Page 1 of Ogres Don't Play

Chapter

One

I’d been trying to get an appointment with the mayor for six months. The hall of endless waiting, or whatever they actually called the extremely pretentious room with tall pale marble pillars, arched roof, and hundreds of tiny high windows to let in the perfect diffuse light, had at least a dozen people dozing on the uncomfortable yet elegant chairs and benches.

As the music master of a city whose very roads and buildings were held together by music magic, it was ludicrous that the city didn’t pay money towards the music hall. Finally, I had an appointment with the man whose face was printed on so many fliers around the city to celebrate the upcoming Singsong City jubilee, the first jubilee since the last music master had died, plus twenty years or so more when the city was a chaotic mess of darkness.

“Are you here to see the mayor?” the girl sitting on the next bench asked without looking up from her knitting. Her voice was soft, like her face, the nice face of a shy girl, so why was she waiting for the mayor with a journalism ID on the lanyard hanging from her neck?

“Yes. I have an appointment. You know, music guild business.”

She lifted her head and smiled at me, a very sweet smile that matched her soft eyes. She was definitely a cat person with a house full of snuggly yarn. “You’re the new music master? I’ve been wanting to do an interview with you. You’re making such a difference to Singsong and I think it’s wonderful.” She certainly seemed sincere in a quiet way.

I smiled politely. I wasn’t going to do a public interview until my place as Singsong City’s music master was thoroughly cemented. You see, no one actually hired me to come here. I came because it was my chance, my opportunity to change careers into a position so public that my old guild wouldn’t drag me back, or worse, my dad. I wasn’t cut out to follow in his footsteps, but I didn’t have to since he had my brother for that. And I wasn’t about to settle down to marry one of the knights of the Holy Order who would only accept me because our kids would have superior angelic magic. I wasn’t cut out for motherhood, or wifehood, but I made a fantastic music master of a falling-apart city that was desperate for anyone with no other options to turn it around. I’d been turning it around, slowly but surely. Okay, more slowly than surely, but without a budget since the music guild didn’t actually know I was here, every gain was a miracle.

“Music Master Mirabel?” the secretary said, coming towards me with a pastel tablet in one hand, her smile much less sincere than the knitting reporter, but no doubt she’d been hired for her absolutely magical beauty rather than sweetness. Magic trailed behind her in sparkles that floated in the air of happiness and good feeling. She must have fairy blood like the mayor. They did tend to surround themselves with their own kind, but so did anyone angel-touched.

As I followed the fairy, I passed a man leaning against the wall, clearly waiting his own turn to see the mayor. The blue cast to his skin and the tiny tusks protruding over his top lip werethe only signs that he wasn’t just a large, strong, very capable looking human. He must be mostly human but with enough ogre to be impossible to mistake for anything else.

As I passed, he glanced up with a slight frown. I hadn’t meant to be caught staring at him and looked away quickly. Another person waiting, an elegant elven woman, sneered at me, apparently judging me for looking at the handsome ogre for too long and with too much interest. Wow. I’d never been judged so harshly by a complete stranger before. She should get to know me before she judged me for being shifty and without sense or taste. Not that I wasn’t shifty. I was a musician who couldn’t cut it with the lions or the HARPs. The Holy Order of the Swords of Truth’s Arm of Righteous Punishment was too bloodthirsty for me, particularly that last battle where I’d really revealed my potential for destruction. Music should be used for something other than killing. Like bringing a city together.

I nodded and focused on the secretary’s excellent presentation, from her posture to her cream suit that matched the marble. Her hair was that same buttery golden shade with a hint of pink, so she matched this hall to a T. I should work on matching my hall. My hair was golden, the old stones gray. Maybe I could paint some gold streaks. Oh, yes, Tiago would love that.

The mayor had the same color scheme as his secretary, beige-blonde hair and skin, which matched his office as well as the waiting room. He gave me a sparkling smile when he held out his hand—his smooth, callous-free hand—for me to shake.

I took it and gave him a good squeeze while he blinked those big eyes and tried to hang onto his smile.

“Mr. Mayor, I’m so honored that you took the time to see me. Here are the documents I’ve prepared to show how much the music guild has been doing to literally hold this city together.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” he said, happy to release my hand and take my papers. He threw himself gracefully into the honey-beige chair with its subtle floral design and rifled through the sheaf without actually looking at them before he tossed them on the desk and gestured at the chair across from him. “Sit, Music Master Mirabel. Please make yourself comfortable. I am more aware than anyone in this city of the way we’ve worked tirelessly to bring Singsong back from the edge of total collapse and into an era of beauty, serenity, prosperity and general goodwill between Sing’s upper city and Song’s undercity. It has been a bold struggle, but we are making a difference every day.”

He'd given this speech just last week, and that snippet had been broadcast on the news. We worked tirelessly with those callousless hands? Oh, please. I smiled and sat down on the tallest chair in the room, but the cushion was still a sand pit, so he was a good head above me when I stopped sinking. He wasn’t a terribly tall man in the first place, but even the ogre outside would have a hard time looking down on the mayor in these chairs.

“Thank you. Yes, it’s certainly been a struggle.” I scooted to the edge of the chair, trying to escape its grasp. “Which brings me to the documents I brought. The music hall is doing better than it has for some time, but there are still so many issues that can’t be resolved without a consistent income. You know that the streets have improved so much that there’s been much less physical maintenance needed, which is more noticeable in the less wealthy parts of town that got so much less maintenance, such as the undercity. The city pays taxes to maintain its streets, so why aren’t those taxes making their way into the music hall coffers so that we can continue to maintain the city until it is again a shining beacon of all the light holds dear?”

He studied me for a long time, big eyes looking glassy, but I’d known enough fairies to guess that he was calculating somethingin those pretty aqua depths. His eyes were the only thing about him that wasn’t beige. “The taxes always go to the music guild’s regional district to be equally distributed to all the music halls. You must be aware of how these things work, since they sent you to take over the old music master’s position.”

See? Diabolical behind the pretty. “Of course I am aware.” I was now. “But the amount you have been paying is negligible considering what the music hall has been doing in the past year. We’ve saved the city millions of dollars in damages just in street repairs alone. You know that the upper city would be partially collapsed by now if it weren’t for the hall’s efforts, but your payments haven’t increased. I can’t continue to raise my own funds to save a city that doesn’t care to save itself.”

He waved a hand around airily. “They keep these financial matters separate from the local level for a reason, to keep down corruption and under-the-table payoffs. Submit your fine paperwork to the regional music guild and then they can send me notification of the situation. Now then, Mirabel, I’ve got a surprise for you!” His eyes brightened and twinkled so compellingly, I almost smiled at him and forgot about my financing.

Ha. Like a little pixie dust could make me forget about financing when the music hall was still falling down, literally. Stone restoration was so unbelievably expensive. I’d gotten grants from my good friends as well as the Gray Society, but those weren’t enough to sustain such a large body as the music hall. Singsong City was different from every other city in the world because it was created out of magic and song as well as stone and wood. The people in the upper city, those angel-touched as well as the inhabitants of the lower, or the demonic, they’d sung together, weaving their voices and magic, creating the golden wall around the city that had protected them for almost two hundred years.

I smiled back at him, keeping my composure instead of chopping his head off with my trusty harp, the one I carried around with me when I felt like my world was spinning out of control, which was always. “It’s Music Master Mirabel.” Let’s start with the honorary that he’d intentionally dropped, trying to make me feel inferior. “I’m here to tell you that without proper support from the city, the music hall will be forced to downsize and focus on those parts of Singsong that have been neglected for the longest, as in the poorer areas and Song, the undercity that you seem to forget exists when you print out your tourism brochures.”

He nodded easily. “That’s right, the tourism brochures are essential to show the world that Singsong city is more than just another perfect tourist destination. It’stheperfect tourist destination.” His smile sparkled, literally, and my gag reflex engaged. He wouldn’t hear anything he didn’t want to hear, and any direct statement I made would be deflected to fit his own personal narrative.

I’d have to match his mindset if I was going to get him on the inside. “That’s so true. What tourist doesn’t want to fall through a city street and into the undercity? That sounds positively magical.” Oops. Too much sarcasm. Fairies hated sarcasm when other people used it. “I mean, I hope that Singsong city can continue to flourish in the capable hands of our dear Mayor Sparks, and that eventually Singsong’s reputation can bring in ever more revenue and financial stability to the good businesses and guilds of the city.”

He snapped and pointed at me. “Exactly. Knowing your passion for Singsong’s legacy I’m allowing you to take lead on the production for the upcoming Jubilee!” He beamed at me like it wasn’t a toxic morass that I’d declined taking part in a dozen times when the current Jubilee’s coordinator had contacted me.

And I’d spent six months trying to get a meeting with one of the most diabolical species known to humanity. “I couldn’t possibly?—”

The door opened and the sweet reporter came in looking nervous and ready to spook. The way she looked at the mayor said everything. She knew that he’d manipulate her into doing something she felt sketchy about. Most reporters wouldn’t feel sketchy about anything, but this one, she’d have things she felt bad about, and of course he’d take advantage of that.

Mayor Sparks stood, holding out his arms like he’d give her a hug. He wouldn’t. Fairies were not big on touching other people less sparkly than themselves. “Come in, come in, darling Daphne.”

“It’s actually not Daph?—”

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