10
'So you have control of the instrumentalities?' Jup said.
'Some,' Stryke replied. 'Only because of this.' He brought out the amulet.
'Can I see it?'
Stryke looped the chain over his head and handed it to him.
Jup examined it, absently tugging at his beard. 'I've never come across anything quite like this script before.'
'Nor me. But it's what got us here.'
Jup gave the amulet back. 'What about the influence the stars have? You know, the way they… What's the word? The way they captivated you, and Haskeer. Doesn't that worry you?'
'What's life without a few risks?'
'You can't brush it off, Stryke.'
'No. Coilla's looking after one. I thought breaking them up might weaken their power.'
' You, loosening your grip?' He smiled. 'But no, it's a good idea.'
They glanced to where she was standing, further along the row of oak benches.
The tables were set out in tiers in an even larger clearing than the one they first entered. It held a village of thatched huts, storage sheds and livestock pens. Fires had been lit in several shallow pits, to keep the unseasonable chill at bay and to roast meat.
Hospitality had been extended to the orcs once Jup insisted they were honoured guests. But many of the dwarfs appeared grudging. Now most sat apart, eyeing the Wolverines suspiciously.
Haskeer came and plonked himself down next to Stryke and Jup.
'And how are you, you old bastard?' Jup said.
'Hungry.' He fidgeted. 'And these seats are too small.'
'They weren't made for a massive rear end like yours. Ah, how I've missed that scowl. You know, I can't get used to you all without your tattoos of rank. Looks odd. How'd you get rid of them?'
'A sawbones back in Ceragan,' Stryke explained. 'He used some kind of vitriol. Stung like fury, took an age to heal.'
'Then itched like buggery for a month,' Haskeer added. 'Worth it though. Shows we're nobody's slaves.' He stared at the struck-through crescents high on Jup's cheeks that indicated his one-time status as sergeant. 'You should lose yours, too. Like me to cut 'em out for you?' He made to reach for his knife.
'Don't think I'll bother, thanks. They give me a certain distinction around here.'
'Really?' Stryke said. 'I'd have thought being in Jennesta's horde wasn't something to brag about.'
'Not everybody saw her as the evil bitch we knew and hated. And that's something else I can't get my head around: her surviving that… vortex thing.'
'Seems she did. If Serapheim's to be believed.'
'Big if.'
A dwarf arrived with tankards and deposited them on the bench without a word. Haskeer snatched one and gulped a long draught.
Stryke took a drink himself. 'Strange to think,' he reflected, lowering his tankard, 'that if it hadn't been for Jennesta we'd never have known about Ceragan. I wouldn't have met Thirzarr and sired young.'
'You have hatchlings?' Jup said.
'Two. Boys.'
'Things have changed.'
'And like I said, if Jennesta hadn't sent us after that first star — '
Haskeer slammed down his tankard. 'We don't owe her a fucking thing. Whatever we got was our due.'
Jup nodded. 'Much as I hate to agree with latrine breath here, that's how I see it, too. It seems a fair exchange for all the grief she doled out. Talking of Ceragan…' He looked about the clearing. 'I see some new faces, and the absence of others.'
'The two are linked,' Haskeer muttered darkly. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Wheam and Dallog.
'Take no notice of him,' Coilla said, arriving to claim a seat.
'When did I ever?'
She lifted a tankard. 'Hmm. Potent stuff.'
'We pride ourselves on our brew.'
Coilla had another mouthful, then remarked in a lower tone, 'Your folk take their gods a bit seriously, don't they?'
'Some do. More so since things really started to fall apart. Religious zeal's got even stronger in Maras-Dantia while you were away, and not just among humans.'
'We met a bunch of elves on the way here. They reckoned humans are going to be the end of the elder races.'
'I might have argued against that once. I'm not so sure they're wrong now fanatics have the whip hand.'
Coilla snapped her fingers. 'Fanatics. Of course. It was her!'
'Who?'
'The female I saw when we took those humans' horses.'
'What about her?' Stryke said.
'I thought she looked familiar. It was Mercy Hobrow. That lunatic Kimball Hobrow's daughter. Grown up now, but still recognisable.'
Jup expelled a low whistle. 'You had a lucky escape then. She's as crazy as her old man, and she's carried on his work. Her group's a rallying point for Unis, and she's got an army of followers even bigger than her father's. They're a scourge in these parts.'
'And we've given her another grudge against us,' Stryke observed.
'You'd be well advised to steer clear of her in future.'
'We don't intend being here that long. But talking of fathers and daughters, Jup, I meant to ask; last we saw of you, you were getting Sanara out of the palace in Illex. What happened to her?'
'Good question. Jennesta's army was in chaos, and these helped us get through.' He pointed at his tattoos. 'Then we were days crossing the ice fields. The woman was tough, I can tell you that. When we got down to the plains… well, I didn't lose her, exactly. But she went. Don't ask me how. She was there one minute, gone the next.'
'Fucking magic-mongers,' Haskeer grumbled. 'Slippery as spilt guts.'
'Anyway,' Jup finished, 'I gave up looking for her and made my way here. Haven't seen her since.'
'Quite a family, eh?' Coilla said. 'Serapheim and his brood.'
Dwarfs were heading their way carrying wooden trenchers heaped with steaming meat.
Stryke nudged Haskeer. 'Looks like your belly's about to stop rumbling.'
'Sorry if it's less than a feast,' Jup stated apologetically. 'The forest doesn't bring the yield it once did, and game's scarce.'
Wheam and Dallog wandered over.
'Mind if we join you?' Dallog asked.
'If you must,' Haskeer grated.
Coilla shot him a hard look. 'Course. Park yourselves.'
Platters of spiced roast meat were set down on the table, along with baskets of warm bread. There were dishes of berries and nuts.
'You don't know how welcome this is after field rations,' Stryke said.
'Hmmph,' Wheam agreed, mouth full. 'Food good.'
'We're grateful,' Coilla put in, 'especially with hunting so poor.' She jabbed Haskeer's ribs with her elbow. '
