Donk’s voice, when he spoke, was so deep and loud that the ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet. “You can take your good sirs and shove it up your—”

  The big ogre was silenced by an elbow nudge from Tonk. The smaller ogre was considering Norris with calculating eyes. Tiller could see the wheels turning and could appreciate the logic that must be dawning. Yes, they were ogres, inherently bigger and more dangerous than many races. Yes, Donk was a stone rank and his class and rank would make him formidable. But opposite them stood a stone-banded assassin, a combat class. Let aside the fact that they could assume Norris would be backed up by the stone-banded Tiller, it was unlikely they would fare well against Norris with his class and sigils designed specifically for the taking of lives.

  Tonk spoke, a little less aggressively. “Why not let us have a look here, eh? If there’s nothing to hide.”

  Norris looked aghast, maybe a little too aghast, “My fine fellow, perish the thought. My comrade here poured his heart and soul into the testament to nature you perceive before you. How could I possibly sanction the violation of the fruits of his labors.”

  Tonk screwed up an eyebrow. Tiller too examined the burial mound. Yes, he’d gone to some efforts to transplant bushes and wildflowers to the mound in an effort to disguise its shape. Still, he could hardly call it horticultural art.

  Tonk said, “You don’t say… Here’s the problem though. You know, and we know, what’s under this heap. And I figure if you didn’t have under this heap what I know you have under this heap then you’d be willing to disrupt it just a little to put an end to the trouble between us. What do you say to that.”

  Norris continued with feigned confusion, “My boy, my good fellow, I can hardly admit to comprehending the meaning of your words. Certainly, as it seems to me, you can’t very well know that the object of your suspicions lies beneath your feet. Or, rather, should I say, your father hardly takes this to be a point of certainty. If that were the case I would venture we’d be facing more than just two of you. No. Rather, I postulate that you are of the wholehearted, and I am sorry to say, utterly misguided assumption alone. I for one rather doubt that your prodigious kinsman here is of the same persuasion. I would imagine that it is his deficit of intellect that has lent himself to being guided into this most awkward of positions.”

  Donk’s frown continuously deepened as Norris spoke. “What’s he sayin’?”

  Tonk said, “He’s calling you stupid.”

  Donk growled, a deep rumble like a landslide. Tiller noted, however, that the big ogre took not so much as a single step towards the goblin.

  Tonk’s gaze shifted from Norris to Tiller then back again. “I don’t think you’d gut me for digging a bit of a hole right here. Considering the trouble that would bring down on you and all.”

  The smaller ogre leaned on the shovel and the blade sank a couple of inches into the soil.

  Faster than Tiller could follow, a long cruel dagger was suddenly in Norris’s hand. One moment he had been standing, seeming at ease, the next instant he was casually picking at his fingernails. The dagger pulsed with faint green light and Tiller wondered that the goblin wasn’t in danger of poisoning himself.

  Tonk froze, as though he had just uncovered an angry snake. Donk took a full step back.

  Norris said, “I am sure your father would understand the need to defend one’s property. The good man is a landowner himself, and needs must. Besides…”

  Norris fixed them both with a leer that was monstrous and chilling. “I wouldn’t need to, as you said, gut you at all…”

  The savagery of Norris’s expression conveyed a deep and terrible desire for violence. It was a hunger. Both ogres could see that hunger. Even Tiller, nominally on the same side as the assassin, felt a chill.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Tonk lifted the shovel slowly from the earth and took a step back to be closer to his towering brother. “This won’t ever be sorted till we see what’s under this fucking mound.”

  Norris sighed, the serial killer mask shifting to one of regretful sorrow, “Then, regrettably, I fear this will never be sorted.”

  Tonk spat on the ground. “Ye killed our kin. I know ye did it. I’ll prove it yet. And when I do, Pa and the whole clan will get our own back.”

  Norris fluttered his eyelids. “My good boy, I know only too well what it means to lose a family member. I know as well, the distortion that grief can have upon the faculties. But rest assured, if you dig here, you will find only earth.”

  Tonk sneered, and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His face was an ocean of frustration as he turned to his brother. “Come on. Not today, Donk. Some other day.”

  The ogres turned and walked out onto the white. As they departed, Reader crept out of the hut to join Norris and Tiller.

  Tiller said, “Holy shit, I’m glad you were here. I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t.”

  Norris watched the ogres walking away, his voice distant, “My boy, then they would have dug that hole and after that they would have consumed your flesh until there was nothing left.”

  Tiller swallowed hard. Reader was pale.

  After another few moments, Norris said, “I do appreciate your accommodating me during my mourning. But perhaps… well perhaps it’s time we formalized my employment…”

  Saying no more, Norris ambled away, leaving the two men alone.

  Reader said, “I missed the start of that, but I was listening at the end. To tell the truth, I think I’d have preferred to miss all of it. We’re really in a lot of trouble here.”

  Tiller stared at the retreating figures. “Yup. But we knew that already. Damn, but we need that composter and we need it soon.”

  Reader said, “What about… moving the body?”

  Tiller shook his head slowly, “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve been thinking about that since the moment I buried him. The white’s the problem. And the size of him. Can you imagine trying to haul what, three hundred pounds? Four hundred pounds? Of dead, decaying ogre for miles across the white without being spotted. Tonk’s convinced we killed him. His dad mightn’t be certain, but I bet he suspects it. Do you think nobody’s watching us?”

  Reader paled a little further. “Jesus, it’s like we’re under siege.”

  Tiller said, “Not quite. But I don’t see a way to get the body out of here unless, maybe, you’ve got those carts working.”

  Reader grimaced. “Not yet. I’m getting places, but I doubt I could have one working faster than we could get the composter.”

  “Regretting joining up?” Tiller asked with a thin smile.

  Reader paused, then said, “You know… not really. Don’t get me wrong, I am completely terrified of this burgeoning feud with the ogres, but I like it here. Like being with you guys, other humans. And Norris, and Maeve. Pod not so much, but even he’s better company than Grim.”

  Tiller chuckled, “Yeah… he’s definitely an acquired taste. I thought there was something you could do with his rules to make him a little less… um…”

  Reader finished for him. “Horrible? Yeah, I’m working on that.”

  “To the matter at hand, I had a thought.”

  Reader said, “Oh, yeah?”

  Tiller said, “I need to add it all up, but I think between what Cutter’s earned so far and what I expect to get from my next harvest, we’ll have enough for the composter. Only barely though, and it might require a little compromise.”

  Reader said, “Compromise?”

  Tiller held up his hands. “Listen, I don’t want to go messing with your dynamics. There’s three of us, and we go by the rule of the vote. But if it meant, you know, not getting murdered by a clan of ogres, I was thinking, maybe we could all agree to skip the salary that Cutter’s so set on. Just until we have the composter.”

  Reader stiffened. “Oh, he wouldn’t like that.”

  Tiller said, “I know. And I’m not talking about cancelling it permanently. Just not drawing it down until we have the composter bought. A few days.”

  Reader seemed distracted. He wanted the danger gone. But he felt Tiller was playing him.

  Tiller snapped an angry glance at the sky. “Hey, I’m not playing you. I swear, I won’t oppose drawing salaries, but just waiting until after we get the composter. We’re playing with our lives here. And when Cutter gets back, I think we’ll have to impress on him the need to hang around for a few days. Norris was enough to discourage those two, but if they came back with more, or save us, some fighting-class ogres, we’d be ground meat. So he’ll need to hang around. That means, one, he won’t be able to go out and earn more which limits our finances to what we’ve got already and what we aim to make from the harvest and, two, he won’t be able to go to Medley which was the whole point of the salary anyway.”

  Reader said, “He’s going to hate all of that.”

  Tiller nodded, “He might. He will in fact. But for all the bravado and ‘this is all a dream’ and ‘where’s Anissa Kate’ he’s a practical guy. Right now, we need him here. If they come back again him and Norris might be all that stands between us and death.”

  Reader swallowed. But he nodded in the affirmative. Then, “So what now?”

  Tiller chewed his lip. “Well I guess first thing’s first, I take care of the plants. Then maybe, I should think about paying a visit to the head of the ogre clan.”