Lore of the Underlings: Episode 8 ~ The Trial Read Online Free PDF Page B

farmer.”
    “With two sons?”
    “Uh, yeah.”
    “Where’s the other one?”
    Engyn pointed an oily mitt at a boy on the
far side of the tent. The jittery kid was the spitting image of
Treygyn, but in miniature.
    “Trogyn. Please sir — he’s eleven.”
    “So?”
    “Tro is innocent! Leave him out of it!”
Brother Trey wailed. He looked up and upset. “Mini me’s just a
twerp, your worship.”
    Fyryx ripped the card to shreds.
    “Everything seems to be in order here mein
Herr…”
    Bits hit the floor.
    “But you’ve still got some ‘splainin’ to
do.”
    Engyn and Hoona knew what was coming.
    “How is it that you Yins were ever permitted
to parent? Or licensed to spawn?”
    Neither one dared to answer him.
    “It’s time we had a law, a test, to weed the
bad seed out. You mutants…
    “If I were master of this race…”
    Engyn mustered the guts to interrupt and
mount a brief defense. A little resistance. His finest minute.
    “Overlord, we’ve done our best with the
lads.”
    “W-we have.”
    “Not good enough by half.”
    “But… we taught a work ethic.”
    “S-s-sent Trey to school.”
    “And let him apprentice with the woodsmith,
at the expense of his oilweeding chores.”
    Fyryx shrugged his shoulders. “All that said
— what fool believes a leaver?
    “Or a leaver’s family.”
    Hoona fell to her knees. She pleaded.
    “He’s a g-good boy. It’s true, it’s true. You
must hear the rest of the story s-sire. Ask Miss Xoxo. Oh, she’ll
tell you…”
    Fyryx walked away unmoved. He went to the
center stand and stood.
    He stared at the two folk in the hood.
    “Yo, Xoxo! Show yourself. Decloak.”
    “No!” said her guardian. “I’ll do the
talking.”
    “Well then! Shields down, mother Yo.”
    The figure yielded and threw back her cowl.
The shadowy shroud flew from her shoulders, billowing ghost-like to
the floor.
    Everyone peered or pointed fingers.
    “Innkeeper’s wife looks good these days!”
    “Like a woman half her age.”
    “What’s her secret?”
    “It’s a trick!”
    This wasn’t Yeela Yo.
    “Who is it?”
    “I don’t like surprises,” hissed Fyryx.
“Explain yourself girl. What’s the meaning of this?”
    She hesitated for just an instant, adjusting
her eyes to the naked sun. They were pure, dark amber like
buckle-bee honey, more musky than sweet, less dawn than dusk. In
contrast her skin was salty caramel, hair spiced chocolate slicked
straight back. It fell in a vell-tail past the nape of her neck.
She smoothed it with her hand.
    Maid of a land made of sugar and sand. A tiny
thing just turned eighteen.
    She whispered something to the other then
spoke out loud for all to hear.
    “I am the elder sister sir, first-born
daughter of Yeela and Hoxso, here to stand for the family Yo and
stand up for our treasured Xoxo.”
    “And your name?” asked the clerk.
    “Qoqo Yo.”
    Fyryx seemed to know the clan.
    “You’re from the tavern. The one on the
green.”
    “Yes your honor, the old Keep Inn. Our folks
run it. We help out.”
    “And yet who’d expect that, given your
habits, you’d get thee to a brewery. Especially this one,” he
gestured at Xoxo, “still dressed up for monking business.”
    Worried her maiden hood left her exposed, she
tried to hide in the shadow of Qoqo. It didn’t work. He saw right
through her.
    “Yes I can see you’re a novice miss.”
    Sweet sixteen tasted sourness.
    “But enough of this nunsense! You’re here to
bare witness. It’s time to drop the sister act.”
    Young Yo, though, was taken aback and stuck
to her guns, her vow of silence.
    Judge Hurx would hear none of it.
    “Listen. We’re all done with choir practice.
Here comes your solo. Get ready to sing.”
    Xoxo stepped out but kept quiet, peeking,
ducking him, waxing mute. She poked Qoqo in the back.
    They had prepared for this. Qoqo spoke. “I
have taken my own vow sire — to be my homegirl’s guardian angel.
Role model, friend, her wings when she needs them,