Rodario put two and two together. It must have been one of the creatures subject to Ushnotz, the orc lord; part of a unit that had got cut off from the others and got through to the empty realm of the fifthlings at the stone gateway. In the early days it had not been guarded.
By Palandiell! The black water, he thought. Worried now, he watched Flagur and measured him up. Ushnotz’s warriors had partaken of the black water and were immortal. What would happen if you ate the orc flesh? If the flesh was evil, would it pull you that way too? Was Flagur only pretending to be a friend? Perhaps he really wanted the diamond for his own rune master. Was he perhaps planning to take over Girdlegard with his hundred-thousand-strong army as soon as he had the stone?
The ubari watched him. “What’s is the matter, Rodario? Why’ve you gone quiet?”
“I’m… tired.” He avoided the question. “I’m sorry if I’m not good company. It always happens when… I eat fish.” Quickly he wolfed down his meal and said goodnight. As if purely by chance he lay down next to Tungdil and tried to wake him gently.
“What is it, Fabuloso?” the dwarf asked, drunk with sleep.
“You’ll never believe this but-”
“Then don’t tell me,” he interrupted, turning over. “I’m in pain.”
“Our friend and ally has a secret. He’s eaten an orc that had drunk from the black water,” he whispered emphatically.
Now Tungdil was fully awake. “What are you talking about? Why would he do that?”
“Because they taste good. Apparently.” Rodario shuddered.
Tungdil digested the news and considered the possibilities. “Even if it were true, Ushnotz and his orc folk are long dead.”
“But before that Flagur ate one of them. He was from the Gray Range, he said.” The actor was insistent and agitated.
Tungdil could just about work out what might have happened. Back then he and Ireheart had attacked a few orc scouts at the Stone Gateway and pursued three of them into the Outer Lands. One of these had escaped and must have run straight into Flagur’s arms. “They eat orcs?”
It was not too far-fetched. He remembered that Djer n met his nutritional needs from all sorts of Tion’s creatures. The acronta and ubariu had a few characteristics in common.
He cast a look at Sirka’s sleeping countenance and wondered whether the undergroundlings enjoyed certain dishes that might be based on less than conventional meat sources. If they worshipped the same god…
He found the idea revolting. Admittedly his own folk enjoyed eating insect larvae-something the humans found hard to understand. But there was still a difference between eating maggots and eating orcs. And the difference was not merely to do with the taste.
Rodario sighed. “What shall we do, Tungdil? Can we afford to trust Flagur or does he carry the seed of evil in him? Perhaps without being aware of it?”
The dwarf lifted his head a little to look at the ubari. He was sitting with his back to them in front of the flames of the campfire, his silhouette broad and impressive. “To be honest with you, I don’t know,” he answered the actor. “Keep an eye on him and tell me immediately if you get the idea he’s not behaving like an ally.” He cradled his head back on his arm. “But I shall trust him until we have evidence to the contrary.” He smiled. “Leave a few things in the hands of the gods, Fabuloso. Give them something to do and don’t leave it all to the mortals.”
“If you say so, Hero of Girdlegard,” sighed Rodario, closing his eyes. “Let us hope the gods see everything.” Then he had a thought. “No, they don’t have to see absolutely everything. Otherwise my soul is never going to get to the garden of the Creator Goddess.”
“Why? Did she forbid humans to behave the way you do?” asked Tungdil, his one eye firmly shut.
Rodario laughed softly. “It depends how you interpret it. But she doesn’t agree with making love to women who really belong in the arms of another.”
And there it was yet again: the thought of Balyndis.
Now he was free of her Tungdil found himself thinking of her more often than when they had been a couple. Guilty feelings nagged. He knew she would feel she had been deceived. He knew how cowardly his conduct had been. One letter. No more than that.
There he was, brave enough to vanquish Girdlegard’s most fiendish foes but unable to find the courage to face his partner and admit that he no longer wanted to be with her. No longer could be with her.
He opened his remaining eye and turned to Sirka, contemplating her features, black in the starlight. He listened to her even breathing, took in the smell of her and felt her warmth.
At least Sirka would not suffer when one day he left her. The undergroundling people seemed to be as restless as his own wandering spirit when it came to emotional attachments. Perhaps she would be the one to leave first.
That thought made his heart lighter.
XVI
Girdlegard,
Queendom of Weyurn,
Southeastern Border, Port of Shale,
Late Summer, 6241st Solar Cycle
The befuns had proved their hardiness and stamina. In just a few orbits Tuagdil and his company had covered the distance to Weyurn-one that would have taken a rider on a horse three times as long.
They had increased their speed after meeting people on the road who spoke of having seen strange creatures ahead of them-or rather, stranger creatures than the ones in their own troop.
But nature was not on their side. Shortly before they reached the port of Shale night fell, bringing a shroud of thick fog. The befuns resolutely settled for their rest as usual, forcing Tungdil and his companions to cover the last four miles at a run. Flagur carried Lot-Ionan, who could not manage the pace.
By the time they reached the town gates of Shale, Tungdil and Rodario were bathed in perspiration and gasping for breath. They were admitted on the authority of Queen Wey, but the guards kept their weapons raised, not trusting the dangerous-looking orcs. How were they to know that the ubariu did not share the orcish appetite for human flesh?
The captain gave them an escort and ensured they were provided with everything they needed for their mission.
“This way to the port,” called Tungdil, hurrying through one of the narrow alleyways that led down to the quayside. A wide range of boats and ships lay at anchor, emerging like ghosts from the mist.
“Take this one,” said the seafarer Sirka, indicating a small anonymous-looking sailing boat. “It’s quite light, with a keel built for speed and a tall mast. We can hoist a lot of canvas and get to the island very quickly.”
“Right. Off we go.” Tungdil sent one of the guards on board the Waveskimmer to rouse the crew. The man ran up the gangway and jumped on deck, then disappeared from view.
They heard him call out and soon a second voice, rough and bad-tempered, answered. A short sharp argument ended with the guard unceremoniously flying over the railings into the harbor. Two fellow sentries helped haul him out.
“Let me guess. The captain said no?” An amused Rodario interpreted the situation.
“And said we could lick his arse,” nodded the watchman, cursing and reaching for his sword. “I’ll show the idiot.”
Flagur made a face. “Let me speak to the captain,” he said and stomped off up the gangway; the ramp creaked under his heavy steps.
“Someone’s going to wish they had cooperated the first time,” grinned Rodario.
There was no discussion. This time the captain was the one sent flying. He missed the corner of the pier, landed on the hard cobbles and lay there, befuddled.
“It’s your own fault, Kordin,” the guard told him, drenching the mariner with a bucket of water.
The cold water woke him out of his daze. With a bloody nose and a few abrasions Kordin stood up and looked out to his ship, where Flagur stood on deck, his stout arms on the rail. “What sort of a creature is that to let loose on an honest sailor? Why didn’t you kill it? That would have been the decent thing to do.”