Nyla didn’t understand everything being said, but was
slowly catching on to Logan’s tactics. She ran one nger
across the warrior’s shoulder and up behind its ear. The captured orc moaned softly, and then whimpered.“You leave me nothing, pink-skin. If I not talk, you leaveme as toy to your female. If talk, you release me as outcast,never to rejoin The People, but live only as dog! I talk onone condition, dishonorable pink-skin. Tell me that you will
send me to Gurmmish with my honor intact.”
Logan shot a glance at Tarn. The former knightshrugged. “Your call.”Sighing, and wanting to avoid what he thought the orc was hinting at, but unsure of what else to say, he hedgedhis bets and replied, “I offer you my word, warrior of
Grummish. Now tell me, what clan are you?”
“Broken Claws.”“Who is the chief of your clan?”
“Grom Ten-Kill. ”
“Ten-Kill?”“Uggh. Yes, Ten-Kill. He once kill ten pink-skin warriors with single blow of his axe. He great warrior, lead our clanand several others.”“Others? How many others?”
The orc put up both hands and extended his ngers,
and began to drop them one at a time. “This many!”
Logan watched him begin to raise and lower
ngers at random.
An orc who can’t count. Big surprise!
“Why does your chief wage war on the pink-skins?