Orcs (25 page)

“Her name. It’s Mercy.”

They arrived at the main gates. The other dwarves were there and the wagons were waiting. All were counted and, as Jup feared, they were searched. But it consisted of no more than the patting of clothes and a quick delve into pockets. Nobody, thank the gods, wanted to look in his boots. At least it confirmed his hunch that smuggling out the star wasn’t a very smart idea.

Some coins were dropped into his hand and he climbed aboard a wagon.

The opening of the gates was the most comforting thing he’d seen all day.

19

Safely installed in their mine-shaft hideaway, Jup related the day’s events to the Wolverines. Alfray was busy examining the plant samples.

“You’ve done well, Jup,” Stryke praised, “but I’m not keen on you going back in there. Apart from anything else, there’s too high a chance that the dwarf you killed might be reported missing.”

“I know that. Believe me, I’m not happy about it myself, chief. But if we want that star, I can’t see how else to do it.”

“Finding it’s one thing, getting it out is another,” Coilla said. “What’s the plan?”

“I was wondering if I could get it over the wall to you somehow,” Jup suggested.

Stryke was unimpressed. “Not practical.”

“What about making a copy of the star and swapping it for the real one?” Coilla pitched in.

“Nice idea. But that wouldn’t work either. We haven’t got the skill to make even a half-convincing copy. Nor do we have anything that comes anywhere near the kind of material we’d need.”

“The one I saw in Trinity’s different to ours, too,” Jup reminded them. “We’d have to do it from what I could remember. Even if we could copy it, that doesn’t solve the problem of getting the original out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Stryke agreed. “I think the only way is a more direct approach. Of the kind we do best.”

“You don’t mean we should storm the place?” Coilla said. “A handful against an entire township?”

“Not exactly. But what I have in mind would put a lot on you, Jup. It’s much more dangerous than anything you’ve done so far.”

“What are you getting at, Stryke?”

“I’m thinking of you getting hold of the star then us getting hold of you.”

“What?”

“It’s simple really. All being well, tomorrow you and the star will be together behind the walls at Trinity and we’ll be outside. Is there any way you could let us in?”

“Shit, Stryke, I don’t know . . .”

“Did you notice any way in or out apart from the main gates? Anything we missed on our reconnaissance?”

“Not that I saw.”

“It’d have to be the main gates then.”

“How?”

“We’ll agree a time. You’ll have to get away from the hothouse, grab the star—”

“And get to the gates and open them for you. That’s asking a hell of a lot, Stryke. Those gates are massive, and they’re guarded.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. You’d have to deal with the guards and get those gates unbarred. We’d be waiting close by to help open them. Then it’s a quick getaway. If you think it’s too risky, we’ll try to come up with something else.”

“Well, there were only two guards by the gates when I left tonight, so I suppose it wouldn’t be impossible overcoming them. All right, let’s go for that.”

Alfray joined them, frowning, the plant samples in his hand. “Well, what you’ve brought us adds another twist to things, Jup.”

“Why? What are they?”

“I know two of the three types, although they’re quite rare.” He held up a leaf. “This is wentyx, which you can find in a few places down here in the south.” He indicated another. “This one, the vale lily, tends to grow more in the west, though you could spend years looking for it.” He showed them the third sample. “This is new to me, and I suspect it’s something the humans brought with them to Maras-Dantia. But I’d guess it does the same thing these others do.”

“Which is what?” Stryke asked.

“Kills. The two I know are among the most lethal plants in existence. The vale lily yields berries that always prove fatal even in tiny amounts. With the wentyx you have to boil the stalk for a residue that’s even more potent, if anything. The gods know how dangerous the one I can’t identify is. And the first two have something else in common. They’re so potent that large quantities of water hardly dilutes them. Does what Hobrow has in mind seem clearer now?”

Jup was stunned. “Hell, yes. They’re growing these things for poisons to kill elder races with.”

Alfray nodded. “Massacre, more like. This explains the dam. Hobrow’s protecting Trinity’s own water supply so they’ll be safe when they poison the other sources.”

“I saw wells in Trinity.”

“Then the reservoir’s a further guarantee for them.”

“Or else it’s the reservoir they’ll poison,” Stryke said. “If you control the major water supply for a whole area, then let it be known that any of the races can use it —”

“Or just leave it unguarded,” Coilla added, “knowing they’ll come and draw from it. Particularly if there’s a drought, which isn’t impossible, seeing how the weather’s been so unpredictable in recent seasons.”

“Either way, the result’s likely to be the slaughter of every race but humans in these parts,” Alfray said.

Jup recalled something. “Hobrow said that if it works here, they’ll try it on a wider scale. They go in for a lot of purity-of-the-race stuff in Trinity, certainly if the way they treat dwarves is anything to go by. How much purer can you get if there
are
no other races?”

“It’s an insane plan,” Alfray judged. “Think about it. The first to drink the water would die, and that would warn off others. How can these Unis believe it would work?”

“Maybe they’re too blinded by hatred to see things straight,” Stryke said. “Or it could be they think enough would be killed to make it worthwhile.”

“The
bastards
,” Coilla seethed. “We can’t let them get away with it, Stryke.”

“What can we do? Things are going to be hard enough for Jup tomorrow without another near-impossible task.”

“We’re just going to walk away from this?”

“From what Jup says, that plant house is a fair distance inside Trinity. There’s no way we’re going to get to it, particularly if the alarm’s gone out about the missing star. All we can do is spread the word among local elder races and hope they can act on the warning.”

She wasn’t happy. “It doesn’t seem much.”

“What if I can do anything while I’m in there, Stryke?” Jup asked. “Without putting the star in peril, that is?”

“Then good luck. But the star’s your first priority. The power the stars promise could do a lot more good for Maras-Dantia than us throwing away our lives to stop this scheme.”

“Have any of you wondered where Hobrow got his star?” Alfray wanted to know.

Stryke had. “Yes. But I remember what Mobbs said. It’s possible that the humans came upon it by chance, the gods know how, and just haven’t an idea of what it’s for.”

“Any more than we have,” Coilla put in.

“Hobrow’s enough of a tyrant to go after the other stars if he knew their power, and to use it,” Jup informed them.

“Wiping out whole races seems to back that,” Coilla agreed, more than a little cynically.

“All right, there’s not much else we can do tonight,” Stryke decided.

Jup turned to Alfray. “How’s Haskeer?”

If Alfray was surprised at Jup asking after the health of his antagonist, he didn’t show it. “Fair. I’m hoping his fever’s going to break soon.”

“Pity he’s out of it. Irritating fucker he may be, but we could use him tomorrow.”

They talked a while longer about tomorrow’s plans, and the expedition Hobrow planned to Scratch particularly intrigued them. But in the end they settled down to catch what sleep they could with more questions than answers.

Getting into Trinity the next day proved no harder than before.

Jup presented himself at the pick-up point, boarded a wagon and was delivered to the township. This time he took especial notice of the number of guards manning the gates. There were five. His heart sank. But he consoled himself with the thought that perhaps more were assigned at busy times like this.

One thing Jup did differently for his second visit was to conceal a knife in his boot. His reasoning was that as they hadn’t searched him coming in yesterday, they wouldn’t today. In the event, his gamble paid off.

This time, there was no lecture from Hobrow. And when the dwarves were told to report to their places of work, Jup didn’t check with the custodians. He simply went with the two other dwarves assigned to the hothouse. Istuan told Jup what to do, which was a rerun of his previous day’s duties, and Jup got on with it.

The time agreed for Jup to be at the gates was midday, which he reckoned was in about four hours. Which meant he needed to be out of the arboretum well before that. As he worked, his mind and eye kept returning to the small jungle of plants in the adjacent glassed area. He didn’t favour leaving Trinity without at least trying to do something about them. As Stryke had said, that was all right as long as it didn’t endanger gaining the star. He thought it worth the additional risk.

The plan he had for getting away from the hothouse and to the temple was basic, direct and by necessity brutal. He pondered it as he lugged the wood and black burning-stones to the piles that fed the kilns. Time dragged, as it often did when a particular moment was anticipated, but he knew that when it came to it things would move fast enough. He carried on shovelling the fuel, working up a sweat and casting shifty glances at the toxic nursery.

When he judged the moment near, he left the furnace room by way of the back door, ostensibly to check the tank’s water levels.

Jup didn’t want to use his knife against fellow dwarves unless he had to, no matter how treacherous they might seem. So he selected a sturdy timber bough, concealed himself behind the door and waited.

Several long minutes passed before a voice was raised inside. The words were unclear, but he was obviously being called for. He ignored it.

The door opened and one of the dwarves came out.

Jup waited for the door to close again, then stepped forward and rapped the dwarf smartly across the back of the head with his improvised bludgeon. His victim went down. Jup dragged him out of sight.

He returned to his hiding place and renewed the vigil. There were no warning shouts before the door opened a second time. Then not one but two figures exited.

Jup found himself facing Istuan and the other dwarf. He laid into them. The dwarf went down first, and without too much effort, if only because he had no weapon to defend himself with.

But the custodian put up a fight.

“You filthy little freak!” he bellowed, swinging his own club, which unlike Jup’s improvised version was designed for the purpose.

They stood toe to toe and exchanged grunting blows. Jup’s concern was that the human would cry out loudly enough to bring help. He had to finish this quickly.

The custodian proved no easy prey, however, and one of his swings caught Jup’s arm. It was a painful but not crippling strike, and it spurred him to greater effort. He powered into Istuan, battering at him in search of an opening. Another swing by the human gave him his chance. Jup ducked and brought his club up to connect heavily with the custodian’s chin.

Istuan gasped and the weapon fell from his loosened fingers. Jup quickly followed through with a swinging blow to his head, knocking him cold.

Tossing aside the piece of timber, he took up a two-handed axe used to chop the logs. A single swipe severed the pipe carrying water from the tanks into the furnace room.

He rushed through the door. The water in the open gully above the kilns was already drying up. Snatching one of the stoking shovels, he loaded it with glowing coals. He turned, ran the few paces to the hothouse and tossed the coals into the jumble of plants. This he repeated several times, with both hot coals and flaming logs, until the plants in the hothouse began to burn and the wooden shelving caught.

His hope was to kill two birds with one arrow. The fire should create a diversion, and destroying the plants might scupper Hobrow’s plan, or at least delay it.

Satisfied the blaze had taken, he checked the street and left, firmly slamming the door behind him. As he hurried past the glass end of the structure he saw smoke inside, and pinpoints of yellow flame. He set off for the temple, careful not to break into a run no matter how much he wanted to.

He wondered how long he had before the alarm was raised.

Glancing at the sky showed the sun was near its highest point. The Wolverines would now be in position. He hoped he wasn’t going to disappoint them.

Moving as fast as he dared, he tried not to dwell on the enormity of the task he’d agreed to.

Jup turned into the avenue of the temple. Almost as soon as he did, the doors opened and a crowd of humans flooded out, presumably from attending a service. He froze, shocked at this sudden profusion of the species.

Conscious that standing in the road and staring was likely to attract attention, he snapped out of his paralysis and resumed walking. Very slowly, with his head down. He went past the place of worship, staying on the other side of the road, careful not to obstruct any of the departing worshippers scattering in all directions. Very few took much notice of him. For the first time he appreciated how being regarded as a member of a lowly race had its advantages.

He rounded a corner, making out that he was heading somewhere else. As the worshippers thinned he turned back and walked towards the temple again.

The street outside was clear now, except for a few humans moving off with their backs to him. He decided on a direct approach and damn the consequences. Marching straight to the temple doors, he shoved them open.

Much to his relief, the building was deserted.

He ran to the small glass case, grabbed it and dashed it against the altar, shattering it. Snatching up the star, he stuffed it into his pocket and fled.

Outside, he noticed smoke rising from the next street where the hothouse was located. Behind him, somebody shouted. He looked over his shoulder.