[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property

by Morgan Howell

  “Sir, a woman needs your help.”

  The tolum turned to the sustolum. “That’s why I hate this regiment—women.”

  “She’s with child, sir. She’s due any day.”

  “So?” said the tolum. “That happens when you spread your legs.”

  “She needs to ride in a wagon.”

  “She needs to ride in a wagon,” repeated the tolum in a high-pitched, mocking tone. He slammed his fist on the table. “Am I to be lectured by a whore?”

  Dar’s face colored. “I’m not a whore, sir.”

  “Perhaps not,” replied the tolum. “Real whores leave after they’ve been tupped.”

  “We don’t stay by choice,” said Dar.

  “Nor mine,” said the tolum. “It’s the piss eyes’ fault. If it were up to me, I’d dump the lot of you.”

  “We’re here because of the orcs?”

  “Only women may serve them. Their rule, not mine. Now, get out.”

  Dar remained put. “But Loral may die if she has to walk.”

  The tolum’s face flushed crimson, but his voice was cold. “I gave you an order.” He leaped up from his chair, seized Dar’s arm, and dragged her to the open door. “Teeg!” he bellowed.

  When the murdant came running, the officer shoved Dar toward him. “Murdant, flog this bitch for insubordination. Three stripes.”

  Teeg grinned. With a quick motion, he grabbed Dar’s arm and twisted it behind her back. “Well, birdie, ye have a knack for trouble.” He pulled upward on Dar’s arm until she winced. “Come quietly.”

  Teeg ordered a soldier to bring him rope and a whip, then marched Dar to a fence behind the barn. The soldier who brought these items was followed by men who were glad for a bit of entertainment. Teeg released Dar’s arm. “Will ye bare yer back, or need I tear yer shift?”

  Dar meekly removed her shift. Teeg turned to the soldier who brought the whip and rope. “Tie her wrists to the fence post.”

  The soldier stopped ogling Dar’s nearly naked body and bound her wrists. Then he held a loose end of the rope before her mouth. “Bite down on this,” he said. “It helps.”

  Dar clamped the rope in her teeth and waited. Frigid rain hit her bare back. Teeg waited until she was shivering from fright and cold before he let the whip fly. The studded thongs bit into Dar’s flesh, combining the shock of a blow with the pain of broken skin. Having tasted the lash, Dar found waiting for the second blow more agonizing than waiting for the first. Teeg, a master of torment, understood the terror of anticipation and delayed the second lash. When it finally fell, its mark crossed the first one. The third lash completed the bloody star on Dar’s back.

  “I do nice work,” said Teeg, “if I say so myself. Leave her there awhile, then have Taren untie her.”

  By the time Taren arrived, rivulets of bloody rainwater flowed down Dar’s back and legs, and she was shuddering from pain and cold. Dar couldn’t see the extent of her injuries, but she got a clue from Taren’s sickened expression. She untied Dar, picked up Dar’s shift, and led her to the kitchen. “I’ll wash your stripes,” she said. “You should leave them uncovered tonight.”

  “Thanks, Taren.”

  “Dar, what did you do?”

  “I asked the tolum if Loral could ride in a wagon.”

  “That was stupid.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Karg’s worse than Teeg.”

  “Not worse,” said Dar. “Teeg enjoyed doing this.”

  “I should poison them all,” said Taren.

  Twelve

  Dar lay awake most of the night, consumed by despair. What good will speaking Orcish do me? Words can’t protect me. She could think of nothing that could.

  When dawn approached, Taren gently touched her shoulder. “When men are flogged, they go bare-backed until the stripes heal. Since you cannot, wear this under your shift.” She held out one of the robes the women wore to serve the orcs. Its skirt had been torn away. “It’s clean, so perhaps your wounds won’t fester.”

  Dar dressed, wincing when the cloth touched her raw flesh. It was still raining, and she ate her cold porridge huddled with Taren by the fire. They let Loral sleep.

  Kari and Neena arrived from the barn, looking tired. “The men will be coming soon,” said Kari. “Take care, they’re all hungover.”

  “There’s a rumor we won’t march today,” said Neena.

  “If it keeps rainin’ and the vittles hold, Karg might stay put,” said Taren. “If so, Karm help us. Idle men make work for women.”

  Kari noticed Dar’s drawn face. “They said you were whipped.”

  “I was.”

  “Why?” asked Neena.

  “She stuck up for Loral,” said Taren, “and the bastards flogged her for it.”

  Loral woke at the mention of her name. “Is it time to get up?”

  “Rest until the men come,” said Taren.

  Loral sat up. “I’m fine. I really am. The pains are gone.”

  “I’m glad,” said Dar, although she had hoped Loral would give birth while they were sheltered.

  The men staggered in to eat. Their leisurely pace suggested the rumor was true and there would be no march that day. Teeg arrived last. Holding his bowl for Dar to fill, he looked satisfied. “How’s yer back?”

  Dar acted serene. “A night’s rest worked wonders.”

  Teeg searched Dar’s face for signs that he had broken her, but she was inscrutable. “If ye could rest, perhaps I went too easy.”

  “I learned my lesson.”

  “Aye,” said Teeg, wondering what lesson that was. He turned to Taren. “No march today, so the tolum wants proper food. Make chicken stew, roast veal, and bread.”

  “Bread!” said Taren. “None of these girls can bake bread.”

  “Tell it to the tolum, if ye think he’ll listen,” said Teeg. He grinned. “Ye could send Dar with the message.”

  Taren’s prediction of a hectic day proved true. The soldiers’ sole assistance was to fetch a calf and kill it. The women did everything else, from butchering the calf to catching the chickens. Every movement brought Dar pain that exhausted her. Taren noticed and retrieved a metal box from a wagon. “Dar,” she said, “I have a job for you.”

  “What?”

  “Since orcs don’t scare you, I thought you might take them these.” She opened the box. It contained black seeds that were the shape of dried peas, though slightly larger. “They’re called wash-something. Orcs fancy them in foul weather.”

  “What do I do?” asked Dar.

  “Just visit each one’s grass tent, say the words you do at supper, and give them some seeds—about five each.” Then she whispered, “Take your time doin’ it.”

  Dar flashed a thankful smile. She washed and changed in the smokehouse, where she discovered the robe beneath her shift was soaked with blood. When she was clean, Dar filled a small bag with seeds and went about her errand. She gave seeds to the orcs standing guard first, then headed for the orc encampment. It lay encircled by upright branches in the middle of a meadow. The orcs were inside their conical shelters. Dar approached the nearest one and said the required phrase. Hands parted the shelter’s reed wall and emerged to receive the seeds. After thanking Muth la, the orc closed the gap.

  At the apex of each shelter was a woven band that bound the reeds together. Each band was distinctive. The shelter that had a green and yellow band turned out to be Kovok-mah’s. After receiving his seeds, he said, “I smell blood.”

  “I was flogged last night.”

  “I do not understand ‘flogged.’”

  “Men hurt my back.”

  “Turn around,” said Kovok-mah. When Dar did, he saw spreading bloodstains on her wet robe. He sniffed the damp air. “Come back when you finish.”

  “Kam?” Why?

  “I smell bad things. You could get sick.”

  Dar finished handing out the seeds, then headed for Kovok-mah’s shelter. He made an opening as she approached. “Take off r
obe and come inside.”

  Dar hesitated.

  “Come. I know healing magic.”

  Dar’s fear of festering wounds overcame her apprehension. She whisked off the wet, bloody garment and crawled into the shelter.

  There was barely room for the two of them. Sitting cross-legged, Kovok-mah took up most of the floor space. His helmet and a few possessions occupied the rest. Dar found herself kneeling awkwardly on Kovok-mah’s lap, her face inches from his. “Bend down,” said Kovok-mah. “I must see your back.”

  Dar hunched crosswise in Kovok-mah’s lap. A cloak covered his legs, so it wasn’t an uncomfortable position. Kovok-mah gently felt the outlines of Dar’s lashes without ever touching the wounds themselves. Next, he leaned over and sniffed them. Then he opened a bag that had several compartments, each containing dried leaves, roots, or seeds. Kovok-mah took things from several different compartments and put them in his mouth. He chewed them awhile, then leaned over and spit on Dar’s wound.

  “What are you doing?” asked Dar with disgust.

  “Mmph,” replied Kovok-mah, placing a hand on Dar’s neck to hold her still.

  The place where Kovok-mah had spit burned and tingled at first, then became numb. Dar relaxed. Kovok-mah spit again. When every lash stroke had been covered with herb-laced saliva, Kovok-mah spit out the chewed materials and blew upon the wounds to dry them. The herbs affected Dar like drink, and she was warm despite being undressed. If Kovok-mah hadn’t spoken, she probably would have fallen asleep. “Why did they do this to you?”

  “I made the tolum angry.”

  “How?”

  “I wanted him to help a woman.”

  “And they hurt you for this?”

  “Hai.”

  “Urkwashavoki nuk tash,” muttered Kovok-mah.

  “What?”

  “Washavokis are cruel.”

  “Then why do you fight for them?” asked Dar.

  “This is our queen’s wisdom.”

  “The tolum said women are here for urkzimmuthi. Is that your queen’s wisdom, also?”

  “Hai.”

  “Why?”

  “I already told you. Food belongs to Muth la. Mothers should give it to us.”

  Her inhibitions dulled by the herbs, Dar spoke her feelings. “That’s why I was taken and branded? My life was ruined just so I could serve you food?”

  “Washavokis branded you.”

  Kovok-mah’s reply only increased Dar’s ire. “Because of you! I’m here because of you!”

  “You make no sense. Mothers always serve.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Washavokis understand nothing.”

  The calm Dar had felt only moments before was shattered. She felt abused and angry. She grabbed her wet robe and managed to slip it on. “I should go,” she said.

  “I also think this,” said Kovok-mah.

  In the evening, Dar returned to the orc encampment with Neena to serve. Though rain still fell, the orcs were seated outdoors. When Dar gave Kovok-mah his food, he didn’t acknowledge her beyond the usual formalities. After he finished eating, Zna-yat approached him. “Mother’s brother’s son, it’s good time to walk beneath trees.”

  Kovok-mah glanced at the grove beyond the meadow’s edge and understood his cousin wished to speak privately. “Hai,” he said. “It would be pleasant to walk.”

  The two orcs strolled off. Zna-yat waited until they were far from the keen ears of the others before he spoke. “I smelled strange thing—one washavoki with scent of healing magic. Others smelled it, too.”

  “I gave Weasel this magic.”

  “I thought so.”

  “I saw wisdom in it,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Most do not,” said Zna-yat. “You’re losing respect.”

  “If that’s so, then it’s so.”

  “That’s selfish answer. When time for killing comes, you must lead. Don’t let someone lesser do it.”

  “They would choose another?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Sons won’t follow someone they can’t understand. They think you’re acting foolish.”

  “And you, also?”

  “I can’t understand why you teach our speech to Weasel, or why you gave it healing magic.”

  “I don’t fully understand, myself,” said Kovok-mah. “Perhaps it’s because she’s different.”

  “She? You call it she now?”

  “You think that strange?”

  “Of course!” said Zna-yat. “I’ve never heard such talk. To call one animal ‘she.’ It’s reckless.”

  “How?”

  “It will destroy your authority. We need your leadership. For Muth la’s sake, avoid this Weasel. Washavokis don’t care for us; it’s foolish to care for them.”

  “She’s like favorite goat, nothing more.”

  “If your comrades were starving, would you spare that goat?”

  “Thwa,” said Kovok-mah.

  “You must think of your own kind first. Washavokis aren’t like us. They’re dangerous and unpredictable.”

  Kovok-mah thought of Weasel’s anger coming so quickly after he had healed her. “I see wisdom in what you say.”

  “Will you cease your strange behavior?” asked Zna-yat.

  “Hai.”

  Zna-yat smiled. “You’ve always put others before yourself, that is why you’re strong in their chests. I’m proud to be your kin.”

  “Such words warm my chest,” said Kovok-mah. “I’m glad you spoke to me.”

  Thirteen

  The following morning, Taren examined Dar’s back. She was amazed to find that the lashes had scabbed over and the skin surrounding them was no longer swollen. “This is Karm’s grace,” she said. “Many a girl’s died from flogging. You’ll have scars, though.”

  “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 o
rcs’ 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.”