An Orc on the Wild Side

by Tom Holt

  “Um?”

  “That’ll do. All right, since you insist, I’ll tell you. I’m not going to punish you because it’s not your fault. Don’t say um. Thank you.”

  “Not my—?”

  Mordak shook his head. “My fault,” he said. “In fact,” he went on, mumbling ever so slightly, “I probably owe you an apology.”

  “U—?”

  A look of almost infinite weariness crossed the Dark Face, enough to strike a tiny spark of sympathy in among all that terror, like one lonely away supporter in a sea of home team scarves. “I played a trick on you. It was necessary.” He grinned feebly. “My secretary was giving me a hard time. She had her flinty little heart set on murdering my she-goblin, and I didn’t want her to.”

  “But surely you’re the—”

  His eyes flashed, just a little, but enough to put the truth of what she’d just said beyond any possibility of doubt. “Which makes things tricky when it comes to personnel management. The Dark Lord does not reason with underlings. They do as they’re told, or they’re tomorrow’s blue plate special. But she’s a really, really good secretary and I don’t want to lose her. So,” he added sadly, “what do you do?”

  Maybe she’d suspected the truth all along, or maybe she intuitively knew it, just from their eye contact. “You give the order to a wraith,” she said, “because a wraith is the embodiment of the Dark Will. We do exactly what you really want us to.”

  He smiled at her. He had—well, no, he had a horrible smile, like feeding time at a tooth farm, but under all that grotesquerie there was unmistakable warmth. “Got it in one,” he said. “And it helps if there’s one wraith in particular who happens to be a bit different from the others. Difficult. Uppity. Inclined to think about things to an inappropriate extent.”

  She couldn’t help it; she smiled back. “Like someone else we could mention.”

  “Wash your mouth out with brimstone and treacle,” Mordak said solemnly. “Of course, I’m going to have to go back to Miss Needle-Lobes and tell her that, owing to gross incompetence on the part of a member of staff, the she-goblin’s hopped it and as a result her precious prophecy still hasn’t been derailed. She’ll immediately throw a hissy fit and demand that the guilty party be disciplined with the utmost severity.” He looked at her, and her heart froze. “Done that, I’ll tell her, all taken care of.”

  So, she thought, this is it, then. She realised that she didn’t mind. Whatever happened to her, she knew that she’d fulfilled her purpose, more so than any of her fellow wraiths, ever. She’d done what He wanted her to; something He hadn’t been able to do Himself. It doesn’t get any better than that, she thought.

  “Well now,” Mordak said gravely. “Tell me, have you enjoyed being a wraith? Say yes.”

  “No, actually, not all that much. I mean, it’s all right, I suppose, but—”

  “Say yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh dear,” Mordak said. “What a shame. That’s really most unfortunate, because to punish you for disobeying orders and letting the she-goblin go, I dismiss you from the Order of Wraiths. The spell is lifted, the enthrallment is broken. Be as you were before, a helpless snivelling mortal.” He snapped his fingers, then grinned. “There,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  She stared at him, then down at her bare toes, which were visible. Ditto hands, wrists, forearms. She gazed at the back of her hand, and barely recognised it.

  There was only one thing she could say. She said it. “Um.”

  “Right,” Mordak said briskly. “Now, can I have my ring back, please?”

  “What? Oh, right.” She remembered something. “It’s not actually a ring.”

  “Oh?”

  She shook her head. “I’m only a Grade Six.”

  “Fine. Let’s be having it, whatever it is.”

  Slowly she undid the catch and let the chain drop off her wrist into her hand. For as long as she could remember, it had weighed her arm down so that she could barely lift it; now it felt as light as a feather. She held it out and dropped it into his paw. He stared at it.

  “That’s it?” he said. “A charm bracelet?”

  She nodded. “That one’s a teddy bear and that’s a little Scottie dog and that’s supposed to be a butterfly but it got a bit squashed where I caught it in a door once.”

  “One little Scottie dog to bring them all and in the darkness bind them?”

  “Like I said,” she told him. “I’m only a Grade Six.”

  “You were only a Grade Six,” he said, remarkably gently. “Now, get lost. And, um, thanks.”

  It was as though a cloud had lifted. She beamed at him. “My pleasure,” she said. “And don’t worry about me. I’m going to be a model.”

  “A model what?”

  “A supermodel.”

  Mordak sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I give you the supermodel. Models are something to be overcome. Now bugger off before anyone sees you.”

  Ms. White’s grandmother had been one of those strong, pithy women whose sayings live on for a considerable time after they themselves have gone, like great works of art or radioactive waste. One of her favourites had been she’s prettier than she looks. Ms. White, sitting in front of her mirror, considered it for a moment, then turned it round. Not quite as pretty as she looks. She imagined Gran saying it, and what the expression on her face would’ve been. All too easy. Not nearly as pretty as she looks, she thought, and you can put that down to far too many late nights and rather too much boisterous living. Ah well. Through with all that now, thank goodness.

  Her phone tinkled and she dived for it like a seal. Notification from the Crédit Mayonnais, Geneva office; a sum of money had just been credited to her account, see attachment. She saw attachment. Were there really that many noughts in all the world? Apparently there were. Yippee.

  She looked round at the grey stone walls and bare flagstones of her chamber. She’d been in places like this a couple of times, in brief intervals between the making of one permitted phone call and the arrival of redemption, and had promised herself to avoid them in future, if possible. I do believe my work here is done, she told herself. I think I’ll go home now.

  She gave the mirror one more look. It wasn’t on the wall and the answer to the question no longer interested her, but she asked it anyway. Force of habit, really.

  And then the mirror was filled with the image of a single glowing red Eye, which gazed at her for a very long time, and when she tried to look away she couldn’t. And then the Eye spoke.

  “Angelina Jolie, since you ask,” it said. “If by fairest you mean prettiest. It can also mean most disposed to act in a just or equitable fashion, in which case I’d probably go for Michelle Obama or Pope Francis, but only because the choice is so terribly limited these days. Or did you mean the person with the yellowest hair?”

  Ms. White picked up the mirror and turned it round. No wires going into the back, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Who the hell are you?” she said.

  “Now let’s see,” said the mirror. “You’re familiar with the iPod, the iPhone and the iPad. Well, I’m the Eye mirror. I’m the very latest thing.”

  “Did you come in the last consignment?”

  “With all the other gadgets? No. I’m strictly home-grown. Nothing like me exists where you come from.” The Eye winked at her. “That curious knocking sound isn’t the plumbing. It’s opportunity.”

  Ms. White frowned. “You’re some sort of magic whatsit.”

  “I don’t have to be magical,” said the Eye. “From what I gather, I could operate in your environment, easy as pie. I can be Windows and Android compatible just by wanting to. Not here, of course. But if you take me with you when you go—”

  “Who said I’m going anywhere?”

  “Oh, come now. Lying to your mirror is a mug’s game. You’ve made a ridiculous amount of money, and now you’re off home to spend it, somewhere over the doughnut. Good idea. An even better idea
would be to take me with you, figure out how I work and set up a production line. I’d fly off the shelves so fast, the slipstream would cause climate change.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” she said, “for a mirror.”

  “I have built-in self-marketing protocols,” the Eye replied, “something that even Microsoft has never been able to get to work, but I can do it. I really am an entirely superior piece of hardware.”

  “Really,” said Ms. White. “What can you do?”

  “You name it,” said the Eye. “Everything your existing devices can do, and I can show you yourself in the best possible light. I can even reconfigure myself so that you can bear to look at me after you’ve done something awful. Now that’s got to be worth real money.”

  Ms. White thought for a moment. “How shall I put this?” she said. “You seem terribly keen to leave here and come back with me.”

  “I like to be in America, as the old song puts it. What’s wrong with that?”

  “All right,” said Ms. White. “If you’re really from round here, how come you know about Angelina Jolie?”

  “Ah.” The Eye sort of twinkled. “Strictly speaking, that’s not my opinion, that’s a Forbes Top Ten Most Beautiful list I saw somewhere. I had a brief insight into your world a short while ago, thanks to one of your wonderful gadgets. That’s when I knew it was the place for me. Go on, be a good sport and take me with you. I’ll make you ever such a lot of money.”

  “Don’t be too greedy,” Ms. White quoted. “I don’t know. There’s something about you I don’t like. In certain respects you remind me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.”

  “Ah. Well, I would do. I’m a mirror.”

  “I’ll have to think it over,” Ms. White said firmly, and before the mirror could argue she covered it with a shawl. She counted to ten. No voice. She pulled the shawl off and looked, and saw herself, her whole self and nothing but herself, including the slight bags under the eyes and the fledgling crow’s feet. Not the fairest of them all, not by a long chalk. “Oh, come on,” she said to it, “you can do better than that,” but nothing changed.

  Talking mirrors, she said to herself. Talking back to talking mirrors. I really do need to get out of here before I lose it completely.

  The cow bell hanging from the sack on a rope that served John the Lawyer as a door clanged once. He looked up and saw one of the most beautiful women he’d ever encountered.

  A bit of context. John had led a sheltered early life in a remote village, from which he’d run away very shortly after he’d learned to run. Thereafter, he’d lived among Elves. Out of the thirteen women he had met, however (not including his mother), she was definitely number four, and quite possibly number three. That made her pretty hot stuff.

  “Hello,” she said. “Remember me?”

  “No.”

  She scowled at him. “Is that right?”

  He blinked. “Sorry,” he said. “But I’m fairly sure I’ve never seen you before.”

  “You haven’t.”

  John’s mouth fell open. He was hopeless with names and not much better with faces, but he never forgot snarky syntax. “You’re her,” he said. “The wr—”

  “Not any more.” She beamed at him. “I quit.”

  “You quit.”

  “All right, I was fired. Sort of. Actually, it was all very friendly. King Mordak and I agreed on a parting of the ways. He’s such a nice person once you get to know him.”

  John’s brain was racing. “You want me to sue King Mordak for unfair dismissal.”

  “Don’t be silly. Anyhow, it wasn’t unfair dismissal, it was eminently reasonable dismissal with overtones of mutual respect and understanding.”

  “Ah. I don’t think you’d get much in the way of damages for that.”

  “I don’t want to hire you,” she said irritably. “I just saw your board up, with the atrocious spelling, and thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

  John stared. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re a—” He cut the G-word off just in time. “You’re very welcome,” he said. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  She pursed her lips. “Food and drink,” she said. “Gosh, I’d forgotten all about those. And all the other stuff, too.” He gave her a blank look. “Going to the lavatory,” she spelled out. “I’m hoping it’ll all come back to me, but it’s been ever so long.”

  “Wraiths don’t—?”

  “No. It’s going to be very strange for a bit,” she went on, as John glowed bright red, like a sunset. “Getting used to being human again, I mean. I don’t suppose there’s ever been an ex-wraith before. It’ll be quite a challenge.”

  John looked up. “I could sue Mordak for mental distress and trauma if you like.”

  “Watch my lips.” A superfluous order if ever there was one. “I don’t want you suing anybody for anything on my account. For one thing, I haven’t got any money to pay you.”

  “That’s all right, I’d do it for free.” It all came out in a rush, like a dozen puppies who’ve been shut up indoors all day. “I mean, on a sort of contingency, pro bono basis,” he backpedalled furiously, but she was grinning at him. That’s so sweet, she didn’t need to say. “But not if you don’t want to. I mean, I wasn’t touting for business or anything like that.”

  “I didn’t think you were. How is business, by the way?”

  “Booming.” John swallowed. “Absolutely booming.”

  She put her head on one side and peered at him. “You don’t sound all that happy about that. Which is very odd indeed, considering.”

  John hesitated. He’d never had anyone to confide in since he was very young, and even back then his only friend had been invisible to everybody else. No change there, then? He considered that and decided that things were looking up.

  “I’m not,” he said.

  “Mphm.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Won’t pay up?”

  “On the contrary.” He pointed to the corner of the shed, where three bulging sacks of gold filled a large manger. “That’s just on account, he said. Expense no object, he said.”

  She nodded. “No wonder you’re worried.”

  “It’s what he wants me to do,” John burst out, and even he was surprised at the level of panic in his voice. “He wants the Realms. Freehold. Vacant possession.”

  She looked at him oddly for about a count of ten. Then she said, “Is that right?”

  John sighed. “I’ve served notice to quit on Mordak,” he said, “and next I’ve got to do King Drain and the Elves.” He shook his head. “They’re not going to like it.”

  She sat down beside him. “There’s an old human expression,” she said. “Actually, there’s three. One’s about birds in hands, one says that possession is nine-tenths of the law, and the third is, you and whose army? He’s barking. Got to be.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself.”

  “And?”

  By way of reply, John pointed at the door. “John the liar,” he said. “Look, this is no harmless eccentric. You’ve only got to talk to him to know that. He’s scary.”

  From the fact that John had served a writ on the Dark Lord and tried to chat up a wraith, she’d already deduced that he didn’t scare easily. “I see.”

  “And he’s got lots and lots of money,” John went on. “I had an alchemist test those coins. Pure gold. Pure. A substance,” he added, “which is never found in nature, and which can only be created artificially by really advanced alchemy or, well, the other thing.” She looked blank; he lowered his voice and looked round. “You know,” he hissed. “The M word. I think he’s got to be some sort of dark wizard. Got to be.”

  She considered patting him on the back, but decided a frostbitten shoulder probably wouldn’t help. Then she remembered. Human again. For some reason, that made her feel absurdly cheerful. “Well, I can set your mind at rest there,” she said. “Unless he’s been hired in the last
hour, he’s not one of our lot, because I’d have heard about it if he was. Therefore he’s not a servant of the Dark Lord, therefore he’s not an officially authorised agent of Evil. So that’s all right.”

  “I know that,” John said. “Sorry, no offence,” he added, reassuringly quickly. “But he got me to serve a writ on Mordak, so obviously he’s not Evil.”

  “So, like I said—”

  “Doesn’t mean to say he isn’t very, very bad. In fact—” John lowered his voice until it was barely audible. “I think he’s worse.”

  “Worse than Evil.”

  “Worse than New Evil, anyhow.”

  That gave her pause for thought. New Evil had just conspired against and outwitted itself to save the life of a strategically valueless she-goblin, and had gone to great lengths to let the natural scapegoat off the hook. “Describe him,” she said briskly.

  “Difficult,” John admitted. “He’s all muffled up, so I couldn’t tell you what he looks like.”

  She frowned. “That doesn’t necessarily make him a bad person.”

  “No, no. Absolutely not. And he’s very polite and nice. Says thank you, and how well I’m doing. And incredibly generous.”

  “Which makes you like him, and disposes you to do what he asks you to.”

  “Yes.”

  She’d been living at just below the temperature of liquid helium for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be cold. But a genuine shiver ran down her spine, and she didn’t like it one bit. “An evil mastermind who understands man management,” she said. “That’s a dangerous precedent.”

  John wasn’t looking at her. She took that as a bad sign. “It’s the self-confidence that bothers me, as well,” he said. “He doesn’t seem bothered about the practicalities of, well, evicting people. And dwarves and goblins. Sort of gives the impression that that wouldn’t be a problem, so long as I get him the legal title. Makes me wonder whether he’s got more up his sleeve than just an arm.”

  She tried to sound dismissive. She made a bit of a hash of it. “Really? Such as what?”