The Last Supper of Sniv: A Short Story

The Last Supper of Sniv

The wine in the silver goblet was rich. It was a deep vintage looted from a burning human vineyard three days prior. It tasted of oak and blackberries. I held the liquid in my mouth and let it wash over my tongue. I swallowed. The warmth hit my stomach.

Then came the aftertaste.

It was faint. A human would have missed it. An Orc would have ignored it. But I was Sniv. I had survived four years as the Royal Taster for General Kurg. I knew the flavor of death better than I knew the flavor of bread.

Copper. Cold and sharp like licking a coin.

Midnight Tears.

I set the goblet down on the heavy oak table. My hand did not shake. The poison was alchemical and expensive. It did not kill instantly. It was a gentleman's killer. It numbed the extremities first. Then it solidified the fluids in the lungs. I had perhaps an hour before I drowned on dry land.

"Well?" Commander Rusk grunted. He leaned forward in the lamplight. His tusked face was a mask of false boredom. " Is it poisoned runt? The General is thirsty."

I looked at Rusk. He was the second in command. He was ambitious and cruel and he had poured this cup himself. He watched me with black eyes that glittered with anticipation. He waited for me to clutch my throat. He waited for me to scream. He waited for me to die so he could "discover" the assassination attempt and blame a rival.

I forced a smile.

"It is excellent Commander," I lied. "Notes of plum. The General will be pleased."

Rusk blinked. The confusion on his face was a delicious thing. He knew what he had put in there. He looked at the cup then back at me.

"Good," he muttered. He did not sound convinced. "Get out of my sight. Go fetch the roast."

I bowed low. "At once Commander."

I turned and walked out of the command tent. The cool night air of the Bloodcrag Encampment hit my face. It felt good. I took a deep breath while I still could. My fingertips already tingled with the first touch of the numbness.

I had an hour. I could crawl into a hole and die. Or I could serve the main course.

I started to run.

I navigated the mud of the main thoroughfare. I dodged the heavy boots of the Unbroken warriors on patrol. They ignored me. To them I was vermin. I was a shadow in the dirt.

I reached the tent of the Bone Painter. The smell of lime and arsenic hung heavy in the air. Smear sat on a stool and ground white chalk into a paste. He looked up as I entered. His eyes were wide and yellow.

"Sniv," he croaked. "You look pale. Paler than usual."

"I need color Smear," I said. I grabbed a pot of "Warrior’s Flush." It was a red ochre paste used to make the sick look healthy for inspection. "Paint me."

"Why?" Smear asked. He tilted his head. "You have a date?"

"I have a funeral," I replied. "Make me look like I will live forever."

Smear did not ask questions. Goblins learned early that questions got you killed. He worked fast. He rubbed the paste into my cheeks and over my sweating brow. The cold copper taste in my mouth grew stronger. My breath hitched. The poison was working.

"Done," Smear said. He held up a polished shield.

I looked. The goblin in the reflection looked vibrant. His eyes were bright. His skin was flushed with life. It was a perfect lie.

"Take this too," Smear whispered. He handed me a small vial of green liquid. "Fire-moss extract. It numbs pain. It will keep you standing when your legs want to quit."

I drank it. The fire burned away the cold copper for a moment.

"Thank you brother," I said.

I sprinted out of the tent. Time was bleeding away. I had the look. Now I needed the spice.

I headed for the siege lines. The massive war machines loomed in the dark like sleeping dragons. I found the supply wagon for the sappers. Boom-Boom was there. He sat on a crate of black powder and whittled a piece of fuse wire. He was missing an ear and half his nose from a mishap the previous winter.

"Boom-Boom," I wheezed. My chest felt tight. "I need a Seed."

Boom-Boom looked at me. He grinned and revealed a mouth full of jagged teeth. "Big boom or little boom?"

"Little," I said. "Table size."

He reached into his pouch and tossed me a small iron sphere. It was the size of an apple. It was a Fire-Seed. A concentrated grenade used to blow the hinges off reinforced doors.

"Fuse is short," Boom-Boom warned. "Three seconds. Do not hold it."

"I won't," I promised.

I tucked the iron sphere into my tunic. The weight of it pressed against my ribs. It felt like a second heart. One that beat with fire instead of blood.

I ran back to the kitchens. My legs felt heavy. The numbness had reached my knees. I stumbled once but caught myself. The Fire-moss extract was fighting the poison but it was a losing battle. I could hear the fluid rattling in my lungs with every breath.

The cook was busy abusing a scullion near the soup pots. The main course sat on a platter near the door. A massive roast boar glazed in honey and garlic. Its mouth was propped open with a cooked apple.

I approached the boar. I checked the room. No one watched the taster.

I removed the apple from the mouth of the boar. I took the Fire-Seed from my tunic. I shoved the iron sphere deep into the throat of the roasted beast. I replaced the apple.

I lifted the heavy platter. My arms shook. The weakness was spreading. I gritted my teeth and forced my muscles to obey.

I walked back to the command tent.

General Kurg had arrived. He sat at the head of the table. He was a mountain of muscle and scars. Commander Rusk sat to his right. Rusk looked nervous. He kept glancing at the door. He expected a corpse to be dragged in.

I pushed through the tent flap.

"Dinner is served," I announced. My voice was steady.

Rusk froze. His eyes bulged. He stared at me. He saw the flush in my cheeks. He saw the steady way I held the platter. He saw a goblin who should be dead but was very much alive.

I set the boar down in the center of the table.

"Excellent," General Kurg boomed. He grabbed his knife. "I am starving."

"Wait General," Rusk blurted out. He stood up. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "We... we should let the taster try the meat first. Just to be safe."

Rusk was panic stricken. He thought the wine had failed. He thought I was immune. Now he feared I had poisoned the meat to kill him.

I smiled.

"Of course Commander," I said. "But the best part is the cheek. I saved it for you."

I picked up the carving knife. I sliced a piece of meat from the jaw of the boar. I did not eat it. Instead I reached into the mouth of the beast.

I pulled the pin on the Fire-Seed hidden behind the apple.

Click.

Rusk heard it. His eyes went to the boar. He saw the wisp of smoke curling from the mouth.

"Three seconds," I whispered.

"Traitor!" Rusk screamed. He shoved the table.

General Kurg looked confused. "What is this?"

One.

I grabbed the platter. I did not run away. I lunged forward. I threw my body onto the table. I hugged the boar and the bomb close to my chest. I looked Rusk in the eye.

Two.

"The wine was excellent," I said.

Three.

The explosion was not loud. It was a dull thump that shook the ground. The blast was contained by the meat and my body. It did not kill the General. It sent a shower of bone and shrapnel and hot iron forward in a focused cone.

The command tent filled with smoke.

General Kurg stood up. He wiped grease and ash from his face. He was unharmed. He looked at the table.

The taster was gone. The boar was gone.

Commander Rusk lay on the floor. He had a piece of the iron sphere lodged in his forehead. He looked surprised.

Kurg looked at the carnage. He picked up his goblet of wine. He sniffed it. He smelled the faint scent of copper beneath the blackberries.

He understood.

The General took a sip of the poisoned wine. He was an Orc. His constitution could handle what would kill a goblin. He spat it out.

"A loyal servant," Kurg grunted. "Hard to find."

He kicked the body of Rusk.

"Get a mop," the General bellowed to the guards outside. "And bring me a new taster."

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