Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 33
~

Nuel didn’t sit by me in council. That shocked me dizzy. Not really. She loitered in the back with our troll friend. Doke never acknowledged them once, the entire morning, though Nuel raised a hissy several times. Maybe a little rude not to give her the floor, but she was a visitor, and Doke could pretty much guess she figgered we were usin’ a nuclear device when a little persuasion was in order.

Persuasion wasn’t gonna get us anywhere. Never had with humans. They were always so holier than thou. The threat of a new race war two hundred years ago didn’t put a lot of fear in them—until our forefathers demonstrated our cumulative strength.

The war the Covenant ended four hundred years ago would have gone a different way if the orcs, goblins, trolls, and ogres had been as organized as they were under my great, great grandpa Ike.

Now our strength is economic. Maybe not as scary. But it would be effective. If we remained unified. Either way, when we stopped shippin’ our beef and wheat North, there would be a reckonin’.

Doke stopped a minor argument that was going nowhere, and stood. I might have been in my own doze.

“We have a platform for our staff to proceed. We need them to put those things in motion that we’ve agreed upon. Talkin’ about twelve months from now serves no purpose. Let’s give ’em time to build a detail plan and meet again as necessary. We’ve already formed enough side committees to make me apoplexic.” He looked my way.

What? Was he expectin’ me to argue? Or lookin’ for agreement.

He didn’t look particularly ticked off at me today. Was I his new go to guy? I got my lips movin’. “I move we schedule a follow-up session in two weeks, and adjourn for now.”

Argument rattled, of course.

Our sergeant at arms shouted, “There is a motion on the floor.”

A second echoed.

“Discussion,” our burly sergeant growled.

A cousin, maybe thrice removed, stood, and Doke gave him a nod. “I’m local. Two weeks is nothing for me. But many of these folks drove a piece, or more. I suggest we let our peers work their projects. Ain’t like they’re gonna make decisions without yar say, Doke.”

Doke closed one eye. I was thinkin’ there were still a lot of big decisions to make. Two weeks was longer than I really wanted to push them out. Our sergeant pressed for a motion, which my cuz answered by addin’ a week to our recess.

After a long moment with no additional frettin’, Doke closed discussion and we voted on the two motions. We would adjourn, meet again in three weeks. Que sera. Winter would be workin’ the snow plows hard in the high passes by then. Certainly wouldn’t be two-wheelin’ it back.

As we straggled out of the pavilion, everyone was grabbin’ for their phones. I had stopped countin’ how many times mine vibrated. Now I confirmed thirty-three missed calls. I was pullin’ up my first message when I almost walked into Nuel.

Her grimace froze me in place, and I forgot about my phone.

“This hasn’t gone that far yet.” Her eyes were puffy and red. “Ya could do something. Call them back from the abyss.”

“The abyss is status quo.” My voice might have come out in an angry rasp. “And if we don’t take a stand it’s gonna get worse.”

“This isn’t worse?” she shrieked, thrustin’ out her arms. “They’re following yar lead. Don’t lead them off a cliff.”

“What have ya Northern ogres been doing the last twenty years? What exactly, have ya accomplished?”

“It’s my home,” she said softly. “I don’t want to have to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

“Ya’re turning us from that second-class citizen ya called us, to the enemy.”

I wanted to tell her I appreciated her situation, but I didn’t want to be part of the generation that allowed ogres to become a persecuted race, again, like we were six hundred years ago. If she hadn’t figgered that out yet, there was no explainin’. I walked around her, my eyes wellin’.

At the Inn, I ordered a to-go lunch, and strode out to the lawn. The air was nippy, for my plains conditioned blood, but the sun felt wonderful. I could have used my bike leathers, but I stretched out in the grass and munched, starin’ across the purple ripples of the Lake.

After a moment my shoulders started shakin’, but it wasn’t the chill. My hands skittled a little next, and a sense of doom wrapped around me. Is this a horrible mistake? We virtually threatened to starve the North. The number of wars they’ve leapt into overseas proves they’re willin’ to fight and pay higher than they would if they just sat down and communicated.

Stubborn buttheads.

What if they started arrestin’ our giant cousins, didn’t allow them to emigrate South? Closed the border? They could hold Nuel’s people hostage.

But they were all proud of that constitution with its Bill of Rights. No abridgin’ their citizens’ right to seek happiness and all.

That wouldn’t stop ’em. They’ve proven to be hypocrites more times than I can count in my lifetime. They love to take advantage of the expression, the greater good.

On the bright side, the season was endin’ soon. The money the humans spend in the Hamlet would be dryin’ up because of winter for seven months. Would the tourism continue on the ski slopes on the lower slopes? If a boycott happened, maybe come spring, the Hamlet folk would appreciate a break from the tourists crawlin’ all over the hills, fishin’ the Lake.

The peak-season employees are mostly human. They’d even be hit hardest here, by a boycott or embargo.

The vibration in my pocket was gettin’ old. I drew my phone out to turn the sucker off. Throwin’ it in the Lake would work. Out of habit I glanced at the face. Daisy something. I don’t know a Daisy, and that certainly isn’t an ogre name. I knew a Dazy once, but he was a daemon. My curiosity must have gotten to me, because I answered.

“Hello, Mr. Ike. My name is Daisy. I’m a sixth grader and write for the ‘Lincoln Axemen Journal’.” The squeaky soprano voice had to be a prank.

“Lincoln, on Halifax Boulevard?” I tested.

“Noser,” the human squeaked. “Newt Gingrich Boulevard.”

Ha. It was the elementary school just down the block from me. But this had to be a prank. How would she have gotten—oh yeah. A butthead posted my number online. I really need to get a new one.

“The reason I’m calling is, would you be willing to give me an interview. I’m hoping to be a journalist when I grow up, and would be really honored—” she mumbled more I couldn’t catch. I think she was now losin’ her composure. If this was a prank, the actor was good.

“Monday at 9:00 AM. Meet me at the office,” I said. She’d know I meant the school office, right?

A screamin’, screechin’, harpy-club-soundin’ ruckus about broke my ear bone. I think Daisy must have lost her focus, because a moment later an adult voice came on the line, sayin’ Daisy would be there, and gushed a couple thankyous before disconnectin’.

I dialed the Ogreware switchboard, asked to be connected with the marketin’ department. A surprisingly sexy-soundin’ hen named Gorg introduced herself five minutes later. I explained my interview and asked her if she would organize a film crew to be on site to record it. The hen asked me a couple dubious questions, I’m sure to confirm I am who I said I am.

I so need a guy. A guy people would recognize, and trust. Who knows the mysterious Ike guy? I’ll have to call Dave and ask him how I get a guy.

“Gorg?”

“Yes, sir?” she answered.

“If I called and said I was Ike’s guy, secretary, whatever, ya would have believed me?”

She snorted. “Absolutely. Ya need a guy.”

I have to get a guy.

“Call the school, clear everything ya gotta clear, huh.”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“What’s up?” The loud voice six feet away made me jerk. The phone almost ended up in the Lake after all. Darshee asked if I had a guilty conscience.

I hung up my phone and slid it into my pocket. Wizper plunged into the grass next to me, about breakin’ a few of my ribs as we collided. Darshee leaned over and bussed my cheek. Our tusks clacked together loudly. She was in a good mood.

“Thought ya guys would be out hikin’,” I said.

“Did one of the upper trails this morning.” Wizper twisted and used my hip as a pillow. “What are ya doing down here alone?”

I needed the space, but instead of answering I kept it to myself, as I trailed fingers across Wizper’s forehead and temple. She moaned.

“Ya feelin’ persecuted?” Darshee lowered next to me, facin’ the opposite direction as Wizper, and used what was left of me for her pillow.

“We met Nuel up the hill,” Wizper said, eyes closed against my continuin’ caress. “She wasn’t any happier than she was last night. Asked when we were headin’ home.”

“When are ya headin’ home?” I asked.

“Stickin’ with Sunday afternoon. Ya?”

I was gettin’ ahead of her. Nuel prolly couldn’t get a flight out. “Everything goin’ on, I should get back.”

“Why don’t ya take my bike,” Darshee said. “That way I can drive Nuel home Sunday.”

I didn’t have my leathers with me. No gloves. Boots. I’d freeze on the passes.

“All ya have is cargo shorts?” Wizper asked.

I nodded. Both hens turned on big grins.

“Ya really messed up with that hen,” Wizper said.

Didn’t expect that next. “Like ya care,” I said.

“Well, not a lot,” Darshee said. “But if we aren’t good enough for ya, we’d still like to see ya happy.”

“As if I believe ya, but it isn’t about ya being good enough.”

“Howzit again?” Wizper said. “Not that we’re desperate or anything.”

I had enough stranglin’ my brain muscle I didn’t need this conversation. I opted for a different answer. “Them Northern ogres are different. It was a doomed friendship from the moment I met that hen. So ya two just stop yar catty, hissy connivin’ and let it be.”

“Ya don’t have a lot of respect for hens,” Wizper rasped. I think she was fakin’ her anger. “Did ya know that?”

“If I didn’t show hens respect, my mama would kill me,” I said.

“Ya need to act like yar mama’s watchin’ ya more often,” Darshee said.

That was cold. I respect hens. I just don’t want to mate with one for life.

“Both of ya are closer to me than any friend I’ve ever had.” Except maybe Ezra, and Kriz. And they’re kin, so they really don't count. “That ain’t good enough for ya, I’m sorry.”

They lay, quiet for a while.

“Yar papa is takin’ this better than I expected,” Wizper said.

Yeah. He is. Wait, what part?

~ Nuel ~

Am I completely freaked out about the direction the council is taking, or about Ezra claiming I have some flame or something for that idjit Ike?

Both. Neither. I don’t know. Don’t know why I feel so alone. So hurt. So stupid. After being such an idjit with Ike, no way he would want to look me in the eye again.

I was a little—mean.

I’m not really attracted to him. Yeah, physically, a little, maybe. But intellectually, no, not at all. He plays basketball. Rides motorcycles. He’s all about testosterone.

It’s like, power of suggestion. Everyone else thinks he’s hot so I’m supposed to. But I’m only with Ike this week because I was asked to talk to him. And he helped me get to Black Lake. Arranged a place for me. It’s just, coincidence. Ezra, Darshee, Wizper just look at us being here together, and are putting the wrong variables together.

Wrong variables.

Even if I wasn’t getting over one bull already, somewhat, I for sure wouldn’t be looking to get in another relationship with another one.

~