Spy Games, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
A Commotion
My Balls!
A Deserved Rest
Dinner Woes
Potatoes
Bad Timing
Wake Up
Into the Basement
Hunt for Gold
Home, Please
Riches Abound
Spy
Wakey Wakey
Twats in the House
Tidying Up
New Sanctuary
No More Jeans
No News is Good News
On the Road Again
Nothing to Report
Bad Day for Shopping
Instant Revelations
Pam and Sis
Young Trouble
Potion Commotion
Horsing Around
Goodbye to Old Friends
Greggs
One Little Button
Despicable!
Love You, Woofer
Boat People
Clansmen
Finally
It Never Ends
Things Get Wild
Peth Again
Rehoming
Riots on the News
Our Little Chat
Copyright © 2022 Al K. Line
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A COMMOTION
"Dad!" screamed Jen from the hallway.
"Coming," I hollered back, still feeling like I was in someone else's house even after two years in the new place. I bolted from the snug, my favorite room as it contained my tatty brown recliner, and dashed out into the wide hallway where flagstones were so worn and old they made the rest of the oversized cottage seem almost new, not five centuries old.
The polish of a million footfalls sent me skidding towards Jen. I gripped the carved oak newel post, slowed myself down, then frowned at the noise and unnerving vibrations coming from below our feet.
Jen came up next to me, a worried, almost-but-not-quite-scared expression on her face. "Is it an earthquake?" she whispered, grabbing my hand for comfort. Even sixteen-year-olds need their daddy sometimes.
"Worse," I groaned, staring at the shifting floor.
"A fire?" she gasped, sniffing.
"Nope. Worse than that."
"A tornado? Do we get tornadoes?"
"Only of the miniature and very annoying kind. And no, I don't mean Woofer."
"What are you talking about?" Jen grabbed onto my shirt as the ground buckled and a deafening whoosh made my ears pop.
Jen released my shirt, so I led her by the hand to the battered door under the stairs and cupped my ear to the mellow wood. Frowning and confused, Jen nevertheless copied me. We listened to the crashing, banging, tinkling, and muttering coming from the rather lavish basement.
Sectioned off into separate rooms, in the past it had been used to store coal delivered via a chute at ground level, a pantry, cold store, and even a kitchen, but had long since been converted. When we moved in it had a games room, a movie room complete with projector, and a bloody impressive wine cellar, although the previous occupants had taken the wine with them, more's the pity.
I'd taken the rest out in anticipation of what was to come, and by the sounds of it our grumpy guest had finally arrived.
"It's Shey Redgold, isn't it?" asked Jen as she jumped back after a particularly loud crash.
"It's either him or an army of bulldozers." I coughed into my sleeve as dust billowed from underneath the badly fitting door.
"He took his time, didn't he?" Jen twirled a lock of dark hair then let it hang loose over her shoulders, contrasting with the Day-Glo orange vest that was all the rage at the moment and a real strain on old eyes.
"It's a mammoth move he has to undertake. Think how many trips he's made."
"Shall we go and help?"
Jen reached for the doorknob but I yelped, "No!"
"What's wrong with your voice?"
"My dear, innocent, darling daughter," I said sweetly, draping my arm over her shoulder, "you have so much to learn." I guided her away from the racket and into the shabby yet comfortable kitchen Phage had wasted no time in making her own.
I filled up the kettle, then felt a pang of guilt as I flipped the switch for it to boil. While I spooned thankfully halfway decent coffee into two mugs and added a splash of milk to Jen's, I taught her a few things about living with dwarves.
"Okay, rule number one. Never offer to help a dwarf. Rule two—"
"Why not?"
"Because they might let you. Rule two—"
"What's wrong with that?"
"You'll get into all sorts of trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Jen's eyes were sparkling; she was intrigued.
"Trouble of the worst kind. Let me continue. Rule two is never touch their gold unless they say you can, and they won't ever say that."
"I already know that. Is this why it's taken him so long to get here?"
"That, and I didn't tell him we were moving," I muttered.
"Dad!"
"What? He likes it. Keeps him on his toes. And I'm only joking. I told him this time. But he has to find a way to get here. That's a lot of digging, and you can bet he will have got himself into bother while he slowly found his way here."
"He can't actually have dug tunnels all this way though, can he?"
I shrugged. "It's rather a mystery. Dwarves are expert miners, no question about that, but usually there are thousands of them. When dwarves are alone they still seem to manage somehow, but yeah, that's a lot for one guy. He'd have to make shafts and get the dirt excavated, find wood to shore up the tunnels, all that stuff. It's a real mystery alright."
"So we shouldn't help him?" Jen nodded her thanks as I passed her the coffee. It was still weird seeing my little girl so grown up and drinking the stuff, but there was no longer any denying she was now a young woman. A very willful, wild, fearless young woman. Stress on legs for her father, in other words.
"Absolutely not. He'll be in a foul mood, he'll complain non-stop about the trip, be freaking out about his gold going missing, and blame us for it. Leave him be. Come on, let's go find Woofer. He's outside somewhere. Probably too scared to come back in with this racket."
I grabbed my coffee, then followed Jen outside and away from the dust, noise, and the terror that lurked beneath our feet.
MY BALLS!
The sun assaulted us the moment we stepped out of the shade. Not a deadly attack, but ferocious nonetheless.
I instantly regretted the coffee, but drank it quickly for the caffeine hit then left my mug next to Jen's on the rusty iron table just outside the house.
We simply stood there for a moment, taking in what was now ours, still finding it rather strange, but happy that we were so blessed with our new place. In unison, we breathed deep and savored a very familiar smell. Tang of sulfur on the sluggish breeze, scents of a thousand flowers in bloom, the unmistakable whiff of the zoo, and best of all, the incomparable aroma of happiness.
"Mum will be back soon. Hope she got us both a treat," said Jen with a devilish wink.
"Not bloody likely. You know how it is at the moment. Rations only."
"Yeah, but she always manages to get something on the sly."
"Just don't go expecting too much. We do alright, don't we?"
"Course we do. But I miss being able to have whatever we want."
"That was a luxury that had to end sometime." My words sounded hollow. I didn't believe it for a minute.
"I know." Jen waved it away like she had all the answers. "Everyone's being squeezed, then squeezed some more. Limited food, ubermarkets almost empty, the music louder than ever. Small businesses struggling under the crushing weight of astronomical energy bills, the transport costs of getting goods delivered incomprehensible, and finding it increasingly difficult to survive with the limited produce they can offer and the fixed prices for businesses large or small."
"Bloody hell, that was a mouthful. Sounded like a recital."
"You've said it often enough."
"And I'm sorry. I should leave you to make up your own mind. Don't listen to me. I'm just being grumpy."
"What?"
"I said, I'm… Oh, very funny."
Jen grinned at me then asked, "But do you really think they're doing it on purpose? I read all this stuff online about how farms are being bought up by a few people, that the farmers are being forced to do things that mean it's almost impossible to earn enough to keep going. It's like the government wants everyone to struggle."
"Like I said, make your own mind up. But my opinion is that everything we've been through is a smokescreen for them to control our lives and keep us exactly where they want us."
"But why?"
"I have absolutely no idea. Come on, let's go find Woofer. What's that daft dog up to?"
We got two paces before Woofer appeared in front of us, tail wagging, head held high, ears primed, nose twitching.
"Was looking for Woofer?"
"We were," laughed Jen. "But you made us jump."
"Woofer is expert at morphing. Can have sausage?"
"Just the one?" I laughed.
"Is more?"
"There are no sausages, Woofer. Not today. Maybe next time," soothed Jen as Woofer's tail dropped and his head hung low.
"Next time is today?"
"No, it isn't," I told him. "We get our shopping a few times a week, but today isn't sausage day. And we only get six, so I'm afraid you aren't getting a feast any time soon."
"Only six sausages," whined Woofer, like he might as well end his sorry existence right now.
"For all of us," I remind him. "Not just for you. We have to share."
"So sad. Woofer love sausages."
"We know," we chorused, chortling at our silly Labrador.
"Play ball with Woofer?" he asked, full of optimism.
"Sure," agreed Jen. "Go find your ball."
Woofer ran off, sausage withdrawal forgotten, to search for a ball.
Jen and I wandered across the yellow-tinged lawn, the stripes fading after the irregular mowing done weeks ago. We stopped at the two trolls anchored in the middle of the grass, taking a moment to wonder silently yet again how they had managed to make their way here without causing panic on the streets. My best guess was they'd slipped through the cracks into another realm and somehow managed to get out in exactly the right spot, but that was mere conjecture. The truth was, I had no bloody idea how they did it.
Wonjin stood tall, solid as a mountain, immobile as usual, although the miniature version standing next to him meant he'd been more active in the past few years than the entire time he'd been with us. His daughter was larger now, but still clearly a young child. With a squat body, very stubby legs with fat knees, and a look of trouble on her almost square head, she still managed to look cute even being made of rock.
"She's such a sweetie," said Jen, stroking the top of the baby troll's head.
Wonjin's eyes opened slowly as he cricked his neck from side to side, his crystal brain activating. "Has new name," drawled Wonjin, puffing out his impressive chest like the proud parent he undoubtedly was.
"Cool. What is it?" asked Jen, smiling and staring up at the big guy.
"Is not Baby Troll? Not her name?" asked a confused Woofer after dropping a slobber-covered red ball.
"No. Daughter's name is Jinwon." Wonjin reached out with an arm as large as a robust tree trunk and patted his daughter's head. Anyone else and they would have been crushed.
As if the touch activated her own much smaller brain, the youngster looked up at him and smiled.
"Jinwon?" I asked. "But that's just your name swapped around a little."
Wonjin stared at me for the longest time until we all assumed he'd gone to sleep, then he told me, "Is good name."
Guess that put an end to that conversation. "Yes, it's a great name," I agreed. I bent and asked Jinwon, "Do you like your name, Jinwon?"
"Jinwon, Jinwon, Jinwon," she laughed, then snatched Woofer's ball while he was distracted by her screams. "Is baby brother." She held it tight to her chest, cradling it like she was a mother.
"I think she likes it," chuckled Jen.
"I think you're right."
"Woofer need ball. Is mine." Woofer's ears flattened, his tail stopped spinning, and his eyes became large pools of sadness.
"Jinwon will give it back, won't you?" I asked sweetly, holding out my hand.
The miniature mountain screwed up her face and pulled back a stubby arm. "Is baby brother. Must get rest." With that, she ran, giggling, tottering perilously on her squat legs as she bombed about then pounced, shrieking, on a checkered football.
Woofer came up behind her a moment too late, barking furiously.
"I think we better try to stop her," said Jen, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"We've never been able to in the past. She keeps them for the rest of the day until she's asleep."
"But she's older now. Maybe we can reason with her."
We both laughed, as we knew there was no bloody chance of that happening. Young trolls are not the best listeners. They have an attention span shorter than Woofer's on a bad day when you're trying to explain maths to him whilst there's a bowl of sausages on the floor.
"Come on, let's at least try just so Woofer doesn't blame us." Jen and I held hands and followed Jinwon whilst Woofer fanatically ran around trying to remember where he'd left his various balls. For a dog who loved to play fetch, he was terrible at keeping track of them.
"No! Is Woofer's," lamented our distraught Lab as he pounced, too late, on an orange ball, one of his favorites, although they were all his favorite really.
"Is baby sister," said Jinwon happily as she lifted it high and slammed her free hand down repeatedly on Woofer's head, almost concussing the poor guy and making his legs buckle.
"Is not sister. Is ball."
"Yes, baby ball is little sister. Will be orange sister. So nice," giggled Jinwon as she stumbled rapidly through the garden, her keen eyesight clearly having spotted something Woofer hadn't.
He raced after her, but the rock toddler was too fast, little but a blur as she once again screamed in delight after emerging from the shrubs with a green tennis ball.
"Is Woofer's?" he asked me.
"I guess. I can't keep track of them all," I told him. "You should know."
"Yes, is Woofer's. Woofer needs it." With no luck, he tried a different tack. He sat obediently in front of Jinwon, did his best puppy dog expression, eyes wide and mournful, and asked sweetly, "Throw ball for Woofer?"
"No! Naughty dog," snapped Jinwon, holding both balls above her head. "Are not for playing. Is family."
Woofer hung his head and let out a low, mournful wail as Jinwon raced in her childlike way across the lawn yet again then leaped up and placed the balls in her father's arms. He didn't so much as twitch.
Hands free, Jinwon pelted down the garden with Woofer in tow, playing their game of hunt the ball, or in her case, hunt the family. Having once been a ball of rock, she was still convinced all balls were her brothers and sisters, and seemingly never tired of the game when she was active in the afternoons and wanted to play.
It still hadn't occurred to Woofer to put his balls in one place, and maybe that place should be somewhere Jinwon never went. But it kept him on his toes and he needed the exercise, so it was a shame to intervene.
Plus, I liked the time it meant I spent with Jen. With her growing so fast, and deep into teenage angst mode, it was one of the rare moments we got to have carefree fun these days. Reliving old times when she was a child without a worry in the world made my heart sing, yet feel disturbingly sad at the same time.
Just like Tyr, Jen was rather serious these days, and sometimes I worried that she would never smile again. And then we had these perfect interludes where we were both carefree. I knew that this was just part of growing up, but it pained me anyway. Why couldn't she stay being my little girl? I guess in my eyes she always would be, but damn, she was as tall as her mother already and the rate at which she was changing was dizzying.
"Quick, get it," giggled Jen as she dragged me across the grass and we both launched at a half-deflated football. Woofer pounced from the other side, but Jinwon was faster than us all and we bumped into the pint-sized troll and came to a very sudden, very painful halt.
"Baby troll hard," complained Woofer as he batted at his nose.
"She sure is," I agreed, rubbing my elbow.
"Play new game now?" asked Jinwon.
"Maybe later," I told her, aware of the signs signifying she was about to crash. "You go back to Daddy. Have a rest."
"Okay," she said brightly, then it was like a switch flipped and she suddenly dropped the ball, Woofer nabbed it and ran off gleefully, and the toddler staggered slowly back to her father, each step more lethargic than the last. Once at his side, her shoulders sagged, her eyes closed, and she was still for another day.
"Let's get a cold drink. I'm parched," I told Jen.
"Me too. It's really hot today."
"Sure is. But not like it used to be."
"I heard it's a degree cooler all over the world. That's two degrees in two decades. Think we've fixed everything?"
I stopped, and answered honestly. "I think we've done as much as we are ever likely to. I think we've turned the tide on it and things are improving more than anyone expected. Everything is about as good as it's going to get, but they don't want us to know that."
"Dad, you're such a conspiracy theorist," laughed Jen, punching me playfully on my arm.
