“Didn’ts says dids I?” Roger said, “It be Igdibon the Terrible.”
Igdibon? He racked his mind for information about that lord. Every lord had some sort of description after his name. The Terrible. The Horrible. The Mean. Sometimes they went to war because some other lord was using their description. Two lords had fought for a hundred years for the privilege of who got to be called The Crusher of Souls.
Funny, he couldn't remember who ended up with that moniker.
Igdibon, though, what about him?
Nothing.
“Is Igdibon one of the newer lords?” Hilario asked.
Roger puffed himself up. “He’s be dones a lots,” the ogre said, “Mades a names for hisself, he has.”
Ah. Yes, one of the newer ones. They tended to come and go. There was quite a bit of turnover in the dark lord business, what with all the constant killing and back stabbing and all.
Hilario glanced back at the van. Marco and the six-tailed rat demon, Queezleyan had sat themselves in front of it and seemed to be playing some sort of card game. At least Marco had stopped trying to kill himself. For the moment.
“So, Roger, how did Igdibon know where to find me?” he asked.
The ogre shrugged. “Hows I’s to knows?” he said, “Orders we gets to be’s flyin’ the fires rivers. Flies we goes. Don’ts be askin’ whys, less yous needs a flayin’.”
Igdibon knew they would be on the river Phlegethon. He’d sent his ogres to intercept them. Not to fight. Not to kill.
At least not Hilario.
“What were your instructions, Roger?” Hilario asked, “In regard to this particular mission?”
Roger gave him a funny look as he picked his teeth with one of his long, ragged toenails.
“Orders? We was to grabs yous up and flies you back to Igdibon Keep,” the ogre said.
“Just me?”
“Just yous,” Roger said.
Hilario clenched his trembling hands together.
“What about the others? What were you supposed to do with the others?” Hilario said.
Roger leaned back on his knobby elbows. Gave Hilario a long, measured look.
“Orders was to gets yous. Alives,” Roger said, “Was no orders ‘bout others.”
Which meant kill or ignore. Up to the ogre’s discretion.
Contrary to their reputation, ogres weren’t all that warlike. They were mostly solitary creatures who preferred to live in the woods.
But, being big and strong and generally mean looking, meant they frequently got conscripted in whatever army the latest dark lord was forming.
And they did only as much fighting as they were ordered to do. So if Roger and his ogre buddies had been ordered to grab Hilario and run, that’s what they would have done. They would have only killed if they were attacked.
Odom the Paladin had been ready to attack.
But then he and the Sapphire Witch had gotten into yet another argument.
If Hilario hadn’t bedazzled the ogre’s minds, what would have happened? Would they have snatched him up and flown him off to Igdibon Keep? And left the others?
What would have the Sapphire Witch done then?
Gone back home and told Lady Alexandrite, whups, Hilario got stolen by ogres, my bad?
But probably not before dumping Hilario’s van–with Larry and Marco in it–into the fiery river.
Hilario bit his lip. Clenched his hands into fists. Backstabbing was a way of life in the unseen world. It was unusual when someone wasn’t maneuvering to stab you in the back. But he’d expect a gem witch to behave with more honor than that. Especially with something as precious as the normal world at stake.
What had the dark lords promised her?
Maybe it was time to ask.
He rolled over to his knees and struggled to his feet. His knees protested the sudden application of weight to them. He almost unlocked a sliver of power to lighten himself. Stopped himself. Maybe a magic sniffer hadn’t located him. But why take the chance? Using light energy in this place would stick out like a sore thumb no matter what. Even a non magic sniffer would be attracted to it.
He looked down at Roger the Ogre. Who was scratching behind his cauliflower ears with his knobby toed feet.
“Say, Roger,” he said, “How far away is Igdibon Keep from here?”
Roger stopped his scratching and gave him a narrow eyed look. “Whys? Yous plans a visits?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
The ogre put his feet down and sat up straighter. “Bads ideas,” he said. “Don’ts thinks Lord Igdibon bees wants you for tea and cookies.”
“How far, Roger?”
Roger got to his gnarled feet. Faced the front of the barge. Squinted and pointed down the river.
“Sees thats black rocks theres?” Roger said.
Hilario looked. All he saw were block rocks.
“Is there a specific black rock I’m looking for?”
Roger hopped up and down. His arm pointed off into the distance. Which was full of black rocks, too.
“The big one. Pointing up to the Twilight Star,” he said.
Hilario scanned the horizon. Found the Twilight Star. A bright point of light in the perpetual blood-red sky. He ran his sight down below it. Found a thick finger of black sticking up from the horizon.
“Okay, I see it,” Hilario said.
“That’s not Igdibon Keep,” Roger said.
Hilario blew out a sigh from his nostrils.
“What am I looking at then?”
“The Eye of Malachi,” Roger said, “Wes comes through it. Igdibon Keeps be on the other side.”
The Eye of Malachi?
“How could a dark lord be using the Eye of Malachi?” Hilario said, “That’s old magic.”
Roger grinned. Flashed his mouthful of jagged, sharp teeth.
“Lord Igdibon’s gots connections he does,” Roger said.
Hilario stared at the black finger on the horizon.
“I bet he does,” he said, “I’m thinking of one right now.”
He spun around and started toward the still rocking van.
40
Detective Marco and Queezletyan looked up as Hilario approached.
