Things Grak Hates

by Peter J Story

  Kando looks around the tent for a positive response that never comes. He clears his throat and returns to his tablet. “Moving along, the next theory is an intriguing one from Hambo. He noticed that some of us have darker skin than others. This led him to theorize a connection between skin color and intelligence …”

  Grak is growing far too bored already. Normally, he can feign interest through five or six theories, but that doesn’t seem likely today.

  Must be the lack of sleep. Too many late nights with Cordo. Might be good to cut back. Limit interrogations to daylight. At least until I catch up on rest.

  Of course, these theories are also growing duller. Yes, I imagine it’s a combination. Proper sleep is required when attempting to sit through such taxing and monotonous discussions.

  Still, no matter how difficult the task is, Grak has no choice but to push through it. He can’t risk offending Kando right now. In all the recent chaos, the man seems to have regained much of Doran’s old following.

  Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while. I wonder what Doran’s up to these days. Though I suppose it really doesn’t matter in the end. He chose his future when he stopped caring about our friendship.

  Grak shakes off the concern and turns his mind toward more pleasant thoughts. He considers this the best way to pass the time during these theory discussions, as it makes him look interested. As usual, Patyr takes precedence.

  Ahh. Such a pretty pon—

  The sound of a throat being cleared jars Grak’s thoughts. He notices everyone staring at him and deduces that Kando must have finished speaking. He can only hope the man didn’t stop too long ago.

  Grak straightens up in his chair. “So, anything else?”

  The council glances about casually. Several give slight shakes of the head.

  Grak smiles. “Excellent! Then we’ll end there. Be sure to pick up your meeting summary from Opa this ev—”

  “I have something,” interrupts Ruch. “We do, actually.” He and Zacha stand up.

  Grak doesn’t like the look of this. He proceeds with caution. “Well? Out with it, then.”

  Zacha opts to be their voice. “We request to see Cordo.”

  Grak is stunned. He didn’t think they’d try that in public.

  Gutsy. Yet insolent.

  Especially since he only allowed them to stay on the council because they swore total allegiance going forward.

  He recognizes the need for chastisement. “This again? What did I tell you last time?”

  Ruch takes that one. “You said you’d consider it.”

  Hmm. So I did. Best to give a more nebulous answer for similar requests in the future.

  “And I have.” Grak pauses to give his words greater weight. “No, you may not see Cordo. I can’t trust the man. Not with him being so central in Jafra’s schemes.

  “And to be honest, I’m not sure I can trust the two of you, considering the unreasonable amount you’ve been pushing to see him. That strikes me as suspicious. Why so anxious? Do you need more orders from your master?”

  Grak looks around for acknowledgement. Frolan and Kando got the humor at least. Though in all honesty, he wasn’t entirely joking.

  Given Cordo’s attempts to protect Lago, I’m sure he was involved somehow in Jafra’s treachery. And I can’t risk that sort of behavior trickling down to anyone else.

  Zacha replies nervously, “No. Not at all. We only seek to ensure his safety. And his health. You and Frolan are the only ones who have seen Cordo for some time, and the tribe grows worried. That’s all. He still has many friends who seek assurance of his well-being.”

  That sounded like a threat. But Grak isn’t sure. He ponders the probability.

  Doubtful. No one’s likely to oppose me now. It would be folly with all the support I have in camp. And on the council.

  That’s actually a reasonable assessment on Grak’s part. With Frolan and Brak replacing Groka and Cordo on the council, disagreement is at an all-time low.

  I suppose it’s really not much of a risk to just let Ruch and Zacha see the man. Might even scare some sense into them. Stamp out any further ideas of insurrection. At the least, watching the pair squirm would be a sight.

  Then it’s decided. Grak puts on his best, coldest, most powerful stare. “Very well. You may see Cordo.”

  Ruch and Zacha storm out of the holding tent with Grak following close behind. Squinting in the waning sun, he waits for his eyes to adjust, then takes in the sight before him. The two council members look quite comical in their current state, breathing deeply and trying to hold down the day’s food. Grak gestures to Frolan and the four other guards, though only one chuckles in response.

  Satisfied, Grak turns to his guests and nods knowingly. “Yes, it was like that for me too. The first few times after the smell set in. But don’t worry. You get used to it. Isn’t that right, Frolan?”

  The brute nods, but says nothing. Aside from his reports, Frolan has been unusually silent of late. In fact, he’s been that way since the Glorious and Beautiful Day of Grak’s Decisive Defeat of the Hated and Villainous Lago.

  Hmm, maybe I should speak to him. It was probably difficult for the young fellow. To watch that, and all. Poor thing. Probably just needs a shoulder to lean on.

  Ruch finally masters his stomach. “That …” He points to the tent while calming a resurgent wave of nausea. “That is no way to treat a member of our tribe! That is … appalling! It’s no way to treat anyone! Or anything for that matter!”

  Grak is stunned by the man’s comment. “Well if I had known you’d react that way …” He makes an obvious show of disapproval. “You know, I’m beginning to regret my kindness in keeping you on the council. And in letting you see Cordo. If this is the thanks I get. In fact, I might even regret not having you apprehended along with your leader!”

  Zacha holds her hands up defensively. “Wait a moment now. Ruch’s just worried. That’s all. I think it was the sight of so much rope. It must have shocked him.”

  Ruch nods nervously. “Yes. And the leeches. I apologize.”

  Grak considers their explanation for a moment. He rolls his eyes and smiles. “Oh, well why didn’t you say so? The rope was left over from hunting. Decided I might as well use it. No sense in wasting good materials, is there? And the leeches, well, I was trying out one of Hambo’s theories.” He shrugs. “Mixed results so far.”

  Zacha ventures another question. “And the … liberal … use of Cordo’s waste?”

  Grak is a little offended now. “Well you try interrogating someone as stubborn as that guy! He won’t give me anything on Jafra. I have to try what I can.”

  Zacha’s tone takes on a pleading quality. “That’s because he doesn’t know anything. I can assure you.”

  Hmm. Almost too quick with that reply. Was this whole thing planned?

  “It’s true!” Cordo’s raspy voice penetrates the tent. “I have no idea where she and Groka went. But I’m willing to help you track them if you free me.”

  Grak is getting frustrated now. “Quiet in there!” He turns to Ruch and Zacha. “Now look what you’ve done! You got him all worked up, and he broke his lip stitches. This conversation is over. Be thankful I’m not apprehending the two of you.”

  Zacha’s stubbornness flares up again. “Bu—”

  “No!” Grak didn’t want to, but he was forced to use his angry voice.

  “Fine,” mumbles Zacha—an unexpected ability, given the size of her mouth.

  The two give feeble attempts at courteous farewells, then turn and stroll away. Clearly they’re whispering as they walk, but Grak can’t hear the content. He shrugs it off.

  No matter, they’re powerless without Cordo. Still, it’d be nice if they tried a little harder to work with me. Some people are such sore losers. They just need to admit defeat graciously. If you’ve lost, you’ve lost. Why get all whiny about it? Or try to run away like Jafra and Groka? Just take your punishment like an adult. Like him.

&
nbsp; Grak looks at Lago. Or what’s left of him. He was forced to move the head out of his tent when it began to stink—which took far less time than he thought it would.

  But what he first believed was a problem turned out to be something of a solution. He found a nice spot for the head here at the holding tent where it has proven far more useful. Not only does it ward off unwanted visitors, but being visible from the cook site makes it a poignant reminder of a traitor’s fate.

  If only I could add Cordo’s head. Though, I’d have to remove that abominable growth first.

  But to his dismay, it’s just not an opportune time for that. The sudden appearance of a spike bearing the man’s head might inspire a panic among his former faithful. Still, given a long enough wait, Grak is certain he can make it happen. He rolls his eyes.

  Procedures.

  Grak turns to Frolan. “So, what else is on the schedule for the day?”

  The brute responds with distance. “I need to prepare for tomorrow’s search. We’ll be leaving at dawn. But your day is empty.”

  Grak checks his shadow. “Well, I suppose I have time for another interrogation session. Care to watch?”

  Frolan shakes his head. “No, thank you. If you don’t need me, it’d be best if I start tomorrow’s preparations right away and get to sleep early.”

  Grak shrugs. “Well, more for me then.” He smiles to demonstrate a clear joke.

  Regardless, the humor is lost on Frolan. The man nods his farewell, then pivots about and walks away in silence. While disappointed, Grak opts to shrug it off.

  He’s just feeling pressured, that’s all. As soon as he finds the fugitives, he can take some time off. That should help. And before long, we’ll be good friends once again.

  With that weight lifted, Grak turns toward the tent and offers a quick nod of formality to the guards before slipping inside. As usual his eyes immediately begin their adjustment.

  “So, Cordo. Will you give me the answers I need?” He waits for a moment as his vision fades from black to gray. “Come on. No sense holding anything back. Sooner or later, we’ll find those two. And we’ll get a confession out of them. Probably not Jafra, but Groka should be simple enough. So why not help us now and receive some leniency?”

  Grak’s eyes finish adjusting, and the sight forces a shiver up his spine. But only a slight one. While he’s familiar with the view, there’s always some new sore or other revulsion that catches him off guard.

  He gathers himself quickly. “Well? Not saying anything again? That’s not the wisest course of action. But fine, have it your way.”

  Grak picks up the skin rake: a new invention he had Aza put together. He’s quite proud of the idea.

  Grak sits up. The moments he’s been able to set aside for sleep have been uneasy of late, and this afternoon is proving no exception. He thought it’d be wise to rest up after the interrogation, but that may have been unrealistic. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get comfortable enough to force sleep.

  Grak sighs, straightening his tunic as he stands.

  Well, best get an early start on my evening duties, I suppose. Speaking of which, where is Brak when I need him? I’m sure he’s already late for my foot rub. The fool. Always running off at the most inopportune moments. And for what? Who can know with that dolt?

  Grak steps outside in a perturbed state. He takes a moment to stretch while looking about, pondering where the man might be. But his gaze lingers too long while searching faces across the path, and one woman takes that as an invitation to wave. It’s Itha, from the hunting team. He pretends not to notice her. It doesn’t work.

  She walks over. “Oh hello, Grak! I was just on my way to the cook site. Funny bumping into you like this along the way. What are you up to?”

  Grak is surprised by the woman’s sudden kindness. He promoted her to lead the hunters after Cordo’s capture, hoping it would instill loyalty, but he had no idea his plan was doing so well.

  Is she finally warming up to me? I suppose so. Well, it certainly took her long enough.

  Grak remembers to answer. “Yes, well it’s none of your concern what I’m doing. I don’t need to explain myself to you!” In retrospect, he realizes a softer approach might have gone over better.

  And yet, the woman’s still here. Though she’s not speaking. How bizarre. And awkward.

  Itha finally breaks the silence. “So, how about those theories yesterday? Did you catch them?”

  Grak has no patience for this. “Nope. I’m not sitting through another conversation about those theories. I’ve already had to do it once today, and I’m far too busy to repeat such a pointless endeavor.” He identifies another missed opportunity.

  Itha looks troubled. “Ah, yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy. Just found them interesting is all.”

  Grak feels he can still salvage this. “Yes, well I’ll let it slide this time. Just don’t let it happen again.” A decent reversal.

  Though perhaps I should have added a touch of charm. Hmm, yes. That would definitely help. Remember for next time, Grak. Remem—

  He’s torn out of his memory trick by incomprehensible shouting coming from somewhere nearby.

  Grak looks about furiously. “Don’t these fools remember any of my policies?” he asks no one in particular while still expecting an answer.

  One of his guards, Mazo, ventures a theory. “It sounds like security is raising an alarm.”

  Grak freezes and cranes to listen. That might be true, but he can’t quite tell. The system he put in place seemed simple at first, but proves more confusing by the day. It consists of each guard shouting the alarm they’re trying to raise, while all guards in earshot pass the message along. But despite its beauty, Grak is now realizing the idea might be flawed.

  Yes, definitely need to develop something clearer. And less chaotic too.

  Mazo’s hearing must be sharper, as he suddenly catches the message and turns in shock. “Cordo has escaped!” He bellows it now. “Cordo has escaped! Cordo has escaped!”

  Grak covers his ears.

  Hmm, and less abrasive on the ears too.

  He signals for the man to stop shouting. “I don’t remember scheduling any drills for today. Where’s Frolan? If he did this without my knowl—”

  He’s interrupted by the sight of Frolan running up with six of his team. All have weapons drawn and are wearing dire expressions. It dawns on Grak that this might not be an exercise.

  “Frolan! Is it true?” he yells with a mixture of rage and confusion. “How, in all the land, did he escape?” Grak adds some scolding to his tone. “Did you leave four guards at all times like I told you?”

  Frolan signals for his team to halt. “Yes sir, I did. It appears they cut through the rear of the tent. I’ve sent security to the camp perimeter as per the protocol, and I’m heading off now to begin the systematic search. I would suggest you remain inside, sir. Just until everything’s clear.”

  Grak weighs his safety against the possibility of more prestige from a second high profile capture. He shakes his head. “No, I’m coming with you.”

  Frolan shrugs and nods. “Ver—”

  Yelling from the north interrupts them. The shouts are closer this time, and Grak easily catches the words.

  Cordo’s been captured. Impressive speed. Well done!

  He runs north at a brisk pace with Frolan close behind. Grak finds himself glad once more to have lost some weight since the whole Lago ordeal. It certainly makes running easier. And faster.

  They promptly arrive at the northern tent line, and Grak pauses for a moment of composure. He takes a few calming breaths and straightens his tunic. Then, with head held high, he dons his most dignified demeanor and approaches, taking in his surroundings as he walks.

  Seven guards stand watch over three kneeling figures, each wearing a cloak with the hood pulled back. Of the three, Cordo is the only one Grak can identify from this distance.

  That mole would be hard to miss at twice this span. And I
suppose the bleeding wounds also make him easy to spot. But mostly the mole.

  The other two require a moment longer to place, but as Grak draws near, he recognizes them. Nila and Quolo. From the hunting team.

  It appears they’re not all as loyal as Itha. Remember to speak with her about keeping her people in line, Grak. Remember to speak with her. Remember to speak with her.

  Grak reaches the captives and pauses. He surveys the surrounding tribe. Many have already gathered to watch, and more are still pouring in. Some faces wear concern. Others show fear. But all are apprehensive.

  Careful then, Grak. This could be a delicate matter. How you handle things will determine whether the issue results in stability or chaos.

  Grak nods in agreement with the thought. Then he punches Cordo. Most of the crowd cheers, but some are clearly upset by this.

  Well, that shows where my children stand on the issue.

  Grak raises his voice loud enough for all to hear. “To those of you feeling sympathy for this traitor, let me remind you of what he’s done. When I finally captured Lago, Cordo wanted to release him. When I gave Lago his long-awaited justice, Cordo tried to stop me. When I tried to capture Jafra for aiding Lago, Cordo helped her escape. And when I asked him why he did it, do you know what he said? He said he wanted to see the tribe suffer!”

  The crowd gasps. Many conversations flare up, but sentiment is clearly in Grak’s favor.

  Cordo shakes his head with all the vigor he can muster. “No, please. I didn’t,” is all he can manage in a weak voice that only carries several feet.

  Grak strikes the man again. “Keep silent or you’ll make matters worse for yourself!”

  He returns his focus to the crowd. “And what did I do? I showed him mercy. I decided not to execute him. Out of the kindness of my heart. And how does he repay me? He tries to escape and attack our people!”

  Grak pauses, letting the tribe’s anger grow into a frenzy before continuing. “So I ask you, what mercy remains for such an incorrigible traitor?”

  Numerous derogatory shouts aimed at Cordo make their way through the roar. The tribe is barely contained now. In fact, Grak is fairly certain they’d rip the man apart if allowed. He considers that.