An Orc on the Wild Side

by Tom Holt

  “Yes, please.”

  “Fine,” Tinituviel snapped. “In which case, on your feet, we’ve got work to do. Oh, and by the way. If you’re going to be my friend, you can’t be friends with anyone else, and especially the voice-in-the-mirror person, got that? You’re not his friend any more. In fact, you hate him to bits.”

  “Oh.” The she-goblin looked sad for a moment. “Oh, all right, if you say so.” She thought for a moment. “Is that how it works, then? You can only have one friend at a time, and you’ve got to hate everybody else?”

  Tinituviel smiled. All Elves are wise, and so she knew precisely how to explain to a member of an inferior species the intricacies of any question, problem or issue, no matter how complex or confusing it might be. “Shut up,” she said.

  “All right,” said the she-goblin. “I won’t say another—”

  She stopped dead, dropped to her knees and rolled over onto her face.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” Tinituviel wailed, “now what?”

  She knelt down beside the motionless goblin, who didn’t seem to be breathing. “Will you please make your mind up, once and for all? Are you dead or aren’t you?”

  Nothing. Then the she-goblin shuddered, kicked out uncontrollably, rolled over and over several times and sat up with a jerk. Her eyes were tight shut and she appeared to be breathing through her ears.

  “I’ll take that as a no, then,” Tinituviel said. “Hello? Anybody home?”

  The she-goblin twisted her neck round—much too far, to begin with, and there was a horrible grating of neck bones and gristle before she seemed to realise her mistake and turned it back the other way. She looked straight at Tinituviel and smiled. “Sorry,” she said. “I tripped on a tree root.”

  The she-goblin’s left eye was gleaming. “Are you all right?” Tinituviel asked.

  “Me? Fine. Never better.” She leapt up, landing on the balls of her feet, in a slight forward crouch. “Well, let’s get going. I mean, I don’t want to hold you up.”

  A few fine hairs stood up on the back of Tinituviel’s neck. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?”

  “Only—”

  “Are we going or aren’t we?”

  Tinituviel looked at her, carefully this time. “You seem awfully keen.”

  “Well, there’ll be lots of people there, and maybe some of them will want to be friends with me.”

  “Why would there be people there?”

  “Because I saw—” The goblin stopped dead. “I sort of think there might. And you’re going there, and you wouldn’t if it was just an empty old tower, not a clever Elf like you. I expect you want to do a few in-depth interviews, that kind of thing.”

  She’s reading my mind. No, impossible. Even Elves couldn’t do that, though it didn’t stop them pretending they could to anyone gullible enough to believe them. And she did seem quite convinced that there’d be a crowd at the old tower, almost as though she’d been there not so long ago and had seen them for herself. Get a grip, Tinituviel urged herself, it’s a goblin, it can barely put one foot in front of the other without falling flat on its snout. Also, being a goblin, it talks drivel. That’s what they do. “It’s none of your business what I’m going to do when I get there,” she said. “I just want you along for the pleasure of your company. Now stop dawdling and move.”

  Actually, the goblin moved rather fast, to the extent that Tinituviel was unaccountably short of breath by the time they reached the tower. And, just as the goblin had predicted, there were a lot of people there—Elves and goblins and dwarves; and though they were standing tightly packed together in heavily armed groups, nobody was fighting with anybody else. She stopped and took a good look, partly formed headlines racing through her mind. What was all this, anyhow? A stand-off? Peace talks? A guess-the-weight-of-the-fat-human-with-the-axe competition? She caught sight of King Mordak, sitting under a tree with a weird looking human and apparently not eating him. She was torn. There was Mordak talking seriously to someone, in which case it could well be something important, in which case she really ought to go over and join him before he made a complete and utter mess of things, whatever they were. On the other hand, she had sort of skipped out and run away when arguably he needed her most, and although of course she wasn’t ashamed or anything, oh dear no, nevertheless it might be a tad awkward.

  Mordak waved. There are waves and waves. This one was a get-over-here-now wave, sort of glad-to-see-you-where-the-hell-have-you-been? She was genuinely surprised by how relieved she felt.

  “Where the hell did you get to?”

  She gave him a scowl. “Me? Where did you get to? I’ve been looking all over the place.”

  A faint gleam in Mordak’s small, round red eyes told her that he wasn’t buying that for a second but he respected her for trying. “All right, here’s what’s happening. The weird humans come from another Realm—”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Mordak blinked. “Fine,” he said. “But they won’t be coming or going any more, because this joker here—” he indicated Theo with a vague flick of a claw “—says that the gate is now shut and won’t be opening ever again. So that’s all right.”

  “Quite. A lot of fuss about nothing, really.”

  “Which probably means,” Mordak persevered, “that we probably won’t have to clear out after all, since the only reason the bad guy wanted us out was so he could build houses to sell to Somewhere-Elsers, and that won’t be happening.”

  “Well, there you are, then. You do get yourself worked up about things, and they always turn out fine in the end. I wasn’t worried.”

  “But,” Mordak said. Pause, for effect. “We may have a bigger problem. From what this human here’s been telling me—”

  “The One We Don’t Talk About may be back and he’s going around taking over people’s minds. Yes, I know. And I’m a teeny bit concerned about that one myself.”

  The irregularly shaped scaly wattles that served Mordak for eyebrows shot up. “You know?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you to mention—?”

  “All right, I only just found out,” she conceded. “That’s where I’ve been,” she added, “finding things out. Doing something useful,” she couldn’t resist adding, “while you’ve been—well, anyway.”

  “Fine.” A slight edge in Mordak’s voice suggested to her that that was probably enough point-scoring for the time being. “Question is, if the old bastard is back, what are we going to do about it?”

  Tinituviel shrugged. “You’re the Dark Lord,” she said. “That’s policy. I don’t do policy, just admin.”

  “Excuse me.”

  The funny looking human was talking to them. They looked at him.

  “It’s none of my business,” the human said, “but I couldn’t help overhearing. And I don’t know if it’s important, but the lady goblin I thought I’d killed—well, the thing inside my head made me do it.”

  Mordak waved all that aside. “What about her?”

  “She’s standing over there.”

  Tinituviel had forgotten all about her. Which, when she thought about it, was a bit of an oversight. “So she is,” Mordak said. “Glad to see she made it after all.”

  “Only,” Theo went on, “she was pretty definitely dead when I saw her last, and now there she is, walking about and everything, and I don’t know how you do things round here, being from out of town, so to speak, but it did occur to me—”

  “She was brought back to life by the Nameless One,” Tinituviel cut in, as the penny dropped like a falling meteorite. “Yes, well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? That’s why I brought her here.”

  “Here?” Mordak was glaring at her as though she was a candle in an oil store. “Are you out of your tiny mind?”

  She hadn’t been expecting that. “What—?”

  “You brought Him? To the old wizard’s tower?”

  “Um.”<
br />
  “His ancient stronghold.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Where there just happens to be a portal between here and Somewhere Else?”

  “Yes, but it’s blocked.”

  “Yes, and you didn’t know that.”

  History tourism is one of the things YouSpace is best at, and, ever since he’d got it working, Theo had been to loads of crucial cusps and turning points in the causality flow, just out of curiosity, to see what they looked like. Some of them were well signposted, with interesting and informative wall displays, interactive audiovisual guides, gift shops and stalls selling fizzy drinks. Others were just moments like any other, unless you knew precisely what you were looking at. Visit enough of them and you get a feel for the sudden lurch and twist that betrays the presence of something exceptionally significant, something with consequences. But the rule is, as a visitor you don’t interfere, no matter what. So, although he had an idea that he’d just witnessed an epoch-making moment in the balance of perceived superiority between goblin and Elf, he just cleared his throat gently and said, “She’s coming this way.”

  Mordak scrambled to his feet. “If she’s got Him inside her—”

  “Actually,” Theo said, “I think it’s me she’s after. I killed her, remember. This may be a bit awkward.”

  Mordak shook his head reassuringly. “Among goblins, it’s just a way of showing affection,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Even so—”

  The she-goblin was looming over them, and for the first time Mordak realised just how very big and strong his creation, his good-idea-at-the-time, had grown to be. The she-goblin glared at him, then turned to the human. “You’re Theo Bernstein.”

  “Yes. Look, about what happened back there—”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” the she-goblin said, just a trifle wearily. “It wasn’t you, it was him. My so-called friend. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, in case you were worried. It’s all right.”

  “What’s all right?” Mordak snapped. She ignored him.

  “What’s all right?” Theo said.

  “The nasty Eye person,” the she-goblin said. “He won’t be bothering you any more, any of you.”

  They all stared at her. Theo said, “Excuse me?”

  That made the she-goblin grin. “That’ll teach him to say he’s my friend and then be nasty to me.”

  Mordak opened his mouth to shout, but Tinituviel elbowed him in the ribs. “Hello again,” she said. “Where have you been? You wandered off.”

  The she-goblin gave her a sour look. “You didn’t really want to be my friend,” she said. “You just guessed I had the horrid Eye inside me. Well, you don’t have to worry about him any more. I’ve dealt with him.”

  The way she said it—Mordak knew that there are some things in the Realms that are, quite simply, impossible; turning back the Sun and Moon on their preordained cycle, getting a straight answer out of an Elven chartered surveyor, feeling sorry for the One We Don’t Talk About. Even so. The tiniest little smear of sympathy, as short-lived and unstable as antimatter—

  “Gosh,” Theo said. “How? I bashed my head on a wall, but that only shut him up for a little bit.”

  A slow, horrible smile passed over the she-goblin’s face. “I put him in his place,” she said.

  “Really?”

  Nod. “At the back of my mind. That’ll learn him.”

  “Just a minute,” Mordak said, but Tinituviel stopped him. “At the back of your mind?”

  “It’s a very strong mind,” the she-goblin said (and Mordak thought, yes, it is, isn’t it?). “And he was mean to me and he told me lies, and I’m never going to trust him ever again. So when he came back saying it was all a misunderstanding and the silly human’s fault—that’s you,” she added, looking at Theo. He smiled. “I pretended I was glad to see him and I was going to do what he wanted, and then, when he wasn’t looking, I put him away in the bit of my mind where you store stuff, and sort of turned the key and threw it away.” She beamed. It was a rather horrible sight, objectively speaking; imagine a friendly smile from one of those machines that crunches up scrap cars, then garnish with tusks, serve on a bed of wild rice and run for your life. “I can still talk to him, but he can’t talk to me. I talk to him quite a lot, actually. I tell him how much I hate him. I don’t think he likes it in there.” She grinned. “Tough.”

  Mordak looked at her. “I have no idea what she’s talking about,” he said.

  Tinituviel sighed. “You wouldn’t,” he said, “you’re a man. Well, you’re a non-female goblin.”

  “Ah,” Theo said, “that explains it. I was wondering about that. I take it you people practise non-viviparous parthenogenic reproduction.” He nodded. “Thought so, because… ouch,” he added, and massaged his ribcage, which later proved not to be cracked but only bruised, so that was all right.

  “Women,” Tinituviel went on, “can do that. It’s called multitasking. Don’t try and understand.”

  Mordak looked at Theo, who nodded, then shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “But if you’re telling me I don’t have to worry because she’s got Him locked up inside her head—”

  “For as long as she lives,” Tinituviel said; and then a thought occurred to her. “She is mortal, isn’t she?”

  “I assume so,” Mordak said. “Isn’t everyone?”

  “Actually, no,” Tinituviel purred.

  “Well, she must be, because she got killed.” He stopped and thought about that. “Yes, but He brought her back to life again.”

  Which got him a pitying smile, which he just about managed to take in his stride, for the greater good. “Even He can’t do that,” she said. “I thought you’d have known that, of all people.”

  “But she’s a goblin,” he said. “Therefore she’s mortal. It’s one of the key features of goblins, mortality.”

  “Mphm.” Tinituviel was giving him an odd look. “When you made her,” she said, “you did remember the powdered agate and the teaspoon of oil of cloves?”

  “The what?”

  A click of the tongue so loud that thirty thousand goblins and thirty thousand dwarves, sprawling at rest under the eaves of the greenwood, leapt to their feet and scrabbled for their weapons. “You forgot.”

  “Nobody said anything to me about oil of bloody cloves—”

  Tinituviel nodded gravely. “No, I guess not. It’s my fault, I should’ve supervised it personally. Silly me for thinking you’d be capable of doing anything right left to yourself, no matter how simple.” She cocked her head towards the she-goblin. “She’s immortal.”

  The news sank in, rather in the way a meteorite sinks into the surface of a planet, and sayonara, dinosaurs. “Stone me,” Mordak said. “Just think. My little girl.”

  “Excuse me,” said his little girl huffily. “I am here, you know. What did she just say?”

  “It means you can’t be killed,” he said. “Poppet,” he added. “So, if she’s immortal and she’s got Him locked up safe in her head—”

  “Is that right?” said the she-goblin. “I’m going to live for ever and ever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh,” the she-goblin said. “That’s—”

  “Yes,” Mordak said firmly, “but never mind about that right now. If she’s immortal—”

  “Problem solved,” Tinituviel said happily. “There, you see? I don’t know why you got yourself in such a state about it, really.”

  Mordak laughed. “And all because I had the vision and the foresight to create a female goblin. I love it when I turn out to have been right all along.”

  Theo cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said.

  “No,” said Mordak. “Anyway, as I was saying, what I really like about being right—”

  “It won’t work,” Theo said. “Sorry.”

  The she-goblin scowled at him. “What did he just say?”

  “I’m sorry,” Theo repeated. “But the whole thing is based on a false premise.
”

  Mordak shrugged. “Premises, premises. What do you know about anything anyway? You’re just a—”

  “Scientist,” Theo said, gently but very firmly. “And you can’t just compartmentalise your mind like that and lock something away, it simply can’t be done. Detailed studies by Atkinson and Cheng—”

  “He’s barmy,” Mordak said uneasily. “He is barmy, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a human,” Tinituviel said. “But then again, you’re a goblin, and just occasionally, from time to time, usually by pure fluke, you get things right. So maybe—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the she-goblin said.

  “There there, poppet,” Mordak said vaguely. “Look, is he right or isn’t he? Because this is important—”

  “No,” said the she-goblin, and they all turned round and looked at her. “It isn’t. Because he’s gone. My nasty friend. I just looked. He’s not there any more. He’s gone.”

  “Oh, hello,” said Ms. White. “You’re not dead, then.”

  George shook his head. “No thanks to you, you stupid cow,” he said. “Chucking bloody great bits of glass at people. What do you want to go doing a thing like that for?”

  “I was upset.”

  “You’re touched in the head, is what you are,” George said. “And it’s all your fault. I ought to smash your face in.”

  “Excuse me? What did I do?”

  George slumped down with his back to a tree trunk. “Me getting stuck here, you daft bitch,” he said. “You heard what the man said. Border closed. Stuck in this godawful place for ever and ever.”

  “Ah. That.”

  “Yeah, that. There I was, safe on the other side. Never even occurred to me those lunatics would vote Leave.” He shook his head. “So I just nipped back for five minutes, to kick your teeth in for trying to kill me, and guess what, I’m stranded. Thank you ever so much.”

  Ms. White gave him a sad smile. “It’s just not your day, is it?”

  “You could say that. Still.” He shifted uncomfortably, as though something was irritating him. “Always make the best of things, is my motto.”

  “Positive thinking,” said Ms. White. “Excellent.”