魔兽争霸官方小说:仇恨之轮-Cycle of Hatred(英文版)- 第15部分

Strov　arrived　early；　taking　a　seat　in　the　corner；　wanting　to　blend　into　the　background　of　the　tavern　and　people
watch。　After　a　few　hours；　he　decided　that　he　had　no　desire　to　ever　patronize　this　establishment　again。　The　table　was
filthy；　and　the　stool　he　sat　on　was　uneven　and　rocked　on　the　unswept　floor。　He　got　his　first　drink　a　watery　ale　at
the　bar；　and　no　attempt　had　been　made　to　refill　it。　It　amazed　Strov　that　the　owner　could　stay　in　business。　

On　top　of　that；　Strov　found　the　demon　skull　behind　the　bar　to　be　incredibly　disturbing。　It　was　as　if　the　thing　were　
staring　right　at　him　the　entire　time。　Although；　thinking　on　it；　he　could　see　how　the　presence　of　that　skull　looming　
　
over　everyone　in　the　tavern　would　drive　people　to　drink　more；　so　he　supposed　that；　at　least；　was　a　sound　business
decision。　

Manuel　came　in　with　a　bunch　of　men　who；　like　him；　were　burly　and　loud　and　wearing　only　sleeveless　shirts　and
loose　cotton　pants。　Strov　s　brother　earned　his　daily　bread　loading　and　unloading　ships　docked　in　Theramore；　and
then　spent　most　of　it　either　at　dice　or　in　this　tavern。　It　was　work　that　challenged　only　the　body；　not　the　mind；　which
was　why　it　had　held　no　interest　for　Strov；　but　held　plenty　for　the　much　less　imaginative　Manuel。　Strov　s　older
brother　wasn　t　one　to　think　overmuch　on　things。　Even　the　soldier　s　training　Strov　had　received　when　he　enlisted
would　have　been　too　taxing　for　him。　He　preferred　the　simplicity　of　being　told　to　take　a　box　from　one　place　and　put
it　in　another　place。　Anything　more　than　that　like　the　intricacies　of　fighting　with　a　sword　gave　him　a　headache。　

As　the　dockworkers　made　their　way　inside　the　bar；　Manuel　said；　Find　a　table；　fellas；　I　ll　be　orderin　　the　drinks。　　

First　round　on　you？　　one　of　his　coworkers　asked　with　a　grin。　

You　wish　we　ll　divvy　up　later。　　Manuel　laughed　and　walked　up　to　the　bar。　Strov　noted　that　his　brother　didn　t
move　in　a　straight　line　to　the　bar；　but　instead　took　an　odd　angle　so　he　had　to　squeeze　in　between　two　other　people　in
order　to　stand　at　the　bar。　Evenin　；　Erik；　　he　said　to　the　barkeep。　

The　barkeep　just　nodded。　

Two　ales；　one　corn　whiskey；　one　wine；　and　a　boar　s　grog。　　

Strov　smiled。　Manuel　always　had　a　weakness　for　boar　s　grog；　which　was　of　course　the　most　expensive　item　in　the
tavern。　This　was　one　of　several　reasons　why　he　still　lived　with　their　parents　while　Strov　had　his　own　place。　

The　usual；　　Erik　said。　in　　up。　　

As　Erik　went　to　put　the　order　together；　Manuel　turned　to　look　at　the　man　seated　next　to　him。　He　d　arrived　after
Strov　did；　but　was　already　on　his　third　corn　whiskey。　Hey；　　Manuel　said；　you　re　Margoz；　right？　　

The　man　just　looked　up　and　stared　blankly　at　Manuel。　

You　re　with　them　Burning　Blade　folk；　right？　Had　a　fella　in　here　awhile　back；　was　lookin　　for　recruits。　You　re　with
em；　yeah？　　

Dunno　what　you　re　talking　about。　　Margoz　s　words　were　sufficiently　slurred　that　his　consonants　barely　qualified
as　such。　　　Scuse　me。　　

Margoz　then　got　off　his　stool；　stumbled　to　the　floor；　got　up　while　refusing　assistance　from　Manuel；　and　then　walked
very　slowly　and　unsteadily　toward　the　door。　

A　moment　later；　after　Manuel　gave　him　a　look　and　a　nod；　Strov　abandoned　his　longempty　mug　and　also　exited
onto　the　streets　of　Theramore。　

The　cobblestone　streets　that　formed　a　lattice　amid　the　buildings　of　Theramore　were　designed　to　provide　reinforced
ground　for　people；　mounts；　and　wheeled　conveyances　to　travel　without　risking　getting　mired　in　the　swampy　ground
the　city　had　been　built　on。　Most　people　walked　on　them　rather　than　the　muck　and　grass　on　either　side；　which　meant
the　thoroughfares　were　so　crowded　that　Strov　could　follow　Margoz　without　fear　of　being　noticed。　

After　Margoz　bumped　into　four　different　people；　two　of　whom　actively　tried　to　avoid　him；　Strov　realized　that　they　
could　have　been　alone　on　the　street　for　all　it　mattered。　Margoz　was　so　drunk　he　wouldn　t　have　noticed　a　dragon
following　him　down　the　street。　
　
Still；　Strov　refused　to　let　his　training　go　to　waste；　so　he　kept　a　good　distance　behind　and　rarely　looked　right　at　the
target；　though　he　kept　him　in　his　peripheral　vision。　

They　soon　arrived　at　a　small　adobe　structure　near　the　docks。　This　particular　house　was　constructed　of　the　cheaper
material　rather　than　wood　or　stone；　indicating　that　very　poor　people　indeed　lived　here。　If　this　Margoz　was　a
fisherman；　as　Manuel　thought；　he　was　obviously　a　bad　one；　as　it　took　a　true　lack　of　skill　to　not　succeed　as　a
fisherman　on　an　island　on　the　coast　of　the　Great　Sea。　The　nearest　cesspool　was　poorly　concealed；　and　Strov　almost
gagged　from　the　odor　of　waste　in　the　air。　

Margoz　entered　the　building；　which　was　probably　originally　constructed　as　a　fourroom　house；　but　now　had　each
room　rented　out　to　a　different　tenant。　Strov　took　up　position　behind　a　tree　across　the　way　from　it。　

Three　of　the　rooms　already　had　lanterns　burning。　The　fourth　lit　up　about　half　a　minute　after　Margoz　entered。　Strov
casually　walked　across　the　way　and　then　stood　near　Margoz　s　window；　making　as　if　to　urinate　on　the　wall。　He　made　
sure　to　stumble　as　he　approached；　so　that　any　passersby　would　assume　he　was　drunk。　It　wasn　t　all　that　unusual　late
at　night　to　see　drunks　relieving　themselves　on　whatever　surface　presented　itself。　

From　Margoz　s　room；　Strov　heard　the　words：　Galtak　Ered　nash。　Ered　nash　ban　galar。　Ered　nash　havik　yrthog。
Galtak　Ered　nash。　　

Strov　started。　He　didn　t　recognize　the　rest　of　it；　but　the　first　and　last　part　were　things　the　orcs　who　attacked　them　at
Northwatch　had　said。　

Pleased　with　himself　for　having　rightly　made　this　connection；　Strov　continued　listening。　

Then　his　entire　face　scrunched　up　in　revulsion　at　the　sudden　stink　of　sulfur。　On　the　face　of　it；　sulfur　should　have　
been　more　pleasant；　or　at　least　less　revolting；　than　the　cesspool　s　overwhelming　odor。　But　there　was　something　
wrong　something　evil　about　this　smell。　Margoz　s　words　had　sounded　like　an　incantation；　and　now　this。　Not　only　
was　magic　afoot；　but　Strov　was　willing　to　bet　his　sword　that　it　was　demonic　magic。　

M　sorry；　sir；　I　didn　　mean　to 　Margoz　paused。　　Yeah；　I　realize　y　don　　wanna　be　bothered　less　it　s　important；
but　it　s　been　months；　sir；　and　m　still　in　is　same　hole。　I　jus　　wanna　know 　Another　pause。　Well；　it　s　importan　　t　　
me！　And　wha　s　more；　people　keep　talkin　　t　me；　like　I　can　help　em　or　somethin　。　　

Strov　couldn　t　hear　the　other　half　of　the　conversation；　which　meant　that　either　Margoz　was　crazy　and　was　talking　to
himself　which　Strov　had　to　admit　was　likely；　especially　given　his　inebriated　state　or　the　other　half　of　the
conversation　was　meant　for　Margoz　s　ears　only。　
　

I　dunno　whatcher　talkin　　　bout。　Nobody　didn
got　eyes　n　the　back　a　my　head！　　
　

　Another　pause。　Well；　how　s　I　s　posed　t　know　that？　Huh？　I　ain　t
　

What　Strov　knew　about　demons　was　mostly　how　to　kill　them；　but　this　odd　onesided　conversation　definitely　had　the
stink　of　demon　to　Strov　and　not　just　because　of　the　sulfur。　

He　did　up　his　pants。　At　this　point；　he　had　enough　to　report　to　Colonel　Lorena。　Besides；　he　didn　t　much　like　the　idea　
of　being　this　close　to　a　demon。　

Turning　around；　he　found　himself　facing　absolute　darkness。　

What　the　？　　He　whirled　around；　but　there　was　only　darkness　behind　him　as　well。　Theramore　had　pletely　
disappeared。　

I　do　not　like　spies。　　
　
　
Strov　didn　t　so　much　hear　the　voice　as　feel　it　in　his　very　bones。　It　was　as　if　someone　had　sewn　his　eyes　shut；　only　
his　eyes　were　open；　but　he　couldn　t　see　anything。　

No；　it　wasn　t　just　sight　that　had　gone　quiet。　The　darkness　extended　to　his　other　senses。　He　could　no　longer　hear　the　
bustle　of　Theramore；　nor　taste　the　salty　air；　nor　feel　the　breeze　wafting　in　off　the　Great　Sea。　

And　the　only　thing　he　smelled　now　was　sulfur。　

Why　do　you　spy　on　my　minion？　　

Strov　said　nothing。　He　wasn　t　sure　he　was　capable　of　speech；　and　even　if　he　was；　he　would　never　give　up
information　to　a　creature　such　as　this。　

I　do　not　have　time　to　play　these　games。　It　seems　you　must　simply　die。　　

The　darkness　caved　in　on　Strov。　His　body　grew　cold；　the　blood　freezing　in　his　veins；　his　mind　screaming　in　sudden；
terrifying　agony。　

The　last　thought　Strov　had　was　hope　that　Manuel　wouldn　t　blow　Strov　s　entire　pension　on　boar　s　grog…。　

Eleven　

M　uzzlecrank　used　to　like　being　a　goblin　bruiser。　Truly；　it　had　been　easy　work　when　he　first　signed　up。　Bruisers
enforced　the　peace　in　Ratchet；　and　the　pay　was　good。　Muzzlecrank　s　shifts　were　spent　wandering　up　and　down　his
section　of　the　pier　at　Ratchet；　beating　up　the　occasional　drunk　or　vagabond；　taking　bribes　from　shipmasters　moving　
contraband；　arresting　the　ones　who　were　too　stupid　or　too　cheap　to　pay　bribes；　and　generally　getting　to　meet　all
manner　of　people。　

Muzzlecrank　had　always　thought　of　himself　as　a　people　person。　Ratchet　was　a　neutral　port　goblins　as　a　rule　did
not　take　sides　in　the　numerous　conflicts　that　ravaged　the　land　and　as　a　result；　pretty　much　every　type　of　creature　
you　were　like　to　find　in　the　world　came　through　at　some　point　or　other。　Elves；　dwarves；　humans；　orcs；　trolls；　ogres；
even　the　occasional　gnome　it　was　the　crossroads　of　Kalimdor。　Muzzlecrank　always　liked　seeing　the　different
interactions；　whether　it　was　dwarves　shipping　construction　materials　to　elves；　elves　shipping　jewelry　to　humans；
orcs　shipping　crops　to　elves；　humans　shipping　fish　to　ogres；　or　trolls　shipping　weapons　to　pretty　much　anyone。　

Lately；　though；　things　had　gotten　somewhat　less　pleasant。　Especially　between　the　humans　and　the　orcs　which　was
problematic　insofar　as　the　most　mon　patrons　of　Ratchet　were　those　two　races。　Ratchet　was　right　at　Durotar　s
southernmost　border；　and　was　the　nearest　port　to　Theramore　as　well。　

Just　last　week；　he　had　had　to　break　up　a　fight　between　an　orc　sailor　and　a　human　merchant。　The　former　had
apparently　stepped　on　the　latter　s　toe　and　the　human　took　umbrage。　Muzzlecrank　had　been　forced　to　break　them　up
before　the　orc　beat　the　human　into　a　pulp；　which　hadn　t　been　any　fun　at　all。　Muzzlecrank　preferred　to　get　into　fights
with　vagabonds　and　drunks　because　they　were　kind　enough　not　to　fight　back。　Fightingmad　orcs　were　another　kettle
of　grease　entirely；　and　Muzzlecrank　preferred　to