"They did here."
"And your race took it from them." She raised her hands. "Sorry. Tell me about your land."
"Trougath's an island off… well, it doesn't really matter where it is. It's large enough for us and the soil's good. So's the fish harvest. We're islanders, we have an understanding with the sea. Most of all, it's our homeland. But it's got one flaw."
"Its location."
"You're smart."
"For an orc, you mean?"
"No, just smart."
"Stands to reason you'd only have enemies if there's something you've got they want, or if you're in the wrong place."
"I can see why you're the band's mistress of strategy. But you're right; a very wrong place. At least, that's what it became. Trougath stands at a point where it could threaten free passage for its several neighbours, had we wanted to do that, which we didn't. So we sat in the middle of a wheel, each spoke sharpened and pointing at us. All the neighbouring states had a lustful eye on such a favourably placed island. Whoever took it could cow the others. That's why my people embraced warfare, and kept them out."
"How come, if those nearby states were so strong?"
"My people had been there since long before the rise of the powers that came to surround us. We were numerous and well established. We knew the terrain. And we fought well, as people will when they're protecting all they've got. We were always on alert, and often under actual siege. We did without enough arms; we did without salt. Even water, at times."
"How long did that last?"
"Generations. Eventually it dawned on them that they couldn't conquer us, so they took to flattering us. So in addition to the skills of combat, we learnt the black art of politics. The game became playing one off against the other. That, and occasional wars, kept us sovereign for a long time."
"But I'm guessing your luck ran out. Otherwise you'd be there now."
He nodded. "Our leaders sided with the wrong tyrant. Not through any liking of him, but by necessity. That caused a schism among my people. Not a civil war exactly, though that came close, but enough of a distraction for us to drop our guard. The very warlord our leaders befriended was the one who took advantage."
"There's a surprise."
"It seemed like treachery to us. Hell, that's what it was. Those were dark days, and we all did things we weren't especially proud of, in the name of patriotism. None less than me. I won't bore you with the ins and outs. The upshot was that our nation was smashed and what survived of the population scattered. We became drifters, peasants in foreign lands, impoverished merchants, even mercenaries. Some were enslaved." The latter came out with particular vitriol.
Coilla kept her peace for a moment, then, "You said there was more than one way your race was like mine."
"We're both maligned. And once your enemies stigmatise you, they can justify any crime, any indignity they heap on you. Our name was blackened and it sticks. Even false ignominy carries on, like a rock cast down a hill."
She could relate to that. "The storytellers, the scholars with their books: they're from the winning side, more often than not. You wouldn't believe the shit they spew about orcs. They say we favour human flesh, or even that we eat each other. They put it about that we sprang from elves, for the gods' sake. All lies!"
"They said we conjured demons and sodomised goats."
Coilla burst out laughing. Pepperdyne looked stern for a moment, then joined her.
"So," she said when that was subsiding, "how does Standeven come into all this?"
Amusement died in his face instantly, like a snuffed candle.
"Is he a… Trougathian too?" she asked.
"No, he's a bastard."
"But one with some kind of charge on you."
"Let's say I'm working a debt off with him."
"Even while you're in this world? Doesn't that change anything?"
"Only here. Back home…"
"We might never see our homes again, Jode!" She checked herself. "Shit. That's not good for morale, is it? Stryke'd hate hearing me say that."
"It's no secret, Coilla. I reckon we all think that staying here's the most likely thing."
"Well, it'd be no different to what's happened in the past."
"What do you mean?"
"Something we were told before we left Maras-Dantia the first time. Do you know why the elder races came to be there?"
" Why? They… you… were just… always there. Weren't you?"
"No. I don't say I understand it, but out there" — she waved a limp hand in the general direction of away — "out there, there are whole worlds of elves and centaurs, and pixies and gnomes, and all the rest. And orcs," she added hastily. "Crowds of the races… I don't know… fell through to Maras-Dantia. Scooped up like fish in a net by a powerful sorceress."
"Humans too?"
"We were told you were our world's true race."
"Ironic."
"We didn't think so." There was a flash of steel in her eyes.
"So all orcs would have originally come from Acurial. From here?"
She frowned. "I don't know. The world we've been living in, Ceragon, has only orcs too. But a damned sight more spirited than the ones here."
"So humans might not have started off on Maras-Dantia. Who's to say where orcs, humans or any other race could have originated? Or how far they've spread. Doesn't that intrigue you?"
"No, it makes my head hurt. I see things simpler. Like, maybe we should look at this as being just like moving from one camp to another. Your people are drifters: you must understand that."
"It's a hell of a trek, Coilla. Sure you're not just making the best of it?"
" 'Course that's what I'm doing. It's the orc way. We never say die."
"That could have been Trougath's motto." He grew sombre. "But lately I feel almost like — "
He broke off at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were loud and hurried, and could mean trouble. Pepperdyne and Coilla got up, hands on sword hilts.
Chillder burst into the room. She was breathing heavily.
"We've got a situation," she announced, "and we need all the swords we can muster."
6
A crowd had gathered in one of Taress' largest squares. The mob was several hundred strong, and tempers were fraying. What began as a series of protests — against taxes, restricted access to holy places, the razing of certain venerated buildings, food rationing, curfews, heavy-handed policing and any number of other grievances — had distilled into a general outpouring of bitterness at the occupation.
The situation was near flashpoint. But it wasn't an incipient riot that drew the resistance. Their aim was to use it as cover.
A number of the rebels were present, along with most of the Wolverines, and the Vixens, the all-female unit Coilla had formed. Scattered around the square, they were dressed soberly, with weapons well concealed.
"Not that long ago these orcs wouldn't have been this restive," Stryke whispered in Brelan's ear.
"They wouldn't even have come onto the streets."
The pair were standing together at the edge of the milling crowd. There was a knot of human militia nearby, disquiet on their hard faces.
Stryke could see Haskeer not far off, and a little way on, Dallog with a team of grunts. Further afield, Chillder stood alongside several Vixens. But there was no sign yet of the comrades they were waiting for.
"Sure everybody knows what they have to do?" Brelan asked softly.
Stryke replied pointedly, "My band does. I hope your facts are right."
"There's no doubt. What we want is there." He flicked a glance at a building on one side of the square. It stood apart from its neighbours on either side, and looked recently constructed. A squat, one-storey structure, it had white facing and barred windows. Weapons drawn and watchful, a group of nervous militiamen stood guard outside its heavy door.