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Warmaster Jack

DARZ

By Onyx Tao

This text is available under the Creative Commons Noncommercial Attribution Sharealike License.

All Other Rights Reserved

Copyright 2011 by Onyx Tao

Six weeks after Darz appeared at our gates, dressed in zebraskin with a tigerskin cloak, and the death of eight warriors and two warlords stupid enough to challenge him, Darz was still bumping heads with Urdrus. They'd had two (to my knowledge) inconclusive battles of magic. I'd let them both know that I really didn't care what they did to each other, but they'd have to keep it between themselves. If either one pulled my warlords into their disagreement, I said, I would then have a reason for supporting the other. Urdrus looked surprised, and Darz thought I'd betrayed him, but I just pointed out that Urdrus was here first, he'd gotten along with me, even if he hadn't given me any reasons to support him now.

What I wanted was both of them. Darz's arrival and the magic he brought with him solved my food problems, and would give me invaluable assistance with the Lodges. The real problem with orcs is always the same: getting them all pointed in the same direction at the same time. Do that, and you win. Fail, and winning becomes a lot harder. Lining them all up ... hard. Very hard. The traditional orcish solution is a brute force solution. The greatest orc warmaster, or at least the one acknowledged by ever was also the most personally powerful and systematically brutal leader ever. Although I certainly enjoy a touch of brutality every now and then, on that scale it's just impractical. I have serious doubts if even he really did it that way.

I needed a better solution, and I'd invented one. Darz would make it easier, much, much easier.

Urdrus was a talented sorcerer whose specialty was combat magic (unsurprisingly). He was good, very good, with them - good enough to intimidate Darz (if only privately). Having someone on your side hurling fireballs and lightning at your foes is just good for general morale, and I'd spent a fair amount of time making sure he knew I appreciated his efforts. If Urdrus was determined to get in my way, then he had to go. But if he weren't ... I could make good use of him, too.

I'd asked Darz not to kill Urdrus if he could avoid it, that Urdrus, if we could win him over - and I thougth I could - would be useful. As an unexpected bonus, the simmering conflict between Darz and Urdrus also served to force the other warlords to back me - since I was the only one who could keep both of them in check. All told, it allowed me a nice breather to consolidate my authority. I could let Darz try (and, I had no doubt, fail) to start a monster-cult, although his binding earth elementals to help him excavate a temple in the cliff impressed everyone - even me.

The hardest part was the tremendous amount of everything that had to be done, and the many, many changes I needed to make. Any single thing was straightforward, and I could push any one change through without much resentment, but I was asking - telling! - these orcs to make all of these changes, all at once. It was certain to stir up resentment, and it did. I suppose I lost a number of warriors I wouldn't have if I'd been able to do things more slowly, but I had a schedule in mind. An aggressive schedule, and it meant everything needed to be in place. Every day that things weren't the way I wanted them was a step backwards.

Most critical was training - I wanted to train the younger warriors and would-be warriors how to fight effectively, but more important than that, I wanted to train them to obey me. Without question, without thought, I wanted them to follow wherever I led. Those who listened, those who learned, would be ten times more dangerous than those who didn't. Anyone can swing a sharp pointy object wildly. Using it effectively takes training. I didn't teach anything fancy, for several reasons. The elaborate fencing systems and methodologies can take years to learn properly, and perhaps more importantly, I don't know them. I know the basics, and a number of maneuvers, and that's what I taught. At some point I would need to acquire a proper armsmaster, but that would have to come later. At some point, I'd have to turn the warriors I was training into soldiers. That is, someone else - that putative armsmaster, perhaps. I had no more idea of how to train a soldier than I did of how to fly.

And day by day, I auditioned the warriors working with me for an assistant. I didn't tell them that, of course, I just ordered one to stand up, come here, and instead of training, that orc served as my 'assistant-for-the-day'. No special privileges, if anything, I was harsher on him than the rest of the trainees. The trainees got food at break; he got water: he was responsible for making sure all of them got water, among the many other things I had him scurrying to do. Getting practice weapons, putting them away, serving as my training dummy - I had them practicing on each other. Nothing teaches how to get out of a weapon's way like bruises.

Several of the younglings caught my eye. Braak, Heam, and Kret, all of them seemed like they'd serve me well, so I didn't pick them the first week. I wanted to watch them in training, give all of the orcs time to learn just what I expected, and just what happened when they failed to meet my expectations. It varied; they needed to learn just what I was like as a disciplinarian. What I wanted to be was brutal - but fair. I wanted them to feel like they were in control of what happened. I wanted them determined to succeed, not terrified to fail. It's a fine line, and I'm sure I fucked it up from time to time, but as they say, omelets and eggs. I wasn't too worried. I washed Kret out after a couple of days, he was just too ornery. His intelligence had attracted me, but it came with far too much self-assurance. I wanted a pleaser; someone sufficiently insecure that they could be easily dominated.

Either Braak or Heam would do, I decided, and I settled on Heam after I noticed his eye wandering over the nearly naked fighting orcs. I certainly enjoyed them, too, but I've learned not to be so obviously inobvious about it. As my assistant, I ran him hard, and I although I was careful not to show it, I was pleased. The harder I pushed him the harder he worked to get everything I wanted done. He was perfect.

Or rather, he would be perfect, after I was done with him.

Near the morning after I dismissed all the trainees, I held Heam behind to speak with him. "You didn't do too badly," I said. "A little better than the others."

"Thank you, Warmaster!" I wondered how that enthusiasm would hold up, given what I was planning. Just thinking about it made me harden; all I'd had were sows since I'd arrived.

"I'm keeping you, for a while," I continued. "You'll come with me."

There was a soft puff of air from Heam that might have been the start of a 'But', although what finally came out was, "Yes, Warmaster." He said it to my back, though, as I was already moving back to my quarters. The sound of him hurrying after me was, all in all, gratifying. My only thought was to wonder just how fast I should move on him. Done right, it would feel so good ...

I'd just keep him off balance for now. Dinner was waiting in my room, and a sow. I'd told Baxs to have a sow waiting for me, and this day, she'd sent Gretys. She was a younger orc, no litters yet, and despite her earlier reluctance, she'd taken to fucking with me with great enthusiasm. I wasn't surprised. Like anything else, fucking improves with practice and a good teacher, and Baron had been both of those. He had not neglected my education with females, even though they weren't my truly interest any more than they were his. She was waiting on the worn cloth stuffed with moldering grass that passed for a bed. I ate, and then sent Gretys for a second plate. I nibbled a bit more, more for show than anything else, and then gave it to Heam. "If you're hungry," I said, sounding bored, and stripped out of my clothes. I tossed them onto my desk. "Fold them," was the last thing I said to him.

I didn't look at him again, although I could feel him looking at me. Although I sometimes wonder what others see when they look at me, I wasn't wondering then. I was - am - bigger than Heam, stronger than Heam, and my cock is big, even for a boar. From this angle, he couldn't see the scars from the piercings - I'd removed them a long time ago. The sows had to notice, but they hadn't asked, and I had no intention of explaining.

Maybe I'd have the pleasure of showing Heam, I thought, and that vision made me hard enough to deal with Gretys. Fucking is another place where my human side shows; a full-blooded boar can climax in a few moments. I can take several minutes to an hour. Knowing Heam was there, watching me, helped a lot more than I'd expected. I had to concentrate on making sure I pleasured Gretys properly. Manipulated right, a sow can climax over and over and over again. Baron had told me that one could actually train a sow to climax like that - and once again, he was right. He'd also told me that if I kept her coming for long enough, it would kill her. I'd had trouble believing that then, and even now, I wasn't sure if I actually believed it. I didn't want to risk it, though, so I never kept fucking a sow beyond my own climax.

It was just as important to pretend that I didn't really care if she enjoyed the rut or not, that all I cared about was my own satisfaction. She, as I'd taught all my sows, cleaned me with her tongue as a gesture of thanks and respect. Or at least that's what I'd told them it was.

Heam ... I couldn't believe he'd never seen fucking before, but he was watching, almost paralyzed. "Well?" I said, pulling a blanket over me.

"Nothing, Warmaster."

"You can sleep ..." I paused, as if I had to consider it. "There. By the desk." I tossed him a blanket. No reason to scare him too much. I thought about telling him I'd probably kill him in the evening, but he wouldn't get the joke and I didn't want to explain it, and I certainly didn't want him to take me seriously, the way I'd taken Baron. I'm still not sure how he knew, that night ... for myself, I muttered the protective charm I'd set every night, to know if something entered to disturb my rest, and I made sure Heam knew I slept armed.

I doubted he'd do anything, and as it turned out, he didn't.

I woke before Heam did, but a well-placed kick remedied that soon enough. By the time I was dressed, Baxs had brought us breakfast; two plates, one for me, one for Heam. I nodded; I wasn't sure if I wanted Heam to get too comfortable, though. "Heam, this is Baxs," I said, and he flushed with embarassment. He knew who she was, and being introduced to a sow - well, that was an insult. He'd have to get over it. "Baxs is in charge of this house." And you will obey her, I didn't say. That would have been too much of an insult - and too much explicit authority to cede to Baxs. But he would understand it, and Baxs would understand it.

"Yes, Warmaster."

I smiled. "Good, I thought you were quick," I said. A little praise. Ease him into it. "Baxs keeps my house running so I don't have to. I have other things to do, and right now, you're going to be learning just what they are. Come on."

And that started another night. By dawn, Heam was exhausted. Of course, he'd done all the running to and fro, and that meant I'd done less than I usually do. And if I'd sent him on more errands and farther and faster than was strictly needed - well, he was young, and had the energy to sustain him. I wanted him tired; too tired to fight me, even if he wanted to. I didn't think he'd want to, but then ... why take chances?

I ate quickly, and passed the remainder to Heam. Gretys was on the sad excuse of a bed, looking uncertain, and I didn't know why. I hadn't told Baxs what I'd planned ... I hadn't even asked for Gretys again. I mean, a sow is a sow is a sow, as long as she provided one that wasn't heavy I didn't really care. The point, after all, is to produce litters, so fucking a heavy sow is a waste of time. And if I could get them all heavy or nursing, then I wouldn't have to bother with them at all. I couldn't help it; I smiled briefly at the thought. Or better yet ... another idea occurred to me. It had potential.

"Heam," I said.

"Warmaster?"

"Have you been with a sow?"

The young orc flushed again, and shook his head. Cute, he was cute.

"Didn't think so," I said, but I didn't put any particular approval or disapproval into the words. "Lay back," I told Gretys, and I spent the next hour showing Heam just how a sow's body worked. How to tell if she was aroused, and how to arouse her if she wasn't. The sensitive parts, her nipples, lips, and the inner and outer lips of her cunt, as well as the sensitive nub of flesh within. And the less secret places, the forearms, arms, legs, face, and all the places. I'm not sure he was listening to me, actually, although I'm sure she was, especially when I got to the way to keep a sow in a continuous climax.

"Just don't do that indefinitely," I said. "No longer than a quarter-candle, at most."

"Why ..." asked Heam, finally.

"Supposedly, if you do it too long, the sow dies," I said, and noted Gretys' start out of the corner of my eye.

"Really?"

I shrugged. "Never tried it. I don't know." I turned back to Gretys. "So ... your turn, Heam. Let's see what you've learned. Except for the continual climax thing; save that for your own sows."

"You want me ..."

"Fuck her. Would I spend all this time explaining how to do it otherwise?"

"No ..." said Heam uncertainly, and he moved toward her. Soft, I noted, and not looking like he wanted to do it. Maybe he didn't? That would be fine with me, I could think of quite a number of things involving Heam, my bed, and sex that didn't involve Gretys at all.

"Just don't hurt her," I said. Heam stopped, as if I'd struck him.

"But ..."

"Nobody lays a finger on my sows without my permission, Heam," I said, and I let all the humor drop out of my voice. "Whatever you think I might do to you for that, it would be much, much worse."

If he'd wanted to fuck her, the right response would have been oh, she's going to enjoy this, or something along those lines. "Wha ... what would do?" was right out.

"What would I do ..." I said, and my pretend pause for thought became real after a moment. I still had that object lesson to unveil, and he should be just about where I wanted him by now. I hadn't wanted to show him off prematurely, but displaying him now, to Heam and Gretys - well, Gretys, at least - would guarantee that his fate would be whispered throughout the tribe in short order. I'm not sure if Heam would gossip or not. Gretys would be good enough, though, and at some point a boar would hear from one of his sows just what had happened. And maybe I could find some way to get back with just Heam in tow.

"I'd come up with something ..." I said, and smiled. "Come with me, both of you." Just like that, no more breeder sex for Heam. The more I thought about that as we went down the corridor towards the sowery section, the more I liked it. Sure, I can fuck sows, but that doesn't really mean I want to watch someone else do it.

He'd had some name before he attacked me, but I just called him Toy. He'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong action, not that attacking me is ever a smart move. I'd just killed two of his friends out of hand, right when I was claiming leadership, and I'd let him live as an example of just how bad life could get for anyone thinking about challenging me. I'd left him outside, exposed to full sunlight, while a drying leather ligature constricted around his balls, and another one crushed them. He'd been practically catatonic when I'd brought him back into the caves. I'd given him to my sows, and ordered that he drink the piss of the pregnant sows. He'd objected, but after I smashed his right hand and wrist with a hammer, he stopped fighting the sows. After he bit Baxs, I used the same hammer to snap his teeth out of his jaw.

Given all that, I wasn't really surprised when I walked into the little alcove, and he reacted by cowering away from me. He was curled up on a thing that some very generous person might call a mat. A manacle held his leg to the wall. Hanging by a thong on the wall was the hammer I'd used on him, just as a reminder. I glanced at it, and then back to him. I'd explained that he wasn't expected to talk. He could nod, or shake his head. That was as much as I wanted from him.

That wasn't entirely true, but it was all he'd needed to know.

"I thought I'd come look in on you," I said, advancing toward him. "Still alive, I see." I paused. "Looks like you're in some pain." He ought to be in a great deal of pain. I reached out, and Toy cringed away again. "Don't do that," I said. I laid a hand on his chest. He was hot, and the flesh was soft and puffy, just like I'd expected. "It hurts, a little, right?"

He nodded.

"Then today is your lucky day, Toy, because I'm going to make it better." I smiled, and pulled the blanket off him. He was - had been - lean, and now he was closer to gaunt. I frowned at that; I'd instructed that he got enough food and obviously he hadn't been fed properly. "Gretys, run and get Baxs," I said. "Now!"

Across his chest, and running down in two invisible to the now-limp and shrunken scrap of flesh that had been his cock, were six swollen teats, three pairs. Generally only a pregnant sow developed the lower four teats. You could feel them, hell, I had the lower two, but they were invisible to the eye, barely detectable unless I felt for them. On Toy, they were swollen and puffy, just the like his chest and belly. I reached out, flicked one, and Toy grimaced. "Hurt?"

He nodded cautiously.

"Yes," I said. "Are they producing milk?"

He shook his head. Extremely painful, Baron had said. It was something I'm happy I avoided. Unlike Toy. But I wanted to deal with Baxs first.

She arrived in a couple of minutes, hurrying ahead of Grantrys. "Warmaster?" She looked worried, which was good.

I let some anger into my voice. "I said to fucking feed him, Baxs. Does he look well-fed to you?"

"No. I'm ... I'll take care of it, Warmaster," she promised.

"Who was supposed to be feeding him? You?"

She looked down. "Gretys and Nanka, Warmaster. You needn't ..."

"Quiet." I looked at Gretys, who was looking a lot more nervous. "Punish both of them. And consider how you're going to apologize for letting this happen, Baxs."

She grimaced, unhappy, but she must have understood why I said that."Yes, Warmaster."

"Nanka ... is close to whelping," I said. "She's confined to the sowery. Gretys ... her, too. At least until Nanka whelps." I paused. "And you're supposed to be keeping an eye on this, Baxs. I thought we had an agreement; you run the house, and in return ... I let you run the house. Have I interfered with you?"

"No, Warmaster."

"Are any of the sows giving you trouble?"

"Nothing I can't deal with."

"Very well. You can deal with Gretys and Nanka. But the next sow who steps out of line ... you will deliver her to me, and I'll take care of her."

She stared at me, puzzled, and then she understood. "You needn't bother ..."

"I'm bothering," I said.

"Yes, Warmaster," she said. "It will be as you say." She glanced over at Toy. "Is there something you needed him for?"

"This," I said, flicking a finger across one of the swollen teats. It produced a flinch, but nothing else. "Remind you of anything?"

"A nursing sow?" Baxs said.

"Only no milk," I said, and I think at this point Toy figured out what was happening. He probably already knew, he just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but he just couldn't lie to himself any more. Reality has a way of breaking in on us, and it may feel like being kicked when we're helpless, it's really just sudden freedom from delusion. Toy didn't say anything - he'd learned that much already, but the sudden tension and how it vanished said something about that realization.

I reached forward, and lowered him down onto the mattress - he was looking up at me helplessly, paralyzed as much by the memories of what I'd already done to him as anything I'd done, and didn't resist until I'd almost gotten him down. I just smiled, and said, "Baxs, hand me the hammer." Toy dropped the rest of the way almost instantly. "On second thought, just hold it for me." The look of fear in his eyes was wonderful, and I took a breath. "I've never gotten to try this before." I reached down to the lowest left teat, and rolled it slightly. "It's blocked," I said. "Sometimes happens to sows, much more often in boars." I took a modified pair of pliers out of my pocket; the head had been modified to leave a slight gap even after the leather wrapping. It wouldn't do to inflict serious damage on my new cow.

I didn't bother pointing out this was going to hurt; he knew it. And it did; he howled just as loudly as when I'd smashed his hand. I tightened them just a bit more, and released - pastel green, blood and milk. "Five more to go," I said. "Hold still. Unless I need the hammer."

Amazingly, Toy did. I had a good idea just how much what I was doing hurt, and I'm not sure I would held still. Of course, I wouldn't be in this position to begin with. I made sure to test the manacle holding him to the wall, surreptitiously. At some point he'd misbehave again, and I'd use the opportunity to blind him. At that point, I wouldn't really need to worry.

When I got back to the cave that served as my bedroom, study, and office, I was aching with lust. I just wanted to fuck something. I would have been happy enough to have Gretys there, but I had something much, much better. Heam followed me in, looking a little disturbed. I shucked my clothes tossed them onto the desk again, and this time, Heam knew enough to fold them. He was very obviously trying not to look at my stiff length, which must have been difficult. There was a long glistening string from the tip all the way down to the floor, and I'm sure there was a corresponding wet spot on my trousers. I sat down on the bed, and leaned back, watching him draw out the process of putting my clothes away, but that couldn't take him long, and didn't.

"Wah ... Warmaster?"

"Take them off," I said.

"Take ..."

"All of them. Now."

Almost in a trance, he obeyed. He wasn't wearing much, just an ill-fitting shirt, equally poor shorts and worn leather sandals - I made a mental note to get him some better clothing - but he was as sweet as I remembered from practice. Firm, not quite a warrior's muscles, not yet, not enough weaponswork, but he'd get there. His skin was a creamy gray-green. A ragged scar ran across and up his belly, left to right, and I wondered what had cut him. He was smooth, which surprised me a little, I'd thought he had more hair, lovely black strands against the murky green porcelain of his body. I couldn't tell you how many times I've heard the epithet greenskin, but I've never understood it. It's a beautiful color; I like the pureblood color more than I like the darker half-orc shadings, it makes me want it. Just like I wanted Heam at the point. I wanted him so much ...

And I would have him. I would just have to remember to not hurt him; Heam, unlike most of my sex partners, wasn't disposable. At least, I didn't intend to dispose of him. Remember. No blood, no broken bones ...

Right. "Look at me, Heam. I've seen you watching me."

"No ..."

"Don't deny it. I don't like being called a liar," I said. "Besides you're looking at me right now, aren't you?"

He shook his head, and glanced back towards the corridor.

"Come. Here." I was thinking I'd have to go get him, but he walked over, almost zombie like. Maybe I am that scary. Or maybe he was thinking how easily he could end up like Toy ... locked in a room, neutered, dripping milk. That thought made me smile, a soft, easy grin, that Heam seamed to find reassuring - and seeing that set Heam at ease just made me smile more. I wouldn't really do that to him, but ... well, I probably wouldn't do that. He'd have to really piss me off.

I reached down, gave my shaft a hard stroke out, causing clear liquid to gather in a pearl at the head of my cock. I wrapped the strand and pearl around a finger, and very softly smeared Heam's lips with it. He jerked back, and I stood up, quickly, pulled him to me, and kissed him, tasting the soft salty wet as my tongue reached into him. He trembled; whether out of fear or desire or some other emotion I couldn't tell.

But that hardly mattered; I had my hands on him, and I could make him feel good, pushing my palms against the thick muscle of his back even as I pulled him to me, my tongue touching his, running along his teeth, and I could feel his cock, hard as mine, and I gave it an exploratory tug. That was all it took to make up his mind, and he relaxed. Fight, flight, or submit, and he'd submitted.

I drew my head back just far enough to whisper, "Good. I like an orc who's not afraid to admit what he wants. I hate cowards." I locked him back into the embrace, considered just what I wanted to dom how much foreplay I wanted to bother with when what I wanted to do was throw him down and fuck him. I didn't really think he'd been fucked before, though, and I needed him to enjoy the experience.

Enjoy it more than he disliked, at least.

With one hand across the firm rounded strength of his ass, I lifted him up, so that I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and ... yes, a warmth and wetness. He was as aroused as I needed; as long as I kept him so, he'd almost certainly be pliant. Yes.

"This will hurt a little," I said, pulling back from the kiss. He looked confused - and wasn't that just delightful, too, but understanding came quickly as I set him down on the bed, and pulled his legs up. "A little," I whispered. "Are you afraid of that?"

The orc that would admit to being afraid is already dead, so I wasn't worried about his answer. The hastily and seemingly sincere 'No!' was all I needed.

"I knew you wouldn't be," I said. "I want you, Heam," and with that, I set the tip of my cock to his hole, and bent over him, sealing his mouth with mine. I wanted to be in him, take him, make him mine, and it was right that it should hurt, that my pleasure come from his pain, and only then his pleasure could start. His gasp was brief as I pushed into him. Oh, I'd missed the feel of a boar under me, the strength, a male who could take the full pounding force of sex, orc or human, and Heam could withstand me the way a sow could not.

I trembled with lust as I waited for him to relax, to start feeling the inevitable pleasure of submission. It would grow until he couldn't live without me. I kissed him harder, my tongue forcing its way into him. I pulled him to me, waiting impatiently for the moment ... It came, I could feel his body accept the violation, and I began moving slowly, out and in. It would help him adjust, help him be ready, although it felt like torture to me. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed having a boar. Only twice had even a human male come close to feeling this good. But I managed to remember that Heam wasn't disposable, and I spent a few minutes figuring out how to move to make him feel good. It wasn't hard; and soon his pleasure was at least as great as mine. Perhaps greater, as I climax with human slowness and need for recovery, where Heam is pure orc. I couldn't quite put him into the state of a continual climax that I could manage with a sow, but he reached a juttering climax five times before I reached mine, pumping out gout after gout of salty orc seed between our bodies to mix with our sweat. His eyes were glazed when I finally pulled out of him. I pulled his head up to the glistening wetness on my stomach; he needed no words to know what I expected. His tongue was rough against my skin as he slowly and methodically worked his way down to my cock, but he didn't falter, licking me clean, and going lower, bathing my balls, the crease of my legs, into the crevice. I sighed; it felt so good.

When he was done, he looked up at me, with a look of puzzlement. "That was right," I said, and he nodded. He started to pull himself off the bed to take a place on the floor. "No," I told him, pulling him back. "You'll sleep here." I patted him; he still had that glazed post-sex look. I suppose I'd looked like after my first night with Baron. I got up, poured myself a glass of wine, and took a gulp. I'd replaced the sour wine I'd shared with Baxs; I'd found something closer to brandy in the old chieftain's study, well-hidden. It was strong, and that's what I wanted.

"Wine ..." I said. "I think you should have a drink." I poured him one, and finished mine while I watched him drink his, slowly coming out of ... Baron called it a post-coital trance, but I didn't like that term. When sex is good, it's beyond anything, and it sends you, I don't know, into yourself, or out of yourself, or ... no, it makes you so big you don't fit anymore, and it takes a while to fit, whatever that is, again. And what we'd just done was, I thought, maybe even better for Heam than it was for me, and for me, it had been damn good.

I took the empty cup, gave him a slap on his chest, and set it with mine on the shelf. I dropped back into the bed, put an arm around him. He was mine, now, and I wanted him to realize it. More, I wanted him to accept it, and between the sex and the alcohol and the love philtre, he should be just about ready.

"Heam," I said, very quietly. I pitched my voice to carry less than a foot.

"Warmaster?"

"You were marvellous, Heam," I said. "In case you were wondering."

"I ... no. Thanks, I ..." I could hear the doubt in his voice. After all, this was something the warriors joke about. Who bottoms for who, who plays the sow during the day. The real answer was, quite a few, but it simply wasn't something anyone discussed.

"You're wondering just what sort of boar would enjoy that," I said.

"Yeah," came the answer.

"The way you did," I said.

"Yeah."

"The kind I need," I said. "The kind of boar I need, Heam."

"You ..."

"Need. I have plans, Heam. We're small; but that's going to change," I rubbed his belly. "I need boars I can trust." Which was strictly speaking true; I'd love to have some boars I could trust. I wouldn't trust them, but it would be great if I could. "You're worried about getting sows of your own?"

"Some," Heam admitted.

"You'll share mine. I'll be getting more, a lot more," I said. "It's a lot of work to keep them all heavy."

That drew a chuckle. "You're kidding."

"No," I said. "I'm not. You want to fuck a sow, tell Baxs, and she'll get you one."

"Baxs?"

"I'm managing the tribe," I told him. "I told Baxs that I'd manage the tribe, and she'd manage the house. So when I want a sow ... she chooses. They're pretty much all the same, a sow is a sow."

"But you have a human," he said.

"You want the bitch?" I asked. "You can have her, just ask Baxs, but remember earlier when I said you couldn't hurt them?"

"Yes."

"I meant it," I said. "And that goes for the bitch, same as the sows."

"Oh," he said. "I don't, really."

"Don't what?"

"Want a sow," Heam said. "What I want is ..."

"Get over it," I said. "Oh, I'll take you whenever I want you, which will be often, don't worry. Fucking you was ... sows are a duty, Heam, a duty. Boars are for pleasure."

"A duty?"

"Where do think boars come from? That duty is yours, too," I said. "Don't think it's not. And when they're all heavy, then we have time for pleasure, not these ... stolen moments."

"I could ..."

"Talk to me tomorrow evening," I said with a yawn. "We'll talk more, then, if we need to."

"Yeah," Heam said.

Waking up to a blowjob is one of life's true joys, and Heam, as I woke up, was determined to bring me just as much joy as he could. I reached down, and held his head - I was wondering if he'd fight it, but he didn't. What couldn't I do to him? I held him still, let myself soften a bit, to take care of another equally urgent need. Finally; he squirmed, trying to get off, and that made me harder, preventing what I was trying to do. I chuckled, and that seemed to make Heam struggle more, but unless he wanted to hurt me, there wasn't much he could do, and it seemed he was smart enough to know where that would get him. Still ... I did want him willing, even if I'd hoped breaking him would take more effort.

A little guidance might be useful. "You're not thinking," I said. "Didn't you see what happened to Toy? I gave him pregnant sow piss. Now, think about what I'm offering you. You're not that stupid, are you?" Leaving him to - slowly - draw the obvious conclusion. Baron said the obvious conclusion was wrong, but that wasn't my problem. Getting Heam to swallow, preferably willingly, that was the the task at hand. The task at cock, at least.

After a brief pause, either he understood what I was suggesting, or he gave up and did what I wanted; I thought it was the former. I think he would have fought the inevitable longer, or maybe it just pleased me to think that. Maybe he wouldn't have, I don't know, but eventually I finished, and I bucked my hips, suggesting that he could continue with what he'd originally started. He'd been giving me a pretty decent blowjob - not fantastically skilled, but enthusiasm counts for something. I think I may have dampened his enthusiasm, so to speak.

I stroked his head to encourage him. Often, with males, men and boars, it's simply the touch they crave. Skin to skin contact; the effect sometimes borders on the magical. I rubbed his face, just to see ... and yes, it worked. I was hard again and Heam was pleasuring me to the best of his ability.

I'd take some time to train him on just how best to please another male, soon, I thought, but for now, this was exceptional, and it wasn't long before I rewarded him with a gout of seed.

I went through the rest of the day in a singularly good mood.

Darz's presence took a lot of the pressure off me. Instead of watching me and worrying about what I was doing, the tribe was watching the conflict between Urdrus and Darz. Darz was winning, or would have been winning, except that he wasn't an orc. He was a priest, though, as opposed to Urdrus, who just made vague pronouncements about 'the gods.' Oh, and that Darz's diety was female. Right there, that was a problem, and I told Darz to be as noncommital on that as possible. The truth is that orcs just don't see females as worthwhile. Strange, and not a little foolish, but that's the way it's always been. Darz's cult of the Mother of Monsters just didn't seem to catch any real orcish interest, even among the sows.

All this was fine with me; it gave me time. Time to train Heam (although that was really just for my own satisfaction). Time to revamp the way the young boars were trained, time to show my warlords how I wanted things done (and that I was more than capable of breaking one or all of them if they showed any hesitation in doing what I want. At this point I was down to eight warlords, which seemed reasonable. I talked to them about what I wanted from them, and how it would benefit them, and since I'd disposed of the stupider warlords - I will admit that boar-stupidity is something I will not tolerate in one of my warlords - the remainder quickly realized just how powerful they could become. All that was left was to win over Darz and Urdrus, whom I had deliberately left for last.

That made four of us in my office - a reasonably large room hollowed out of the rock at the command of previous warmasters and chieftains. The sows I'd ordered into their section; they were all showing heavy at this point, and although I find it charming, not all boars feel the same way. I wasn't sure how Urdrus would interpret it. He had, as far as I could tell, a fairly standard boar attitude to such things: sow were beneath them, for bearing and fucking, and sometimes not even preferentially so. According to Baxs, who had moved happily into the role of chief sow, Urdrus didn't even keep any sows himself. That could mean he didn't have a taste for them, or perhaps he labored under some set of superstitions about sex and magic. For sorcerers, just the belief in such things was often enough to make them true.

Baxs had still not produced a daughter or granddaughter for me to add to the harem, but given that the clan was just now starting to accept my authority without question, nearly seven months after I'd taken over, I could understand why she'd be hesitant. If something went wrong, if I screwed up, or if I was just unlucky, it could easily be a death sentence for her and my entire harem - that was the downside of belonging to the Warmaster. The next Warmaster, or chief, or whatever he styled himself, would almost certainly have his own harem, and very little need or use of any of my sows. That ... that would change, but not soon, and not unless I succeeded in changing a great many other things, too.

Heam was sitting at my feet, something that had given Urdrus pause as he came into the room - he'd hidden it well, but it was clear to me. I'm not sure if Darz had picked up on it or not, and I hadn't worked out any good way to communicate with Darz in front of Urdrus without his noticing. I might be able to slip something past him, but he couldn't possibly be comfortable here. I think it was only the six weeks of indifference to the sparks between Darz and him that convinced him it was a good idea.

And perhaps also that I'd left the written request for him to join me and Darz tied around his neck while he was sleeping. If I wanted him dead ... well, I could have had that a long time ago. I'd even made the request polite, or at least polite for orcs, which is to say that there were no threats. That is, no explicit threats. Just leaving the note, the way I'd left it, was an implicit one. But other than that, I tried not to seem like I was ordering him. I was, though. A request, any request, however gently phrased, from the Warmaster is an order. If it isn't, then he's not the Warmaster, just a pretender who's fast running out of time to pretend. I'm pretty sure he got the message I wanted - again, although orcs have a reputation for stupid, and most of them live up to it, it's the exceptions that rise to power. The strong exceptions, that is. It's not enough to be smart.

Urdrus sat, not quite across from me and not quite across from Darz, but facing us, with a great deal of hostility. This was ... not just a moment, not just any moment, but a moment when it would come together. I'd hinted at parts of my plan to Darz, he thought he knew all of it but I'd held some parts back, important parts. We'd agreed to double-team Urdrus, we'd agreed that we wanted his help. What Darz had missed, though, was that in a sense Urdrus and I were double-teaming him. If this were to work, and Darz knew it had to, then Darz would need to do everything my way. I smiled, a wide, mocking grin, mentally. My face wore the serious expression a chieftain, even if he styled himself a warmaster, should have.

Urdrus had come prepared. I wasn't sure what the irregular hunk of polished white rock was, other than milky quartz, but I could feel the power radiating off it, a malevolent and greasy feeling. Among his other jewelry, a silver ring set with a jagged shard of snowflake obsidian was potent enough to feel, as well. And I suspected he had other things, more subtle things, pinned to his feathered cloak, or perhaps hidden in his sleeves. He was ready for a confrontation, even if he was pretty sure he'd lose it. I liked that determination. I might win, but Urdrus would go down fighting.

"You are valiant and right to come," I said, which is an overly orcish way of saying 'thank you'.

"The Warmaster commands the respect of all," he answered, although he's never actually acknowledged me as Warmaster. Things he has said - like this - could be taken that way, but there's always that hint of ambiguity.

"I am Warmaster," I said. No more ambiguity. "And if you think otherwise, Urdrus whose magic is unchained, say so now. This clan is mine, every single one of them. Those who would say otherwise are no longer among the speaking."

"I have never said otherwise."

I nodded. "No, you have not. But you've never called me warmaster, either."

"I haven't?"

"No."

And then there was silence; a long silence. That was fine with me; I can be silent.

"Is this why you asked me to come? To acknowledge you?"

"Partly," I said. "I want to make you powerful."

"Why?"

"Because if you serve me, and you are powerful, I am more powerful."

Urdrus thought about that for a moment. "And how ... would you go about making me ... more powerful."

I shrugged. "Magic isn't my strength, strength is my strength. What makes a warlord powerful is his warriors; what makes a warmaster powerful is his warlords. I think apprentices would make you more powerful Urdrus. Five or six sorcerers, like you, who obey you as the warriors their warlord."

"Rebellious warriors, maybe," grunted Urdrus. "Who challenge their warlord constantly."

"Obedient warriors," I said. "Who obey their warlord as a god."

"No magic is that powerful, or trustworthy."

"No magic is needed," I said, dropping my voice and leaning forward. "No magic at all."

"That would be a thing to see." Did Urdrus realize that he had mirrored me, drawing closer? That just doing so both betrayed his interest and strengthened it?

"It would," I said, pitching my voice carefully. "Tell me, what animal do you associate with magic?"

"Wolf."

I nodded. "Good choice, but taken. Wolf, bear, badger, bull, weasel, bobcat - all taken. I was reckless not to say so."

"If they're all taken ..."

"Maybe fox? Eagle? Hawk? Owl? Birds are open."

Urdrus shook his head. "This is silly."

"Yes," I said. "It is, but sometimes the strongest magic is made from silly things."

"Raven, then."

"Raven ..." I said. "That would work." I leaned back. "I like it. Good choice."

"Choice for what?"

I tipped my head toward Darz. "I want to every orc in these mountains to acknowledge me warmaster - not just you, Urdrus. And the way to do that is if the sorcerers - and there are more than just you - all serve you. Devotedly. And, of course, you serve me."

"Of course," Urdrus said. "But I don't see that happening."

"I," I said slowly, "see further than you. Would you like to share my vision, Urdrus?"

He nodded.

"Your apprentices will not be serving Urdrus, but Urdrus the Raven Master. They will fight, bleed, starve themselves, beat themselves, do anything to be accepted by the Raven Master, to prove themselves worthy of you." I leaned further in. "Boars and sows aren't any different that men and women in that respect. They will suffer, they will sweat, they will pay, and pay, and pay, and sacrifice ... if they believe. That's all that's needed, that belief."

Urdrus looked ... intrigued, interested, but a little frightened. "It sounds ... how do you know it will work?"

"Experience," I said. "It will work."

"I need to consider it."

"I have given you months to consider it," I said calmly. "Ultimately, it comes down to yes or no. Whether you call me warmaster or not. And if it is no, and not, then I will permit you twenty minutes to leave."

"Leave your cave?"

"Leave the tribe," I said. "I will rule here, Urdrus, and you can rule under me, or you can leave."

"There are other options."

"Only one," I said.

"Are you so certain?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, then, I'd be a fool to refuse."

"Perhaps," I said. "Urdrus, I'm not going to ask you to trust me. What I'm asking is you call me warmaster. I'll find apprentices for you, and Darz and I will turn you into the Raven Master."

Urdrus shook his head. "It's not that I don't believe you, but ..."

"But you don't believe me," I said. "That's ... actually, that's a step forward." I leaned back, smiled. "Let me put it a different way. Would you like to believe me? Would you like to have that kind of power? Sows fighting to keep your house, share your bed, please you? Apprentices, ready to assist - to do anything to get even a touch of magic?" Right now, the sorcerer lived in a small lean-to on the skirts of the tribe. He had no sows, no apprentices, and everything he did, he did ... alone. It might be that Urdrus was just a loner, and didn't want company, and I hoped that was not the case. But mentioning sows hadn't stirred him. Of course, it wouldn't stir me either. "And boar-slaves, boars without the gift who want it," I added. "Who will do anything to wake the power within them." Urdrus' face betrayed nothing, but I could see a slight quiver. Ah. Yes. I should have known, should have guessed, where Urdrus' preferences lay.

Urdrus shifted in his chair, and then said, "I ... yes, I'd like to."

"But you don't think it can work."

"No," said Urdrus.

I smiled at him. "Heam," I said.

"Yes, warmaster?"

"Show Urdrus just how devoted to me you are."

But - the word died in a puff of breath as it turned into a determined, "Yes, warmaster."

I held up my hand as he walked over to me. "No, Heam, not me. Show Urdrus."

The confusion that flickered in his eyes died as he understood, and then, he looked over at Darz, and then back at me, swallowed, and went over to Urdrus.

"Show me ... what?" the sorcerer asked.

Heam dropped to his knees before the sorcerer. Urdrus nearly got up out of chair, but Heam moved slowly, reached out, and, as reverently as I could wish, took Urdrus' stiffening length out of his tunic, touched it with his tongue. The next few moments were spent in silence, aside from Heam's wet slurps and Urdrus' heavy panting, which turned into a low grunt as Heam swallowed down whatever Urdrus produced. Given the time - about ten seconds - I thought Urdrus had produced a generous amount.

"It works," I said.

"It does," Urdrus said, looking down at Heam. "Give me Heam, warmaster, and I'll be your Raven Master." He pondered for a moment. "Is it too late to change it to fox? Fox Master sounds stupid, though."

"Fox King doesn't," I said, thinking about Heam. It was no part of my plans to part with him. "Heam is mine."

"And your plan was so promising," Urdrus said.

I think a scowl must have crossed my face without my realizing it, because Darz tensed. "I'm glad you think so," I said, thinking rapidly. I didn't mind losing Heam, although the younger orc was good - very good - to have around, one of the few benefits of being warmaster. But he could be replaced.

Replaced, that was it. "You don't want Heam," I said. "You just want a fucktoy. He's something more than that, and I don't have the time or inclination to teach you how to use him properly." I leaned back. "I'll get you a fucktoy."

"Who?"

Ah. He was amenable to the idea. I shrugged. "None of the youngsters show promise that way," I said. "A boar like Heam is ... unusual." I gestured, and Heam came over to my side. "They need to be appreciated properly."

"I'll appreciate him properly," Urdrus said.

"But I am planning a visit to the Bone Snappers," I said. "Suppose I bring you back a boar-slave. And I'll even break him for you if you want."

"The Bone Snappers?" Urdrus said, with something like contempt. They were, traditionally, our enemies. The Sharpened Stake tribe had been battling the Bone Snappers forever. I'd dealt with a couple of abortive raids from them already. "You'll ..."

"When I'm through with my visit, you may just have the last Bone Snapper boar in existence," I said. "I'm not interested in raiding."

Urdrus laughed, and then stopped, as he saw I wasn't laughing.

"They are a distraction," I said, in a deadly serious tone. "Nothing more."

"If you do that," he said, "then ... I'll be your Fox Master. King."

"Fox King," I said. "Good. I want you to be alert to potential apprentices; ones who might have the power."

"About that," he said. "There is one."

"Heam is mine," I said, guessing where he was going.

"If he does have the power, then he's a danger."

"Heam. Is. Mine." I settled down in my chair. "The only question is whether you want your boar-slave broken or not, and how broken you want him."

"I can break him,"

"Have you broken one before?"

Urdrus was silent.

"No," I answered. "Well, I can teach you, but not in time to break him properly. You'll have to learn, training your foxlings ... hmm, fox recruits. Fox recruits, Fox Warriors, Fox Lords, Fox Princes, and of course the Fox King."

"You sound like you've already got this entire thing worked out."

"I do, Urdrus. I'll need your thoughts, they'll be important, but I do have this mostly all worked out."

The sorcerer tapped the chair. "You'll show me how you break a boar?"

"I will," I said. "In fact, I'll have you break him - that will actually be easier for me, I'm not going to have a lot of time. But I'll work with you, and he'll be just as obedient as Heam, and not as dangerous." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heam straighten up a little at that.

"Heam is dangerous?"

"Yes."

Urdrus turned a dubious look on my body servant. "Really?"

"I'm planning to rule the world, Urdrus," I said lightly. "I have many swords in the forge. Heam is different sword, and has nothing to do with you."

"Fine," Urdrus said. "I will be your Fox King, Warmaster Jack. How soon is this ... raid?"

"I am still planning it. Within the next moon."

The sorcerer nodded, and rose. "Until I get my boar."

"No," I said. "I've already talked to my warlords. Or should I say, the Wolf Lord, the Badger Chief, the Black Bull, Father Bear ..." I paused.

"The Lone Cat and The Weasel," Darz put in.

"I remember," I said.

"You're going ... the entire tribe, you're going to put the entire tribe into cults?"

"Cults that obey me, Urdrus. There's even the House of Mare, for the sows."

He was quiet for a moment. "This may be a disaster."

"Or a success, Fox King."

"I hadn't heard a thing."

"Secret societies," I said. "Why would you? But all of the young warriors are blooded into them, at this point, and most of the older ones. You're the last, actually."

"Oh," he said. "But ..." and then he was silent.

The last thing I wanted was for him to spend too much time thinking about it. "I'm glad you're on this crusade." I turned to Heam. "Heam, make sure the Fox King gets home safely, would you?"

He looked at me questioningly, and I just nodded. Show him what he can expect from his boar when we're done.

"Yes, Warmaster."

"See me in the morning, Heam."

"Yes, Warmaster."

"You will take good care of Heam, Urdrus," I said. "Both of you would be difficult to replace."

"I'll take good care of him," Urdrus said.

"I knew you would."

It was almost a full minute after they were gone that Darz turned to me and said, "I didn't realize you were almost finished setting this up."

"I lied," I said. "We're getting the young ones fairly easily, but the older warriors are resistant to change."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take them on a raid of the Bone Snappers, of course."

"But they're our supporters!"

What? "The Bone Snappers?" I asked.

"No, the cult members," Darz said.

"No, I'm not taking our cultists," I said. "I'm taking the difficult ones. Weed a few of them out."

"Oh," said Darz. "I ... I have to go." He got up, and practically ran out of my cave, which was curious, and more than a little alarming. I wasn't depending on Darz, but if he became unreliable, then that could cause serious problems. The consequences of eliminating him, if he really was serving some mysterious archlich or whatever, could be serious.

Darz returned several hours later, right before dawn, looking ... worried. "Jack," he said.

"Warmaster Jack," I corrected him. You never know who's listening.

"Warmaster, yes, I'm sorry," Darz said. "But I was hoping I could show you something in the temple." He swallowed nervously. "Now."

For the first time since I'd met Darz, I was worried. "Can this wait?"

"Not ... not really," Darz said, and leaned close to me, and switched to Chelaxian. "He wants to talk to you. Now."

Oh. That could explain some of Darz's nervousness. But was it really a sufficient explanation? It could be. It was plausible. If Darz were going to make some attempt on me, I'd expect a smoother setup than this. "All right," I said. "Let's go."

Darz needed nothing more than that, he left at once, and I followed him. I decided that I'd take some minimal precautions, and recited a chant of speed - just a few words, but the magic flowed through me nevertheless. It wouldn't last long, under an hour, but it would give me an edge, hopefully an unexpected edge, if I needed it.

As it turned out, I didn't. I did have a moment of concern when Darz slipped open a secret door, and we disappeared down a steep spiral staircase, but it led to a corridor and through another secret door into what was obviously a mage's workroom - Darz's workroom. The gnoll quickly grabbed a bronze bowl filled with something thick and black - it looked like viscous ink - and nearly ran over to a chalked diagram. He stepped into it carefully, and beckoned me to follow.

"No, no, not in the chiascurogram," Darz said, and I made a note to find out just what a chiascurogram was, other than quite obviously the intricate diagram that Darz was inside and I was outside. "Right."

Darz placed his hands together, and worked the sending spell; it could send several short sentences to anyone, across any distance. Useful, and exactly in accord with why Darz had claimed he wanted me here, although a conversation via sending seemed ... difficult. And then he spoke the words that someone - his mysterious Master, I presumed - would here. "_ Jack stands before me, ready to hear your words. I will drink the shadows, and am prepared to serve as your vessel, Master. _" And with that, he drank the contents of the bowl. "It may take him a minute or two, just wait," Darz said. A moment later, blackness oozed out around him, surrounding him until he vanished in a cloud of inky darkness.

And a minute later, the darkness boiled, and I was looking at a huge figure apparently sculpted from darkness. "I am pleased," a deep voice said, in Varisian. Human, with a southern accent, and an odd play on the vowels. I might not be able to tell what his native language was, but I was fairly certain it wasn't one of the northern tongues. One of the currently spoken northern tongues, at least.

"Darz said you wanted to talk."

"Yes, she was quite alarmed at your plan. I, on the other hand, think it's ingenious. I've instructed her to cooperate fully." There was a hint of expession on the matte black image, but I couldn't tell what it was.

She? I decided to pretend that I'd known that already. "Darz said you wanted to talk."

"Yes." the figure said, nodding slightly. "I'm preparing to invest quite heavily in this venture, and I want to ... have some contact with you. I've hired you before, indirectly."

"Oh?"

"The results were mixed," he went on. "But that had more to do with the ... tasks and opposition you faced. Your performance varied from satisfactory to exceptional, if you were wondering."

"Maybe a little," I admitted, wondering what job had really been for this fellow. "So you hired me again."

"Yes, but Darzybyquoliaque found and suggested you. Darz was not aware of the previous connection, and honestly, I don't know that I would have considered you for this. My impression is that you enjoyed more sophisticated surroundings."

"I do," I said. "This isn't merely a cesspit, it's a boring cesspit."

"And yet Darz said you were enthusiastic."

"I was," I said. "I am."

"And you don't see a contradiction?"

"Of course I see the contradiction, I'm not stupid."

"Then explain it to me."

"No" I said. "You know what you need to know - I'm capable, I'm committed, and my plans are - what was your word? Ingenious? If that's not enough, you can withdraw your support and get the fuck out of my way."

There was a moment of silence. I'm guessing that this archmage hadn't been addressed like that for a long time.

"You don't consider your behavior a little risky?"

"No," I said again. "If you were stupid, then yes, it might be. But you're not. I'm doing what you want - and note that I haven't asked you your reasons for wanting an orc horde to invade Cheliax."

"Don't you want to know them?"

"Not really," I said. "If they matter, you'll have to tell me, and I judge that you're smart enough to know if that's the case. If they don't matter, then ... no offense, but I don't care."

"Why do you say I have to know if that's the case?"

I looked at for a moment. "Because you've hired me before, and you said the results were at least satisfactory. I may not know what I did for you, but I know how I work: I get results, and I don't let my employer tell me how to do it. Therefore, you know that the way to get the results you want are to tell me what it is you need, and let me get on with. That's the first thing you said in this conversation - you'd ordered your minion to conform herself to my plans."

"I am schooled," he said. "I am seeking to lessen the diabolic influence in Cheliax."

"I'm not guaranteeing that," I said. "Orc hordes, I can do."

"It's not guaranteed. But burning Cheliax to the ground will go a fair ways towards my goal."

"That's achievable," I said, "but very unlikely. My estimation is that we'll get no more than a hundred or so miles in Cheliax before we hit diabolic resistance, and we can't overcome that. Everything within those hundred miles will be destroyed, but once the devils come out to play ... game over."

"Refreshingly honest," the figure said. "Why do you think you'd penetrate that far?"

"Politics," I said. "Until we look like a real threat, everyone will want someone else to deal with us."

There was a moment of silence, and then, "You show a remarkable appreciation for the situation."

"I spent time there."

"Did you." It wasn't a question. "You hate them, don't you."

I suddenly remembered, too late, that arch-lich-mages don't get that way unless they're very, very smart. "Yes," I admitted. There's absolutely no point lying to these sorts. Even if they're not so paranoid that they're testing everything you say magically for truth, they're just too smart to fool long-term.

"And you hate orcs, too."

Damn. "Yes," I said.

"And that's why you're doing this."

"As I said, it's not relevant. I'm doing it."

"And that's where you're wrong," the figure said. "It is relevant. The more closely I can align my plans with yours - the better my outcome. Believe it or not, I have no interest in getting you to do anything you don't want. That's not a conflict that advances my goals one whit. If I can arrange it so I get what I want when you get what you want ... now, that advances my goals. Do you see?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Maybe," he said, not pressing the point but making it clear nevertheless that he knew that I just didn't want to admit it. "Also, it makes me more certain that you're going to carry through."

"That point, I grant."

"Which is good for you, because if I'm more certain, than you can have more faith in me."

"I don't have any faith in you," I said. "No offense."

"None taken," the reply came. "But ... I do have my other irons in the fire. My desire is to time things so that Cheliax has ... a great number of problems other than you descending upon it."

"Then we'll have to cooperate on timing," I said. "That's not a problem. I'm estimating four or five years at this point."

"I'd like to push it out a little further," the figure said thoughtfully. "Twenty would be ideal."

Twenty? "No, twenty would not be ideal," I said. "Five is ideal."

"That's pushing a little too hard. I have some things brewing, but they simply can't be rushed. Forgive me for not being specific."

"Forgiven, certainly, but twenty years isn't possible."

"I don't see why not."

"I'm guessing it's because you're some kind of undying thousand-year-old archmage who's forgotten I'm a thirty-eight year old half-orc who, in twenty years, will probably be dead of old age." I paused. "Just a guess, though."

"An excellent guess," the figure said. "You're right. But that problem is easily solved ..."

"I'm not going the undead route," I said. "Don't even suggest it. I don't want to be a vampire or a wight or an anything. I like being alive. It's one of the few satisfactions of my existence."

"Then the problem can still be solved. I can arrange for your aging to cease, or at least slow down to a crawl. Will that be acceptable?"

"You can do that?"

"I can't, no. But I can arrange for it to be done."

"I'll still be alive."

"Yes."

"With all of my faculties intact."

"Yes."

"What's the catch? Exactly ... what will happen?"

"Right now, assuming everything is normal, you age one year for every year."

"I expect so. I'm not sure how to test that."

"There is an entity which can slow down that process, so that you age one minute for every year. It won't affect anything else, and it will seem like you simply stop getting older, although you will, just ... extremely slowly. You'll still eat and drink and sleep and breathe just like you do now, you'll just ... stay young." He paused. "Or middle-aged."

"Elderly, for an orc," I said. "I seem to be aging more like a human would, though."

"You'd know better than I would."

"Would it affect virility? Libido?"

"I don't think so, although the report I have didn't say so specifically. It mentioned no drawbacks, other than the cost involved in summoning the entity."

"So the catch is calling this thing."

"I suppose you could say that," the figure said. "It's complex, very dangerous, easy to make an error, and requires multiple sacrifices."

"Orcs will suffice as sacrifices?"

"I think so. I can find out.

"Then that's not a problem - I have a virtually unlimited supply of orcs." I had a thought. "Hold on to that. Does gender matter? I mean, do they have to be virgins or anything?"

"If I recall correctly, it requires eight or ten sacrifices, at least one of which must be male, and one of which must be female. The others don't matter."

"If we can use orcs, it's not a problem. Who'd do the summoning?"

"Darz would have to."

"Is Darz good enough to do this?

"With some coaching, yes."

"Fine. You get the delay you want out of it."

"Yes."

"What do I get?"

"A longer life."

"Well whoop-de-do," I said. "I never expected to die of old age, and I still don't, so that's not enough."

"Let me see if I understand this," the figure said. "I am prepared to extend your life - drastically, at my own expense and requiring a serious investment of my time, and you want to be compensated for ... my inconvenience?"

"If you want to put it like that, then yes," I said. "Because you're offering it because it is convenient for you to do so. The prospect of an additional fifteen years living in a stinking - and I mean that literally - orc hold fails to thrill me."

"It also promises greater success when you invade Cheliax."

"That's something," I agreed. "Not enough."

"I've already provided you with very powerful magic - the amulet of silence, for example, or that gauntlet."

The gauntlet ... "True," I said, "but that was for agreeing to do this in the first place."

After a moment there was laugh. "Fine. What do you want? Money? Magic?"

"I need some time to think about it," I said. "But I'm sure I can think of something. Call it a ... favor, for now."

"One unspecified favor," the figure said. "With the caveat that it does not undermine any of my ongoing activities, and that it is ... of relatively limited scope. I'm not, for example, going to conquer Irrasen for you."

I thought about it. Actually, there really wasn't much I wanted. And I was trusting him to deliver, anyway. "Done," I said. "I need some way to call in my favor, though."

"Darz can contact me."

That was true. "Agreed," I said.

"And my time is up ..." he said, almost regretfully. "Carry on. Consolidate your position. We'll talk again in a few months." The black shadow boiled away, leaving Darz passed out on the floor in the diagram.

I waited until the darkness had boiled away completely before I called to him - her, to her. "Darz?"

The gnoll raised herself up on her hands. "Oh," she moaned. "That was ... I can't believe you did that!"

"Did what?"

"Argued!"

"It's what I do," I said. "And it worked out."

Darz just looked at me reproachfully.