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Makri and I head towards Big Bixo's. All around, festivities are gathering pace, in readiness for the midnight finale. #2 | | |
"Makri, you see that man walking past the beer tent?" #3 | | |
"The one with the bandage on his arm?" #4 | | |
"That's one of the men who attacked me in the alley. He had a helmet on but I recognise his red hair. And his wound. Are you up for some action?" #5 | | |
"Of course. Are we going to kill him?" #6 | | |
"Not right away. I want to know who sent him after me." #7 | | |
We follow the man at a distance as he walks past a row of tents, slowly making his way from the festival towards the town. #8 | | |
"So you're going to ask him questions?" says Makri. #9 | | |
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Makri comes to a halt. "I'm not doing it." #11 | | |
"What do you meanyou're not doing it?" #12 | | |
"I know what you have in mind. You want me to playOrc Demon Woman so he'll be frightened." #13 | | |
"Does that bother you?" #14 | | |
"You know it bothers me! It's demeaning." #15 | | |
"Come on Makri, you've done it before. Just make sure your pointy ears are showing, and you have that crazy look in your eyes. Yes, like that, that's good. Now hurry up of we'll lose him." #16 | | |
We catch up with our prey on the dark path between the last tents and the first building of Elath, managing to take him completely by surprise. I grab him and bundle him behind a tree, then draw my sword. #17 | | |
"You tried to kill me," I say. "I want to know why." #18 | | |
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The man takes a step, as if to flee, but I put my sword at his chest. "Were you working for Big Bixo?" #20 | | |
He looks at me defiantly. "I'm not telling you anything, fat man." #21 | | |
"Maybe you'd like my sword in your heart?" #22 | | |
"You're not going to do that, Turanian dog. Not while you're working for Lisutaris. You can't get her into trouble, can you?" #23 | | |
He has a point. I wasn't expecting him to be so well-informed. #24 | | |
"I might not do it," I tell him. "But she certainly will." #25 | | |
On cue, Makri appears from behind the tree. Her long, thick hair is dishevelled, matted over her face and shoulders, and she has a crazed look in her eyes. She draws her black Orcish sword. It's a dark, ugly weapon. Rather than reflecting light, it seems to suck it in. With one swift movement she grabs the man's hair and places the edge of her sword at his throat. "This sword was forged by demons in an Orcish furnace beneath the cursed mountain of Zarax," she snarls. "It'll drink your soul and send you down to Orcish hell. The legion of the Orcish-damned will torture you forever." #26 | | |
Makri uses her other hand to sweep her hair back. "You see these ears? They grow sharper with each human soul I drink! Die, Human, and meet the Orcish Dead!" #27 | | |
Makri raise her sword. The man cries out in fear. "Don't let her kill me! Magranos sent me after you!" #28 | | |
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"Chief Steward to Baron Vosanos." #30 | | |
"Why did he send you?" #31 | | |
"I don't know? He just wanted you dead! Get me away from this demon!" #32 | | |
I nod to Makri. She sheathes her sword. The man takes off at a run and disappears without looking back. #33 | | |
"Good job scaring him," I tell Makri. "Messing up your hair was a nice touch." #34 | | |
"It's so humiliating," she says. "I don't even believe in Orcish Hell." We walk on. "So what did you learn?" #35 | | |
"I'm not sure. Magranos, Chief Steward to Baron Vosanos? Why would the Baron want me out the way?" #36 | | |
"His daughter is marrying Demelzos's son, isn't he?" #37 | | |
"He is. And it sounds like he doesn't like me poking around." I notice Makri hasn't sheathed her sword, which is unusual. She normally keeps it covered. The mere sight of the foul Orcish blade can cause anger and revulsion in the West. "Why are you looking at your sword?" #38 | | |
"I'm wondering about its powers. It can't really send anyone to Orcish Hell, but it is strong. Itwas forged under Mount Zarax. The Orcs say blades from that furnace can cut through anything, even objects protected by sorcery." Makri unsheathes her second sword, a bright silver blade from the Elvish Isles. "Don't Elvish swords have some powers over sorcery too?" #39 | | |
"Where is this conversation going?" #40 | | |
"Nowhere," says Makri, sheathing her swords. "I was just wondering." #41 | | |
I look at her suspiciously. "Are you planning on destroying something sorcerous?" #42 | | |
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"Well make sure you don't. We're already in enough trouble." #44 | | |
Makri sheathes her swords. The Elvish blade was a gift from the Elves on Avula, and as for the Orcish sword, she either won it as a gladiator, or looted it when she slaughtered everyone while making her escape from the East. I'm not sure which. She'll have another fine blade if she wins the tournament, as part of her prize. #45 | | |
Arichdamis's house is empty. All the servants have gone to the festival. I round up some food from the cellars. It's now early evening. #46 | | |
"Look," says Makri. "I found you a beer in the kitchen." #47 | | |
I accept it gratefully. #48 | | |
"You should sleep," she says. #49 | | |
"I don't think we have time. Lisutaris is meeting the King. We should be there. And we've still got to visit Big Bixo before the final." #50 | | |
