Twilight Lands
Finn Sinclair
Twilight
Lands
(A satire)
Finn Sinclair
2022
Cover Art by Lorenz Stoer, public domain
Chapter 1
Jack ignored the fairy sitting at the secretary’s desk, walking past her without saying a word. “A package arrived for you, Mr. Assyrtiko,” Jack said, as he entered the hotel general manager’s office. “Delivery service dropped it off at the front desk with the morning run.” The big window on the far side of the desk had a view of pool, the hot tubs, and the extensive gardens with its trails leading to the outbuildings. The native, woven rug that framed the space in front of the desk was deep browns with magical creatures, some real and some not, prancing around the border.
The tall man with a head of greying hair signaled Jack to come in and to close the door. As Jack approached the executive desk, his boss pushed back from the paperwork and sunk into the depth of his chair. “The timing is good,” he said, “It’s probably my stomach meds.”
The general manager reached over the sideboard and grabbed a boxcutter concealed in a length of odd-looking bone. Pushing the knife across the desk, he indicated that he wanted Jack to open the box and fish out the contents. With practiced ease, Jack sliced through the tape, tossing the bubble wrap on the floor. After reading the labels, he handed over the two large containers containing one hundred caplets each.
“Jeez, this stuff is pretty strong, Mr. Assyrtiko,” Jack said. “Your stomach must be really bad. Why don’t you use the shaman on retainer, instead? Their medications are usually safer and more effective.”
“Thank you for the advice, Jack,” Mr. Assyrtiko said as he placed the bottles in his desk drawer. “The last time I took that advice, in fact, I think you gave me that recommendation, I had fish scales erupt and cover my body for a month. I don’t want to repeat that experience in my life ever again.”
“I hear you,” Jack said, snagging a chair closer to the desk to sit. “The shaman did clear up all the rashes from the furnace ferns though. Plus, the treatment also removed all your acne scars and the appendectomy scar that you despised. Granted, the treatment did last longer than expected, but the added bonuses proved to me that this shaman is a winner.”
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement, Jack,” the manager said. “Let’s move on to the reason why I am eating my stomach from the inside out today. According to the expedited report from the Emiri palace physician, all the skin on the crowned prince’s body from the neck down has transformed into flaky strips of tree bark. His hair is sprouted evergreen needles, and his gonads resemble acorns. The king is beside himself and threatening all sorts of retaliation.”
“Our rules for guests clearly state, ‘do not approach the magic folk unless they indicate first that you may come near,’” Jack said. “The knobhead tried to rape a wood elf. What did he expect was going to happen?”
“He expected that he would get away with it, as he does in his father’s kingdom,” the manager said. “What he did, however, does not matter as far as the future of this resort is concerned. What matters is what are we going to do? Can we fix this?”
“Who would want to schtup a wood elf?” Jack asked with a scrunched face. “They’re like schtuping a tree knot, probably rip the skin off your dick just by rubbing. I mean, only a male wood elf can physically have sex with a female wood elf; no one else has the appropriate undercarriage.”
“Yes, they also appear stunningly gorgeous to the human eye until you attempt to have a conversation with one of them,” Mr. Assyrtiko said. “Anyone with half a brain can ascertain that a female wood elf is not an approachable sex partner after thirty seconds of conversation. They are wooden. We can assume our crowned prince did not bother to try talking; he simply grabbed her, attempting to force himself on her. Still, we are off topic. This incident could ruin us.”
“He comes from a small country,” Jack said. “We have the rest of the world who is fascinated with our little slice of ur-reality.”
“They are old petro-dollar money, Jack. The father can buy us a lot of grief, including the most pernicious canard, heresy against God and the holy scriptures. Do you think we can dodge a bunch of jihadi terrorists bent on saving the world from the magic? There are plenty of poor, ignorant bastards just itching for an excuse to take up arms...”
“... which would destroy the Compact between the human world and the magic world, totally obliterating the Twilight Lands and our little resort along with it,” Jack said, drumming his fingers on the chair arm.
“This potentate, if he puts his little mind to it, could destroy both worlds, Jack.”
“Good synopsis,” Jack said, giving the man a thumbs up. “What are we going to do about this situation?”
“Can we get the wood elves to lift the curse?”
Jack shook his head. “I already tried. There is no avenue to broach the subject with them. Even among the magic folk, no one particularly likes the arrogance of the wood elves. You must ask if you may ask before you even approach to ask them anything. If the prince had tried to fuck an ogre, we wouldn’t have had any of this nonsense.”
“Jack, what human being would want to fuck a walking, living, breathing rock? Don’t get me offtrack again. Can someone else lift the curse?”
Jack shook his head while pursing his lips.
The manager sighed. “We need a plan, Jack. We can’t paper over this one with an ad campaign.”
“Let me talk to some peoples and see what they have to say on the subject,” Jack said, rising from his seat. He glanced at the wall where the certificates of occupancy were posted along with various awards for design, service, and destination. The hanging pieces of paper seemed silly to him, but he knew each one represented a lure drawing curious humans with a dash of courage to the Twilight Lands.
“Jack, before you go, our new intern arrived last night. He is sitting in the lounge waiting for you by this time. His name is Bob.”
“His name is ‘Intern,’” Jack said as he reached for the door handle. “Don’t you dare coddle him behind my back. Either he survives or he doesn’t, and without a doubt, we will know quickly.”
“Your last intern was released from the psychiatric hospital two days ago because her health insurance expired,” Mr. Assyrtiko said. “Passport control has been notified she is blacklisted. Jack, let’s have less drama with this one. Put him on tranquilizers or something like we should have done with Kimmy.”
“The Orc envoy warned us about her,” Jack said as he opened the door. “We were wrong not to heed his advice of shipping her back immediately. She thought she could hide behind a great set of knockers and do this job. I’ll own that mistake, but the crowned prince – that’s on him. I hope they put a longevity spell on him too.” He shut the door behind him.
“Good morning, Annodomini,” Jack said to Mr. Assyrtiko’s secretary. “Your wings look radiant this morning.” The room smelled of her floral scent, which always reminded Jack of waves of flowers that covered everything in Kauai. Yet, she also brought a fresh mountain scent with her, one he had recently learned could be purchased in exchange for the brown glass bottles used for chemicals, under the table, of course. No need to alert customs.
“Ah, shove it up your ass, Jack,” she said. “I had him all buttered up for a raise and I know it was you that sabotaged it.”
“I never said a word,” Jack said with a frown. “If you remember, I told you when you asked me that I would stay out of it. Moreover, if you remember, I advised you that he is not comfortable with fae work rules and therefore, you should not offer him sexual favors.”
“Moreover, you’re an asshole,” she said.
“I’m not the one who offered him a blowjob, Annodomini. If you don’t want to take my advice, then don’t ask for it. For the record, your wings do look perky this morning.”
“My wings and not my tits? Fuck you, Jack.”
Jack was barely listening, expecting some lame retort from the spurned fairy. He was already back in the hallway, heading downstairs and towards the front of the building. The coffee service in the alcove next to the front desk was fresh and enticing. Jack paused to fill a cup. He sniffed the cup of sugar cubes, concerned that the kitchen staff had laced it with aphrodisiac again. He detected a slight actinic scent, but he could not be sure. He decided caution was a propitious path this morning and left with a plain cup of black coffee.
Peeking in the dining room, he counted twenty-two tables filled with guests, enjoying the morning views of the forest just beyond the grounds and the mountains in the distance. The huge windows appeared to sprout from the ground, rising far above the diners’ heads only to curve into the rest of the building at the last possible moment. Resort writers had called it “a million-dollar view” and little did they know how much it cost the resort to arrange for it. A million dollars was a little high but still in the ballpark.
Jack crossed the lobby, waving to the two front desk workers, one human and one orcan. They both waved, but only the orc winked, letting her purple tongue rub her upper lip for him. He stopped at the front door, catching the lead bellhop before he disappeared. Liam was a Welshman, who told anyone who listened that he had left his country, but his country never leaves him.
“My brother wants to talk to you,” Liam said, picking at his teeth with his fingernail. “The boiler is going to shite again and we don’t have the parts.” Jack said he would check in and hurried away. He did not want another distraction. On the other side of the lobby, he opened one of the heavy doors to the lounge. The young man waiting at one of the tables leapt to his feet, his nervous energy radiating from him.
“Welcome to Twilight Lands Resort and Spa,” Jack said. “I’m Jack, assistant manager, magic folk wrangler, and troubleshooter.”
“I’m Bob,” Bob said, holding out his hand to shake. “I’m your new intern.”
Jack stared at the man’s hand. “We don’t shake hands around here; it’s a good way to lose your entire limb with the wrong folk.”
“Oh, sorry,” Bob said, dropping his arm. “I didn’t know.”
“That’s why you’re an intern,” Jack said. “In fact, until such time that I feel I can trust you with all the magic folk around, your name is ‘Intern.’ This way they know, and you remember that you do not know what-in-the-hell you are doing. Got it?”
“Got it,” Intern said, his energy evaporating into discomfort.
“We have to go outside and inspect the grounds before we can let the guests roam freely,” Jack said. “Are you wearing sensible shoes?”
“Ah,” Intern said, looking down at his office dress shoes. “I assumed I would be learning the administrative stuff; at least, that is what the information packet said.”
“Do you have a pair of hiking boots with you,” Jack asked. “You are going to need them. If you don’t, sneakers will do for now. You could be up to your ankles in magical beast shit. There are two things you should know about magical beast shit, it smells worse than pig shit, and it wiggles and jiggles with magic microbes of delight. Go run and get better shoes. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Jack took a sip of coffee, realizing that whatever the kitchen crew wanted to slip into the guests this morning, it was in the coffee itself. He made himself a mental note to scream at the chef before the day was over. Last week, they had a textbook orgy around the poolside. Although most of the poolside guests thought the sudden sexual vigor was a miracle, Jack was feverishly calling for EMT support as the doddering codgers were waddling after the women with burgeoning willies. Thankfully for the men, they did not have to go far because their wives and lovers were similarly afflicted, demanding they crawl on board as they spread their legs obscenely wide, while their breasts sank down to their belly buttons or rolled off their rib cages.
In that moment, Jack learned that sex need not be pretty.
There were a few sprains, a lot of muscle pulls, and probably a few hernias in the process of emerging. The guests did not care. As one matronly woman told Jack as he iced down her hip, “If God strikes me dead in the next hours, it was worth it.”
Jack took his cup of coffee up to the front desk, placing it carefully on the counter. “Danica, dear,” Jack said to the human female, pleased to see her blouse and skirt were pressed and looking fresh. “Someone spiked the coffee this morning. Would you grab that urn and take it to the kitchen immediately? When you get there, please tell the executive chef that I want a fresh unadulterated urn of coffee ASAP and have him swap out the sugar while you are at it. Also inform him, loudly mind you, we have a contract with a new shaman who will be here later this morning to curse whoever disobeyed Mr. Assyrtiko’s orders. Thank you.”
“Certainly, Jack,” Danica said, as she pushed her high fashion frames back up on the bridge of her nose.
When she went closed the door behind her, the other clerk leaned over to Jack, “I don’t think she likes you much.”
“You misunderstand,” Jack said. “She plays for the other team. She doesn’t dislike me because I’m her boss, she does not like what I pack in my pants. She likes you better because she appreciates your assets.”
“Well, I like what you pack in your pants,” she said. “Have you fucked an orc yet? Once you pop the cork on an orc, you will realize how pale your ale has been.”
“I’ve never heard of corking an orc,” Jack said with a small smile. “How did I earn a sudden invitation from one of the delectable selections of Orc in the Twilight Lands?”
She snorted. “There is a running list in the back room of women who are singing your praises and only one or two of them are human, Jack. They say you have the knack in the sack. Well, I’ve got an itch in my kitch, and you’ve got the cure. You make sure you eat a good, filling dinner tonight because I’m going to be knocking at your door at 21:00 wearing one teeny-weeny bit of fabric and nothing else. You are going to use the magic in your stick and I’m going to rock your world.”
Jack looked both ways before adjusting the erection in his pants. “Sounds good. Could you do me one favor and burn that list before you come to my room?”
“Oh, honey,” she said, shaking her head. “That list is fireproof. There is not enough magic in the world to leave a scorch mark on it. Here comes your little boy. Maybe you can raise him right and we can put him out to stud. I’ve never done it with a blondie.”
Jack rolled his eyes before turning to face his intern. The man was wearing neon green high-tech running shoes and a sheepish grin. “Give me patience,” Jack muttered to himself.
Chapter 2
Having come down the long hallway and passing through the men’s locker room and showers, Jack opened the door to the pool deck. “Immediately across the way, Intern, is the exit from the Women’s locker room and showers. The second door down is the poolside exit from the health spa. The spa has another entrance/exit inside for guests who do not want to leave the security of the building. Got it?”
“Got it,” Intern said. “The building blocks the sun reaching the pool deck until what hour?”
“Ah, good question, grasshopper,” Jack said, knowing the reference would go over the man’s head. “Somewhere between 9:30 and 10:00, the sun will start creeping up the pool deck. These hours between sunrise and full sun are the most dangerous time to be on the deck. Nighttime creepy-crawlies are mostly shy and flee at the slightest disturbance. The predators who remain or emerge at dawn are the most likely to attack instead of fleeing. We have not lost a guest yet, but we have had to ship back a couple of human personnel for further treatment.”
Intern froze in his tracks. He looked around the cleared deck of poured concrete, which Jack knew would be clear and free of hazards. Jack cleared his throat and cocked his hips and crossed his arms.
“You are looking in the wrong places,” Jack said. “Look at the piles of stacked sunning beds; there are plenty of hidey-holes. The roof of the bar cabana is also a common place for the pouncing predators to lie in wait. Then there is the yellow line before the last run of concrete that leads out into the gardens. Think semi-sentient venus-flytraps on scorpion bodies that can leap a fair distance. Stay behind the yellow line until full sun. We have a team of trained orcs that clear the area before we unlock the pool area to guests. Those orange cones indicate they have been here and swept the area.”
“Do you trust them to be thorough” Intern asked, still frozen in place.
“They’re harvesting their breakfast,” Jack said with a laconic smile. “No one wants to skip breakfast, especially orcs who consider the greater world a non-stop buffet. They get their rendition of a tasty breakfast, and we get a safe and secure environment; everybody wins. Don’t come out here at midnight for a skinny dip, no matter what your companions promise.”
Intern swallowed. Seeming to remember he was standing with his supervisor, he drew in a deep breath and slowly dropped his shoulders. “Orange cones means safe to walk,” Intern said. “Got it.”
Jack walked out to the pool and stood by the steps. “The water is treated like any other commercial pool; it has the same chemicals, the same test kits, and the same schedules. Magical creatures don’t like chlorine or bromines much, so they tend to avoid the water. However, we have accidently imported mosquitoes, and they tend to huddle at the circumference of the pool at sunset where they are safer from the local predators. They will eat you alive, and here in the Twilight Lands, we speak only in the literal sense. Let’s walk out to the yellow line.”
Jack led the way around the pool, staying as far away from the shrubbery as he could. “Under this service cabana on the right side is a large standing vase containing umbrellas for the guests in case they want shade when they walk through the gardens. However, there are also several large walking sticks, each one-and-a-half to two meters tall. As an employee, you must carry one of these sticks when you walk through the gardens. You bang the ground with it every couple of feet, warning the creepy crawlies to stay away. Typically, you only need to worry about them in the early morning. Once the sun heats up the landscape, they disappear. Do you play baseball?”
Intern nodded that he did.
“Good,” Jack said. “If you see flying snakes coming at you, then hold the stick like a baseball bat and swing big. Don’t whiff. You don’t have to aim for the head, you can hit the middle of the body because they are delicate, going down quick from a medium-sized blow. Even a soft blow will knock them off course. Hand me a stick and take one for yourself.”
Jack hefted his stick and twirled it a few times in his hand. “All of our walking sticks have been certified by one of the local shamans as kosher.”
Intern gave him a funny look, “They’re Jewish?”
“Shorthand, my apologies,” Jack said. “They’re agnostic pagans, for the record, I’m pretty sure but don’t quote me. Use only these sticks because they don’t carry curses. The locals carry staves that you only touch with their permission. Also, you don’t pick up anything in the fields or the forests because any object could be cursed. In fact, these sticks are prepped for enchantments if you are magically capable of wielding them. We will test your potential later.
“See that flat blue stone at the edge. If you hit it two times with your stick, it will summon our groundskeeper, Burpee-Do. We do not let our guests wander the gardens without an escort. Burpee-Do or one of his children always guides our guests on the property. Not only do they provide running commentary, they act as bodyguards. They’re dwarf elves, and as a magical people, they are adept at weaving magic like the gunslingers of old would shoot from the hip. It’s said they can bring down a full-grown olliphantus at two hundred paces without breaking a sweat.”
“Olliphantus?” Intern asked.
“Think of a double-sized elephant with tentacles and a predator’s taste for organ meat,” Jack said. “During rutting season, they’re unmanageable.”
“Is there hazard pay included in this employment?” Intern said, gripping the stick tightly with both hands.
“Phsst,” Jack said, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand. “There isn’t an olliphantus within a hundred kilometers of here, probably. Anyways, interns are a dime a dozen. We do pay a death and dismemberment benefit for all our employees though. Ah, our guide has arrived.”
A dwarf standing no taller than one of the walking sticks appeared from between a clump of bushes. Several earrings dangled from each of his pointed ears. There were grey hairs in his goatee and his black hair was pulled back in a bun. He was dressed like any farmer one would find in Southeast Asia.
“You rang, Paleface,” he growled.
Jack turned to Intern, “One of the former interns introduced them to spaghetti westerns in the employee lounge. He thought he was doing a cultural exchange that would bring understanding and empathy between our races. Now, I’ve got to deal with this shit every day.”
Jack swirled the stick in his hand. “Cut the crap, Burpee. I’m already running late, and I’ve got a new intern to break in and train before he accidently offs himself.”
Burpee looked Intern up and down. “He looks strong and healthy. Would he be interested in buying one of my daughters? Excellent bedwarmers on cold, desert nights. Special, this week only, I guarantee the best daughters in the county.”
“Ignore him,” Jack said to Intern. “No one sells daughters in the Twilight Lands or in the Magic Lands for that matter. His wives keep his balls locked in a magic canister next to his bedside. If he behaves during the day, they let his balls out for the evening.”
“He has multiple wives?” Intern asked.
“I have four wives, Intern,” Burpee-Do said. “We have four sons and seven daughters. Don’t believe everything this paleface says. My wives are always satisfied, my children are happy, and I hold great honor in my tribe with the magic we generate. Plus, I’m getting a higher rate of return on my real estate investments than you can imagine in your fondest dreams.”
“Some tribes are polygamous, and others are polyandrous,” Jack said. “No matter what he says, do not give him your money to invest. Like magic, money disappears; only, it’s not magic.”
“Paleface speaks with forked tongue, Intern,” Burpee-Do said. “You look robust, unlike the last one. I will have my daughters check you out this evening. They will determine if you have any starch in your pants.”
“Promises, promises,” Jack said. “No breaking the intern until I am done with him. We need to go the barns. Please lead the way, Burpee-Do.”
As they wound through the gardens, they emerged from the shadow of the great resort into the morning sunlight. Birds were flitting through the air and twittering. Their odd and jarring colors reminding the humans they were not walking through the human realm. A falcon-like raptor swept down silently and seized a fluorescent brown bird in its tentacles, before it let out an unearthly screech and pulled up.
“Nature is metal,” Jack said, pointing at the departing bird. “Eat or be eaten.”
Intern asked softly, “Does Burpee-Do really have a real estate portfolio?”
“Yes,” Jack said. “I do as well, but I’m much more conservative with an eye on the long term. He is more akin to a speculator like a lot of magic folk. They’ve driven up prices in the Twilight Lands to the stratosphere in the past several years. I believe we are in a bubble that is about to burst and ruin a lot of investors. Stick to index funds; they are more stable. Wait, you’re an intern; you don’t have any money. Well, no money, no worries and only problems.”
They came to the first outcropping of rocks, which looked suspiciously unapproachable. The boulders rose above their heads. The large slabs mixed in with the rounded boulders were jumbled, laying on each other every which way. A hive of unfamiliar insects was buzzing around a crevice at the top of the pile.
“The locals call this outcropping a godpile,” Jack said. “They believe one of the gods drank all night and crapped here. Afterward, the god didn’t have the decency to bury it like the rest of us would. The explanation is just a good as any other because the obvious rule is ‘don’t touch anything.’ Fossilized god crap is potent shit. They attract bees like that swarm up at the top. Bees are wild magic in these lands, and they are attracted to places of the same wild magic. Don’t get stung by a bee because no one knows what magic will be released. You could become a god, lose all your hair, or turn into a fossilized god turd. They are the best pollinators though and a fixture in any decent garden. If you get cornered out here by predators, tap the rock with your stick and then point it at your attacker. Something will happen.”
“Is there anything that will not kill me out here?” Intern asked.
“Most of the land is benign or friendly. The natives are friendly. However, the bad stuff is dreadful. You can see the first barn over there, peeking out from that last stand of trees. When we take guests on their first tour of the gardens, we end up at the first barn where we serve them tea and crumpets. Truth be told, it’s scones but they suck up the fairytale crap like its Kool-Aid. Always taste the tea first before they serve it to guests, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Intern asked.
“Someone in the kitchen got sloppy with the teas,” Jack said. “Some teas are for guests, and some are for our local employees. A few guests had some pleasant hallucinations for an afternoon with one guest reporting to us afterward that it was quote, ‘ten times better than dropping acid,’”
“After a few days at this job, I may need some of that local tea,” Intern said.
“You’ve been on the job for an hour,” Jack said. “Buck up. Besides, consuming hallucinogenic substances during work hours is strictly forbidden unless you are the food taster for the guests. You could get lucky.”
They traipsed through the garden, stopping at various bushes, flowers and the occasional tree where Burpee-Do launched into a recitation of the importance of the plant. As they stood under a spreading umbrance tree, a squirrel-like creature scrambled up Burpee-Do’s leg and climbed up his shirt to perch on his shoulder. The third eye never blinked at the same time as the two underneath. As the gardener continued speaking, the creature rummaged through Burpee-Do’s hair for a moment. He retrieved something of interest in his little paws and proceeded to pop the thing in its mouth. The creature chewed vigorously, burped, yawned, and then departed. The elf continued talking as if the creature did not exist. When he finished his spiel, he declared that the creature was his fifth daughter’s pet and he wanted to strangle the damn thing, but he had to practice respect for all magic’s creatures.
“My fifth daughter has big titties,” Burpee-Do said to Intern. “The whole family is proud of them.”
“We’re behind schedule,” Jack said. “Let’s escort Intern to the barn before Soren has a fit.”
“The man’s temper will be the death of us all,” Burpee-Do said. “They’re all like that after a certain age. What in magic’s name were the gods thinking? Follow me.”
They followed a distinct path that led them into a field of bright mauve flowers. The petals still glistened in the morning sun as insects flew from white stamen in the middle of each flower to the next. The meadow looked serene.
“Don’t let guests smell the flowers,” Jack said. “They will drop where they stand and it’s a long way back to carry them over your shoulder. The pollen is an ether derivative, a lucrative export for the corporation. Don’t let them touch the petals either. Those drops are not dew but insect poison. The roots of these flowers are carnivorous. The poison does not usually affect humans but anyone with sensitive skin could be vulnerable. Keep them on the path and you will be fine.”
They reached the other end of the meadow. Through the tall trees with drooping branches, they could see the barn. They continued down the path, passing through the tall wooden gate whose face was stapled with a heavy gauge metal mesh. “Don’t touch the mesh, it’s electrified,” Jack said to Intern as they passed through the opening. “The wire attracts flying snakes and a few other things, frying them quick. You can stand outside the barn without having to keep an eye on the trees because of the electrified fence.”
Burpee-Do said his goodbyes quickly and raced back into the gardens as if he had pressing business. Jack pointed out the blue stone just inside the yard for summoning the gardener for escort. With an arm wave, he motioned Intern to follow him up to the barn, where they slipped in through the side door.
“Soren,” Jack called out as the scent of horse funk assaulted their nostrils.
“You’re late,” a deep voice bellowed out from somewhere further back.
“The brochure said you had horses,” Intern said as he stepped into the center of the barn with stalls on both sides.
“What the hell are you doing in my barn without an escort, human!” a nearly three-meter-tall centaur yelled as he stormed towards Intern. Intern yelped and slid behind Jack, trembling.
Chapter 3
“What is that?” Intern whispered, as he looked over Jack’s shoulder.
“Soren Kicking-Guard, meet the new intern,” Jack said.
“Ah, hello puny human intern,” Soren said. “You look just as small and insignificant as the other interns. Keep your trap shut and you might learn something.”
“How’s your back, Soren,” Jack asked as he ran a practiced eye across the length of the barn.
“My back is a work of art,” Soren said. “I never knew how many ways my bones could cause me pain in new and interesting forms. The creator god must have been jerking off in the corner when he created the centaur. Trying to ram a horse’s spine up a primate’s body and making it last for a lifetime was a fool’s errand. My father warned me, but I didn’t listen.”
“Sorry to hear,” Jack said. “How’s the wife?”
“Oo, with a big swinging set of knockers, her back is worse than mine.” Soren said. “If we sit on our hind legs, we can manage the pain better, but our hips cramp and ache from the unnatural position after a while. We heard a rumor about a new device based on the back braces you apes use when you have a bad back. They’ll probably charge me a hoof and fetlock for one. We’ll see.”
“If both you and your wife are having difficulties, who is running the ranch?” Jack asked.
“My eldest daughter,” Soren said. “Martane High-Digger is already known on the rodeo circuit as a tough, committed competitor. I have the utmost confidence in her abilities to run the ranch. Meanwhile, the wife is sending the youngest daughter down here to the resort to work with me. She has still got a lot of filly in her and could use the discipline of a horse whip or two.”
“I didn’t know centaurs were into that sort of thing,” Jack said. “I learn something new every day.”
“Wait until I put that horse whip in your hand, Jack. You are going to learn a whole lot of new,” Soren said as he roared with laughter. “Uh, Jack, your intern is turning bright red and panting. I think he might be hyperventilating.”
“He’s an intern; it’ll pass,” Jack said. “How many horses are good for trail riding today? I think we have ten reservations for the 10:30 ride.”
“I already traded messages with Danica. I have twelve prepared to take the trail today,” Soren said. “The shaman explained to me twice what he fed the last stud horse you sent over, but damn if I could understand what all he said. The bottom line is we have more pregnant mares than we anticipated, and I have no idea how that horny bastard climbed over the fences to knock them up. Maybe the shaman gave him wings. We will be tight for slots this season, but you are going to make bank on the one-year foals. He put many a centaur to shame, I tell you, a high-powered procreating machine.”
The centaur looked over at Intern. “I am explaining I had horses fucking day and night in the pasture and in the barn for weeks, Intern. He had a big horse dick, longer than your arm. You think you can handle that, or are you going to faint on us?”
Jack shrugged when Intern said nothing. “I have a number of issues to address this morning, Soren, and yet I also have an intern to train. I would like to keep this one intact and moving through the program. Perhaps, you could assign one of your assistants to show him through the barns and explain how this part of the operation works. I would appreciate the effort.”
“You must have really screwed the pooch if you’re asking politely,” Soren said. “Mawdlyn, stop eavesdropping and get your keester up here,” he yelled towards the back. “She is one of the new passel of orcs we hired last week. She was in a sorry state. We put some meat on her bones all week, and she is raring to go, grateful too.”
The young orc walked forward with her chin up and her canines gleaming. She stopped in front of the centaur and nodded her head. “What do you need, sir?”
“Mawdlyn, I’m Jack.”
Mawdlyn interrupted him, jumping up and down excitedly. “Jack? The Jack?” You’ve come to get me? Is it my turn tonight?”
Jack rubbed his temples. “Mawdlyn, your charms are apparent for all to see. However, you are new and need some more time to recover from your trials and tribulations. You also need to prove yourself. This human behind me is our new intern at the resort, and he needs to be taught everything about the barns, the horses, the unicorns, and what we do here. Today is his first day, so please do not break him. No hanky-panky. You are also responsible for escorting him back to the main building when you are done. His name is Intern and Soren will explain further. Do you understand?”
“No hanky-panky,” she said, kicking away the hay laying on the ground. “I’ll be a good girl.”
“Start him in the tack room, girl,” Soren said, pointing his thumb backward. He watched Mawdlyn and Intern disappear in the back before turning to Jack. “What is the ‘shit hitting the fan’ problem, now?”
“You remember that Arab prince that tried to fuck a wood elf a few weeks ago?” Jack said.
“Yeah, he was a massive hemorrhoid waiting to burst and bleed out.”
“After his father saw the curse the wood elves whacked him with and how it is not going away, he began threatening a religious jihad against us,” Jack said. “He could do it.”
“A strong threat requires a strong response, Jack” Soren said, rubbing his chin. “You may want to consider sending a jackal after the family. A jackal is a huge, blunt instrument, but it gets the job done.”
“Huge, blunt instruments come with a bucket full of consequences, Soren. One of those consequences may be adding fuel to the jihadi fire. I mean, killing people is usually considered poor problem solving. I’m concerned that magic doesn’t have the solution we need to get the best resolution.”
“I can see your point,” Soren said. “You need a human solution. You need to hire one of those truly evil, slimy bastards you humans raise up and train for years. What are they called?”
“Lawyers?”
“No, we’ve got the lying-tongue money grabbers here too, usually dark elves,” Soren said. “You guys send these humans to other countries to assassinate people with long speeches and huge tomes of wordy non-promises.”
“Oh, you mean diplomats,” Jack said. “The Twilights Lands have few of those, except for the ogres. Maybe we should get some of them. You’ve given me the first original idea I’ve had on the subject. Thank you.”
“Add it to your ‘You are in my debt’ list,” Soren said. “What else is on the feasting plate?”
“Have you talked to Ralph lately?”
“No,” Soren said. “I’m not going to talk to him either. The lazy fat toad can fend for himself as far as I’m concerned. Everything is a trial and trauma with him. He moans like an old man sitting constipated on the shitter. He smells like it, too. Where is his dignity and his hygiene? Even the ogres are offended, and we know how little they care about worldly affairs. Sorry, I can’t help you with that problem.”
“I understand,” Jack said, rubbing the hair on the back of his head. “I think I’ll take Intern to visit him tomorrow.”
“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Soren said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You can’t keep running these interns off the property and back to the human lands. Assyrtiko can only do so much, and he is suffering. His wife is refusing to return after the cleaning staff put erection powder in his talcum jar.”
“They were trying to help,” Jack said. “I’ve got Hollandaise, Mornay, and Remoulade keeping him company at night, now. They’re already top billing in the lounge; they can sing, and their burlesque is a work of art. They’re saucy. Best of all, they appreciate the talcum powder mixture. Your point is valid, though. He needs more managers to carry the workload. I thought Danica would be ready to promote but she hates my guts.”
“You screw every woman who works with her,” Soren said. “Just saying.”
“She’s a lesbian,” Jack said. “I’ve never made a hint of invitation to her.”
“She is not a lesbian.”
“She told me she only liked women.”
“She lied to you. She beds men when she’s got an itch. I know for a fact she spent a few nights in the guesthouse next to mine.”
Jack threw up his hands. “She lied to me? She must really hate my guts.”
“Perhaps she is put off by your wanton ways, Jack.”
“Wanton?”
“You’re a man whore, Jack. If there is a willing female within a league of your presence, you are ready and willing. You stand up and women swoon.”
“I rarely had a date in the human lands, Soren. Human females rejected me left and right.”
“The Twilight Lands agree with you and offer you their bounty,” Soren said. “Surprising but not unique. You don’t have to be a man whore about it though. Real men seek out a mate or two or three and settle down to build a life. Let the grouchy old centaur be the one to tell it to you straight: it’s time to grow up.”
“Hmmph,” Jack said. “The morning is still fresh, and work is going from bad to worse. I act like I have the running of the resort under control, but all I’ve managed is controlled chaos. Let the magic judge me, I have not thrown myself at one woman here. Even when I try to go to bed alone, they come knocking on my door.”
“Oh, that’s a good tale for the tavern after a raft of ale,” Soren said. “I know it will take a keg of the good stuff to believe that story. What do you want? Sympathy?”
“We are still early morning and the new orc at the front desk already told me she will be at my door tonight? I was giving Danica orders to dump the coffee, that’s all.”
“Which one? Quine? She’s got issues; nothing she says is logical.”
“No, her name is Spin. She’s the one with the two rubies in her right ear,” Jack said.
“Oza clan?” Soren with his hand on his chin. “Demi-gods and demons, Jack, you’re playing with murdy mukluk. I hope you’re not too attached to your dick, because it’s going to be a stub by morning. There’s a reason that Oza women have more than one husband. One’s on deck while the others are in rehab. I’ve heard it said the Oza men describe their marriage as tag-team wrestling and only the men tag out.”
“Then, what do I say to Spin Oza?” Jack said. “I love this place, but no one guided me through an internship. Sure, I learned about orc clans and tribal politics, mostly how to stay far away from those conversations. However, no one mentioned an orc clan renowned for fucking a man to death. I’m not as tough as an orc, Soren.”
“Tell her the truth,” Soren said. “If you want to be a part of the magic, then give back to the magic its due. Earn yourself a bonus point and have the conversation with Spin Oza in front of Danica; maybe you will solve two problems at the same time. Magic is meant for the good, Jack; it’s people who make it bad.”
“Free and unfettered sex with consensual partners does not make me a man whore. The proper term is ‘gigolo’ and I have neither the exploding pectorals nor the embossed abdominals to qualify as one,” Jack said. “I don’t even ask them to come back because when I offer, all they give is that specific enigmatic smile and the wink. The wink in the morning after sex is a killer. Why can’t they brush their teeth, kiss me on the check, and wish me a good day?”
Soren roared with laughter. He held his belly until he squeaked in pain, prompting him to grab his lower back. “How the demi-god Smegma is torturing your foreskin, you ignorant ape. Who told you that sex is about your dick?”
“Coach Benson in seventh grade,” Jack said. “He taught, ‘if I touch a girl anywhere on her body with my penis, I could get her pregnant.’ Thus, I learned that the penis is the center of the universe, and even in a non-magical world, has powerful magic no other body part can duplicate. He coached American football.”
“American football, you say,” Soren said, “Like Orc tribal politics, I will not touch that one. Your team names confused us greatly, leading us to conclude falsely that humans were a collection of primitive animists. Of course, today we know better. Humans are typically idolators, bowing down to strange gods, imprinting their names on your clothes and worldly possessions. Who is this god ‘One Size Fits All?’ Is he the god of dildoes?”
“I sound like my boss, but I think you are getting us offtrack,” Jack said. “We were discussing sex, the penis, and its place in the copulation between two people.”
“No, Jack, we were discussing the magic,” Soren said. “In the human lands, sex is the rutting of two creatures whose foundational instinct is procreation. In the magic worlds, sex is, well, magic for want of a better world. Either we come together and create magic, or we come together and fail to create magic. Magic does not care if sex is one dick, two dicks, or no dicks – another one of the human obsessions that puzzle us.
“I digress. When your actress in the big movie responds to the question, ‘how was last night?’ with, ‘It was magical,’ I understand her as implying that all other times she had sex were a failure, even though they copulated. If you have already created magic in the night, there is no reason to wish the other a good morning because you have already confirmed it.”
“I create magic,” Jack said, more to himself than to the centaur. “Sometimes I need to be reminded.”
“Humans,” the centaur puffed. “Fine, I’m telling you. Jack, you create magic. Jack, you use magic. Jack, your dick is not magic; it’s just a dick.”
“Thank you, Soren. You have sent another fantasy to the graveyard of dreams to rot. Let me pick up my ego off the dirty floor, and I’ll make my way back to my other duties.”
Chapter 4
“The new intern traveled all the way to the barns without incident, Mr. Assyrtiko,” Jack said. He stood in the doorway as the general manager looked down from his window at the pool deck. Soren will make sure he returns by the evening.”
“Good, good,” Mr. Assyrtiko said absently as he slowly turned back to his desk. “The new projections came down from the accountant while you were out. We are nearly in the black this month and our guest list is healthy and growing slowly through the end of the season. We may turn a profit this year just on bookings.”
“Our exports have us safely in the black,” Jack said. “We’re in good shape.”
“Our extra-legal exports are subject to the vagaries of customs officials and politicians with other agendas,” the general manager said. “Misguided humans speculate there are great fortunes to be made exploiting the resources of the Twilight Lands. Despite the safeguards, these speculators are still dangerous to our enterprise.”
“I refuse to worry about problems that we have already addressed with sensible and comprehensive safeguards,” Jack said. “I will keep my eyes and ears open, but I will lean into our staff and shaman-blessed walls to maintain the safety.”
Jack shuffled his feet. “One more item came up. We have a new orc on staff from one of the core clans. I’m going to speak with her now, but we may have to dismiss her because she is too dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“She could fuck a human to death in one session,” Jack said. “This clan’s women have to maintain multiple husbands to keep up with their appetites. We have no one on staff who can accommodate her stamina.”
“What? You haven’t figured out a way to monetize her assets?” Mr. Assyrtiko said. “I am disappointed in you, Jack.”
Jack grabbed the doorhandle. “She is part of the magic, a significant part it seems. We respect the magic and in return, the magic fills our resort. Wish me luck.” Jack closed the door without waiting for a reply.
“The great Jack is intimidated by an Oza,” Annodomini said. “I was looking forward to your comeuppance, watching you crawl back here bruised and broken. Who broke the confidence and told you? When I find out who, I’ll make sure they’re beaten to a probiotic paste.”
Jack leaned over desk and got in her face. “The issue is respect for the magic, the core lesson you have apparently forgotten, Annodomini. I’m thinking of recommending a leave of absence without pay for you until your chieftain signs off that you fully embrace the magic and all its obligations. At this moment, I don’t think you will be able to return.”
Annodomini swallowed, saying nothing. She looked down at her lap as her wings curled in tightly. Jack left.
Jack poured himself another cup of coffee from the refilled urn. He took a sip, rolling the liquid around his tongue. Satisfied that he could trust the contents, he walked around the corner to the front desk. He watched silently out the front window as the great carriage, loaded with luggage on the back rack, lurched forward as four Clydesdale horses leaned into their task. When the carriage disappeared down the drive, Jack stepped up to the desk.
“The sight of the carriage departing is still impressive to me,” Jack said, “definitely better than the beer commercials.”
“You call that ‘American piss’ beer?” Liam chimed in. “God, what I wouldn’t do for a decent pint. I’d even drink a Guinness.”
Danica snapped her fingers twice to get Jack’s attention. “At least we are far beyond the debacle with the unicorns,” she said. “These horses look sharp, and they take command.”
“Live and learn,” Jack said, “which brings me to my visit at the front desk. Spin, I want to thank you for your invitation this evening. I am flattered and in awe that a woman of the Oza clan would extend such an important request to me.”
“Yes, my offer is significant, Jack,” Spin said with a wide grin that emphasized her lower canines.
Jack felt a bead of sweat gathering on his forehead. “May I inquire how many husbands your mother has?”
Spin chuckled. “Such a naughty question. Mommy has five husbands currently. However, Husband un and Husband deux are starting to look haggard and worn of late. I fear they will have to forego their rights sooner rather than later. Even Oza men have their limits.”
“As I learned this morning,” Jack said. “I was also reminded that any, uh, intimacy between us must be simpatico with the magic, and I fear that I did you a terrible disservice.”
He took a measured breath and released it. “I am not Oza, nor do I have any illusion that I could maintain the magic in any length or duration of your mother’s husbands. Spin, I cannot create magic with such a powerful being such as yourself.”
“Ah, you’re young and you’re strong; you would survive,” Spin said, twiddling one of her earrings.
“You could be correct,” Jack said, nodding, “but I would be terrified and in no manner would we be adding to the magic.”
Spin broke into tears. “I just wanted to have a little fun before I got married. Do you know how hard it is to stay in control when one is an Oza orc? My mother is well into her forties, and she still requires five men to keep her stable. She is like one of your new-klee-are generators, powerful and throbbing with energy. You could harness one of the moons to her ass and still have magic left over to rotate the day into night.”
“I’m only human,” Jack said.
“Born to make mistakes,” Danica sang softly from the corner.
Jack pointed his finger at her. “You are not helping, and you are dating yourself: 80’s British rock. Big, blown out blond hair? Really?” He turned back to the orc. “Spin, if you need several Oza men to maintain, then why did you come to the resort to work, Jack asked.
“I hoped your cock could change the magic,” Spin said. “Hemming and Vay said ‘you rocked their world’ and I thought that meant you changed the magic in them. If you could change the magic in me, then I could avoid the same fate as my mommy.”
Jack grasped the cool stone of the counter to give him some balance. “Hemming and Vay picked up a terrible human habit of talking in slang, of using words and phrases that are fanciful or disingenuous. What they were saying is that our fucking changed their perspective on what magic is, not that I changed their magic. I can create magic with them, but I cannot change the nature of it.”
“You were my last hope,” she wailed softly with tears running down her face.
“Yes, Obi Wan,” Danica said, “You are our only...”
Jack shot her a bird with his middle finger, shutting up Danica. “What do you want to do, Spin?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Okay,” Jack said, running his hand through his hair. “Why don’t you go to the restroom and wash your face? Take a few minutes to get back in the work mindset and then come back to the front desk. You’re a good employee and the guests like you. Discuss your options with someone you trust and give me your answer by dinner tonight.”
When she departed, Danica stepped forward to stand in front of Jack. “The great Jack finally stepped on his dick, and I was here to witness it.”
Jack cocked his head as he considered his next words. The sneer on her face was off putting, contorting beautiful features into a humorless caricature. He shook the image out of his thoughts.
“Danica, this confrontation was about Spin and Spin only. On top of that misperception, you were a horrible friend to her. I did not know you could be that cold.”
Jack looked her up and down. “I just realized that the only person who uses the term “the great Jack” is Annodomini, and for the record, she is probably on her way out for insubordination. I would recommend you choose your sources of information and gossip more carefully.”
Danica started to protest but Jack held up his hand to stop her from speaking. “Last and really the only point you need to ponder, Danica, is you have no fucking clue how the magic works. You misheard this entire conversation. You believe my conversation with Spin was about my dick, when this tragedy was about magic and each of us, our responsibility to the magic. If you don’t know why you are unhappy here, if you don’t know why you resent me, then you do not understand magic. You do not know how magic is created and used, or how users work with it. No matter how great your administrative skills and evaluations are, if you cannot learn the magic, then your tenure in the Twilight Lands is a failure.”
Jack began walking away before he hesitated. Looking back, he said, “I want you to succeed, Danica. There is a promotion waiting for you here, but only if you can learn the magic. One postscript, Danica: don’t ever lie to me again. Magic, don’t you know.”
Jack walked around the corner, barely able to hold in the snort. He traveled down the hallway to his own office. His space was small and confined, and the wall was a solid set of bookshelves, filled with binders, travel souvenirs and magical knickknacks. “Magic, don’t you know,” he said to the wobbly kewpie doll. “I cannot believe I just stole a line from ‘My Little Pony’ about the magic of friendship. The puerile depths to which I’m willing to fish astounds me these days.”
A thump from the doorway jerked Jack out of his morose thoughts. A four-legged tahtel posed in the doorway with its red tongue lolling at the side of its mouth. Guests sometimes got upset when they saw the forked tongue for the first time; however, the raccoon-like creatures were docile. The kitchen crew swore at them for sneaking into the cooking areas and snitching unattended food, but the rest of the staff appreciated them. They were omnivorous, eating anything that snuck into the resort from insects to semi-sentient slimes to small, furry woodland creatures.
Their most adorable trait was they liked to cuddle. When they scratched on the pants legs, forcing the target to look into violet limpid eyes, all resistance dissipated. Refusing to attempt another contest of wills, Jack lifted the critter into this lap as he sat in his desk chair. The tahtels had their favorites and this one with unique nearly blond stripes on his face was named “Aris.” One of the trolls who worked in the fabrication workshop explained which tahtel was named what. Tahtels were found throughout the magic lands but preferred to build their mating burrows near trolls.
“Aris Tahtel, what am I going to do with you,” Jack said as he stroked the creature’s back. “I’ve got a wheelbarrow full of worries and no solutions. I had the rug pulled out from under my feet this morning, and it’s my own fault. I feel like I just got up to speed and now I should settle down. What does the magic want of me?”
Aris moved his head under Jack’s hand. Jack took the hint and began scratching at the ears where they met the skull. Aris rumbled with pleasure, sounding like he had a bass drum in his chest. “If only everything could be solved with decent scritches in all the right places, right Aris?” The tahtel rumbled more as if he had answered.
Jack stared out the window, tracking one of Burpee-Do’s sons leading an expedition of guests through the garden. He led the party through one of deactivated gates, carved out of stone with an unearthly sheen. The sides of the gate were two dragons whose snouts met over the top lintel. The legends say that the gods used these gates to pour magic into the world like a waterfall pours water into the pond below. He shuddered at the thought as he reviewed his conversation with the centaur. He had plotted coming to the Twilight Lands and using the magic for his own ends, scraping some magic skills, and promoting some exports even if it meant smuggling. Instead, he learned today that the magic had been using him all along, drawn like a bee to honey. He was well and truly enmeshed in the living fabric.
He wondered if that was a bad thing.
Chapter 5
“Intern, you return in one piece,” Jack said, eying the man as he stepped onto the pool deck. “This is good news. Thank you, Gee-em, for escorting him back to me. While I’ve got you here, Gee-em, do you know which sister is coming this evening to examine Intern?”
“First Mother is in a mood today and father is hiding somewhere, leaving his children to deal with her,” Gee-em said. “Berks, who is Shire today should get the honor, but Hatha is the one prepping the Divining Way. The back forty went to shit today and the shire is responsible when that happens, which is probably why first mother is pissed off and father is nowhere to be found. I think Berks as Shire stepped in the horse apples. I guess Hatha is the Way tonight. As for me, I scored a half-keg of dwarven mead at the market today, and I’m taking my brothers away from the showdown at the OK corral this evening.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Jack said to Gee-em, wishing him well. He looked at Intern, “Did you follow a word he said?”
Intern shook his head. Jack noticed the deep circles under his intern eyes and made an executive decision. “Staff dinner is in an hour and half in the employee dining room next to the kitchen. You will see a side hallway. Go to your room, shower, and take a nap. Set your alarm because you need to be at dinner on time. Before you come down, clean up your room. You will have at least one guest tonight. Questions?”
“Guest?”
“Yes, someone will come to your room after dinner to test your affinity for the magic. Burpee-Do and his wife, Slurpee-Do, will send one of their daughters who has been preparing the test this afternoon. It should not hurt. If your guest suggests something, anything, the proper answer is ‘yes, thank you.’ Everything she says and does is part of the test. The good news is, there is nothing for which you can study. We’re good?”
Intern looked one step away from a breakdown.
“Cheer up,” Jack said. “You survived the unicorns.”
“Nasty little bastards,” Intern said. “The stench alone is enough to send a person running. No one mentioned a smell of putrefied pig guts roasting slowly over a smoky fire in the fairytales. They barely come up to your knees, but their horns are at a perfect height to spear your balls. They tried. The little demons want to emasculate any male who comes near and mount any female who is available.”
“Ah, nomenclature,” Jack said. “Demons are a real thing here, albeit rare ones. Unicorns are nasty little buggers, but they are not demons. While demons may be shrewd and wily, they are always willing to pay for a round of drinks before fleecing you for every cent you own. Keep them separate; comparing unicorns to demons is a grave insult, an irreparable one, I’m afraid.”
“Good to know,” Intern said, acting like he did not want to contemplate demons or unicorns. “I think Mawdlyn wanted to watch me lose my breakfast. She took a perverse pleasure in my near-skewering.”
“Only if it meant she could screw your brains out afterwards,” Jack said. “She hoped to excite you. Orc women are typically single track until they get their fill of cock. Once they’re satiated, they are these amazingly adept empathic creatures, like a social worker and an insurance executive all rolled up into one coherent package; sugar mommas who solve your problems. Mawdlyn had a recent trauma though, and she needs to heal before I let her near your gonads lest she inadvertently cause you damage. We human males are not as hardy as an Orc male. The females do enjoy the variety though.”
Intern looked like he wanted to cry.
“Go shower, Intern. Heaven forbids you show up for dinner with a whiff of unicorn on you.”
After shepherding the intern to the door, Jack snuck over to the group who were listening to the lecture by a visiting expert on the biodiversity of the Twilight Lands. The late afternoon sun warmed the area nicely while a slight breeze from the west kept the usual humidity at bay. The human woman was dressed as if she was on safari, complete with the wide brim hat hanging down her back. Estra, a mountain elf who had extended her rotation at the resort instead of returning to the Gen clan, sat on a stool next to the lecturer.
Estra looked bored, Jack decided, which was not good public relations. He shuffled to one side, catching the elf’s attention. He was going to signal her to smile, but her eyes opened wide, and a grin split her face. The human lecturer scanned the crowd to discover what made the elf perk up. When she alighted upon Jack, a momentary frown crossed her face. Jack did not know what the frown meant since he did not even know the human’s name. He dismissed her judgment as a non-concern.
She had touched a button though, one that had percolated through his midnight reflections more than once. The magic folk employees from the Twilight Lands were respectful and engaging. When he made a mistake, they corrected him and accepted his apology in stride. They invited him to share their beds and he never felt he was taking something from them they were not already offering. They shared their food, their company, their conversations, and their respect; he hoped he had reciprocated in kind. The human employees were another matter. To their perceptions, they were toiling in a combat zone where their lives were on the line every day. They believed that Jack owed them for what he put them through with each encounter and activity. The Twilight Lands were an alien place, and its denizens were alien as well.
Even Assyrtiko had his bouts of hesitancy. Granted, his wife had a final, full-blown breakdown over a minor gesture of concerned but misguided employees, but the response did not match the event. All in all, the general manager made a good show of speaking with any of the denizens, even with the shamans of the various tribes, but Jack noticed there was a slight remove. Was he the only one to feel at home in these lands?
As Jack finished his ruminations, he noticed the group was politely applauding as they rose from their chairs. A few of them came forward to share their thoughts or to ask questions of the expert. Estra took up a position next to the expert, ready to handle any requests the lecturer had. Although the literature claimed that mountain elves had “inscrutable faces,” Jack had no problem identifying when someone said something that Estra thought was stupid, ignorant, or as was usually the case, condescending. She was doing better at hiding it than previous weeks, but the conversation about cutting some slack for ignorant humans would have to be repeated.
As the last guest finished her question, Estra took the lecturer’s hand and pulled her over to Jack. The human woman had the face of all-knowing judgment on her face again. Jack kept his face neutral.
“Jack,” Estra said, “You must meet Katarina Nebo-something. She is one of your experts on us folk and she has many things to say.”
“Estra, your exuberance never ceases to delight,” Jack said to the elf before he turned to the woman entrapped in the elf’s two-handed grip. “Welcome to the Twilight Lands Resort and Spa, Katarina. I’m Jack, the assistant manager and magic folk wrangler for the facility. How are you enjoying your stay?”
“You have a lovely property,” Katarina said. “Did you say your portfolio is managing the native workers.”
“Oh, Kat, you humans twist words funny,” Estra said. “Jack is best human wrangler of the magic in the Twilight Lands. He is so much fun. Some of us cannot get enough of him, but he always makes time for us.”
Jack looked at the human woman coolly. “All of our employees and interns are paid at union scale, and all are subject to the same evaluations and opportunities for promotion. Estra is on an extra rotation from the Gen clan, who wish to have their most promising young adults work with humans before returning to take on their tribal duties. The tribe asks us to hold the slot, deciding who will work here. In return, they send their shaman to renew some of the protection spells that surround the property.”
“I’m going to be chief of the whole tribe one day,” Estra said, “and when I am you must call me by my full name, Estrogen. What a grand day that will be.”
“Yes, it will,” Jack said, trying to digest the new information. After all, he had been boffing the elf about once a week during her tenure. With his conversation with the centaur still on his mind, his hunches were exploding with ever widening implications.
“How long will you be staying with us, Katarina?” Jack asked.
“I will be here another six days, and you can call me, Kat,” she said, a bit mollified. “I hope to be able to visit some of the local tribes this week. Can you help arrange such visits?”
“Estra has more contact with the folk in the local vicinity than I do on a daily basis,” Jack said. “She sneaks out to buy twee-honey three or four times a week; she has such a sweet tooth.”
“Twee-honey, I’ve never heard of it,” Kat said. “What do you use to purchase it. Surely the local folk don’t accept human currencies.”
“Any of the metals like gold, rhodium, and iridium will do,” Estra said. “The locals have developed a taste for fennel and cardamom seed though. Sometimes, they request chilis; habanero is their preferred. When I get the chef to give up a few from his stash, the keepers bring out the best stuff. Of course, then I have to split the twee-honey with him, the greedy toad.”
“Fascinating,” Kat said before turning to Jack. “What is it a human magic wrangler does?”
Jack blushed furiously.
“Oh,” Kat said. “I do believe I’ve touched on something personal.”
Estra laughed. “Humans are so contradictory sometimes. Jack is easy-going and accepting of the magic when he knows no other humans are around. However, when any of us bring up the magic in public, like at the dinner table, he acts as if it is double top-secret information.”
“I am obligated to keep my private life private as I am an executive living on the resort campus,” Jack said. “The magic folk have a different culture and the Fae Compact of Work Rules is much, uh, more liberal than most humans expect. Even our general manager is forced to step back and rethink interactions every so often. Most humans, when coming from the human lands, are taken aback by what the magic folk consider appropriate behavior. Juggling between the two sets of expectations is almost unmanageable somedays.”
“So, you and Estra...” Kat said, waving her finger between the two of them.
“Jack is generous with his time,” Estra said, taking his hand. “The only one he has turned down is the Oza Orc clan, but they are some of the most powerful of the nearby folk. Their chiefs have five, six, even seven husbands to keep them in the magic.”
“This is so interesting, Jack,” Kat said. “You are presenting me with an area of research that has not been explored except in the most topical manner. Are the other humans on the campus ‘participating in the magic’ as you put it?”
“I cannot comment,” Jack said. “What the employees do when they are off the clock is their own business, as long as they adhere to the guidelines of the resort. What they do is none of my business.”
“Yes, how bureaucratically droll,” Kat said. “Would I be able to participate in the magic? With you, perhaps?”
“First of all, you’re a guest,” Jack said with a raised eyebrow. “Second, the honest answer is only the folk can assess whether you can participate in the magic or not. While you appear to have your mind in the gutter, allow me to correct the record. The folk speak plainly. They practice magic, creating and using it.”
Jack stared at his shoes for a moment. “Be forewarned, Kat. I lose most of my human employees because they cannot participate in the magic. The experience for them is distasteful and for some, even repellent. Should you proceed, which is a path I do not recommend for guests, I suggest you go forward as if you are playing with fire. Even for me who can participate, I still get burned and, well, it smarts like nothing in the human lands.”
“I will take your warning at face value, Jack; I’m not a flighty teenager. If I were to proceed, how would I begin?”
“Ask Estra, and she will guide you to those who can prepare the Divining Way. We will have a shaman on the premises again, probably the day after tomorrow, although I would strongly suggest you do not take that step. I do not know all the consequences and I am only a step or two ahead of you. Speaking as a human to a human, you would be far better served studying this land and its people at a step removed.”
“I’ll keep your warnings in mind,” Kat said. “Since we are being honest, this research possibility is far too important to walk away from and ignore. The need to publish or perish is still a consistent threat in academia.”
“Call for me specifically if you fall into a situation you did not anticipate,” Jack said, bowing slightly from the waist. “Estra, she is your responsibility. Understand?”
“Yes, boss,” she said with a cheeky grin. She grabbed her human by the arm again, nearly dragging her to the door for the women’s shower. Jack made a mental note to inform the general manager to review the lecturer’s contract for any obvious legal liabilities the resort could incur.
He barely managed to navigate his way into the main corridor, when he was accosted by Spin, whom he had rejected, and the entire grapevine already knew. He braced himself for the worst.
“Ja-ack,” she said, grabbing his arm with her tongue poking seductively between her lips. “I learned more about your magic cock today. Then,” she said breathlessly, “I learned about your magic tongue and fingers, and then I learned about this new magic rite called a message. Jack, you did not tell me the whole truth.”
“Massage, Spin,” Jack said. “You take a message, and you give a massage.”
“Magic give and take; you might be a shaman, Jack,” she sang.
“If you are finished flattering me, what do you want Spin?”
Her face fell. “My mother.”
Jack’s face fell to match hers. “Your mother, the Oza chieftain with five husbands who cannot keep up with her magic who is your mother?”
“Yes, she wants to talk to you,” Spin said. “She will be here in three days.”
“Oh shit.”
Chapter 6
Jack sat in his favorite chair, a Barcalounger with buttery brown leather and shiny brass tacks, a huge luxury for which he had paid the shipping. His grandfather had one, his father had one, and now Jack, a man who had been taught by two generations how to sit his butt in a comfortable chair and enjoy a good drink, had his own. With any plans cancelled for the evening, he indulged in his quiet vice of Canadian whiskey and Frank Sinatra. Assistant managers could not afford the good stuff and most of his contemporaries had no inkling of how to appreciate the fundamentals of voice and rhythm. Hell, his younger human staff thought rhythm was the bad jazz riffs in the porno vids.
Having liberated one of the retired crystal decanters and four matching glasses from the lounge, he appreciated having the time to twirl the glass in his hand, watching the light bend with different colors of the rainbow. The glass was solid and substantial, a reminder of what he sought. Besides, with no label to read, who knew the quality of the spirits in the decanter – same trick they used for vodka in the lounge.
Frank was reminiscing about New York when someone knocked at the door. Jack had half a mind to ignore the person, but he knew there would be even more consequences if he chose to ignore the request. He halved the volume and carefully laid his glass back on the tray. He did not bother with the eye spy.
“Danica?” Jack said, trying to downplay the incredulity.
“Can I come in, please?” She asked, as she ducked under his arm and stepped inside. “Oh, Good Lord,” she said with her fists on her hips as she zeroed in on his lounger.
Jack was staring at her butt, until he caught himself. “Welcome to my home, I guess. What brings you here, Danica?”
She stepped in a slow circle, taking in the entirety of the room, like she was memorizing the details. “This is what an unwholesome den of iniquity looks like, where all the folk wenches come to indulge in their darkest passions. How... less than dramatic this room is than my imagination.”
“The bedroom is through that door if you want to continue snooping,” Jack said. “I can assure you the presentation conforms with the standard furniture found in all the employee lodgings. No magic.”
“Jack, you have the New York Mets on your duvet cover,” Danica called out from the bedroom. “How old are you?”
“A man has got to have dreams, Danica, and someday, they will win the World Series. It will happen in my lifetime, even if it takes decades,” Jack said. “Please, join me in my common room where you can explain why you are here this evening.”
“I always thought you were a Batman pajamas guy although there was one point when I was worried you were into My Little Pony.” Danica walked out of the bedroom and went straight for the decanter. She poured herself a drink and took a sip. “This is not even house, Jack,” she said as she held up the tumbler.
“Even assistant managers cannot afford ‘the house’ in this resort, Danica. Unfortunately, the hobbits enjoy their tipple but resent paying for it. Because of our No Discrimination initiative, all of us are treated as suspect and another privilege, house beverages, is lost to the rest of the staff. Hence, the extra inventory counts we perform daily.”
“They don’t even hold their liquor well, and they get really grabby after a drink or two,” Danica said. “I don’t think it’s because they’re short; I think they’re small all over, if you know what I mean.”
“This is going to be a long conversation,” Jack said, rubbing his forehead. He scooped up his tumbler and refilled it before plopping down in his lounger. “Pull up a chair, Danica, and sit. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s obviously small penis syndrome,” Danica said, taking a swig and grimacing. “Where did you purchase this moose piss?”