Nadi, stunned by the sudden turn of events, could only nod.
“I bet that I’m not wrong here. Right?” He clapped the boy on the shoulder. As the boy nodded in response, Rummy brought his left hand up from where it had rested briefly on the boy’s stomach to reveal a large piece of khurlap. “Ah, see! Looks like old Rummy is right one more time.”
The boy’s face lit up as Rummy handed him the khurlap. He stuffed it quickly into his mouth, to the delight of all (myself included, I admit). One satisfied belch and some raucous laughter later, Rummy returned to the dais.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he stood with us once more. “‘You’ve put a delicious pastry in the belly of that boy, Master Tooltinker, but what about my belly?’” He looked out over the crowd, which must have included two hundred orcs. “And what about our High Chieftain?” Rummy turned toward Gnurk, whose expression gave no indication of what he thought of Rummy’s performance (note to self: no poker games with Gnurk). “I fear, High Chieftain, that I have violated a rule of etiquette.”
He moved to stand before Gnurk, bowing slightly as he did. “By all rights, I should have offered you the first khurlap, for which I apologize. Please note, however, that this khurlap”—Rummy seized Gnurk’s hand, turned it over, and opened it up to reveal another piece of khurlap nestled in the High Chieftain’s palm—“is for you.”
A slow smile spread across Gnurk’s face. He looked at the khurlap, crammed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly. He swallowed, wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and nodded. Then, he began to clap—slowly at first, but then faster and more enthusiastically. The crowd followed their High Chieftain’s lead, resulting in a deafening ovation.
Rummy bowed again, with a flourish this time, and then pointed toward Borg, who held up a large basket. “My friend will make sure that you all can enjoy khurlap.”
The orcs swarmed around Borg, hopping up and down as they waited for a piece of pastry. After everyone had gotten theirs, the High Chieftain raised his hands for silence. “Master Tooltinker,” he intoned formally, “you have earned a boon by virtue of your fine performance. What will you ask of the Orcs of the Gloom Forest?”
“High Chieftain,” replied Rummy, mirroring Gnurk’s formal tone, “I ask that you release my friends: the elven warrior Nadinta Ghettinwood, the wizard Whiska Tailiesin, and the famed bard Heloise.”
Gnurk turned to regard me. “Just Heloise? No surname?”
“How many ‘Heloise the Bards’ do you know?”
He nodded sagely. “Touché.” He looked at Rummy and tapped his finger against the side of his cheek, considering the request. “Very well. I will grant the release of your companions, with two conditions.”
“What might those conditions be, High Chieftain?” Rummy could pull off polite without being obsequious, which made it actually seem genuine. I was going to have to learn that trick from him.
“First: Nadinta Ghettinwood, Whiska Tailiesin, and Heloise the Bard are hereby banned from the Gloom Forest and may never reenter upon pain of death.”
Rummy nodded. “That seems reasonable, given their lamentable actions. And second?”
“You will give us another performance after we have feasted.”
Rummy grinned. “That seems even more reasonable. Especially the feasting part.”
The High Chieftain clapped his hands and the orcs exploded into action, moving with a precision and unity I wouldn’t have thought possible. Within minutes, an impromptu feasting area had been erected in the square, plates and silverware were being laid out, and smells wafted through the air (the scents weren’t entirely unpleasant, though they smelled less like food than they did something with which you might clean a chamber pot.)
Nadi moved to stand next to me and shook her head as she watched the orcs scurry about. “What just happened?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea, but we haven’t been ripped in half and we’re apparently going to be fed. I’m going to call it a win.”
Whiska sidled in between us. “If I can find a few minutes alone, I can regain enough spell power to immolate at least a score of these green fecal remnants in one go, which should buy us time to escape.”
“Uh, Whiska?” I replied in my politest voice (which, I should note, isn’t really all that polite). “You do realize that they’re letting us go, right? After they had us dead to rights?”
“So?”
“So…turning them into orc flambé is probably a suboptimal tactical decision.” I looked at Nadi. “What do you think, boss?”
Nadi let out a long, slow breath. “Heloise is right. Stand down, Whiska—no attacking our…our hosts,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Seriously?” Whiska looked incredulous.
“First of all, even if we have the element of surprise, there’s no way we make it out of here alive, given the odds against us. Second, maybe we were, well…maybe we were wrong. About the orcs. I don’t know.”
“And maybe Heloise will go an entire day without talking about how hot she thinks her backside is…but I doubt it,” replied Whiska. “They’re orcs.”
“I’m not quite sure what to make of all of this,” I said, “but, come on—did you ever think orcs could be filled with child-like wonder?” I nodded to where Rummy was dancing a coin across his knuckles, much to the delight of not only the young orcs gathered around him, but more than one grown-up orc as well. “I don’t know about you, Whiska, but my primary goal is to get out of this situation alive—though, to be fair, that’s pretty much my motivation in any situation, though I don’t object if there is also chocolate, wine, and dwarven behinds involved as well.” I shrugged. “If making nice with Gnurk and his wide-eyed pack of prestidigitation enthusiasts is going to get me—and, yes, my indescribably hot backside—out of here in one piece, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If you want to go on a suicide run, leave me out of it.”
Whiska responded with something that sounded like “harrumph,” but I wasn’t entirely sure.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Oh, I said ‘harrumph’,” she replied.
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
The next couple of hours were among the most surreal of my life, and I’ve visited the barridium dens of Kangadoon. The orcs sang and clapped and danced, and at least some of the dishes they served were edible, even verging on tasty (I recommend the roast roggrat, but would suggest staying far away from the pureed plurant).
I found myself seated next to Gnurk, who presided over the proceedings with complete authority and a no-nonsense surliness that made him feel like everyone’s curmudgeonly uncle, albeit one who’s secretly a big softie.
At one point late in the meal, Gnurk turned to me, gestured to the happy orcs around us, and said, pointedly, “Exactly how you imagined it, no?”
I shook my head. “Look, I’m part elf, which means I inherited certain…viewpoints. But, I’m also a traveler and someone who approaches new situations with an open mind—well, generally speaking; that philosophy does not extend to Killorian orgies.”