William Pitt lifted a wall in place to help one of the townspeople he had fallen in with on his way home. He had been in the village for almost two weeks since he had found it. He should be moving on instead of helping to rebuild a house.

He wondered how he had let himself be roped into staying when he should be moving on. He still had the greater part of three hundred miles to walk from where he was. He should be letting these people do their own work while he walked on.

He supposed he liked pie a bit too much. He needed to cut himself off and head for home. He had things to do there.

And he was using that for justification when he knew better.

He decided that the orcs had taken his warning seriously and were staying away if they hadn't come back in force. He should move on and get on with his own life.

The Highlands were peaceful and the need for his special skills was so rare as to be nonexistent.

A commotion drew his attention to the edge of town. People fled from whatever was going on. He shook his head. He supposed his vacation was over.

Pitt walked down the road to see what was going on. He had his hands in his pockets as he thought about what he would like to have for dinner. Several of the local women were excellent cooks, and were wooing him with pies and other things.

An elderly orc wrapped in a seraphe and two younger orcs walked down the road to the town. The elder used a staff to keep on his feet. One eye had clouded over with a white film. The other two looked ready to fight, but their four hands hung at their sides as they walked.

Pitt looked around as he approached. He didn't see a bigger war party lurking around. Three orcs didn't seem that much of a threat to him. He figured the elder was some kind of killing machine putting on an act of ancient crippleness to lure him into a sense of pity.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt pity for someone he was about to kill.

“How's it going?,” Pitt asked. He noted the orcs didn't reach for the sword handles over their shoulders. Maybe he wouldn't have to kill them.

“We are looking for the Cutter,” said the elder orc. “Word has reached our tribe from the Red Shells that he is here.”

“How are they doing?,” asked Pitt. He had splattered the leader of a raiding party from that tribe. He supposed that had made an impression on the survivors.

“I suppose their tribe thought they were cowards for returning without slaves, or wealth, because of one man,” said the elder. “I don't know what their elders thought of a man calling himself the Cutter declaring this town off limits to them.”

“That's a shame,” said Pitt.

“It is not my problem,” said the elder. “The Red Shells should have known better to raid this far out of the Orcish lands. The fact that one of them might have been killed by a shopkeep is not my problem. I have come because I have need of the Cutter if he is here.”

“An orc of your stature can't possibly have need of a boogeyman like the Cutter,” said Pitt. “Your tribe should be able to handle anything that would dare encroach on your tribal lands.”

“This is about a monster that kills orcs as easily as my other eye clouds over,” said the elder. “So we need a monster slayer.”

“What kind of monster?,” said Pitt. “The Cutter might be afraid of anything really scary looking.”

“It leaves the tracks of a big cat,” said the elder. “Would you get the Cutter for us so we can talk to him?”

“I can handle any cat, grandpa,” said Pitt. “I will be glad to do it.”

“You?,” said the orc.

“Don't look so surprised,” said Pitt. “I know a thing or two. All I need is where the last attack happened. I'll do the rest.”

“If you fail?,” asked the elder orc.

“Then you can send someone back here to get the Cutter to help you,” said Pitt. “I'm surprised you would think he would help you. I heard he killed plenty of orcs in his day.”

“He has killed even more monsters,” said the elder. “He has killed more monsters than anyone knows. That is what we need now. The rest is unimportant beside that fact.”

“All right, grandpa,” said Pitt. “Let's go and see what this monster looks like. If he is too much for me to handle, we'll come back and get the Cutter for you.”

“All right,” said the orc. “What do you need?”

“I need to tell these people not to worry and that this is all a deal we're striking so they won't have to look for problems with your tribe,” said Pitt. “Give me a second.”

“That is acceptable,” said the elder. He waved a hand for Pitt to go ahead.

Pitt looked around for someone sensible he could trust his message with before he left with the orcs. He didn't want the town scared. None of them seemed ready to deal with orcs after the Red Shell invasion.

It wouldn't be the first time a town ran scared from old enemies.

He found Paul Yeats gathering the town in his bakery. He held a rolling pin in his hand. A touch of flour marked his face as he stared out at the street.

“What's going on, Will?,” asked Paul. He waved the pin around as he talked.

“The orcs have asked me to kill a monster for them,” said Pitt. “There's nothing to be scared of. They're harmless.”

“Do you believe them?,” asked Yeats. He let the pin fall to his side.

“He's a cleric for his tribe,” said Pitt. “He can just summon some kind of thing if he has permission. I'm going to go sort this out. Then I am coming back through on my way home.”

“Do you think you can handle it?,” asked Yeats.

“He says it's some kind of big cat,” said Pitt. “How hard could it be?”

“Have you ever chased after a cat of any kind?,” asked Yeats. He put the pin down on a nearby counter.

“Not recently,” said Pitt. He had killed a giant feline monster a few years ago, but he hadn't chased it down. It had sprinted right at him, and then pounced at his turned back. He had turned and knocked it flat.

“I think this is a lot of trouble, and the orcs should handle it themselves,” said Yeats.

“I agree,” said Pitt. “I don't think they can. Hold the fort while I'm gone. After the trouble in the city, fighters of every kind should be arriving in the area. You won't even need me as a deterrent after that happens.”

“All right,” said Yeats. “I would be happier if we actually had a garrison nearby to help us if we needed it.”

“One of Avri Noll's clerics would be enough in my opinion,” said Pitt. “I'll see you when I get back.”

Pitt joined the orcs where they waited. He gestured for them to lead on. He wondered how far the elder had limped to reach the village.”

He kept his questions to himself. It was better that he didn't know anything other than the monster was a cat of some kind. Even orc rangers could be fooled. What they had asked him to chase didn't have to be a cat at all.

In his long career, he had found some monsters who could pretend to be other monsters. You went in thinking you had a giant snake, and it turned out it was a headless fiend setting a trap for any snake hunters in the area.

It was better to keep an open mind until he ran down the thing himself. Then he could do what he did best. While he didn't really care about the orcs one way or the other, this was why he had signed on to be a member of the Thousand.

War had changed him in a way he had never thought possible before he started killing anything trying to wipe humanity out. He wondered where he had left that idealism in the centuries he had done his work.

He supposed he had left it in one of the graves of his friends somewhere along the way.