The Knight

“She saw you go into the cellar and talk to the ogre,” I said while Gylf crouched over Uns snarling. “That’s where it hides, I guess. I suppose it steals food from your mother’s kitchen. You wanted me to sleep there. Was it so your ogre could kill me while I was asleep? Or was it to stop it from stealing for one night?”

Uns said, “Git him off!”

“In a minute. It’s a live ogre, it has to be, if it’s an ogre at all. Is it?”

“I dunno. Guess sa.”

That was the first time he had admitted anything, and I thought it would be better to pretend I had not noticed. I pulled my chin and asked what it said about that.

“Don’t talk much.”

“But it does talk?”

“A lil. I learnt him.”

I smiled, although I certainly did not feel like it. “I guess you caught him young. What’s his name?”

“Org. Git him off or I won’t talk no more.”

I told Gylf to let him go, and Gylf backed away, still growling.

Uns waited a minute, not sure Gylf would not take off an arm if he got up. Finally he did. It was not easy for him, because his bad back made it hard to keep his weight over his feet.

I said, “Maybe I sound like I know everything. I don’t. What’s important to me is that I don’t know if I could beat your ogre in a fair fight. You can’t tell me that, even if you think you could. Did you catch him young?”

“Din’t ketch him a-tall,” Uns muttered. “Da ma was dead, layin’ inna woods wid arrows all over in her ‘n Org starvin’. I ought ta let him. I knew. On’y I’se a mop ta ‘n wanted him ‘n I tooked him hum.”

“You hid him in your mother’s cellar?”

“Yessar, dere’s a ol’ storeroom ma’s forgot, ‘n dat’s Org’s place.”

“I see.”

Uns craned his neck to look up, seeking understanding. “He stinks, he do, from sleepin’ in his shit, ‘n sumptimes I wants ta turn him out. On’y he’d git stock. Dat got his ma kilt. Sa I don’. On’y I want ta, ‘n I will, ta, ’un day.”

I waited, pretty sure that he would keep talking if I gave him a chance to think about things.

“Learnt him ta talk a li’l, sar. Tried ta teach him ta say ogre ’cause he is.

On’y he says org. Sa Org’s wat I calls him, sar. He says yes ‘n no ‘n Uns. Li’l words like dat.”

I nodded. “I suppose knowing you had him—a monster in the house that nobody knew about—made you feel like you were better than your brother. Maybe better than your mother, too.”

“Made me good as dem, dat’s aw, sar. Ma ...”

“Go on.”

“She’s my ma, dat’s aw, ‘n sumptimes it’s like I’se still a mop. ‘N it’s her farm, ‘n she’ll give it ta Duns when she passes.”

I nodded to myself.

“Sa Org means I count ta.”

“Can you get him from the cellar and bring him here without being seen?”

Uns hesitated, gnawing his lip. “Ya goin’ ta kill him, Sar Able?”

“I’m going to wrestle him, if he’ll wrestle me. Maybe he’ll kill me, breaking my back or my neck. If he does—”

Gylf growled; you have heard the same noise, but you thought it was distant thunder.

“You and Gylf and Pouk will have to sort things out. Or I may kill Org, the same way. We’ll see.”

“Ya goin’ ta wresde him fair, sar?”

“Yes. Without weapons, if that’s what you mean. Can you bring him? Don’t let anybody see you.”

Uns bobbed his head. “Yessar. Outta da cellar door, sar. Dey won’t know.”

“Then bring him. Bring him now, and I’ll do my best to see that no serious harm comes to him.”

Gylf wanted to go with Uns, but I would not let him. When Uns had gone, I took off my boots and my sword belt and laid them aside, with Sword Breaker and my dagger still in their scabbards. After that, I took off my clothes. They were still pretty wet, but I found I was a lot colder without them than I had been with them on. I had put my sword belt on my boots to keep it off the wet ground, sticking Sword Breaker and my dagger into the boots. Now I piled my clothes on top of everything, trying not to get them any wetter than they were already.

When I had stripped, I stretched the way they teach you to in gym, leaning right and left as I touched my toes. The swing of the sea was strong in me, and I called upon it as I loosened up my muscles. I was a big man, thanks to Disiri, a head taller than almost everybody, with big shoulders and arms thicker than most men’s legs. I knew I was going to need all that, and the sea-surge most of all. The big waves pound, and drain away. They are strong, not stiff, and they swallow everything you throw at them and throw it back at you harder.

Gylf snarled, and from the sound of it I knew Org was coming. I took a good deep breath and let it trickle away.

Then I folded my arms and waited. This would be the test, and I had no idea how it would come out.

Chapter 41. Org

He bites, sar. I oughta tell you dot. ‘Nhe’s bigger now dan when Duns catched him.”