Socially Orcward (Adventures in Aguillon #3) - Lisa Henry Page 0,1

his bum along the bench seat to make more room.

“Hello,” he said to the woman who sat beside him. He held out his meaty green hand. “I’m Dave.”

The woman looked a little startled. Most people did when they met an orc for the first time. But she nodded politely, and put her small hand in his. “Good evening,” she said. She had long dark hair looped around her head in hanging plaits, and eyes the colour of an overcast sky. “I’m Lady Cornelia Rutledge. This is Lord Hawkesbury, my fellow ambassador, and Ser Rufas, our scribe.”

Lord Hawkesbury was a tall, thin man. He looked rather like a praying mantis, although he had a very friendly smile. His hair was grey, and the lines around his sparkling eyes made him look very clever. Ser Rufas was younger, although not much younger. He had thinning gold hair, a sparse yellow beard, and plump cheeks that shone like polished red apples.

“Hello,” Dave said to them. “I’m Dave.” He looked more closely at Lord Hawkesbury. “Are you the bastard?”

Loth must have swallowed his peanuts wrong, because he was overcome with a sudden fit of coughing. Or laughing—Dave wasn’t ever sure with Loth.

Ser Rufas looked startled, but Lord Hawkesbury laughed. “Well, I am a politician, so I suppose the description fits, though my parents were certainly married before I was born, and for a good fifty years after.”

“An ambassador and a diplomat,” Quinn said smoothly. “In all senses of the word.”

“But not a bastard?” Dave clarified.

Quinn suddenly appeared very interested in something in the middle distance, but when Dave turned to look there was nothing there.

Dave turned back to the visitors. “I’m in the play,” he said, “’cept it’s not really me. It’s people being me who aren’t me.”

“Thespians?” Lady Rutledge asked brightly.

Dave’s brow furrowed as he thought about it. “Maybe,” he said at last. “I know the lady who plays Benji has a girlfriend.”

Loth really needed to eat his peanuts slower. This was the second time he’d choked in as many minutes. Dave helpfully leaned over and whacked him across the back, sending him flying off the bench, and then it was Quinn’s turn to choke. Dave turned to him with a meaty hand raised but Quinn slid off the end of the bench with his hands held high. “No, I’m fine Dave, I promise!”

Dave lowered his hand. “You sure? Peanuts can be tricky,” he said. Quinn nodded rapidly, standing just out of reach. Dave patted the bench next to him. “Better sit down, they’ll be starting soon,” he said. He didn't want to miss any of the play. It always ended the same, but Dave’s grasp on theatrics was loose at best and he wasn’t convinced that one day the Quinn on stage wouldn’t lose, and Dave wanted to be there to save him just in case. Dave would do anything for Quinn—the king had given him his own dragon tower, after all.

He beamed as a few servants moved through the hall, using what looked like little brass bells on long handles to put out every second candle in the ornate candelabras that decorated the hall. The light in the hall grew dim, and Dave fixed his gaze on the curtains hanging in front of the makeshift stage.

He loved this part!

Well, he loved all the parts, but this part reminded him of when he was a tiny orcling and his mum would say, “Once upon a time...” and Dave knew that an exciting story was about to begin.

Loth took his seat again, dusting off his knees.

A tinny little fanfare sounded, and the curtains parted.

Dave cheered and clapped as the chorus members bounded out onto stage. Scott was with them. He was wearing some amazing stripey trousers, and a shirt that looked like he had borrowed it off a pirate. It had more frills than the neckfolds of a Rocky Desert Sparkbreather dragon.

Dave waited, wide-eyed and breathless, for the magic to happen.

“Well,” said Lord Hawkesbury when the curtains fell closed again, gathered over the lower legs of the actor who’d managed to trip and knock himself out in the final scene, “that was certainly an enthusiastic performance, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Loth said dryly. “You can’t accuse Scott and his troupe of lacking enthusiasm.”

Scott had once tried to be a real life hero, and Loth had never forgiven him for being so terrible at it. Now he was one of the Callier Travelling Players, and Dave personally thought he was a lot less annoying now he