Taggert Takes A Day Off

An overworked PI takes a day off in Milltown

I

am Tonnar Taggert, Private Investigator. I woke up tired this morning and since I have no pending cases, I am taking the day off. It’s a nice day, so far. I had a nice ripe, sweet Libicus fruit this morning and I am sitting with a cup of tea reading a book. I am trying to ignore the sounds coming up from the street below my 3^rd floor flat but I look up from my book at the sound of feet running back and forth under my window.

"Murder!! There’s been a murder!" a high-pitched voice wafts in through the open window.

I let a sigh out, place the book on the table next to my chair, then step over to the window and open it wider and lean out.

"It's a murder! - "

"It's my day off. Go bother someone else," I yell out into the street.

Given that I have a window onto Peal Street and am on the third floor, I should be able to see the sidewalk on said street, but the insane architect who built this place made part of this room jut out over the sidewalk below, so I can’t. So, I don’t know who is actually shouting below; probably some newsie.

"But murder?"

"Don’t care today. Try that guy on Macunado street or the other guy on Baker or those guys on 53^rd; just leave me be," I shout back and close the window.

I return to my book. It is a history of the founding of Milltown. Dry as dust, but there are some interesting bits of information popping up now and then. I take a break from it, just after the founding of Wizards Reach to go get lunch. My door opens on a landing that has two stairways on either side. One goes up nine steps to a flat wall. No door, no landing, no nothing, just a blank wall. The other goes down nine steps and ends at another door. I take the stairs leading down, open the door, and step onto the roof of the building. I pause and inhale the lovely fumes and odors of Milltown. When the coughing stops, I follow the boards laid out as a walkway on the roof. They lead to a wooden door without a knob. I push it in and descend the stairs on the other side. These stairs lead on to the street, not Peal Street where the shouting was coming from, but the cross street above it, Key Place.

I stand for a moment, catching a feel for the foot traffic on the street. It feels like there are a few more people about; I must not be the only one taking the day off. I turn right and stroll down to the corner, peaking in Frank's Dinner. No one inside, I pass on. The deal with Frank's is you don't want to be the first person in a lunch, or Chiza will talk your ear off. I am not in a listening mood today.

I cross Birch Place and continue on. I pass Hila's General Store and Laundry; no one inside but the clerks. Next is Bosha's Hardware, Armory, and Weaponeering, which is also empty. I pass a couple of empty store fronts and stop at Topa's House of Noodles.

I see inside there are a few people waiting patiently for their breakfast. I step into the coolish interior, and Juo waves me to a seat in the corner.

"Slow day," I say as Juo sidles up to my table. He is long, lean, and a mix between human, elf, and Troll.

"It’s that murder, Mr. Taggert. Everyone is over at the corner of Key Place and Rockslide Court."

"I am not going to fall for that. Today is my day off."

"You want the usual?"

"Yes, I do."

A flash of a smile and I am alone with my thoughts again. There is the watch and at least a half a dozen good PI's in Milltown and another dozen amateurs. I don't have to be involved in every weird thing going on.

The soup arrived with a small plate of sprouts and dark green leaves and a mug of beer. I smile at the diminutive Hobgoblin woman, who drops it off and say, “Thank you, Huan.”

She smiles back, gives me a swift curtsy, and disappears into the back of the restaurant. I dig in with gusto. I mix in a couple of spoonfuls of this thick, dark red sauce. I heard it comes from some place halfway around the world. It two spoon fulls make it about as spicy as I can stand it. Next I peal the green mint leaves off the stems, crush them, and mix them in. Then I squeeze a little lime in. I stir until the noodles separate, and I take a spoon full and sip it. It’s perfect. About fifteen minutes of solid effort and I about halfway through, I lean back, and sip my beer.

I purposely choose to sit so I can’t see out the window. This is my time to unwind. After four intense cases in a row, I am drained. They involved spooks, both real and from the prison/spy house, sorceresses, vampires, and an assortment of loons that escaped from Nowtanmander Hospital and Asylum. There was a good bit of coin from all that, but I after a while even the lure of coin couldn’t get me interested.

I finish my soup, and beer, then pay up, and step outside. Unfortunately, the air is no fresher than when I went in. I turn at a familiar sound and see a troop of Centaurs marching down the street. The first row is only three abreast, which is odd enough; then I see what they are guarding. Centered in the formation is a huge Unicorn. The thing had light fur-less, purple skin, dark red eyes, and three-inch upper fangs. The horn was ebony black with a slight spiral. I don’t know much about unicorns, but I do know two things: they are crazy dangerous, and as they get older, their horn loses that spiral groove. This is one old Unicorn. Centaurs are tough. The normal troop is sixteen. There are only ten of them surrounding the Unicorn. It cost them at least six members to capture that unicorn alive. Someone wants a live one really badly.

Each centaur held a fine silver chain tied to some part of the Unicorn. The one and only time before this that I’ve seen one was when I worked with the City’s Threat Eradication Corps. We came upon it while it was in the process of killing a group of Dwarves. Fortunately, when we showed up, we had a large enough force that the Unicorn decided to move on rather than continue to fight. That one was not as big or as old as this one. It’s a tribute to this troop's prowess that they captured it, but it’s also worrying that someone, undoubtedly, on the Wizard Hill needs a live unicorn.

I watch the Troop until they turn a corner.

“That’s something, isn’t it?” says a voice to my left. I turn, and see a fellow Dwarf in full regalia: Long red beard, and yellow blouse, dark green lederhosen, with knee socks and half boots. He is my height but carrying a bit more weight.

“It is. That is an old unicorn, too. It cost the troop six members, at least.”

"Ya … not that a few less Centaurs is a bad thing, but I’m not comfortable with having that monster anywhere near me.”

"I hear ya. Is it dress-up night?”

"Ha Ha, you are sooo damn funny,” he replies, rolling his eyes, then adds. “Some of us have to work for a living. You comin’ ta the meeting tomorrow night?”

"Usual place? Usual time?” I ask reflexively.

“Just like the last 15 years,” he answers.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He nods, then enters into the noodle shop I just left.

It’s been a while since I hung out with my fellow Dwarves. I left the last one early when they started in on the Gnomes and Elves. More that a few of my fellow Dwarves are racists at heart and are unwilling to change. I didn’t grow up in an all Dwarf community, so I don’t have a lot of their prejudices.
I meander down to the local park to get a little fresh air. An hour later, I am back in my room, the air in the park wasn’t any better than anywhere else in Milltown today. Plus, the gods damned geese were crapping everywhere. It was pretty disgusting today. I don’t know why the Ratmen don’t eat the geese. I am restless. Has it been so long since I took a day off that I don’t know what to do? I pace back and forth for a few minutes. I pause when I spy a book on my shelf titled ‘Ride the Wild Wind’ and a thought struck me that I should rent a horse and go out of the city for an afternoon ride. With that thought, I grab my cloak, broad-brimmed hat, staff, and head out again.

I head for the nearest stable. The fellow who owned the place was one of those humans from the far South. He was almost as big as a short Troll with skin as dark as midnight. In the light, he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “Hello, Tonnar. What brings you here today?” he asked. His voice triggered a memory. He was one of the guys we’d rescued from a Manticore just South of here. “Forgive me, I have forgotten your name. I am here to rent a horse for the afternoon.”

"Name’s not important. I have a very nice pony that should work well for you. Come this way.”

He led me to a stall, where he led out a pony. She was brown with a white circle between her brown eyes. She seems polite and reasonably docile. He said her name is ‘Darcy’. He saddled her up, and I got on. We take a few laps around the small yard. I stopped next to him. Even on the pony I only come to his shoulder. We agreed on a price, and I and Darcy take our leave

I immediately head down to the ferry landing, and lucked out as the Ferry has just arrived. I pay the fare, then Darcy and I get on for the short crossing.
Twenty minutes later, we were on the other side.

This side of the river is flat for about a half mile in all directions, and about a mile and a half beyond that, Eastwards, is the beginning of a forest. There is a road that follows the edge of the forest southwards. About fourteen miles south, it splits into a really bad road that heads due East into the forest and a decent road that continues South. North of here is open land. About two, maybe three miles northeast, some low hills start. There is a road that goes North from here, then splits into a Northwest and northeast road. Right at that split a new building going up.

It’s long with a wide staircase going up in front. There are a few people about, but they are busy. At the split, I opt to go northeast. Northwest leads to some old logging and mining towns, I’ve been there and a little beyond, and have no interest in going there again.

It’s a pleasant ride to the next split in the road. There is some kind of construction all along the road from that new building. Looks like nothing I’ve seen before. I’ll have to look it up when I get back. I reach the split and study the posted signs for a moment, but it doesn’t help.

The road that goes northeast goes to Muddle-on-Tyne. From what I’ve heard, it’s a boring little town of Gnomes and Dwarves. The other road goes almost due East. It cuts just above the forest. I think there is some open land out that way. I haven’t been that way in years.

“Well, Darcy, I have no idea which way to go. I just wanted to get out of the city for a bit of fresh air.”

Her ears twitch, and she turns her head to eye me. “I tell you what, Darcy, how about you choose the direction we go?”

She looked at each road and then starts walking down the East road. The road is hard-packed dirt and is wide enough for two carts to pass without much effort. There are small farms on either side that are separated by low stone walls. Some look like they are growing food crops, some look like pasture land with goats, sheep, or cows grazing. The homes vary from large houses with side barns to some that barely qualify as a shack. Here and there are people working in the fields. No one is near the road, so I am not disturbed by having to make conversation. The air is clean and sweet with the smell of growing things. I can hear small creatures rustling in the brush at the side of the road. The sun is warm but not hot. I start to feel relaxed.

The stress from the last few weeks leaves and I just … exist for a time.

“Darcy, this is really nice.”

About five miles later, I can see the forest closing in on the road from both sides farther ahead. The have farms run out, along with the fenced pastures. Now it is just open land dotted with small copse of trees.

If I recall correctly, there is a Gnome settlement around here somewhere. A mile later I see a well used trail leading off to the South. There are low hills here on that side of the road, and that trail winds down a gully between the hills. I slow Darcy up at the head of the trail.

“Well, Darcy, should we go visit the Gnomes?”

Darcy looks down the trail and snorts, then whinnies and shies away from the trail-head. I look down the trail again, and a Groll steps into view. It has a six-foot club in one hand and a bag in the other. The bag looks full. It’s a big bag. The Groll spies Darcy and me and gives out a loud grunt and speeds up. I snap the reins and give the pony a kick, saying, “To the woods, Darcy.”

To her credit, she took off at a good gallop heading down the road toward the woods. I heard a loud sound from the direction of the Groll, but didn’t look back. We reached the edge of the forest a few minutes later and kept going. We round a slight bend in the road, and find a few yards ahead two young Troll breeds standing in the road.

“Aim between them, girl, and just keep going.”

I lean down and hug the saddle as we get close, they were slow to get the idea that we weren’t stopping. So, by the time they adjusted their expectations, we were past them. I hazarded a look back and they had turned to watch us go and just coming around the bend was the Groll, sack, and club in hand. I looked forward again and saw, about fifty yards in front of us, an opening in the brush between the trees on the right. As we approached, I reined in Darcy and guided her into the trees on that trail.

Once in the woods, we followed the trail until it widened into a small clearing. I had her stop, dismounted, and wait silently. I do hear some faint noises coming from behind us but nothing closer.

I pulled off the water bag, poured some into my hat for her to drink from. I expect that is probably the only real exercise she’s had in a while. She is breathing heavy but that slows and after she laps up all the water I give her, she sets about nibbling the grass in the clearing. I take a pull from the water bag and put it back on the saddle. I remove my cloak and hat. It’s been a while since I’ve had to sneak through a forest, but I am pretty sure I can. I start back through the forest towards where the breeds were standing. As I get closer, I start hearing grunts, groans, and cursing. I reach a point where I can see the road.

The breeds and Groll are having at it fiercely. The breeds are dancing out of the Groll’s way, but it is relentless in pursuing them. Grolls are ridiculously hard to hurt. I am so glad it is not me who has to deal with it. A few feet away on the side of the road is the bag the Groll had been carrying. I study the bag it dropped and see something, or things move inside it. I ready my knife, and when the Groll is facing away from the bag, I run out and throw myself down behind it. Using my knife, I pick at the stitches along a seam. It feels like it is taking way too long, but I can’t go any faster since the seam is only about half a hand off the ground. Eventually, the opening gets big enough that a hand can fit through.

“I am going to pass a knife through; can any of you cut the seam from the inside?” I whisper.

“Aye, I can.”

I pull a small knife from my belt, and pass it into a small hand that appears out of the opening. I pull my hat off and peer over the bag. The fight is still going on. The Trolls are having a hard time avoiding the Groll blows and their strikes are not doing much but keeping it’s attention. Their best bet would have been to cut and run.

Luck is in my favor, the fight is moving farther away from the bag. I return to working the seam from my side. Several intense minutes later, the opening is big enough for the Gnomes to start squeezing out. As they do, I wave them to the forest. The first few are children, then three women, and, finally, two men. I start shoving pinecones, sticks, leaves, whatever is close back into the bag, trying to make it look full again. It is a wasted effort as one of the children falls and lets out a cry while making their way into the forest. The Groll turns at the cry, bleats something, and leaves off beating the breeds to run back at me.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I charged at the Groll, yelling. I didn’t even have my staff. Just as I got to within about four yards of it, I veer off to the other side of the road and throw myself into the brush between the trees. From the sounds of it, the Groll couldn’t turn quite that fast and took a tumble. I leap up, push into the brush, and manage to break into a small clearing. There is a game trail paralleling the road, and I turn onto it and move as fast as I can. I hear the Groll crashing through the brush behind me. The trail veers close to the road and ahead of me, on the road, I see the two Troll breeds heading in the same direction.

One looks back, sees me then must have heard the Groll because they speed up. Unfortunately for them, they’d both taken some damage in their short fight, so they were only slightly faster that me. I jump out onto the road, cross it behind them, and into the woods on the other side. I am managing to stretch the distance between the Groll and me when my foot catches a root, and I go down hard. I lay there only for a moment as I could hear the Groll yelling but not crashing through the woods. I get up and find another low game trail heading back to where I’d left the pony.

I take it, it is too low for me to run upright, so I drop to all fours and scurry as fast as I can under the brush. Its only a little later that I come across the Gnomes in a small clearing.

“You guys all hear?” I ask.

“Aye, I wanna -” the older one starts to say but I cut him off.

“Later. Keep quiet. I will be back with a pony then we can figure out what to do to get you home.”

He nods and I keep going. The trail I am on comes out at the edge of the road, and I squeeze out onto the road and look. The Trolls are high-tailing it, and the Groll is dithering around sniffing the air at the edge of the forest. It slams its club in the hard-packed dirt road, making a sizable dent, then stomps in a circle, yelling. I keep to the edge of the road and find the trail that leads to Darcy. I find her calmly munching on the grass when I get there. I get my hat, cloak, staff, and grab her reins. There is another game trail that parallels the road that, I hope, leads to the Gnomes. I lead her down that trail.

Every now and then I can hear the Groll out on the road. He sounds really frustrated. Lots of pound and yelling going on. We keep on the trail even as it veers mildly away from the road. Fortunately it does lead close to the clearing where the Gnomes are. I quietly push through the brush to them.

They are sitting in a clearing trying to mend themselves. The children seem to be fine. Gnome children, like most, seem to be made of rubber. Two of the adults are pretty banged up and would find the hike back to the village difficult.

“How can I help?” I offer when I reach them.

“Ah, you’ve done a lot already,” the older Gnome says, then adds. “We shouldn’t be asking any more from you. You put yourself in jeopardy for strangers.”

"How long before dark?” I ask, ignoring his reply.

“Oh, we’ve got quite enough time to get back to our village, what’s left of it. I can send Tarltan here to get help.”

“That’s a long delay and runs the risk of that Groll finding you again. How about we put the adults in the most serious condition on Darcy and the smallest children?”

He looks at me for a moment, then says, “That’d work.”

We get them loaded up and start down the trail. The game trail we are on wanders a bit, but never gets too far from the road. Eventually, we run out of forest, and we're going to have to risk going out into the open. I step out into the open first and walk back to the road. There is no one in sight. I don’t know what happened to the breeds, but they were not around here. I wave the group over to me. We reorganize ourselves and start up the road back to the cut-off to the Gnome village. We turned onto the trail to the village and found the Troll half-breeds. They were lying just off the trail.

“You guys are alive?” I ask.

After a little groaning, one says, “Barely. What was that thing?”

“That was a Groll. As you now know, if you see one just run. They are impossible to hurt without serious weapons.”

“Just our luck.”

After a brief conference with the Gnome leader, we sent the rest on to the village while we stayed to talk to the breeds.

"What were you doing on the road?” I ask.

They were silent for a while, then the one said, “To tell the truth, we are starving. We were going to try to rob you of any food you have.”

"Starving? Hmm. You must not be hunters,” my Gnome partner says.

“No. This is the first time we’ve even been in the woods.”

They sit up, and I can see they are twins or very closely related cousins.

“I’d ask you how you got here, but let's save that. How about I make you a deal? You come to the village, we’ll feed you, heal you up, give you a place to rest, if you help us rebuild?” the Gnome asked.

"YES!” they said in unison.

I help them to stand. I notice they are very young; maybe sixteen. What are these guys doing out here by themselves? We continue to the Gnome village or to what is left of it. That Groll did a lot of damage. The trail continued on around a bend and into the forest beyond. On the right side were the tatters of a short palisade and a few above-ground buildings. The land rose into a hill on that side, and the Gnomes had their burrows in that hill. There was some damage to a few of the entrances, but not all. We guided the Trolls to an area where they could sit and not be in the way. I found my pony, pulled my lunch off, and took it to them.

“Here, you guys eat this. It’s not much for two teenagers, but it’s what I have right now.”

"Oh, thank you.” They split the food and shared the bota of diluted wine while I went to see what I could do to help.

The remains of the buildings and palisade lay all around the front of the burrows. To the Gnomes, their palisade must have seemed quite adequate. After all, if the tallest of them is a little over two feet, a six-foot palisade must have seemed quite decent, but to pretty much everything else, they were a joke. I find an elder Gnome and ask, “How can I help?”

She looks me up and down, then says, “You’re the Dwarf that saved my grandkids, ain’t you?”

"I suppose so.”

"I reckon you’ve done more than enough. We can take care o’this mess and those Troll breeds, too. I hear they aren’t bad sorts. What is your name?”

“Tonnar Taggert.”

“Well, Mr. Taggert, I don’t know that we can ever repay you for what you have done. That was my son and grandchildren you rescued. He told me that you could have just run, but you didn’t. You’re a brave man. All I can offer is that if you ever need anything we can give, it is yours.”

“That is unnecessary, but I thank you. If you or your family are ever in Milltown, look me up and tell me how it went with the Troll breeds. I am a private detective. I’ve worked with the local Gnomes; they will know where to find me.”

“We will do that. Safe travels, Mr. Taggert.”

“Darcy and I here, will to our best.”

I find Darcy, mount up, and head out of the Gnome village. I passed a few Gnomes gathered around the Troll breeds. I didn’t disturb them. That was an adventure, and now I am hungry, but I’ve given away all my food.

“Darcy, it’s time to head back. That’s enough excitement for one day, I think.”