The Dark Lord's Handbook Read Online Free PDF Page B

the absolute terror that had also gripped the Count.
    “As…as…as you wish.”
    “Good,” said Black Orchid, regaining some composure. “Now, the rest of you, go and prepare. You’ll need lots of money, so borrow more. And don’t worry, it’s not as though you’ll be giving any of it back.”
    “We won’t?” said Lilly.
    Black Orchid’s hood turned in Lilly’s direction. “Of course not. How stupid are you? Really? The world is going to be laid to ruin and we are going to save it. Saviours don’t give anything back. Now go. Quickly.”
    The ten left hurriedly by the spiral stair. Black Orchid presumably would leave the same way she had arrived, by alternative methods. The Count tried to suppress the notion that Black Orchid flew, either under her own power or on some creature, and the associated connotations should that in fact be the case.
    There was little small talk as was normal after such meetings. The mood seemed tense. Until now their conspiracy had been mostly talk and complaints about the continual rise in the cost of living and the horrendous overheads in maintaining their stations in life, spiralling ever more into debt with the loathsome middle classes. Now, however, it seemed to the Count that perhaps things were going to happen. For a man of action such as himself, the prospect was invigorating. It was all well and good leading a small army of highly trained knights and footmen but such a waste if they did little more than control brigands and have the odd prearranged border skirmish. War was coming, proper all-out-and-bloody war, and the more the Count thought on it the more invigorated he became.
     

Chapter 6 The Handbook
     
    A strong right hand has many uses.
    The Dark Lord’s Handbook
     
    Morden followed the orc into the warren of alleys that led off the town square in the direction of the poorer part of town. Morden forgot the lure of warmth, beer, and the maids that purveyed the latter in the Slap and Tickle.
    “What should I call you?” he enquired of the hefty back in front of him.
    The orc stopped to face Morden and grinned. Morden couldn’t decide which was worse, the teeth or the breath that escaped from between them.
    “My orcish name is Kzchtk,” said the orc in a contortion of vowel-less grunts that sounded like he was about to vomit. “But you can call me Grimtooth.”
    Morden observed the orc with what he hoped was a dry smile. “Kzchtk, you say?”
    The orcs eyebrows rose like two hairy caterpillars heaving themselves off a branch. “Few can speak the Orcish tongue. You’ve had your tonsils removed?”
    Morden smiled. “Not at all. Let’s just say I have a gift for pronunciation. So what does, Kzchtk , mean?”
    “It means, Grimtooth,” said the orc, his fierce grin widening.
    “Touché,” said Morden. “Lead on, Grimtooth.”
    The alleys narrowed. The filth became ankle deep and the dwellings became hovels. Though there weren’t many outside, Morden noticed that many of those they did pass seemed to share the same physical bulkiness of Grimtooth, and many had a greeting for them as they passed.
    “You seem well known and much liked,” observed Morden.
    “They are my people,” said Grimtooth. “Here we are.”
    Grimtooth had stopped outside a hovel that was larger and better kept than the rest. There were fewer holes in the walls and the roof was complete bar a smoke hole. There was no door as such, merely a heavy leather awning. Grimtooth was obviously waiting for Morden to enter. Morden considered how wise this was. He was well known, and of some means. This could be the simplest kidnapping ever done if he just walked in and was held, but something about Grimtooth told him that this was not the case. The deference with which he addressed Morden seemed sincere.
    Morden pushed the leather aside and ducked into the doorway.
    His hood caught on the hanging as he entered so his head was bared when he stood upright. He was greeted by a circle of orcs