Chapter 8 – Part 16

“Your headband tell you what this is about?” Delegado asked, his huge biceps straining as he shifted the stone bier. Bartemain’s body lay on it, covered by a linen shroud.

“You are trying to align the bier, which is a quadrilateral with right angles, so that the top and center of your father’s head is aligned with the rising son,” Orphan recited. Delegado recognized the sing-song quality of the warforged’s voice when Orphan was repeating whatever data was built into the artifact he wore on his head. He was also impressed with the fact that the warforged was saying it in orc. Orphan spoke nothing else now, as he was hard bent on mastering the language. “This is a druidic ritual that acknowledges light and heat from the sky as the source for true life. It’s general druidic, but with a flavor of Gatekeeper. The ritual will involve placing a representative of the classical elements on each corner, then casting spells designed to purify the body’s remains. This honors your family, as they strive to keep his body natural, and it honors him, as it is believed to be free whatever vestige of trapped spirit that may remain.”

“Right,” Delegado said, finally setting the bier correctly. He sighed and stretched. “And there will be a eulogy, and I will shed one tear.” The half-orc hadn’t realized that he spoke that aloud until he saw the warforged nod.

“I didn’t get that from the headband,” Orphan stated. “I just figured the war orcs are about showing grief, when they actually do it, it’s tightly controlled.”

“Good guess,” Delegado said. He took a water canteen off of his belt clip and took a swig. “You still have that hag’s magic stone?”

“Baruk said that by law of battle it is mine,” Orphan said. “I figured I’d sell it in the Marches, you’d tell me where. Get myself a snake.”

“A ‘stake,’” Delegado corrected him. “Starting money. Yeah, I’ll help you find a good buyer.” He put the canteen back. “The ship with supplies is here, druid will be by after he disembarks, they’ll do the ceremony within an hour or so.”

“The ship will continue on, so it’s not important,” Orphan said. “But the next one is eastbound, right?”

“Yeah,” Delegado said. He was not looking forward to that part. He found his hand straying to his sword hilt.

A stone and wood hand reached out and clapped itself on Delegado’s shoulder. “I’m the only one who disarms anyone,” the warforged said.

Delegado forced a smile, if a hollow one. The cocky idiot machine had never met Tatyanna.