He was relieved, therefore, when Og overheard the noise of children playing in the back and directed him there. Of course, the orphans were outside. The orphanage had a large green behind it where the children of the town congregated. A crowd of them had gathered on the grass, and in amongst them all was Brother Kane.
Grim walked closer to get a better view of what the priest was up to. He had several sacks with him, and the ogre watched as he dipped his hand into one of them, producing a hobby-horse which he gave to one of the girls, who promptly rode off on the toy, galloping about and making neighing noises. Brother Kane had a gift for each child: balls, puppets, hoops, dolls, toy knights, toy boats, spinning tops, rattles for the babes. He made sure each child received a toy and when he was done with the gift giving, stayed to play games with the children, his beatific smile never leaving his face. He gently settled disputes and dried tears when the inevitable happened and a toy was broken or lost within minutes of being received, replacing it with something else from one of his sacks.
‘So that’s what he did with his share of the loot,’ said Og as they watched the scene play out, still hidden by elven magic.
‘Doesn’t look like he’s our murderer,’ Grim said.
‘Could be an act,’ said Dog, unconvinced.
‘Oh come on,’ countered Og. ‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it? If you were an evil bastard trying to cover your tracks, isn’t this exactly the kind of thing you would do?’
‘So everyone who helps other people is automatically suspicious? What a sad world you live in.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Dog shouted.
‘Please don’t start—’ Grim began, then stopped. ‘Wait, where is he going now?’
‘Aha!’ Dog crowed. ‘Follow him, Grim!’
Brother Kane said his fond farewells to the children of Mer Khazer and walked across the green. Grim followed him, heading down one of the streets that led back into town. The cleric crossed to a residential street, walked a bit farther on, then walked up a path to a house. He knocked on the door, waited a short while, then the door opened, and he was invited inside.
Grim walked up to the house and studied it. It was a nondescript, wattle and daub affair, just the same as the other houses all along the street. There was no plaque outside to tell them who lived there.
A couple walked past them.
‘Do you know who lives here?’ Grim asked them.
The couple walked on as if he hadn’t said a word.
‘Oh, I forgot about that damned amulet,’ said Grim. ‘Take it off will you, Og?’
The sudden appearance of a three-headed ogre from out of nowhere caused everyone in the vicinity to scream, turn around and run away. Everyone except one stern, older woman, who had the look of someone who’d seen a lot worse than magically appearing ogres. She approached them and began wagging her finger.
‘You’d better not be about to feast on those inside there,’ she warned. ‘My mother lives here!’
‘This is your mother’s house?’
‘It’s not her house. It’s a home for the elderly.’
Grim sighed. ‘So first he visits an orphanage, then an old people’s home. I think we’ve seen enough of Brother Kane to tick him off our list.’
Dog made a sceptical sounding grunt. ‘We just haven’t uncovered his dark secrets yet, that’s all.’
‘What now?’ Og asked. ‘We haven’t got very much out of following them all over town.’
Grim thought about it. ‘You’re right, Og. I think we need to go back to Urlay.’
‘The village that was attacked? What’s the point in going back there, Grim?’
‘I think we’re missing something. Some piece of evidence that we haven’t noticed.’
And with that, Grim began to march for Urlay.
GRIM SOLVES THE CASE
Grim knew they were close to solving the case. If you were to ask him why he was so committed to getting to the truth, he might have struggled to explain it. But one of the reasons, surely, was that no-one expected an ogre to do it. Ogres, it was generally agreed, were stupid brutes. Somewhere deep down, beneath his conscious thought, he wanted to prove them wrong.
He used human roads; he tracked across heath and moorland; retracing routes that the adventurers had taken on their way to and from dungeons. Beside him, Og and Dog had their heads covered. One slept, the other muttered incessantly, an endless stream of complaints that Grim easily ignored.
They slept in the open, each brother taking a turn at keeping watch, waking the next when it was his turn. Grim didn’t doubt that many eyes observed their progress, watching from dark places; high places; secret places. What mattered was that none impeded their progress, and in the end, he found himself walking down into the valley where the village of Urlay stood by the river.
‘You can take the bags off now,’ he said, and his brothers re-appeared, eyes screwed up as they adjusted to the sudden introduction of light.
They wandered past the first houses. Those nearest the river were the ones that had been attacked. Some had been left with minor damage: others, those where fire had taken hold, were little more than charred remains. Og-Grim-Dog inspected the buildings. Grim’s brothers were quiet, respecting the fact that they were looking at what had been people’s homes. But they found nothing. With a feeling of inevitability, Grim found himself returning to the inn. If they were going to find anything, it would be at The Crushed Grapes.
Dog pushed the door open.
‘No-one around,’ he muttered, and Grim entered the lounge area. It was quiet, not even a clanging from the kitchen this time. Would the folk of the village still be cowering down in the cellar? Well, if they were, they would hear Grim creaking the floorboards—there was no point in an ogre trying to be quiet.
Grim looked about, thinking. He walked over to the bar, and then around it, taking the step up to stand behind it. Here he could look out towards the front yard and the river.
Og reached for a tankard. ‘It’s fun back here. Imagine if we were a landlord, eh Grim?’
But Grim was still thinking. ‘The landlady. Betty. Said she looked out from behind the bar, and she caught a glimpse of the heads of the orcs. That’s when they all hid down in the cellar.’
‘You’ve got a good memory, Grim,’ said Dog, filling Og’s tankard for him.
‘I know we’re a good deal bigger than Betty,’ Grim continued. ‘But don’t you think she’d see a bit more than their heads from here?’
His brothers looked out to the river.
‘Maybe,’ Og conceded. ‘Hard to tell.’
Grim grunted in acknowledgement. He left the bar area, walked back to the middle of the lounge, and took a deep breath.
‘Hello?’ he shouted. ‘It’s Og-Grim-Dog here. The ogre from a few days back? You probably remember us. We mean you no harm. Is Betty about?’
There was the sound of movement from down below, and then a door being pushed open. Footsteps. Betty appeared from the direction of the kitchen.
‘What do you want?’ she asked suspiciously.
Somehow, Grim persuaded Betty to help them. But he needed more than just Betty, so she called to the children down in the cellar. They appeared, gawping at the three-headed ogre who stood in their home. Grim was pleased to see that they came in all shapes and sizes, from a toddler who only reached to his knees, to a girl who had reached the height of Betty.
Once they got going, the children started to enjoy the process. Grim had them march, one at a time, along the riverbank. As they did, Betty looked out from her position from behind the bar. Each time a child walked past, she told Og-Grim-Dog what she could see.
‘Top of Nath’s head. Lydia, shoulders and up. Nothing. Harry’s head.’
When it was done, the children were called back in. Grim thanked them. Og gave Betty a purse full of coin. The villagers of Urlay would need it more than them.
‘So, young Harry here was the height of the orcs you saw?’
‘Yes,’ said Betty, falteringly. ‘I’m sure of it, but it doesn’t make sense. He’s but twelve years old.’
‘And they were all the same size? Each one, it was just their head you could see?’
‘Aye. I can see it clearly, in my mind’s eye.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Dog, only now paying attention to Grim’s little experiment. ‘The orcs you saw were all this size?’ He put his hand parallel to the top of Harry’s head. The boy only came up to the ogre’s hip. ‘They weren’t no orcs, then. They were dwarves. But that means—’
‘Yes,’ said Grim. ‘It was Gurin.’
‘Dwarves did this?’ Betty asked. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure. But we’re going to go back to Mer Khazer now. Those dwarves have some questions to answer.’
‘Thank you. Here, let me get you something for the journey,’ she said, leaving for the kitchen. While they waited, Og and Dog gave the children rides. The children took turns sitting in the ogre’s great hands, who then shot their arms up at full speed, taking care not to slam the kids into the ceiling. Betty came back with a loaf of bread, a big slab of cheese and a little bag of vegetables.
Dog took the food, looking a little emotional at the gift. They said their goodbyes to the children of Urlay and Betty led them out of The Crushed Grapes.
Outside, Grim heard human voices. Out on the river, a group of barges were heading for the jetty. They were full of armed men.
‘Oh dear,’ said Betty. ‘It’ll be Deston, the reeve of Dorwich City. He has a fearsome reputation. I think you should go—quickly. They might not understand what you’re doing here.’
Sure enough, shouts of alarm and anger carried to them from the river, as the soldiers on the barges spotted the ogre with the woman.
‘Goodbye,’ said Og-Grim-Dog, before turning away and walking back through the village. Grim retraced their steps, passing the houses of the villagers one last time before beginning the climb up from the valley floor. The shouts of hostility from the river didn’t stop. Og looked back over his shoulder.
‘They’re getting off their boats,’ he said. ‘Looks like they’re going to chase us.’
‘Let them,’ said Dog. ‘I’m in the mood for a fight.’
‘There’s far too many, Dog,’ Grim chided. An idea suddenly struck him. ‘Put on Raya’s amulet, will you?’
Dog reluctantly did as he asked, and the ogre became both invisible and silent.
‘That should make following us a little more difficult,’ Grim said. He relaxed a little, concentrating on making the return journey to Mer Khazer.
THE REEVE OF MER KHAZER
Once more, Og-Grim-Dog found themselves passing through the gates of Mer Khazer. Their mood was sombre, because although they had liked Gurin the dwarf, they knew they had to confront him over his actions.
Grim had the time to think about their approach during the return journey from Urlay. Challenging Gurin alone, he decided, wasn’t a great idea. Gurin was a hot head, as was Dog, and the chances of violence would be high. He would prefer to avoid bloodshed. So, when they got back to The Bruised Bollocks, he called a meeting of Shove It Up Your Ass. Sandon and Raya helped him to fetch everyone, and it wasn’t long before the six of them were reunited in the tap room of The Bollocks.
‘What’s this all about?’ Assata asked. ‘Where have you been?’
‘It’s time to come clean. There was a reason we came to Mer Khazer,’ Grim began. ‘We aimed to find out why Darkspike Dungeon was being attacked so frequently by adventurers. We thought that joining your crew would help us to find the answers we were looking for. We felt like we were getting close to solving the puzzle. So we returned to Urlay,’ he added, finding it hard not to take a quick glance at Gurin’s troubled expression.
‘After finding this amongst our dungeon winnings,’ said Og, laying one of the orc swords on the table.
‘Another one?’ Sandon asked.
‘Yes. Same as this,’ said Dog, placing the second next to it.
‘You can see,’ Grim resumed, ‘that the blade has the broad-headed shape common to orc swords. But the hilt is quite different to orcish weapons, more skilfully crafted than you would expect from orcs. In Urlay, we conducted an experiment with the landlady of The Crushed Grapes. Betty. We identified the height of the ‘orcs’ that she had seen by the river.’
‘They were this high,’ said Dog, putting his hand to his hip. ‘Dwarf size.’
‘Alright,’ said Gurin. He wasn’t as angry as Grim had expected. There was an air of resignation about him. ‘I can see you’ve got all the evidence you need. It was us.’
‘Us?’ Assata asked.
‘Me, Hurin, Durin, Thurin, Kurin and Tony.’
‘We worked out it was you who attacked Urlay,’ said Grim. ‘I’m not sure why you did it, though.’
Gurin sighed. ‘The Bureau. We just got sick of it. All the rules and regulations. The last straw was when they started turning down applications to dungeons, saying they were too weak for a dungeon crawl. A dungeon full of monsters, and the Bureau is taking their side over its members? What kind of lunacy is that? Anyway. We found a way round the ban. If there were reports of bands of orcs targeting human settlements, the Bureau would open up the local dungeons.’
‘So you killed humans,’ said Raya, sounding angry, ‘so that you could keep killing orcs and goblins?’
‘Hang on now, Raya. We didn’t kill any humans.’
‘How do you know that? You fired their homes. If no-one died after what you did, it’s only out of luck.’
‘I know. When you put it like that, we did wrong. I see that.’
‘You saw those dungeons we visited,’ Sandon added. ‘Wight’s Hollow and the rest. You’ve just made the situation worse. More dungeons will be closed now, thanks to you.’
‘I know, wizard, I know. But I had one last hurrah, didn’t I? After all, dwarves aren’t even a race any more, according to the Bureau. We’ve been all but pushed out already. The life we knew, the world that meant everything to us, has been taken away. So what did I have to lose?’
Brother Kane gave Gurin a beatific smile and withdrew his vial of holy water. ‘I forgive you, my son.’
‘Never mind that,’ said Assata, slapping the cleric’s arm. ‘We’re handing this murderer in to the authorities. And the other five as well. You need to face justice for what you’ve done, Gurin.’
The dwarf didn’t argue. They took him to see the reeve of Mer Khazer, who was in charge of law and order in the town.
‘Hassletoff is a veteran adventurer himself,’ Sandon explained as they cut through the streets to the reeve’s office. Gurin walked with them, showing no signs of wishing to make a run for it, though Assata kept a hand near her sword hilt just in case. ‘Well respected by the community, we helped him to gain the office when he decided his adventuring days were done.’
Sandon knocked on the door of the reeve’s office and when it opened a halfling appeared. He appraised them coolly. Hassletoff was even smaller than Gurin, but he held himself with a relaxed kind of confidence. The sword at his belt gave him a serious look and his moustache made him look a little older than his boyish features would suggest by themselves.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ he said at last.
‘Indeed, Hassletoff,’ said Sandon sadly. The wizard proceeded to tell the reeve all that Gurin was accused of. When he was done, the halfling led the dwarf into his office and secured him in a locked cell.
‘You can leave him with me,’ he told them when he returned. ‘The justice system will soon get to work, and he’ll be given a fair trial.’
‘He has five accomplices,’ Assata told him. ‘All dwarves. They’re probably still in The Squished Plums. If you go now, you can get them while they’re all together.’
The reeve stroked at his moustache as he considered her words. ‘Very well. I’m making you my deputies. You’re coming with me.’
‘Wait a minute,’
said Og. ‘I’m not comfortable working for the rozzers.’
‘It’s not a request,’ the reeve responded sharply, no sign of feeling intimidated by the bulk of the ogre. ‘I have the authority to make anyone my deputy. I suggest you co-operate, unless you want to join Gurin in my cell.’
‘Do we get a badge?’ asked Dog hopefully.
The reeve ordered Og-Grim-Dog into The Squished Plums. Alone. The others were positioned around the building, covering any possible exit. Og wasn’t happy that they were the ones sent in to do the dirty work. Dog was excited about seeing some action. Grim just wanted it over with. For while he supposed that the dwarves did deserve to be punished, he didn’t want to kill anyone.
Grim ran inside, heading for the table where he had met the dwarves the other day. He was lucky. All five were seated around the table, drinks in front of them. Although Gurin had introduced them to him, Grim had no idea which dwarf was which: he couldn’t even remember their names. One of them puffed on a pipe, while the others appeared to be in the midst of some complaint-filled conversation, their brows furrowed with discontent.
Grim didn’t slow, getting to the table before the dwarves realised what was happening. Dog reached over and grabbed one of them, lifting him into the air. Og picked up a second.
‘Help!’ shouted the dwarf who dangled in Dog’s grip. ‘Hurin, help me!’
The three remaining dwarves stared wide-eyed with shock for a split second, before they leapt from their chairs. One of them approached Grim and kicked him in the shins with his heavy boot.
‘Ow!’ Grim complained. It was painful and he was more than a little annoyed.
The dwarf kicked him again, in the same spot.
‘Look!’ Grim demanded. ‘Kicking me isn’t going to make Og or Dog release your friends, is it?’
The dwarf made a confused face.
Og-Grim-Dog- the Three-Headed Ogre Page 10
