Rosa was desperately fighting to be brave, clutching to John with all her strength — but suddenly, somethingtouchedher. Brushing against her loose long hair, almost as thoughcarding through it, and it wasn’t John, and Rosa was quivering all over, and biting back a scream —
John’s body instantly shifted beneath her, tossing her over to his other side, well away from whatever that touch had been — and then Rosa felt a hard coiled flare of his muscle, and an unfamiliar, replying yelp of pain. And then it was John’s voice speaking in the black-tongue, the words snapping out cold and angry, vibrating deep and powerful through his chest.
The hubbub all around seemed to quiet somewhat, and then the voice spoke again, still in the black-tongue, but this time sounding almost contrite. Earning another curt reply from John, and then Rosa could feel his big body moving again, shoving its way through the crowd.
She couldn’t seem to stop trembling, even as they finally left the chaos behind, the voices fading into a distant hum. And beneath her John’s chest had sharply exhaled, and here was the feeling of his other hand, sliding firm and reassuring up and down her back.
“Fear not, little woman,” his clipped voice said. “My foolish brother did not seek to take you, or frighten you. He has only never before seen a human bearing gold upon its head, as you do.”
Oh. Rosa’s shivers ebbed slightly, and that hand kept stroking against her, speaking silently of reassurance, safety. “I have told them to leave us be, until morning,” he said. “But I yet wish you to meet my kin-brothers this night — one of them studies as a medic — and our mountain’s chief healer. I wish to learn where we stand with your womb, and my seed.”
Rosa’s body twitched against him — how had she nearly forgotten about that, when it was the entire reason she’d come here — and she mutely nodded, from where her head had somehow become buried in his warm, sweet-smelling neck.
John’s hand gave a brief, approving clench on her arse, and he kept walking through the blackness, his steady steps seeming to angle ever downward. Turning left and then right and left again, taking her deep into some kind of unknowable maze, and it was only his hand’s soothing strokes against her back that kept her silent, sane, breathing. She was in Orc Mountain. Dear gods, she wasin Orc Mountain.
When John’s steps finally slowed, after turning yet another corner, Rosa blinked up, and found — light. Not much, not bright, just a single lit candle — but after all the close dense blackness, it was utterly, shockingly wonderful.
And the light—Rosa blinked all around with sudden curiosity—was illuminating a room. An honest-to-gods actualroom, with smooth grey stone walls, and a high, flat ceiling, rounding gently at the corners. There were no windows, of course, but the room was cool and clean and dry, with no mold or muck or dripping water to be seen.
And most intriguing of all, along several of the walls, the stone had been cut out to form what looked like long built-inworkbenches. These were neatly stocked with a variety of mismatched opaque bottles, as well as a collection of shiny steel implements. There were several more stone tables rising from the floor in the middle of the room, and Rosa belatedly realized that she was looking at some kind of medical clinic. InOrc Mountain.
“Howfascinating,” she murmured, and when she wriggled downwards, John didn’t resist, and carefully set her on the stone floor. Giving permission, she somehow knew, so she gladly took it, and trotted to the nearest workbench, tracing a careful hand against the smooth surface.
“This is incredible,” she said, without at all meaning to, over her shoulder. “It’s volcanic rock, isn’t it? How in the gods’ names did you carve it so smoothly, even against the grain of the stone? These walls and tables areperfect.”
There was an odd flicker in John’s eyes, but he followed her over to the bench. “Our fathers of ages long past learnt the secrets of this. They smelted an alloy strong enough to both cut it, and abrade it.”
Rosa didn’t miss the twinge of regret in his voice, and glanced back toward him. “And you don’t still know the process for this now?”
“No,” he replied, curt, his eyes narrowing. “We orcs have not oft had time or means to keep such truths safe for our sons. It is only sheer foolish luck that we even yetlive.”
Oh. Rosa’s fingers kept sliding against the velvety stone, and she opened her mouth to answer — when behind them, there was a sudden flare of movement, of more rough, unfamiliar voices. Of moreorcs.
Rosa whirled around, her body twitching almost instinctively toward John’s solid bulk, while her wide, darting eyes took in the sight before them. Three huge, powerful, grey-skinned orcs, two of them even larger than John, and one with a particularly scarred, hideous face.
They were all staring straight at Rosa, all with those glittering, pure black eyes, and she backed her trembly body closer against John, into the distant, tilting relief of his claws brushing against her back. He’d said he would keep her safe. He’d said he would help her. Hadn’t he?
There was another moment’s pounding stillness, while those three sets of orc eyes kept staring, and John’s hand clenched against Rosa’s back — until out of nowhere, one of themlaughed. One of the taller ones, his face harsh and square but unmarked, except for a single thin scar beneath his eye.
“Finally went there, did you, brother?” he said, in common-tongue, his deep voice bearing an identical accent to John’s. “Went well, looks like?”
John snapped something back in black-tongue, the words coming out gruff and tangled from his throat. But whatever it was, the orcs didn’t quite seem to approve, because the big ugly one frowned, the smaller one looked pained, and the first one — the tall scar-eyed one — only laughed again, though it sounded more brittle than before.
John barked another reply, louder this time, complete with a distinctive, disapproving jab of his finger toward Rosa’s flat waist. Surging a mortified, cringing heat to her face — he was clearly saying how small, how skinny, how unsuitable she was — and she felt herself shrink up even smaller, her arms crossing her chest, as if to protect herself from these orcs’ mockery.
But to her vague surprise, they didn’t look mocking. Only almost uneasy, their eyes glancing between her and John, until finally one of them — the big ugly one — stalked forward, and, to Rosa’s genuine astonishment, gave her a curt little bow, his hand resting over his heart, his long black braid falling over his broad shoulder.
“Forgive our rudeness, woman,” he said, in perfect common-tongue, lacking any trace of an accent whatsoever. “And welcome to our home. I’m Efterar of Clan Ash-Kai, this mountain’s Chief Healer. And this is Salvi” — he nodded at the tall scar-eyed orc, and then the smaller one — “and Tristan. Both from Clan Ka-esh, like your John, here.”
Clan Ka-esh.YourJohn. Rosa darted a brief look up at John’s forbidding eyes — he had called himself Ka-esh, back at the library, hadn’t he? — and then drew in a deep, fortifying breath, and attempted a smile at the orc’s scarred face.
“Th-thank you,” she said. “I’m Rosa Rolfe. From Dusbury.”
The orc — Efterar — inclined his head, the very image of good manners, but for a swift, disapproving glance toward John beside her. “John tells us,” he continued, “that you two have mated, but that neither of you wish for a son from this. Is this true, woman?”
Rosa felt herself flinch, her gaze following Efterar’s up toward John’s taut, narrow-eyed face. “Yes,” she managed, her mouth dry. “That’s true. I can’t risk losing my job, and he doesn’t want to be bound to a woman like me. And, I’m too small to survive it, anyway.”
And why she was so freely speaking of such things to this hideous strange orc, she couldn’t possibly fathom — but there was only a flicker of understanding, or even sympathy, across Efterar’s watching black eyes. “Well, let’s see about this, why don’t we,” he said, his voice conspicuously calm, reasonable. “Would you mind if I examine you, just to confirm a few things?”
