Orcs Read Online Free Page B

floor.
    Jup gave a low, appreciative whistle. “That’s more than I’ve seen in all my days.”
    Haskeer, his dispute with the dwarf forgotten for the moment, nodded in agreement. “Think of its value!”
    “What say we sample it?” Jup suggested hopefully.
    Haskeer added his own petition. “It wouldn’t hurt, Captain. Don’t we deserve that much after pulling off this mission?”
    “I don’t know . . .”
    Coilla looked pensive but held her tongue.
    Alfray eyed the cylinder in Stryke’s belt and injected a note of caution. “It wouldn’t be wise to keep the Queen waiting
too
long.”
    Stryke didn’t seem to hear. He scooped a palmful of the fine crystals and let them trickle slowly through his fingers. “This cache is worth a small fortune in coin and influence. Think how it would swell our mistress’s coffers.”
    “Exactly,”
Jup eagerly concurred. “Look at it from her point of view. Our mission successfully accomplished, victory in the battle and a queen’s ransom of crystal lightning to boot. She’ll probably promote you!”
    “Dwell on this, Captain,” Haskeer said. “Once delivered into the Queen’s hands, how much of it are
we
ever likely to see? There’s enough human in her to make the answer to that question no mystery to me.”
    That did it.
    Stryke dusted the last crystals from his hands. “What she doesn’t know about won’t hurt her,” he decided, “and starting out an hour or two later won’t make
that
much difference. And when she sees what we’ve brought, even Jennesta’s going to be satisfied.”

3
    Some endure the frustration of their will with grace and forbearance. Others see obstacles to their gratification as intolerable burdens. The former embody admirable stoicism. The latter are dangerous.
    Queen Jennesta belonged firmly in the second category. And she was growing impatient.
    The warband she had entrusted with the sacred mission, the Wolverines, had yet to return. She knew the battle was over, and that it went in her favour, but they had not brought their monarch what she craved.
    When they came she would have them skinned alive. If they had failed in their task she would inflict a much worse fate.
    An entertainment had been arranged for her while she waited. It was necessary and practical as well as promising a certain pleasure. As usual, it would take place here in her
sanctum sanctorum
, the innermost of her private quarters.
    The chamber, deep below her palace at Cairnbarrow, was constructed of stone. A dozen pillars supported the distant vaulted ceiling. Just enough light was provided by a scattering of candelabra and guttering brands, for Jennesta favoured shadows.
    Wall hangings depicted complex cabalistic symbols. The floor’s time-worn granite blocks were covered by woven rugs bearing equally arcane designs. A high-backed wooden chair, ornately carved but not quite a throne, stood next to an iron brazier of glowing coals.
    Two features dominated the apartment. One was a solid chunk of black marble that served as an altar. The other was set in front of and below it, of the same material but white, and shaped like a long, low table or couch.
    A silver chalice stood on the altar. By it lay a curved dagger, its hilt inlaid with gold, runic devices etched into the blade. Alongside was a small hammer with a weighty, rounded head. It was decorated and inscribed in a similar way.
    The white slab had a pair of shackles at each end. She ran her fingertips, slowly and lightly, along its surface. The smooth coolness of the marble felt sensuous to her touch.
    A rap at the studded oak door broke her reverie.
    “Come.”
    Two Imperial Guards herded in a human prisoner at spear point. Chained hand and foot, the man wore only a loincloth. Around thirty seasons old, he was typical of his race in standing head and shoulders taller than the orcs prodding him forward. Bruises discoloured his face. Dried blood encrusted his blond hair and beard. He walked stiffly, partly due