A heap of broken images
The one in the middle, who had been doing most of the talking was watching her closely. The other two were looking anywhere but at her - scanning the farm, the house, and the surrounding hills. He tried again, changing tack, narrowing his eyes as if concentrating hard on trying to remember something.
"We have offered you coins, because we want to buy the food from you. It is not Prosperous for you to refuse to reward our hard work in this way."
She stared at him, in much the same way she might stare at a goat that had stood on its hind legs and started to sing the Fire Maringo.
"What?" She hated how stupid she sounded.
"It is not Prosperous. We have gained these coins by ... by hard work." One of the orcs flanking him grinned, the nasty scar across her face twisting the expression into a snarl. "You must recognise our hard work by rewarding us with the goods we desire."
The orc looked triumphant, allowed a smirk of self-satisfaction to spread across his face.
"I told you, that is not the price. I told you the price, which is what the beasts are worth. I am not going to sell them to you for less than that price - and by rights I don't really want to be selling them to you at all. Lasambrian."
The orc scowled. All pretense of pleasantry disappeared. His voice was flat.
"It is my ambition ..." he tasted the word and found it to his liking. "It is my ambition to eat goat meat for my supper, and there is no price too high to pay to get what I want."
He took a step forward, and the two burly orc warriors stepped up with him. She held her ground, even though the warriors towered over her. They were wrapped in heavy leather straps and buckles, with sheep- and goat-skins thrown over their shoulders to give them even greater bulk. She did not doubt that they could kill her before she could do more than cry out once. But she still held her ground.
"Well, Lasambrian, that threat means that the price has tripled. Because you have been rude, and because it is clear to me that you do not have the first idea what the words you are using mean. If you won't pay, then you can get out of my farmyard, and take your attack dogs with you."
The scarred orc warrior rested her hand on the pommel of her scimitar, and leered at the short Freeborn woman.
Before things could escalate further, Jorge and Reisa came around the side of the farm house. Her husband had his vicious bhuj slung casually over his shoulders, and his sister Reisa already had an arrow nocked in her short bow.
"Is everything well, Amira?" asked Jorge, ignoring the orcs.
"Everything is well, husband." she replied. "These gentlemen were just leaving."
The two warriors eyed the newcomers. The scarred one locked eyes with Jorge and tried to stare him down. He held the orc woman's gaze easily, and it was she who looked away first. The third orc - the ringleader - put one hand on her shoulder and shook his head once, sharply.
"It seems we have failed to agree on a price, Freeborn. We will go away and consider the best course of action, and then we will come back and see if we cannot leave with your goats another time."
There was a naked threat in his voice. He made little effort to conceal it.
"After all, you should never accept defeat. You should adapt your strategy and try again."
He inclined his head to her curtly, spun on his heel, and began to tromp back toward Anduz, his guards falling into step behind him.
Reisa raised her bow slowly, and Jorge put his hand on her arm.
"Not in the back, Reisa." He walked over to stand beside Amira.
"Do you think they will come back?" He asked.
"I don't know." she replied, not taking her eye off the shorter orc who had clearly been doing his homework. She had pegged him as a nasty piece of work, regardless of the fact he was a Lasambrian. "But I think that we should prepare for malice ..."
Her husband's sister, joining them at the gate, caught this last and grinned grimly. She rested one hand on Amira's shoulder and completed her sentence.
" ... yet thwart malice before it strikes against us."
The three of them stood in silence then, watching the orcs stomp back the way they had come.