“It was the best idea,” she repeated deliberately.
“Yeah, right.”
“If you’ve got some kind of beef, Haskeer, let’s hear it.”
“I’m not keen on humans having a hand in how this band’s run.”
“I haven’t,” Pepperdyne told him. “I was just trying to help.”
“And a fat lot of good that turned out. We don’t need your help. So why don’t you-”
“ Shut it,” Stryke warned, his tone ominous. “We’re all in this together, and I’ll have no bickering.”
“Now you’re taking his part,” Haskeer grumbled.
“I said shut… it. There’ll be no indiscipline in this band. And if anybody thinks otherwise they can step up now.”
Haskeer looked as though he just might, except they were interrupted by a shout from Nep at the tree top.
“What?” Stryke bellowed back.
“The ships! They’ve gone!”
“Which?”
“All but ours!”
Stryke signalled for him to come down.
“So Jennesta has left the island,” Jup said.
“And that other bunch too, by the sound of it,” Spurral put in.
“Shit,” Haskeer grated through clenched teeth.
“ Now what do we do?” Coilla said.
2
The Gateway Corps ship had sailed beyond sight of the dwarfs’ island. But the Corps elf commander, Pelli Madayar, who had taken the wheel herself, was uncertain which course to set. For that, she looked to her goblin second-in-command, Weevan-Jirst. He was gazing at a plump, gleaming gem nestling in his palm.
“Anything?” Pelli asked.
“Nothing.”
“Take the wheel. I’ll try.”
They swapped places. She warmed the gem in her hand, then stared hard at it. Its swirling surface was cloudy.
“Is something wrong with it?” Weevan-Jirst asked in the rasping timbre peculiar to his race.
“There shouldn’t be, given the quality of its magic. I’ll check.”
“How?”
Pelli was aware that although high in the Corps’ magical hierarchy, her deputy still had a lot to learn. “By comparing it with a set of instrumentalities we already know about,” she explained.
“Those held by the orc warband?”
She nodded. “You’re aware that each set of artefacts has its own unique signature; what some call its song. We know the tempo of the ones the Wolverines have. I’ll see if I can attune to them. One moment.” Face creased in concentration, she softly recited the necessary spell. At length she said, “There,” and showed him the gem.
Images had appeared on its facade. They were arcane, and continuously shifting, but to adepts their meaning was plain.
“The orcs’ instrumentalities,” Weevan-Jirst interpreted, “on the isle of dwarfs.”
“Yes. Which confirms that the fault doesn’t lie in our method of detection.”
“I see that. So why can’t we trace the artefacts Jennesta has?”
“Because I’m now certain that she’s done something unprecedented, or at least extremely rare. The instrumentalities she’s using are copies, presumably taken from the originals the orcs have. Their emanations are unlike those given off by the genuine articles, which is why we’re finding it difficult to track them.”
“Copies? That would be a remarkable achievement.”
“Oh, yes. There’s no doubting her extraordinary magical talent. Moreover, I believe she’s also tampered with the originals in some way, giving her a measure of control over them.”
“Which would explain the erratic way the Wolverines were world-hopping before arriving in this one.”
“Indeed it would. She’s toying with them.”
“But I’m puzzled.”
“How so?”
“Our mission is to retrieve the orcs’ instrumentalities, and we know where they are. So why have we left them behind on the island?”
“We now have not one, but two sets of instrumentalities in irresponsible hands. And Jennesta’s ability to duplicate them is potentially catastrophic. Imagine dozens, scores, hundreds of instrumentalities in circulation. The Corps could never control a situation like that.”
“It doesn’t bear thinking about,” Weevan-Jirst agreed gravely.
“We’ve two options. We can go back to the island to tackle the orcs again, and run the risk of losing Jennesta for ever. Or we concentrate on her, knowing we can find the orcs as long as they have the artefacts, which they’re unlikely to part with.”
“We don’t know where she is.”
“I think we can find out by recalibrating our detection methods on the basis that her instrumentalities are copies.”
“Is that possible?”
“In theory. Only it might take a little while. But there’s something else that could work to our advantage. Jennesta has Stryke’s mate, and we can almost certainly count on him pursuing her too. With luck, we’ll be able to bag both sets at the same time.”
“How will they know where she’s gone?”
“Don’t underestimate how tenacious a race the orcs are. I’d put a large wager on them working it out.”
The goblin looked doubtful. “Isn’t this deviating from our orders?”
“I have autonomy in the field, to a degree.”
“Yes,” he hissed, “ to a degree. Are you going to consult higher authority?”
“Karrell Revers? No. At least, not yet.”
“Can I ask why not?”
“I have total respect for his judgement, but he’s not here.”
“You mean he’d likely order you to stick to our original mission.”
“Probably. And we’d lose precious time while the situation’s debated on homeworld.” She gave him a concerned look. “Of course, I appreciate that you might be unhappy with my plan. But I’ll take full responsibility for-”
“I’ll be glad to abide by any decision you make, Pelli. For the time being.”
She decided not to pursue that comment. “Thank you. Meantime, we have something else to attend to.” She looked along the deck. The bodies of three of their comrades were laid out, wrapped in bloody sheets. “Then we have a score to settle with Jennesta.”
There were dead on Jennesta’s ship too. Some walked and breathed, after a fashion. Others would never do either again.
Several of the latter were being pitched overboard by a party of the former.
The corpses being disposed of were dwarfs, broken and bloodied following Jennesta’s creative interrogation methods. Apart from mundane necessity, the fate of the discarded cadavers had the additional effect of chastening her followers. But although Jennesta embraced, indeed revelled in the appellation tyrant, she was coming to understand the value of tempering stick with carrot when it came to her subordinates’ loyalty. This took several forms. The promise of power and riches under her dominion was one way. Another was the dispensing of pleasure, her sorcery being capable of conferring sensations of wellbeing, even ecstasy, as readily as terror.
