In the Company of Ogres (31 page)
The oracle felt along the floor until finding the pile of pillows and took a seat. He briefly wondered why Never Dead Ned cared if he died again. It was probably terribly inconvenient, he guessed. But Ned didn’t need worry much longer. No one did.
Owens heard the future, and now he heard very little. The future was deathly quiet. As quiet and still as the grave. That silence, so loud in its inevitability, overwhelmed the whispers of possibility that he normally had to filter. It was why he was so happy. It’d been a long time since Owens had enjoyed a moment of true peace. It was only a shame that the world had to end for him to have it.
Twenty-five
A GRIM FOREBODING told Ned he’d made a mistake stepping out of his office. He expected the entire building to collapse on his head. He expected the floor to open wide and swallow him whole. He expected Death herself to be standing there, cradling his tombstone in her pointed, red fingers. But there were only the two posted guards.
One of the guards asked, “Is everything all right, sir?”
The foreboding left Ned. He had no reason to be nervous. The universe wasn’t out to get him, and why should it be? His death was its death. If anything, the forces of fate must certainly have been doing their best to keep him alive. Ned didn’t place much faith in higher powers. Gods were unreliable. Destiny was a hope found in the hearts of desperate men. But sometimes, if they believed strongly enough, desperate men could do great things. Ned was desperate. Desperate enough to believe someone somewhere was watching over him. He had no other hope to cling to.
“I’ll be taking a brief constitutional,” said Ned.
“Should we accompany you, sir?” asked the guard.
He dismissed it as unnecessary. All his deaths at Copper Citadel had been accidents, all preventable with some caution and a bit of common sense. He didn’t see the need for a personal guard.
“No, stay here. I should be back soon.”
Ned ambled carefully down the hall. Along the way he tapped the floor ahead of him with his staff, like a blind man feeling his way. By the time he reached the door leading outside he was more confident. Each step felt like a success; each second he lived was now nothing short of a miracle. He reached for the handle but paused. Maybe it would be better to call it a day. He could always try going outside tomorrow.
He glanced back at the guards. Both averted their eyes to look elsewhere, but they’d been watching him. He couldn’t just turn around now without looking like some kind of idiot.
“Just a couple of minutes couldn’t hurt,” he mumbled as he turned the doorknob and stepped outside. His gaze met the cruel, black eyes of Nibbly Ned perched on Ward’s shoulder. The vulture emitted a scratchy, rasping screech and spread his wings. Ned’s sense of dread returned.
Ward saluted but Ned hardly noticed, so intent was his stare locked on Nibbly’s. “Hello, sir. Good to see you about.”
Ned swallowed his fear and mumbled something even he didn’t understand.
“Are you feeling well, sir?” inquired Ward. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“Fine. I’m fine.”
Ned broke his stare, and Nibbly folded his wings, snapped his beak, and shifted on Ward’s shoulder. Judging from its fresh red scars, the bird had trouble finding a spot it enjoyed for long.
“Glad to hear it, sir. Frankly I was getting a bit worried. And Nibbly here has been as well. Hardly eaten a thing the last few days. Isn’t that right, Nibbly?” He reached up to pet the vulture, only to have Nibbly’s sharp beak clamp onto his fingers. The ogre chuckled amicably as he wrestled to free the digits. “See there? He’s already back to his old playful self.”
As Nibbly tugged, the vulture’s eyes never strayed from Ned’s. Ward’s fingers were not the buzzard’s meal of choice, Ned realized.
Ward saluted again. “If you’ll excuse me, sir...”
“You’re excused,” said Ned. Just as long as the ogre took that damn buzzard with him. But as Ward walked away, Nibbly jumped from Ward’s shoulders and flew to a perch atop a high rooftop. He glared down with unblinking focus on Ned.
“Not to worry, sir,” said Ward. “He likes to be where he can see everything. It’s funny though. He usually perches on the northwest comer.”
The perfect spot, mused Ned, to stare into his office. Several times in his sanctuary he’d sensed the cold shiver of death stalking him. Now he saw it in this bird, this ugly caricature of a harbinger so obvious, so unimaginative, that he refused to take it seriously. But if Nibbly ever got close enough, Ned decided he’d brain the gods-damned bird with his speaking staff, if for no other reason than to get some use out of the worthless stick.
Ned toured Copper Citadel quickly. All about, soldiers were engaged in various training exercises. The main courtyard was divided into smaller classes. Surprisingly, Ogre Company seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not everyone of course. Ned caught a fair number of irritated glances, but the majority seemed not to mind the work, and a noteworthy percentage were going about their training with zeal. He guessed that once they’d accepted the idea, the soldiers were glad to have something to do other than sit around all day and drink.
Now they had games to play while they drank.
The soldiers had applied their creativity to combine the imbibing of drink and the art of war. In wrestling class, pinning your opponent won you a drink. Apparently so did getting pinned—though it earned you a smaller mug. A table was set to one side with six hearty mugs of ale, and whoever finished a lap around the citadel fastest got first choice. Any soldier finishing seventh or later had to go dry until his faster comrades, dulled by drink, slowed down a bit. Climb a rope while someone poured out a drink, and you could have whatever was left when you reached the top. Smack someone with a training club; have a drink of various stouts and ales in various servings depending on just where you hit your opponent. Pitch a spear into a straw dummy; have a drink. Shoot an arrow into a target; have a drink. One hundred push-ups; have a drink. The unorthodox approach appeared to be working, and while many soldiers were a bit unsteady on their feet, particularly the humans and elves by nature of size and delicate livers, Ned guessed an army that could fight drunk just might be a force to be reckoned with.
A large hand fell upon Ned’s shoulder. “There you are, sir. Finally out of your office, I see.”
Ned managed to wrench himself free of Ralph’s tight grip. “Yes, private.”
The ogre squinted and wobbled in place. He must have been training a little too enthusiastically this morning. His breath reeked of dozens of different alcohols, mixing into an unholy stench that nearly melted Ned’s speaking staff.
“I’ve been looking for you, sir.” Grinning, nostrils flaring, Ralph poked Ned in the chest with a finger. Ned nearly toppled over save for a quick brace from his staff. “I’ve wanted to speak with you.”
Regina, walking by with an armload of javelins, stopped suddenly. “Ned, you’re outside.”
People had noticed his absence. He felt validated in some manner. And maybe the speaking staff had been right. Regina did seem pleased to see him, but that only made him nervous. He couldn’t imagine what she might see in him, but he wasn’t in a position to pursue romantic complications. He had enough trouble understanding normal women. An Amazon could only be more vexing, particularly since she could easily kick his ass if the mood struck her. He fumbled for a reason to leave her presence.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Archmajor, but Private Ralph here wanted a word with me.”
Ralph belched. “That’s all right, sir. It’ll keep.” He stumbled away, swaying slightly.
Ned and Regina stood there quietly for an awkward moment that stretched into an uncomfortable half minute.
“Training is going well, I see,” said Ned.
“Yes, sir.”
He rocked on his heels. “So, uh, javelins, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I just finished practice. Taking them back to the armory.”
“Oh.”
Ned had never noticed how attractive she was. He’d noticed she was pretty, but she wasn’t exactly his type. She was too tall, but in Ogre Company being under seven feet could almost be considered petite. And she was more striking, less cute, than he preferred. This quality was lessened again by the surrounding personnel. Anyone with all their teeth and not covered in shaggy hair had a lot going for them.
“Armory, huh?”
Regina nodded, frowning. “Yes, sir.”
“Training is going well.”
“You already said that.” Her frown deepened to a scowl.
“Yeah, uh ... so who thought of the drinking games?”
“I don’t recall.”
It was, in fact, Miriam’s idea. Loath as Regina was to admit it, Miriam was actually a good morale officer, but Regina wasn’t about to say that aloud.
“I don’t want to keep you, Archmajor,” said Ned.
Regina sighed. “No, sir, I suppose you don’t.”
He turned to leave.
“Have I done something to offend you, sir?” she asked.
“Beg your pardon?”
“I was just wondering if I’ve done anything to put you off.”
“No. Why?”
She laid aside the javelins. All those rules Ulga had laid down about the art of seduction passed quickly through her mind, and were just as quickly discarded. She had had enough of this bizarre game. Subtlety wasn’t an Amazon’s way, and it certainly wasn’t in her nature. She refused to play it any longer.
“Do you find me attractive?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean, you’re very pretty.”
“Then you like me?”
Ned shrugged. “I dunno.”
She stalked forward, hands clenched in fists, fists on hips. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Well ...” He shrugged again. “It’s just that I don’t really know you very well.”
Regina’s face twisted into a grimace. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He was tired of shrugging so Ned rocked the staff back and forth. “I dunno.”
Though only a few inches taller, she towered over him. He slouched under her icy stare.
“What’s wrong with you?” Her voice raised, and nearby soldiers turned their heads. “You don’t care about knowing me. All you care about is having your way with me. I’m naked flesh. I’m a serving wench, a cook, a nursemaid to your fragile ego. I’m an incubator for your worthless seed. But I am not a person.”
“You’re not?” He almost apologized, but he wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.
“I’m better than a person. I’m a woman. But you’re a man, and you’re not supposed to give a damn about that.”
“I’m not?”
“So what’s wrong with me?”
“I dunno.”
She literally growled. He expected her to knock him out with a single right cross, but she snorted and stared him down.
“You’re just a little ...”—he didn’t want to finish the sentence, but her intimidating presence overwhelmed his good sense—“... manly.”
She didn’t raise her arms, but he still flinched. To his surprise the Amazon suddenly calmed. Her face fell blank.
“I suppose you need a woman weaker than you then.”
“No. It’s not your strength. That’s admirable, and I’m pretty used to everyone being stronger than me. It’s just—I guess I haven’t really thought about it—you’re a little rough. It can be scary.”
Regina smiled suddenly. The expression seemed forced, and even someone as wholly unobservant as Ned could see the fury seething just beneath her surface. But there was always a little bit of quiet rage boiling in the Amazon.
“Ned, may I call you Ned?”
He nodded.
“Would you like to have sex with me?” She spoke the sentence slowly, as if speaking to a child. A dull-witted child at that.
He froze. The answer was obvious, but he sensed the wrong response could have terrible consequences.
Her forced smile widened, and she took his hand in hers. She stepped closer. He couldn’t look her in the face. His gaze fell across her slender neck, pausing on her ample chest, sliding to her shoulder. Her creamy, kissable shoulder.
She whispered in his ear. “I don’t know why, Ned, but I desire you. Honestly I don’t think I even like you. You’re not a bad sort, but you aren’t truly worthy of what I offer. But that doesn’t matter. None of that. What matters, Ned, is that I’m offering you my body, my tender, untouched by any man, Amazon flesh. Do you want it?”
Ned gulped. There was barely an inch between them. Her heat washed over him. Drops of sweat beaded on his face and neck.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Yes?” he replied.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She planted her hands on his chest, and he thought for a moment that she was about to have her way with him right there, right now, in front of all these leering soldiers. She shoved him away. Caught off balance, he fell on his back. Regina’s sword flashed from its scabbard. She adopted an offensive stance.
Other books
Jars of Clay by Lee Strauss
Only The Beginning (Rockin' Country) by Briscoe, Laramie
The Between by Tananarive Due
Still House Pond by Jan Watson
Evil in the 1st House by Mitchell Scott Lewis
Stormwalker by Allyson James
Maiden Lane [6] Duke of Midnight by Elizabeth Hoyt
Brave Battalion by Mark Zuehlke
The Body in the Bonfire by Katherine Hall Page
Whistling Past the Graveyard by Susan Crandall
