Geva shot Killik a surprised but pleased smile, and soon found herself leading an intense — but unexpectedly respectful — discussion around orcling interests, sleeping patterns, and energy levels. And most importantly, the ages and number of anticipated students, from across all five clans. The number turned out to be lower than Geva had expected — about twelve to begin, if Tengil and Rakfi were included — but, Varinn explained, the numbers would likely increase once word began spreading further beyond the mountain.
“Many, many orcs still fear to bring their mates and young sons here,” he said, earning multiple nods of assent from around the table. “If we can prove ourselves well able to support and care for their young, this shall be a great help in drawing them home again.”
Geva was nodding too, her thoughts again on Kesst, on Rathgarr. On finding another way. And after another round of intense discussion, they’d roughed out a draft schedule, as well as a plan for the younger orclings — their caretakers would bring and supervise them, with the Bautul nursery offering support as needed. They’d also worked out a slate of possible guest tutors, including everyone currently at the table, as well as Geva’s recommendations of Sigarr and Kesst. It also turned out that Tristan was currently helping Rosa teach reading and writing to adult orcs, and he readily offered to assist with Geva’s daily instruction, as well.
“I ken I should struggle to keep excitable orclings in order,” he said in his soft voice, smiling shyly at Geva across the table. “But I am glad to help teach them to read and write, if this might be of use.”
“Of course you’ll be of use,” Rosa cut in, with a militant glint in her eye. “Tristan is quite possibly the most gifted and patient teacher in all of this mountain, isn’t he, Jule?”
Tristan visibly flushed at this, but Jule roundly agreed, and even Killik only shrugged, and shoved up from the table. “Tomorrow, then,” he said, reaching over to tap Rosa’s schedule with his claw. “Find a room, and we shall come.”
With that, he spun and stalked out, his long strides silent on the stone floor. Leaving the rest of them to blink at each other, until Jule rose up too, giving the table’s remaining occupants a swift, satisfied grin. “Thanks, all,” she said. “Now, how about that room, Geva? I wonder…”
She was tapping her chin, her eyes thoughtful, and then, perhaps, distinctly devious. And soon, she was eagerly ushering Geva up the corridor again, and then into… the sickroom. To where Efterar was intently working over an unfamiliar sleeping orc, while Kesst — who had been murmuring and rubbing Efterar’s back — was already glancing up, his tired eyes narrowing on the sight of Jule and Geva at the door.
“So it turns out that we need to find and prepare a schoolroom,” Jule announced toward Kesst, without preamble. “For tomorrow. And I have a few other commitments today, so I was hoping you could help Geva arrange it? She’s going to serve as our teacher for the next few weeks.”
Geva didn’t miss the faint flare of interest in Kesst’s tired eyes, followed by an unmistakable suspicion as he strode over toward them. “And you just couldn’t find anyone else to help her, hmmm?” he asked Jule, his brows raised. “What about Rath?”
At that, Geva’s chest tightened — whatwasRathgarr doing, anyway? — but Jule was already shrugging, and thoroughly dismissing Rathgarr with a careless flap of her hand. “Busy,” she said vaguely. “And don’t deny it, Kesst, you’re truly the best there is at choosing and outfitting rooms. Your room is perfect, isn’t it, Geva?”
She shot Geva a brief but meaningful look at that, and wait, was she saying —Kessthad chosen and prepared their room? With the natural light, the adjoining trove-room, the generously sized wardrobe and bed? The… cradle?
It took Geva an instant to recover herself, but she nodded, and flashed Kesst a warm, grateful smile. “Our roomisperfect,” she said. “All the small details were so thoughtful. I’d be so honoured if you’d be willing to help with the schoolroom, too.”
She could almost see Kesst softening, though it was accompanied by a piercing glance toward Jule. “We’ll need trading-credits to buy what we need from the storage-rooms, then,” he said archly. “And no complaints from you or Grim, if you don’t like what we choose.”
“Done,” Jule said, with a satisfied grin, as she spun toward the door. “Later, then!”
Kesst watched her go with his mouth pursed, and a half-amused, half-aggrieved look in his eyes. But then he sighed, and stalked back over to Efterar, briefly murmuring in his ear before waving Geva after him toward the door.
“Well, what are you looking for, then?” he asked, a little stiff. “How many students? And what will you be doing in it?”
So Geva explained as well as she could, telling him about the Orc Mountain Educational Congress, and the plans they’d developed so far. And to her vague surprise, Kesst seemed genuinely interested, especially in the idea of a more unconventional curriculum, tailored specifically toward the clans’ needs. “Those orclingsshouldbe learning art and music and medicine,” he said decisively. “And oral history, you said? Like tales?”
“Yes, exactly,” Geva said, smiling toward him. “And we were actually hoping that you might be willing to consider teaching a few sessions? Or perhaps serving as our principal advisor on the subject? Rathgarr says you’re a wonderful tale-teller, and that you used to seek them out all over. You must have an incredible collection to share.”
Kesst’s grey cheeks had slightly pinked, though his sideways glance at Geva was sharp, searching. “Rath told you that, did he?” he said, his voice far too casual. “What else has he said about me?”
Oh. And glancing toward him, toward that uncertainty in his eyes, there was once again that quiet, certain determination, settling in Geva’s chest. Another way.
“All kinds of things,” she replied. “He said you’re quick, and clever, and bright. That you used to know if he was upset or unhappy before even he did, and how you would always comfort him, and help him. How much he loved your tales, and how they used to come to life behind his eyes. How he’s never cared for anyone else so deeply. How he considered you his own son.”
Kesst was looking straight ahead now, his jaw very tight, and Geva drew in a breath, drew up more of Rathgarr’s words. “And how nervous and terrified he was, when you sent for him,” she added, quieter. “How much he feared for your safety, but how he couldn’t bear to refuse. How hehadto see you again. How you were the only thing that would have brought him back here again.”
Kesst’s gaze was still fixed on the corridor ahead, but Geva didn’t miss his little sniff, or his palm rubbing at his eyes. “And then, when he finally waltzes back in here,” he said, with a sigh, “first he shoves that dagger in my face, and now he starts railing on aboutvengeance. As if he’s completely forgotten everything about me! Next thing I know, he’ll be nagging at me to go sparring with him, so I can improve my self-defense skills, or some other such rubbish!”
Geva’s mouth reflexively twitched, her thoughts flicking back to Rathgarr’s words from just that morning — but then she made herself consider it, turning it over in her thoughts. Something new.
“Well, if youwereto do something together with Rathgarr,” she ventured, “what would it be? Was there anything you both enjoyed? Anything you had in common?”
She winced as she spoke, because only now was she also remembering Rathgarr saying he and Kesst had nothing in common at all — but to her vague surprise, Kesst was sighing, and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, a good meal, maybe?” he said. “Or shopping? Rath always had good taste. In clothes and jewels, at least, because his taste in women was truly appal —”
He broke off there, angling Geva an alarmed glance, as if he’d just remembered who he was talking to. “Sorry, sister,” he said, with a grimace. “I assure you, you’re very much out of his usual line. Or what used to be his line, anyway.”
But Geva’s heart was erratically beating now, her thoughts darting back to Rathgarr’s too-present, too-powerful words from what felt like months before.Why should I not wish for a soft, sweet, eager woman to share my bed. Neither should I ever choose to mate you…
“And look, that’s a good thing, all right?” Kesst added, rather too quickly, his eyes angling toward hers. “If Rath wasn’t off running roughshod over some sweet, obliging, unsuspecting creature, he was falling all over women who obviously only wanted his prick, his gold, or the thrill of bedding an orc. Honestly, to see him swearing vows to a thoughtful, capable, self-possessedgoverness, of all people” — Kesst shot her another sidelong look, perhaps a little suspicious this time — “it’s just… surprising, that’s all.”
