{"id":234,"date":"2017-05-14T08:20:08","date_gmt":"2017-05-13T20:20:08","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/?page_id=234"},"modified":"2018-02-19T13:15:01","modified_gmt":"2018-02-19T00:15:01","slug":"axe-stone-dwarf-detective","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/axe-stone-dwarf-detective\/","title":{"rendered":"Axe Stone: Dwarf Detective"},"content":{"rendered":"

He’s not so much noir as he is svart. And he’s not so much smart as he is… street smart.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

by Mike Reeves-McMillan<\/em><\/p>\n

When the elf walks into my office, I know I am in trouble.<\/span><\/p>\n

She has tight-clad legs that go all the way up and a tunic that does not go all the way down, and her hair is red, which is a bad sign in any dame, and an elf especially.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo I address Axe Stone?\u201d she says, frowning so hard her forehead looks like shark-infested waters.<\/span><\/p>\n

I drop my boots off the desk and stand, gesture her to a chair. \u201cYou do,\u201d I confirm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMister Stone,\u201d she says, not sitting, \u201cyou have a problem.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMost times people come in here, they tell me that they have a problem,\u201d I note. \u201cAnd call me Axe.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour problem, Mister Stone,\u201d she says, \u201cis that very soon a troll comes round here with a proposition for you, which I advise that you do not accept.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA troll does not like to hear the word \u2018no\u2019,\u201d I say. \u201cIt is a word that is hard to explain to him, on account of it is too long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there,\u201d she says, \u201cyou identify the problem. A dwarf with your skills, you could be a detective.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I give this all the laughter it deserves. \u201cHa,\u201d I say. \u201cAnd who is it that tells me this valuable information at no cost?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo I mention that there is no cost?\u201d she says. \u201cDo those words escape my mouth at any time? Come with me now, Mister Stone, before you must explain \u2018no\u2019 to Rocky the Face.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At this I grab my axe and start for the door. Almost, I go back for the square bottle of mead in my bottom desk drawer, but whenever Rocky the Face is due someplace it is best to be elsewhere promptly, particularly if you plan to tell him \u2018no\u2019, and I do not wish to delay even somewhat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do we go?\u201d I ask the elf, as we leg it through the alleyway.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have a place,\u201d she says. \u201cIf you must address me,\u201d she adds, \u201csay Nina.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I try to look at her hands, but she has them in the pockets of her coat. She gives me a look.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe answer to your question,\u201d she says, \u201cis yes. Hurry up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Nine-fingers Nina is known to one and all as a lifter and second-story girl, and I begin to map out the dimensions of the trouble I am in. It is a spacious, roomy trouble, suitable for building a village in, or perhaps a small town. I swallow, and hurry up.<\/span><\/p>\n

We enter Nina\u2019s lodgings through the back, naturally, by means of a window, which from what I have heard around and about is Nina\u2019s favored method of entering any dwelling. It is no palace, but since I currently sleep under the desk at my office, I do not look down my snoot at any room that is purpose-built for sleeping in. (There is a problem with the rent, and Pictish John, my landlord, is a man who has no patience concerning matters of cash flow.)<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d I say. \u201cWhat does Rocky the Face wish from me, why do I not give it to him, and why do you tell me about it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRocky the Face,\u201d says Nina, \u201cwishes you to investigate a death.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho is dead?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNobody, yet,\u201d she says. I lean on my axe and raise my eyebrows.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOracle Billy,\u201d she says, \u201cpredicts the death of the Slab.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

At this I nearly drop the axe, a thing that does not happen in twenty years, even while drunk.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d I say. \u201cHow?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOracle Billy does not say. But Red Ruby the witch carries word to the Slab, and I am nearby when she tells him, and I hear him say \u2018Get Axe Stone\u2019 to Rocky the Face.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It is not hard to move faster than Rocky the Face, and she is an elf. So far, her story checks out. \u201cWhy are you in the room at all?\u201d I ask her. \u201cAnd what is your stake in this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am not in the room,\u201d she says. \u201cI am outside the window, because Slow Slip Larry, who works for the Slab, has an item that one of my employers desires, and I am on my way back from obtaining it. This item,\u201d she says, and produces a knife. To Slow Slip Larry, who is a troll the size of a hut, it is surely a knife of insignificant size, but in Nine-fingered Nina\u2019s one-finger-lacking grasp it is large enough that I wonder where she conceals it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat is a very bejewelled item,\u201d I mention.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is also a very bespelled item,\u201d says Nina. \u201cFurthermore, it is the weapon with which Oracle Billy says the Slab will be killed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sag against the wall. This is trouble in which a guy could build a decent city, one with plenty of fields and a woodland and maybe a harbor.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWonderful,\u201d I say weakly. \u201cWhy does the Slab not call for Slow Slip Larry, if he has this item?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Slab does not know that Slow Slip Larry has the item,\u201d she says, \u201cand nor does Slow Slip Larry. Oracle Billy mentions its name in his prophecy, but they do not know that this item belongs to that name, which is the Bitter Talon Causing Bouts of Anguished Weeping.\u201d As she speaks the name of the weapon it glitters, only in reverse: the light on it is shadowed in tiny spots which dance all over it, like blood pixies on a corpse. I shudder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d I say, \u201cwhat do you have against the Slab? Or against continuing to live?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have nothing against continuing to live,\u201d says Nine-fingered Nina. \u201cIt is my greatest ambition to continue to live. This is why I come to your office.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho hires you to obtain the item?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNecromancer Nick.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mines, I think. That city I could build inside the trouble? It has room for some mines. Deep ones, that go on a long way. I wish I am in a mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

The difference between the Slab and Necromancer Nick is this: If the Slab is unhappy with you, he makes you dead. If Necromancer Nick is unhappy with you, he makes you dead, and then you work for Necromancer Nick.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy does he hire you?\u201d I ask. \u201cDoes he not have enough servants?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe shamblers do not have the brains, and the spooks do not have the hands.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

This makes sense. \u201cOK,\u201d I say. \u201cWhat do you wish me to do, and when and how do you pay me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI wish you to help me get the item to Necromancer Nick so I am quit of it. I already pay you when I help you avoid Rocky the Face.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNice try,\u201d I say, \u201cbut no. You only wish me to avoid Rocky the Face so that I do not pursue you on behalf of the Slab. I do not expect that you do this job for Necromancer Nick because you like his ugly puss. I wish fifty percent of what he pays you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTen,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

We settle on thirty, which is what we both expect, and she says, \u201cEnough talk. Stick close. We use the ways which are too small for trolls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

#<\/span><\/p>\n

The problem with the ways which are too small for trolls is that they are sized just right for goblins. Also, it is difficult to swing an axe to full effect in such quarters. I know this beforehand, but I am reminded of it a few minutes into my journey, in a manner which ensures I am in no danger of forgetting at any future time.<\/span><\/p>\n

We are in an alley back of Big Mouth Jerry\u2019s. I know where we are because I hear the voice of Holy Joe the street preacher from the other side of the building, and he is always in front of Big Mouth Jerry\u2019s, except when some citizen who wants an item blessed invites him into Jerry\u2019s for a drink. We enter this alleyway, and next thing I know, little red eyes are gleaming at me all around.<\/span><\/p>\n

I swing the axe and take the corner off a brick, then they are laying plenty of hooks on me and there is a general whirling accompanied by a drubbing, which concludes with me face-down in the street and my axe several feet away. I am unenthused as regards leaving my beard in contact with the pavement back of Big Mouth Jerry’s, or anywhere else in the city, for that matter, but the goblins are not offering options at this time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStone,\u201d hisses one, next to my lughole.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCross-Eyed Charlie,\u201d I say, this being his name. He spits at me through his jagged teeth, and misses, on account of his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMister Slab wishes to talk to you,\u201d says another of the goblins. Cross-Eyed Charlie pops him one.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI say the message!\u201d he splutters. \u201cMister Slab\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, I hear already. I am sure I will enjoy a talk with Mister Slab,\u201d I lie.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome,\u201d mutter sundry gobs, and drag me to my feet.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey!\u201d I say, as they begin to haul me out of the alley. \u201cMy axe!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe are not your porters,\u201d says Cross-Eyed Charlie.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAt least put it out of sight,\u201d I plead, and Cross-Eyed Charlie gives me the dark eye but signals to three of the gobs, who stash the axe behind some old barrels next to Jerry’s back door.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nine-fingered Nina is in no wise in evidence. No doubt she has it away on her toes the moment the gobs show up.<\/span><\/p>\n

#<\/span><\/p>\n

The Slab looks like half a wall that someone starts to knock down and forgets to finish, probably because it eats him. \u201cMister Stone,\u201d he mutters.<\/span><\/p>\n

I nod in a manner that is not quite a bow. We have a saying in the mines that respect is cheap, but gold costs sweat. The Slab has enough gold, and enough hired muscle surrounding me with sharp iron, that I can pretend respect if he wishes it so bad.<\/span><\/p>\n

He fills me in, and I am surprised to note that Nina gives me the straight dope. This prophecy thing of Oracle Billy\u2019s is mentioned, and the meat slicer with the fancy moniker, though he does not let on that he is prophesied to be dead.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWill you find this item for me, Mister Stone?\u201d asks the Slab.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI will,\u201d I say. \u201cAs it happens, I hear a rumor about its whereabouts. My fee is\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour fee,\u201d says the Slab, \u201cis that I do not set the gobs on to kick your dwarf face in.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Now this is no way for a businessman to talk, and the Slab is always a businessman. I wonder if there is more wrong than just he is predicted to die, but I am surrounded by gobs, and not a few trolls, and I say, \u201cOf course, Mister Slab.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSet him loose,\u201d says the Slab.<\/span><\/p>\n

#<\/span><\/p>\n

I make my way back to the alley back of Big Mouth Jerry\u2019s, and much to my gratification the axe is still there. Before I can finish giving it the once-over, Nine-fingers Nina drops down out of the shadows and joins me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat keeps you?\u201d she wishes to know. I give her the dark eye and we head off towards Necromancer Nick\u2019s joint. I feel twice as tall with the axe in my hand, which makes me eight feet six inches, boots to helmet.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nick is bunked up in a cellar down near the docks. The first thing we notice as we get close is that no other citizens are on the street.Then we commence to feel the fear, and the chill.<\/span><\/p>\n

Necromancer Nick has more spooks and corpses in that cellar than is healthy for anyone, and especially anyone who is alive and is not Necromancer Nick. Nina looks at me, and I look at her, and neither of us wishes to admit that we are more scared than the other, so we drag ourselves up to the door and knock. It feels like my beard will turn white at any moment, though given what is in it from the alley back of Big Mouth Jerry\u2019s this is more desirable than otherwise. My axe, which is on my shoulder, shakes more than somewhat, what with the trembling of my mitts.<\/span><\/p>\n

The door creaks in a manner that very nearly sends me hoofing it, but I see some stuff when I am in the war that, if I do not run from it, I do not run from much, and I clutch the axe and hold firm. I glance around the street, though, and as I do, I think I see a round head with long pointy ears vanish behind a chimney back the way we come.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNina,\u201d I say, \u201cThe gobs\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGREETINGS,\u201d booms a voice at this juncture, and I remind myself to visit Sally the Sud-Slinger after this is over, on account of I need some garments washed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cENTER,\u201d goes the voice, and we tremble down the steps.<\/span><\/p>\n

Necromancer Nick\u2019s place is darker than the Slab\u2019s, and instead of slumping on the floor in one corner like the Slab he has one of those big carved chairs covered in points. Everything is, naturally, painted black, and Nick wears black, and all his shamblers, who are standing round the walls, wear black, and there is not so much light, but what there is shines mostly on Necromancer Nick\u2019s face. It is not a face I will shine on, if I am light and have any kind of choice in the matter, but naturally I do not express this thought to Necromancer Nick. The air is kind of busy, and after a moment I figure out that it is full of spooks swooping here and there.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNick,\u201d says Nina.<\/span><\/p>\n

He nods. \u201cYou have the item?\u201d he asks. She walks across the creaky floor and hands it to him, and backs away. I see her shivering.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cVery well,\u201d he says. \u201cYour payment, as agreed.\u201d He waves his hand, casual-like, and her shoulders drop, like a weight is lifted off them.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait,\u201d I say. \u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy payment,\u201d explains Nina, \u201cis that Nick takes off a curse that I suffer under.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I say. I am less than fully delighted by this development. \u201cYou promise me thirty percent.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI cannot help it,\u201d she said, \u201cif you are such a mug that you agree to thirty percent and do not ask thirty percent of what. Besides, you do nothing except get captured by gobs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo why bring me?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe item requires a sacrifice to bond to its new owner,\u201d says Nick’s sinister voice, and I perceive that I am in a kingdom of trouble, perhaps so much as an empire.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nick gestures again, and I feel something, like I wish to move towards him. After a moment, I take a step.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I march forward at no pace to speak of, I leave the light from the door, and from the corner of my eye I note something that is of great interest to me at that moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

I have the feeling that I will understand the whole sequence of events in another minute, in a different way than I understand them previously. It is a feeling I get on cases when I solve them. But there are other matters that require my more urgent attention, namely Necromancer Nick, who leaves his throne and raises the knife. It does the reverse glitter business again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I swing the axe straight into Necromancer Nick’s ugly puss.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now, there are some things around and about that can shrug off an axe to the puss, and normally Necromancer Nick is one such, but what I note from the corner of my eye is that my axe glows. It is a kind of glow I see before, during the war, when our paladin, Righteous Reggie, blesses our weapons before we go in against a certain kind of enemy. This is why, when Nick puts the whammy on me, enough of me remains unwhammied to decide to axe him in the pan, and also why I figure that doing so is worth the attempt.<\/span><\/p>\n

The axe strikes Necromancer Nick and ruins his nose, not that this is a thing that takes much doing, and carries on into his noggin, about half the width of the blade. Black smoke comes out of what is left of his face and is drawn into the knife, which falls from his mitt and sticks in the floor. It quivers.<\/span><\/p>\n

I brace my boot against Nick and pull the axe free, expecting to have to deal with shamblers, but they drop to the floor also and commence to come apart. The spooks swoop in a circle, and I think they are about to attack, but they stay well clear of the axe (or maybe it is the knife) and then vanish all at once. I think I hear the words \u201cthank you,\u201d very faint.<\/span><\/p>\n

I cut off Nick’s head, to be safe, because very few things come back from having no head, and turn to the doorway.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, Nina,\u201d I say. \u201cOr is it Red Ruby?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is true what they say,\u201d she says. \u201cYou are a detective.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou lead me to that alley back of Big Mouth Jerry’s,\u201d I say, \u201cwhere the Slab’s gobs happen to find me, take away my axe, and leave it behind. Now, out front of Jerry’s is the street preacher, Holy Joe, who will bless any object you shove at him if you stake him to a drink.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is true,\u201d says Red Ruby the witch.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Necromancer Nick,\u201d I say, \u201cis enough of a sorcerer to know if someone comes with the intention of rendering him an axe to the puss.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she says. \u201cBut not if there is, forgive me, a patsy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shoot her a scowl. \u201cSo tell me,\u201d I say, \u201cis there ever a prophecy from Oracle Billy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOracle Billy never says word one,\u201d says Red Ruby. \u201cThe Slab owes me a favor, so he plays along with the scheme.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the curse Necromancer Nick takes off you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat is on the level. I decide it is time I am rid of it, as it hinders my social engagements.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut the main point of the scheme is to guzzle Necromancer Nick.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods, and walks over to one of the former shamblers. \u201cHelp me carry him,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

I look from the corpse\u2019s face to hers. \u201cMy brother,\u201d she says, as I pick him up. \u201cNot that Necromancer Nick knows this. Now we burn this place, with that knife still in it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

#<\/span><\/p>\n

So that is my morning. I am not paid, I increase my marker with Sud-Slinger Sally and have to wash my beard, Cross-Eyed Charlie gets to push me around, and I am generally played for a sap by one and all. Red Ruby suggests that I take moral satisfaction from the caper, but I do not forgive her for risking my life in her schemes, and we part on terms that are less than amiable.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Author’s Note<\/strong><\/p>\n

I hope you enjoyed that odd mix of Runyonesque<\/a>, detective noir, and sword and sorcery. It was my first semiprofessional sale – to an anthology that’s no longer available. (The publisher shut his publishing business down so that he could concentrate on dealing with a family crisis.) I like it, even if it’s too peculiar for most editors, so I’ve put it up here where anyone who would enjoy it can do so.<\/p>\n

You can get more of my short fiction by signing up for my newsletter<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

He’s not so much noir as he is svart. And he’s not so much smart as he is… street smart.\u00a0 by Mike Reeves-McMillan When the elf walks into my office, I know I am in trouble. She has tight-clad legs … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"content-type":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0},"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/234"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=234"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/234\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":249,"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/234\/revisions\/249"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/csidemedia.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=234"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}