Geva’s stomach plummeted, her thoughts suddenly crumpling, screeching with the memories of some of his last words toward her.You shall plan to dawdle and linger, saying tearful farewells, until they all descend upon me…
So she snapped upwards, backwards, away, waving shakily toward her audience, and fixing what felt like a genuine smile to her mouth. “I know you’ll have so much fun with Rathgarr,” she said, and it sounded truthful, it did. “I’m so grateful to have gotten to spend so much time with you all. I’ll miss you so much, and I’ll never forget you. Thank you.”
And with that, she spun around, and rushed unseeing up the corridor, away, away. Not stopping, or thinking, or breathing, just going, leaving, permanently, forever…
When something — touched her. Making her flinch and flare and flash around, her body shivering all over, because she knew that touch, she longed for that touch, she was on the verge of weeping at that touch, warm and heady and solid against her skin.
Him. Rathgarr. Here. But even as she turned her face up toward it, toward him, she was wincing back, amidst the grief, the unease, the fear. She needed to leave. At once. Permanently…
And Rathgarr’s hard, glinting eyes were saying it, shouting it, and Geva was cringing further away, whipping her head back and forth. “I’m — going,” she gritted out. “I’m not trying to linger and dawdle, and draw out — farewells. I’m going. I am.”
But suddenly a strong, familiar warmth circled around her wrist, drawing out her hand. And then something sank into her fingers, heavy and final and firm. A bag. Coins.
“Your payment,” said Rathgarr’s gruff, curt voice. “As promised.”
And blinking down toward it, Geva wanted to weep, to scream, to hurl it straight back in his face. To holler that she didn’t want his payment, she’d have done it all without a single damned coin —
But this was the agreement. This was the terms. This was the only way Rathgarr might someday accept that she hadn’t been using him, hadn’t had an ulterior motive, hadn’t had any designs on the rest of his hoard. She’d done her job, he’d paid her, and that was all.
“Th-thank you,” she said, and she even met his eyes, drinking up the sight of his familiar face, one last time. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
And before she could break down any further, or perhaps begin begging, she clutched her payment tightly in her fingers, and left.
47
Geva followed Killik out of Orc Mountain as quickly and quietly as she could, her head down, her hands gripped to her satchel. Leaving. At once. Permanently.
And gods, she’d never imagined it would hurt so much. That she would so fervently want to run back to Rathgarr, and clutch at him, and beg him to listen, to understand. To make him see that she hadn’t cared about his gold, she’d cared about him. About his kin. His home.
But she just kept walking, leaving, one foot in front of the other, until Killik led her out into the bright afternoon sun. To where — she reeled back, her hand over her squinting eyes — the orclings were waiting? Her students?
And wait, it wasn’t all of them — not the three smallest Ka-esh — but yes, there was Timo and Trygve and Sune, and Hauk and Hagen, and Bjorn, and Bram and Njal and Tyr. And behind them stood a frowning Ulfarr, and Varinn and Thrain, and Kalfr, and even Abjorn, all of them wearing cloaks and boots, with large packs and bags slung onto their backs.
“What — what is this?” Geva asked, through her closed-off throat. “You’re not all — coming?”
“We are coming on a scenting and scouting adventure!” replied Timo, with a broad, cheerful grin. “As part of our schooling. We shall follow the trail you left coming here, and thus find our way back to where you wish to go!”
Oh. Geva blinked, and then felt herself slowly smiling, because it did sound like a delightful adventure for them, and an excellent learning experience — and now she’d be able to spend a few more days with them, too. “That’s such a lovely idea,” she said thickly. “As long as you’re sure you’ll all be safe? And your caretakers have approved this? For such a long trip?”
“Ach, the younger ones shall only come part of this way, and then their fathers shall meet us and fetch them,” replied Killik smoothly. “And we shall take great care to scent for humans, and stay hidden whenever they are near. The Grisk shall be a great help in this. And the Bautul will lead us in hunting and food-finding, also.”
He’d jerked his head toward Kalfr, Varinn, and Thrain, who were all smiling back toward Geva. “Thus, we shall blend learning from three clans at once,” said Kalfr. “This seemed like a plan that should please you.”
“And do not forget sparring practice!” interjected Abjorn, with a grin. “And mayhap even a few Ash-Kai tales as we travel, too.”
He’d winked at Geva at that, suggesting thatshecould tell the Ash-Kai tales — and she felt her eyes prickling again, her smile shaky but sincere. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, and she meant it. “Thank you.”
And as they set off, following the main road away from the mountain, Geva felt her heaviness lightening, just a little. She didn’t need to say goodbye forever, just yet. And instead of the long, lonely, miserable journey she’d been expecting, she’d now be able to spend it with these lovely, laughing orclings, learning and exploring alongside them.
“Was this your idea?” she asked under her breath toward Killik, who’d fallen into step beside her, with Ulfarr just behind. “If so, thank you. Truly.”
But Killik replied with his typical careless wave, and a casual shrug. “It is good learning for them,” he said, nodding toward the gaggle of eagerly chattering orclings ahead. “Also” — he gave a satisfied smile — “it grants me great joy to think of how vexed your mate shall be, by this.”
Geva’s stomach flipped, and she couldn’t help shaking her head, angling Killik a dubious look. “He’s not my mate,” she said thinly. “And I can’t imagine he’ll be very vexed, either. Not now that he has the fortune he always wanted.”
Her voice had gone flat and bitter, and she was distantly surprised to hear Killik’s contemptuous-sounding laugh. “You think wrong, Ash-Kai,” he said. “You ken all this gold shall ride his prick, or comb his fancy hair, or keep his bed warm at nights? No. He found a good, clever, hungry mate to please him, and he wasted this for his fool Ash-Kai greed. Mark me, woman, he shall be vexed.”
His voice had gone smug and scathing by the end, his smile decidedly complacent. “I should never waste a good woman thus,” he continued. “Nor should you, Ulfarr, ach?”
