But there was no time to ask, because once Baldr had turned away, there were more orcs standing behind him, waiting. The first of these was the huge Bautul orc Olarr, surveying Natt with skeptical eyes — but came a step closer, squared his huge shoulders, and met Natt’s gaze.
“Before all my clan,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, “I wish to speak of my grief for the price our young Speaker paid, to gain safety among my kin. I offer you my pledge to help right this wrong.”
Ella could feel Natt’s disbelief beside her, his eyes blinking, his body gone very still. “I accept your pledge, Olarr the Fearsome, of Clan Bautul,” he said finally. “And I thank you, for speaking this truth.”
Olarr bowed his shaggy head, and then stepped away, ceding his place to the next orc in the line. And this one, to Ella’s vague surprise, was John. His handsome head tilting, his mouth pursed, and Ella gained the distinct impression that this was a fulfillment of his intellectual curiosity, more than anything else.
“Nattfarr,” he said, meeting his eyes, and again Ella could feel Natt’s magic lock and hold between them. “I wish you to ask a question of me. For what do I wish for most?”
This was also a trick question, without doubt, but Natt nodded, and brought a hand to John’s face, drawing him closer. “John of Clan Ka-esh, Last of the Ka, and rightful Priest of Orc Mountain,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate. “What do you most wish for?”
“I wish also,” came John’s reply, immediate, “for a son. And a clever mate, to help me raise him in the way of the Ka.”
His eyes blinked, several times, almost as though he’d been surprised by his own answer — but Natt only nodded, holding his gaze. “Ach, a wise wish,” he said gravely. “To gain this, mayhap you shall also finally hear my wish to place lamps in our mountain, to make our mates at home.”
John’s throat visibly swallowed, his clawed hands clenching at his sides, but his eyes were still fixed to Natt’s, caught. “But what if I spend this time, and these resources, on lamps,” he said, “and the women do not come. Or what if I spend this and the women come, and die” — his mouth spasmed — “because I did not spend enough on our learning, to keep them safe.”
His fists were visibly trembling, now, his eyes alarmingly wide on Natt’s face, and Natt gave a slow, watchful nod. “I know this fear also, my brother,” he said. “But we must be brave enough to yet seek a better way for our kin, and face our own pain and loss, when it comes.”
With that, Natt looked away, squeezing his eyes shut, breaking the spell. Leaving John standing there, blinking hard — and without another word, he spun around, and strode straight toward the door. While Natt watched him go, his eyes hinting at darkness, at something Ella couldn’t follow.
But there again wasn’t time to ask, because Natt’s attention had already shifted to the next group of orcs before him. His guard, all four of them, clustered close, waiting.
“What do you believe is our greatest threat,” was Varinn’s question, his earnest eyes trapped to Natt’s without the slightest hesitation. “What do you fear will be our downfall.”
Natt hesitated, and Ella fully expected him to say the men, the war, Alfred, coming heretomorrow— but he didn’t. “I fear we will fall to our lies,” he said finally. “I fear we will smile and laugh and play” — his hand waved broad to the room — “and pay no heed to our true grief and pain and loss, and to the ways these must be met, and learnt from. I fear we will not learn to face our truths, and that they shall then rise to devour us, unawares.”
Varinn nodded, drawing back in silence, and Ella felt herself nodding too. Thinking, disjointed, of how brilliant Natt had always been, how considering and thoughtful, even as he’d also been wild and carefree and laughing. And even this moment seemed to reflect that, as Thrak came up, and coolly demanded that Natt tell him the dirtiest joke he knew, to which Natt snapped something back in black-tongue, and all five orcs laughed.
“Ask me about the best fuck of my life,” was Thrain’s grinning question, to which Natt easily nodded, and gamely repeated the question toward him. But rather than freely answering, Thrain twitched and choked, his face suddenly drained of colour. And Ella could see his eyes straining and bulging, as if he sought to look away from Natt, but couldn’t.
“The best fuck of my life,” Thrain said, his voice a monotone, “was when Varinn and I drank too much old berry-juice, and got lost in the catacombs, and he fucked me until I screamed on the graves of our forefathers.”
Natt had abruptly broken the eye contact, leaving Thrain shaking his head and grimacing toward Varinn, whose face had gone deathly pale. While Thrak looked back and forth between them, the disbelief rising in his eyes. “You’re fucking serious?” he demanded. “When? Why’d you never say?”
But the distinctly ill look on Varinn’s face was clearly why he hadn’t said, and Thrain’s eyes were on Varinn too, his mouth still grimacing. “Sorry, brother,” he said, and Ella couldn’t tell which one he spoke to, or perhaps it was both. “I swore I wouldn’t tell. And then did all I could to hide the scent.”
But Varinn had already turned and stalked off, leaving Thrain to blink, and then rush off after him, with Thrak close behind. While beside Ella, Natt looked both pained and amused — at least until Dammarr walked up, his eyes glinting with a chilly, watching danger.
“Shall I have you ask me this same question, brother?” he asked coolly. “I ken you shall know my answer before I do.”
Natt’s whole form beside Ella had gone hard and guarded, his eyes settling angry and meaningful on Dammarr’s. “You must ask what you wish,” he said flatly. “But then, I must ask whether I wish to keep an orc such as this on my guard — or even keep calling him my brother — when he seeks to further harm a blameless, foolish woman who has donenaughtbut seek to please me, and honour me!”
Ella blinked, and there was suddenly an odd, prickling ice down her back. A blameless, foolish woman?Furtherharm?
But neither orc was looking at her, their eyes locked together, something Ella couldn’t at all follow passing between them. And when Dammarr spoke again, this time it was in black-tongue, and Natt hissed back in kind, before Dammarr abruptly turned, and strode away.
“What did you mean, Natt?” Ella heard herself ask, very quiet, to where he was still frowning at Dammarr’s retreating back. “About further harming me? And do you” — she drew in a shaky breath — “do you truly still think I’m foolish? Even after I’ve told you all my truth, and offered tostay?”
Natt turned to blink at her, almost as though he’d forgotten she was there — and he belatedly smiled, and gave a rapid shake of his head. “You ought to pay no heed to my angry words, lass,” he said. “I am the fool, when it comes to my brother, to allow him to stir my ire thus.”
He turned away then, smiling at the next orc before him, a Grisk whose name Ella knew, but couldn’t quite recall, in this moment. Because instead, her shouting brain was trapped on the memory, only seconds ago, of Natt holding Dammarr’s eyes, and saying those words.
He’d been speaking truth, to Dammarr, of her. And he’d called Ella foolish. He’d spoken of further harm.Further.
And as orc after orc walked up, asking Natt questions both banal and weighty, personal and impersonal, Ella made every effort to smile, and welcome each orc by name, and hear their truths with respect and kindness. But that memory kept swirling, screaming at her, and joining it now were other ones, ones she’d perhaps forgotten, until this moment.
I betray my own soul. He too often robs himself. At least we’ll finally getsomereward out of this whole farce.
