“You’re too arrogant and talkative for a goblin.”
“But not when I’m working,” I answered calmly.
“I saw. You pulled well, although I certainly wouldn’t call you a big man.” Morris nodded. “You can stay, Eleven. Just don’t get in our way. We won’t take responsibility for you, but none of us will hurt you.” He pierced the thug with a glare that hit the woman as well. “Or give you any trouble. Our brigade needs people who work hard.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. “We’ll wait over by the wall.”
“We?”
“We,” I looked at Ninety-One, who was still mumbling. “She put in a lot of work too.”
“Fine.”
The conversation was over. Without looking at the thug or the woman, I turned and walked away with a deliberately brisk step.
“Can’t get it dirty... How do I keep it clean... I don’t even have anything to carry it in... Stupid...”
“Hey.”
“Huh?” she started, looked around, and realized that the goblin herd had long since left, heading back towards the outskirts they called home. “Oh...”
That innocent, girlish exclamation made me take a closer look at her. That bruise covered half her face, but the other half was quite pretty. Needed a good scrub, of course, but she was still beautiful. If you gave her five showers, brushed her knotted hair, and put her in some nice clothes, she wouldn’t even need makeup. But that’s not what I said to her.
“They said we can stay here and haul again in a few hours. Come on, go bow to our kind masters! Thank them for showing such mercy!”
“What? Why the hell are you making decisions for me? I was planning to work again, anyway...”
“This way we won’t have to waste our energy walking back and forth,” I explained.
She winced.
“But we might run into a wayward plux here! Just picture your guts spilled out on the floor! That’ll teach you!”
“Why my guts?” I asked. “I didn’t put in a good word for you for nothing. You’ll thank me by protecting me.”
“Very funny!” She muttered and, still not knowing what to do with the t-shirt, laid down and curled up around it. She didn’t say anything else.
I decided to leave her be. I sat down next to her and took off my hard-earned sandals and t-shirt, examining them carefully. I wanted to figure out what my waker had meant when she said I’d understand how stingy the brigade that hired us was.
I found my answer right away. There were markings on the shoes and shirt — incredible markings.
A vertical arrow with lush feathers and a graceful flat arrowhead, entwined in ivy. Next to that was a column inscribed with: ‘Humanitarian aid from above.’
How interesting.
But the key word was ‘humanitarian.’ I knew a nice synonym for that word: free. Gifted. Given away. It didn’t take a genius to realize the Solar Flame Brigade most likely got these sandals and t-shirts for free. But we goblins had to practically break our backs just to get these clothes and shoes. We were free labor for the brigade.
I did my best impression of a vile goblin cackle. “Everyone’s cheating us...”
Ninety-One shot me a surprised glance from her black eye. But she didn’t say anything, just stayed where she was, curled up around the t-shirt. It was the time to break down her barrier.
“So who’s the shirt for? Tell me about her,” I said, looking around at the mechanisms in the room and the watchful guards pacing around them.
“Huh?” Ninety-One twitched, then sat up and stared at me. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“Don’t play dumb, goblin, or I’ll kick your bad elbow!”
“More threats,” I sighed, scooting a little farther away from her. “Can’t we have a normal conversation?”
“We can.”
“What’s your name?”
“Did you forget how to read numbers?”
“That’s your name?”
“Yorka.”
“Huh?” I asked in surprise. “Yorka?”
“It’s a perfectly fine name.”
“Did you make it up?”
“What, do you think my parents did? What a stupid question.”
“Yorka... so who’s the bitch you’re bringing the shirt to?”
“How did you know?”
“It wasn’t hard to guess. You were practically praying over that t-shirt. Mumbling about delivering it safe and sound. And I doubt you’d be so worried about your own t-shirt, since you can just wash your clothes.”
“But how did you know it was a she, not a he?”
“You were way too worried about getting it dirty. You were afraid to touch it, even. If it was for a man, he’d probably check to make sure it was new and didn’t have holes in it, but he definitely wouldn’t be looking for tiny stains.”
“Because all men are dirty pigs?”
“Why do you say that? Take me, for instance. I’m a goblin, not a pig.”
