by Aaron Crash
“Yes, Ymir. Yes, let’s drink beer and laugh.” She stood up and slipped on her storm cloak.
He rumbled laughter. “You are the oddest orc that has ever lived. I heard the Gruul don’t like books, and here you are, reading. Why do you like your books so much?”
She walked over and put her hand in his. “Why do you like yours? We’re both here most hours of the day. Perhaps you are the oddest barbarian who ever lived.”
Their footsteps echoed as they walked through the Librarium and into the feasting hall.
Ymir laughed. “I was given this magic against my will. I was exiled to this strange place, where the rules are clear—learn fast, learn well, or die. Reading is my weapon. You don’t like to lose. Nor do I. So I have been forced into this study. But you? You chose this.”
“I did,” Gatha agreed.
They left the feasting hall and walked out under a covered walkway. Rain gushed through the gutters and dripped down. The noise was loud after the quiet inside. The she-orc faced him. “Migdish was my friend. She loved books because she was crippled.”
“A withered leg,” Ymir said.
“A withered leg. Yes.” Gatha stared out into the night. Funny, but he’d rarely seen her so at peace. It was the battle...it had soothed some part of her. She wore the bruises well. Not one woman in a thousand could walk so proudly with such a marred face. “She chose to be merry, not unlike Tori. Migdish lived a thousand lives, tens of thousands of lives, in her books. We met in nursery school. At first, I hated her for being weak. I thought I would’ve killed myself if I had been her. Then I pitied her. Then I was fascinated by her. How could she be so happy? Why hadn’t her family let her die because of her withered leg? Why hadn’t they cast her out?”
The wind swept rain into them, and Gatha instinctively drew close to him. They both had their hoods on, and their faces were close. Her eyes went to his. Her soap smelled good. Her hair was clean and bright in the gloom. Light leaked through the windows of the feasting hall.
The she-orc continued with her story. “I went to her, to study her, and I thought once I unraveled the mystery of Migdish, I could move on. Only I didn’t. The girl brought me into her family. Unlike my family, they loved each other, and there was enough love for me as well. I saw how truly happy a ptoor could be. She shared her books with me. Her father was a teacher at a small college in Ssunash, a place most people laughed at because in Ssunash, like in most Gruul cities, the Pits are everything. The entire city surrounds the Ssunash Arena. It is the center of life, the obsession of my people. The battle is everything. The woman who is the strongest, the best, gets to choose her ptoor. And how we fight each other to get that choice.”
She put her face in his chest. “Not Migdish. She couldn’t fight. She was destined to be igptoor, a woman without a family. She had family enough though, with her father and mothers. With her books. So when I wasn’t training, I was reading. I longed to be as free as the heroes in my stories. I longed for peace and quiet. I wanted to be done with Ssunash and my family there. My evil family. My fucking mother.” She jerked away from him and snapped out her tusks in anger. She then drew them slowly back into her mouth as she turned away, her arms around herself. The rain continued to fall in the night.
“And that’s what happened,” Ymir whispered. “I remember your words. You are Gatha of Ssunash. You are igptoor. You chose not to have a family because you are the princess of the Pits, death’s bride, war’s wet cunt.”
She turned. Her eyes were wounded, but there were no tears. “They had many names for me. I didn’t lose, Ymir. I wouldn’t let myself lose. Because my one hope was to win, over and over, until that last terrible fight. By that time, I had so much blood on my hands they could never be clean again. I could be free. Nothing would stop me. Not my mother. Not my sister. Not Donnalg. Not even Migdish, who would’ve had me dishonor myself. She told me not to fight that last match. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps that would’ve been for the best.” She closed her eyes. She then reached out her arms.
She was a child again, this warrior woman, and she needed to be held.
Ymir took her in his arms and held her. He’d gotten enough of her story to know that her books were her life, and that all those months away she’d been healing whatever tragedies she had suffered. He recalled her reaction to Archaka Lawreen in the Tragedy of Ckaj and Niadne. She’d had to make some impossible choice that strained her morality. He didn’t know what that was, and he wasn’t going to ask right then.
He couldn’t help but be proud that he’d been able to beat her that afternoon. It sounded like she’d spent years fighting in the gladiatorial pits. She was battle hardened and world weary and strong, so strong, and so fast. No wonder Gharam had touted her as the best warrior at Old Ironbound. In a very real sense, she was.
And yet, she was this broken little bird. Perhaps every little victory had weakened her in some way, had weakened her spirit, and she’d been pushed to the very limits of who she was and what she could do. It was no mystery why they’d had such a tumultuous relationship—they were so much alike—bloodstained warriors reading in a library.
He waited until she sighed, and he knew that his broken little bird had found some peace in his arms. She stepped back. “Well, clansman, are we going to this fucking party? Or do you want to know my favorite fucking flavor of sweet cream?”
“I don’t know what sweet cream is,” he admitted.
She grabbed his arm like they were battle brothers. “They served it in the arena. The Ssunash fighting pits had the best sweet cream on the Blood Steppes. Grass City Creamery, it’s very famous. I miss only two things about that fucking city—Migdish and shudagrass sweet cream. Shudagrass tastes a lot like vanilla.” She dragged Ymir out into the rain, which pattered down on his hood. It was hard to hear, but he could catch her mumbling under her breath, “And I don’t miss Donnalg Sterllig Gowgin at all. I really thought I would.”
The Zoo was to the left of the Chapel of the Tree, down an alley, at the very end of the Moons housing. The rathole apartments clung to the southern cliffs. Smoke drifted from various chimneys on other cells. Ymir heard voices inside the kitchen, which was at the top of the pile of rooms. He pushed open the door, going in first. The entryway hooks were loaded with cloaks and robes.
The kitchen was packed with people. Across the way, a big window showed another great view of Angel Bay. The StormLight lighthouse flashed. A ladder was to the left of the window, a set of narrow steps to the right.
Kacky, the big-bellied she-orc, finished off a joke with a hearty punchline: “That wasn’t a dwarf’s dick, that was a horse’s uht, but I can see why you’re confused. They taste the same!”
The entire room exploded with laughter.
Gatha closed the door and all eyes fell on Ymir. The room lifted their glasses and let out a hearty yell.
“There he is!”
Ymir scanned the faces and saw most of the normal Zoo residents, like the kaif-addicted Belissina, who went to every Chapel of the Tree service. One person that hadn’t joined the party was Zorynda Gold, Tori’s fairy roommate. Then again, the fairies kept to themselves.
Lillee stood in a corner, looking like a nervous cat and clutching her wine like a lifeline. Jennybelle was in the middle of the room, smiling. With her was Prissybelle and a few other Swamp Coast women that had stayed true. Also with them was the woman from Williminaville, Mimilynn Banette, the dark-haired, black-skinned woman who had connected them with Salt Love and Sambal.
Fryla Walker stood with her orc boyfriend’s arms wrapped around her. Erigg Bloogg, green skinned and tusked, nodded at Ymir. Next to them stood Buck Minefinder, the dwarf in their class. He was drinking beer from a mug.
Tori, holding a tray of cookies in hands covered in oven mitts, pushed aside some other denizens of the Zoo. Three different pots dripped hot kaif. The keg was set in the western wall next to a cubby full of wine bottles. A set of little steps led up to the keg so Tori had access.
Ymir moved into the room. And when the happy eyes found Gatha, an odd silence fell. Everyone knew the she-orc librarian, but she wasn’t friendly, not friendly at all. The silence was more surprise than anything.
Then Tori let out a happy shriek. “Gatha!” She slammed her pan down and hurried over to hug the she-orc. Gatha looked pained until she hugged her friend.
The dwab darted back. “Your face! Who did that to you?”
Gatha gave Ymir a long look full of meaning, some admiration, and maybe a modicum of affection. “Ymir. We battled. He won.”
“I got lucky,” Ymir said good-naturedly and motioned to the cut on his face. “It was one of the best fights of my life.” He grabbed a tankard and went to the keg, tilted his cup, and filled it carefully to get as much beer as possible. Then he grabbed some wings and chewed on the spicy meat, spitting the bones into a bowl next to the platter. Gatha had a tankard herself, and she stood close to him.
He noticed Kacky and Gluck give Gatha disgusted looks—there was hate on their faces.
Then Kacky glanced away and laughed as loud as she could. “And speaking of horse cock, I swear, Gluck fucked that horse in River City.”
Gluck laughed louder. “What can I say? It’s the Withering, so there aren’t that many men around. Besides, he had the most adorable brown eyes!”
That brought tales of more mirth.
The fat she-orc loved the audience. “You got lucky there, Gluck. Most horses like to fuck women with a little more meat on their bones.” She slapped her belly and turned that wit on her friend. “Tell us again about that shower sex you almost had?”
Gluck snapped out her tusks. “Well, I was getting hot with Buck over there, because who doesn’t like a man with a beard?”
“Hear that Ymir!” Tori yelled. “Bless my stone bits, but you need a beard!”
Lillee seemed to melt further into her corner. With her essess on, the dirty jokes and ribald insults were uncomfortable for her. However, the elf was trying to be a good sport. Oddly enough, she seemed more at home in the room than Gatha, who was so awkward and quiet. Was it those glances from the other she-orcs in the room?
Jenny bit her lip and made yummy sounds. “Yes, Ymir, I’d like a little more tickle from you when you’re between my sweet thighs.”
Ymir quaffed down half the beer. “You get tickle enough, woman. But I’ll see what I can do. I’d like a way to save your flavor, and a beard would do the trick.”
Jenny’s mouth fell open. “What a thing to say!”
“Dammit!” Gluck roared. “Barbarian, I was in the middle of my story. Buck obviously wants me to tell it.”
Buck Minefinder let out a roar of his own. “My oober would disown me if he ever found out I was fucking orcs!”
Tori stopped her work, blinked, and shook her head. She rattled off a bunch of words in Morbuskorian. She was clearly shocked. Ymir’s Morbuskorian was very rudimentary, but he thought she was telling Buck that what he was saying was very inappropriate. Would he be saying such things in front of his ahmer and oober?
Buck raised his tankard to her. Beer dripped from his substantial beard. “My ahmer is the one who taught me to talk dirty, Toriah Welldeep. The times are changing. We can’t keep our secrets forever. Besides, if we don’t show a little lewdness every now and again, people will assume we’re fucking elves.”
“Like fucking elves?” Jenny asked. “Or that you’re like elves?”
“Both!” Buck drank more and beer splattered the floor. He motioned for Gluck to continue. “Very well, orc. Tell the rest!”
Buck and Gluck, that was too cute by far.
Ymir had thought he’d get around to pounding Kacky and Gluck, but then his life had changed. He couldn’t fault Buck for getting some green tail. Those Gruul girls were fun and nasty.
The clansman had no idea where this story was going, but he was glad to be there, with his friends, to hear the end of it.
Chapter Seventeen
SKINNY GLUCK WIPED her mouth with the back of her hand. “So Buck and I were in the Flow shower, not the nasty one near the sea cells, but the nice one, across from the Sea Stair Market.”
“Not as nice as mine, Gluck.” Jenny shot Ymir a glance. They still hadn’t gotten to their own bout of shower sex.
Fat Kacky growled at her, “We all can’t be rich bitch witches like you, Jennybelle Josen. But let my friend finish this fucking story. Can you finish, Gluck?”
“Like that horse finished on me, Kack!” Gluck cackled, as did the rest of the people in the room. The thin she-orc raised a hand. “So Buck grabs me and pulls me in, and we’re going to fuck in the shower, like so many do, when wouldn’t you know it? I slipped right down the drain.”
Kacky hooted. “Because you’re too damn skinny, Gluck! You slipped down the fucking drain!”
Gluck stuck out her tongue. “And Buck didn’t help me at all. He just stood over the drain and jerked off. What an asshole!”
“You got me too horny, Gluck,” the dwarf insisted.
Tori gave him another warning look, and Buck shrugged. Ymir had the idea the dwarf didn’t care one way or the other what Tori thought since she was beardless.
Ymir couldn’t help but laugh at the stupidity of it all.
It went on like that for a while, until it was clear that Kacky and Gluck were a bit too drunk to be funny, and it was Buck that got them back to their own cells in Moons. Prissy and Mimilynn drifted away, and the group got smaller. Gatha left Ymir’s side to drift over to Lillee. The two stood together, and Ymir liked the sight. Lillee was empathetic, and Gatha needed a friend like that.
As for Jennybelle, she’d drunk herself silly, and she draped herself over Ymir. They had enough room to sit at the central table, and he continued to eat and drink. With Kacky and Gluck gone, Ymir took over with the jokes and stories.
As for Fryla and Erigg, their touches had become a bit too intimate, and they withdrew down to their room. Just because the party was thinning didn’t mean that Tori would stop for a minute. She changed from cooking to cleaning.
It was only just Ymir and his princesses when Charibda Delphino marched up into the kitchen. Her blue hair was mussed, the single purple stripe frizzy, and she wore a wispy little nightgown that was basically transparent. She wasn’t wearing underwear.
She stomped over to a Flow cupboard. She opened the door and grabbed a cold jar of milk. “Your fucking party was loud enough, Tori, but now I have to listen to Fryla and Erigg grunting. And that bed slamming against the wall. And she gets this little whiny voice, ‘Uh, I’m coming. I’m coming.’ Who fucking cares?”
The foul-tempered mermaid slammed the bottle on the counter. “And I know you dirt worms will say I snore too loud, but it’s not that loud, I’m sure, and there is nothing I can do about it.”
While the mermaid ranted, Ymir tilted his head to take a nice, long look at her ass. She had the bone spurs coming off her heel as well, though on her they seemed almost elegant. Her legs were very nice and long. Well, they should be, since she could shift her fins into legs so she should be able to choose what they looked like. Why did she include the bone spur on her leg? That was a bit of a mystery.
Jenny slapped him for looking too long.
He flashed her an unapologetic grin.
Gatha closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief at the whole scene. There was a good chance she was wishing she had stayed in the Librarium.
Lillee’s eyes were also on the slender form of the very tall, very troublesome mermaid. The Sullied elf adjusted her cuff.
They all fell silent.
Charibda turned. “You all got quiet. What? Only one person in this kitchen actually lives here. You all should leave. It
’s a Tuesday night, for the love of the deep. We have classes tomorrow.” She spun and poured herself a mug of milk. “Oh, I get it. I see what’s going on here.”
Ymir raised an eyebrow at Gatha. She shrugged. Jenny rolled her eyes. Lillee continued to stare at the mermaid’s body. As for Tori, she was at the sink, doing the dishes.
None of them needed to say a thing. The mermaid could handle all parts of the conversation. She stared at them and sipped her milk. “You all think that wave was my fault. Not my fault, but my uncle’s probably. You wormies hate us merfolk. I’ve heard that my entire life. You think we’re so weird, living under the water, and you think we’re cold-hearted and terrible and should all be killed. Well, let’s just say we have not forgotten the Red Tide Massacre. I mean, I can’t forget it. It killed basically my whole family. I was sick at home, or I would’ve been there. I would be dead too. I bet you would all be happy.”
Tori slammed a cookie sheet down on the counter. “No, Ribby, you’re wrong. You make it a pain to like you, but that’s fine. I’m up to the task, I am. How about we cut through the muck. What’s really bothering you?”
“And why do you like milk?” Ymir asked. “Or maybe your kind milks sea cows? I suppose that is possible.”
“Yeah, it’s possible!” Charibda snorted and snuffled in disgust. “They are mammals. And if you must know, I like milk, though I prefer sea cow milk. We’ve had them domesticated for centuries, not that you’d care. None of you care. You think we’re fish people. Well, we’re not. We have the same basic biology as you all. We can intermarry and interbreed. So, we’re not that fucking different.” She threw a snarl at Tori. “That’s one reason why I’m upset. Do you want to know another one? You threw a party without asking me.”
“I did ask you to come,” Tori said. “Knocked on your door and everything, Charibda.”
Ymir noted that Tori used the preferred name.