Chillder backed that with, 'Hear, hear.'
Brelan was silent for a moment, and seemed to be mulling over Coilla's words. Then he said, 'They couldn't fight alongside the males. Their lack of skill would endanger them.'
Coilla nodded. 'That's what I thought. So why not let me put together an all-female band? Not to fetch and carry for you males, but to fight in their own right.'
Chillder smiled. 'It gets my vote.'
'I hope you'd be a part of it; and you, Spurral.'
'Why not?' Brelan conceded. 'If it helps the cause — '
'Good. There must be twenty or thirty females here who could form a warband.'
'You should ask Wheam to join,' Haskeer muttered.
'What did he say?' Brelan asked.
'Ignore him,' Coilla said, aiming a glare at Haskeer.
'All right then, we'll make a start in the morning,' Chillder promised.
Things wound down after that. One by one, the diners drifted from the table to find somewhere to sleep. Stryke and Coilla felt need of air, and slipped out of the farmhouse. They propped themselves against a fence rail, well away from the patrolling guards.
'You look troubled,' she said.
'I don't like lying to these orcs. About who we are, where we're from, why we're here…'
'You think they'd find the truth more to their taste?'
'Hell, no. They'd probably burn us at the stake.'
'So you're doing the right thing. Just like Spurral did back there, denying dwarfs had any magical powers. They're not ready for the truth, however let down Chillder seemed.'
'Maybe.'
'Everything's on its head here. I mean, now we know why the humans haven't despoiled this place the way they did Maras-Dantia. They understand that the magic depends on the land staying hearty.'
'They'll find another way of fucking things up.'
'That's for sure.' She turned to look at him. 'I thought you might have been ticked off with me.'
'Why should I be?'
'This idea of a female warband. I should have asked you first. But just in the short time we've been here I've got crabby about the bullshit. You know, they call themselves civilised, but don't seem so damned civilised when it comes to females doing their bit.'
'Don't be too hard on them. They've lost touch with their roots, with what it means to be an orc. And no, I don't mind. Whatever gives the humans a kick in the arse is fine by me.'
' Good. I even thought of a name for the band. We're the Wolverines; I thought they could be the Vixens.'
He smiled. 'Sounds fitting.'
'But we're dodging the main issue.'
'Which is?'
'Jennesta. There's no sign of her. And she's why we're here, isn't she?'
'Part of it.'
'You saying we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the chance to settle with her once and for all?'
'No. But we've barely seen Taress yet. Jennesta's not likely to be strolling around unprotected.'
'Getting even with her is why most of the band signed on for this mission. You shouldn't forget that.'
'I won't.'
'And it's all about a grudge for Pepperdyne and Standeven, too. They say.'
'That's another bucket of worms.'
'We're getting in deep here, Stryke. In more than one way.'
He raised a finger to his lips and nodded towards the farmhouse.
Brelan was heading their way.
'There you are,' he said.
'I'm glad to have you without the others around,' Stryke told him. 'About that punch I threw at you — '
Brelan rubbed his chin, as though still stinging from the blow. 'I got the message. But that's done. I'm not here to go over it. We've had news.'
'What is it?'
'Seems an emissary of some kind's about to arrive from Peczan.'
'So?'
'The word is this isn't some lowly bureaucrat. They're high up. Important. And it's causing quite a stir among the governor's staff and the garrison.'
'How do you know this?'
'Not all orcs want to fight, but some of them are happy to pass on intelligence. This came down the line from servants in Hacher's headquarters.'
'So if we could get at whoever it is — '
'Perhaps. Or stage something that makes Hacher look inept in their eyes. Either way, with your help, we might be able to strike a blow.'
'And you've no idea who this envoy is, or how much power they wield?'
'None. Except that as far as Hacher's concerned, their coming doesn't bode well.'
'Yes,' Coilla said, 'but for who?'
18
The orcs of Acurial, and especially of Taress, were accustomed to having the military hammer on their doors at dawn. Usually it was a prelude to being locked up, tortured or summarily executed. Or perhaps to be forced to witness the execution of others. Sometimes it was part of a collective punishment for a real or imagined defiance of the occupiers' will; the citizenry made to watch as their homes burned, their cattle were slaughtered and their fields sown with salt.
It was much rarer for them to be turfed from their beds to line the streets. To be issued with pennants bearing the colours of their conquerors' nation and compelled to acclaim a visiting dignitary.
Most singular of all was to have the object of their ersatz approval gallop past at speed in a black carriage with its windows shuttered against curious eyes.
The carriage, accompanied by an entourage of similarly impenetrable vehicles and an honour guard of hard- faced elite troopers, made its way to the fortress at the centre of the city. As soon as it entered, the gates were hastily secured.
Near the castle's apex, in Kapple Hacher's eyrie, the governor awaited his guest.
As ever, he was outwardly calm. The sorcerer Grentor, who stood at his side, was less so.
'Tell me, Governor,' Grentor said, toying nervously with a string of worry beads, 'have you met our guest before?'
'I have. In Peczan.'
'And your impression?'
'I think… profound would be an appropriate word. And you, Brother? Have you been in the presence?'
'No. Although our visitor is technically the head of our Order, I've never had that pleasure.'
'Pleasure is a word you might wish to reconsider.'
'How so?'
There was a knock at the door.
'Come!' Hacher called.
His aide, Frynt, entered. 'They're here, sir.' He was breathless.
'You seem flustered,' Hacher said. 'I take it you've had sight of our guest.'
'Yes, sir. The party's on its way up.'
