Tiller grew cold. Suddenly that pleasant open face was staring at him, inspecting him. The beginnings of the relaxed feeling that had been growing in him were immediately shattered. The calculating eyes, set deep beneath Cronk’s brows, were watching him very, very carefully.

  Then, as quickly as it had come, the expression melted away. Cronk was smiling again, sipping his tea. “Apologies. Should have said alleged murder. My, but there can’t be a murder without a body and we’ve found no body. A body like ol’ Bonk has would be mighty hard to hide, wouldn’t you say.”

  Tiller nodded slowly, sipping his tea. “I can’t even imagine where one would start hiding something as big as that. I did hear he was missing though, you must be worried.”

  Cronk nodded slowly. “Can’t say that I’m not worried. He’s been missing a long time. But Bonk is Bonk too. Young fella’s wild as his dad used to be. His dad, my brother, got himself killed by the old dragon out towards the Xantion Realm. Treasure hunting or some madness. I took Bonk in, but he’s always been getting himself in trouble.”

  Tiller nodded slowly. Trouble was one word for running protection rackets. “So you think he might come back?”

  Cronk shrugged, his eyes tracking the fighter who had poured the tea. The younger ogre seemed bored by the conversation and was wandering back to the others gathered in the square. Tiller saw that they were gathered around Tonk. Tonk seemed to be talking quietly, but excitedly.

  When the younger ogre was out of sight, Cronk leaned closer. He spoke in a low whisper. “Listen boys. I don’t know what happened. And I don’t know for sure that you’ve got Bonk’s body buried in a mound on your farm. What I do know is that it doesn’t look too good. Your fighter friend is walking around with a berserker sigil that matches what Bonk has on his band. Last place Bonk was seen was heading your way.”

  Tiller was confused. The tone of the delivery spoke nothing of accusation, anger, or outrage. Cronk didn’t want the others to hear him and the tone was conspiratorial if nothing else.

  Cronk hissed, “I know, I know. If I think you might have killed Bonk, then why am I pouring you whiskey and tea and serving up steak? That’s what you’re asking yourself, isn’t it. Well, here’s the story. Plain and simple. I don’t like Bonk. Never have really. But I put everything I had into trying to raise him right. Poured my heart and soul into it, make no mistake about that. But it didn’t take. There was too much of his rotten old man in him. Now I loved my brother, I’d never say anything else, but he was a mean son of a bitch and he was always gonna end up the way he did. If it hadn’t been dragon’s claw it would have been a sword, or something else. Violence ends as violence does, and that’s the truth.”

  Cronk straightened, eying the younger ogre as he stomped over to check on them. Cronk spoke loudly, “We’re all good.”

  The younger ogre called back, “You sure?”

  Cronk yelled, “Right as rain.”

  The younger ogre seemed content with this and returned to join the others listening to an increasingly excitable Tonk.

  Cronk resumed his whisper. “You seem like good folk and I mean you no harm. Bonk is blood and if you’d gone out of your way to hurt him then we’d have problems. Then I surely would be sending the boys over to make meat out of you and burn your place to ash. But I can imagine how things went down. I know about Bonk’s racket. I should probably have done something about it, but for my shame, it didn’t seem worth the effort. There’s a lot of us here and some of the young ones are mighty infatuated with Bonk and all his bravado. Making trouble with him could have made trouble with a lot more. And he wasn’t doing so much harm. What’s a few coins a month to keep him from bothering you? It gave him something to do around here, kept him local so I could keep an eye on him. But he had a temper. Did he ever have a temper. No, I reckon if he did fall afoul of you, then you were defending yourselves. Sounds cold of me to say something like that about my own kin, but I know him. I know what he is or was like. If he doesn’t come around no more then it only makes my life easier and I don’t have any guilt about him. If I hadn’t tried so hard to raise him right I might feel bad. But I did everything I could for him. He wanted to be mean, he wanted to be tough, he didn’t want coin from me, he wanted to make it himself his own way.”

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  Tiller looked from Cronk to Pod and back again. What was he supposed to say? “Okay! You got us! Glad there’s no hard feelings!” He stayed quiet.

  Cronk went on. “You don’t need to tell me nothing. But I’ll give you a word of warning. Don’t get caught. If the story is true and you really have him buried out there then get rid of him quick as you can. If Tonk can prove, and I mean prove, that you murdered him then my hands are tied. It’ll give me no pleasure but I’ll have to send the boys round and that’ll be the end of ya. You don’t want that, and I don’t want that. I’m happy to leave sleeping dogs lie and, for now, most round here will listen to me. But Tonk’s on a campaign.”

  Tiller didn’t acknowledge the implication that he might indeed have been involved in Bonk’s murder. He said, “And… are things kind of political around here?”

  Cronk nodded slowly, “Wasn’t always like this. Most of my life it’s been my farm and all the lads respected me. But I’m getting on and I won’t be round forever. The lads can smell that too. I don’t think it doesn’t make ’em sad to think I’ll be gone, but the sad reality is that when you have a lot of wealth, and I’m not saying I have a lot of wealth, but I’ve done alright in my life, it would only be natural to start trying to figure out who’s gonna be in control of it next.”

  Tiller’s eyes darted around, “That sounds… that sounds like a lot of trouble. Could you not clear it up with a will or something?”

  “A will?” Cronk guffawed quietly. “What good’s a will? Inside the walls of Medley maybe, but there’s no laws out here. No jurisdiction. I’m in charge here because I’m respected, ’cause I’m the patriarch. I could name a successor and it wouldn’t be worth nothing, but in the end someone will just have to come out on top.”

  Tiller leaned close, hissing, “Tonk?”

  Cronk nodded slowly. “Could be.”

  “But he’s only clay-banded…”

  Cronk grinned, showing rows of well-aged but still very sharp teeth. “That he is. But I was that once too. And Tonk’s crafty. He’s my own flesh and blood and I’m proud of him, but I don’t trust him all the way either.”

  Tiller said, “So if someone had murdered Bonk and then Tonk got to the bottom of it, then that would improve his standing.”

  Cronk shook his head briskly, “More specific than that. Tonk’s decided you lot did it. He’s planted his flag there. I’ve said to leave you all alone if there’s no proof. He’s riled up some of the lads, and if he proves me wrong then it’ll hurt my standing and really boost his. That’s why I’m telling you, if you’ve got a body, get rid of it. I understand you had a little confrontation with Tonk and Donk.”

  Tiller said, “They were digging on my land.”

  Pod snapped, “My land.”

  Tiller ignored him, “They were digging without permission.”

  Cronk said, “But that goblin assassin of yours put the scare on ’em.”

  “Yes.”

  Cronk said, “They wouldn’t take him on. Nor that big hoo-man fighter you’ve got hanging around. But if he riles up enough of the lads they’d take ye on. I can only buy you so much time. Sooner or later he’ll get a proper posse together and then you’ll be in real trouble.”

  Tiller paused. “Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you? It sounds like you’re only making trouble for yourself.”

  Cronk smiled again, a bit thinly, even a little sadly. “It’s like I said, violence ends as violence does. I saw what happened to my brother. Look at the prosperity I enjoy. If Bonk is gone then I don’t feel bad about it and it’ll make for more peace round here. And you remind me of me, starting out with nothing, working the earth. It does my heart no good to see you come to harm. I’d like nothing better than to see you make your produce, me make my milk and meat, and see them both selling away down in the store.”

  Tiller thought on that a moment. Then he said, “But if you have to you’ll kill us.”

  Cronk pursed his lips, and looked truly apologetic. “That I’ll do, that I’ll do. If I have to.”