Instructions

Most of the gorgons sat back down in the dust from wherever they were standing.

“What now?” Runt thought nervously. His decision to investigate the quarry seemed to be going from bad to worse.

Runt recognised one of the riders from Gunther’s gang as they dismounted nearby. Through a gap in the cloth, he made out Darren’s face.

“Well, you’re a sorry looking bunch if I ever saw one.” Darren laughed, adjusting his felt hat to sit more firmly on his head. “On your feet, you lot. There’s work to do.”

The nearest gorgon heaved itself off the ground. Darren, not a tall man, still stood head and shoulders above the hairy beasts. When the gorgons spoke, they didn’t look at the men directly in the eyes. Instead, they flicked their eyes up and down. A little peek, then away. It reminded Runt of himself and how he talked to Tyron.

“Who that one?” the gorgon grunted, pointing at the man to Darren’s left.

“This? This is Graham. But you lot don’t need to worry about that. C’mon, I said on your feet!”

As he spoke, he pulled a long whip off the side of his saddle and gave it a crack above the gorgons’ heads. They all groaned and then, as a group, begrudgingly stood up.

“That’s better,” Darren hissed through gritted teeth, “now, where’s the rest of you? There’s normally more.”

“Dunno. Missing.” The first gorgon replied. It was clearly the spokesperson for the group.

Darren laughed a joyless laugh.

“Missing, hey? More like they’re sleeping off a big hangover. I can see the empties in the back of that cart. Just remember, there’ll be no more booze till next Friday. So when it’s gone, it’s gone!”

The gorgon just shrugged, and waited.

The other man, Graham, fished around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He muttered something to Darren quietly.

“Righto you lot. The boss says we need a hundred bricks today. A team will come past later to pick it up. And if you’re not done by the time they get back, they’ll be using whips and dogs on you.”

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This news was met with a chorus of grumbling and muttered swear words.

“Boss? How much a hunnerd?”

Darren rolled his eyes, looked over to Graham, and sighed.

“I said a hundred. One. Hundred. One. Hun. Dred. Don’t you know what that is?”

The gorgon simply shrugged and stared at the dusty ground between it and Darren.

Graham stifled a mocking laugh. Meanwhile, Darren threw his hands up and cursed.

“Follow me.” He said and beckoned with his finger. The guard and the gorgon walked to the cart. Runt’s heart began pounding furiously and he held his breath.

Darren bent over and collected some rocks. He placed ten of the rocks along the side of the cart. Then he turned and looked down at the gorgon.

“See these fingers. Hold your hands up. Like me.” He said, and held up both hands, palm out.

“Look up at me, when I’m talking to you, dolt!” The gorgon strained it’s thick neck to stare up at the man. “Right. These are ten fingers, yes? Every time you can count ten bricks finished, you take off one of these rocks, see?” He then flicked one rock off the side of the cart.

“You count ten bricks, then flick off one rock. Then ten more,” flick, “then ten more,” flick, “and once you take all the rocks down, you have one hundred bricks. Understand?” He began putting the rocks back on the side of the cart.

“Ten finger. Ten rock. Hunnerd brick.” The gorgon mimicked, frowning. “Boss? Is hunnerd many brick?”

“It’s the same amount we ask you for every day, you twit!” Darren yelled, throwing his hands up again. “And we have this same blasted conversation every day. And you get it wrong just about every day. So just get out there and chew some bloody rocks and be quick about it. Oh, right,” he said, turning to Graham, before turning back. “The boss said we need pink granite today. So you need to head down the dragon’s neck a-ways,” and he pointed down along the mountain side, back toward the scrub, “because that’s where the best pink rock is. Got it? Now, get moving!”

With that, he cracked the whip again, and the gorgons slowly and reluctantly began stomping off in the direction Darren had pointed. The two men watched them move off.

“I swear those stumpy legged buggers are getting more and more defiant.” Darren said, muttering to Graham.

“I dunno,” Graham replied, “I heard Gunther tell about the old days. We was forced to keep men out here non-stop to watch them. And had to use whips all the time. And dogs. Otherwise, the brutes would just wander off into the scrub. At least they come back on their own, now. The booze supply keeps them in line for the most part, they says.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t trust ‘em.” Darren said and spat in the dust. “They never look you in the eye when they’re talking and, if they do, they look shifty, like they’re plotting some kind of mischief.”

“But I heard they can turn a man to stone if you look in their eyes?”

“Haha, nah. That’s the sort of bollocks we say to keep regular folk away, see? Don’t need the commoners up here nosing about, do we? But they’re up to something. Mark my words. They can’t be trusted. Good workers, though. And cheap.”

The two men mounted their horses again and turned to depart, leaving Runt with more questions than answers.