Chapter 3

“What is that?” Intern whispered, as he looked over Jack’s shoulder.

“Soren Kicking-Guard, meet the new intern,” Jack said.

“Ah, hello puny human intern,” Soren said. “You look just as small and insignificant as the other interns. Keep your trap shut and you might learn something.”

“How’s your back, Soren,” Jack asked as he ran a practiced eye across the length of the barn.

“My back is a work of art,” Soren said. “I never knew how many ways my bones could cause me pain in new and interesting forms. The creator god must have been jerking off in the corner when he created the centaur. Trying to ram a horse’s spine up a primate’s body and making it last for a lifetime was a fool’s errand. My father warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

“Sorry to hear,” Jack said. “How’s the wife?”

“Oo, with a big swinging set of knockers, her back is worse than mine.” Soren said. “If we sit on our hind legs, we can manage the pain better, but our hips cramp and ache from the unnatural position after a while. We heard a rumor about a new device based on the back braces you apes use when you have a bad back. They’ll probably charge me a hoof and fetlock for one. We’ll see.”

“If both you and your wife are having difficulties, who is running the ranch?” Jack asked.

“My eldest daughter,” Soren said. “Martane High-Digger is already known on the rodeo circuit as a tough, committed competitor. I have the utmost confidence in her abilities to run the ranch. Meanwhile, the wife is sending the youngest daughter down here to the resort to work with me. She has still got a lot of filly in her and could use the discipline of a horse whip or two.”

“I didn’t know centaurs were into that sort of thing,” Jack said. “I learn something new every day.”

“Wait until I put that horse whip in your hand, Jack. You are going to learn a whole lot of new,” Soren said as he roared with laughter. “Uh, Jack, your intern is turning bright red and panting. I think he might be hyperventilating.”

“He’s an intern; it’ll pass,” Jack said. “How many horses are good for trail riding today? I think we have ten reservations for the 10:30 ride.”

“I already traded messages with Danica. I have twelve prepared to take the trail today,” Soren said. “The shaman explained to me twice what he fed the last stud horse you sent over, but damn if I could understand what all he said. The bottom line is we have more pregnant mares than we anticipated, and I have no idea how that horny bastard climbed over the fences to knock them up. Maybe the shaman gave him wings. We will be tight for slots this season, but you are going to make bank on the one-year foals. He put many a centaur to shame, I tell you, a high-powered procreating machine.”

The centaur looked over at Intern. “I am explaining I had horses fucking day and night in the pasture and in the barn for weeks, Intern. He had a big horse dick, longer than your arm. You think you can handle that, or are you going to faint on us?”

Jack shrugged when Intern said nothing. “I have a number of issues to address this morning, Soren, and yet I also have an intern to train. I would like to keep this one intact and moving through the program. Perhaps, you could assign one of your assistants to show him through the barns and explain how this part of the operation works. I would appreciate the effort.”

“You must have really screwed the pooch if you’re asking politely,” Soren said. “Mawdlyn, stop eavesdropping and get your keester up here,” he yelled towards the back. “She is one of the new passel of orcs we hired last week. She was in a sorry state. We put some meat on her bones all week, and she is raring to go, grateful too.”

The young orc walked forward with her chin up and her canines gleaming. She stopped in front of the centaur and nodded her head. “What do you need, sir?”

“Mawdlyn, I’m Jack.”

Mawdlyn interrupted him, jumping up and down excitedly. “Jack? The Jack?” You’ve come to get me? Is it my turn tonight?”

Jack rubbed his temples. “Mawdlyn, your charms are apparent for all to see. However, you are new and need some more time to recover from your trials and tribulations. You also need to prove yourself. This human behind me is our new intern at the resort, and he needs to be taught everything about the barns, the horses, the unicorns, and what we do here. Today is his first day, so please do not break him. No hanky-panky. You are also responsible for escorting him back to the main building when you are done. His name is Intern and Soren will explain further. Do you understand?”

“No hanky-panky,” she said, kicking away the hay laying on the ground. “I’ll be a good girl.”

“Start him in the tack room, girl,” Soren said, pointing his thumb backward. He watched Mawdlyn and Intern disappear in the back before turning to Jack. “What is the ‘shit hitting the fan’ problem, now?”

“You remember that Arab prince that tried to fuck a wood elf a few weeks ago?” Jack said.

“Yeah, he was a massive hemorrhoid waiting to burst and bleed out.”

“After his father saw the curse the wood elves whacked him with and how it is not going away, he began threatening a religious jihad against us,” Jack said. “He could do it.”

“A strong threat requires a strong response, Jack” Soren said, rubbing his chin. “You may want to consider sending a jackal after the family. A jackal is a huge, blunt instrument, but it gets the job done.”

“Huge, blunt instruments come with a bucket full of consequences, Soren. One of those consequences may be adding fuel to the jihadi fire. I mean, killing people is usually considered poor problem solving. I’m concerned that magic doesn’t have the solution we need to get the best resolution.”

“I can see your point,” Soren said. “You need a human solution. You need to hire one of those truly evil, slimy bastards you humans raise up and train for years. What are they called?”

“Lawyers?”

“No, we’ve got the lying-tongue money grabbers here too, usually dark elves,” Soren said. “You guys send these humans to other countries to assassinate people with long speeches and huge tomes of wordy non-promises.”

“Oh, you mean diplomats,” Jack said. “The Twilights Lands have few of those, except for the ogres. Maybe we should get some of them. You’ve given me the first original idea I’ve had on the subject. Thank you.”

“Add it to your ‘You are in my debt’ list, “ Soren said. “What else is on the feasting plate?”

“Have you talked to Ralph lately?”

“No,” Soren said. “I’m not going to talk to him either. The lazy fat toad can fend for himself as far as I’m concerned. Everything is a trial and trauma with him. He moans like an old man sitting constipated on the shitter. He smells like it, too. Where is his dignity and his hygiene? Even the ogres are offended, and we know how little they care about worldly affairs. Sorry, I can’t help you with that problem.”