Pepperdyne lunged and grabbed him by the scruff. “If you think you don’t owe me your life, maybe I’ll take it back.”
“Take your filthy hands off me, you —”
The door opened.
Pepperdyne let go of Standeven.
Coilla came in. “Jode? Are you —Oh.”
Standeven transferred his red-faced glare from Pepperdyne to her. “
Don’t mind me
,” he snarled. Shoving past her, he left.
“Let him go,” Pepperdyne said.
“I wasn’t thinking of stopping him,” Coilla replied. She closed the door. “You were arguing.”
“Very perceptive.”
“If you want to be let alone I can —”
“Sorry.” His tone was conciliatory. “It’s just that he gets under my skin.”
“You’re not alone.”
He nodded. “What was it you wanted, Coilla?”
“Well, first off, I thought you could use some of this.” She handed him a brandy flask.
He accepted it, took a swig and gave it back. “And second?”
“You two left in such a hurry, I just wanted you to know that not everybody in the band thinks badly of you.”
“What, both of us? Me and… him?” He nodded at the door.
“I was thinking of you.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. “But I reckon you’re in a minority of one.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I reckon Stryke has some regard for you. Maybe a couple of the others.”
“They’ve a funny way of showing it.”
“You’ve got to understand how it is between orcs and humans. And not just in this world. We’ve got… history.”
“Maybe that’s something I can understand.”
“Can you?”
“You think orcs were the only downtrodden race on our world?”
“You’re a human. Your kind does the treading.”
“There are humans and humans.”
“Isn’t it time you came clean about yourself?”
“What’s to tell?” he came back stiffly.
“Don’t close up on me.”
“Would knowing my past change anything? I mean, haven’t I proven myself yet?”
“You have to me. But most of the others…”
“I give you my word that I had nothing to do with the theft of the star.”
“And what would your partner say if I asked him about it?”
“Standeven’s not my partner,” he returned sharply. “And he’d give you his word too.”
“What value could I put on that?”
“As much as I do.”
“How much is that?”
“If Standeven says he didn’t —”
“Why are you so loyal to him, Jode?”
He sighed. “Habit, I suppose. And not wanting to believe certain things even of him.”
“What
is
the bond between you two?”
“Complicated.”
“Not enough. Tell me more.”
He had to grin. “You’re persistent, Coilla, I’ll give you that.”
“So reward me. Open up a bit. I’d like to know something about the man I owe my life to.”
“How about that flask again?”
She dug it out. He took another draught. Coilla had one too.
“Well?” she said.
“I’m a Trougathian.”
“You’re a
what
?”
“A Trougathian. After Trougath, the place we come from.”
“Never heard of it.” There was a chair by her, and she sat.
He followed her lead and perched on a barrel of nails. “The world you and I come from is much bigger than the part you call
Maras-Dantia.”
“And your race renamed Centrasia,” she replied with a trace of bitterness.
“
Some
humans did. My sort didn’t get to name places.”
“So what sort are they?”
“A little like you orcs.”
“Yeah?” She couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice.
“Well, I said a
little
like. But there’s a couple of similarities. One is that my race has a martial tradition too.”
“That explains your skill with a blade. So your race fights as a living, like we do?”
“No. It’s not inborn with us; it’s learnt. Though over so long a time it practically
is
inborn now. But we’re not fighters by inclination, or even choice. It was just practical. Most of my race would prefer untroubled
lives.”
“If you didn’t choose to fight, you must have something to defend.”
“Ourselves. And our land.”
“The first I understand. But dying for land, that seems odd to me. Maybe because orcs never had any.”
“They did here.”
“And your race took it from them.” She raised her hands. “Sorry. Tell me about your land.”
“Trougath’s an island off… well, it doesn’t really matter where it is. It’s large enough for us and the soil’s good. So’s
the fish harvest. We’re islanders, we have an understanding with the sea. Most of all, it’s our homeland. But it’s got one
flaw.”
“Its location.”
“You’re smart.”
“For an orc, you mean?”
“No, just smart.”
“Stands to reason you’d only have enemies if there’s something you’ve got they want, or if you’re in the wrong place.”
“I can see why you’re the band’s mistress of strategy. But you’re right; a very wrong place. At least, that’s what it became.
Trougath stands at a point where it could threaten free passage for its several neighbours, had we wanted to do that, which
we didn’t. So we sat in the middle of a wheel, each spoke sharpened and pointing at us. All the neighbouring states had a
lustful eye on such a favourably placed island. Whoever took it could cow the others. That’s why my people embraced warfare,
and kept them out.”
“How come, if those nearby states were so strong?”
“My people had been there since long before the rise of the powers that came to surround us. We were numerous and well established.
We knew the terrain. And we fought well, as people will when they’re protecting all they’ve got. We were always on alert,
and often under actual siege. We did without enough arms; we did without salt. Even water, at times.”
“How long did that last?”
“Generations. Eventually it dawned on them that they couldn’t conquer us, so they took to flattering us. So in addition to
the skills of combat, we learnt the black art of politics. The game became playing one off against the other. That, and occasional
wars, kept us sovereign for a long time.”
“But I’m guessing your luck ran out. Otherwise you’d be there now.”
He nodded. “Our leaders sided with the wrong tyrant. Not through any liking of him, but by necessity. That caused a schism
among my people. Not a civil war exactly, though that came close, but enough of a distraction for us to drop our guard. The
very warlord our leaders befriended was the one who took advantage.”
“There’s a surprise.”
“It seemed like treachery to us. Hell, that’s what it
was
. Those were dark days, and we all did things we weren’t especially proud of, in the name of patriotism. None less than me.
I won’t bore you with the ins and outs. The upshot was that our nation was smashed and what survived of the population scattered.
We became drifters, peasants in foreign lands, impoverished merchants, even mercenaries. Some were enslaved.” The latter came
out with particular vitriol.
Coilla kept her peace for a moment, then, “You said there was more than one way your race was like mine.”
“We’re both maligned. And once your enemies stigmatise you, they can justify any crime, any indignity they heap on you. Our
name was blackened and it sticks. Even false ignominy carries on, like a rock cast down a hill.”
She could relate to that. “The storytellers, the scholars with their books: they’re from the winning side, more often than
not. You wouldn’t believe the shit they spew about orcs. They say we favour human flesh, or even that we eat each other. They
put it about that we sprang from
elves
, for the gods’ sake. All lies!”
“They said we conjured demons and sodomised goats.”
Coilla burst out laughing. Pepperdyne looked stern for a moment, then joined her.
“So,” she said when that was subsiding, “how does Standeven come into all this?”
Amusement died in his face instantly, like a snuffed candle.
“Is he a… Trougathian too?” she asked.
“No, he’s a bastard.”
“But one with some kind of charge on you.”
“Let’s say I’m working a debt off with him.”
“Even while you’re in this world? Doesn’t that change anything?”
“Only here. Back home…”
“We might never see our homes again, Jode!” She checked herself. “Shit. That’s not good for morale, is it? Stryke’d hate hearing
me say that.”
“It’s no secret, Coilla. I reckon we all think that staying here’s the most likely thing.”
“Well, it’d be no different to what’s happened in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“Something we were told before we left Maras-Dantia the first time. Do you know why the elder races came to be there?”
“
Why?
They… you… were just… always there. Weren’t you?”
“No. I don’t say I understand it, but out there” —she waved a limp hand in the general direction of away —“out there, there
are whole worlds of elves and centaurs, and pixies and gnomes, and all the rest. And orcs,” she added hastily. “Crowds of
the races… I don’t know…
fell through
to Maras-Dantia. Scooped up like fish in a net by a powerful sorceress.”
“Humans too?”
“We were told you were our world’s true race.”
“Ironic.”
“We didn’t think so.” There was a flash of steel in her eyes.
“So all orcs would have originally come from Acurial. From here?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. The world we’ve been living in, Ceragon, has only orcs too. But a damned sight more spirited than
the ones here.”
“So humans might not have started off on Maras-Dantia. Who’s to say where orcs, humans or any other race could have originated?
Or how far they’ve spread. Doesn’t that intrigue you?”
“No, it makes my head hurt. I see things simpler. Like, maybe we should look at this as being just like moving from one camp
to another. Your people are drifters: you must understand that.”
“It’s a hell of a trek, Coilla. Sure you’re not just making the best of it?”
“ ’Course that’s what I’m doing. It’s the orc way. We never say die.”
“That could have been Trougath’s motto.” He grew sombre. “But lately I feel almost like —”
He broke off at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were loud and hurried, and could mean trouble. Pepperdyne and Coilla
got up, hands on sword hilts.
Chillder burst into the room. She was breathing heavily.
“We’ve got a situation,” she announced, “and we need all the swords we can muster.”
A crowd had gathered in one of Taress’ largest squares. The mob was several hundred strong, and tempers were fraying. What
began as a series of protests —against taxes, restricted access to holy places, the razing of certain venerated buildings,
food rationing, curfews, heavy-handed policing and any number of other grievances —had distilled into a general outpouring
of bitterness at the occupation.
The situation was near flashpoint. But it wasn’t an incipient riot that drew the resistance. Their aim was to use it as cover.
A number of the rebels were present, along with most of the Wolverines, and the Vixens, the all-female unit Coilla had formed.
Scattered around the square, they were dressed soberly, with weapons well concealed.
“Not that long ago these orcs wouldn’t have been this restive,” Stryke whispered in Brelan’s ear.
“They wouldn’t even have come onto the streets.”
The pair were standing together at the edge of the milling crowd. There was a knot of human militia nearby, disquiet on their
hard faces.
Stryke could see Haskeer not far off, and a little way on, Dallog with a team of grunts. Further afield, Chillder stood alongside
several Vixens. But there was no sign yet of the comrades they were waiting for.
“Sure everybody knows what they have to do?” Brelan asked softly.
Stryke replied pointedly, “My band does. I hope
your
facts are right.”
“There’s no doubt. What we want is there.” He flicked a glance at a building on one side of the square. It stood apart from
its neighbours on either side, and looked recently constructed. A squat, one-storey structure, it had white facing and barred
windows. Weapons drawn and watchful, a group of nervous militiamen stood guard outside its heavy door.
Stryke was careful not to be seen staring at the place. “So what happened?”
“Seven of our comrades were in the area checking out a target. They got unlucky. The troopers took them without blood being
spilt.”
Stryke raised an eyebrow at that.
“We don’t know how they came to be caught, except they were outnumbered.”
“How come they’re in this guards’ station?”
“They couldn’t be taken to a proper prison for fear of the crowd. We reckon they’ll be kept in there until this blows over.
Or until an escort arrives.”
“Plenty of soldiers around as it is,” Stryke said, scanning the scene.
“They’ll have other things to think about soon.” He chanced another quick peek at the guardhouse. “If we don’t get them out
they’ll be at the mercy of Iron Hand’s torturers. They’re good patriots, and loyal, but they’ll talk. And that could be a
real blow for us.”
Stryke nodded, then gave Brelan a nudge. Robed members of the Order of the Helix were weaving through the crowd. “Looks like
we’ll have more than military to deal with.”
“Where’s that human of yours?” Brelan wondered irritably.
“He’s not
mine
. And he’s —Hang on. There he is.”
Pepperdyne came into sight. He was wearing the stolen officer’s uniform that had served them well on previous missions. Coilla
and two members of the Vixens were with him, walking a couple of paces behind, as though being led.
“The females should be shackled,” Brelan said. “It’d look more convincing.”
“Even Acurial’s tame orcs might find that hard to swallow. Unless you want this crowd tearing him to pieces.”
“Granted. Though I never thought I wouldn’t want that to happen to a human. It’s time to set things in motion, Stryke.”
Stryke nodded, then raised a cupped hand to his mouth, as though stifling a cough. The other nearby Wolverines, watching for
it, began passing the signal on. Brelan did the same with his resistance members. The unspoken order passed through the crowd.