“But I’ve seen her use her hands and stuff,” I protested.
“Sure. It might help her focus, or it could be left over habits from when she needed to do that sort of stuff. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like every witch can simply think about turning you into a rat, and poof! you’re a rat. When they’re younger, they need to do the hand gestures, and the chants and all the rest. But it’s only a tool to get to the magic. Once there, they use it as easy as we use our hands to pick up this paper.”
“Then why couldn’t Minerva come in and help with the Death Knight?”
“Ah, I kind of wondered that too. See, the Death Knight really was a sort of master of death, regardless of what I told him. Or at least of death magic. As strong as Minerva is, that thing was still stronger, and would have cut her off from it like he did me. At best. Worst case, he would have killed her, and then turned her against us. We couldn’t take that chance.”
“But he couldn’t do that to you?” I asked.
“Oh, he could have tried. But once Minerva and the others showed me what they did, I saw that I could do it too. I could reach out, and feel the magic as part of me, rather than something separate. Once I had that…well, he may have been a master of death, but he wasn’t counting on one important thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I am, too. But unlike me, he continued to wrestle with the magic, bend it to his will. Me, I sort of asked politely, and the death magic did what I wanted. It’s still tiring. You still have to use your own strength to power things, but that one element, of fighting your own magic all the time…that was gone. And that’s what gave me a leg up on him.”
I tried to absorb what she was telling me and was finding it hard to do. If I understood right, my soon-to-be wife was now more powerful than a Death Knight. Something I never even heard of until two days ago, and that was apparently even more powerful than the Brownies in our basement.
“Sooo…Petal and her folks?”
Oh, that’s different entirely. Think of it like this. If the witches, me, the Death Knight, the wizards and whatever else all use magic, then the magic uses the Brownies. They have a more natural relationship with it than anything else in the world, and for them, it’s there like air, or the rain. But still…it’s different. Hard to explain.”
I shook my head. That was more of a magical education than I had ever received in my life, and it served to emphasize how far over my head it really was.
“I don’t get all that,” I said, “but I’ll take your word for it. I’m glad you’re here and the Death Knight is gone. And we’ll get back to work on who’s responsible for all of this soon. But in the meantime…”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I know. The elves are coming.”
I nodded happily, encouraging her to go on.
“And free ale,” she sighed.
We stayed put and took it easy for the next day too, but by the day after that, we were starting to get cabin fever, and needed to leave the house and do something. My back was doing much better, Lilly was fully recovered from her efforts, and we decided it was time to go see Sarge.
We hadn’t been back to see him since he was possessed by the Death Knight’s magic, and neither of us were sure if he would remember what happened, or how he would feel about it if he did. So, it was with some degree of trepidation that we walked into the Watchhouse.
“Sarge,” I said, to keep things normal.
“Duke, Lilly,” he said, glancing up from his ever-present newssheet. “I’m guessing you’ve heard the big news.”
“Elves,” I said, glad that everything seemed to be back to normal. “Yeah, imagine that. I didn’t think they ever left their own lands.”
“Not often, from the little I know,” he said. “But then, why would they want to?”
“To come here, of course! To see Capital City and all that it has to offer.”
Sarge looked at me, his face twisted into a grimace.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m sure that’s what they’re coming here for. Maybe they’ve heard of you and want to give you the Elven Medal of Being an Outstanding Guy or something.”
“Could be, could be,” I said. “Or…maybe they want to give the Award for Biggest Sh…”
“That’s enough, boys,” Lilly said. She walked around the corner and stood on her tip toes to give Sarge a peck on the cheek. “Glad you’re with us again.”
With that, she disappeared down the hall that led to her work area, leaving the two of us alone.
“Hey,” Sarge said, not looking at me. “About that…I…”
“Forget it,” I said. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“Sure would,” he smiled. “Let me know when I can crack you in the skull.”
I grinned at him, rapped on the counter and headed over to the Board.
Not that I was in any hurry to take a nuisance, but I felt I needed to get back in the game, or I was going to get too rusty. There wasn’t much there, and hadn’t been the last couple of times I looked. Maybe the attacks were keeping the random criminals from getting too bold. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything. Some people couldn’t behave no matter what else was going on.
I couldn’t believe what was posted there, amid all the goblins, gnolls, and couple of Unhoused orcs. An honest to gods minotaur. One of the only ones I ever saw posted. With honor being a major bone of contention for these guys, it was rare that one went bad. Instead, they lived by strict military standards, and were in much demand as mercenaries across the world. To the best of my knowledge, there weren’t even that many of them here in Capital City. Most of them lived out on the plains somewhere, in vast companies, waiting until someone needed them to kick the tails of another army.
There was nothing for me to do but take the notice, of course. I looked at the picture of the hulking beast, with its huge curving horns, and large black eyes. He looked fierce, as minotaurs tended to, there was no denying that. But I had an Ultimate Weapon, so I wasn’t too concerned with his appearance.
“I’m taking this one," I told Sarge. How often does a guy get to chase down a minotaur?”
“Be careful,” he told me. “Those things are dangerous.”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning at him again, “so am I.”
The notice said that this minotaur, Dabney by name, was last seen in the East Gate neighborhood. He was accused of assault on three teenage boys, and I had a suspicion that the Watch hadn’t checked this one out very well. The boys were all human, and no Watchman was going to get that close to a riled-up minotaur if they could help it. Not when they could leave it to someone like me instead.
The neighborhood was called East Gate because, at one time, the wall there had a gate in it that led to the east. Makes perfect sense, but that was long ago, and since then, it was closed up, leaving only a small door, big enough for one person at a time to come through. It was rarely used, but still guarded in case someone on the outside tried to get cute. Not too many people even remembered it, because at this point, I think it mostly led to a pretty barren stretch of dirt that lay in that direction.
Then again, it could lead to the Gardens of Paradise for all I knew. I hardly ever left the city, and when I did, it was with a particular destination in mind, and a firm commitment to be back inside the walls as soon as possible.
East Gate was pretty nondescript, with all of the usual components that make any neighborhood tick. Plenty of houses, interspersed with shops, restaurants, and taverns, set off by a square with a fountain, and some street vendors’ stalls around the edge. Nice but nothing special.
I saw no sign of Dabney, or of any other minotaur for that matter. But I found the street where the three boys lived, and went to the house belonging to one of them, the one who filed the complaint.
A middle-aged man who had seen better days answered my knock. Most of his hair was working its way off of his head and down his back, and he had a respectable paunch going on in the fron
t. He was dressed in a stained undershirt, and didn’t look pleased to see me standing on his step.
“Yeah?” he asked, and then paused to process a large belch. “What do you want?”
“Mr. Winchell? I’m Duke Grandfather, Nuisance Man.”
“Congratulations. What do you want?”
“You posted a notice at the watchhouse. About a minotaur named Dabney who assaulted your boy, and two others. I’m here to take care of it.”
He glared at me for a second, then turned his head and shouted into the house.
“Ronnie! Get your ass out here!”
A moment later a young, sullen looking teen-aged boy appeared.
“What?” he mumbled, not looking at either his father or me.
“Did you post something on that stupid nuisance thing they got? Something about getting your tail kicked?”
“No,” he said. “Gerald’s mother did. But they’re going away for a few days, so she put our address on it. I told the stupid cow not to!”
Ronnie’s father swung a casual, meaty paw around and cracked him on the back of the head, hard enough to make him lurch forward, and almost tumble down the steps.
“Watch your mouth, boy,” he said. “You mind your elders.”
Then he turned his attention back to me.
“There you go, Mr. Nuisance Man. I didn’t post it, so I ain’t paying.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself. I can always find something else to do.”
I turned to leave, but stopped when I heard Ronnie say, “Wait, ain’t you gonna do something about it?”
“No money in it,” I said.
“Huh. You’re going to let some cow-head push around our good human boys?” Mr. Winchell said. “Well then, I guess I’ll round up a few of the fellas and we’ll take care of this ourselves.”
He was serious too. Winchell was the type that felt helpless in his own life, so he dealt with it by bullying those who were weaker. That was obvious by the blow he casually dealt Ronnie. And by the way Ronnie took it, it wasn’t unusual either.
I wasn’t worried about the minotaurs. If Mr. Winchell and others like him attacked any of them, they’d find out why they were one of the most respected fighting forces out there. But, if that happened, Ronnie and a few others would be growing up without a dad, and there was too much of that in this city already. So, while my opinion of Winchell wasn’t very high, I didn’t want to see him try to make good on his threat either.
“Alright,” I told him. “I’ll check it out. In the meantime, you leave it alone. If I don’t deal with it, you have my blessing to get yourself slaughtered, if that’s what you want.”
He snorted and closed the door in my face. From inside, I could hear him shouting at Ronnie, the sound of another blow and what sounded like a young body hitting the floor. I swallowed my anger and walked away. Later perhaps, I’d be back for Mr. Winchell, but the city was full of injustices and I couldn’t take them all on.
Since neither Mr. Winchell or Ronnie had been any help, I started scouring the area. I walked along, half window shopping and half keeping my eyes out. The thing about minotaurs is that they’re huge, almost on par with ogres, so if one was around, chances are I was going to notice.
I did eventually, although it turned out I passed them by a couple of times already. Not just one mind you, but three of them, none of them Dabney. They were in the last place I would have thought to look, in the guard shack by the door that was the remains of the East Gate. It never would have occurred to me to check there.
“Hello boys,” I said, walking to the shack. They looked down at me with bored expressions on their faces. Then again, their heads really do resemble cows, so I wasn’t sure what any other expression would be.
“Help you?” one of them said, in passable common.
“I hope so. I’m looking for Dabney. Seen him around?”
The three of them looked at each other, then back at me. Guards all over the place always react the same, whether they’re dwarven, human, or minotaur.
“Maybe. Who are you?”
I played them the same tune that I went through with Winchell. They perked up a little at my name, or maybe it was at my profession. Then they went into a sort of huddle, and whispered among themselves.
The one who was doing all the talking came back and said, “Come with me.”
To my surprise, he led through the door in the wall, and outside of the city itself, where there was what looked like an honest-to-gods fenced in military camp, right there in the shadows of the wall.
It wasn’t huge, at least not my untrained eye. It was laid out in neat orderly rows, with low, wooden buildings all lined up, and tents pitched in precise formations on the far side. I’m sure my jaw was scraping the ground as I followed the minotaur to the entrance of the camp.
There, two more minotaurs stood guard, sharply at attention. They barely glanced at me as we walked between them, and I was led to the first building inside the fence. It was a spotlessly clean and well-maintained building, made out of sturdy wooden logs. Inside, it was no different, clean, organized, and well laid out.
In front of me was a desk, placed so that anyone coming through the door would see it, and be seen by the minotaur who sat there. Yet, it was far enough out of the way that anyone in the closed office behind it would be able to make it from their door to the exit in a straight line.
My guide took me to the desk and mumbled something quietly. The minotaur who was sitting there nodded, looked at me, and then went to the office door and knocked. A rough voice from within called out, “Enter!”
A moment later and the desk minotaur reappeared, followed by the largest minotaur I ever saw. His arms were like tree trunks, bulging through the sleeves of the military style uniform he wore. He walked over, stopped in front of me, and crossed those massive arms over a chest that was big enough to serve as a dining room table. His large eyes gave me the once over from beneath huge horns that could have gone through me, with room for two more bodies on the other side.
“What do you want with Dabney?” he rumbled.
In spite of his size, I wasn’t too concerned. Unless this was the rare rogue, he was going to maintain his discipline, and not gut me unless he was given specific orders. I didn’t think there was anyone present who outranked him to tell him to do this, so hopefully, I was safe.
“I don’t know that I want anything with him,” I replied. “At least not yet. But someone put his name up on the Nuisance Board at the watchhouse. I took it.”
“And you expect me to lead you to him so that you can kill him. Think again.”
“No, actually I don’t. The complaint was that he attacked three human kids, but I’ve already been to see one of them. I’m not so sure that I believe it. Now, I want to get Dabney’s take on it.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Duke Grandfather.”
“Huh. Yeah, I’ve heard of you. I’m not impressed.”
I didn’t bother replying to that. In my experience, it was either bravado, or they truly weren’t. Either way, the results ended up the same.
When I didn’t reply, he pointed at a chair near the desk.
“Sit there,” he told me. Then he turned to the one who escorted me in. “Watch him.”
With that, he stalked out of the room, his footsteps falling heavily on the wooden floor.
I sat, twiddled my thumbs, and waited. Then I waited some more. I tried to engage both my escort and the minotaur at the desk in friendly conversation, but they both ignored me and concentrated on their jobs without a word in return. Minotaur discipline, indeed.
Finally, the huge one came back.
“Come with me,” he said, which I was beginning to learn was a polite invitation from a minotaur.
He led me across the compound to a larger building, complete with a flagpole out front. At the top hung the flag of Capital City, showing the crest of the Royal House. Below that was a red flag, with a large, black b
ull’s horn, dead center, surrounded by a white circle. I assumed it was the flag for whatever group I was in the midst of.
The building that I entered was much like the one I just left, only with a few desks and offices. One of them was open, and the huge minotaur I was following led me straight into it.
The minotaur waiting for us was sitting calmly behind his desk. He was large too, as all of them are, but not nearly the size of my guide. But he had a certain something about him. A certain aura of confidence and poise, that made you feel this was someone that you would follow into battle, even if it meant storming the gates of hell.
“Mr. Grandfather,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “Please, sit. That will be all, Captain Darvish. Dismissed.”
The larger minotaur saluted, gave me one last glare and then left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“I’m General Daken. What’s this about a complaint being filed against Cadet Dabney?”
I told the General the story, from the time I took the notice off the Board, to my chat with Ronnie and his father, and finally to my arrival here. When I was finished, he asked if he could see the notice.
He snorted when I handed it to him, and then gave it back to me with a strange expression on his face. “Looks more like Captain Darvish than Cadet Dabney.”
I would have to take his word for it. Other than size and coloration, minotaurs truly did look remarkably similar to me.
“If I could speak to him, General, I might be able to put this whole thing to bed. Would that be possible?”
“It might. Before that, let me ask you a question, Grandfather.”
I sat back into my chair. “Sure, go ahead.”
“What do you know about us? The race of minotaurs, I mean.”
“Not a lot,” I admitted. “What everyone does, I guess. You’re considered to be some of the best troops around, honor is everything to you, and people pay you a lot of money to fight for them.”
Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story Page 43
