[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (16 page)

“You’re always thirsty,” said Kol. “Rain or shine.”

“Aye, that’s true enough. So why don’t ye share what’s in yer bag?”

Kol opened his saddlebag. “I must save one bottle, but here’s another.”

Teeg grinned when he saw the bottle’s shape. “Is that brandy?”

“Yes, honey brandy.”

“I saw some fine cloth, too.”

“A dress,” said Kol.

“For yer woman?”

“It may prove useful.”

Teeg used his dagger to pry the cork from the bottle. He took a long swig and sighed contentedly. “Why bother with a dress? Just tup her and be done with it.”

“That would be your way,” said Kol.

“Easiest is best,” said Teeg. “That’s my creed.”

“So why hunt boars when you can get hogs from a pen?”

Teeg shot Kol a puzzled look. “What?”

“It’s the chase that makes it interesting.”

Teeg snorted. “Ye don’t know what a woman’s good for. It’s not chasin’. Besides, why her? Ye can’t like the look of her piss eye teeth.” He took another swig.

“The black teeth are just one of her ploys,” said Kol. “She’s full of tricks. Did you know the piss eyes call her Weasel?”

Teeg laughed. “She’s weasely, all right.”

“Clever,” said Kol. “And daring for a woman. Worthy quarry.”

“Worthy? Are you daft, man? Just hold her down and poke her.”

“She’s the type that pokes you back…and with something sharper than a prick.”

“Then why’d ye give her a dagger?”

“A boar needs tusks,” said Kol with an enigmatic smile.

Teeg rolled his eyes. The two men regarded each other, each contemplating how different they were.

Kol took a swallow from the bottle. “I want to tame her, not just tup her,” he said.

“And what will ye do with her once she’s tamed?”

“Then you can have her,” said Kol. “It’s the hunt I enjoy.”

Nineteen

By the third week of the march, the Urkheit Mountains filled the horizon. One peak rose behind another without any apparent end, marking the northern boundary of the kingdom. The ground over which Dar traveled was no longer flat, but rolled gently in anticipation of bounding upward. The land was less dry, and trees often grew between the fields.

The mountains appeared closer than they actually were. The Turgen Bridge, which lay south of their foothills, was still three days away. The far side of the bridge marked the end of the first leg of the march. The regiment would reassemble there, then merge with the rest of the king’s army. When it resumed marching, it would be into hostile territory.

The nearness of the staging point brought a change among the soldiers that was gradual yet as marked as the change in the scenery. The men developed an edginess that mixed eagerness and apprehension. The approaching hostilities also affected the orcs. Though Dar still avoided them, it was impossible not to notice how quiet they had become.

Near day’s end, the shieldron halted at a deserted farmstead. The soldiers rummaged through empty buildings that had been picked clean, either by fleeing peasants or by other soldiers. As Dar went to groom and feed Thunder, she anticipated meager rations that evening. At the barn, a soldier was grooming the officers’ horses, but Murdant Kol’s steed was absent.

“Where’s Thunder?” Dar asked.

“The murdant went for a ride.”

Dar left the barn to help prepare dinner. As she cooked porridge and waited for Kol’s return, she wondered why he would go riding after spending all day in the saddle. Many of the murdant’s actions puzzled her, but she understood him well enough to know that he did nothing by whim. The porridge was nearly ready by the time Dar heard hoofbeats and saw Kol riding toward the barn. She turned to Neena. “Will you watch over the pot? I’ve got to groom Thunder.”

Neena took the stirring paddle from Dar. “That man sure fusses over his horse,” she said. “I’d think he’d be more interested in you.”

“I prefer it this way,” said Dar as she headed for the barn.

Murdant Kol was still mounted when Dar arrived. He smiled. “You needn’t feed Thunder tonight. I found a field of fresh spring grass. You can ride with me to it.”

Dar was instantly wary. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“Then it’s time you did. Climb on behind me.”

Dar understood that, despite the murdant’s smile, he was giving an order. Still, she hesitated to obey. Dar scrutinized Kol’s face to determine his intentions, but it was bland and unreadable.

“Hurry up,” Kol said. “Thunder won’t graze in the dark.”

Dar touched the hilt of the dagger that hung from a cord about her waist. She was unconscious of the gesture until she noticed Kol watching her hand. “Don’t be nervous,” he said.

Dar resolved to prove she was not. She hopped onto a box and raised her shift so she could throw a leg over Thunder’s back and sit behind Murdant Kol. The saddle was too small for two, so her seat was precarious. Dar gripped the horse’s flanks with her bare legs and feet and wrapped her arms around Kol’s waist. Thunder’s coarse coat felt rough against her skin and Kol’s leather armor, sewn with metal plates, felt no better. Dar hoped it would be a short ride.

They rode out of camp at a pace that forced Dar to grip Kol tightly to keep from falling. The bouncing ride was uncomfortable, but it was also thrilling. Dar felt the horse’s power and relished her connection to it. Yet she didn’t let the experience distract her. Dar was careful to keep her bearings as they rode through the countryside. Thus, when they halted before an isolated cottage, she realized Kol had taken a roundabout route.

“Get off,” said Kol. “Remove Thunder’s bridle and let him graze. You can groom him when we get back to camp. I’m going to light a fire.” Dar slid off the horse, then Kol dismounted and entered the small, thatchroofed cottage.

While Dar unbridled Thunder, her mind raced. She suspected the moment she had long dreaded was at hand.
He calls me his woman. Tonight, he’ll claim me.
The prospect roused a mixture of apprehension and anger. Yet Dar wasn’t completely without hope.
Perhaps he’s been truthful and only wants to protect me.
The notion ran counter to Dar’s instincts, but it made entering the cottage seem less like capitulation. The only other option was fleeing. Dar touched the brand on her forehead. Its raised scar felt very prominent.
There’s no refuge.

Soon, Thunder grazed contentedly as the setting sun made the grass glow green-gold. Smoke drifted from the cottage chimney. The countryside—in contrast to Dar’s inner turmoil—was calm and peaceful. Dar sighed, then steeled herself to face Murdant Kol.

The cottage smelled of herbs when Dar entered it. Some light came from an unglazed window, but the single room was mainly lit by a fireplace, where splintered furniture burned. Bundles of herbs hung from the roof beams and pegs that lined the walls. The only furnishings that remained were a straw mattress on the floor and a plank—probably from a tabletop—that was set before it. Murdant Kol sat on the mattress. Upon the plank were several hunks of cheese, a loaf of bread, sausages, dried fruit, and a dark green bottle. To Dar, it seemed a banquet.

Murdant Kol had removed his leather armor. It was the first time Dar had seen him without it. He looked less threatening in a cloth shirt. He smiled. “Why should Thunder feast while we get porridge?”

Dar’s mouth watered at the sight of the food, but she remained put. Kol shook his head. “You look nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” said Dar. “Just surprised. Why all this food?”

“Don’t you think you deserve it? Come enjoy yourself. We’ll have to return to camp soon.”

Dar relaxed slightly when Kol spoke of returning to camp. She walked over to the mattress and sat down, trying to keep her distance from the murdant without being obvious. Kol handed her the bottle. “I fear I have no goblets.”

“I’m not used to goblets,” said Dar, lifting the bottle for a sip. The liquid tasted of honey and warmed her throat and empty stomach. “What’s this?”

“A treat,” said Kol, “maybe the last for a long while. We’ll be at the base camp soon. Thousands of orcs, men, and horses.”

“
Thousands?
”

“Yes, it’ll be chaos and short rations until the war begins.”

“When will that be?”

“I’m not privy to the king’s plans. Soon enough, I suppose. But not before you’re sick of base camp.”

Dar took another swallow from the bottle. “What’s war like?”

“It’s flesh meeting metal—a hard game. A man’s game.”

“An orc’s, too?”

“Piss eyes spill blood better than most, but a game requires strategy, and they lack it. It’s men that win wars.”

“And the women?” said Dar. “What about them?”

“The smart ones get by. Some handsomely.”

“War must be more than a game.”

“All life’s a game, and winning and losing are what matters.” Kol gave Dar a meaningful look. “That, and whose side you’re on.”

Dar did not like where the conversation was headed. “Murdant Teeg said you knew the reason for this war, the one he called long-winded.”

Kol smiled, but Dar couldn’t tell if it was because of Teeg’s remark or the transparency of her change of subject. “The tale’s not too long,” he said. “Old King Kregant loved peace overmuch, so when his wife’s father died, he made no claim on the estate. Instead, he let the lands pass to King Feistav, who had no more right to them than he. Things changed when our present king took the throne. He renewed the claim.”

“And started a war?”

“Strong men take strong measures.”

That remark was on Dar’s mind as she glanced about the herb-filled cottage. “This was a Wise Woman’s home. Few would harm a healer. I’m surprised she fled.”

Kol shrugged. “Her ill fortune isn’t ours. You hungry?”

Dar grinned, already feeling the effects of Kol’s brandy. “That’s a silly question.”

“Then it’s silly not to eat. Dig in. You’re not sitting at the Queen’s Man’s table. I’m only a lowly murdant.”

“A lowly
high
murdant,” said Dar. “They say even Tolum Karg’s scared of you.”

Murdant Kol looked pleased. “And why would he be afraid of me?”

“I don’t know,” said Dar. “They just say he is.”

Kol reached out and stroked Dar’s arm. “I hope
you’re
not afraid of me.”

Dar felt her hair rise. “No,” she mumbled.

Kol broke off a chunk of cheese and handed it to Dar. She bit into it, savoring its flavor. The last time she had tasted cheese was at a cousin’s wedding. The sausages, and even the bread, were novelties. Dar’s hunger shifted her thoughts to the food, while the honeyed liquor relaxed her. As her belly filled and her head grew lighter, Dar eased her guard. She flopped back onto the cloth-covered straw. She was lying still, feeling pleasantly satiated, when Kol began touching one of her feet. She giggled. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing what size boots I should get you.”

“Boots?”

“You highland girls are tough, but I doubt you walk barefoot in the snow.”

Dar sat up. “I had boots at home. Shoes, too.”

Kol pulled a garment from a bag and held it up. “Did you own a dress as fine as this?”

Dar gazed with wonder at the elegant blue-gray dress. She wiped her hand on her tattered shift before fingering its fabric. It was soft and finely woven. “I’ve had only homespun.”

“It’s yours.”

Dar regarded Murdant Kol. The drink had loosened his self-control and his eyes betrayed a mixture of lust and triumph. “Try it on,” he said.

A note of command in Kol’s voice brought back Dar’s apprehension. “I’d have to undress.”

“So? I’ve seen women’s bodies.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“It’s time I did.”

Kol’s smug tone rekindled Dar’s resentment. She rose slowly, attempting to appear calm. “I don’t want your dress.”

Kol rose also. “Suit yourself. It won’t change anything. You’re still mine.” His hand shot out and grabbed the neck of Dar’s shift. With one downward pull, he tore apart its stitches and ripped it further. For an instant, Dar teetered between terror and rage. Then rage won.

Instead of covering her breasts, Dar reached for her dagger. Kol had apparently anticipated the move, for he seized her wrist as the weapon cleared its sheath. After a brief struggle, he twisted the dagger from Dar’s hand and threw it into the fire. He still gripped Dar’s wrist, and the two glared at each other. Kol answered Dar’s fury with cool menace. “You’ll regret that,” he said.

The murdant grabbed the torn edges of Dar’s shift to finish ripping it off. As he tugged at the fabric, she swung a knee into his groin. Kol gasped and let go. He stood still momentarily, and Dar landed a second and more forceful blow in the same place. This time, the murdant doubled over, and Dar dashed into the evening. She grabbed Thunder’s bridle and tossed it onto the cottage’s roof. Then she found a stone and threw it hard against Thunder’s hindquarters. The horse reared up and galloped off. Dar sprinted in the other direction, stopping only when she reached the cover of a line of trees.

Twenty