22
'Well, here we go,' Coilla said, adding a hatchet to her other concealed weapons. She wrapped a shawl about her shoulders.
'Think this is going to work?' Pepperdyne asked.
'A human and a bunch of orc females? We can't fail to get in.'
'Never did get the stain completely out of this.' He licked his fingers and rubbed at the front of his stolen uniform tunic.
'Stop fussing, it's all right.'
'We've pulled this trick once before. Are they going to fall for it again?'
'I'm counting on them thinking we wouldn't try it twice.'
'And if you're wrong?'
'Then they'll find they've got more than feeble menials to deal with.'
His expression turned sombre. 'You're trusting me with a lot, you know.'
'You've shown yourself as upright before. You going to change now?'
'I'm one of their kind, when all's said and done. The enemy.'
'Don't sweat it. If I think you're up to anything, I'll kill you.' She smiled pleasantly.
'Let's move,' he said.
The Vixens occupied two open wagons. Coilla and Pepperdyne climbed aboard the first, he taking the driver's seat. Spurral sat at the back, near the centre, wedged between a pair of females, a generous headscarf hiding her features. Like all the Vixens, she wore drab workers' clothing. Brelan drove the second wagon.
For a settlement founded by orcs, Taress was arranged along surprisingly organised lines, at least at its heart. Most of what a city needed to function — the storage and distribution of supplies, the provision of drinking water, the housing of livestock and so on — had its own quarter. Since the invasion, the humans had added another, to direct the running of their colony. It was to this sector that the wagons headed.
Orc labourers were still repairing damage caused by the stampede. Under the cold watchfulness of human overseers, trees were being hauled away and walls rebuilt. Gangs of workers shovelled debris into fleets of drays.
The Vixens' journey was short, but not without risks. There were roadblocks to negotiate. The first, at the main thoroughfare leading into the administrative sector, was the most formidable. A guard-post stood on one side, and the road was sealed with a timber blockade. Sentries were out in strength.
The pair of wagons joined a queue of vehicles waiting to be let in. A couple were orc merchants' carts. There were several carriages bearing humans with an officious look; and a gig occupied by a woman who could have been an officer's wife, riding next to a beefy driver. The line was made up with a handful of men on horseback, mostly uniformed.
'They seem to be waving the humans through quicker,' Pepperdyne whispered.
' Course they are,' Coilla replied. 'What'd you expect? But don't count on it being the same for us.'
They finally reached the head of the queue. A sergeant stepped forward, saw Pepperdyne's rank insignia and saluted. If he noticed the ominous stain on the phoney officer's jacket, he gave no sign.
He held out a calloused hand. 'Your papers, sir?'
Pepperdyne gave him a folded sheet of parchment.
The sergeant studied it, paying particular attention to the seal. He nodded at the wagons' passengers. 'Who are they?'
'Clean-up detail,' Pepperdyne said.
'For where, sir?'
'Bureau of Tallies.'
The sergeant moved along the side of the wagon and looked in. All the females kept their heads bowed submissively. Several held wooden pails on their laps. Brooms, scrubbing brushes and other tools were laid on the deck. He walked to the second wagon and gave that a cursory once-over too. Then he sauntered back to Pepperdyne.
Coilla eyed the sergeant's jugular and fingered a concealed knife, just in case. He caught her look, read it as simple impertinence and glared at her. She dropped her gaze and tried for passive.
'Need any help keeping 'em in order, sir?' the sergeant asked Pepperdyne. 'I could spare a couple of troopers to go with you.'
'To mind these bitches? Waste of manpower. This lot are meek as cows.'
The sergeant glanced at the orcs and grinned. 'Take your point.' He handed back the parchment, then waved them on.
A safe distance later, Coilla turned to Pepperdyne and hissed, 'Bitches? Cows? '
'It's what they expected to hear.'
'You could have put a bit less bile into it.'
'Just playing my part.' He stuffed the parchment into his pocket.
'You humans have a high regard for your pieces of paper.'
'Too much, if that sergeant's anything to go by. It's not a very good forgery.'
'Good enough. It got us through.'
'Don't relax yet. We'll have to show it again soon.'
The second roadblock was less imposing. It consisted of a farm cart barring the way and a small company of troopers. Perhaps because the wagons had already passed the first checkpoint, scrutiny was casual. The counterfeit papers were given a token examination, and once a lone guard had made a lacklustre inspection of the passengers, the Vixens were let through.
They didn't have to do more than slow down at the third and final roadblock. An apathetic soldier barely looked up from his dice game to signal for them to keep moving.
'That went sweetly,' Coilla said.
'Let's hope it's as easy getting out. Assuming we live long enough.'
Coilla glanced over her shoulder to see how Brelan was doing on the second wagon. He gave her a cautious nod, working to keep a neutral expression on his face.
Being a restricted quarter, the streets were less crowded than the rest of Taress, and there were more uniforms about. Knots of troopers stood at crossroads and patrols walked the footpaths. Guardposts decorated the roadside.
As they passed, the occupants of the wagons drew stares. Most were dutiful, or idly curious, but it was attention they could have done without.
'This is uncomfortable,' Pepperdyne complained.
'Just look as though you've a right to be here. It's not far now.'
There were new buildings in the neighbourhood, erected by the invaders at the expense of older structures they requisitioned and tore down. It was to one of these that the wagons were bound.
They saw their goal as they turned into the district's core. In common with many of the buildings put up by the conquerors, hurriedly assembled in the early days of the occupation, it was functional rather than attractive. Standing back from the road, behind a tall iron fence, it was fashioned from plain stone slabs with few windows, set high. It looked robust enough to withstand an all-out assault.
The wagons halted at the gate. While they waited for a pair of guards to amble over to them, Pepperdyne beckoned Brelan. He climbed down.
'You're sure you've stopped the cleaning squad they're expecting?' Pepperdyne asked.
Brelan nodded. 'They're being delayed by a fake accident a dozen blocks from here.'
'Won't these humans be able to tell the difference when a new lot of faces turn up?' Coilla wondered.
'They can't tell us apart. Any more than we can them.'
'What about him?' Coilla jabbed her thumb at Pepperdyne. 'They'll know he's different.'
'These details don't always have the same escort.' He sounded a little exasperated. 'We've been over this a thousand — '
