Whiska was almost as powerful as she was offensive, which was saying something, because she was easily the most offensive creature I’d ever met. She seemed incapable of making a statement without insulting someone, and her ability to work a slight into a response to even a simple question like “Can I offer you some breakfast?” was truly impressive (example: “You could, but you’d still be a poorly dressed tree humper.”). Interestingly, she didn’t seem to care one way or the other whether you were offended by what she said, which made her insults seem more like a verbal tic than a genuine attempt to hurt feelings. It quickly became apparent that she was as loyal as she was rude, berating a guardsman in one of the towns we passed through for suggesting that Borg was, perhaps, not the swiftest rabbit in the warren. When she finished, the man not only apologized profusely, but broke down in tears and sobbed hysterically. When Nadi thanked Whiska for standing up for their companion, she insulted Nadi for suggesting that she would do anything other than defend her friends.
Speaking of Borg, he most certainly was not the swiftest rabbit in the warren (to be fair to the now-emasculated town guardsman), but nor was he the dumbest rock in the box—far from it, actually. It was like he lived two minutes in the past and was having conversations with our past selves in what was, for him, real-time. Throw in the fact that the common tongue was his second language and Borg seemed simple, but he was actually fairly intelligent, highly empathetic, and, like Whiska, very loyal to people with whom he hadn’t been traveling for all that long. I couldn’t help but like him, even if I didn’t particularly enjoy his near-constant need to defecate at inconvenient times.
That leaves Nadi. Nadi was clearly competent, strong, and a natural leader. She was quiet and thoughtful, but when she spoke, she spoke with authority. Nadi was more reserved than the others, so I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what made her tick. I figured her father’s death at the hands of orc raiders had spurred her desire to become an adventurer, but she said that had little to do with it, though she wouldn’t tell me what had. She rarely lowered her guard, though she sometimes loosened up around Rummy, who she clearly adored despite frowning upon his habit of taking things that didn’t belong to him. She also had a very bad habit of staring a hole right through your head, though she did it to me more than the others, so maybe she just took a while to get used to new people. And, it’s not like I’m not used to being stared at, both as a performer and as a “paragon of ethereal beauty” (again, not my words—that’s how Kenneth the Pretty Okay Sometimes Wandering but Usually Sedentary Minstrel once described me; I should note that Kenneth was much better at sweet-talking than he was at marketing himself).
By the time we neared the orc encampment, I had a much better understanding of my new companions and, for the first time, at least a vague sense of hope that they might actually be able to defeat the dragon. I hadn’t actually seen them in battle yet, though, so I was reserving judgment until after our encounter with the orcs—assuming we survived it.
“I realize that my job on this journey is to act as a chronicler,” I said, “but, just out of curiosity, do we have any sort of plan for when we actually encounter the orcs?”
“Besides turning them into orc jelly?” asked Whiska.
“Please tell me that’s just a particularly graphic way of describing how violently you’ll kill them and not a Ratarian toast topper,” I replied.
“Why can’t it be both?”
“I need to get a better sense of how the encampment is laid out,” interjected Nadi (thankfully). “Do you know how close we are?”
“We’re still a few miles away, I think,” I replied. “Maybe a little less.”
“Let’s go another half mile or so—after that, I’ll go ahead alone to scout things out.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Rummy.
“Sending more than one of us would increase the chances that we’re seen, and I’m the best choice for this sort of thing, given my ability to move quietly and, ah, not necessarily kill everything I see.” Nadi looked at Whiska. “No offense.”
“Why would I be offended by the truth? Personally, I think not killing everything you see is a sign of weakness.”
“Remind me to remain unseen by Whiska,” said Rummy.
We continued on for another ten minutes before taking shelter in a copse of trees well off the main road that would provide cover while Nadi undertook her scouting mission.
With nothing to do but wait, Rummy decided to cook dinner. Borg lit a fire while Rummy busied himself slicing up vegetables and dropping them into a pot that looked far too large to have come out Rummy’s pack. When he started pulling out an array of jars and bottles containing various oils and spices that clearly would not have fit into his bag, at least not without constantly clanking, I raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the absurdly large collection of cooking paraphernalia.
“Oh, this?” Rummy surveyed his implements. “Just because one is traveling doesn’t mean that one can’t enjoy a good meal.” He picked up one of the spice bottles. “I realize that Sunderlen ginger root isn’t necessary for all meals—though a little pinch of it will do nicely in this one—but I’d hate to be without it when I need it, you know?”
“I was less questioning your particular spice selections than I was how much room you have in your trunk there.” I motioned toward his bag. “Especially for someone with such a small trunk.”
He shrugged as he considered his pack. “It was a gift from a former employer, now deceased, sadly.”
“Bequest or burglary?”
“Well, he didn’t pass until several years after the bag came into my possession.”
“Natural or suspicious causes?” I asked.
“He was affected by unfortunate circumstances.”
“Excellent use of the passive voice and vague details,” I remarked.
“Tools of the trade,” replied Rummy.
“Sunderlen ginger root…is very spicy,” interjected Borg.
“It does have a little kick,” said Rummy with a nod. He pointed toward his pack. “Anyway, I can fit pretty much anything I need to in that thing, and it’s as light as some leather.”
“Don’t you mean ‘light as a feather’?” I asked.
“Well, it has some weight to it, and it’s made of leather, so…”
I walked right into that one.
Rummy’s vegetable stew was excellent, and we all assumed comfortable positions as we waited for Nadi’s return. I confess that mine was somewhat less ladylike than maybe it should have been, but, come on…have you ever tried to relax in tight leggings after eating stew?
Nadi returned a short while later, nodding her thanks to Rummy as he handed her a bowl of stew. “How’s it look?” he asked.
Nadi chewed and swallowed a bite before she responded. “That’s good.” She wiped her lips and idly stirred her stew. “The main entrance is heavily guarded, but no surprise there—I wasn’t exactly planning on a full-frontal assault anyway.” She took another bite. “About four hundred yards from the main entrance, though, there’s a weak point in their perimeter that I think we can get in through. There are some sentries, but if we time it right, we should be able to avoid them.”