A well-used road led to a pair of huge gates that served as Trinity’s main entrance. They were closed. The township was surrounded by fields of crops so extensive they almost reached the band’s hiding place. But the yield looked frail and stunted.
“Now we know what they need all that water for,” Coilla said.
“For all the good it does them,” Jup replied. “Look at how mean the crops are. These humans are stupid. They can’t see that messing with the earth magic affects them as well as us.”
“How in damnation are we going to approach the place, Stryke?” Alfray wanted to know. “Let alone get in?”
“We might have one piece of luck on our side. We haven’t seen any humans yet. Most of them were probably drawn to the battle at Weaver’s Lea.”
“But they wouldn’t have left the settlement undefended, would they?” Coilla reminded him. “And if most of the population
is
there, they’ll be back at some point.”
“I meant it might help, not that it solved our problem.”
“So what to do?” Jup wondered.
“We scout for somewhere to hide and make a base camp. Coilla, take three grunts and work your way on foot around the township left to right. Jup, pick your three and do the same the other way. Note anything that’ll do as a hiding place, and remember it has to be suitable for the horses as well as us. Got that?”
They nodded and moved off to obey their orders.
Stryke looked to Alfray. “How’s Haskeer?”
“About the same.”
“Trust the bastard to make a nuisance of himself even when he’s unconscious. Do what you can for him.” He turned to the remainder of the band. “The rest of you keep yourselves alert and combat-ready.”
They settled down to watch and wait.
“I’m not sure about this,” Jup whispered.
Concealed by bushes, they stared over at the yawning tunnel mouth cut into the bluff.
“What worries me is that there’s only the one entrance,” Alfray said, “and I don’t know how spooked the horses might be in there.”
“It’s all we could come up with,” Coilla repeated, a little exasperated.
“Coilla’s right,” Stryke decided. “We’ll have to make the best of it. Are you
sure
it’s disused?”
She nodded. “A couple of the grunts went quite a way in. It’s been abandoned.”
“We’d be rats in a trap if the humans knew we were hiding there,” Jup opined.
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Stryke told him. He checked that the way was clear. “Right, get in there fast. Horses first.”
The band swept over to the mine-shaft entrance. Not all the horses went into the black maw willingly and had to be forced the last few yards.
Inside it was dank and much cooler than the open air.
The daylight let them see dimly perhaps thirty paces along the tunnel, at which point it became lower and narrower. After that, all was pitch darkness.
“We stay away from the mouth,” Stryke decreed, “and I want no lights used unless absolutely necessary.”
Coilla shivered. “I won’t be going far enough in to need one. Give me open skies any time.”
Jup touched the rough-hewn wall. “What do you think they dug this for?”
Bent over applying a damp cloth to Haskeer’s forehead, Alfray ventured, “Gold, probably. Or some other of the earth’s booty they think precious.”
“I’ve seen this kind of thing before,” Jup said, tapping some stones with the tip of his boot. “I reckon they were going for the black rocks they burn as fuel. Wonder how long it took them to exhaust the seam?”
“Not very, knowing humans,” Coilla suggested. “And I think you’re right, Jup. I’d heard that Trinity was founded here because there’s so much of the black rock to be dug in these parts.”
“Again the land is raped,” Jup muttered. “We should have breached that dam and given them something to think about.”
“We would have had a job doing it,” Stryke told him. “An army would be hard put to bring it down. But that’s not our concern at the moment. What we need to do is find Trinity’s weak point.”
“If it has one.”
“We won’t find out sitting here, Jup.”
“So what’s your plan?” Coilla asked.
“One thing we need to avoid is having too big a group of us out there, particularly in daylight. So I want to take a look around myself, along with you and Jup.”
Coilla nodded. “Suits me fine. I’m not keen on living like a troglodyte.”
“The rest will stay here, out of sight,” Stryke ordered. “Post a couple of guards, Alfray, and one or two more out there in the undergrowth, to warn of anyone approaching. And try to keep those horses quiet. Come on, you two.”
Coilla and Jup followed him from the shaft.
They darted for the first available cover and headed in the direction of the township. Moving cautiously for perhaps half a mile, keeping low, they were going through one of the cultivated fields when Coilla grabbed Stryke’s arm.
“Down!”
she hissed, tugging him groundward.
The trio burrowed into the corn. Twenty yards away stood the first humans they’d seen at Trinity. A small group of women, dressed simply and mostly in black, were working in an adjacent field. They were picking a crop of some kind, loading the harvest into baskets borne by mules. Two armed men, bearded and also black-garbed, stood guard as the women worked.
A finger to his lips, Stryke motioned Coilla and Jup to follow him. Their route took them quietly around the toilers. Several more detours then proved necessary to avoid other heads they spotted bobbing above the crops.
Crawling on their hands and knees, they came unexpectedly to a track of compacted earth with a shingle surface. Peeping out from the shelter of the corn, they realised it was the road leading to Trinity’s gates. As there were no humans in sight in the fields opposite, they prepared to cross. Coilla was about to lead off when they heard the rumble of approaching wagons. They ducked back and watched.
A procession of vehicles came into view. The first was an open carriage, drawn by a pair of fine white mares. In the front sat the driver and another human, both heavily armed, both dressed in black. There were two other people in the back. Again, both wore black. One was obviously another guard, this time armed with a bow. But the man sitting next to him, on a higher seat, was the most arresting.
He was the only one wearing a hat, a tall, black piece of headgear that Stryke thought was called a stovepipe. Even seated it was obvious that the man was tall, and his build was thin and wiry. He had a weathered face ending in a pointed chin adorned with greying whiskers. The mouth was a thin, featureless slit, the eyes dark and intense. It was a forceful face, unaccustomed to smiling.
The carriage passed.
It was followed by three wagons drawn by teams of oxen. Each wagon was steered by a black-garbed human, with an accompanying guard. The wagons carried passengers, so crammed there was standing room only. All were dwarves.
Stryke noticed Jup’s preoccupied reaction to this as the wagons trundled on toward the township’s gates.
Jup let out a breath. “Imagine what Haskeer would have made of
that
.”
“They weren’t prisoners, were they?” Coilla said.
Stryke shook his head. “I’d say they were working parties. What interests me more is that human in the back of the carriage.”
“Hobrow?”
“He certainly had the bearing of a leader, Coilla.”
“And dead-fish eyes,” Jup added.
They watched the convoy’s procession to the gates. Guards appeared at the top of the township’s wall. The gates swung slowly open, affording a brief glimpse of the scene within as the carriage and wagons entered. Then the gates were pushed shut again. They heard the sound of a weighty crossbar being dropped into place.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Jup announced. “Our way in.”
Stryke missed his point. “What do you mean?”
“Do I have to spell it out? They’re using dwarves in there. I’m a dwarf.”
“That’s a risky plan, Jup,” Coilla responded.
“Can you think of a better one?”
“Even if we could get you in,” Stryke said, “what would you expect to achieve?”
“I’d gather information. Check the layout and defences. Maybe even get some idea where they keep the star.”
“Assuming Mobbs was right about them having one,” Coilla reminded him.
“We’ll never find out unless we get somebody in there.”
“We don’t know what kind of security they have,” Stryke pointed out. “Suppose all the dwarf workers are known to them?”
“Or known to each other,” Coilla put in. “How would they react to a stranger in their ranks?”
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be dangerous,” Jup stated. “But I think it’s fair to assume that the humans are unlikely to know the dwarves by name. Everything I’ve heard about this place, and everything we know about humans, tells me they’ve nothing but contempt for the elder races. I can’t see them bothering to learn names.”
Coilla frowned. “That’s a big assumption.”
“It’s a chance to be taken. The other thing, about the dwarves themselves noticing a stranger, might not be such a problem. You see, those dwarves were from at least four different tribes.”
“How do you know?” Stryke wondered.
“The way they dress, mostly. Neckerchiefs of certain colours, a particular cut of jerkin, and so on. They all indicate a tribal origin.”
“What are the signs you wear to indicate your tribe?” Coilla said.
“I don’t. You have to get rid of them when you go into Jennesta’s service. That’s so there’s no problem identifying our allegiance. But I can easily put that right.”
Stryke was still doubtful. “It’s an awful lot of if’s and maybe’s, Jup.”
“Sure, and I haven’t mentioned the toughest problem yet. They must have
some
kind of security here as far as workers coming and going is concerned. Probably a simple head-count.”
“Which means we couldn’t just mix you in with the other dwarves. Assuming we could find a way of doing it.”
“Right. I’d have to be
swapped
for one of them.”
Coilla gave him a quizzical look. “How the hell are we going to do that?”
“Offhand, I don’t know. But if we can, there are a couple of things in our favour. First, I don’t think a new face would arouse too much suspicion as far as the other dwarves are concerned, because they’re being drawn from different tribes. Second, the humans can’t tell us apart anyway. They usually can’t when it comes to elder races, you know that.”
“And?” Coilla prompted.
“The humans wouldn’t be expecting a hostile dwarf to want to get in there.”
Stryke shook his head slowly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Jup, but your race does have a reputation for . . . blowing with the wind, let’s say. Humans know that dwarves fight for all sides.”
“No offence taken, Stryke. You know I’ve long stopped apologising for the ways of my kind. But let’s say they wouldn’t expect a
lone
dwarf to be insane enough to infiltrate the place. And remember that in some ways humans are like elder races in seeing what they expect to see. They’re using dwarves. I’m a dwarf. Hopefully they wouldn’t think much further than that.”
“Hopefully,” Coilla echoed in a slightly mocking tone. “Humans are bastards but that doesn’t make them half-wits, you know.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“So what are you going to do about your rank markings?” She pointed at the tattoos on his face.
“Garva root. You grind it up with water and add just a little clay for colouring. That’ll cover ’em, and it’s good enough to match my skin.”
“Unless anybody takes a
close
look,” Stryke said. “You’d be taking a hell of a lot of chances.”
“I know. But will you agree to the plan in principle?”
Stryke pondered it for a moment. “I can’t see another way of doing it. So . . . yes.”
Jup smiled.
Combat instinct had the three of them craning to check their surroundings. There were no humans in sight.
Coilla sounded a note of caution. “Don’t get too excited. We still have to work out the practicalities. Like how we’ll swap you for one of the workers.”
“Any ideas?” Stryke asked.
“Well, assuming the dwarves are brought in and out every day, and that’s a big if in itself, maybe we could ambush one of those wagons. Then we’d take out a passenger and Jup could mingle with the workers in the confusion.”
“No. Too much to go wrong, and it’d alert the humans to some kind of trickery.”
“You’re right,” she conceded, “it wouldn’t work. What about you, Jup?”
“All I can think of would be to go to the source of the dwarf workers. I mean, they have to come from somewhere, and I’d bet it isn’t too far away. It wouldn’t make sense bringing them great distances. Somewhere around here there must be a village or pick-up point.”
“That makes sense,” Stryke agreed. “So to find it, we’d just have to trail those wagons the next time they leave.”
“Exactly. We’d have to do it on foot, of course, but those wagons move pretty slow.”
“Then let’s hope you’re right about the pick-up point being near.” He turned the notion over in his mind for a second. “We’ll do it. Coilla, get back to the others and tell them what’s happening. Then come back here with a couple of grunts and we’ll wait for the wagons to come out.”
“You do realise this is insane, don’t you?” she said.
“Insanity’s something we’re getting quite good at. Now go.”
She smiled thinly and snaked into the field.
The wagons carrying the dwarves left Trinity at dusk. There was no sign of the carriage this time.
Stryke, Coilla, Jup and two troopers waited for the carts to pass and get a head start, then followed, keeping low and under cover. When the fields of crops petered away they had to be more inventive in staying out of sight, but they had enough experience to manage that. Fortunately the trio of laden wagons moved ponderously enough to make trailing them no problem.
Eventually the wagons left the path and struck out across open countryside. The orcs tracked the little convoy for about two miles in the direction of the Calyparr Inlet. Just as Stryke was beginning to worry that they’d be led all the way to the inlet itself, the wagons turned into a glade and halted.