Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 30
~

The time may have come to hire an assistant, get a guy. I never have put the effort in communicatin’ as I should. Now I couldn’t keep up with my phone. Didn’t help that someone had leaked my private number. So I was gettin’ a lot of death threats too.

They prolly drew the opposite reaction in me than they intended. I chortled, a lot. To us, humans have weaselly, nasal, high-pitched voices to begin with, and to hear one of them challenge me got me gigglin’. And it’s hard to make an ogre giggle. I’ve done it maybe twice in my life before today.

My orc buddy was still preppin’ for our flight, so I granted an ad hoc interview right there in the terminal, since the lady agreed to be there within ten minutes.

Surprisingly, the woman didn’t come off as though she had an agenda, and asked me amazingly open-ended questions, then allowed me to bloviate. It was hard not to let it go to my head. I’d prolly be smashin’ myself in the head when I viewed the cut version of the video. But I felt smart at the time.

So the world now knows the Range is partly run by the most arrogant beast—yeah I recognized the B word was gonna get a lot of throwin’ around in the near future, who was willin’ to spite himself to put it to a people not willin’ to give giants the respect he thought they deserved.

Between that face-to-face and the next phone interview, Papa reached me again. Said I was gonna need a lot of support to make my bluff sound real. So he figgered me out. Hope it didn’t get around. That’s the only way a bluff works.

He had several businesses with storefronts and factory footprints that would make newsworthy splashes if they were at least temporarily shuttered. “In process,” he said. And hung up.

No comment that this was completely in the opposite direction of our earlier plans?

So I enjoyed listin’ those first business closings when the more hostile talkin’ head got me on the phone. Between his spinnin’ I got in a few words. Like, “Watch where yar stock market will close today.”

I was in the air back to the Hamlet when the bell rang. The three Northern markets were down, big. Surprisingly, the Ogre Industrial swung way up. Logically it should have dived too, because movin’ a business is more expensive than keepin’ it where it is. Maybe the financial people understand something we’d missed. That we’d be better off dumpin’ our efforts in the North where we weren’t appreciated.

My orc buddy was droppin’ us straight for the Earth’s core which was only dots of light when Zug reached me.

“Doke offered me a position,” he said.

“Not as his public relations officer, I hope.”

He didn’t laugh. I thought it was a rather witty remark.

“Rioters are screamin’, Ike’s head on a pike. Ya should be proud.”

“This morning, I had hoped to do little things over years. A few hours in yar city and it became clear that would be a losin’ battle.”

“Why do they hate us so much?”

Zug was askin’ me? If he didn’t know, the question couldn’t be answered. “Because ya trolls are ugly,” I said. Though maybe deep down, I know the reason. They fear us. Fear breeds loathin’.

“We’re gorgeous compared to ya snouted, tusked, insults-to-nature.”

“Yar problem, troll, ya can’t handle yar jealousy. That, and yar arms are hideously too long.”

“The better to smack ya into next year.”

“We ogres have never been scared of ya guys,” I said. “We can easily outrun ya.”

“Cowards.”

“Very smart cowards,” I said.

“I need yar help.”

I waited.

“I’ll bring my people, but allowances must be made.” His tone was more serious than ever, now.

“How so.”

“The Range is closed to new development.”

Oh.

“Makes living there a little expensive.”

“Can we build down instead of up?” I asked.

He was silent a scary twenty-count. “We’ve kinda gotten used to living above ground.”

“That’s too bad,” I said.

“What can ya do?” he asked.

“I’ll make some calls. It won’t be this week or next month. Ya’ll have to be patient. Be easier if ya’d accept new communities on the West Slope. Or, ya know, ya’ve always gotten along well with orcs.”

My pilot blurted, “With trolls?”

“Ya’d put us in the desert?”

“They got some dandy golf courses,” I said.

“Ya know we have lousy swings, huh?”

“With those arms, I’d expect six-hundred-yard drives.”

“We can hit ’em far, just not necessarily where we want ’em to go.”

“Ya guys do anything well?” I asked.

“Checkers,” he said.

“Only because ya cheat.”

“I hate ya,” Zug mumbled.

“Everyone who knows me well, does,” I said.

“Do me a second favor,” he said.

I waited.

“Keep that Kevlar handy. There are really some angry people out there.”

Humans. Prolly not folk, generically. I told him I’d call him when I knew something, and he disconnected. Amazing, that those jerks treat giants the way they do, yet get ticked off when I threaten to take my toys and go home.

Where did that Kevlar go? Oh, yeah. I left it in Zug’s office.

~ Nuel ~

It was stinkin’ cold on the Inn’s veranda, even under the quilt I huddled under. I couldn’t fathom how Ezra sat there with bare arms, staring off into the abyss of blackness as though she could see the beauty of the Lake with a third eye.

After a bit she asked me about my hike.

I told her it was exhausting.

“Ya ever upbeat about anything?” she asked.

What?

Was she calling me negative, or something? I’d never—I’m not a downer, am I?

~