按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Nodding； the soldier said； I d say they earned that when they fought the Burning Legion。 Weren t for them… He
gulped down the remainder of his wine； then slid the mug toward Erik。 Get me an ale。
Erik hesitated。 He had already started reaching for the grog bottle。 This soldier had been ing into the
Demonsbane ever since Erik opened the place； and he d never drunk anything save grog。
But that threeyearlong patronage had earned him the right not to be questioned。 Besides； as long as he was paying；
he could drink soapy water for all Erik cared。
Fact is； the captain said； this is our world； by right of birth。 Them orcs are just guests in our home； and it s high
time they started actin like it！
The conversation went on from there。 Erik served a few more drinks； tossed a few mugs into the basin to be cleaned
later； and only after he gave the merchant another ale did he realize that Margoz； who started the whole
conversation； had left。
He hadn t even left a tip。 Erik shook his head in disgust； the fisherman s name already falling out of his head。
But he d remember the face。 And probably spit in the bastard s drink next time he came in having only one drink
and then starting trouble。 Erik hated troublemakers like that in his place。 Just hated it。
More people started plaining about the orcs。 One person the bruiser next to the soldier slammed his ale mug
on the bar so hard that it spattered his drink on the demon skull。 Sighing； Erik grabbed a rag and wiped it off。
There was a time when Margoz would have been too scared to walk the darkened streets of Theramore alone。
True； crime was not a major concern in so closed a munity as Theramore everyone knew most everyone else；
and if they didn t； they knew someone else who did so criminal acts were rare enough。 Those that were
mitted were generally punished quickly and brutally by Lady Proudmoore s soldiers。
Still； Margoz had always been small and weak； and the big and strong tended to prey on the small and weak； so
Margoz generally avoided walking around alone at night。 You never knew what big and strong person was lurking
to show how big and strong he was by beating up on a lesser target。 Many times； Margoz had been that target。 He
soon learned that it was best to do what they said and make them happy in order to avoid the violence。
But Margoz no longer had that fear。 Or any other kind of fear。 Now he had a patron。 True； Margoz had to do his
bidding； also； but this time the reward was power and wealth。 In the old days； the reward was not being beaten
within an inch of his life。 Maybe it was exchanging one type of gutcrippling fear for another； but Margoz thought
this was working out better for him。
A salty breeze wafted through the air； blowing in off the port。 Margoz inhaled deeply； the scent of the water
invigorating him。 He spoke at least partly true in the Demonsbane： he was a fisherman； though never a particularly
successful one。 However； he did not fight against the Burning Legion as he claimed； but instead came here after
they d been driven back。 He d hoped to have more opportunities here than he d had at Kul Tiras。 It wasn t his fault
that the s were substandard they were all he could afford； but tell the dock authority that and see where it got
you。
Where it got him； mostly； was beaten up。
So he came to Kalimdor； following the rush of people hoping to provide services for the humans who lived there
under Lady Proudmoore。 But Margoz hadn t been the only fisherman to ply his trade； nor was he anywhere near the
best。
Before his patron arrived； Margoz was close to destitute。 He wasn t even catching enough to feed himself； much
less sell； and he was seriously considering just grabbing his boat s anchor and jumping off the side with it。 Put
himself out of his misery。
But then his patron arrived； and everything got better。
Margoz soon arrived at his modest apartment。 His patron hadn t let him move to better acmodations； despite his
pleading the patron called it whining； and unseemly regarding the lack of good ventilation； the poor furnishings；
and the rats。 But his patron assured him that such a sudden change in his status would draw attention； and for now；
he was to remain unnoticed。
Until tonight； when he was instructed to go to the Demonsbane and start sowing antiorc sentiments。 In the old
days； he never would have dared to set foot in such a place。 The types of people who liked to beat him up usually
congregated in large groups in taverns； and he preferred to avoid them for that reason。
Or； rather； used to prefer to avoid them。
He entered his room。 A pallet that was no thinner than a slice of bread； a burlap sheet that itched so much he only
used it when the winter got particularly cold； and even then it was a difficult choice； a lantern； and precious little
else。 A rat scurried across into one of the many cracks in the wall。
Sighing； he knew what needed to be done next。 Besides the inability to move to better quarters； the thing Margoz
hated most about his dealings with his patron was the odor he carried with him afterwards。 It was some kind of side
effect of the magic at his patron s mand； but whatever the reason； it annoyed Margoz。
Still； it was worth it for the power。 And the ability to walk the streets and drink in the Demonsbane without fear of
physical reprisal。
Shoving his hand past his collar to reach under his shirt； Margoz pulled out the necklace with the silver pendant
shaped like a sword afire。 Clutching the sword so tightly that he felt the edges dig into his palm； he spoke the words
whose meaning he d never learned； but which filled him with an unspeakable dread every time he said them：
Galtak Ered nash。 Ered nash ban galar。 Ered nash havik yrthog。 Galtak Ered nash。
The stink of sulfur started to permeate the small room。 This was the part Margoz hated。
Galtak Ered nash。 You have done as I manded？
Yes； sir。 Margoz was embarrassed to realize that his voice was getting squeaky。 Clearing his throat； he tried to
deepen his tone。 I did as you asked。 As soon as I mentioned difficulties with the orcs； virtually the entire tavern
joined in。
Virtually？
Margoz didn t like the threat implied in that onean was a holdout； but the others were
ganging up on him to a certain degree。 Provided a focus for their ire； really。
Perhaps。 You have done well。
That came as a huge relief。 Thank you； sir； thank you。 I am glad to have been of service。 He hesitated。 If I may；
sir； might now be a good time to once again broach the subject of improved acmodations？ You might have
noticed the rat that
You have served us。 You will be rewarded。
So you ve said； sir； but well； I was hoping a reward would e soon。 He decided to take advantage of his
lifelong fears。 I was in grave danger this evening； you know。 Walking alone near the docks can be
You will e to no harm as long as you serve。 You need never walk with fear again； Margoz。
Of of course。 I simply
You simply wish to live the life you have never been permitted to live。 That is an understandable concern。 Be
patient； Margoz。 Your reward will