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“Whoa, there is nocaring going on here. I have some free time this afternoon, that’s all. Plus, Ihave a resource who… might prove useful in this situation.”
“The ConflictDemon?”
“How do you knowabout the Demon?”
“Everyone knowsabout the Demon. There is a boatload of photos from the bar last night doingthe rounds. And did you really think you could stroll into Headquarters withhim, and not set every tongue on every Plane wagging?”
“Oh, Freyja saveme.”
“Okay, I’ll allowyou, and your Demon-”
“Not my Demon.”
“You and theHottie then, can Portal to Yemen-Poh-” Jordan stopped talking abruptly.
Shaw was on herfeet, halberd magically in one hand, staring at the double doors of her office,the phone still held to her ear.
“What was that?”Jordan whispered. “Are you having an earthquake?”
“No, I don’t thinkso. I have to go.” Shaw put the phone down, gripping the halberd tighter inreadiness as she slowly made her way to the doors. That sound. It scraped ather nerve endings. Her gut roiling with sudden tension. What could be makingthat sound? Part chainsaw, part something really large choking on somethingequally large. Were they under attack? Was maintenance drilling into a wall?
Flinging the doorsopen, Shaw gaped. No! It was impossible. The sight before her was beyondimpossible. Helgastein Gerwitz. Dour. Grumpy. Grey on grey from her hair, tweedsuit, to her very soul… Helgastein Gerwitz was laughing. And not just laughing,but bent over, her hand resting intimately on Kaleb Chipp’s arm, howling up amerry gale.
Oh, my goodGoddess. The apocalypse was nigh.
***
Shaw had foughtthe Ye-Po several times. It was never anything personal. As they, like theValkyries, often hired out their services as muscle for battles, skirmishes andbrouhahas. The Ye-Po in great demand for intimidation work. Something to dowith the fact that the race, when they reached maturity, generally hoveredaround the eight foot in height mark. Couple that with the tusks jutting fromthe sides of their jaws. At first glance they’d give anyone pause to wonder howmuch damage they could inflict. Especially since when it came to weapons therace favoured a variety of different sized stone mallets that they swung aroundwith speed, dexterity, and precision.
Their skin colourhad a surprisingly lovely deep rose tint to it. And whilst hair did technicallygrow from their heads, it tended to do so in clumps. The Ye-Po often growing itlong, ending up with random buns located on several different spots on theirheads that they held in place with small stone pins.
There was littleway for outsiders to tell the difference between the females and the males ofthe species. Shaw supposed that only mattered to the Ye-Po.
Jordan hadsupplied Portal co-ordinates that saw Shaw and Kaleb stepping out into the commonarea of the main judicial building. Two enormous stone mallets instantlyforming a cross, blocking their way. Held by two looming security guards.
They wore the sameattire as every other Ye-Po, a dark grey suit of supple amour covering themfrom their feet to their necks. The material looked to be made of leather, butit was actually the skin of a creature native to Yemen-Poh. The giganticburrowing Bombassa habitually shed its skin every six months or so. Rumour hadit that if the populace hadn’t taken up wearing the stuff, they’d be buried inan avalanche of old discarded skins within a year or two.
Besides, the Bombassa’sskin was impervious to pretty much every sharp bladed weapon, and as an addedbonus, the colour really popped against the rose coloured skin of theinhabitants.
“Ugh.. Gru-ugh.”Because of the placement of their tusks, the Ye-Po had a tendency to grunt.Though even on a good day they were rarely considered chatty.
“Hi there.” Kalebstepped forward, beaming broadly, his hair glowing golden under the bluelighting that made this large cavernous room look nothing but grim and dark.Benches lined one wall, besides a large desk at the far end of the room therewas no other furniture. It was a serious room. Letting anyone who entered knowthat the Ye-Po took their laws, their justice, to heart.
One of the guardswas rocking Princess Leia buns on either side of their head. Whilst Guard Twosported one low bun at the base of their skull so that it was barely noticeablefrom the front, making them look bald.
“I’m Kaleb. Thisis Shaw. We’re here to make a petition to the Low Magistrate so that we mightspeak to some prisoners in holding. If you could just direct us where to go,that would be awesome. I must share what a treat it is to be here in yourRealm. Is that the famous skin of the Bombassa you’re wearing? Wow, if it’s assupple as it looks, and as impervious as legend has it, you’re potentiallysitting on a real gold mine.” Kaleb paused for a breath, which caught in histhroat as abruptly Guard One moved their stone mallet to rest directly beneathhis nose. “Um….?”
Guard Two glancedat Shaw, who shrugged, as if to say what can you do, he loves the sound of hisown voice. Unconsciously she released a small irritated sigh, because all Kalebhad said was true, except Freyja knew why he had to use so many words to getthe point across was beyond her.
Abruptly Guard Twostepped aside, pointing towards the bench at the far end of the room. Oh, cool.Shaw was about to say thank you and then had a better idea. Grunting heracknowledgement and thanks instead. When no one tried to stop her, she made abeeline for the far end of the room. Hah, getting past the first obstacle hadbeen easy. She had no idea what Jordan was complaining about.
“Hey. What aboutme?” Kaleb’s eyes were almost crossed, as he focused on the large blocky stonehead of the mallet resting a mere inch away from his nose.
“You stay here andkeep the troops entertained with your winsome personality. Seems to be workinga treat so far.” Shaw ignored Kaleb’s garbled protest. Pretty sure the malletwas now pressed firmly against his lips.
At the far end ofthe cavernous room, seated behind a raised bench, sat an older Ye-Po, theirhair almost pitch black, encircling the top of their head like a turban, it wasthat long. Their dark small eyes reflecting the low blue lighting. Along withthe standard suit of skin armour they wore a matching long cape. Their tuskshaving turned a soft pale pink colour with age. In their right hand theygripped a mallet with a stone head the size of Shaw’s fist. She didn’tunderestimate the deadliness of the weapon just because of its size.
The Low Magistrateglared and grunted as Shaw came to a halt before the bench. It was a universaleasy to translate grunt of -what the hell do you want?
