“Yes,” he said simply. “You can tell from the engraving of the cupuassu tree there. It’s a sacred tree for trolls.”
“Oh.” Jev snorted. He’d felt clever for figuring it out. “Got any idea why a troll would be spying on us?”
“Not in the least, no. But I doubt it’s anything good.”
6
As Zenia and Jev walked down the beach toward the town early the next morning, she was relieved that all sign of the storm had cleared and a warm sun brightened the sky. Snapped wooden boards, bottles, the remains of furnishings, and other flotsam sprawled along the high tide line. She didn’t know how much had come from their ship and how much had simply been floating at sea until the storm had driven it in.
“What is all that?” Zenia pointed to a sack Jev carried over his shoulder, though she also glanced at the collapsible spyglass he fiddled with as they walked.
He’d shown it to her when he returned the night before but only said someone had been watching them, possibly a troll. She’d yawned and said she would ask her dragon tear to keep an eye out, and had been tired enough to go to sleep after that. After she’d made sure he visited the healer to have the gash on his head sealed.
“Goods to trade if needed,” Jev said. “Slightly soggy goods, I’ll admit. Fortunately, the spices were in waterproof canisters. The little wooden carvings are… drying.”
“You don’t think we have funds to buy a map if we find a good one?” Zenia held up the damp folded map she had retrieved from the steamer. Fortunately, her cabin had survived the hydra largely unscathed, aside from the water that had flowed in from the passageway. Everything not bolted down had been hurled to one side, but she’d dug out her belongings, including the other two library books she wanted to read and return to Alderoth Castle.
“We have funds, but I’m trying not to draw attention to that. The natives are already overly interested in us.” Jev looked down at the spyglass.
“You said a troll had that and was watching us?”
“We didn’t see the troll—though the engineering assistant shot at someone. We’re just guessing on the race of the owner based on the design.”
“Do you think we’re of interest because we came in Targyon’s big steamer?” Zenia asked. “Or because of my quest?”
“I don’t see how anyone here could have anticipated you or your quest, but we’ll be careful not to talk about it where people can overhear. And maybe we should slip out before dawn with our team when it’s time to leave.” Jev pointed at the route ahead. “That could be problematic.”
A large obstacle stood in the middle of the road that led along the waterfront and into town. An ogre.
It was the first one Zenia had seen outside of paintings and books. The orangish-skinned creature—man?—stood shirtless and barefoot, legs spread as if he was waiting to brawl with anyone who walked near. He held a club propped on his shoulder next to his shaggy green-blond hair, and he would have looked like some prehistoric warrior, but a firearm half the size of a cannon hung from his belt, and a bandolier of large shells for it draped diagonally across his torso.
“I concur,” Zenia murmured.
The ogre stared straight at them.
“Let’s see how much he’s going to charge to let us in,” Jev said. “There was a human-ish being in that fee-collection party yesterday, and I heard traders were welcome, or at least tolerated here.”
“We’re not in Tika, though, are we?” That was where Zenia had heard that traders were welcome. It had been their original destination.
“No, we ended up about ten miles down the coastline.”
“No humans today,” the ogre rumbled as they approached, frowning down at them as if they were pesky rodents. He wore a choker with a tiny ruby embedded in it, the gem glowing when he spoke.
Zenia realized he hadn’t spoken in the kingdom tongue but that she’d understood his words. Her dragon tear told her the ruby was magic, and she guessed it was a translation device.
“Why not?” Jev asked. “We have goods to trade.”
“Allotment fulfilled,” the ogre said, having no trouble understanding their language. “Come back next month.”
Zenia might have thought the ogre was joking, but he rubbed the smooth grip of his club, looking more like he wanted an excuse to use it than to trade jokes.
“How many humans are allowed in the city at any given time?” Jev asked, but he looked at Zenia and widened his eyes slightly.
He didn’t glance toward her dragon tear, which she’d hidden beneath her shirt this morning, but she knew what he wanted.
“Five,” the ogre said. “We have six currently. An infestation.”
“However did that happen?” Jev asked.
“Two were a couple. They paid the mayor so they could stay together.”
“Could we pay the mayor?” Zenia asked, taking over their side of the conversation as she made herself gaze into the ogre’s eyes. She willed her dragon tear to assist her in swaying him into allowing them in. “Or perhaps if an extra coin fell into your hand, you could forget you saw us? We only need to come in for a couple of hours. Then we’ll leave. No need to add us to the official count.”
She sensed her dragon tear adding persuasive magic to her words.
The ogre hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. Since it was early, few people were out on the streets. Nobody was looking in this direction.
“If a gold coin fell into my hand,” he said, “I might lose count of the humans here. I’m not good with numbers.”
“Surely, a silver coin would suffice.” Zenia smiled, though she had no idea if smiles meant anything to his kind.
Jev stirred at her side but didn’t say anything.
“Two silver coins for the two humans I’m not counting this morning.”
Zenia looked at Jev. He snorted and slipped two coins out of his purse. The ogre stuck his free hand out. The coins were ridiculously small on his palm. He dropped them into a pocket without further comment.
“Is there a place in town that sells maps?” Zenia asked, trying to peer into his thoughts to see if any shops popped into his head. A two-story inn came to his mind, followed by an image of using one of his new coins to buy the ogre waitress there a mug of the local grog. She would be so enamored with him that she would leap into his arms and tear off his—
Zenia jerked out of his thoughts. “Never mind,” she blurted.
The ogre tilted his head in a puzzled expression.
“We’ll find it on our own.” Zenia walked past slowly, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind.
The ogre merely gazed toward the wreck, assuming his stoic guard stance again. Jev also passed without incident.
“I didn’t imagine that we’d still have to bribe him if you manipulated him with your gem,” Jev said dryly.
“The manipulation doesn’t last long after the fact. I didn’t want him racing after us if he realized he’d been duped. This way… Well, I’m fairly certain he’ll be racing to the inn once he recovers.”
“What’s at the inn?”
“A female ogre. And maybe someone with a map.” Zenia pointed to the two-story building she’d seen in the ogre’s mind.
A couple of trolls walked out of a bait store nearby and looked over at them. It wasn’t an interested look, but Jev still slowed his pace, as if he didn’t want to pass close to them.
“You don’t recognize them, do you?” Zenia asked.
“No. I’m wary of all trolls right now.”
“Let’s talk to them.” Zenia smiled and waved at them, thinking she might see something useful in their thoughts. Hydal had questioned people and brought back the results of his intelligence-gathering the night before, but he hadn’t had a dragon tear.
Jev hesitated, and she thought he might leave her to talk to them alone, but he jogged to catch up. “I try to avoid those who make me wary, not wander up to chat with them.”
“That’s not a good way to gather information.”
“No, but it’s a good way not to be thumped by races with inimical feelings toward humans.” Despite his words, Jev rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and puffed out his chest as they approached the trolls.
Zenia knew he would fight if he needed to, likely putting himself in front of her to protect her.
“Greetings, fishermen,” Zenia said, waving to their bait buckets and poles. “A troll lost something out by our wreck last night, and we were wondering if you knew anything about it.” She pointed to Jev’s hand.
He quirked an eyebrow but wordlessly raised the spyglass. One of the trolls stared blankly at it and spread his hands in a gesture that seemed the equivalent of a shrug. The other took a quick step back, his eyes growing round.
“You recognize it,” Zenia said, focusing on that troll and trying to see his thoughts. “Who does it belong to? It’s not yours, is it?”
The troll spoke quickly but unfortunately not in the kingdom tongue. And these two weren’t wearing any magical devices that translated the words. Zenia glanced at Jev, wondering if he understood any of it, but the troll broke off, shaking his head vigorously. The memory of a person flashed into his mind.
Zenia’s breath caught because it was almost the exact same image her dragon tear had shared with her the first day of their voyage. A dark cloaked figure standing in dark, misty shadows, a hood obscuring the face.
The troll who hadn’t recognized the spyglass said something impatient and pointed to the rising sun and the docks.
His buddy mumbled something in agreement, and they hustled away, almost running as they turned onto a pier that already held a few fishermen and women from the various races.
“Did you find that encounter more illuminating than I did?” Jev asked.
Zenia bit her lip, hesitant to share what she’d sensed because she wasn’t certain she’d understood correctly. Had the troll truly been thinking about the same person her dragon tear had warned her about? Or had the gem taken that moment to share the warning again? Maybe it had nothing to do with what had been in the troll’s thoughts.
“He seemed to recognize the spyglass. Or maybe the feather.” Jev held up the spyglass and tapped his finger on the large green feather to make it sway.
“I’m not sure,” Zenia said, “but if you see someone in a dark cloak and hood, he or she may have the answers we need. Or he or she may be someone we should avoid completely.”
“I’ll keep watch.” Jev touched her arm and nodded toward the inn.
They walked inside and found it quiet, save for a couple of orcs hunkered near a hearth and cutting pieces of meat off a spit being bathed by flames. The orcs looked at them, their expressions sullen, but turned back to their breakfast without comment.
Seeing orcs, their squashed noses, yellow skin, and dark eyes similar to those of the orc swordsman from her nightmare, made Zenia’s stomach twist and turn, almost as if she were back at sea. She was tempted to skitter away from them and had to rest a hand on a nearby table to steady herself.
Since orcs were the ones who held the dragon, wouldn’t it be best to ask any orcs she saw if they knew anything about the situation? It seemed that imprisoning a dragon would be big news that might make its way to other tribes and cities throughout Izstara.
“There’s your female ogre.” Jev ignored the orcs and pointed to a being almost as large as the bouncer in the street.
The ogre—ogress?—lay on her back on a long wooden bar, snoring, with the loose fabric of her pink dress dangling down beside her. The sheer size of that dress, with hundreds of tiny green and yellow flowers spattered across the material like stars in the night sky, was mind-boggling.
The ogress had to weigh three hundred or even four hundred pounds. Thank the founders whoever had crafted that bar had been a skilled woodworker who hadn’t skimped on quality materials.
“I wonder if she’s the owner. And the person likely to have a map. One with a few more terrain features and roads than yours.” Jev offered a lopsided smile.
They had both gone over the map and noted its deficiencies. The coast and the features near the shoreline had been well-detailed, but it had been clear the cartographer hadn’t traveled inland much.
“We can ask her if we can wake her.” Zenia had assumed from the male ogre’s thoughts that she had been a waitress, but she supposed it was possible she owned the place and could nap when she wished without repercussion. If a four-hundred-pound ogre wanted to own an inn, who would stop her? “I’d like to try talking with them first.”
She pointed at the pair of orcs.
“I don’t think they’re any more likely to speak our language than the trolls. I know a few words of Northern Orcish, but I doubt that’s what they speak.”
“My dragon tear will help. Why don’t you see if you can charm the ogress into sharing a recent map with you? Or pointing you toward someone who can?” Zenia handed him her folded map, figuring it might help convey what they wanted.
“Charm her?” Jev eyed the large female form.
“Tell her that her dress is lovely.”
“Is it? I’m not the best judge of such things.” He touched his eyes, reminding her of his colorblindness.
“I assure you, it suits her perfectly.” She patted his arm, stuck the map in his hand, and waved him toward the bar.
Though he wore a dubious expression, he headed over.
Zenia took a deep breath to brace herself and walked toward the orcs. She hadn’t had bad experiences with any of the handful of their kind that she’d seen before in Korvann, but that had been years ago, before it had grown so rare to see other races in the port city. Yet her heart was racing, and sweat broke out, dampening her palms. Was this reaction because of her nightmares? Because her dragon tear—and the linked dragon—had learned to find orcs alarming? Or was there something dangerous and evil about these two that she somehow sensed?
“Good morning,” she said, not wanting to sneak up on them. Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat and lifted her chin. Damn it, she wouldn’t allow memories of dreams to affect her. “Do you understand me, by chance?”
The orcs turned slowly, crouching on their haunches, large chunks of meat gripped in their hands. Shreds of that meat—she couldn’t identify it by the scent, and it didn’t smell like it was spiced with anything except a char from the flames—dangled from their large teeth. Far more of those teeth were pointed than in a human mouth, and two tusks stuck out even when their lips were sealed.
“I’m afraid I don’t speak your language, but I was wondering if you’d heard of a tribe of your people that have a dragon for a prisoner.” Zenia almost reached for her necklace to pull out her dragon tear so she could point to the carving and see if that sparked any recognition, but she realized it wouldn’t be a good idea to show off such a valuable gem.
“Dragon,” one orc said slowly, the word almost unrecognizable. Was it possible the word was similar in their language?
The orc looked at his buddy and repeated it. They shared smirks—the fangs and tusks made the gestures alarming.
“Dragon,” the other one said, then looked at her chest and grabbed his crotch.
“Uh.” Zenia hadn’t come very close, but she took a few steps back. She’d occasionally wondered how half-orcs came to exist in the world, as a pairing between a human and an orc seemed less likely than one between an elf and a human, but she could make some guesses.
“Not that kind of dragon.” She pointed to the sky and spread her arms to simulate wings. “Do you know of any dragons in the jungle that are kept by your people?” She willed her dragon tear to share mental images with them, the same as from the dreams she had experienced—maybe they would recognize the face of the orc that kept her prisoner.
But her dragon tear shared only a mulish reluctance to have anything to do with these thugs. More than that, when the pair rose to their full height—an impressive seven feet—and faced Zenia fully, fear emanated from the gem.
> Zenia had never sensed that from her dragon tear and didn’t know how to respond. Distracted, she almost let one of the beefy orcs grab her, the one who’d also grabbed his groin.
She sprang back in time to avoid the lazy snatch but bumped into a chair. It toppled to the floor.
“Shield,” she whispered, urging her dragon tear to create a barrier around her as it had so many times before.
But the gem quailed—she sensed the soul within shrinking into itself.
The orc’s eyes closed to slits, and this time, he lunged toward her with more purpose. His buddy leered and urged him on in their language.
Someone stepped in front of Zenia from behind, and the orcs halted abruptly. Jev.
He placed himself between her and them, extending his sword. At first, the orcs merely sneered, showing off those long fangs, but he whispered the elven command to bring the blade to life, and it glowed silver. The inn was dim with few windows, so the glow was prominent. The orcs halted their advances and stared at it. One uttered what sounded like a question.
Zenia thought that might end the confrontation, that they might back off. But the second one answered the question with a few dismissive-sounding words and chopped his hand in the air.
They sprang at Jev as one, startling Zenia. She rushed to back up and get out of the way.
Jev wasn’t startled. He was already in a loose ready stance, and he jabbed the sword toward the closest orc’s shoulder with lightning speed. His foe leaped back, yelping in anger more than pain.
Anticipating an attack from the second orc, Jev whipped his blade over toward him. The air blurred with its silver glow, and a clang of metal sounded as his sword struck a short sword that Zenia hadn’t seen the orc draw.
The injured one yanked a dagger out of a belt sheath and jumped on a table, trying to get at Jev from behind. But Jev was too fast. He leaped around another table, putting it between him and his foe, and then darted in to renew his attack on the sword-wielder. He raced in and out, lunging to attack and then springing out of reach, with the speed of an elf. He cut them half a dozen times and kept them from surrounding him.
Dragon Tear (Agents of the Crown Book 5) Page 8