It was a blatant attempt at getting them talking, they all well knew, but it worked more often than not, and Geva was distantly gratified when Rathgarr shrugged, and cleared his throat. “Ach, we oft had to fend for ourselves back then,” he said. “The clans did not come together to freely serve a meal each day, as they do now. So if we did not make food, we did not eat.”
Truly, their upbringing sounded more and more grim every time Geva heard of it, because how old had Rathgarr been when he’d been driven out, again? In his early twenties? And Kesst had been about fifteen?
“Wouldn’t your parents have provided meals for you?” she asked tentatively. “Even at some point, when you were younger?”
Kesst’s mouth pursed, his hand chopping faster, and again it was Rathgarr who replied, his voice lower than before. “I ken our father did, a little. But then he… could not remember how. And our mother… she was…”
Kesst’s head snapped up, fast enough that his hair flew out behind him. “Don’t you dare imply Mother was useless, Rath,” he shot back. “As if Father was any better? That witless brute even forgot how towalk, by the end. The week before he died, he thought I wasyou. Which of course I wasn’t, because you” — he jabbed his knife at Rathgarr — “weren’tthere!”
Beside Geva, Efterar hissed through his teeth, and she could see Rathgarr’s body stiffening, that telltale tightness pulling up his shoulders — but he was still breathing, his eyes fixed on Kesst’s face. “Ach, I was not there,” he said, quiet. “And neither was our father. But our motherwas, for these first fifteen years of your life. Why could she not have fed you, now and then? Why could she not have found you clothes, or cared for your hair? Why did she always cast blame uponmewhenever you wept, or shouted, or ran away?”
Kesst was still glaring at Rathgarr, bitter and vicious. “Mother wassuffering,” he snarled back. “She had to deal with all the rubbish from our fool father, and Kaugir, and this entire damned mountain!”
But Rathgarr just kept looking back, his shoulders still rising and falling. “Ach, and we did not?” he asked. “We did not need to face all this, for all those years, when we were not even grown? And had our mother been granted her way, little brother” — Rathgarr exhaled, heavy — “we would not even have had each other, amidst it all.”
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, but then Kesst twitched a visible shudder, his head jerking back and forth. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Mother didn’thateyou, Rath.”
Rathgarr’s laugh sounded more like a choke, and his head shook, too. “No?” he said. “So why did she so oft say she did? Ach, not long before I was run out, she told me she hoped some heroic man would soon kill me in battle, so I might finally leave her in peace aboutyou!”
What? Geva’s body flinched on her stool, her hands rubbing painfully at her face, while Kesst had gone very still, his eyes now firmly on the fire. And oddly enough, Rathgarr glanced down at Geva, holding her gaze, as he drew in another shaky breath, and looked at Kesst again.
“I ken you loved her, little brother,” he said, quiet. “But she was not a good mother, not even to you. She wished to keep you forever down in that stinking little room in the Ka-esh wing, telling her your tales, and helping her weave her petty little plots, until she forgot all else. Until she was just the same as our father.”
Kesst still wasn’t looking up, though his mouth twisted, his hand spasming on his knife. “You had plots, too,” he replied. “Andyouloved my tales just as much as she did! If not more!”
But Rathgarr didn’t even blink this time, his eyes steady on Kesst’s face. “Ach, I did,” he replied. “But I loved you more, little brother. You were” — his throat convulsed — “the light of my days. The son of my heart. And I would have gladly never heard another of your tales again, had it meant you were fed, and happy, andsafe.”
Kesst didn’t reply to that, or look up from the fire, but there was a strange, choked little sound, escaping from his mouth. And within an instant, Efterar had leapt to his feet, and folded Kesst tightly into his arms.
Kesst didn’t resist, just clung to Efterar as he sobbed, his face buried in his chest. And Geva felt her own eyes prickling too, and then catching on Rathgarr. Who was helplessly looking at Kesst, his big body again gone rigid, his claws extended sharp from his fingertips.
For a long while, no one spoke or moved, but for Efterar’s firm hands, running up and down Kesst’s back. Until Kesst finally hiccoughed and drew away, wiping at his face with unsteady hands.
“Well, isn’t this fun,” he said, though his voice was thick. “And we’ve only just begun! Who else has some horrifying trauma to share? Eft? Geva?”
Efterar was twitching an almost painfully affectionate smile down toward Kesst, his hand still stroking his back, and Geva felt herself drawing in a shaky breath, and glancing at Rathgarr’s stiff, still-staring body.Someday. If you are very, very good.
Seven days. The next step. The…
“Well,” she said, on a strange, choked gulp of air. “A few years ago, my family’s house burned to the ground, with everything we had still inside it. Including — my parents. If that counts?”
38
Geva almost instantly regretted her confession, her mouth wincing, her hand spasming over her face. While above her, Kesst’s mouth had fallen open with shock, Efterar was looking deeply alarmed, and —
And Rathgarr. Rathgarr was staring at her, utterly unmoving, his eyes shadowed hollows in his blank, empty face.
Damn it.Damnit. That was obviously not the kind of help he’d meant, she was not supposed to be disrupting this meaningful moment with her own damned rubbish, what if she’d ruined this, ruined everything…
Kesst was the one to recover first, squaring his shoulders, and striding over to drop down onto the stool beside her. “You know, that might be one of the worst ones I’ve heard yet,” he said lightly. “Unlessyouset the fire yourself, by chance?”
He was eyeing Geva with blatant mock suspicion, and suddenly she was so relieved, so horribly, desperately grateful, she almost felt faint. “No, it wasn’t me,” she managed, valiantly attempting to match his tone. “It was just — a horrible accident. Started in a bakery down the street. And I’d been away for a few days tutoring, and when I came home —”
All three orcs were staring at her now, waiting for her to continue, and gods, Geva couldn’t bear it, her eyes dropping to the crackling, snapping fire. “It was gone,” she whispered. “Everything except what I’d taken with me. All of it. My life. Myfuture.”
There was only a dank, dangling silence, waiting, waiting, as if there was more to say. But there wasn’t, really, and Geva attempted a smile toward the fire, but didn’t at all succeed.
“So I wrapped up our affairs as best I could, and then started searching for work,” she said thickly. “And ever since, I’ve just kept looking forward, doing the next thing. Saving up my coin. One step at a time. Right?”
