“And once you—well, we—get inside?” I said.
“The encampment’s too big for us to take out entirely, unfortunately. If we go in under cover of darkness, I think we can at least get the chief and the shaman—if I know anything about orcs, that should start some major infighting that, at the very least, should buy everyone in the region a few weeks of peace while they sort things out.”
“Don’t worry,” said Whiska, “we’ll kill as many of them as possible. And maybe grind some of them into sparkling wine.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing,” I replied.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “Why do you think people always talk about popping the orc before they open a bottle?”
I waited for Whiska to guffaw, or chuckle, or even just crack a tiny smile—something, anything to congratulate herself on her terrible pun. Her expression didn’t change in the slightest and, after an awkward moment of silence, I realized that she was completely serious. Deadly serious, even.
“I don’t think that’s exactly what…you know what? Never mind. It’s not important.” I looked at the sky and noted that the sun had just about dipped below the horizon. “I’d say we’ve got about four hours or so until midnight, so we might as well get some rest.” I laid out my bedroll next to the fire. “Think we’re safe here, Nadi?”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe, Heloise.” Nadi’s response was strangely intense, and she gave me a look that indicated either fierce conviction or long-term constipation (though I suppose those two things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive).
“Ah…right. Thanks. Guess I’ll get some sleep, then.” I slid into my bedroll and closed my eyes.
“I will…keep watch,” said Borg.
“Aren’t you tired?” I murmured without opening my eyes. Around me, I could hear the others bedding down.
A moment passed and silence ensued, broken only by an occasional bird call or buzzing insect. Then, a gravelly voice spoke. “Rock giants…need very little…sleep.”
Entirely too short a time passed before Nadi was gently shaking my shoulder to wake me up. I blinked my eyes to find her crouching next to me and looking down at me with a small smile. “It’s time,” she said, letting her hand linger on my shoulder.
I sat up, stretched, and yawned. Nadi’s hand was still on my shoulder. I looked at her quizzically, and she stood up quickly. I couldn’t tell for sure, given her tan complexion, but I think she blushed. I decided not to say anything, which is pretty much like a skrindip refusing a latcha leaf (and I’ve seen skrindips kill badgers to get a latcha leaf). But, every once in a while I like to display some self-control.
We packed up our stuff (with much of it disappearing into Rummy’s bag—I really needed to get one of those) and headed down the road toward the encampment. As we walked, Nadi quietly detailed her plan.
“We’ll veer off the road in a bit and travel through the woods the rest of the way. Whiska and I will breach the perimeter first and take out any sentries that are nearby. Once we give the all-clear, the rest of you will follow us in. From there, we’ll skirt the main thoroughfares within the encampment to get to the shaman’s tent and take him down first. If we do that quietly enough, we go for the chief. If we raise any kind of alarm, we get out as quickly as possible. Understood?” Nadi looked at Whiska. “No going off script.”
Whiska made a gesture that was simultaneously dismissive and rude. I made a mental note to remember it. It seemed like something I could use frequently.
“All right,” whispered Nadi, “let’s do it.”
Nadi led us off the path and into the deep gloom of the woods. Shimmery stars gave us just enough light that we didn’t stumble into every single object that could have bruised sensitive shins—just most of them. After several minutes of Borg loudly crunching through the underbrush and Nadi wincing with each snapped stick, she called a halt. “You three,” she said, pointing to Rummy, Borg, and me, “wait here. With any luck, we’ll be back within the hour.”
“Wait a minute,” I replied, holding up my hand very authoritatively. Most things I do are very authoritative, in fact, except dancing the Flamnllewllyn, a traditional elvish dance, which I did very tentatively (but only because “Flamnllewllyn” translates as “Dance of the Tentative Feet”). “You hired me to tell your story, right?” I tilted my head from side to side as I considered my phrasing. “Well, more accurately, you promised me a share of theoretical treasure to tell your story. Right?”
Nadi nodded slowly. “Yes…”
“So, it stands to reason that I need to know what your story is so I can tell it properly. Right?”
“I suppose,” said Nadi. “But, I don’t want you to—”
“Nadi,” I interrupted (authoritatively), “I’m a bard. I eat danger for breakfast. And scones. I really like scones. Ideally with chocolate chips. Or cinnamon. But not both at the same time.”
“Well,” she said, fidgeting…not quite nervously, but maybe uncomfortably. “I wasn’t so much worried about the danger as, well…Whiska and I need to move quickly and efficiently, and having an extra person with us might…might…” She trailed off.
“Oh…oh, I see. Yeah. I see how it is. Heloise can’t take care of herself. Right. She’s certainly never been in a fight before. Not once. She never took down a troll with a knife and a torch. She never disarmed a dark elf with a spoon. She never killed a goblin with a song.” (Two out of three of those things are true…I’ll let you figure out which two.)
“Please, Heloise,” said Nadi, “it’s not that I don’t have confidence in your ability to handle yourself—I do. And I very much want to see how you handle yourself.” She paused, seemed to consider her words, and then blushed, and a light very belatedly went on in my head. “Just…can you just wait here? Please?”
“No,” I replied, though I kept my tone soft. “I can’t. Not if I’m going to do this group any justice.” I smiled. “Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. Really.”
“Wait a second,” interjected Whiska, looking from Nadi, still blushing, to me. “You—you like her!” she said to Nadi (somewhat accusingly, I thought).
“No! I’m just…just worried about her. And…and we haven’t seen her fight…”
“You like her!” shouted Whiska again.
“Quiet!” said Rummy, somehow using a loud whisper. “You’ll give us away, you walking drain clog!”
Everyone braced themselves for Whiska’s response. Whiska blinked and looked at Rummy for a full moment before she nodded. “That wasn’t bad.”
“Thank you. Now, Nadi, whatever your feelings on the subject, I think Heloise is right—she needs to go with you. She needs to be part of the action for our plan to work. Besides, I’m pretty sure she can, um, handle herself. Boy, does that sound awkward now.”
“It’s funny…that she likes…women because…her name is…” began Borg thoughtfully before Nadi cut him off.