they saw her, and presented themselves stiffly. She ignored them and swept past. Her goal was at the centre of the camp, adjacent to her own tent.
Several large wooden cages stood there. They were well built, and by necessity robust. Guards were posted all around them. Two or three of Jennesta’s zombie servants were present. Trusted with simple tasks, they were pushing hunks of meat and water jugs through the slats. The captives stared at the offerings but showed scant interest in eating or drinking. Most of them were standing motionless. A few crouched in the dirt with vacant gazes, and one or two shuffled aimlessly. They came more to life, of a sort, when they noticed Jennesta approaching.
A kind of roar went up from them, part frustration, part fury, but strangely distorted, as though it should have been less muted. They became agitated, after a fashion, and moved to rattle the bars of their cages, still howling.
Jennesta raised her arms. “ Silence!”
They instantly quietened. But they obeyed without exactly being cowed, and close scrutiny might have shown a tiny hint of something like defiance in their eyes.
“Good,” she said, studying them. “They look promising.”
“Promising, ma’am?” the major ventured, shooting a nervous glance at the cage’s occupants.
“I need their fire,” she explained. “But there also has to be submission to my will. It’s a balance.”
“May I ask what use these creatures will be put to, my lady?”
“Initially, revenge,” she replied, ignoring his impertinence in querying her. “I’ve been exiled from the Peczan empire because of those terrorists in Acurial, and the Wolverines played their part in that. But it was an ill wind that’s brought me nearer to attaining my goal. There’ll be a reckoning the next time I encounter that wretched warband.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but if we’re to engage with them again we might have to consider the level of our forces. Not a few have fallen in your service. Today alone we lost-”
“I’m aware of that,” she informed him icily, and embedded in her tone was the inference that she didn’t particularly care. “But here, in front of you, is a beginning; the reinforcements to swell our ranks, more pliable and much more ferocious than those sorry efforts.” She indicated the trio of once human zombies milling near the cages.
One of them was Kapple Hacher, formerly a man of power and influence who had made the mistake of inviting Jennesta’s anger. Her contempt seemed to faintly register with him. There was the merest flicker of recognition, an echo of the dissent in the captives’ eyes. It went unnoticed.
“We’re leaving here. Now,” she announced abruptly. “Issue the orders.”
“Ma’am. And the Wolverines?” the major asked.
She glanced towards her grand tent. Its flaps were open. Inside, sitting in plain view, was Stryke’s mate, Thirzarr. Her bearing was rigid and her expression was vacant.
“The Wolverines will come to me,” Jennesta said. “And they won’t be alone.”
Pelli Madayar was in a dilemma, and plagued with uncertainty. The dilemma was how best to act in what was an increasingly complex situation. The uncertainty came from questioning her own abilities.
She was at the rail of her ship, the many races of the Gateway Corps unit busy around her. Her second-in- command, Weevan-Jirst, stood by her side.
“You’re making too much of it,” he hissed.
“Am I?”
“Your orders are simple enough: recover the instrumen-talities.”
“You make it sound simple. The reality turns out to be a lot messier.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Or is that just my elven way of looking at things?”
“Perhaps. Then again, maybe we goblins have a tendency to see events as a little too black and white.”
Pelli smiled. “That’s quite an admission.”
“One thing about being in the Corps and mixing with other races is that it exposes you to different views. But I stand by what I said. Our mission has a plain objective.”
“It did. But now there are two sets of instrumentalities, and at least one other player in this drama. Those factors increase the variables. I’m in a quandary about how to tackle the problem.”
“We have the weaponry. Resolve to use it against the orcs and that sorceress alike. And not just a mild dose, like before.”
“Again, easily said. But it doesn’t take into account the innocent casualties that could cause and-”
“It’s not for me to remind you, but what the Corps believes in and what it expects is getting back instrumentalities, whatever the cost. If that can be done without harming the blameless, well and good. But it’s not the primary consideration.”
“That’s where my doubts set in. It’s been generations since the Corps had to do anything like this, and those rules were formulated long ago.”
“That doesn’t make them wrong.”
“I think they are. Which is why I’m wondering if I’m best suited to lead this unit.” She sighed. “The way things are going, my first assignment looks like being my last.”
“Karrell Revers gave you this job because he knew you could do it. And you can, if you get over your scruples and see our work as being for the greater good.”
“So a few deaths of bystanders along the way is an acceptable price, yes, I know. I can’t accept that.”
Weevan-Jirst studied her face, his own remaining typically expressionless. “Who exactly are these bystanders?” He jabbed a lean hand at the ocean. “How many true innocents are we likely to meet on the islands out there?”
“Enough.”
“Or is it that you have sympathy for one group in particular?” It was hardly a question.
“The orcs? You know I have… not sympathy, but some regard for the fix they’re in.”
“You can’t see them as innocent.”
“I see them as unwitting.”
“Don’t forget they attacked us.”
“I don’t think that was deliberate.”
“Not deliberate? You’re talking about a savage, destructive race. One of a very few never granted membership or knowledge of the Corps.”
“Many races are maligned. There are those who would tar all goblins with the same brush because of the actions of a few.”
He nodded soberly. “I’ll grant you that.”
“So how can we be sure that what’s said about orcs is true? And even if it is, it’s the nature they were born with. Who are we to judge?”
“The Corps judges all the time. It decides who can’t have instrumentalities, and the means necessary to enforce that. Having the instrumentalities fall into the hands of a race beyond the pale like the orcs, and that sorceress, is what the Corps was set up to prevent.”
Staring at the distant horizon, again she sighed, more in resignation this time. “I suppose you’re right. There is a bigger picture. I’ll be mindful of it.”
“You will forgive me for what I am about to say. And I would not like you to think…”
She had never known him to be hesitant before. “Yes?”
“I would not like you to think that my words are inspired by anything other than making our mission a success.”
“All right. Go on.”
“Gratified as I am to hear that you intend acting more decisively, I understand this might prove… difficult for you. In that event, I would be prepared to assume leadership of this unit.”
Pelli needed a moment to take that in. “You’re challenging my command?”
“No. I’m merely stating that if you’re unable to fulfil your function I will step in.”
“That would be your duty in any event, if I were killed or badly wounded or-”
“Those aren’t the eventualities I have in mind.”
“What is?”
“Your possible reluctance to employ the force necessary when it comes to the crunch.”
