Grak: Orc on Vacation (Orc PI Book 2)

by Joseph J. Bailey

  “You got it, sir!”

  I really had no idea what people would offer for the tickets.

  I knew even less what I would like for them.

  But surprises are best when you know nothing about them.

  “You may want to get comfortable in the new ship. I am counting on you to drive it.”

  I did not mention that I would be most effective at breaking things on the ship rather than guiding or fixing them. George was smart. He could read between the lines—loud and clear.

  “Once we’ve taken care of our last little bit of business, we’ll be ready to leave. You’ll probably want to talk to Orthanq about demon repellent. I wouldn’t want you gobbled up by hellspawn as well.

  “Although Orthanq said he is unfamiliar with the demon, he may also have some guidance on how to deal with it, based on the information we’ve seen.”

  “I am already on it! Orthanq gave me a vat of anti-infernal oil to bathe my virtual synapses and processors in. Plus, it smells like roses after a spring rain.”

  “If you hadn’t just made that up, I might ask for some. Who knows what hell might break out after we try to choke a ship-devouring demon?”

  “We’ll be up to the task, sir!”

  “You may want to inquire with Fluxcoil, nonetheless. Better to prepare than perish.”

  “I cannot argue with your logic, sir.”

  “Great! Can you go ahead and ask Kordeun and Yoctoerg if they would like to meet for dinner and drinks? They can choose the place. If they are available, let them know I’m coming from Alyon.”

  “I will inquire and let you know, sir!”

  “Thanks, George. And you can still call me Grak.”

  His relief tangible in the air, George replied, “Thank you, Grak.”

  Although sometimes it killed me to have a heart, other times it made life worth living.

  27

  We met at the Witches’ Britches, a small restaurant inside the bole of an ancient tree in the Palisades District of the city. Walking up to the establishment, I marveled not only that a restaurant was here, hidden in the gnarled trunk of a tree, but that someone would name the place after witches’ pants.

  Maybe the food here was so good that it blew the pants off enchantresses?

  Although it was close to the public lifts to and from Alyon, I rarely visited the Palisades outside of case work—and case work here was infrequent—so I seldom ate in the area. By all accounts in the Undercity, the food was good enough to knock anyone’s pants off, so I made sure to cinch the chain belt around my waist lest I fall victim to any witches’ tricks.

  The pair of voluminous pantaloons blowing in the air like an oversized flag over the restaurant entry were worth the trip by themselves.

  These were probably the first pants to get blown off.

  If those pants were from a real witch, she was a giant.

  She could easily serve me up in a stew.

  Which did little to affect my appetite.

  My stomach was impervious to threats, real or potential.

  There were no steps leading in. One simply walked to the tree’s trunk between two large buttressed roots and entered through a hollow in the tree. The interior was rather atmospheric, a tasteful mixture of intimate shadows and dancing torchlight.

  I could certainly see some witchy rituals occurring inside.

  Hopefully, the rites were only being performed on the food to enhance its flavor.

  But a few curses for extra spice would be welcome too.

  I was getting excited just thinking about magically enhanced delicacies—eye of newt, toe of frog, adder’s fork, blind-worm’s sting, or lizard’s leg, it all sounded good to me!

  Yoctoerg and Kordeun waved me over as I walked in. The hosts, two anuvatari who looked more like druids than witches, gave me a warm smile and ushered me back to my friends.

  Here in the Center City, I probably looked like something witches would summon, but no one showed any alarm or disdain at my appearance. I was just another diner among many trying oddities that generally turned out not to be so odd.

  “Howdy, Grak!” Yoctoerg lit up like an enchantress’s conjuration as I sat down.

  “Evenin’, all,” I said, my smile as warm as my greeting.

  Kordeun, as usual, was a dwarf on a mission. That mission was food, and he always accepted it. “I hear tha toad livers here’re some o’ tha best around.”

  I had never heard of toad livers being offered at restaurants, much less being discussed for their gustatory qualities, so I would take his word on it.

  Given his penchant for weird foods, I supposed that was one of many reasons why Kordeun fit in so well at Orthanq’s. After all, if Kordeun could eat like a monster, then monsters were more apt to like him. By all accounts, he was the most well-liked dwarf to ever set foot in the King’s Crown.

  Which, in truth, was not the highest bar to be evaluated against.

  But he was liked, nonetheless.

  Kordeun only had eyes for the menu hovering over the table before us. “Tha pickled basilisk feet sound really intriguin’.” As he spoke, Kordeun kept switching between images of food choices that appeared over the table in a frenetic effort to narrow down his meal options.

  “Why don’t you just get one of everything, Kord?” Yocto’s suggestion was sound, and it would let us get a look at the menu as well.

  “Good thinkin’, Yocto! One o’ everything won’t disappoint!”

  “You may need your own table,” I cautioned.

  “Bah! I’m eatin’ fer three. If I can eat more’n tha both of ya combined, I’m treatin’ myself ta seconds.”

  Raising my eyebrows and shaking my head, I snorted, “I’m hungry, Kord, but I’m not about to get into an eating contest with you. Mostly because the only thing I’ll win is a stomach ache.”

  “By Brendle’s bones, ya better believe it! I can eat tha both of ya under tha table and come back fer more.”

  I have a simple rule: it’s not bragging if it’s true.

  I decided that Kordeun had a dragon in his stomach, for he could eat his bodyweight in food.

  “You know as well as I that you would eat the table before we got under it, Kord.” My words were based on fact. I had seen Kordeun try to eat several tables in his haste to eat everything in front of him.

  I blamed his table manners on his berserk dwarven eating fury.

  Compared to Kordeun, I had the table manners of a most noble courtier.

  And that was saying something, since orcanda are not exactly known for our tact or etiquette.

  “Here’s what you need.” Yoctoerg pointed to an item under Warlock’s Specials. “The Bottomless Broth.

  “The menu says this will drown the hardiest appetite in a blissful brew.”

  “There ya have it!” Kordeun called out in a challenge accepted. “Anythin’ that is both a brew and bottomless has got ta be good!”

  I was not about to argue with him, since that might put me in between Kordeun and his food. The prospect of being eaten by a demon was scary enough.

  “Since you’re getting a soup, I think I’ll try something similar. The Hell Broth sounds interesting.” Anything that claimed to bite back twice as hard as the diner must have quite a kick.

  I could use a little bit of excitement. Eating the Hell Broth would be part of my training regimen for being consumed by a demon.

  “What’re ya havin’, Yocto?” Kordeun asked excitedly. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was hoping Yocto would choose something to his liking. Mostly because Kordeun generally got to eat Yocto’s leftovers.

  “The Sorceress’s Smorgasbord looks pretty good. It has a little bit of everything, plus some more. Surprise is the spice of life!”

  “I think we’re ready ta order, then!” Kordeun dismissed the menu decisively, which alerted our waiter to our needs.

  A small goblin, perhaps the size of a morsel that might be served up in a well-crafted Hell Broth, sauntered over to take
our orders. “My name is Gorlac, and I will be your server tonight.

  “How may I assist you, gentlemen? Do you have any questions about the menu? Would you like to hear about today’s specials?”

  I let Kordeun handle the ordering. He was in such a hurry to get his food that he couldn’t wait for us to tell the waiter what we wanted.

  As Gorlac left to put in our orders, I asked, “Have you not eaten since last we spoke, Kord? You act like you haven’t eaten in half an hour or more.” I suspected that Kordeun had a feeding tube hidden under his beard. Without the tube, or a pocket dimension full of rations, he probably couldn’t go more than fifteen minutes between meals.

  “Been workin’ out with my axe a bit, is all. Was gettin’ a bit soft. Gotta fuel tha machine ta make it burn!”

  Having seen Kordeun wreak havoc with his axe, I would say he had very little need to practice, especially if he wanted to give enemies a sporting chance. But given how little chance he gave his food, enemies seldom fared any better.

  Gorlac came back with our drinks while we waited for the food. Yocto stuck with the water we had received when he sat down while I savored the aroma of brimstone from the Succubus’s Sacrifice Sanguine Cider I had ordered. Kordeun seemed quite happy with his Maiden’s Tears as well.

  “Everythin’ in order with tha supplies fer yer trip?” Kordeun’s question came with a knowing smile.

  My face lit up like the nova surrounding Fluxcoil. “They gave me a powersaw! Can you believe it? That alone is worth the trip! Wanna see it?”

  I reached for my chain belt to detach the saw’s handle from the carabiner from which it hung.

  “Better hold off on that, Grak, if you hope to finish your dinner.” Ever the voice of reason, Yoctoerg’s logic prevailed.

  “But it’s so cool!” My fingers itched to draw the powersaw and show what it could do. The powersaw would cut through this solid wooden table like… Well, like a powersaw cut through almost anything.

  “And gettin’ ta use it against tha demon’ll be even cooler. Just contain yer excitement a wee bit longer, ’n all yer dreams’ll come true.”

  I listened to reason.

  It was difficult.

  But I listened.

  Despite wanting to put my fingers in my ears and scream out loud.

  “Give me just a minute, and I’ll show you something else.”

  I rose and walked to the men’s room. I approached the door warily, uncertain if it might be an ANGST booby-trap or merely a place to refresh and relieve oneself. I hoped for the latter. I had visited the former far too frequently.

  My heart rate rose noticeably as I reached for the knob and opened the door.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that I would not be transported to another ANGST dungeon.

  Flashbacks can be almost as bad as anticipated flash-forwards.

  The bathroom was decorated tastefully with sacrificial items indicative of the dark arts. I made sure to touch as little as possible as I changed into my new threads.

  The time had come to unleash the ALOHA shirt on an unsuspecting universe.

  I chose a bright emerald-green floral print to contrast as strongly with the gloomy décor as possible.

  Plus, it complemented my skin tone.

  With some strategic buttoning of the shirt and the svelte new slacks, I went from ruffled to resort in a few moments.

  I won’t say that I strutted out of the bathroom, but there was an extra bounce to my step.

  As I approached the table, Kordeun whistled. “If there’s any foliage lookin’ fer a mate at tha tournament, I think tha plants are gonna be linin’ up fer ya, Grak!”

  Yocto smiled. Like most gnomes, he had little room to talk. Tonight, Yocto was dressed like a clown whose mother had patched his clothes with the worn-out bits of other clowns’ suits…and their broken playthings. “I can see vacation all over it!”

  I retook my seat at the table. “I like the look so much that I think this will be what I wear all the time.”

  “All the time?” Kordeun asked incredulously, as if he was rethinking the status of our friendship and whether my clothes had a place in it.

  “Yep. They clean themselves, and I can change the pattern any time I want.”

  “Now, that’s somethin’!” laughed Kordeun.

  I refrained from telling them about the real benefits of the ALOHA clothing. Some secrets are better kept secret.

  Especially when they may one day lead to a bit of fun with your friends.

  “Aside from the clothes, there’s quite a lot more on my new ship, from explosives to weaponry…”

  Before I could finish, Gorlac returned with a tray hovering before him.

  Gesturing grandly, Gorlac said, “Your meals, gentlemen!” and our plates floated onto the table in front of us.

  The first thing I noticed was that each meal was served in a special isolating dish. This probably minimized the risk of deadly interactions between the entrées. My Hell Broth, for instance, appeared to be liquid fire simmering in a black pot that doubled as a cauldron for local witches’ rituals.

  Kordeun’s Bottomless Broth came in a large oaken barrel that actually sat beside the table. I looked in and wished I hadn’t. The broth might be bottomless, but the stuff in there looked to have been dredged up from some bottom.

  Yocto’s Sorceress’s Smorgasbord was arrayed tactfully across plate after plate of small samples. At first glance, the dish looked like a collection of all the components a witch would need to make almost any arcane draught she needed for recipes in her pot. I did not give it a second glance, for my Hell Broth was calling.

  “If you need anything else, gentlemen, let me know. Bon appetit!”

  Gorlac bowed as he left us to our fates.

  This was adventurous eating at its finest.

  The Hell Broth certainly lived up to its name. It was, however, worth every fiery slurp. The fires of damnation had never tasted so good.

  I could see that Kordeun was enjoying the challenge of his meal. By the time he was finished, he should earn another kazzak to adorn his beard…if the food didn’t incinerate his hairs first.

  Poor Yoctoerg, in stark contrast, was suffering through every reluctant bite. His courageousness was commendable, but I expected him to give up at any moment.

  Beet red, his nose running and his eyes watering relentlessly, Yocto said, “I don’t think I can take any more without a protective charm. Check that—a few protective charms.”

  “I know. Ain’t it great?” Kordeun gushed happily. Not only could he put food away like a dragon, apparently, Kordeun had the lining of a dragon’s stomach as well.

  I smiled wickedly. “This’ll be a night you’ll never forget. You get to feel what it’s like to eat a demon while I prepare to be served up to one.”

  “Don’t ya worry, lad. I’ll finish what ya can’t.” Kordeun was ever the gentleman.

  Yoctoerg tried to laugh but choked and sputtered on the spices in his mouth.

  “Are ya ready fer tha adventure ahead?” Kordeun asked me.

  “I’m ready to watch some Wizarding, not get all warm and cozy with a demon. Since you asked, have either of you changed your mind about coming?”

  “Bah! Eatin’ this is about as close as I want ta come ta a demon o’ that order, Wizardin’ or no.”

  “And this is closer than I want to come already,” chimed in Yoctoerg.

  I snorted. “Your bravery serves you well. But, honestly, I can’t blame you. Who wants to be stuck dangling on a string in the interdimensional warp offered to a demon?”

  “You?” Yoctoerg asked with an evil grin.

  “Want and need are two very different things,” I countered.

  “Ya just want ta be needed, is all,” Kordeun mouthed around a heaping spoonful of ichor.

  “You’ve found me out,” I joked before swallowing another mouthful of liquid fire.

  “What’re ya gonna do with tha extra tickets?” asked Kordeun.
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  “Well, since you two slackers don’t wanna come, I suppose I’ll put them up for sale to see what people will offer for them. Any thoughts on what I should ask?”

  Yoctoerg was quick to respond. “The value will depend on the buyer. I would see what people offer and take the most appealing option.”

  “That’s what George suggested. I wouldn’t want to limit what I could get by what I think I should get.”

  “Aye. That’s solid dwarven thinkin’, there! With Yocto’s help, I’d offer ya those karaduen tattoos, but ya’ll probably be able ta afford me and have a dragon’s hoard left over with what some will offer.”

  I appreciated Kordeun’s fairness, for, in truth, as one of a very few Dur’kazak in the realm, his services commanded a very high price, indeed.

  Yoctoerg stroked his eyebrows thoughtfully. “The universe is filled with many wonders of far greater value than two Wizarding tickets, Grak. Finding someone who believes the exact opposite of this, however, should be easy. You will be able to receive almost anything you wish in exchange.”

  Finding someone who appreciated the rarity of the Wizarding tickets and had the means to offer something of worth should not be a problem.

  I was excited to see what offers George received.

  Maybe there would be a few to go over when I got home.

  “If you know anyone who might be interested, pass it on. The tickets are really good. George can share the details with whomever may be interested.”

  “I will make a posting in the dataverses most frequently swum by Paratechnologists,” offered Yocto.

  “I’ll ask around as well,” added Kordeun.

  “Although the tournament is a ways off, I’ll be leaving to start my mission shortly. The sooner I can hear, the better. I don’t mind leaving the tickets for whomever, but I’d like to finalize any offers before I go.”

  “He’s reelin’ and dealin’!” Kordeun barked with a throaty laugh.

  “Reeling?” I asked, confused.

  “Reelin’ from attacks past and those ta come and dealin’ ta make tha most o’ gettin’ beaten down!” Kordeun amended, still snickering.