The Werewolf and the Wormlord Read Online Free

you can’t have everything.’
    ‘There’s probably worms,’ said Morgenstem, speaking of the stream.
    ‘No,’ said Alfric. ‘No worms. It’s deep, but it’s clear water, I’ve seen it by day. Trust me, it’s safe.’
    So the orks ventured to the near-frozen water, and soon Alfric heard them disporting themselves in the stream. Their layers of blubber were such that they could happily bathe in water too cold to melt ice. Alfric tethered his horses, put up a tent, gathered wood and made a fire. It was the fire which allowed the orks to find their way to the knoll once their aqueous delights were at an end.
    Once the orks had returned, Alfric went down to the stream himself. He stripped, washed crutch and feet, washed his armpits and splashed some water in his face. Then, shivering and shuddering, he dressed himself again.
    Then waited.
    Watching.
    Listening.
    Was anything out there?
    Creeping, peeping, preparing for ravaging?
    Nothing.
    Just the desolate wind, the rick-rack branches of the winterworld forest, and, far off, a late-hunting parrot-bat.
    The sky was growing grey as the rule of the Revealer drew near. This place was far from Her haunts. And, in any case, if She was still out in the night, then She would now be making for her home in a great hurry.
    Alfric made his way back to the knoll, only to find that his tent had assumed a most unusual shape. It was swollen, bulging and close to bursting. For half a moment he thought it bewitched. Then he realized his orks had taken refuge within. He had expected them to sleep outside in the open. For, with their layers of oil-yielding blubber, they were equipped to endure such repose without undue discomfort.
    So what had got into them?
    Were they asserting their status as royal ambassadors?
    Or were they scared of the dark, and of the possibility of being set upon by Herself in that dark?
    Knowing orks as he did, Alfric was inclined to suspect that it was fear which had driven them inside the largely illusory protection of his canvas. And, while he was displeased at being thus exiled from his own tentage, he had to admire the ingenuity with which the lugubrious monsters had crammed their combined bulk into a tent of such modest size.
    Besides, there was no point in arguing about it, because the orks were already asleep, as was evident from their strenuous snoring. Alfric knew from his ethnology texts that few tasks are more futile than trying to rouse a slumbering ork. So he wrapped himself in a goundsheet and settled against a tree to sleep.
    Sleep, however, came not.
    For Alfric began to worry about the difficulties that would beset him once they got to Galsh Ebrek. The more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of exposing a pair of innocent orks to the dangers of that city, particularly when King Dimple-Dumpling might well hold him personally responsible for the well-being of the orks even after those creatures had been delivered to Saxo Pall. Since Alfric was the son of a Yudonic Knight, he was not in the habit of confessing fear. Nevertheless, he did not exactly relish the possibility of incurring an ogre’s enmity.
    The incidental hazards of Galsh Ebrek are bad enough, but in this case Alfric was more afraid of the active enmity of his enemies, most notably the three brothers Norn.
    Pig Norn.
    Wu Norn.
    And Ciranoush Zaxilian Norn.
    The trouble between Alfric Danbrog and the brothers Norn had started years ago, and it had started with Ciranoush.
    Entry to the Bank was by competitive examination. While Ciranoush and Alfric were both Certified Geniuses, Alfric had won a marginal triumph in such examination, and therefore had been accepted by the Bank on the same day that Ciranoush was rejected. Ciranoush had promptly accused Alfric of bribing the Bank’s examiner, and of forging medical records to conceal a scandalous genetic deficiency.
    The passing years had done nothing to ease Ciranoush Zaxilian’s jealous passion. Rather, Alfric’s success