Free The Duty (Play to Live: Book # 3) by D. Rus Page B

silk scarf around my face: I now looked like some lame caricature of a freeman. Then I activated the Shadow of the Fallen One and broke the seal on the parchment. Off we go!
    Once in the city square, I immediately saw them. You'd be hard pressed not to notice Bomba's enormous bulk. She shifted her feet, her nervous fingers fumbling with a massive club of meteorite iron. As I headed for the girls, my uneasy mind registered lots of curious glances. Anonymity was indeed a mixed blessing.
    I approached the group and let go of the scarf's end, revealing my face. "Greetings, ladies!" I said with a wink and a toothy grin. "Any place for me here?"
    In contempt of all secrecy, Zena opened her eyes wide. "Here's our mysterious Laith coming! Oh, don't I just love enigmatic men!"
    I hissed at her, then turned to Bomba. "My warrior is out on a mission at the moment, but he'll be back in an hour. Then I'll introduce you, don't you worry."
    I shouldn't have said anything. Bomba's face darkened further, her fidgety hands leaving dents in the club. Women! I shrugged, then summoned Hummungus. "Saddle up! Off we go, ladies."
    Once we were stretched in a single file along a narrow city street, I nudged Teddy forward, catching up with Zena's fleabag. "Listen," I asked softly, leaning closer, "what's all this now? Why is she all shaky like a schoolgirl on a first date? Tell me: is Bomba underage?"
    She cringed briefly, then gave me a long studying look. "Quite the opposite. I think she's forgotten what it feels like. Last time she was on a date was in the days of the USSR. There used to be a country of that name once, if you remember."
    I froze open-mouthed. How old was she then? Eighty? Ninety? Did that mean that all the other Sullen squad members were just a bunch of geriatric belles? Could that be the reason behind their weird race choice? Considering they couldn't have been interested in male attention for the last thirty years at least.
    I looked at my amazon escort with different eyes, searching for some telltale signs betraying their real age. Zena caught my eye. She bit her lip and swung her green bangs, turning away.
    "Zena, don't! What difference does it make, really? We're all immortal here, aren't we? Another thousand years, and I'll catch up with you: what's my thousand thirty against your thousand eighty?"
    "Thousand ninety-six," she corrected me.
    I grunted, shaking my head in surprise. "Wow. And still it doesn't matter. Real life's got nothing to do with it! A handful of giggly goblin chicks and a shy troll lady—you're more alive than lots of people I know!"
    She looked up at me, hope in her moist glistening eyes. Reaching out her tiny goblin hand, she clutched at my arm and hurried on,
    "You need to understand. We were ancient all right, but we weren't demented! A creative career encourages longevity and clear thinking. Take Freckles—she was a university lecturer right until she went perma. Me, I had my paper on mathematics to complete so I spent every day up to my eyeballs in research. Our kids and grandkids, they took after us, too. They were all into science. So one day my boy brought me this magazine with one of the first articles on the recently declassified perma trip. Those were his words exactly, 'Mom, this is a chance for all of you!'
    "So we got our nonagenarian tea party together and there we made up our minds. The rest was paperwork. We couldn't have cared less about all those bodylicious Elfas. Practicality was our primary choice. A smaller surface area is harder to hit with a stabbing weapon! " she mimicked someone, apparently repeating one of their arguments. "Old fools! You should have seen us right after we went perma: a bunch of old goblin hags, hunched and shuffling their feet. But soon the virtual world gave us the works. We stood up straight, our minds rejuvenated, our bodies filling with hormones. We could have lived happily ever after, but now we're stuck inside these wretched clowns!" Zena thumped her