“So, why did you come out tonight, Kordeun? Surely a dwarf of your stature has other things to do.
“And nicer places to do them in.”
Kordeun snorted. “In my time, I’ve done enough and I’ve not done enough.
“Life is long. I try ta keep it interestin’.
“That’s one o’ tha things ’bout livin’ in Alyon, Grak, and I’ve been here a long while. As amazin’ as th’ city is, full o’ wonders from across tha macroverse, it’s safe, far safer’n I imagined it would be ’fore I came.
“What d’ya do fer enjoyment here?
“What d’ya do ta keep things interestin’?
“How d’ya keep a bit o’ tha spice in life?
“I’ll tell ya. It’s by findin’ ways ta take risks, ta keep things new. By addin’ a bit o’ sheen ta an old coin, if ya will.”
Having spent more than my fair share of time in Alyon, I did not disagree with him in the slightest.
All else being equal, despite my protests, I looked forward to getting slammed into mountains.
Daily.
The inspirational powers of boredom are never to be underestimated.
“Why d’ya think those Paratechnologists have such a high chance o’ failure with their devices?
“Ta keep things excitin’!
“Ta give ’em somethin’ ta do!
“D’ya think they need ta make their contraptions so complicated? So crazy?
“D’ya think their gizmos need ta blow up so often or have other bizarre effects?
“No!
“Paratechnologists can build just about anythin’ possible, from artificial intelligences ta interdimensional ships.
“Their inventions work tha way they do ta give them somethin’ ta do.
“I’m no different.
“I’m just an old dwarf tryin’ ta keep things interestin’.”
Not really disagreeing, I countered, “I can’t say stakeouts are generally considered exciting.”
My rebuttal was weak even to my ears.
“But it’s more adventure than I would have had otherwise, Grak.”
“There is that,” I agreed.
“Plus I’ve gotten ta go, see, and do things I never would’ve otherwise.”
“There is that as well,” I conceded.
I needed to be more like Kordeun.
I needed a change.
Risk, variety, and excitement.
Just then, there was a knock on the bar’s back door.
17
To say I was disappointed after I had leapt up and opened the door with all the lightness and exhilaration of youth would be an understatement.
A small drone was hovering in the air with a parcel larger than itself suspended beneath.
“Please sign,” the drone said.
A projection of a flat white surface appeared in the air before me. I scrawled my name on its plane quickly. When I had finished, the image disappeared, and the package floated over to me. As the drone zipped away down the alley carved between shops to its next assignment, I looked left and right to see if anything else was on its way or if anything had been left by the door.
The alley was empty.
I suppose I should not have gotten my expectations up, hoping that the first thing that fell into my lap would lead me to the source of the city’s malaise.
But I had.
I blame the alcohol.
I opened the box as I let the door shut automatically behind me. A glowing, iridescent box of Noxiclean Everything Cleaner, “1000 times more powerful than leading cleaners combined,” was nestled inside amongst the packing materials.
I set the box disconsolately on one of the shelves of cleaning supplies.
From his perch atop an assortment of boxes, Kordeun effused, “Don’t be down, Grak! Tha mornin’s young! There’re plenty o’ chances fer more packages ta come and leads ta follow!”
I nodded to Detective Kordeun of the Undercity Special Crimes Division. Smiling with the thought, I said, “You’re right. I’m just a bit out of sorts from not getting enough rest.
“I’m getting old.”
“Bah! Ya’re as old as ya think, Grak! Take a nap. If anyone knocks, I’ll stall ’em long enough fer ya ta rouse and entangle ’em with yer web o’ inquiry.” His grin mirrored mine.
No sooner had I nestled myself in amongst a cushy stack of boxes than I fell asleep.
“Special delivery!”
I jumped to my feet, and boxes fell over and collapsed as I trundled through the shifting pile, wading to the door. Shaking my left leg to free myself of the box of Creature Chew—the Snack that Bites Back!—that had attached itself to my foot and refused to let go, I managed to reach the door just before Kordeun.
That was when I realized we should have discussed a plan for what we should do before someone arrived.
I was, I decided, quite possibly the worst private investigator in Alyon.
That certainly explained why my rates were so low.
Thinking fast—for me—I realized that we had two options. Either we could take whatever was offered and see if it was the source of the transformations, or we could follow whomever was outside to see if he led us back to where the contaminated items originated.
Knowing that we could investigate the parcels later, I decided to follow whomever was outside in the hopes that he might lead us to the source of the outbreak.
Of course, as I opened the door to look upon another drone, I realized that I might be better off just asking Orthanq who his suppliers were and calling on them to see where their goods were stored and who had access to them.
This option, too, could wait.
I had been sitting around the bar long enough and was looking for a bit of excitement.
However misguided my intentions might be.
18
“Get ready,” I said to Kordeun. “As soon as I’m done signing, we’re going after it.”
We both knew what it was.
What I lacked in speed, I made up for with dogged determination and incredible endurance.
Of course, the drone had all these things and unbelievable speed, so our chances of tailing it were slim.
In retrospect, I probably would have been better off just asking the drone the location it received its packages from or tracking the packages’ delivery route through the Construct.
I also might have chosen slightly different language.
But, in the moment, I was primed for action, and action I would have.
I quickly scratched my name across the virtual sheet the drone projected in the air and charged toward the bot, letting the parcel it offered float past me to land on the floor by the doorframe. My intention was to reach the doorway before the drone flew away and then follow it as closely as possible.
What I did not anticipate was the drone interpreting my actions as hostilely aggressive, the drone’s intelligence, and the drone’s defensive capabilities.
I suppose, again upon recollection, that a giant green monster charging directly at something after saying “we’re going after it” could be viewed as slightly threatening.
The ferocious bolt of blinding blue-white electricity that smashed full-on into my chest left little room for interpretation of the drone’s perspective.
I would certainly judge such a response as aggressive.
Losing motor control, stunned, I dropped to the floor like one of Orthanq’s sacks of root vegetables.
I did get a nice view of Orthanq’s floor as I landed face-first on the cool, smoothly polished surface.
It was surprisingly clean.
Probably from the Noxiclean.
Before I could right myself, the drone was gone.
Then the heavy metal door slammed shut on my head.
Thankfully, Orthanq’s door was not dented.
From somewhere behind me, I heard Kordeun ask, “Ya alive?”
He was generally successful in holding back his snickers.
I
stood up slowly, mostly because I was filled with mortification at being caught unawares and reacting so poorly.
The shock had not hurt me.
Just my pride.
“Ya know, if that’d been anyone else other’n you, they might just be char about now.”
Kordeun was a wellspring of support.
“Fact is, I’m a bit surprised ya absorbed all that energy. Not a bit o’ it came ta me.”
Truly.
I resisted the urge to tell him it was because I was so grounded.
“My gift to you,” I said blandly through the haze of smoke curling off my burnt and blasted clothing.
“Reckon we can just ask tha next drone where it’s from?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said.
Then I walked over and opened the package.
Inside was a luminous box of Toxiclean Everything Cleaner Plus, “1000 times more potent than the power of leading cleaners combined.”
So, if the Noxiclean was anything to judge by, it was at least a million times stronger than other cleaners?
I hoped those leading cleaners were relatively weak. Otherwise, this stuff could be the death of anyone unfortunate enough to use it.
I wondered if Alyon’s defenders stocked an arsenal of Noxiclean and Toxiclean to ward off attackers.
I picked up the box cautiously and showed it to Kordeun, pointing to the logo. “What’s with this stuff? Is this some kind of cleaning arms race? Are these cleaners of mass destruction?”
I was getting worked up as I thrust the box closer to Kordeun for his inspection. “If these cleaners are as potent as they say, if they’re mixed wrong, they could blow up the city, purge it of all life, or melt it to the ground!”
“Grak.” Kordeun’s voice was calm, deceptively mollifying. “Orthanq serves extradimensional bein’s here. Demons, devils, infernals, and nightmares. He serves creatures many consider ta be monsters.
“He has ta have potent cleanin’ supplies.”
I saw Kordeun’s point.
Orthanq needed to stay in business and not kill his customers.
Right now, he wasn’t doing so well with the second part.
And the first was struggling as a result.
As an orc, I never gave the cleanliness of my utensils, plates, or mugs serious consideration, especially at a restaurant or bar.
I just ate and drank.
And the dishes cleaned themselves at my cave.
At Orthanq’s bar, the residual slime of one monstrosity might kill another. One demon’s saliva might drive others mad.
Or worse.
Or worse…
My eyes widened in realization.
Cleaning supplies!
“I think we need to call in the specialists.”
“How d’ya mean?”
“We need to see what residual stuff is left on Orthanq’s dishes after cleaning. We need to see how, or if, some of these things may react with each other or trigger some reaction.”
“Ya’re thinkin’ that some o’ these things might combine ta cause tha transformations?”
“That’s just what I’m thinking.”
If that were the case, it would not necessarily solve the mystery of the monstrous transfigurations, but it would get us closer to the cause.
Then we could eliminate those items that were the source of the transformations to bring the city back to safety…and the carefree enjoyment of alcoholic spirits.
Instead of looking for tampered-with packages and products or something added to Orthanq’s and other restaurants’ supplies, maybe we needed to see how these common items might be manipulated to create the same effects in a way that was much harder to detect.
After all, no one had yet identified the source of the transformative agents in the locations where the outbreaks had happened.
“I think it’s time to call Arcwhistle to see if he will help.”
19
If ever there was a hole in the wall bar, it’s the King’s Crown. Although the bar’s interior is deceptively sophisticated for an establishment that caters to monsters and extradimensional horrors, from the outside, the entry is but a relatively small cave opening branching off from one of the many large caverns in the Undercity.
So, the front entrance truly is a hole in the wall.
The exterior cavern is vast.
A small city would fit comfortably within its convoluted reaches.
In truth, one actually does, for the chamber is filled with shops and homes from floor to ceiling. Lights from storefronts and households dot the walls all around on multiple tiered levels. Stairs, ladders, walkways, and lifts move between these levels, connecting all the gathered lives in a complex weave. Side passages, both natural and cut, branch off this main chamber into the underground equivalent of alleyways, lanes, and large boulevards.
Although one of the shadier areas of the Undercity, this area, lovingly called the Grim by its residents, is deceptively welcoming in its design. Far above, glowing tendrils of suspended luminescent plants and fungi descend earthward like iridescent stalactites and jungle vines. Glowing faceted rocks offer a range of lights in every tone and hue of the rainbow. Swaths of floating orbs resemble fireflies hovering overhead at dusk. Fountains and flowing water lend a musical quality to the air while also softening any echoes from the many Citizens who make this expansive space their home.
Kordeun and I walked together out of the King’s Crown into this much larger exterior cavern on our way to my place.
The plan was to call Arcwhistle as soon as we got to my apartment.
Numerous thronging pedestrians were making their way through the chamber, lending it life and vibrancy that complemented the radiance from the phosphorescent plants and glowing stones growing and set into the walls. There were almost as many different species present as there were Citizens going about their business.
Behind us and off to the right, only a few short paces from the bar’s entry, the alleyway connecting this chamber to another similar cavern cut into the rock face beside the King’s Crown.
As I turned back to look, a small goblinoid carrying a bulging bag filled with parcels broke off from the crowd and entered this passageway. He looked like a small green hairless monkey with no tail.
If he was heading where I hoped, we might have a lead!
Or at least something to follow.
The thrill of the hunt filled me.
“I think we have another parcel carrier! And it’s not a drone!”
I jogged over to the alleyway entrance and beckoned Kordeun to follow.
By the time I reached the alley’s irregular entrance, the goblin was at the back door to the King’s Crown. He knocked twice and waited patiently for a reply. Just as he was about to slide the package into the mail slot set beside the door, one of Orthanq’s slimy tentacles emerged into the alley and took the package while another appendage signed for its release.
More of Orthanq’s tentacles emerged and wavered in the air, gesticulating wildly. The goblin raised his hands defensively and backed up, trying to put distance between himself and Orthanq.
He was far too slow.
Orthanq lifted the goblin off the ground with several tentacles while jabbing the tip of another at him. Another tentacle emerged from the doorway and gestured toward where I stood leaning around the corner, trying not to look like a giant orc snooping so not clandestinely.
I thought to run forward to get closer, but before I could decide to get near enough to hear what Orthanq was saying to the goblin, the wiry little thing was running toward us, his face contorted in a mixture of fear and anger.
I backed around the corner and did my best to look inconspicuous.
“He’s coming!” I barked to Kordeun, whose view had been blocked by my bulky backside.
Instead of hurrying away, as I had expected, the small goblin stopped in place by the alley’s mouth and glared at me as soon as he had rounded the corner.
“I’
m not whoever or whatever it is ya’re after, ya sons o’ günda. Don’t even think about tryin’ ta folla me, neither.
“Ya won’t find me or nothin’ else o’ interest if ya try.
“And if ya try ta start sumpin’, it’ll be tha last thing ya do.”
He reached into a pocket of his shabby delivery vest and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my boss’s card. Ya can take up yer concerns with him.
“He may actually know sumpin’, but I don’t.
“Now, unlike ya lazy rüeka, I’ve got work ta do, so let me be at it!
“Get outta my way!”
The goblin spat at my feet as he threw the card at me, then ran off with his deliveries in tow.
He was a feisty little devil.
Considering I could smash him to a pulp with one hand, he was also brave.
I supposed that anyone who delivered potentially valuable goods by himself down alleyways inhabited by monsters had to be brave, stupid, skilled, or all three.
He was also probably better-defended than I had given him credit.
I carefully shut my mouth, having not realized it was hanging open as the goblin spoke to us. I was still surprised that he was brave enough, or angry enough, to dress me down. He knew my kind often stewed his kind in pots at family gatherings.
Goblins are, after all, quite tasty.
Orthanq must have expressed his displeasure to the goblin. If I guessed rightly, Orthanq had probably told the goblin that the packages he delivered might contain whatever it was that had been harming Orthanq’s guests.
No matter.
At least we had another lead to follow if Arcwhistle was unable to offer any further assistance.
As we walked homeward through the winding caves and byways of Undercity, I looked at the goblin’s card appreciatively, flipping it over and over in my hands.
This was a lead. Maybe not a real lead, but a lead nonetheless.
The card read:
“Undercity Parcel Service
Your Package First
Delphinious D’Rozaon
Parcelmaster”
The image of a blocky, granitic face hovered above the card. Small packages of various shapes and sizes, ranging from envelopes to assorted boxes, circled around his stony visage.
Grak_Private Instigator Page 9
