Far from Ankh-Morpork, in the depths of Loko in far Überwald, a patrol of Orcs proceeded quietly in 'hostile country' formation. They had no particular reason for believing that the area they were crossing was, in fact, hostile country but in a place so strange and so full of a very,
very
strong magical field caution was ever the watchword. None of them carried weapons for the very good reason that Orcs
are
weapons, built in bad old days of the Evil Emperor by Igors of the time. It has been theorized that they were constructed and bred up from goblins but, as Lord Vetinari pointed out, that was unlikely. The Orcs, he opined, had to have been bred from men as only humans are capable of the kind of viciousness that the Evil Emperor required. Even then they had to be driven into battle with magical whips as their normal nature is calm, intelligent, cooperative and at times even poetic. In Loko today, though, they are mostly watchful.
One led in the point position ahead of the main body with flankers at the sides and a rear guard bringing up the tail. They moved in silence, like wolves on the hunt, observing and noting anything and everything even more unusual for so unusual a place.
Suddenly Private Malcolm, the point, raised his hand and stopped the entire patrol. He turned to face Sergeant Hornbeam, smiled and raised one finger. Then he walked forward another fifty yards and raised both hands to show that he carried no weapons.
"Hello," he called out to a family of fauns, "we are just passing through. Are you all well?"
Signaling his mate and children to stay back, the male stepped forward, his hands also clearly empty.
"Hello, Orcs," he answered, " we haven't seen your folk here for a while. Are you returning permanently?"
"Oh, no. We are just keeping an eye on the place for Lady Margolotta. Since we are the only ones of Überwald who can come here and survive, it's our job to make sure no rogue wizards try to use the magic here to try and become Sourcerors, again. One Evil Emperor was too many and the Lady wants no possibility of another arising. How are things here in the forest?"
The faun looked furtively to both sides and motioned his family to come closer before leading them up to the patrol.
Private Malcolm, sensing that something was amiss motioned his superior to come up.
"This is Sergeant Hornbeam and I am Private Malcolm."
The faun nodded in greeting. "I am called Piper and this is my lady Fleet and our children Nectar and Honeydew. Things in the forest are--not normal."
Sergeant Hornbeam stiffened and turned to his patrol. "Defensive perimeter!"
At once the patrol surrounded them at a distance, faced outwards, then sank into the grass and behind trees and brush.
"Faun Piper," he began, "is your tale a long one? If so we will start a fire and make tea or perhaps start a meal?"
Fleet brightened. "Tea would be good for my husband's report will take a while."
Piper nodded. "Yes, unfortunately it will and the tidings are worrisome."
A couple of the Orcs came in from the perimeter, lay down their packs and drew out matches, kindling, cups, a pot and a package of tea. One took the pot over to a creek and filled it. Soon the grass was scraped down to non-flammable dirt, a ring of rocks built and a merry, smokeless fire began to bring the water to a boil. Then the troopers returned to their posts.
The fauns all sat down and infant Honeydew began to fuss so Fleet pulled her to a breast to nurse while little Nectar walked wide-eyed up to Sergeant Hornbeam and poked at his cuirass. The Sergeant smiled benignly and patted the child's head.
"Hello, Nectar. How are you?"
"Tea?"
"Yes, we are making tea. Do you like tea?"
Nectar grinned broadly. "Tea!"
Once the tea was brewed and distributed both to the group around the fire and the perimeter guard Piper began his story.
"You Orcs remember that a year or so ago a wizard set up in a cave not far from here and began to terrorize all of us who live in Loko. He even killed and ate a couple of our friends the centaurs before a patrol of your fellows happened upon him. He made the mistake of welcoming them as his new slaves so they, quite appropriately, drove their claws through his skull and tore out his throat before burning the remains. We Forest Folk were greatly relieved and are most grateful to you.
A few months later a fool from the Counterweight Continent, disregarding the diseases here that afflict humans and their related species, set up a weaving factory around the very same cave. They were making flying carpets woven with Octiron thread, here, in Loko of all places. The leader took the first carpet for his own and when he tried to take off, a swarm of Things from the Dungeon Dimensions burst out of the cave. Fortunately, a squad of golems from Ankh-Morpork were waiting in ambush and used a flame throwing machine to destroy them all. They also burned all the looms as well as the store of Octiron thread.
All the weavers fled in panic into the forest. Of course, none of them survived. We still occasionally find their remains or such as the scavengers have left. We thought that that was the end of it but in the last few months, there has been an odd feeling around the cave and strange footprints lead out of it. The tracks show an unaccountable number of feet."
Sergeant Hornbeam looked sharply at Private Malcolm. Malcolm's eyes narrowed and he raised a hand.
"Things!" he exclaimed and long claws shot out of his fingertips.
