ORCS: Army of Shadows by Stan Nicholls Page B

history.”
    “Maybe that’s something I can understand.”
    “Can you?”
    “You think orcs were the only downtrodden race on our world?”
    “You’re a human. Your kind does the treading.”
    “There are humans and humans.”
    “Isn’t it time you came clean about yourself?”
    “What’s to tell?” he came back stiffly.
    “Don’t close up on me.”
    “Would knowing my past change anything? I mean, haven’t I proven myself yet?”
    “You have to me. But most of the others…”
    “I give you my word that I had nothing to do with the theft of the star.”
    “And what would your partner say if I asked him about it?”
    “Standeven’s not my partner,” he returned sharply. “And he’d give you his word too.”
    “What value could I put on that?”
    “As much as I do.”
    “How much is that?”
    “If Standeven says he didn’t —”
    “Why are you so loyal to him, Jode?”
    He sighed. “Habit, I suppose. And not wanting to believe certain things even of him.”
    “What
is
the bond between you two?”
    “Complicated.”
    “Not enough. Tell me more.”
    He had to grin. “You’re persistent, Coilla, I’ll give you that.”
    “So reward me. Open up a bit. I’d like to know something about the man I owe my life to.”
    “How about that flask again?”
    She dug it out. He took another draught. Coilla had one too.
    “Well?” she said.
    “I’m a Trougathian.”
    “You’re a
what
?”
    “A Trougathian. After Trougath, the place we come from.”
    “Never heard of it.” There was a chair by her, and she sat.
    He followed her lead and perched on a barrel of nails. “The world you and I come from is much bigger than the part you call
     Maras-Dantia.”
    “And your race renamed Centrasia,” she replied with a trace of bitterness.
    “
Some
humans did. My sort didn’t get to name places.”
    “So what sort are they?”
    “A little like you orcs.”
    “Yeah?” She couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice.
    “Well, I said a
little
like. But there’s a couple of similarities. One is that my race has a martial tradition too.”
    “That explains your skill with a blade. So your race fights as a living, like we do?”
    “No. It’s not inborn with us; it’s learnt. Though over so long a time it practically
is
inborn now. But we’re not fighters by inclination, or even choice. It was just practical. Most of my race would prefer untroubled
     lives.”
    “If you didn’t choose to fight, you must have something to defend.”
    “Ourselves. And our land.”
    “The first I understand. But dying for land, that seems odd to me. Maybe because orcs never had any.”
    “They did here.”
    “And your race took it from them.” She raised her hands. “Sorry. Tell me about your land.”
    “Trougath’s an island off… well, it doesn’t really matter where it is. It’s large enough for us and the soil’s good. So’s
     the fish harvest. We’re islanders, we have an understanding with the sea. Most of all, it’s our homeland. But it’s got one
     flaw.”
    “Its location.”
    “You’re smart.”
    “For an orc, you mean?”
    “No, just smart.”
    “Stands to reason you’d only have enemies if there’s something you’ve got they want, or if you’re in the wrong place.”
    “I can see why you’re the band’s mistress of strategy. But you’re right; a very wrong place. At least, that’s what it became.
     Trougath stands at a point where it could threaten free passage for its several neighbours, had we wanted to do that, which
     we didn’t. So we sat in the middle of a wheel, each spoke sharpened and pointing at us. All the neighbouring states had a
     lustful eye on such a favourably placed island. Whoever took it could cow the others. That’s why my people embraced warfare,
     and kept them out.”
    “How come, if those nearby states were so strong?”
    “My people had been there since long before the rise of the powers that came to surround us. We were numerous and well