“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.
There were three orcs in the band, all with weapons ready. Two had broadswords. The third and largest one carried an ax. Its razor-sharp head was wider than Dar’s neck.
“No washavokis here!” bellowed the ax bearer.
Kovok-mah started to rise, his hand reaching for his sword hilt.
“Zetat!” said Dar. Sit!
Kovok-mah obeyed, surprising the other orcs and causing them to turn their attention to Dar. She continued speaking in Orcish. “Two mothers sit here. This is good place for us.”
“No washavokis,” repeated the orc, although with less self-confidence.
“We serve food, and Muth la is honored,” replied Dar in the orcs’ language. “If you do not believe we are mothers, kill us. Kill all washavoki mothers. Then leave Muth la’s Embrace to eat with soldiers, for you will be like them.”
The orc raised his ax, but Dar didn’t flinch. “Kill little mother first,” she said. “She does not understand your speech. She trusts urkzimmuthi. Surprise her with quick blow.”
The orc hesitated before lowering his ax. He gazed at Kovok-mah. “What am I hearing?” he asked.
“Wisdom,” replied Kovok-mah.
“Why are these two here?” asked another guard.
“They share my shelter,” said Kovok-mah.
“You sleep with washavokis?” asked the ax wielder. “That is very strange.”
“We are not like washavokis,” said Dar.
Twea grabbed Kovok-mah’s hand. “What’s happening?” she asked.
Kovok-mah didn’t answer. Instead, he addressed the guards in Orcish so Twea couldn’t understand. “Little mother wishes to know her fate. Should I tell her she will die?”
“I cannot decide this,” said the orc with the ax. He turned to his companions. “Come,” he said.
When the guards left, Dar asked, “What will happen?”
“I think he will bring Wise Sons to speak with you.”
“What should I do?” asked Dar.
“Show your wisdom.”
A short while later, the guards returned leading a group of five orcs who wore short capes. Unlike men, the urkzimmuthi didn’t ornament their weapons or armor as a sign of authority. Nevertheless, Dar sensed that these orcs were particularly distinguished, and the capes marked them as wise. The foremost had a mane that was shot with gray. He stepped forward and spoke. “I hear there is washavoki that speaks like mother.”
“I am mother,” said Dar, remaining seated, “so I speak like one.”
“What is your name?”
“This camp is your home,” replied Dar. “It is more proper for you to speak your name first.”
The grizzle-headed orc looked surprised. “How can washavoki know this?”
“Think,” said Dar, “and you will know answer.”
The orc curled back his lips. “I am Nagtha-yat.”
“I am Dargu.”
“It is good name for you.”
Dar curled her lips, displaying her blackened teeth. “So I have been told.”
“Why do you wish to stay within Muth la’s Embrace?” asked Nagtha-yat.
“Here, I feel close to Muth la,” said Dar.
“Do you not miss your own kind?”
“Thwa,” said Dar. “They have little sense.”
Nagtha-yat grinned. “That is good answer.” He turned his gaze on Kovok-mah, who responded with a seated bow. “Do you not mind their stink?”
“They are clean,” Kovok-mah replied, “and smell not of fear.”
Nagtha-yat bent over Dar and sniffed. “Yet why would you wish these two in your shelter?”
“To honor Muth la,” said Kovok-mah.
“It is hard for sons to know Muth la’s will,” said Nagtha-yat.
“That is why they should listen to mothers,” said Dar.
Nagtha-yat turned and spoke to the others who had accompanied him. “There is wisdom in what this mother says.”
When Nagtha-yat said “mother,” Dar knew no harm would come to Twea or her.
Twenty-seven
There were two communities in the base camp, human and orcish, and news of Dar spread quickly in each. The orcs came to treat Dar as a curiosity—a hybrid that was part mother and part washavoki. Some saw mostly the washavoki in her, while others accepted her as a mother. A few resented what they felt was her presumption. Among those, there were some whose resentment became hatred, but even they deferred to the Wise Sons who had permitted Dar and Twea to sleep within Muth la’s Embrace.
Among the humans, Dar was notorious. Rumors besmirched her as unnatural—most likely a pervert and certainly a traitor to her kind. Though Dar was ostracized, she was too interesting to ignore entirely. The salacious stories and the fact that an orc had killed for her made Dar seem exotic. While other women tupped soldiers for extra rations, she was known as “the orc wench.” The speculation as to what took place within Kovok-mah’s shelter was as endless as it was fanciful. Dar was aware of the talk that swirled about her, but tried her best to ignore it.
Dar’s reputation had some advantages. Everyone knew who she was. If the soldiers spoke ill of her, they also kept their hands to themselves. She intimidated some, and received grudging respect from others. Even Murdant Kol left her alone.
The other shieldrons in Dar’s regiment entered camp over the next few days. Neena maligned Dar to the arriving women, and Murdant Kol made sure that anyone who was civil to Dar was treated harshly. Thus
, Dar remained a pariah. Even Memni avoided her, and Dar never learned how her former friend had lost her front teeth.
After the regiment regrouped, routine set in. For the women, there was wood to be gathered, water to be carried, and porridge to be cooked, but little else to do. The men, who didn’t drill like the cavalry and foot soldiers, mostly lay about. Many of the regiment’s women spent the day with them, leaving those without lovers to do the bulk of the work.
The arrival of the Queen’s Man in camp brought a change to Dar’s routine. When he rode in with the last orc regiment, word went out that he would inspect his troops. The news worked a dramatic change on the murdants, who acquired a sudden zeal for discipline. For the first time since Dar joined the regiment, its men tried to put on a military appearance. Weapons were sharpened, and those men who had armor polished the rust from it. The women were ordered to clean up the regimental area and take down all the tents and erect them in a more orderly fashion. The orcs, however, were exempted from these preparations. In fact, they were oblivious of them.
At sunrise on the morning of the inspection, the officers made a rare appearance. They had all the soldiers line up in orderly ranks. The women lined up also. Then everyone waited for the Queen’s Man to appear. He did so at mid morning, riding slowly on horseback, accompanied by Murdant Kol, who was also mounted. It was the first time Dar had ever seen the general. What struck her about him was how similar he was to his high murdant. The Queen’s Man was heavier than Kol and darker, but both men had an air of seasoned authority. Dar saw it in their stern features and the way the soldiers responded. The general and the murdant were accustomed to obedience and expected nothing less. Dar was relieved when they passed by, and she was not alone in that feeling.
Murdant Kol’s groom arrived with the Queen’s Man, and afterward Dar was relieved of caring for Thunder. She missed the job. Kol was right—she had a feel for horses, which blossomed while she cared for his stallion. Dar discovered that she understood the animals. She liked them and felt at ease around them. Compared with humans, they seemed innocent and guileless. In that way, they reminded her of orcs, for while a horse might trample a person, it would go about it honestly.
Whenever possible, Dar lingered near the stables to be close to horses. She also had another reason—it was safer there, for cavalry and infantry camped nearby. When Dar encountered these units, she realized that the men who served with orcs were truly the army’s dregs. The foot soldiers and cavalry troops were superior in every way. They maintained their weapons and armor. They drilled rather than lazed about. They were fitter, more disciplined, and often less crude.
One morning, as Dar carried water through the infantry’s camp, she heard rapid hoofbeats and then a horse’s frightened cry. She turned in its direction and spied the riderless animal rear up. The large black horse was within a cluster of panicked foot soldiers. When Dar saw weapons being drawn, she dropped her bucket and rushed toward the animal. She found it surrounded by frightened men who were only making matters worse. Clearly, those who were waving pikes and swords had no idea how to calm a horse.
Dar stepped into the circle. “Get back,” she yelled. “Put down your weapons.” Then she faced the rearing horse, looking it in the eye and holding out her hands, palms upward. With the same soft, calm voice she used when Thunder was edgy, she spoke to the frightened animal. Soon, her soothing words had their effect. The horse stopped rearing. Without taking her eyes off it, Dar told the men to move farther away.
As the men stepped back, Dar slowly advanced, speaking softly, until she was close enough to gently touch the animal. The horse grew calmer as she stroked him. “It’s frightening to be surrounded by fools,” she said, “but you’re all right.”
Dar heard someone running and shouting “Skymere!” The horse turned its head in the direction of the voice. Dar followed the animal’s gaze and saw a man dressed in a doublet of blue and scarlet. He was holding a bridle. “Is this your horse?” she asked.
“Aye,” said the man. “You have an uncommon way with him, it seems. I thank you for your aid.”
“I didn’t want to see him hurt,” said Dar. She stared at the man’s long red hair with frank curiosity.
The man caught her look and smiled. “Have you na seen a Southerner before?”
Before Dar could answer, a second man, dressed like the first, ran up. “Sevren, is Skymere safe? That stupid oaf…”
“This lady has rescued him, Valamar,” said Sevren. He bowed toward Dar. “Whom am I to thank?”
“I’m Dar.”
“The orc wench,” added a soldier with a laugh.
“Orc wench?” said Sevren.
“She sleeps with an orc!” shouted another soldier.
Sevren grinned. “Small wonder you’re na afraid of horses.”
Dar grinned back, revealing her black teeth. “Or men,” she said. Without a further word, she left to retrieve her water bucket.
Sevren watched her go with an intrigued expression on his face. When Valamar noticed it, he laughed. “Best leave before you get in trouble.”
“Trouble?” said Sevren.
“I’ve seen that look before. You lack sense when it comes to women.”
“I’m just curious.”
“The way you were curious about Cynda?” asked Valamar.
“You must admit, she had pluck,” said Sevren.
“Enough to get her hanged.”
“Cynda was never boring. I doubt Dar is either.”
“Then you are interested,” said Valamar.
“A mite.”
“I’d think those teeth would kill any interest. They’re disgusting.”
“In Luvein, ladies blacken their teeth. It’s a mark of refinement.”
“Well, you’re far from Luvein,” said Valamar. “There’s nothing refined about a branded woman. They’re all whores.”
“I do na think she is,” said Sevren.
“How you can tell? And what about the orc? She’s called the orc wench for a reason.”
Sevren grinned. “That orc might present a problem.”
“Might?”
“If the story were true.”
“And you aim to find out,” said Valamar.
“Aye, I do.”
Dar put little significance upon her meeting with Sevren until she learned that his doublet marked him as a King’s Guard. Ordinary soldiers didn’t wear uniforms, but the king’s special troop had a distinctive livery. The appearance of men in blue and scarlet always preceded the king’s arrival. By eavesdropping, Dar learned that they had just entered camp. By afternoon, the royal compound had been erected on a choice spot close to the river. To Dar, the large scarlet-and-blue tents seemed like cloth manor houses, for she had never seen anything so beautiful or finely made. She was enchanted by them.
Since toting water from the river provided an opportunity to pass close to the royal compound, Dar took it upon herself to keep the water barrels full. She was slowly walking by the colorful tents, laden with two full buckets, when a horseman rode out. She remembered his red hair, but not his name. When he drew near, he slowed his horse to a slow walk. “Lady Dar,” he said.
Dar turned her gaze away, and picked up her pace.
Sevren followed her. “Milady, why will you na speak?”
Without looking up, Dar replied, “I know when I’m being mocked.”
“I did na mean to. I wanted to show my regard.”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
“Aye, they say you sleep with an orc.”
“They speak true,” said Dar, wishing the man would go away.
Sevren persisted in following her. “Since my arrival, I’ve heard many tales about you.”
“Believe what you want.”
“I’ll believe anything you tell me.”
“Then you’ll believe nothing,” said Dar. She quickly turned and darted though a gap between two wagons. There was a crowd of soldiers on the other side, and Dar made her wa
y into the mass of men. Sevren, blocked by the wagons, could only watch her flee.
The water Dar carried ended up, warmed and scented with herbs, in the Queen’s Man’s bath. General Tarkum disliked bathing, but the chore was necessary when dealing with orcs. He was the only man, other than the king, who could enter the orcs’ circle and expect to return alive; yet even he took care to scrub away his scent. Tarkum knew more about orcs than any man in the army. He knew they could smell fear. Tarkum doubted they could detect his contempt, though he took no chances. Besides, bathing was courteous, and the piss eyes liked a show of manners.
Tarkum had dressed in a clean linen tunic when Murdant Kol brought in his armor. Unlike other generals’, the Queen’s Man’s equipment lacked ornamentation and resembled that of an orc in its utilitarian simplicity. The armor’s steel plates, however, had been polished and oiled until they gleamed like silver. Kol had two women spend an entire day doing it, and Tarkum approved of his thoroughness. He often wished his tolums were as useful.
Kol laid the armor on the cot and stood by to help put it on. Having served with the Queen’s Man since the latter was a sustolum, he was one of the few men unintimidated by his presence. There was mutual respect between the two hardened soldiers, and they dropped the formalities of rank when they were alone.
“Will you be dining with the piss eyes tonight or just paying your respects?” asked Kol.
“I’ll be eating with them,” replied Tarkum. “There’s no avoiding it. It’s the Night of the Eye.”
“Then I’ll have proper food and drink waiting for you,” said Kol.
“That would be good,” said Tarkum. “Especially the drink.”
“Would this evening be a good time to bring up that matter I mentioned,” asked Kol.
“That business of the girl?”
“Yes,” said Murdant Kol. “The one called Dar.”
Tarkum frowned. “I’ve been thinking about her. You said she’s sleeping with a piss eye. You think she’s tupping him?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property Page 16