I put on a brave face. "Greetings, Horm the Dead. All is well with you, I trust?" #51 в контекст | | |
"I warned you to stay well away from me." He demands to know what brings me here. #52 в контекст | | |
"A letter of credit which the Prince very unwisely gave to Glixius Dragon Killer." #53 в контекст | | |
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"I'm sorry, Horm. We just can't let such a thing fall into your hands. Praetor Cicerius offers to redeem it for the full amount." #55 в контекст | | |
This is a lie but I'm hoping to buy some time. Horm the Dead shakes his head. He isn't interested in selling us the Prince's note. #56 в контекст | | |
"I have other plans for it, Thraxas. Do you think I'd be such a fool as to sell it for its face value? #57 в контекст | | |
Once I have it in my hands the Royal Family will find themselves paying me for the rest of their lives to keep the matter quiet." #58 в контекст | | |
"The King of Turai does not pay blackmailers," I say, with dignity. #59 в контекст | | |
Horm the Dead laughs. "He does if he doesn't want to be swept out of power by the Populares." #60 в контекст | | |
The Orcs draw in tighter around us. They're ugly. Ugly and well armed, with scimitars and hunting bows. #61 в контекст | | |
"How can you dare to confront me, Thraxas? You have so little power." #62 в контекст | | |
"People often say that to me. But I get by somehow." #63 в контекст | | |
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"A child's toy," I reply, and hurl it at the ground where it explodes with a flash of light and a series of powerful, reverberating crashes. The multiple firecracker causes Horm's horse to rear in terror. The Orcs behind him likewise fight to control their mounts. Makri and I need no encouragement. We're through their lines at a gallop and into the forest before anyone has time to loose an arrow at us. #66 в контекст | | |
"Nice move," yells Makri, yanking her visor back to see better in the gloom. #67 в контекст | | |
It was a nice move. Only a smart guy like myself would know that Turanian horses are used to fire-crackers because they encounter them at our festivals. To an Orc's horse from the Wastelands, it must have come as quite a surprise. #68 в контекст | | |
We pound along the trail, slowing as the branches droop. Behind us we hear sounds of pursuit but this forest path is a difficult place to chase anyone, as the branches are too low and the undergrowth too thick. #69 в контекст | | |
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Suddenly we burst into a clearing, a beautiful stretch of grass and flowers with a sparkling stream running down into a rocky pool. Standing beside the pool is a unicorn. #74 в контекст | | |
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"Wow," says Makri, as the unicorn looks at us, unconcerned, and carries on drinking. I join it, scooping up some water to splash over my face. #76 в контекст | | |
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"Everything's safe in the Fairy Glade, Makri. Provided you don't stay the night." #78 в контекст | | |
Four Fairies, each about six inches tall and wearing brightly coloured garments, flutter out of the trees and hover in front of Makri's face, examining her. Four more appear, and then more, till eventually Makri is completely surrounded by small silver-winged Fairies. They start to land on her arms, and walk over her head and shoulders. #79 в контекст | | |
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Somewhere a flute is playing, very gently. The Orcs can't reach us here. Strange though it seems, we forget all about them, and sit down to rest and watch the Fairies, and the unicorns and the Dryads that appear from the trees, and the Naiads that surface from the pool to play with the butterflies. #81 в контекст | | |
"I like this place," says Makri, removing her body armour. #82 в контекст | | |
I like it too. I'm surprised. I thought I'd become too much of a cynic. #83 в контекст | | |
"What's that?" asks Makri as a half-man, half-horse trots into view. #84 в контекст | | |
"A Centaur. Pretty intelligent, by all accounts. Lascivious too." #85 в контекст | | |
The Centaur approaches. Like all the magical creatures here he seems completely unconcerned by our presence. He halts in front of Makri, staring appreciatively at her curves. Makri shifts a little uncomfortably. #86 в контекст | | |
"Seen enough?" she says querulously, as the Centaur keeps on staring. #87 в контекст | | |
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"Pardon me," says the Centaur, pleasantly. "Force of habit." #89 в контекст | | |
He makes to leave. I remember what I'm here for. "Excuse me," I say. "We're looking for some sacks of dwa." #90 в контекст | | |
The Centaur frowns, and looks at me accusingly. "Bringing such a thing into the Glade is a violation." #91 в контекст | | |
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I give him a brief rundown of events, stressing heavily that myself and Makri are on the side of law and order. #93 в контекст | | |
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"We believe in peace and love," says Makri, which is curious coming from a woman currently carrying an axe, two swords and God knows how many knives and throwing stars. I can't imagine where Makri picked up such an odd phrase but it seems to go down well. The Centaur likes the sound of peace and love. So do the Fairies. They're clustering round Makri like bees round honey, flying round her, walking over her, playing with her hair. Obviously they love her. Makri basks in the sunshine and the attention, happy as an Elf in a tree. The Fairies don't take much notice of me. #95 в контекст | | |
"I'll take you to the sacks," says the Centaur, who introduces himself as Taur. "We will be pleased if you remove them. Although they were not prevented from entering the Glade, we did not like the people who brought them. They were Orc friends." #96 в контекст | | |
We walk past the pool where the Naiads are combing their long golden tresses. The water spirits are young, beautiful and naked. Twenty years ago I'd have dived right in the pool. Oh to be young. Taur leads us through the clearing and under the shadow of some massive old oak trees. It's so cool and pleasant that I have a strong urge to sleep. I shake it off. It's only midday but we can't waste time. #97 в контекст | | |
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"We're making progress," I tell Makri. All we have to do is get hold of the dwa and we can trade with Glixius for the note." #99 в контекст | | |
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