[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (21 page)

Twea seemed to understand that Kovok-mah was smiling, for she grinned back at him. Dar smiled at the mismatched pair and marveled at Twea’s transformation.
She trusts him completely
. Dar had never imagined that Twea would reach that point so quickly.
Is it something he did or said, or is it instinct on her part?
Dar still had apprehensions about orcs, but as she watched Twea, her remaining doubts about Kovok-mah vanished.

Twea had also become talkative, and as she walked, she seemed intent on telling her whole life story. “I don’t have a mother,” she said. “Or a father. Just Auntie, and she’s not a real aunt. Soldiers gave me to her. I don’t remember, ’cause I was a baby.”

Dar immediately thought of Frey.

“Auntie hid her real daughters. When the man on the horse came, she…she…” Twea grew upset. “She said I belonged to the soldiers and they were taking me back. Is that true?”

“You belong to the king,” said Dar. “Just like I do.”

“Urkwashavoki nuk tash,” muttered Kovok-mah.
Washavokis are cruel.

“What did you just say?” asked Twea.

“He said men are mean,” said Dar, “and he’s right.”

“They will not be mean to Little Bird,” said Kovok-mah.

“Auntie was mean. She beat me all the time. She called me worthless.”

“She was wrong,” said Kovok-mah. “You are mother.”

“I’m
not
!”

“Orcs call all women mother,” said Dar. “Even girls.”

“That’s silly.”

Dar found herself repeating Kovok-mah’s explanation. “If a bowl is empty, it’s still a bowl.”

Twea thought about this for a moment. “So you’re a mother, too?”

“Hai,” said Dar. “That’s how the orcs say yes.”

“Dargu lo-nat muthuri ala Tahwee Ki,” said Kovok-mah.

Dar translated. “He said I’ll be your mother.”

“I don’t want a mother,” said Twea. “Mine threw me away. Just like garbage.”

“Who told you that?”

“Auntie.”

“She lied,” said Dar, recalling Loral. “When the king’s women have babies, the soldiers take them away. Your mother loved you.”

Twea gazed up at Dar. “How do you know?”

“I’ve seen a mother’s love. My friend, Loral, died so her baby girl might live.”

“Is that true?” asked Twea, sounding more hopeful than skeptical.

“Yes,” said Dar. “I swear by Karm’s holy name.”

Twea took Dar’s hand and smiled.

“Since your mother isn’t here,” said Dar, “I’ll take care of you for her.”

“Will Kovy take care of me, too?”

“Hai,” said Kovok-mah.

When Twea tired, Kovok-mah hefted her onto his shoulders. She straddled his neck, and he gripped her thin legs with his massive hands. Twea’s perch was comfortable because Kovok-mah’s cape cushioned the plates of his armored tunic. While Twea enjoyed her new vantage point, Dar took the opportunity to practice her Orcish. “Where did you know speech of washavokis?” she asked.

Kovok-mah corrected her. “Where did you
learn
speech of washavokis.”

“Learn,” said Dar. “Where did you learn it?”

“From my father.”

“Where did he learn it?”

“His mother visited old washavoki king often. She learned his speech and taught all her children.”

Dar was intrigued. “Why would she visit king?”

“She was queen. It was fitting.”

Dar gazed at Kovok-mah with surprise.
He’s a prince!
Not knowing the proper Orcish words, Dar switched to the human tongue. “I did not know you had royal blood.”

Kovok-mah look puzzled. “What kind of blood is this?”

Dar replied in Orcish. “Your father’s mother was queen. That makes you like her—leader.”

“It does not. I herd goats. My father makes hard milk.”

Kovok-mah’s answer surprised Dar.
His father’s only a cheesemaker? I guess orcs don’t believe in royal blood.
Further talk confirmed Dar’s assumption. Among the orcs, heredity didn’t determine who ruled, and Kovok-mah’s standing was not enhanced by his kinship to a queen. Dar learned that the cape he wore was less a sign of rank than recognition of his wisdom. It marked him as one to follow in the press of battle. The cape had been bestowed on him by the consensus of his comrades, who could remove it by the same process.

Dar continued practicing Orcish until Twea grew bored with riding and asked to be set down. Soon, the girl had Dar helping her gather flowers. Twea used them to decorate Kovok-mah’s armor, employing its metal plates to grip the flowers’ stems. Gradually, his rusty tunic took on the appearance of a spring meadow.

For the remainder of the day, Dar was often happy. Secure beside Kovok-mah, she opened her heart to Twea. Dar envisioned the girl’s mother—branded and desolate—and felt she was passing on that woman’s love. There was joy in being needed, and it filled an emptiness that had haunted Dar far too long. Yet, whenever she remembered the precariousness of their situation, happiness gave way to concern. They were marching to war, where lives and fates could be altered in an instant. Orcs weren’t invulnerable; a single arrow or sword stroke could remove Twea’s and her protection. If that happened, Dar was certain Murdant Kol’s vengeance would come swiftly—first on Twea, then on herself.

Dar might have succumbed to despair if she weren’t a highlander. Her hardscrabble life had taught her to cling to whatever happiness the present offered. She kept a wary eye toward the future, but she didn’t let forebodings crush her spirit. She worried, but she also smiled. At times, when Twea was playful, Dar seemed as carefree as someone on an outing.

The road descended into the Turgen’s broad floodplain. Though the river was still beyond sight, the black, fertile earth flanking the road was evidence of its nearness. The richness of the land contrasted with the state of its farms. Passing troops had left little in their wake. The homes along the way were empty and ruined, stripped bare by waves of soldiers. With no larders to commandeer, Murdant Teeg cut the grain rations that evening. For days, only porridge had been served. Henceforth, meals would be meager as well as monotonous.

After Teeg announced the news, Taren muttered to Neena, “The men will take it out on us.”

“Then make the scabhead serve,” said Neena. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Out with Dar, getting wood,” replied Taren.

Neena’s face darkened upon hearing Dar’s name. “I heard you talking with that bitch last night. I thought we agreed to shun her.”

“Maybe we were wrong about her,” said Taren.

“We weren’t. I know her kind. She dropped a murdant for an orc. She’d drop that orc for something better.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Taren.

“Think twice about whose side you take,” said Neena. “You’re with us or against us. And remember—no orc’s protecting
you
.”

Taren didn’t reply. Nevertheless, Neena was certain her threat had left its mark.

Twea and Dar served the orcs late because Twea had to serve the men first. As on the previous evening, Twea ate within Muth la’s Embrace. Dar left her with Kovok-mah while she finished her chores. When she returned to Kovok-mah’s shelter, Twea was curled up on his wide lap, sound asleep. Kovok-mah spoke softly in Orcish. “Dargu, we must speak about tomorrow. Time for killing draws close.”

“Hai,” said Dar, feeling a chill in the pit of her stomach.

“Soon, many urkzimmuthi will gather. They will look at you and Little Bird and see washavokis, not mothers. There will be danger.”

“Danger is everywhere,” whispered Dar.

“You speak wisdom.”

As Dar and Kovok-mah conferred in hushed voices, halting whenever Twea stirred, Dar realized that she would be starting over with new bands of orcs and no assurance of acceptance. She recalled how Zna-yat had almost killed her and how the sentry had nearly slit her throat.
Twea’s and my fate are in the orcs’ hands. It’s too late to change that.
All Dar could do was wait and discover what that fate would be.

Twenty-six

The shieldron reached the Turgen River early the following day. Already broad, it was a formidable barrier. Its current, gray with sediment from the nearby mountains, was swift and so cold that it chilled the surrounding air. The river awed Dar. She was fascinated that frigid water could seem to boil as it rushed downstream.

The road followed the riverbank, and by afternoon a great stone bridge came into view, its arches linking rocky islands to span the river. The stonework had weathered until it was hard to tell where the islands ended and the masonry began. It was the most impressive structure Dar had ever seen. She stopped to gape at it, and Kovok-mah stopped also. “That is Flis Muthi,” he said.

Dar translated. “Leap of Mother?”

“Hai. Great work of urkzimmuthi and cause of much sorrow.”

“You built that bridge?” said Dar, trying to hide her surprise.

“Hai. Long ago. And long ago washavokis crossed it to take our homes.”

As Kovok-mah spoke, a troop of horsemen rode across the span to the camp on the far shore. Not much later, Dar crossed the bridge herself. Up close, the structure revealed its antiquity. Centuries of rain and snow had rounded its angles and its paving stones were worn and rutted. In places, full-grown trees grew between them.

The base camp beyond the bridge was only partly filled, but it was already a busy, confusing place. Though Tolum Karg’s shieldron was the first of the regiment’s six to arrive, other orc regiments were already there. In addition to the orcs, there were units of human soldiers, both foot and cavalry, within the camp. With a single turn of her head, Dar viewed more people than she had encountered all her life. A din of voices, both human and inhuman, assaulted her ears. Mingled with them were the sounds of animals and the noise of an army preparing for war.

The shieldron waited at the edge of the camp while Tolum Karg reported to the camp commander. When the tolum returned, he led the shieldron to a patch of open ground. It lay next to a broad area encircled by upright branches that enclosed hundreds of conical shelters with ample space for many more. The orcs entered the circle while the soldiers and women remained outside and began to unload the wagons.

Dar had given up asking questions and relied on eavesdropping to find out what was going on. She learned from the soldiers’ talking that the army would encamp until all its units had assembled. Some men thought that would take a few days, while others predicted weeks. The only consensus was that the invasion wouldn’t commence until the king arrived.

Dar heard a lot of grumbling, for no one looked forward to camp life. “No helpin’ ourselves to peasant larders,” said Murdant Teeg. “Ye’ll be livin’ off His Majesty’s generosity.”

“With ol’ Squeeze Purse feedin’ us,” said a soldier, “it’ll be naught but porridge.”

“You just wait,” said another. “When camp’s full o’ bellies, a bowl o’ mush will seem a feast.”

“If yer lucky enough to get some,” said Teeg. “Staying put makes for lean times. Wood’s already scarce. All we got enough of is water.” He glared at Dar. “Move yer arse, bitch. There’s work aplenty.”

Dar hurried off to help the women prepare for an indefinite stay. The soldiers, as usual, did as little as possible. Once they erected their tents, they left the women to set up camp. The women finished unloading the wagons, established the cooking area, and erected their own shelter before turning to other tasks. Neena and Kari went out to gather wood. Taren and Twea fetched water, then started dinner. Dar had been ordered to dig the latrines, which she finished just in time to serve the orcs.

Dar and Twea washed, donned serving robes, hefted the pole bearing the porridge kettle, and entered the circle that marked Muth la’s Embrace. Dar was forced to wander about looking for Kovok-mah and his companions. Finding them among hundreds of strange orcs and their shelters took a while. By then, Twea was struggling to hold up her end of the pole.

Kovok-mah seemed tense when Dar served him, and he whispered that they must speak. After Dar and Twea doled out the porridge, they went over to Kovok-mah’s shelter and waited for him. He arrived as the sun began to set.

Kovok-mah spoke in Orcish so Twea couldn’t understand him. “You must not stay here tonight,” he said. “It is not safe. Last night, guards kill washavoki.”

“Just because some foolish soldier…”

“Not soldier,” said Kovok-mah. “Woe man.”

“Urkzimmuthi kill mother?” said Dar. “Why?”

“I am not sure,” said Kovok-mah. “All I know is she entered circle and guards killed her. They may do same to you and Little Bird. Both of you should leave now.”

“Thwa,” said Dar. “If we are not safe within Muth la’s Embrace, we are not safe anywhere. We will wait for guards to come.”

Kovok-mah didn’t argue, though his expression betrayed his unhappiness. Dar was a mother, and he deferred to her judgment. Kovok-mah followed Dar’s example and sat near his shelter where he could be seen easily. Twea, unaware of what was happening, snuggled close to him.

The women who served the other orcs departed. The sun sank below the horizon. It grew dark and a chill breeze came from the river. Without being too obvious, Dar watched the small bands of armed orcs that patrolled the circle’s boundary. Eventually, one band headed in her direction. She remained perfectly still.