Lady Of The Helm (Book 1) Read Free Page B

their hands up when the Governor told them to.  Nordag hadn’t seen the point, but the Governor had said it was important to observe the formalities. 
    Nordag rather wished the Governor hadn’t bothered or at least chosen someone or something else.  He was a fighting ogre, a warrior hardened by single combat and triumphant on the battle field.  That was his chosen forum, where clubs and swords had the deciding votes and mouths were for the fearsome battle cries, not mewling arguments about percentage tax returns or decisions on this freehold or that.
    Still, Nordag had his way of getting things done. He’d only had to use his club a few times in council meetings to find that people learned to agree with him quickly.  It wasn’t that the problems they presented went away, just that they decided they had rather sort it out themselves, than tell Nordag it hadn’t or couldn’t be done.  In fact more recently the ten of them, or as it now was eight of them, had become so effective at preventing problems that council meetings were much shorter with far fewer brain aching decisions for Nordag to make. So much so that there was time for recreation every night.
    As that thought flickered across his mind, Nordag increased his pace hurrying to his chambers and hoping that the guard captain had made a wise choice.  The orc guards at the door, from his own personal platoon, were the strongest tallest broadest of their breed, but Nordag still towered head and shoulders over them.  Only the grandeur of the old mayoral palace prevented his head from brushing the ceiling.  They came simultaneously to attention, old tribal rivalries held in check by the rigid military discipline of the Governor’s new order.  They were soldiers of a disciplined army not members of squabbling gangs.  Nordag, grinned contentedly, my how far they had come, and how far they would go. 
    “Has the C aptain been?” Nordag grunted.
    The orc on the left nodded straight faced, the one to the right supressed all but the faintest twitch of a grin. Nordag scowled at them.  “No interruptions, understand.”
    Both nodded, but for added emphasis Nordag warned them, “I see either your faces before dawn and I change their shape, understand.”
    Then he pushed his way into the Mayor’s private chambers, closing and barring the door behind him.  In prior times the mayors of Woldtag had kept a suite of rooms within the town hall, at the top of the building.  The smaller rooms were ill matched to Nordag’s size but the main chamber, in which past incumbents had done their entertaining, served all the ogre’s simple needs.  The magnificent dining table made a sturdy bed, piled high with cloth and furs.  The balcony with its view over the market square served as an effective latrine and in so doing also discouraged the casual callers and petitioners who might otherwise have ventured into the town hall. 
    He unclasped the heavy gold broach that held the cloak around his neck.   The cloak had been a gift from one freeholder anxious to ingratiate himself with the new power in Woldtag.  It was one of the few garments that matched the ogre’s size and the man had sent his daughter forward to present it.  Nordag remembered still her trembling prettiness and the alacrity with which the man had included her with the gift when Nordag made the demand.  Another memory brought a twisted smile to Nordag’s lips.  There was a slight movement to the pile of furs on the table and the ogre strode towards it with renewed interest.
    He savoured the moment as he stood at the foot of the outsized bed, loosening the straps of the battered steel breastplate. He tried to gauge from the quivers in the bed clothes where the captain had hidden this evening’s frightened plaything.  He guessed which side just as the metal armour fell silently to the marbled floor.  Flinging aside the bedding, he had just a moment to register the oddity of the noiseless clang of metal