“Then why the hell are we here? We already proved that we’re hard-working goblins! Let’s show our faces again. They’ll give us a place! Maybe they’ll even feed us! Aren’t you hungry?”
“We’re not hauling again.” I snapped, staring at Yorka with false sternness. “Are you questioning the head goblin’s orders?”
“Pff! Blow up and die, goblin. Blow up and die!”
“You really have a way with words.” I smiled sincerely, got up, and headed towards Morris. “Let’s go.”
“Those are the same bodyguards, Elb. One of them is the guy you fought with.”
“I know. That’s why I waited — I wanted the latest bloody news to reach their ears. See the two with clubs staring at us? They already know who we are.”
“Well, all the more reason not to go over there! We’re goblin killers! We’re dangerous! They won’t even talk to us!”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I replied quietly. “Not a single peaceful goblin was killed today. They were disgusting, bloodsucking parasites. Nobody likes their kind. Plus, the brigade will be flattered that such tough and fearless people like us want to work for them. It’s in their best interest to have a fair, mutually beneficial relationship with us.”
“Why?”
“Because we know how to kill and aren’t afraid to.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Shh!” I ordered, and smiled at the big guy who had promised to make me a worm not so long ago. “Did you want something?”
“Yeah. You…”
“What about me?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to have a chat with your boss. Get lost!”
I had no plans to exchange pleasantries, never mind make peace with him.
“Morris!”
Morris turned around with such readiness that it was obvious he had noticed our approach from a distance, just assuming the expression of a slightly-overworked halfling. As soon as he noticed me (or, most likely, pretended to notice), his face lit up with extremely measured joy.
“Eleven! Ninety-One! Back for more work?”
“Depends on the job and the payment.” I came closer and extended a hand to him.
A second passed… Then another… And a third… And then my hand was finally gripped in a firm handshake. In front of everyone, one of the leaders of the Solar Flame shook hands with the goblin killer. Then he switched hands to shake Yorka’s left hand. It seemed like a standard formal greeting, but I knew it would send a wave of news across the Outskirts. That news would then transform into embellished rumors, and from there into hardly-credible gossip. But all these tales would contain the same grain of truth: Eleven and Ninety-One, Elb and Yorka, were close with the brigades, or maybe even working with one of them. And not just hauling for them.
What was in it for us?
Quite a lot. The local thugs would stop bullying us. Powerful people would try to learn more, probe into our affairs, even establish contact.
That would give us a ton of opportunities. I had no idea what kind, but that didn’t matter. The most important things was to get the wheels in motion and keep them going. Opportunities would arise in any case — we just had to make the right choices.
Morris didn’t let me down. He smiled broadly and reassured us:
“I wouldn’t make you haul, of course. I have something better for you. Interested?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. Yorka gladly nodded, too, even though she didn’t understand what was going on yet.
I knew she was surprised, even bewildered. We were involved in a triple murder, but no one was charging at us or twisting our arms... The bigshot halflings were even shaking hands with us! Us, the goblin killers! They should have pulled out torches and pitchforks and strung us up!
“Blow up and die…” whispered Yorka, clinging to my right arm. “Blow up and die, goblin! What the elf is going on?”
“Shh,” I whispered. “Just own it.”
“Easy for you to say!”
“You’ll get used to it,” I reassured her. “Let’s go.”
We set off again behind the lazily trudging goblins, who were in no hurry to start their hard, poorly-paid work.
WE WERE ASSIGNED to the easiest job imaginable — using stiff, long-handled brushes to scrub the traces of slime and mud left on the floor after the mechanisms were pulled from the walls. The mechanism were already out on a metal grate in the middle of the hall, and the halflings were bustling around them. We kept up with them, even though pushing the brush was fairly difficult with just one arm. It took us about an hour. Then we had an hour of rest before the second round of cleaning, which took us even less time.
While we were resting, we saw another plux attack. Three of them leaped out of the darkness at once. One was pretty big, about as long as my forearm, and the other two were smaller, but they all attacked equally fiercely. One took a serious hit from a club, but didn’t even try to fall back and hide — just kept attacking. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had any sense of self-preservation.
