[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property

by Morgan Howell

  Dar kicked at the orc with her free leg, but only hurt her bare foot against his metal armor. The orc began to swing her to build momentum for the first bone-shattering blow. Already, her leg felt as if it were being wrenched off. She gritted her teeth, expecting to die.

  A second orc arrived, and the swinging stopped abruptly. It sounded as if the two were arguing. One orc began to growl, and when the growl approached the intensity of a roar, the hand let go of Dar’s ankle. She dropped to the ground and lay there, stunned.

  When Dar’s eyes could focus, she saw that Kovok-mah stood over her. He was watching another orc retreat. Presently, he leaned down and spoke. “Dargu, you should not have slept there.”

  Dar was too dazed and shaken to do more than moan.

  “Are you broken?” asked Kovok-mah.

  Dar sat up and moved her leg. The red beginnings of a bruise encircled her ankle and there was a shooting pain deep in her thigh, but her bones seemed intact. “I’m still in one piece. Why did he do that?”

  “He did not like your smell.”

  “I washed before I served.”

  “I told him that,” said Kovok-mah.

  “You also said ‘Dargu nak muth,’ that I am a mother.”

  Kovok-mah curled back his lips. “You understood that?”

  “I understood the words, but not the meaning. I have no child.”

  “Washavokis have strange thoughts,” replied Kovok-mah.

  “We don’t kill people for the way they smell.”

  “You find other reasons,” said Kovok-mah. He gazed at the crowd of people standing outside the circle of branches. “You should leave,” he said, lifting Dar to her feet. When Dar was standing, he strode away and disappeared into the ranks of orcs. They were staring at Dar, as were the soldiers and women. Slowly and painfully, Dar limped to her own kind.

  Murdant Kol was waiting with the others. His eyes bore into Dar, yet his face remained a mask. Dar could see no way to avoid the murdant without being oblivious, so she walked directly to him. At the moment, he seemed as terrifying as any orc. When she left the circle, he gripped her arm. “Come with me,” he said, his voice cool and official.

  Kol set a quick pace, forcing Dar to hobble as best she could. The effort was agonizing. Dar noted that the crowd of onlookers hung back. When they were out of earshot, Kol halted, but he didn’t release Dar’s arm. “What was the meaning of that stupid trick?”

  Dar had a ready answer. “I was afraid.”

  “Afraid?” said Kol, his hard voice almost mocking. “Afraid of what?”

  “The men. They were drunk and rowdy. And you…” She forced some tears. “…you weren’t there.”

  “You were perfectly safe,” said Kol, his voice a bit softer. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

  Dar knew she should throw her arms around Kol, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she grasped her leg with her free hand. “Ohhhh, my leg. It feels torn off!”

  “Be grateful it isn’t.” Murdant Kol seemed to be making up his mind. After a moment, he released her arm. “You’ll be fine when I see you next.”

  Dar attempted to look pleased at the prospect. “I know I’ve been silly. Will you forgive me?”

  Kol smiled, shaking his head. “How could I not? You’re only a scabhead. Now, join your shieldron—it’s moving out.”

  Dar limped away to find Taren and, perhaps, get something to eat. The camp was in a state of chaos. Soldiers and women milled about, as oxen-drawn wagons moved toward the road. Only the orcs seemed organized. They stood on the rise, formed into six shieldrons, each six orcs wide and six orcs deep. Their bundled shelters were strapped upon their broad backs. In the end, it was Taren who found Dar. She handed Dar her ragged shift. “No time to change,” she said. “You’ll have to hurry.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” said Dar.

  “Murdant Teeg will let you ride in the wagon if you can catch it. Murdant Kol gave the word.”

  When Dar’s effort to reach the wagon made her gasp with pain, Taren asked, “Why’d you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Hide like that,” said Taren. “You were safe from the men. You’re the high murdant’s woman.”

  “I wasn’t safe from the high murdant,” whispered Dar. “I couldn’t bear to…you know.” She glanced at Taren and saw her expression had softened.

  “Poor thing,” said Taren. “What are you goin’ to do?”

  “He’s staying in the rear, so I’m safe.”

  “But only awhile,” said Taren. “I know little about men, but I do know this—delay feeds desire.”

  Nine

  When Dar reached Murdant Teeg’s wagon she was pale and gasping from the effort. Her thigh throbbed painfully, its skin already stretched tight by swelling. The murdant jerked her up to the driver’s bench, which was the only place to sit. “Don’t put on airs ’cause yer ridin’, birdie. If it was up to me, ye’d walk.”

  “I can’t walk,” said Dar. “At least, not fast enough to keep up.”

  “Thoughts of bounty takers would speed yer steps.” Teeg gestured to the roadside, where two heads were mounted on stakes. Dar turned away from the sight, but not before glimpsing Leela’s long hair blowing in the breeze. Teeg laughed. “Ye’d keep up.”

  Once the wagon reached the main road, the shieldron looked more organized. A tolum and his sustolum led the way on horseback. The two officers were the only mounted men. With the exception of Dar, Murdant Teeg, and Muut, who drove the second wagon, everyone else walked. The soldiers and the women trailed the wagons. The orcs marched in the rear.

  “So war’s begun,” said Dar.

  “It never stopped,” said Teeg, “though we rest in winter.”

  “Perhaps, this time, the king will regain his land.”

  “His land?” Teeg grinned. “Aye, why not call it his.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “’Tis worth takin’, I know that. If a man wants to fight, he’ll find cause. The king’s no different.”

  “Why would he want to fight?”

  “To fill his purse and pay his soldiers. That’s reason ’nough for me. If ye wanted the long-winded one, ye should’ve asked Kol. He knows that stuff.”

  Thoughts of upcoming battles caused Dar to gaze at the marching orcs, who looked grim in their armor. She watched them awhile, both frightened and fascinated. “What army could face them?”

  Teeg spit. “Piss eyes aren’t real soldiers.”

  “They look fiercer than any soldier.”

  “Aye, they’re fierce. Deadly, too,” said Teeg. “I suppose ye know nothin’ of huntin’ boars.”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Them boars are dangerous. Their tusks can rip open any horse or man. To hunt a boar, ye need dogs to run it down and grip it till the spearman comes. Dogs hold fast even as they’re torn apart.”

  “What does that have to do with orcs?”

  “Piss eyes are like them dogs. They’re strong and tough, but they lack guile. It’s guile that wins battles. That’s why a man’s in charge of the regiments.”

  “Why would orcs obey a man?”

  “They don’t, really,” said Teeg. “They obey their queen, though it’s a man who gives her orders.”

  “The Queen’s Man?”

  “Aye, all his orders are in her name.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some treaty between her and our king.”

  “What do the orcs get out of it?”

  “I’ve no idea. All I know is they don’t serve from friendship. They hate us all. Remember that next time yer lookin’ for a place to sleep.”

  “I was stupid last night,” said Dar.

  “Less stupid than tuppin’ another man. Kol’s not one to cross.”

  “I’ve already figured that out.”

  “Then yer not so stupid after all.”

  “When do you think I’ll see him again?”

  “Already pinin’ for him?” Teeg gr
inned, making Dar wonder if he had guessed her true feelings. “Well don’t worry. Kol likes to ride with the advance shieldron and his horse is faster than my oxen. He’ll catch up quick enough. A week or two at most.”

  The wagons set the pace for the march and it was slow. The weather was pleasant, and under different circumstances, Dar would have enjoyed the ride. The fields they passed, though well tended, were empty. “Where are the people?” she asked.

  “Hidin’,” replied Teeg.

  “Of course, the orcs.”

  “Even without piss eyes, soldiers aren’t welcome.”

  “But you serve our king.”

  “We still need food, and peasants are stingy.”

  “Don’t you pay them?” asked Dar.

  Teeg laughed. “This is the king’s land, and we’re the king’s men. Why should the master pay for what’s his? Ye bear his brand. Did he pay for ye?”

  Dar realized that a visit from soldiers might spell starvation. Teeg must have read her expression, for he said, “Miss a few meals, and ye’ll not care where yer vittles come from. An empty belly’s a great cure for a conscience.”

  The shieldron marched until late afternoon, when it halted at a ruined farmstead. A few roofless huts, their walls burned and crumbling, stood amid fields overgrown with weeds and saplings. Teeg looked around in disgust. “Slim pickin’s tonight. Hop down, birdie, and get busy.”

  Dar limped to where the women were preparing a cooking area. “How’s your leg?” asked Taren.

  “Walking hurts, but I can work.”

  “Then help me with the tent and make porridge,” said Taren. She dragged a tent from a wagon and unrolled it. “You need not serve the orcs tonight.”

  “It’d be better if I did,” said Dar.

  “Why?” asked Taren. “The orc that attacked you is here.”

  “I know,” said Dar. “That’s the reason I should serve. He mustn’t think I fear him.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Of course, but he shouldn’t know it.”

  Taren shook her head, “How can you face an orc, but not a man?”

  After the soldiers tended to the oxen, they pitched their tents and disappeared into them, leaving the women to set up the rest of the camp. Dar, Loral, and Taren unloaded wagons while Neena and Kari got water and gathered firewood. Before long, the evening’s cooking was under way. The orcs’ food, which was prepared separately from the men’s, consisted solely of porridge.

  While the women worked, the orcs set up their own camp. First, they marked off a large circle by sticking branches in the ground. When that was done, they erected their shelters. Afterward, most of the orcs shed their armor and clothes and headed for a nearby stream. Dar assumed they were going to bathe. Two remained in battle gear. One accompanied the bathers; the other remained at the camp.

  Kovok-mah was the latter. When Dar had a free moment, she limped toward him until she was close enough to speak softly. “Shashav, Kovok-mah.”

  “How you know word for ‘thanks’?”

  “You say ‘Shashav Muth la’ when you get food, so I thought ‘shashav’ must mean ‘thanks.’”

  “Why you thank me?”

  “For saving my life.”

  “Zna-yat did improper thing,” said Kovok-mah. “I could not allow it.”

  Dar bowed her head. “Shashav. I would like to learn the words to tell Zna-yat I am sorry.”

  “Thwa,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Why not?”

  “Dargu nak muth.”

  “You keep saying that. I’m not a mother. I have no child.”

  “Bowl is for food. When it is empty, it is still bowl.”

  Dar realized that “muth” must be Orcish for both “mother” and “female.” “So, because I’m a mother, you won’t teach me?”

  “You should not say sorry to Zna-yat. Instead, say ‘Kala muth verlav tha.’ It means ‘This mother forgives you.’ This will not shame him, but it will help him see he was wrong.”

  Kovok-mah’s reasoning struck Dar as strange. No soldier would care if I forgave him. Yet, apparently, an orc would. “Kala muth verlav tha,” said Dar. “This mother forgives you.”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah. “You speak good.”

  “Shashav, Kovok-mah.” Dar saw orcs emerging from the woods. “I should go,” she said. “Vata, Kovok-mah.”

  “Vata, Dargu.”

  As Dar limped back to the cooking area, she smiled when she realized that “vata”—Orcish for “good-bye”—was the reverse of “tava,” which meant “hello.”

  “What are you smiling about?” asked Loral.

  “Something the orc said.”

  “I’ve never heard of orcs saying anything funny.”

  “Have you ever talked to one?” asked Dar.

  “No,” said Loral, “and I don’t intend to start. You, of all people, should know how risky that is.”

  Dinner was ready at sundown. Dar and Neena entered the sleeping tent to scrub the scent from their bodies and change into serving robes. The kettle held porridge for only thirty-six, and Dar was able to help carry it, despite her leg. It was she who addressed the orcs saying “Saf nak ur Muthz la”—Food is One Mother’s gift. When the orcs replied “Shashav Muth la”—Thanks One Mother—she felt partly included.

  That feeling gave Dar the courage to speak to Zna-yat. She limped over to her attacker, looking him squarely in the eye. His face was impassive, but Dar noted that his nostrils flared as she approached. She also noticed that every orc was watching her. Dar halted. “Zna-yat,” she said, “kala muth verlav tha.” Zna-yat, this mother forgives you.

  Zna-yat’s mouth twisted like Kovok-mah’s did when he was surprised. He muttered something Dar didn’t understand and turned his eyes away. Dar was unsure what effect her words had on Zna-yat, but merely uttering them made her feel bold.

  Ten

  The woods were deep in shadow; yet, as Kovok-mah returned from bathing, he had no difficulty finding his way. He liked the night, when the washavokis were nearly blind but the urkzimmuthi saw clearly. The washavokis usually grew quiet after Muth la hid her golden eye, and Kovok-mah relished the peace. The only sounds were natural ones. Frogs peeped their springtime love song. The stream gurgled over its stony bed. Leaves rustled. It felt good to have shed death’s hard clothes. Kovok-mah paused to let the breath of Muth la take the water from his skin. As he savored the tranquillity and the breeze, the day’s last light left the sky.

  Kovok-mah heard footsteps. He turned. Seeing Zna-yat approach, he greeted him in Orcish, the only language his cousin understood. “Tava, father’s sister’s son.”

  “Tava, mother’s brother’s son,” replied Zna-yat. “Thomak-tok asks how many guards tonight.”

  “Only one. Muth la hides her silver eye. Washavokis will stumble and make noise if they come.”

  “Hai,” agreed Zna-yat, “and we’re still far from place for killing.”

  “Still, washavokis kill anywhere.”

  “Hai. Anywhere.” Zna-yat lingered. When he spoke again, he used the intimate form of address permitted close friends. “Kovok, I’m puzzled.”

  “Why?”

  “This morning, you called one washavoki mother and didn’t let me kill it.”

  “Hai.”

  “I don’t understand. Washavokis can’t be mothers. They’re animals.”

  “All animals come in two kinds, and one kind is like mother.”

  “Being like one thing isn’t same as being it,” said Zna-yat.

  “One kind of washavoki called ‘woe man’ is enough like mothers that Muth la isn’t dishonored when they serve food. Our queen says so.”

  “I’d rather receive it from true mothers,” said Zna-yat.

  “I would, too,” said Kovok-mah. “But since I can’t, I’ll tolerate these woe mans. They’ll act more like mothers if we treat them so.”

  Zna-yat pondered what Kovok-mah had said. “Is that why you call Weasel mother?”

  “Hai.�
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  “There’s some sense in what you say, but only some.”

  “World has become strange,” said Kovok-mah, “and we must learn to do strange things.”

  “That Weasel spoke to me this evening. It said ‘This mother forgives you.’ I was much surprised.”

  “How did you reply?”

  “I said breath of Muth la would soon take its stink away.”

  “That was reasonable,” said Kovok-mah. “Weasel is clean for washavoki.”

  “Perhaps so, but your interest in it is peculiar.”

  “Interest?”

  “I’ve seen you speak to it. I know you taught it those words.”

  “Hai. It asked me to.”

  Zna-yat smiled. “Back home, you were always good to your goats. I think Weasel has become your new goat. That explains why you don’t mind its smell.”

  Kovok-mah laughed. “Zna, you understand me too well. Weasel is like my goat.”

  “It’s still washavoki.”

  “And mother,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Such thinking proves you’ve been away from home too long.”

  “Hai,” agreed Kovok-mah, “far too long.”

  The women, except for Dar, were exhausted from marching all day. The soldiers were tired also, and by nightfall the camp was a quiet place. Dar’s companions quickly fell asleep, but she was restless. No fatigue washed the worry from her mind or dulled the throbbing in her leg. Dar left the tent and peered into the night. There was no moon, and the obscure world seemed almost formless. Nevertheless, Dar limped into the dark, making her way as much by feel as by sight.

  She entered one of the ruined huts and discovered it filled with weeds. Any trace of the people who had once lived there was hidden by the gloom. As she turned to leave, someone grabbed the skirt of her shift. “Can’t sleep?” asked a man.

  Dar recognized his voice. “Murdant Teeg?”