"We've had an… incident," Jup replied.
"What?" Brelan demanded.
The dwarfs exchanged glances. "Best to show you," Spurral said.
The place was in turmoil as they led them through the house and down the steps to the extensive cellars.
Passing through an arch and into one of the smaller rooms, Jup pointed. "There."
The others crowded in. On the rough flagstones the corpse of an unknown orc lay in a pool of blood. On the other side of the chamber Standeven was held fast by a pair of rebels.
"What the hell have you done?" Pepperdyne said.
7
"Somebody better tell me what happened here," Brelan demanded.
"This is how we found it," one of the rebels holding Standeven said. "With him standing over the corpse. And he had this." He held up a bloody knife.
"Who is he?" Stryke asked, nodding at the dead body.
They all shook their heads.
"He's a stranger to me," Brelan confirmed. He turned to Standeven. "Did you do this?"
"Yes." He was pale, and he was shaking. There were beads of sweat on his pallid brow.
"Have you gone insane?" Pepperdyne exclaimed.
"Let him speak," Stryke said.
"It was self-defence," Standeven claimed. "I'd no choice." He was growing agitated. "I'm not the villain here! You should thank me for — "
" Calm down," Stryke told him firmly. "Get a grip and tell us what happened. From the start."
The human swallowed. "I was told this was going to be a storage area, and I was moving boxes of rations in."
"Seeing as you're no good for anything else," Coilla muttered.
"Button it," Stryke grated. "You were moving stuff."
Standeven nodded. "When I came in, he was here." He indicated the body, but avoided looking directly at it.
"Seen him before?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"He attacked me."
"Just like that? He didn't speak?"
"Not a word."
"But you had a knife."
"Er… no. That was his."
"You took it off him?" There was scepticism in Stryke's voice.
"I… Yes."
"You're no fighter," Pepperdyne sneered.
"I expect you to back me!" Standeven flared. "You know I'm not the sort to — "
"I know you'd rather run than fight."
"I couldn't! I was attacked!"
"And you, no fighter, disarmed a knife carrier and killed him. You expect us to believe that?"
"You find… reserves when your life's at stake. He pulled the knife and we struggled. It was more luck than anything else that he ended up with the blade in him."
"Then what?" Stryke asked.
"What do you mean?"
"What did you do after you'd stabbed him?"
"I called for help."
"Not until then? Not when you were actually fighting him?"
"It all happened so quickly, I — "
"Right. What was he doing when you came in?"
"Doing? Nothing that I could see."
"What do you think he might be doing?"
"How the hell should I know? He was an intruder; maybe a spy for all I know. I would have thought I'd be congratulated for stopping him."
"Is there anything to identify him?" Brelan wanted to know.
"No, we looked," one of the rebels said.
"How did he get in?" Coilla wondered.
"That wouldn't have been too hard," Brelan admitted.
"What?"
"We're fighting humans, not fellow orcs. You must have noticed we have all sorts through here: citizens who might not be actual resistance members but secretly support us. Offering information, donating supplies, bringing messages…"
"Could that be what he was? A messenger?"
"We tend to know them by sight."
"So by and large," Stryke summed up, "you let anybody in except humans. Which is fine if you think all orcs support your cause, and can keep their mouths shut."
"We're not that sloppy," Brelan protested. "We take measures. And yes, I do believe the orcs of Acurial support us, at heart."
"Hope you're right. But you need to beef up security."
"We're off the point," Brelan came back defensively. "All I know is that a human's killed an orc, right here in a safe house. And if there wasn't doubt about why" — he jabbed a finger at Standeven — " he'd be dead now."
"Why don't you make sure the intruder wasn't known to anybody here?" Stryke suggested.
"You bet I will. What do we do with him?" He glared at Standeven again.
"I want to talk to him. Privately."
There was a hint of suspicion in Brelan's eyes. "Why?"
"He's attached to my band. It's my charge. Just like you discipline your group. You've my word that if there's more to come out about this, you'll know."
"And if it turns out to be murder, plain and simple?"
"Why should I?" Standeven protested heatedly. "What could I possibly gain by — "
" Shut it," Stryke ordered. "If that's what happened, Brelan, he'll pay for it. Dearly."
"He'd better." He gestured at the rebels holding Standeven to let him go. "We'll take the body out when you've finished here." Then, grim-faced, he led his comrades from the room. The door slammed behind them.
Stryke turned to Dallog and Wheam. "You too. Out."
"Aaaahh," Wheam complained, disappointed.
A look from Stryke silenced him. "But stay close, Dallog. I might be needing you."
They went out, leaving Stryke, Coilla and Pepperdyne with Standeven.
"Right," Stryke said, confronting him, "what really happened here?"
"I told you. But — "
Stryke grabbed him by the scruff and wrenched him close. "You're saying that was the whole story?"
"I'm trying to explain! There was… something I didn't mention."
"I knew it!" Pepperdyne snarled.
"No, wait, wait!" Standeven pleaded. "I couldn't say it in front of the others."
"What?"
"Let go, Stryke, and I'll show you."
Stryke hung on to him for a moment, eyes locked on his. Then he let go and pushed him away. "This better be good."
"It is," Standeven said. "Least I reckon you'll think so."
"Get on with it."
"After that happened" — he waved a hand at the dead orc — "I didn't call for help right away. I searched the body."
"Why?"
"I like to know who's trying to kill me. I was just curious."
"Looking for valuables, more like," Pepperdyne remarked.
"Oh, I found something valuable all right." Standeven thrust a hand into his pocket. What he brought out filled the palm of his hand. It was a green sphere with five projecting spikes of varying length, made of a material no one had been able to identify.
" The star," Coilla gasped.
Stryke snatched it and began scrutinising it. "It's the one stolen from you, Coilla," he decided at last. He looked to Standeven. "And this was on the body?"
The human nodded. He was still flushed and had a lustre of perspiration.
"You say you found it on the corpse," Pepperdyne speculated, "but how do we know that's true?"
"Where else would I have got it? And if I had anything to hide, why would I give it to you?"
"To save your skin?" Coilla put in. "It's a good bet we might go easier on you after getting a prize like this."
"For all we know you could have been walking around with it ever since it disappeared," Pepperdyne added.
"Why would I do that?" Standeven asked. "I know you all think I stole it. But if I had, how come I've still got it? Wouldn't I have sold it or — "
"Or given it to Jennesta," Coilla said.
Standeven made no comment.
Stryke sighed. It was a sigh partly of exasperation, partly of bafflement. "Let's get this straight. You're set upon by an orc you've not seen bef
ore. You kill him." He hefted the instrumentality. "And you find this on his body."
"Yes."
Coilla spoke for all of them. "It makes no sense."
Stryke put the star into his belt pouch. "Sense or not, least we've got it back."
"But it doesn't add up, Stryke. Who was he?" She pointed at the body. "What was he doing here? Why did he have — "
"Yeah, I know. But unless you two have any bright ideas, I can't figure it."
"Assuming what we've been told is true," Pepperdyne said, staring pointedly at Standeven.
"I meant what I said to Brelan. If something deeper's going on here, there'll be a price to pay. Otherwise…"
"We accept his story," Coilla finished, eyeing Standeven.
"Could be out of our hands."
"Meaning?"
"We're strangers here. If it turns out this dead one was connected to the resistance, or they decide they don't believe what happened, it'll be their call."
"So where does that leave me?" Standeven asked.
"You're not a member of my band."
"Thank the gods," Coilla mumbled.
"You're not in the band," Stryke repeated, "but we brought you here, and we stand together. So whatever I feel about you, which ain't good, I'm still responsible for you. Call it Wolverine pride."
"I understand," Standeven said, "and I really — "
"I'm not finished. But if it turns out you've been lying about all this you're alone. And I'll kill you myself. Understand that?"
He nodded.
"Keep yourself to yourself. Avoid the rebels' company, if you can, and stick near band members. Maybe this'll blow over."
"Think it will?" Pepperdyne wondered.
Stryke shrugged, then went to the door and called Dallog in. "Escort Standeven to our billet. Make sure the band keeps an eye on him for at least a couple of days."
"How much do I tell 'em about all this?"
"They've a right to know. But I'll take care of it. Now get him out of my sight."
Dallog took Standeven by the arm and hustled him out.
Stryke looked to Pepperdyne and Coilla. "What do you think?"
"It stinks," Coilla offered. "Only I can't see where the smell's coming from."
"Pepperdyne? You know him best."
"He's a lying, two-faced bastard. But I never saw him as a killer. Not because he isn't ruthless, mind you, but because he's a coward."
"Lots of murderers are cowards."
"I suppose I'm saying… I don't know what to think, Stryke. He's twisted enough to kill if it furthers his ends, or at least not to fret if somebody loses their life over him. But he's got no guts. Fuck him. He always screws things up."
"He's not doing that to us."
"We're going to have to babysit him now," Coilla said. "That's not what I signed up for."
"Me neither," Stryke agreed. "But I'm more worried about our bond with the resistance. We've worked hard for their trust. This could break it."
"Ever get the feeling we aren't in control? Not just over this, but what's going on here in Acurial?"
"It's what troubles me most: not having control over our own fate."
"Well, we fought hard enough for it in Maras-Dantia, and once a race gets a taste for freedom they cling to it."
"I'll second that," Pepperdyne contributed.
Stryke gave him a quizzical look, then glanced at Coilla.
"Jode's a Trougathian," she told him.
"A what?"
"Long story. Maybe he'll tell you sometime."
Pepperdyne didn't offer to explain.
"But you're right about control," she went on. "We've got no easy way out. Not as long as we've only got the one star."
"We're going to go for the others."
"When?"
"We need to make a plan, scout Jennesta's route, think of a cover story for Brelan and Chillder — "
" When, Stryke?"
"Tomorrow."
8
Stryke kept the team small. He decided on Coilla, Haskeer and Dallog, the latter the only new recruit, and eight privates, none of them tyros.
It was late the following day, and the shades of night were falling. Stryke's group had established that Jennesta was at the stone circle on the outskirts of Taress, and the route she usually took back to the fortress was confirmed. Now they waited in hiding by a road leading to the redoubt.
"I'm surprised the resistance let us out of their sight," Coilla said. "What did you tell them?"
"Brelan and Chillder think we're freelancing," Stryke told her, "helping to keep the pot boiling. Reckon they were glad to have us out of their way after what happened with Standeven."
"How's that going? I've been here all day, remember."
"The rest of the band's looking out for him. Pepperdyne's closer than his shadow. The rebels are as cold as a dead witch's arse to him. But it turned out the orc he killed isn't known to them, which might make it easier."
"I still don't see how we're going to keep this mission from them. They're bound to hear about it."
"The humans won't boast about a defeat."
"And if they do?"
"They're not going to say anything about the stars."
"That's not what I meant. My worry's about what Brelan and Chillder are going to do when they know we went after Jennesta again behind their backs."
"What can they do about it?"
"Shut us out?"
"We can still help bring about an uprising. That's what we came here for."
"It'll be harder if we make enemies of the resistance."
"We thrive on enemies, Coilla. But you're right; we don't need the rebels on our necks."
"So how do we avoid it?"
"Like I said, Jennesta wouldn't boast of a defeat, so the resistance won't hear about it. But she would crow if it goes wrong."
"You mean we can't screw this up."
"Right."
"What I wanna know," Haskeer said, "is do we kill her if we get the chance?"
"Not if it gets in the way of snatching the stars," Stryke decreed. "Otherwise…"
"The rebels would hear about that," Coilla remarked.
"And wouldn't bellyache if we pulled it off. Killing the Peczan envoy'd be a big boost for them."
They fell silent and returned to watching.
Their hiding place was just beyond a fork in the road. The turnoff led to the main barracks, which were out of sight, where the majority of the fortress garrison were billeted. The road Stryke, Coilla and Haskeer overlooked went to the fortress itself.
Despite being near the city's heart, the area was almost semi-bucolic due to the acres of land belonging to the fortress. Land once used for leisure and hunting by long-dead rulers, and now employed for drill by the citadel's battalion. Graced with more trees than anywhere else in Taress, it was quiet compared to the rest of the metropolis, with little traffic and few passersby. The reputation of the place was such that citizens preferred to avoid it. But there were patrols of troops to be wary of.
"How much longer we got to wait?" Haskeer grumbled.
"Most times she's back around now," Stryke said.
"Waiting's the bit I hate."
"It's part of the job. Take it easy."
"Count your toes," Coilla suggested.
Haskeer scowled at her.
They waited until it was nearly dark, and were passed only by the odd rider or wagon, usually travelling at speed to get through the district as quickly as possible. Haskeer grew more restless, and Stryke was beginning to think the mission would have to be scrubbed.
It was Coilla who snapped them out of it. "There," she said, pointing up the highway.
A convoy was coming along the main road and approaching the fork. They were headed by a group of mounted cavalry, followed by two coaches, each with a trooper sitting alongside the driver. Another contingent of cavalry brought up the rear. The procession moved at a good clip, but short of breakneck speed.
"Hope the other
s are watching this," Coilla added.
"If they're awake," Haskeer muttered.
Stryke shot him a frown.
"Well, Dallog's with 'em."
"He's a pro," Stryke told him, "and so are the grunts with him. So quit sniping."
Haskeer grunted in a noncommittal way.
The convoy had reached the fork. The cavalry in the lead peeled off and headed for their barracks, as did the contingent bringing up the rear. The unescorted pair of carriages picked up speed for the home stretch.
Coilla gazed into the trees on the other side of the road. She couldn't see anything. Not that she had expected to. "They're cutting it fine."
"The timing has to be spot-on," Stryke reminded her. "Relax."
She smiled at the thought of relaxation as she reached for her bow.
The convoy was almost on them. Coilla and Haskeer nocked their arrows.
"Make those shots count," Stryke told them. "You might not get a second chance."
"I know, I know," Haskeer came back irritably.
The convoy was almost level with their position when a loud crack rang out. Ahead of the first carriage a mature tree crashed down in a flurry of leaves, blocking the road. The carriages skidded to a halt. Another substantial tree fell behind the second carriage, boxing them both in.
" Now! " Stryke yelled.
Coilla and Haskeer loosed their arrows. Coilla's struck the trooper next to the driver on the lead carriage. It was a righteous hit, pitching the man from his seat.
Haskeer's arrow missed. Stryke and Coilla glared at him.
Cursing, he fumbled for another bolt. Coilla reloaded first, took aim and brought down the trooper on the second carriage. Haskeer's next shot was true. It killed the first carriage's driver. By that time the driver of the second had scrambled down on the far side and disappeared into the trees.
"Remember," Stryke warned, "Jennesta's magic can be lethal. She should be in the first carriage, so leave that to me. Now move!"
They came out of hiding and charged toward the road. Before they were halfway there the rest of the raiding party, with Dallog to the fore, emerged from the foliage. Several of them still clutched the axes they had used to fell the trees. Two grunts ran to stand lookout at each end of the halted convoy. The rest made for the carriages.
An arrow shot out of the open window of the second coach. It was aimed at Coilla, and came near to claiming her. She dropped and hugged the ground. Stryke and Haskeer did the same. Coilla got off an arrow of her own. It smacked into the carriage door. Whoever was inside returned fire, but the bolt flew over their heads. Haskeer unleashed an arrow, sending it through the window. Somebody in the dark interior shrieked.
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