Would the dark lords have enough power to do that?
Or would surprise be enough?
“Roger,” Hilario said, “Have you been training? Training for something big?”
The ogre scratched at his insubstantial chin.
“Merhaps,” he said, “Things beens busy. Mights haves seen a things or twos.”
“Such as?”
Roger looked off to the horizon. Toward the Twilight Star.
“Bads things a coming,” he said, “Bads evens for here.”
Oh dear.
Hilario’s knees trembled.
“What sort of bad things, Roger?” Hilario said.
Roger opened his mouth.
Metal slammed behind Hilario. The van’s side door.
He slipped the amulet into a hidden pocket. Turned to face the Sapphire Witch again.
She stepped out of the van. Perfectly composed, her long, leather coat already buttoned up. She turned her brass rimmed goggles to Hilario. He ducked his head. Tightened up his mental shields. How far into minds could she see?
Probably not too far. He’d already be dead if she could.
Odom the Paladin stood outside the van. He stretched his heavily muscled, iron gray body. Copious amounts of muscle flexed and popped. There probably wasn’t a single ounce of fat anywhere on Odom’s body. Every fiber of him was dedicated to the efficient commitment of violent acts.
When he wasn’t spending horizontal time with a certain gem witch, that is.
Odom drew his massive sword from the scabbard strapped to his back. He scanned the skies.
“Where did the ogres go?” he boomed. He looked down the length of the barge. “Ah ha!”
Poop.
Odom leapt to the end of the barge, his sword flashing in the ruddy light.
Hilario jumped in front of Roger. Held his hands up and hoped Odom didn’t cleave him in half to get to the ogre.
“Stop!” he shouted, “He’s our prisoner!”
Odom dropped to the deck with a bone rattling clang. He held his sword over his head.
“Prisoner?”
Hilario swallowed hard. Put on a smile. Again, probably lost under his greasepaint.
“Yes. Prisoner,” he said, “He’s sort of on our side now. He wants to help. Don’t you Roger?”
Roger shrugged. “I’s fors the sides thats doesn’ts kills me’s,” Roger said.
Hilario went over to Roger. Gave him a one armed hug. Tried not to gag at the rotten cabbage smell of him.
“See, isn’t that great?” Hilario said, “He’s seen the error of his ways and wants to join the side of right. Which is, of course, your side, isn’t that correct Odom?”
Odom seemed a bit puzzled, but he lowered his sword.
“He seems small for an Ogre,” he said.
Roger looked up from his toenail gnawing. “Runts I’s be’s,” he said, “Lest thats whats I gets tolds.”
Odom’s mighty silver brows furrowed.
“Runt? No, no, no, you’re not a runt,” Odom said, “You’re just a different size. Don’t listen to those other beasts. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Beings of different size are just as capable as anyone else.”
Roger waved his knobby fingered hands in the air. “Thats whats I says, buts no ones listens to me’s,” he said.
Odom gripped his sword. Stared off into the distance as the muscled bunched along his jaw.
“I could make them listen,” he said through clenched teeth.
Hilario stepped away from them. The immediate danger looked to be past. Odom and Roger seemed to be bonding. Strangely enough.
He gathered his courage and headed for the van, his floppy clown shoes slapping the deck with each step.
The Sapphire Witch stood, arms folded over her chest, her face pointed his way. How was he going to do this? Confronting her seemed like a bad plan. She had enough power to crush him when she was in the normal world. Here, in her own realm…
“Dear Lady,” Hilario said, “I have grateful for your presence. The ogres must have been frightened off by your mighty powers.”
She turned her head to Marco. Who was still holding Queezleyan by the scruff of its neck.
Marco looked to Hilario with a clear what should I do look on his face.
Hilario gave Queezleyan a narrow eyed look. One that hopefully reminded the little rat demon of Hilario’s earlier blackmail.
“Ah, Detective Marco and Queezleyan were just having a little fun playing cards, weren’t you?” Hilario said, “Go ahead, put our good friend Queezleyan down now, Detective Marco,” Hilario said.
Marco arched an eyebrow, but slowly lowered the rat demon to the deck. Queezleyan scampered around behind the Sapphire Witch’s legs. Stuck a forked tongue out at them.
Hilario glanced to the van. Larry still sat with his face near the windshield. He shook his ghostly head.
What was that supposed to mean? No what?
“You are smarter than I have given you credit for, clown,” the Sapphire Witch said, “Perhaps the doddering old mages in the coven were not so foolish, after all.”
Hilario clasped his gloved hands together. A tension filled the air. The air almost crackled with it.
“My lady?” he said, “I am just a simple entertainer. Who has a regular streak of bad luck.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it?”
The air seemed to vibrate. A sound like distant thunder rolled over the barge. Was the ruddy sky darkening?
“My lady?” he said.
“What you call bad luck,” she said, “Might only be justice finding you over and over again.”
From over a ridge of black rock, the horde exploded. Leathern wings beat the air. Battle cries pierced the hot, sulfurous air. Light glinted off armor and weapons.
Oh. Poop.
43
Justice is a funny kind of concept.
It seems simple on the surface: Fair and impartial treatment, regardless of station or status.
But what most people really want it to mean?
You’re going to get what’s coming to you, jerk!
Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.
Seldom was justice applied in a fair or evenhanded sort of manner. Unseen world, normal world, it didn’t really matter. Those with the most
