'That's a risky plan, Jup,' Coilla responded.
'Can you think of a better one?'
'Even if we could get you in,' Stryke said, 'what would you expect to achieve?'
'I'd gather information. Check the layout and defences. Maybe even get some idea where they keep the star.'
'Assuming Mobbs was right about them having one,' Coilla reminded him.
'We'll never find out unless we get somebody in there.'
'We don't know what kind of security they have,' Stryke pointed out. 'Suppose all the dwarf workers are known to them?'
'Or known to each other,' Coilla put in. 'How would they react to a stranger in their ranks?'
'I didn't say it wouldn't be dangerous,' Jup stated. 'But I think it's fair to assume that the humans are unlikely to know the dwarves by name. Everything I've heard about this place, and everything we know about humans, tells me they've nothing but contempt for the elder races. I can't see them bothering to learn names.'
Coilla frowned. 'That's a big assumption.'
'It's a chance to be taken. The other thing, about the dwarves themselves noticing a stranger, might not be such a problem. You see, those dwarves were from at least four different tribes.'
'How do you know?' Stryke wondered.
'The way they dress, mostly. Neckerchiefs of certain colours, a particular cut of jerkin, and so on. They all indicate a tribal origin.'
'What are the signs you wear to indicate your tribe?' Coilla said.
'I don't. You have to get rid of them when you go into Jennesta's service. That's so there's no problem identifying our allegiance. But I can easily put that right.'
Stryke was still doubtful. 'It's an awful lot of ifs and maybes, Jup.'
'Sure, and I haven't mentioned the toughest problem yet. They must have some kind of security here as far as workers coming and going is concerned. Probably a simple head-count.'
'Which means we couldn't just mix you in with the other dwarves. Assuming we could find a way of doing it.'
'Right. I'd have to be swapped for one of them.'
Coilla gave him a quizzical look. 'How the hell are we going to do that?'
'Offhand, I don't know. But if we can, there are a couple of things in our favour. First, I don't think a new face would arouse too much suspicion as far as the other dwarves are concerned, because they're being drawn from different tribes. Second, the humans can't tell us apart anyway. They usually can't when it comes to elder races, you know that.'
'And?' Coilla prompted.
'The humans wouldn't be expecting a hostile dwarf to want to get in there.'
Stryke shook his head slowly. 'Don't take this the wrong way, Jup, but your race does have a reputation for . . . blowing with the wind, let's say. Humans know that dwarves fight for all sides.'
'No offence taken, Stryke. You know I've long stopped apologising for the ways of my kind. But let's say they wouldn't expect a lone dwarf to be insane enough to infiltrate the place. And remember that in some ways humans are like elder races in seeing what they expect to see. They're using dwarves. I'm a dwarf. Hopefully they wouldn't think much further than that.' 'Hopefully,' Coilla echoed in a slightly mocking tone. 'Humans are bastards but that doesn't make them half-wits, you know.'
'I'm aware of that.'
'So what are you going to do about your rank markings?' She pointed at the tattoos on his face.
'Garva root. You grind it up with water and add just a little clay for colouring. That'll cover 'em, and it's good enough to match my skin.'
'Unless anybody takes a close look,' Stryke said. 'You'd be taking a hell of a lot of chances.'
'I know. But will you agree to the plan in principle?' Stryke pondered it for a moment. 'I can't see another way of doing it. So . . . yes.' Jup smiled.
Combat instinct had the three of them craning to check their surroundings. There were no humans in sight.
Coilla sounded a note of caution. 'Don't get too excited. We still have to work out the practicalities. Like how we'll swap you for one of the workers.' 'Any ideas?' Stryke asked.
'Well, assuming the dwarves are brought in and out every day, and that's a big if in itself, maybe we could ambush one of those wagons. Then we'd take out a passenger and Jup could mingle with the workers in the confusion.'
'No. Too much to go wrong, and it'd alert the humans to some kind of trickery.'
'You're right,' she conceded, 'it wouldn't work. What about you, Jup?'
'All I can think of would be to go to the source of the dwarf workers. I mean, they have to come from somewhere, and I'd bet it isn't too far away. It wouldn't make sense bringing them great distances. Somewhere around here there must be a village or pick-up point.'
'That makes sense,' Stryke agreed. 'So to find it, we'd just have to trail those wagons the next time they leave.'
'Exactly. We'd have to do it on foot, of course, but those wagons move pretty slow.'
'Then let's hope you're right about the pick-up point being near.' He turned the notion over in his mind for a second. 'We'll do it. Coilla, get back to the others and tell them what's happening. Then come back here with a couple of grunts and we'll wait for the wagons to come out.'
'You do realise this is insane, don't you?' she said.
'Insanity's something we're getting quite good at. Now go.'
She smiled thinly and snaked into the field.
The wagons carrying the dwarves left Trinity at dusk. There was no sign of the carriage this time.
Stryke, Coilla, Jup and two troopers waited for the carts to pass and get a head start, then followed, keeping low and under cover. When the fields of crops petered away they had to be more inventive in staying out of sight, but they had enough experience to manage that. Fortunately the trio of laden wagons moved ponderously enough to make trailing them no problem.
Eventually the wagons left the path and struck out across open countryside. The orcs tracked the little convoy for about two miles in the direction of the Calyparr Inlet. Just as Stryke was beginning to worry that they'd be led all the way to the inlet itself, the wagons turned into a glade and halted.
The orcs watched as the wagon tailgates were lowered and the dwarves dismounted. They began leaving, in groups and singly, in different directions.
'So it's a meeting point, not a village,' Stryke said. 'They must be drawing labour from the whole area,' Jup suggested. 'That's better for us. One of them is much less likely to be missed in this situation.'
Circling round, the wagons started their journey back to Trinity. The orcs kept their heads down as the transports passed, moving faster now they'd rid themselves of their load. Several dwarves, too, passed nearby without seeing them.
'So far, so good,' Stryke judged. 'Now we wait until morning and hope there's another pick-up.'
He allotted turns as lookouts and they settled down to their vigil.
The night passed uneventfully.
Shortly after daybreak, dwarves began drifting in to the meeting place. Jup tied a rusty-red bandanna around his neck, the emblem of an obscure and distant tribe. Then he smeared the garva root paste over his cheeks, covering the tattoos. Stryke had feared that it wouldn't look convincing, but it worked remarkably well.
'What we need now is a worker on his own,' he said, 'and we need him at a distance from the glade.'
They all looked out for a likely candidate. One of the grunts nudged Stryke and pointed. A lone dwarf was wading through long grass over to their right. Jup began to move. 'I'll do it.' Stryke laid a hand on his arm. 'But—' 'It has to be me, Stryke. You can see that, can't you?' 'All right. Take Coilla with you, to cover your back.' They set off, creeping low through the cover. The others watched the dwarf they'd targeted moving towards the glade. At the same time they kept an eye on the other workers converging on the pick-up.
Suddenly the lone dwarf went down and there was a brief rustling in the grass. A moment later Jup popped up in his victim's stead and began walking in the direction o
f the waiting wagons.
The orcs watched intently, ready to break cover and rush to his aid if anything went wrong. Jup moved with a relaxed, unhurried stride.
'He's doing a good job of looking casual, I'll give him that,' Stryke commented.
There was a movement in the grass nearby and Coilla reappeared. 'Is he there yet?'
'Nearly,' Stryke reported.
Jup reached the glade, which now had several dozen other dwarves milling around in it. It was a moment of tenseness; the first test of many. But neither the dwarves nor the wagon drivers paid him any particular attention. A few minutes later they began to mount the wagons. Having stood apart from the others, Jup now had to come into close contact with them. This was when his disguise proved either passable or worthless.
The orcs looked on with bated breath.
Mingling with the crowd, Jup climbed aboard a wagon. There was no uproar, no hue and cry. The wagons' tailgates were secured. Whips cracked over the oxen and the convoy moved off.
Keeping very still, the orcs watched the convoy pass. A moment later, the coast clear, they followed. There was no deviation in the route back to Trinity.
But as the wagons rolled on to the road leading to the township's gates, the orcs saw more humans working in the fields than there had been yesterday. Again, they were mostly women, and there were a larger number of guards protecting them.
The Wolverines had to be even more careful to avoid being seen, and there was a limit to how near the wall they could get.
But they found a vantage point, crouching in a field of wheat, from where they could follow the wagons' progression.
As before, guards appeared on the walls above and scanned the arrivals. A moment later the vast gates began creaking open. Again, there was a tantalising glimpse of the interior. The wagons moved forward and entered. Black-clad men rushed to shut the gates.
They closed with a booming crash.
Stryke hoped it didn't mark a death knell for Jup.
18
The great gates slammed behind Jup with a terrible finality.
Without obviously appearing to do so, he looked around. The first thing he saw was several dozen guards, dressed uniformly in black and all bearing arms.
What he could make out of Trinity was formal to the point of severity. The place seemed to be arranged in a way that would have satisfied the most pedantic military commander. All the buildings were neatly positioned in rows. Some were cottages, made of stone with thatched roofs, of a size to house a family. Others were larger, barracks-like buildings, fashioned from timber. Without exception they were pristine in appearance. Further on, towers and spires of equal correctness poked above the rooftops. Arrow-straight roads and lanes cut through the concise landscape. Even the trees, of which there were a few, had been marshalled into regimented lines.
There were humans, men, women and children, going about their business in the stifling orderliness. Like the guards, the men were dressed in uncompromised black. Those of the women and children who weren't wore clothes of bland plainness.
No sooner had he taken in the scene than Jup and his fellow dwarves, none of whom had spoken to him, or to each other in most cases, were herded off the wagons.
It was another moment of truth. Now he'd find out if the humans kept a list of their guest workers' names. If they did, what followed was likely to be unpleasant, and almost certainly terminal.
As seemed fitting in a place obsessed by symmetry, the dwarves were mustered into tidy columns beside the wagons that had brought them. Then to Jup's relief men went along the lines, finger-jabbing each dwarf in turn as they counted them. The human on Jup's line moved his lips in the process, but passed him by without a second look.
Jup was wondering what happened next when there was a flurry of activity at the door of one of the buildings that resembled a barracks. The man he, Stryke and Coilla had seen the day before in his carriage, and whom they assumed to be Kimball Hobrow, appeared at the entrance.
His eyes were just as chill, his expression no less unsmiling. Jup wondered, as he had the previous day, how old the man might be. This closer look was hardly more telling than his first fleeting glimpse, but Jup reckoned him to be about middle-aged in human terms, though he always found it hard to tell when it came to that race. It was rumoured there was some kind of formula for working it out, similar to the one used for dogs and cats, but he was damned if he could remember it.
One thing of which there was no doubt, however, was Kimball's charismatic presence. He radiated an aura of authority, of power, and not a little menace.
The settlers fell silent and parted to let him through. He made his way to a wagon and climbed on to the seat. It added to his already commanding height, making him an even more imposing figure. He scrutinised the dwarves. Despite himself, Jup shrank a little under that penetrating gaze.
Hobrow raised his hands in a gesture that called for quiet, though as there had barely been a sound since he appeared, this was hardly necessary.
'I am Kimball Hobrow!' he boomed. It came across as a profound statement rather than mere information. His voice was bass and silken, belying the slender frame it came from.
'Some of you are new here,' Hobrow continued.
Jup was glad to hear that. It made his position a bit more tenable.
'Those of you who have been here before will have heard what I'm about to say,' Hobrow went on, 'but it bears repeating. You'll do as you're told and remember at all times that you're guests, allowed here so my people can devote themselves to more important tasks.'
We're going to be shovelling shit for them, Jup thought. What a surprise.
Hobrow scanned his audience with those beguiling eyes, in a pause obviously intended to hammer home his point.
'There are certain things we permit here and certain things we don't,' he said. 'We allow you to work hard at the labours for which you're being well rewarded. We allow you to show deference to your betters. We allow you to express respect for our belief in the one true Supreme Creator.'
So much for the stick, Jup reflected. What about the carrot?
'We don't allow laziness, insolence, insubordination, lax morals or profane language.'
Gods, Jup realised, that was the carrot.
'We don't tolerate alcohol, pellucid or any other intoxicant. You'll not speak to any citizen without first being spoken to, and you'll obey without question any order given to you by a custodian or a citizen. You will at all times abide by the laws of this place, which are the laws of our Lord. Transgress and you'll be punished. Like the Supreme Being, what I've given I can take away.'
He ran his steely eyes over them again. Jup noticed that few if any of his fellow dwarves met that disturbing gaze. He tried to avoid it himself, if only so he wouldn't attract attention.
Hobrow plucked off his hat, revealing a shock of ebony hair touched with silvery grey. 'We'll now offer up a prayer for our endeavours,' he announced.
Jup looked to the others. Such dwarves as had hats were doffing them too. Following their example, and Hobrow's, he bowed his head, feeling foolish and conspicuous. Why this was necessary, he didn't know. He didn't go through such a performance when he needed to speak to his gods. Whether they listened surely had nothing to do with whether you wore a hat or not.
'Oh Lord who created all things,' Hobrow began, 'we humbly beseech You to heed our prayer. Bless the labours of these lowly creatures, oh Lord, and help us raise them from their ignorance and savagery. Bless too the efforts of we Your chosen, that we might best serve and honour You. Strengthen our arm in pursuit of our mission as instruments of Your wrath, oh Lord. Let us be Your sword and You our shield against the unrighteous and the blasphemers. Keep pure our race and smite without mercy our enemies and Yours. Make us truly thankful for the infinite bounty You bestow upon us, Lord.'
Without another word, Hobrow replaced his hat, climbed down from the wagon and headed back for the building he had come from. A knot of followers walked r
espectfully in his wake.
'Bit keen, isn't he?' Jup remarked to the dwarf next in line.
This unsmiling individual ignored the comment. He did look Jup up and down, but without too much curiosity.
I'm going to love it here, Jup thought.
A guard, or custodian as Jup supposed he had to call him, took Hobrow's place on the wagon's seat. Several of his fellows hovered in the background.
'You new ones, stay here to be given your duties,' the man said. 'Those of you who know your duties, go to your places of work.'
Most of the dwarves streamed off in different directions.
'Be back here at dusk for your transport away!' he shouted after them.
Jup and four others were left. Now that he was no longer part of a crowd he felt more vulnerable. The other four moved in nearer to the custodian. Not wanting to stand out, he did the same.
'You heard the master's words,' the custodian told them. 'Make sure you heed them. We have ways of punishing those who don't,' he added menacingly. He consulted a sheet of parchment. 'We need three more on the rebuilding in Central Square. You, you and you.' He pointed to a trio of dwarves. 'Follow him.'
One of the other custodians beckoned and they went off with him.
The man went on to the next item on his list. 'One needed to help dig the new cesspit on the south side.'
Jup decided it would be just his luck to pull that job.
'You.'
The custodian indicated the other remaining dwarf. He didn't look like a beam of sunshine as a guard took him off.
As the last one left, Jup began to feel uncomfortable. It crossed his mind that they had realised his true intentions, and that this was a trap, designed to get him alone. The custodian stared at him.
'You look strong,' he said.
'Er, yes, I suppose I am.'
'You'll call me sir,' the custodian informed his cuttingly. 'All humans are sir to your kind."
'Yes . . . sir,' Jup corrected, doing his best to suppress the resentment he felt at having to kow-tow to an incomer.
The custodian consulted his parchment again. 'Another pair of hands are wanted at the arboretum kilns.'
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