Page 39 of Shelf-Made Man
For his part, Alfie still hadn’t moved, which was worrying but also probably a good thing. This way the trolls kept their focus on Tobias.
He watched as they exchanged glances. It occurred to him that they might not be used to having anyone oppose them. They seemed uncertain how to react, and he decided to use this to his advantage. “Take me to your leader!” he roared with a crazed grin. He’d always wanted to say that.
After a moment, the head troll mumbled something that sounded like agreement. Tobias bent and hauled Alfie to his feet, trying to appear rough but actually be gentle about it. He wished he could comfort Alfie, who stood with head bowed and shoulders tense, shaking slightly. Being inside these walls again must be terrifying.
The trolls surrounded Tobias and Alfie, two in front and two behind, but whenever one of them got too close, Tobias growled and they moved away. It was a long hallway with ceilings barely high enough for trolls. Everything was made of heavy stone blocks except for the raw timbers that provided some support overhead and the wooden doors that appeared at random intervals. There were no windows or discernible sources of light, yet everything sort of glowed.
After a few twists and turns, the parties clomped up a long flight of uneven stairs, through a set of huge double doors, and into a much nicer area. Here the floors had carpet runners, and the walls were plastered and hung with framed paintings—landscapes mostly, but also portraits of elves who, despite their Christmassy-looking clothing, seemed more grouchy than festive. All of them, essentially, grinches.
They hadn’t passed anyone on the lower level, but on this floor elves scurried around, avoiding eye contact with the trolls. None of them made any effort to help Alfie, who was flagging: stumbling over the carpets and breathing heavily. Tobias had to grasp his arm and drag him along. He hoped that he wasn’t causing additional pain.
At long last they went up another flight of stairs and down another broad corridor, stopping at a single ornately carved door guarded by an officious-looking sentry troll. “His Highness is busy,” she said. She slightly reminded Tobias of one of the concierges at Aunt Virginia’s building.
The biggest troll huffed at her. “He’ll want to know this. Tell him that the prisoner has been returned.”
Her eyes widened, and for the first time she noticed Alfie, hidden behind bigger bodies. Then her face took on a calculating expression. “I’ll take the prisoner to him.” She reached out a hand.
Tobias twisted so that he blocked her access to Alfie. “No. He’s mine.”
She glanced at the quartet of goons as if expecting help, but in Tobias’s estimation, they looked a little smug, as if pleased that someone else was having to deal with the rude newcomer. So she shrugged and stepped back. “His Highness is still awfully angry thatsomebodylet the prisoner escape.”
“Nobodylethim escape,” said the big guy. “It was that wizard’s fault. And you know what happened tohim.” All of the trolls laughed nastily, as Alfie stiffened and Tobias’s stomach clenched. What had Snjokarl done to Olve?
Before Tobias could think of a way to ask, Alfie spoke up. “Listen to you. Have you no pride or dignity? You follow Snjokarl blindly. You choose to be nothing more than vile murderers when you could be so much better.”
“We haven’t murdered anyone,” protested a troll with poorly braided red hair.
“And what do you suppose your master will do to me?”
The redhead shrugged. “More torture, I guess. Likewith the wizard. Although honestly, I think death is better.”
Did that mean Olve was still alive? If so, how long had he been suffering in Snjokarl’s clutches? Tobias was shaky on the relationship between timelines in the two worlds.
It appeared that these trolls were prepared to argue with Alfie all day. Maybe they were procrastinating on presenting him to Snjokarl. Tobias took a few deep breaths, channeled all the fierceness he’d kept locked down for his entire life, and roared. “Take me to your goddamn leader!”
To his immense gratification, all five trolls fell back a step or two. The biggest one looked at the sentry and huffed, “They’re all yours,” then turned on his heel and marched off, followed by his buddies.
The sentry was not happy. “Follow me,” she muttered. “And make sure that prisoner behaves himself.”
“He’s an elf, not a trained dog.”
“He’s a traitor and can’t be trusted.”
Defending Alfie wasn’t wise right now, so Tobias kept his mouth shut. But if he managed to survive his meeting with Snjokarl, he’d make sure to set the record straight for this troll and everyone else.
She knocked on the door so hard that it rattled in the frame, then took a deep breath and swung it open.
“What?” came a peeved-sounding voice from inside.
“There’s a troll here, Your Highness, and?—”
“There are alotof trolls here. The palace is infested with them.”
“This one has brought you Prince Alfred.”
“Bring him here!”
Alfie was shaking again, and Tobias had to drag him into the room. He felt rotten about it, which didn’t improve his mood any. To the extent he’d considered it at all, he’d expected an evil lair filled with skulls and ropes and torture devices. Or maybe, since this guy was a prince, a room dripping with jewels and silks and golden everything. What he got was… an office. A large but not especially fancy one, with several bookshelves and cabinets and an immense wooden desk piled with papers and scrolls. The furniture looked old and well-used, the woven rugs were threadbare, and nothing hung on the walls. The two windows, unadorned by curtains, were streaked with dirt. Dust bunnies lurked in corners and cobwebs clung to the ceiling.
