Chapter 8

“Don’t we need an escort?” Intern asked as Jack stepped off the pool deck into the gardens.

“You are required to have an escort,” Jack said, looking back at his charge. “I’ve earned my merit badge in orienteering in the Twilight Lands, giving me the freedom to navigate by myself.

“Stop feeding him auroch crap, Jack,” a dwarf elf woman said, emerging from between the palm fronds. “He’s already sweating fear and the sun hasn’t hit the pool yet.”

“Good morning to you, Slurpee-Do,” Jack said with formal bow. “Your gardens look lovely this morning.”

“You can shitcan that pile of officious nonsense too, Jack,” Slurpee said. “You gave us that one,” she was pointing at Intern, “and while he’s got potential, he is more effort than magic at this initial stage. He could stand with the toddlers, but I don’t have a beef with him. Hatha believes he will act the good boy.

“You, however, are a laundry list of disappointments this morning,” Slurpee said with her arms crossed.

Jack leaned on his walking stick, waiting.

“Ralph,” she began but Jack cut her off.

“I was off to visit with Ralph when you interrupted us,” Jack said.

“That infantile ingrate burnt ten hectares of prime real estate yesterday. I don’t what from the gods’ bounty he ate, but that bloated shitheel wiped out a field of curdy-poppies with a fart from the bowels of human hell. Curdy-poppies, the crop was a week away from harvest. Do you know how much of our yearly income is dependent upon that harvest?”

“I imagine we are going to have a lot of angry shamans voicing their displeasure,” Jack said. “I don’t think I bought futures in that crop.”

“You didn’t because you can’t. Curdy-poppies are one of the regulated substances, banned from the likes of you,” Slurpee said, “and that is not the point. You should have gotten rid of Ralph weeks ago, especially after what he did to the last intern, the poor woman. Like any other man who thinks with his dick, you hemmed and hawed when a decisive decision was required.”

“I was required by the contract with his aunt to follow a specific set of corrective actions,” Jack said. “I’m ready to summon Ralph’s aunt today if necessary.”

“She better not eat any of my regular customers,” Slurpee said. “These revenue streams are not always stable, especially after the loss yesterday.”

“How is Berks?” Jack asked, trying to change the subject quickly. “Did she get hurt yesterday?”

“She singed chunks of the hair on her head,” Slurpee said. “She panicked. I am disappointed.”

“Well, if I can offer any insight, I would be panicked in the presence of a farting dragon too,” Jack said.

“All men are,” Slurpee said. “You think fart jokes are funny and then you think we women should find your fart jokes funny too. Do you know what farts are, Jack?” She was on a roll. “Farts are a mark of failure. Your body was unable to convert the gods’ gifts into magic and had to expel the noxious failure. Farts are not funny; they are a sad indictment of a body’s failure to make magic.”

“I thought they were part of the natural process of digestion,” Jack said.

“Only in the human lands, Jack, and I know for a fact that most human women don’t hold fart jokes in high regard either. Males think with their dicks.”

“Or their assholes in this case,” Jack said.

“Not funny,” Slurpee said. “Don’t try to humor me, today. You added nothing to the magic last night; you have no right to say anything today.”

“Um, I got an earful from Soren yesterday,” Jack said when Slurpee cut him off with a jab of her hand.

“I’ve heard his lament one time too many,” Slurpee said. “Each should fuck his own kind and all that crap. Who else can fuck a centaur but another centaur? The racism is built into their bones, Jack. Why would you listen to him?”

“I respect his opinion?”

“Only on horses,” Slurpee said before spitting on the ground. “Your contract with the folk is to make magic, Jack. Sending this one,” she said, pointing to Intern, “does not fulfill the obligations. If he succeeds, he will have his own contract to negotiate.”

“Fine,” Jack said, holding up his hands as if to quell the tempest. “I hear you loud and clear.”

“Don’t you try to placate me, Jack,” she said. “I am not one of those women on the front desk list and if any of my daughters are, I’m taking them off until I can trust you again. I want my own eyes and ears when you talk to Ralph today. You owe us for yesterday’s disaster and last night. I’m sending Scoobee with you.”

Jack rubbed his head like a migraine was starting to bloom.

“What’s the matter, Jack, you don’t like firm, uplifted bazoombas?”

“I like Scoobee and I like her bazoombas, Slurpee,” Jack said. “She’s a bit flighty is the problem. I’m trying to get stuff done and she is usually climbing all over me. I’ve got to deal with Ralph, you know?”

“You are going to take two minutes with Ralph and then you are going to summon his aunt,” Slurpee said. “Today is no-brainer, Jack, if you use your big head instead of your small head.”

As if on cue, Scoobee appeared at Slurpee’s side. She gave a lopsided grin and a small wave with her fingers. With a nod from her mother, she crossed the divide and took a hand of each of the men. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’m so excited to go to the Back Forty today. I hardly ever get to go.”

“Great, today will be a treat, then,” Jack said, trying to shift gears without showing the struggle.

“Oh, there are going to be lots of treats today, Jack,” she said with a giggle. “Momma promised. Can I ride on your shoulders?”

“Not until we get to the Back Forty, Scoobee. Intern has never been this way and he needs someone to guide him.”

Scoobee dropped Jack’s hand. “I will teach you, Intern,” she said with defiance in her voice. “I have not lost an intern; none of the Do’s have and today shall not be the first.”

“Okay,” Intern said, not quite sure what to make of the declaration.

With Jack leading the way, they began their procession through the formal gardens. Jack was not in the mood to take the scenic route. He remembered to take a breath and refocus his attention on his surroundings before he stormed off and did something stupid. Slurpee may act sweet and chill to everyone else, but she was canker sore as far as Jack was concerned.

He led them up the hillock and through the gate of the gods with its carved dragons. “What is this doorway?” Intern asked.

“The folk say the gods used this gate to flood the lands with magic,” Jack said. “This land was once like the human lands, only less conducive to life. The locals say the dragon carvings are a simple glyph signifying that the dragons are responsible for taking care of the gate, but it has been nonfunctional for many, many generations. When the gods left, they closed the gate, leaving behind a stone skeleton of it to remind the folk of their gods and their deeds. Nowadays, the folk are responsible for maintaining and promoting the magic in these lands. No more magic will come through the gates to aid them. The local dwarf elf shaman told me the tale.”