his tusks. “I’d be happy to take yar place.”
I’m sure the ogre cousins would love to see a Range troll representing our clan. Almost as bad as one of the four half-breeds the Hamlet has bred. And they’re gettin’ two for the price of one with our visit.
I shook the old geezer’s hand, slapped the square of granite goodbye as I strode away. Must be my troll side, that gives me such a love of stone. The troll’s old wolfhound escorted me to the ancient truck Ike’s papa handed down to me. I gave him, the dog not the truck, a long scratch before climbin’ in. Perfect vehicle, if I could just keep the stinkin’ ogre from improvin’ upon it. The dings and gashes give it character. As did the rough idle. The fool put leather seats in the thing this past semester while I was away, electronic doodads no forty-year-old truck needs.
Clean rumble answered a light key twist. No key fob required thank ya very much. Almost didn’t hear the tone of my phone. Not a text. I hate talkin’ on the phone. Don’t know how Papa does it. He pretty much lives under a headset. He’d prefer to be lost in design docs, but he’s taken on more of the administrative side of OW, with Ike’s continued overindulgence with his Range Council duties.
Papa says he hates the business nonsense. But in truth, I doubt it. After fifty years of system architecture, that has to have become old.
Imagine. The call’s from my new nemesis.
“What?” I barked.
“Whoa,” Uncle Ike answered. “Now I know why yar sister wanted to tear my head off.”
What? Bele’s the most gentle creature on the planet.
“I thought ya trudgin’ off without a so-long was ya just bein’ ya this mornin’. Didn’t know I irked ya off so bad.”
I waited.
“Ya there?” he asked.
He expected a yeah or somethin’?
“Ya might wanna call yar sister,” he said.
Hm. Why? I just thought it, didn’t ask him. He’d know.
“She strode away from the shuttle stop. I tried to get her on the back of my bike but she just kept walkin’. It turns dark in a bit. She won’t make it home, before.”
Gets black in the mountains when the sun sets if there’s no moon. What’d he say to her to make her storm away?
“I didn’t say anythin’. I promise.”
The liar.
“She hopped off the shuttle and let into me about, ya know, this and that. Clubbed me in the chest. I think she hurt her fist.”
I asked him why he didn’t call Mama.
“I don’t want that hen upset with me too. Oh no. Fix this for me, will ya? Ya know ya’re my favorite cousin.”
The schemin’ liar.
I disconnected. Didn’t need to tell that low down ogre goodbye. Dialed Bele. She didn’t answer until the fifth ring. Probably ensurin’ it wasn’t Uncle.
“He called ya.”
Wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, so I just waited.
“He made me mad,” she said.
I waited.
“Where are ya?” she asked.
I told her I was just leavin’ the quarry. She’d know I meant the display yard west of the Hamlet. “You?”
“Hidin’ in the woods.”
“Uh.”
“Uncle wouldn’t leave me alone.”
I waited.
“I’m gonna miss the next shuttle if he doesn’t leave.”
I considered askin’ where she was. No tellin’ where she got off the shuttle. Instead asked her if she wanted me to call Uncle.
“I’m embarrassed,” she said.
Didn’t see what she had to be embarrassed over.
“Never should’a got off the shuttle.” After a pause she whimpered, “I think I wrenched my wrist.”
In my mind’s eye, I imagined her poppin’ him between the tusks. “If he tells Mama, she’ll light into ya.”
“He tell ya I hit him?”
I said, “Couldn’t see how else ya could’a wrenched yar wrist. But ya won’t have to worry about him tellin’ on ya. He don’t want us tellin’ her about his schemin’.”
She laughed. I disconnected and called Uncle back. He answered, so he wasn’t on the road. Doubted he’d Bluetooth his helmet just to get to our village.
“Yeah.”
“Leave. She’ll head back to the shuttle stop.”
“Okay,” he said. “This’ll stay between us best friends, huh?”
“Ya’re just an irritatin’ neighbor.” I disconnected, and backed up the truck hurried-like. Pretty much could guess where Bele crossed paths with Uncle. The next shuttle would arrive before I could get there, but I’d hurry just for somethin’ to do.
~
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