Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story

by James Maxstadt

  The elder Wulfonson’s told me where to go. Like most orc compounds, the Wulfonsons took several buildings and modified them. Some families left them standing as individual buildings, almost like a small, self-contained village in the middle of the city. Others roofed everything over and turned the area into what felt like one huge house. The Wulfonsons did the former.

  Straight ahead was my destination. It was the largest and nicest building of the lot, and was where Oleg and Lara lived. It was also where Grandmother Wulfonson was being kept, supposedly at her ease, and tended lovingly by Oleg. Most of the rest of the Wulfonson clan didn’t buy it, but also didn’t dare to speak up. For one, they would have to contend with Lara if they did.

  The other reason was off to the right. That building was where the orcs that Oleg and Lara “adopted” into the family lived. There were a lot of them, all large, all used to fighting, and many of them suspected Unhoused from other clans. And all of them loyal to Oleg.

  But that early in the morning, everyone was still asleep, so it was a piece of cake to get across the open area between the buildings and over to the main house, as we were calling it.

  Or at least it was, until the challenge I was dreading rang out.

  “Hey!”

  I pretended not to realize that I was the one being hailed and kept walking.

  “Hey, you! You right there! Where do you think you’re going?”

  A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and spun me around. I turned, and staggered, deciding that it was time for my second act. This one would explain both my presence at such a weird hour and my speech impediment.

  “What?” I muttered. “What’th wrong?”

  I tripped over my own feet and stumbled into the large orc who was confronting me. At one time, I would have said he was massive for an orc, but that was before encountering Anton.

  “Get off!” He shoved me, and I reeled away and feel to the dirt.

  I climbed to my feet, brushing myself off and drawing up into a faux-dignified pose.

  “Exuth me!” I said.

  “Get to bed, ya drunk,” the orc growled. “And be glad I don’t report you!”

  He pointed to one of the other buildings, which I assumed was where the rank and file lived.

  I huffed, yanked the front of my shirt down and marched unsteadily away. When I looked back, he was walking away shaking his head and muttering to himself. I wasn’t worth his time to watch any further.

  I opened the door to the building he indicated and stepped in, but didn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, I kept it cracked and peered back out of it. Sure enough, the orc on duty stalked through the entrance to the compound and disappeared.

  Hah! Once again, brains over brawn.

  “Hey, you,” a voice said from behind me. At least this one wasn’t as loud.

  I tried not to sigh as I turned around, this time under my own power. What was it with this place? Why were so many up and about at an ungodly hour?

  “Who are you?” The orc asking the question was a small, stocky female, her black hair tied back in a bun. She also wore a long white apron, liberally spotted with stains, and stood staring defiantly up at me.

  “Ferguth,” I replied, making my voice as dull and uninteresting as I could.

  “Are you the one they hired to help me?”

  “Uhhh…” I really didn’t have to pretend much with that inspired response. Her question caught me totally unprepared.

  “Figures,” she muttered. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Let’s go.”

  She pushed past me and out the door, glancing back to make sure I was following. What could I do? If I refused to go, she’d kick up a fuss, waking even more orcs.

  A few minutes later and we were in hell.

  At least, that’s what I would call a place that was as hot as where I ended up. Huge ovens were blazing away, having been kept fired and fed with wood overnight by a crew of orcs. There were several already at work, chopping away at various food items and stirring huge bubbling pots.

  The one thing that made it not hell-like was the aromas. Anton wasn’t wrong. Orc food smelled delicious and it set my stomach to grumbling. It wasn’t lost on my guide.

  “No food for you!” she snarled. “At least not yet. We feed the muckety-mucks first, then the rest of the rabble, and then we get to eat. Now, get to work on those pots.”

  I’d never worked in a kitchen before, other than my own on the rare occasion that I wanted to try my hand at ruining my own dinner. It wasn’t something I had missed out on. The food may have smelled delicious, but it left sticky, burnt and baked on messes of all sorts, and soon I was up to my elbows in hot water, sweating and swearing as I scrubbed away.

  Worse, I had no idea how I was going to get out of there and into the main house to get to Grandmother Wulfonson. And time was ticking away. I didn’t even want to think about what was going to happen when the kitchen matron found a devilishly handsome human male washing the pots!

  The sweat wasn’t just from the hot water.

  “Take this to the main house,” I heard the matron say. I glanced over and saw a harried orc take a covered tray from her.

  I pulled my hands from the water and started walking behind the delivery orc.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the matron called.

  In answer, I turned and grimaced, and did a little dance, shifting from foot to foot. The meaning of that was pretty universal.

  “Hurry up,” she said, and turned back to her other minions, ready to lash out at the slightest hint of some poor sod over-salting a dish. Very few are hard-assed enough to refuse someone the time to use the facilities.

  I followed the other orc out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Interestingly, he wasn’t heading for the outside, but instead took a passage that made a sharp turn to the right a little way ahead.

  Now, there were two ways that I could play this. One, I could hit him on the head, take the tray and go deliver it myself. Messy, and noisy.

  Or, I could try to bribe him with the few rubles in my pocket, which was about the end of my cash. This might be a worthy use of it.

  “Exuth me,” I said, as I caught up to him. “Are you taking that to Oleg?”

  “Who wants to know?” the orc said.

  “I do. Lithen. I have a propothal. Why don’t I take it for you, and you take a break?”

  “Why?” Suspicion crept into his voice.

  “I’m trying to get notithed? You know? Make my way up the ladder?”

  “You want to take this over?”

  “Yeah, that’th the idea.”

  “Here.” He thrust the tray into my hands. “It’s all yours.”

  He scampered off without another word, and I didn’t even have to give him any of my hard-earned money.

  Something about that felt off, but I took the tray and continued the way he had been going. The passage ended at a door that opened to an alleyway, and another door leading into the main house directly across. There was even a low roof connecting the two, presumably to keep the food deliveries dry in the event of rain.

  I stepped across the alley and tried the door. It was unlocked and I pushed it open, balancing the tray on my hip, and with no further problem, I was in the main house! Now, all I needed to do was…

  “Hey, you.”

  I was beginning to think that was the standard greeting in the Wulfonson compound. I looked up to see two large orcs seated at a table in the room I entered. They had a deck of cards and I had obviously interrupted their game.

  “You know the rules,” one of them said. “Bring that over here.”

  I certainly didn’t know the rules, but thanks to his clear directions, I did now. I took the tray over and set it on the table, ready to be patted down. But instead, the orc lifted the cover on the dish, revealing a plate piled high with a variety of mouth-watering meats. The aroma coming off the plate set off my stomach noises again, and the orc laughed at me.

  “Yeah, it mu
st be tough,” he said, his voice not unsympathetic. “I can’t imagine working around this all day and not being allowed to touch it. It’s bad enough like this.”

  While he talked the other orc got up and left the room. He came back a moment later with a monstrous lizard, about four feet long, with large, muscular legs and a huge, thick tail. The lizard came forward, its forked tongue flicking out at the dish on the table. After a moment, it turned its head away and laid down on the floor.

  “Alright,” the first orc said, “it’s clean. You can go ahead.”

  He took his seat again, not bothering to recover the plate. I did that, picked up the tray and headed for the door leading from the room. But after a couple of steps, the lizard sprang up and rushed toward me.

  “Whoa!” I yelped, as it stuck its head out and began flicking its tongue against my pants.

  “Relax,” the orc holding the lizard’s leash said. “You probably spilled something on your pants. Rex here is smelling that, that’s all.”

  “Oh. Heh. Yeah, you’re right. I did thpill.”

  But Rex kept up the act until his handler got tired of it and pulled him away. The lizard went but kept turning his head back toward me and flicking his tongue out.

  “You must have really made a mess of yourself,” the first orc chuckled. “No wonder you work in the kitchen.”

  He reached over and peeked at the cards his companion left face down on the table and grimaced. Glancing toward the door where the other had disappeared, he quickly switched his cards with a few from the deck, then saw me watching.

  “Got a problem? No? Then get, before you do.”

  I got while the getting was good.

  I had no idea where in the house I was, or where I was going. Who was the tray supposed to go to? My guess was Grandmother Wulfonson, since she wasn’t seen outside of there anymore. Someone must be bringing her meals to her. With any luck, that was me.

  But, of course, my luck wasn’t that type. I walked along the corridor and saw the front door of the place. Now I had my bearings. There were stairs off to the right of the main foyer, which led up to the second floor. According to Father Wulfonson, Grandmother lived in a suite of rooms up there. Easy enough.

  I walked across the foyer and headed up the stairs.

  I was about halfway up when a low voice said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  At least it wasn’t “Hey, you.”

  I turned and almost swallowed my tongue. Lara, the She-Demon, was standing in the foyer looking directly at me. There was no-one else around, so there was no way to pretend that I didn’t realize she was talking to me.

  “Well?” she said. “I asked you a question.”

  I could see what Anton meant about her. Everything about her radiated a desire to attack. The way she held herself like a coiled spring, the heat in her eyes, even the way she kept her arms held out slightly from her body, ready to rain blows on anyone foolish enough to be near.

  In an orc body or in my own, I wanted no part of Lara.

  I hefted the tray and nodded up the stairs. I didn’t trust my voice, so act three was to pretend to be mute. It was a lame attempt, but you worked with what you had.

  “The food doesn’t go up there, dolt. No one goes up there but Oleg. You should know that.”

  I looked down at the tray and then back at her, trying to appear confused. I held the tray out toward her.

  “Yes, it’s mine. Bring it down here.”

  I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. Up there, on the stairs, I was out of her reach. Although with what I had seen of her speed, that wasn’t much. Down there, though…

  I slowly walked down the stairs, trying not to appear frightened, but not doing a very good job of hiding it. Lara smiled. It figured that she liked to scare people.

  “Through there,” she said, indicating a door that led to yet another room with a jut of her chin.

  I nodded, tried to smile at her and went the way she told me to. Then I yelped again as she hit me in the back of the head.

  “Oh, so you can make noise? Good to know. Cross me again, and we’ll find out how much.”

  I hunched my shoulders and entered the room. It was a room that any young woman, or just about any race, would be comfortable in. Light, airy colors dominated the space, and there were fresh flowers in vases placed about. The disparity between the room and Lara’s temperament stopped me in my tracks, earning me a shove.

  I put the tray down on a table covered by a delicate, lace tablecloth and turned to leave the room, keeping my eyes averted. Lara moved past me, ignoring me now that her breakfast was delivered. She sat at the table, took the cover off the tray and inhaled the smells.

  “Ahh…” she sighed. “Delightful.”

  I took that as my cue to leave, but as I reached the door she said, “Don’t forget this.” The tray cover bounced off the back of my head, sending me stumbling into the door frame. “Pick it up, dolt!” she yelled.

  I grabbed the lid, backed out of the room, and shut the door. I wasn’t sure if that was protocol or not, but Lara was already tucking into her meal, so I took the chance. As soon as it was gently closed and I heard the latch click, I turned, and ran up the stairs as fast and quietly as I could.

  This time, I made it.

  The second floor was dark, with rich, wood paneling lining the walls. There was only one door, all the way at the end, made from heavy, dark wood. That must be the door to Grandmother Wulfonson’s rooms.

  Clever, really. Lara was posted right at the bottom, so anyone dumb enough, like me for instance, who tried to get up there would have to go by her first. Anyone under suspicion would have no chance, and getting back out was going to be a problem. My only chance was to get in, convince the old orc, and get out again while Lara was still eating.

  I hurried to the end of the hall and put my ear against the door. I couldn’t hear a thing on the other side, even with my new, enhanced hearing. That didn’t mean much. It was a big door. It might have been too thick to hear through, even with orc ears.

  I tried the knob and the door swung open. This was the tricky part. I couldn’t knock, or there was a good chance that Lara would hear. But letting myself into Grandmother’s rooms unannounced didn’t seem like a good choice either. The only thing I could do was pull the medallion that Mother Wulfonson gave me from my pocket, and hope that the sight of it stopped Grandmother from yelling.

  I slipped inside and shut the door quietly behind me. The room I was in was a grand sitting room, fit for the hob-knobs on Silvertree Road. Rich fabrics, an opulent fireplace and shelves of books. Two doors led from the room, one on each side of the mantle.

  I took the one on the right, leading to a bedroom. Nothing there.

  The one on the left led to a short hallway, which opened to a more informal sitting room. I knew that’s what it was because there were orcs sitting in it. Two of them to be precise. One of them was an old, wizened female, her steel gray hair tied into a tight bun, but her eyes sharp as they took me in.

  The other, was Oleg. I recognized him immediately from running into him outside the sculpture studio. For a moment, I almost panicked, but then remembered that I looked remarkably different from when he last saw me. Not that he probably even remembered the encounter.

  “What are you doing in…?” he started, climbing quickly to his feet.

  I cut him off with the lid from Lara’s breakfast tray. Without even thinking about it, I swung hard, holding it by the edge and slammed it square into Oleg’s face. When I pulled it back he was staring at me, his eyes wide open and little noises coming from his mouth.

  I pulled back and hit him again, and this time, he went down in a heap.

  I froze, listening for sounds of Lara coming up the stairs and watching Grandmother Wulfonson. The old orc simply sat in her chair, her eyes on mine. For a moment, I swore I could see amusement in them, before she blinked and her gaze turned icy.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Anton had wa
rned me that she was a sharp old bird. I wasn’t of her house, and obviously wasn’t one of Oleg’s hired muscle. Therefore, I must be there for some other reason.

  “Your grandson sent me,” I said. “And your son and his wife. I’m here to get you out of here.”

  “Really? And who said that I wanted to go?”

  That took me aback. The idea never occurred to me, or to the other Wulfonsons, that she wouldn’t want to go, or that she was in on what was going on around here.

  “Umm…we thought that…you know, with Oleg and Lara, and all….”

  She started to cackle. “Oh, stop stammering. You young people, always so sure of yourself. Now, how do I know you are who you say you are?”

  I was confused. Was she saying that she did want to go, or saying that she didn’t? Was she unsure of my intentions, or did she simply not care? In the end, I dumbly held out the medallion and showed it to her.

  She took it in her wrinkled hands. A small smile creased her face. “I thought it was gone forever,” she said. “But I ask again, who are you?”

  “My name is Duke. Duke Grandfather.”

  She frowned as if she recognized the name, but ended up saying, “That’s not an orc name. It sounds suspiciously human if you ask me, no matter how ridiculous. What’s going on here?”

  “I am human, and if we don’t get out of here quickly, you’re going to see it for yourself and then we’ll be in real trouble. Now, will you come with me? I can take you to your family and you can decide what to do from there.”

  She climbed slowly to her feet. “Alright, then, Mr. Grandfather. Let’s go.”

  When she made up her mind, she made it up quickly.

  Our only chance was going to be to try to sneak by Lara, if she was still in her room at the bottom of the stairs. But once outside, anyone seeing Grandmother would raise the alarm.

  I bent down and stripped off Oleg’s shirt and vest.

  “Here,” I said, passing them to her. “Put these on.”

  “Certainly not! Those are men’s clothes!”

  “We need to make sure someone doesn’t recognize you right away. It’s only until we’re out of here. Please! We need to hurry!”