Page 62 of Ogres Don't Play

“She came to my Jubilee. What else was I supposed to do?” The logical thing would be to let her take Rook. They had an agreement, and even if he’d been only a baby at the time, it was still binding.

The Goblin Authority rumbled, “Indeed. Her eyes are her most vulnerable points. Her armpits are her second most vulnerable, at least as far as skin is concerned, but you’d have to get through the ribs to get to her heart. It’s so large, it would take a great deal of damage to shut it down. Poisoned blades won’t do anything. She’s as poisonous as anything else you could use. Be certain to not get her blood on you, should you manage to get her to bleed. It’s not just skin contact, it’s vaporous, and you have to be sure not to inhale it.”

I turned to stare at him. “I didn’t know that. Thank you.” Was he actually being useful? The world was coming to an end.

His eyes gleamed from behind his mask. “If, by some miracle, you are able to defeat her, everyone would be pleased. Except for the trolls, but that’s hardly a surprise. I hope that you have a very good plan, and very good armor. You’re going to need it.”

That was encouraging. Once the audience was focused on the werewolf instead of me, I turned to find Lanise near the doorway, studying me with a frown.

“Where’s Rook?” I asked.

“Gone.”

“Gone?” My heart beat faster. Had he abandoned me because he didn’t see the point of waiting around to see whether or not I died?

“Not want watch die. Blame self, you dead.”

I frowned at her and then marched briskly past her. “How convenient. I’d hate for him to distract me in my last living moments as I prepare for the duel.”

“Duel?” she snorted, loud and annoyed. “Dinner. Vampire here, want see you.”

“A vampire?”

Out of the shadows, the tall, dark, terrifying vampire took shape, coming forward to hand me a stack of books and parchments, along with a few very interesting scrolls. Ah, The Scholar.

He cleared his throat. “Libby mentioned that you should start with the scroll. It, er, wants you to read it.”

“Oh. Thank you. And thanks again for the grant you gave to the music hall. Support from you and members of the community like you is why we can have such a remarkable program as this.” I gestured at the werewolves who were doing some jazz/punk thing. Hopefully, he enjoyed weird music.

“Think nothing of it. Best of luck with your duel tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you. I’d better get busy,” I said, nodding down to the stack in my arms.

He nodded and then disappeared back into shadows.

“Read? Now?” Lanise demanded, clearly shocked that anyone would want to spend their last day doing something that horrifying.

“Music spells, Lanise. If I’m going to win, I’m going to need to use my magic to do it.”

“Magic? You?”

I scowled at her. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I’m going to be in a nice glass booth studying. If you could find my brother and bring him to me, that would be helpful.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You want fight?”

“I want Rook.” I blinked at her. Did I? I’d better if I was willing to fight a mountain troll for him. How stupid of me. “I will fight for him.” And then I’d have to marry him. Oh well. It was inevitable ever since I found out that he was Rook the Luthier.

She shook her head. “Get pretty. Learn magic. Not die.”

“Yes, get my pretty brother while I study. I will make not dying my highest priority.”

The scroll that wanted me to read it was an old, crumbling love song. I learned it quickly, before I moved onto the next book. It was too much theory without anything immediately practical, although I’d definitely be reading it after I didn’t die. If I didn’t die.

The next book had some theory, but more applicable elven music magic that I searched until I found an armor spell that looked promising. I started learning it, but it was so different, so cold, soelvish. I was a quarter elven, but that wasn’t enough to really use their magic full-out. I knew that, which is why I’d adapted those old simple music spells so they’d work for me.

Had Rook really left me? Now? Didn’t he trust me at all? At least I could use his support while I tried to get my head around these weird elven texts. He could sing with me, but no, because he had to run away. Runner-From-Women really would be his name once he’d become King.

My brother came in while I was neck deep in armor spells, trying to take it apart and put it together in a way that would work for me.

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