[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (12 page)

“Murdant Kol won’t mind,” said Neena. “They won’t even show when she’s on her back.”

Dar shot Neena an annoyed look. Neena smiled back.

The rain had ended and the soldiers broke camp early. As Dar headed to the muddy road, she saw the peasants returning to discover what remained of their food stores. They faced a hard summer and a harder winter. Yet, because they hadn’t resisted, their other possessions remained untouched. Thus, Neena and Kari had only sausages to show for their favors.

Dar walked with Loral. Though their friendship was renewed, Dar often found conversation difficult. Too many topics stirred up heartache. Dar refrained from asking about Loral’s home and family, for they were lost forever. The upcoming birth seemed an ominous—not a blessed—event. The high points in both their current lives were food and rest, and they had little of either. Yet the bond between them could be expressed silently, and that’s what Dar mostly did.

By noon, the march had taken its toll on Loral. When her friend became oblivious of everything except the necessity to keep walking, Dar lagged behind to speak with Kovok-mah. She regretted her last words to him and wanted to thank him for healing her lashes. This time, he marched toward the front of the column, and Dar was surrounded by orcs when she said, “Shashav, Kovok-mah.”
Thanks, Kovok-mah
.

“Speak to me like washavoki, not in speech of mothers.”

“Dargu nak muth.”
Weasel is mother
.

“Do not say that!”

“Kam?”
Why?

“You are different thing. You are washavoki.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because it is so. I was foolish to talk to you, foolish to give you magic. I am finished speaking. Go away.”

Dar stared at Kovok-mah in disbelief, while he resolutely ignored her. When she saw he wouldn’t speak to her, she rejoined the women. Only then did Kovok-mah sigh softly to himself.

The march continued into late afternoon, when the shieldron halted near a hapless peasant’s hut. The family was either very poor or had been warned of the army’s approach, for their larder was nearly empty. Only the officers ate well that evening; everyone else had porridge. It was twilight when Dar and Neena approached the orcs’ encampment bearing dinner. As they entered the circle of branches, Dar whispered, “The orcs are acting strangely. Be prepared to run.”

The two women halted before the seated orcs. “Saf nak ur Muthz la,” said Dar.
Food is Muth la’s gift.

“Shashav Muth la,” said the orcs in unison.
Thanks Muth la.

Dar whispered to Neena, “Don’t serve them yet, I have something else to say.” Then Dar addressed the orcs in their own tongue. “Urkzimmuthi say me no mother. Then no mother gives you this food. No Muth la. No mother. No food.” Dar whispered to Neena. “We must go now.”

“Why?”

“They’re angry. Now come along.”

When the two women turned to leave, Kovok-mah shouted, “Stop!”

Dar shouted back, “Thwa muth. Thwa saf.”
No mother. No food.

Kovok-mah rose, puffed up his chest, and roared. “Run!” shouted Dar to Neena, who required no further encouragement. She dashed off. Dar stood her ground. As Kovok-mah strode up to her, she thought he might kill her.

“Serve us!”

“Steal this food!” answered Dar. “I will not give it to you.”

Kovok-mah raised his sword, and Dar closed her eyes, expecting to gaze next upon the Dark Path.

“Why?” asked Kovok-mah. “Why are you doing this?”

Dar opened her eyes. Kovok-mah had lowered his sword. “Because you cannot have it both ways. You want me to serve, yet say I’m no mother. If that’s true, then the hairy-faced washavokis can serve you. I’m tired of it.”

Kovok-mah asked quietly, “What do you want?”

“All must say I am mother. Then I will serve.”

For just an instant, Dar caught a hint of a smile on Kovok-mah’s face. He turned and spoke to the orcs in their language. Dar could follow little of what he said, but she assumed by the length of his speech that he wasn’t commanding his comrades, but rather trying to persuade them. When he finished speaking, the orcs said in unison, “Ther nat muth.”

Kovok-mah turned to Dar. “They have said you are mother. Now, will you serve?”

“Hai.”

As Dar dipped the ladle into the kettle, she felt the eyes of the orcs upon her. She wasn’t naive; she knew her victory was a small one.
But it’s still a victory
.

When Dar returned lugging the empty kettle, she was met by Taren. “What happened with the orcs? Neena was scared out of her wits.”

“What did she say?” asked Dar.

“That you said somethin’ that riled them.” Taren shook her head. “Dar, your tongue stirs up trouble.”

“Not this time.”

“How can you say that? Neena said they almost killed you.”

“They wouldn’t do that. Orcs respect women.”

“I’ve seen them slay plenty,” said Taren. “Maybe they’re fond of their mothers, but they’re not fond of us. If you hang around them long enough, you’re goin’ to get killed.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do,” said Taren. “You’re scared of men, so you run to the orcs. You’d be safer with your own kind. Murdant Kol’s not so bad.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that!”

“Maybe you don’t fancy men, but don’t jump from the pot into the fire. If you’re careful, you won’t end up like Loral.”

“Care is useless when others run our lives.”

“So men look to their own wants first,” said Taren. “Why would orcs be any different?”

“I’m sure they’re not,” said Dar. “But they want different things.”

“And what might they be?” asked Taren.

“Not our bodies,” said Dar. She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it’s our blessing.”

Taren snorted. “You’re daft!”

Fourteen

It was mid morning when the thunderstorm hit, instantly drenching everyone. The road filled with water, but the march continued. Dar scanned the sky. It was uniformly dark, and she guessed it would rain for a long while. The heath they were traveling through offered no shelter. There were only a few stunted trees and no habitations at all. It was easy to see why people shunned the place. Springtime had barely touched it, and the bleak landscape remained a somber brown.

Dar heard heavy footsteps and turned to see Kovok-mah splashing up the road. He slowed when he reached her. “Tava, Dargu.”

“Tava, Kovok-mah.”

“This weather makes us think of washuthahi,” said Kovok-mah, who then turned and rejoined the orcs.

Taren watched him go with a surprised expression. “Well, that’s a first.”

“What’s washuthahi?” asked Dar.

“Those black seeds,” said Taren. “I think that orc was hintin’ they’d fancy some.”

Dar considered Taren’s idea.
If orcs believe mothers own the food, they may think it’s improper to ask for it directly
. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I’ll give them some.”

Dar jogged up to a wagon and found the box of seeds. She placed some in a bag and waited for the orc column to march up to her. When it did, she gave each orc some washuthahi. Kovok-mah was marching at the column’s rear and when Dar approached him, he slowed his pace so they walked apart from the others.

Dar held out the seeds. “Muth la urat tha saf la.”

Kovok-mah’s large, clawed fingers delicately plucked the small black spheres from Dar’s palm. “Shashav Muth la,” he said. Then he added in a softer voice, “Shashav, Dargu.”

Dar didn’t know what to say next. She looked at the huge orc walking beside her, his frame made even more massive by rusty iron plates, and she thought of how alien he was. An iron helmet hid most of his face, and the portion she saw was unreadable. Yet she knew that she must make some connection. Dar racked her brain for something to say. Eventually, she said, “Mer nav falfli.”
I am wet
.

Kovok-mah looked at her. “Hai, zar falfi.”
Yes, very wet
. After a silent moment, he spoke to Dar in her own tongue. “I think we should speak of things other than weather.”

“Hai,” said Dar. “You were angry with me last night. Are you still angry?”

“I do not know washavoki word for how I feel. You are very strange.”

“You are strange to me, also,” said Dar. “Perhaps when I learn your speech, you will be less so.”

“I think not,” said Kovok-mah. He paused. “You spoke wisdom last night. There is difference between woe mans and hairy-faced washavokis.”

“Do the others believe that?”

“They said you are mother.”

“Saying something and believing it are different things.”

“How could that be so?” asked Kovok-mah. “Such speech would have no meaning.”

“People lie all the time.”

“What is ‘lie’?”

“It’s saying something you know is not so.”

“On purpose?” asked Kovok-mah.

“Of course on purpose.”

“Washavokis do this thing?”

The question seemed so naive that Dar thought Kovok-mah was teasing. Yet he wasn’t smiling, and it dawned on her that he was serious. She was so surprised, it took a moment for her to reply. “Why, yes…we lie all the time.”

“Do you do this?”

“I’ve never lied to you,” said Dar, hoping that answer would satisfy him.

Kovok-mah lapsed into silence, as if he needed to ponder what Dar had said. He put one of the washuthahi seeds in his mouth and chewed it. Eager to change the subject, Dar asked him, “What are those seeds for?”

“Washuthahi is very good. It makes warmth.”

Dar reached into the bag and pulled out one of the black, wrinkled spheres. After turning it in her damp fingers and sniffing it, she popped the seed into her mouth and bit down gently. Its shell cracked, releasing a pleasantly spicy flavor that gave the impression of sweetness. “This isn’t bad,” she said. “Do you eat it?”

“Keep in mouth and chew.”

As Dar chewed the seed, its flavor grew more pronounced and was accompanied by a sensation of warmth. The colors around her became more vivid, and the damp air smelled rich and fragrant. The rain no longer bothered her. She grinned broadly at the orc. He curled back his lips in return. “You not washavoki now.”

“Hai. Dargu nak thwa washavoki,” said Dar, showing off her limited Orcish.

The conversation turned to language, and as Dar walked with Kovok-mah, he pointed at things and named them. Dar repeated the words, then Kovok-mah corrected her pronunciation. After a while, he began a new lesson. “We put words together to make new ones. Here is sense of ‘urkzimmuthi.’ ‘Zim’ is child. ‘Urkzim’ is more than one child.”

“We’d say ‘children.’” Dar looked puzzled. “You call yourselves childrenmother?”

“Thwa,” said Kovok-mah. “Muth is mother. “Muthi means…” He paused to think. “…‘of mother.’ We add sound at end of one word to show it speaks about another word.”

“So ‘urkzimmuthi’ means ‘children of mother.’”

“Hai.” Kovok-mah held out a washuthahi seed. “‘Wash’ means ‘teeth.’ ‘Uthahi’ means ‘pretty.’”

Although Dar thought the seed looked somewhat like an orc’s black tooth, she was amused that it was called “teeth-pretty.” She suspected that chewing these seeds had affected her mood, for she felt lighthearted despite the foul weather.

That mood persisted when the lesson was over and Dar headed to rejoin the women. She grinned broadly as she splashed up the road. Taren, Kari, Neena, and Loral didn’t share Dar’s cheerfulness. They looked bedraggled and dispirited as they slogged along. Neena was shocked when Dar smiled at her. “Dar!” she said. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Your teeth are black!” said Neena.

“Let me see,” said Taren. Dar opened her mouth and Taren peered inside. “They’re as black as any orc’s. You must have done something.”

“I chewed a few of those seeds,” said Dar. She suddenly understood why “washuthahi” meant “teeth-pretty” and laughed.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” said Neena, “You look awful.”

“Not very kissable,” said Taren, “though I guess that doesn’t bother you.”

“Not in the slightest,” said Dar.

“Ugh!” said Neena. “Why would you eat orc food?”

“Those seeds aren’t food,” said Dar. “They’re something else. A kind of magic.”

“That’s even worse,” said Kari. “Maybe you’ll turn into an orc.”

Dar playfully flashed a broad, black-toothed grin. “Maybe. I should ask about that.” She turned about and headed toward the marching orcs. When she reached Kovok-mah, she curled back her lips in an orcish smile. “Nuk merz wash uthahi?”
Are my teeth pretty?

Kovok-mah seemed pleased that Dar had returned. He smiled back. “Therz wash nuk zar uthahi.”
Your teeth are very pretty
.

“If ‘washuthahi’ means ‘pretty teeth,’ what does ‘washavoki’ mean?” asked Dar.

“‘Avok’ means ‘dog.’”

“So washavokis have the white teeth of dogs?” asked Dar.

Kovok-mah hissed with orcish laughter. “Dargu nak thwa washavoki. Darguz wash nuk uthahi.” Some of the other orcs joined in laughing.

Dar mentally translated.
Weasel is not dog-teeth. Weasel’s teeth are pretty
. She smiled.
Maybe they are
, she thought,
to an orc
.

The rain stopped falling in the afternoon, but the sky remained dark. By then, Dar’s buoyant mood had faded, and she was as tired and miserable as the other women. Loral suddenly gasped. “My pains are worse!”