Chapter 8 – Part 15

Baruk frowned, drumming his fingers on the railing of the east wall. The sun was coming up on the 14th day of Zarantyr, and the guards were changing. The full-blooded orcs were heading below to escape the hard light, and the human members of the House were coming up. Gnolls and half-orcs were parts of both shifts.

He liked to be seen at the changing of the guard. He wanted to remind them all that he set the rules here.

It wasn’t that they weren’t disciplined. It wasn’t that they were likely to slack off at what they were supposed to do. It was that if they felt no one was leading them, the stark, creeping terror that was always present would go a little farther and farther until they would bolt.

He could tell them about magical defenses, and strength of arms, but morale was held together by actions, not words.

A gnoll came trotting up a ramp, and then quickly ascended a ladder. “Boss!” it coughed, in a passable orc that was only marred by an ever-present rasp. The throat wound had never healed right, but Beghk didn’t complain, her was lucky to be alive. “The one called Grullik is back.”

“What the Khyber?” growled Baruk, irritated. “Dancing Orphan kills the hag, so now everyone is going out by themselves?” This was a time for more vigilance, not less. The night hag was a known factor. What would replace her was unknown, and in that way, more dangerous.

Beghk gave a shrug while holding his hands out, palm up, curling and uncurling his fingers. Some one had once told the half-orc commander that gnolls did that to show uncertainty, specifically that they did not know which weapon was appropriate. “Grullik like to search, boss, he’s trying to be like Delegado.”

“He’s going to end up dead,” Baruk snorted. “Find him and send him to my office.” The gnoll nodded and ran off.

“Commander,” came a call from the wharf below. “Ship coming!”

“That’ll be the druid and the gnome, and none to soon,” Baruk said to himself. “Got to get a ceremony done, Grullik, what the Keeper are you playing at?”

Baruk turned around and looked over the compound. Delegado and the warforged were directing people into setting up for the memorial ceremony. Whatever the fiends had done to Bartemain’s body – and it was creepy, touching limbs that felt like a sand doll – the druid was here to give a blessing. And a day or two after that there would be a ship heading east, not west, and it would get Tatyanna’s brother the heck out of here.

Baruk had survival to deal with, he didn’t need to be stuck with House politics. The sooner Delegado was gone, the better.