| | |
Orcs are a little larger than Humans, and slightly stronger. But uglier. They're much given to wearing crude jewellery with motifs of eagles and skulls, and probably originated the nose-, lip- and eyebrow-piercing style with which Kaby and Palax now distress the respectable population of Turai. #2 в контекст | | |
Craggy-faced with dark, inky-red skin, they generally dress in dark shaggy leather clothes of simple design and wear their hair long. They're usually savage fighters and, despite what Humans say, are not stupid. I know that their diplomats have proved to be shrewd negotiators. It's said in the west that most Orcs do not read, and there is no literature of any sort in any of their nations, but Makri claims this is not true. Nor, she says, is it true that they play no music; nor are they cannibals. She even says she's seen Orcish paintings, though I find this very hard to believe. Makri loathes all Orcs, but refuses to admit that Humans are much more civilised. I know little of their civilisation. The only time I've encountered Orcs has been in battle, and most of the ones I've faced have ended up dead before we had a chance for much conversation. I've never even seen a female Orc, or a child. #3 в контекст | | |
As is the case with the Human Lands, Orcs speak their own national dialect as well as the common Orcish tongue. Very few people in the west know any Orcish—it's regarded as very unlucky even to utter a word of it—so Pazaz the dragonkeeper is surprised and disconcerted when Makri addresses him in the common Orcish language. He's naturally suspicious, but as he's been told by his superiors to cooperate with the investigation, and we're bearing a letter from the Praetor himself, he answers our questions. #4 в контекст | | |
"He claims not to know anything about the killing," reports Makri, who is herself finding the conversation very unsettling. The last time she talked to an Orc, she was their slave, and she doesn't enjoy the memory. "He's upset though. He liked the dragon." #5 в контекст | | |
| | |
| | |
"Ask him if he sold the sleep spell to anyone but Attilan." #8 в контекст | | |
Pazaz denies that he sold a dragon sleep spell to anyone at all but we tell him we know he's lying. I threaten to inform his Ambassador and he breaks down a little. He admits selling a copy to Attilan, but swears there was no one else. #9 в контекст | | |
It's difficult to know if he's telling the truth. I get a feeling with most suspects, but the emotions behind this craggy face are strange and unreadable. I lay some more of my cards on the table and tell him I know all about the plot to export Red Elvish Cloth to Gzak. Now he is really worried. Even though he's under diplomatic protection he'd find himself in an uncomfortable position if the population of Turai learned about it. There's enough bad feeling in the city about Orcs being here at all, without it being known that they've been trying to steal our magical secrets. #10 в контекст | | |
Nothing in his answers brings me any closer to learning who killed the dragon, or where the Elvish Cloth might be now. Praetor Cicerius told me that the religious ceremony attended by the Royal Family had lasted no more than half an hour. Whoever came here and killed the dragon must have had good inside information, but in a city as corrupt as Turai good inside information is available to anyone for a price. More interestingly, Cicerius also informed me that the Investigating Sorcerers from Palace Security have been unable to detect the aura of any unusual visitors to the zoo, which makes matters worse for the Princess. Still, with the dragon's disruptive effect on any magical field, it's not absolutely certain that no stranger has been here. #11 в контекст | | |
"It can't have been easy for anyone to kill the dragon and remove the Cloth, sleep spell or not. Has no one been around showing any unusual interest in its habits?" #12 в контекст | | |
No one has, according to Pazaz. No one talks to him at all, apart from Bishop Gzekius, who's made one or two attempts to convert him to the True Religion. I'm almost moved to sympathy for the Orc. Bishop Gzekius is always trying to put one over on his fellow Bishops. Probably wanted the Orc's soul as a trophy. #13 в контекст | | |
It's time to leave. Apart from having my suspicions about Attilan confirmed, I haven't learned much. #14 в контекст | | |
Lights burn still in the Palace as we're led through the grounds to the gates. Inside I expect everything is in uproar, due to the arrest of the Princess. Times are changing. At one time a Princess would never have been arrested in Turai, no matter the crime. A Praetor's son wouldn't have been arrested either. Now, with Senator Lodius's Populares increasing in power, the upper classes are feeling the pinch. Do them good maybe, having to obey the laws of the land. #15 в контекст | | |
I am dead tired. The heat of the night weighs me down. I could happily lie down and sleep where I am. The stress of the day and my tiredness is making my head pound; the prospect of facing my room, once more in ruins, makes it worse. We travel back in silence to Twelve Seas. Makri's thinking about Orcs. She tells me later that Pazaz had seen her fight in the arena, which made her feel even more like killing him. #16 в контекст | | |
"The next time I meet an Orc it'll take more than diplomatic protection to keep his head on his shoulders," she says before lapsing into gloomy silence. Neither of us has any inspiration. The night is oppressively warm and all I want to do is clear a space on my floor and sleep. Which is something I can't yet do, because there at the Avenging Axe, in his blue-edged Praetorian toga, is Cicerius in a landus, with his customary severe expression and a couple of servants looking nervous to find themselves in Twelve Seas in the middle of the night. #17 в контекст | | |
I've had my fill of the upper classes. I'm so tired I can't even be bothered to be rude. I just ask Cicerius if he can wait till tomorrow for the progress report on the Princess. #18 в контекст | | |
He hasn't come for a progress report. He's come to hire me to get his son off the hook. I fail to stifle a yawn, and lead him inside. I help myself to a flagon of ale from behind the bar and try to concentrate on what Cicerius has to say. I could cope with being Turai's cheapest Investigator but I'm finding it hard being the busiest. #19 в контекст | | |
