“You and the baby both seem to be doing very well,” she said, once she’d finally finished. “Do you have any other questions?”
Rosa did, unsurprisingly, and soon Gwyn found herself caught in another intensive discussion, much of it focusing on the book Rosa had mentioned. Which, it turned out, was an ancient midwifery manual, written by an orc healer an entire century before.
“Yes, of course I’d be happy to read it,” Gwyn said, after she’d washed up in a nearby basin, and Rosa had thrust a neat, new-looking copy of the book into her hands. “There are so few informed resources on orc pregnancies, especially from an orc perspective, so I’m sure it will be invaluable. The only thing is” — she carefully flipped through the book’s clean, crisp pages — “I can’t be sure to keep it dry in the garden. Is there somewhere else I could safely read it?”
Rosa was again beaming at Gwyn with marked approval, as though she’d passed some sort of secret test. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Have Joarr bring you to the library tomorrow afternoon, and we can read and discuss it together. And I’d love to have a follow-up exam too, if you don’t mind? Perhaps once I’ve better researched these pain management options you’ve suggested? In a few days, maybe, or next week?”
Gwyn had been smiling back — Rosa’s enthusiasm was contagious, somehow — but then she felt her smile falter, her eyes glancing uncertainly over her shoulder toward Joarr. Tomorrow? A few days? Nextweek?
Joarr had slipped slightly away from the general hubbub, in favour of leaning casually against the nearest wall, and observing the proceedings in silence. But now he strode forward again, shrugging, and gave Rosa a cool, careless smile.
“Ach, I shall bring her on the morrow,” he said lightly. “Now come, woman, ach?”
There was another enthusiastic round of goodbyes as Joarr led Gwyn toward the door, and back out into the corridor. Back, too, into a rising, ringing silence, which suddenly felt both very welcome, and oddly, uncomfortably oppressive.CouldGwyn return here next week, somehow? Would she?
And perhaps more importantly, did Joarrwanther to?
“Next, I take you to the Grisk,” Joarr said, as the floor began to angle upwards again. “They are beside and above Ka-esh, to the north. They mayhap speak as oft as the Ka-esh, but no with so many questions, ach?”
It was a hint of a joke, or even a pinecone — but Gwyn somehow couldn’t seem to meet it, or even manage a look toward him. Because maybe… maybe hehadbeen telling the truth, this time. Shewasneeded here. Wasn’t she? And what did that mean, and what in the gods’ names was she supposed to do next?
That uncertainty wasn’t helped by her next consultation, this one with a lovely auburn-haired woman named Ella, who was remarkably outfitted in a variety of jewels and scanty furs, and also bore several sets of fresh-lookingteeth-markson her neck. And who seemed entirely unconcerned by these facts, and instead smiled at her hulking, similarly attired orc with surprising affection, and spoke with frank eagerness about their shared desire to have a hale, healthy son.
“And it’s justsolovely to have another woman on hand to manage these things,” Ella said warmly to Gwyn, once she’d finished her physical exam. “It’s difficult for Natt to handle other orcs touching me — they leave such a strong scent behind, and Grisk orcs are especially sensitive about that. But another woman isn’t nearly such an issue, right, Natt?”
She was smiling over at her orc, again with visible, almost tangible fondness, and the Natt orc’s smile back toward her was just as warm, and surely relieved, too. “Ach, this is truth,” he said. “I thank you, my sweet mate, for honouring me thus. And” — his eyes flicked toward Gwyn — “I thank you, Gwyn of Clan Bautul, for coming to us with this gift. I hope, mayhap, you shall stay here among us, and help to birth our son?”
His eyes felt oddly piercing on Gwyn’s, even as he pulled Ella close, drawing her into the circle of his powerful arms. And for an instant, Gwyn could only seem to look back, while her heart thumped erratically in her chest.
“I’m sorry, but I’m — not sure, about staying,” she said, hoarse. “But I’m committed to doing everything I can to help. No matter what.”
The words felt painfully true, escaping out her mouth, and Natt gave her an inscrutable nod, before bending his head back into Ella’s neck. Leaving Gwyn to blink uncertainly toward them, before stammering a goodbye, and turning for the door.
Joarr had been waiting out in the corridor this time, and upon seeing Gwyn he pushed off the stone wall, and fell into step beside her. Glancing sideways toward her with unreadable eyes, but not speaking, even as his hand slipped to its familiar place on her back.
“Where to now?” Gwyn finally asked into the silence. “Somewhere I could wash up, maybe? Or eat something?”
Much to her relief, Joarr instantly nodded. And after guiding her past many more strange orcs and doors — she was becoming rather inured to it all by now — he led her first down to the same latrine she’d used last time, and then to an actualkitchen. It was surprisingly well-outfitted, with a large stove, a roaring fire, and multiple tools and workspaces. And the two orcs working inside both greeted Joarr with warm-sounding black-tongue, and seemed to grant him leave to do whatever he wished.
“Our cooks make good supper for whole mountain each day,” Joarr explained to Gwyn, as he led her toward a nearby pantry, where he began sniffing at barrels. “But no always use enough mushrooms, ach?”
With that, he triumphantly yanked a piece of salt pork out of a barrel, and next rummaged around for a few sprigs of thyme, and indeed, a surprising variety of fresh mushrooms. And then, while Gwyn watched with increasing bemusement, he chopped it all up with a few deft strokes of an alarmingly large knife, and tossed it into a pan over the fire.
“How did you learn to cook?” Gwyn asked him, once she was standing close beside him, and the truly mouthwatering smell was unfurling under her nose. “You said you were a ChiefScout, right?”
Joarr shrugged, tossing the contents of his pan with a quick flick of his wrist. “I walk with the earth,” he said, “and learn its ways. This means I no only grow green things, but I learn their use, ach? I watch, and see how they work. What theyare.”
Oh. Gwyn eyed him for a too-long moment, her brain catching oddly on the sight of him flipping the pan again, the lean muscles flexing in his forearm. “And you do it with people, too,” she said, not quite a question. “And maybe that’s part of why you’re also a scout.”
He inclined his head, his hand raising the pan toward her in a movement that meant,Yes, just so. And for an instant, standing here in Orc Mountain’s kitchen, while this mystifying orc casually cooked her a delicious-smelling lunch, Gwyn felt something skip in her chest, circling around her ribs. Something that made her want to step nearer, to draw him against her, try to fight back the tightness gnawing at her throat…
“Here,” Joarr said, as he produced an actual fork from somewhere, and thrust it toward her. “Eat.”
He’d already pierced a piece of fried meat with his claw, and then popped it into his mouth, raising an eyebrow at her as he chewed. So Gwyn accordingly obliged, spearing a tender-looking mushroom with her fork, and taking a careful bite.
“Gods, that’s good,” she gasped, without at all meaning to — but Joarr’s flash of a grin fired pure warmth into her belly, and he picked up another mushroom, and tossed it into his mouth.
“Ach, it is,” he said lightly. “You like mushrooms, ach?”
