'That doesn't seem to have worried you up to now.'
'We still want revenge on Jennesta,' Standeven hastily interjected. 'But she's dangerous.'
'You're telling us,' Coilla said.
Stryke fixed the humans with a steady gaze. 'There's something I've been meaning to ask you two. When we ran into you, you said you were seeking Jennesta because she stole your consignment of… gems, was it?'
'That's right,' Standeven confirmed.
'But we know she hadn't been in Maras-Dantia for years. Why'd it take you so long to go after her?'
'It's a big world,' Pepperdyne replied. 'Well, the one we came from was.' He shook his head, as though clearing it. 'You know what I mean. It takes time to mount an expedition, and money. My master here had to recruit a small private army, then we travelled across continents and — '
'Seems to me you do a lot of talking for an aide, or servant or whatever you are. Why can't your master speak for himself?'
'He always had a silver tongue,' Standeven explained awkwardly. 'I often said he was capable of striking a better deal than I could myself. The words come more naturally to him.'
Haskeer eyed Pepperdyne suspiciously. 'You weren't a bloody wordsmith, were you? I hate the bastards. Making up stupid stories about us, branding us villains. According to them we're built like brick privies and hate the light. They say we eat babies, and everybody knows we only take human flesh when there's nothing else.'
'No, I'm not a storyteller.'
'Don't go spreading that talk outside the band, Haskeer,' Stryke warned. 'The orcs in these parts wouldn't understand it. Let's not give them more reasons to see us as different.' He turned back to the humans. 'I don't know about you pair. But just don't make the mistake of thinking we're fools.'
'Wouldn't dream of it,' Pepperdyne replied coolly.
'You're being too hard, Stryke,' Coilla protested. 'I owe Pepperdyne my life. He's proved himself.' It wasn't lost on any of them that she left Standeven out of her reckoning.
'Maybe,' Stryke said. 'We'll see.'
'Now do you mind if we eat?' Pepperdyne asked. Without waiting for an answer he headed for the door, Standeven at his heels.
Once it slammed, Coilla tackled Stryke with, 'Why are you so hostile to them all of a sudden?'
'I got to thinking about their story, and it doesn't stack up. Pepperdyne might be straight, but the other one…'
'Yeah, well, no argument there. But I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Jode.'
'Jode?'
'You tend to feel pally to somebody who saves your neck.'
'Never thought I'd see the day when you'd count a human as a friend.'
'Just go easy on him, all right? He's been useful to us.'
Stryke looked to the others present, and Jup caught his eye. 'You've not said much, Sergeant.'
'About the humans? I've no opinion, beyond not trusting the race much.'
'More than that's ailing you,' Spurral said, slipping an arm round his waist. 'You've been morose for days. Spit it out.'
'Well… I'm not likely to play a part in the assassination, am I? Or anything else going on for that matter. It's not as though I can go out dressed as a female.'
'Why not?' Haskeer ribbed. 'It'd suit you.'
'Shut it, Haskeer,' Jup retorted. 'I'm not in the mood.'
'I know it's hard on you,' Stryke told him, 'but your time will come.'
'And when's that going to be?'
'There's something you could do tonight.'
Jup perked up. 'There is?'
'How about a little after hours mission? Part of the harrying.'
'What did you have in mind?'
'I thought we might pick a fight. Are you game?'
24
Taress' night-time streets should have been deserted save for patrols enforcing the curfew. But others were abroad.
A group of figures moved stealthily through the capital, slipping from one pool of shadow to the next.
They were ten in number, and Stryke had kept it a strictly Wolverine affair. He led the pack, with Coilla, Jup and Haskeer close behind; Orbon, Zoda, Prooq, Reafdaw, Finje and Noskaa brought up the rear.
Across cobbled lanes and along twisting alleys, the band made its way to a district that would have swarmed with citizens during daylight. Only once did they come close to a watch patrol, a squad of some two dozen uniformed and robed men illuminating their path with lanterns that gave off a violet glow so intense it could only be magical. The Wolverines hid until they passed, pressed into door spaces and the black mouths of narrow passageways.
At length they came to a broad avenue made desolate by the absence of life or movement. Only a gentle breeze disturbed the balmy summer air.
Using the corner of one of the larger buildings as cover, they peered round at their target. Situated on the opposite side of the road, it was a simple one-storey, brick-built structure, typical of many such scattered throughout the city. Serving as both a guard station and barracks, it had a single, robust door and slit windows. To one side stood a hitching rail where four of five horses were tied up. A pair of guards were stationed outside the building's entrance.
'What do you think?' Stryke whispered.
'We've taken better places drunk,' Jup reckoned. 'Know how many are inside?'
Stryke shook his head. 'No idea.' He looked to Coilla. 'You all right with this?'
'Sure.'
He checked that the others were ready. 'Then go.'
Coilla stepped out from their hiding place and sprinted towards the guard post.
The sentries didn't see her at first. As soon as they did, they instantly bucked up and drew their weapons.
Coilla began to yell. 'Help! Help me! Please help!'
That threw the guards. They exchanged perplexed looks, and though they kept a defensive stance, it was half-hearted.
Coilla carried on running, still shouting, and waved her arms about in what she hoped was a helpless female kind of way. The sentries stared at her.
Stryke barked an order. Two grunts rushed forward, their bows nocked. Coilla dropped and hugged the ground.
Arrows smacked into the guards. They went down.
As Coilla scrambled to her feet the guardhouse door flew open. Alerted by the commotion, men poured out. Many were minus their tunics or otherwise had their dress in disarray, having been off duty. But they had swords. Coilla drew her own and, bellowing, ran in their direction.
Her war cry was taken up by the Wolverines. Spilling from their hiding place, they charged.
Coilla reached the foremost of the troopers. He made the mistake of trying to bring her down with a tackle. She relied on her sword. As he dived at her, she lashed out, raking his torso. When he doubled, she drove her blade into his back.
A second man immediately moved in. Mindful of the fate of the first, he advanced warily. Coilla powered into him and their blades clashed. An exchange of blows ensued, the pealing of steel on steel echoing through the silent night. His swordplay had a certain finesse. Coilla had the edge in savagery. Knocking aside his incoming sword, she exploited the breach and punctured his lung.
