“No, he had another commitment today,” Geva made herself say, as lightly as she could, as she cheerfully waved him toward the door. “But I hope he’ll be back soon.”
Timo didn’t seem convinced, still eyeing Geva with his nose twitching, but after a meaningful grunt from Ulfarr, he scurried toward the door. Leaving Geva behind with Ulfarr, of all people, and she lurched forward too, while desperately hoping he would follow along far, far behind.
But there was no such luck, of course. And somehow Ulfarr had even fallen in step beside her, angling her a narrow look out the corner of his eye.
“Where has your Ash-Kai really gone?” he asked, in a deep, deadpan voice. “Plotting again, mayhap? Digging deeper, this time?”
Geva startled, and couldn’t help a wide, wet-eyed glance toward where he was frowning at her, his heavy brow deeply furrowed. “If Rathgarr was wise,” he continued, “he would leave this, and welcome the gifts he has. He would look forward, rather than back.”
Something shivered up Geva’s spine, but she lifted her chin, gave him her haughtiest look. “I’m not surprised you would think so,” she said crisply. “That would benefit you very well, wouldn’t it?”
And damn it, perhaps that was betraying far too much, risking exposing all Rathgarr’s secret plans, but Ulfarr didn’t look even slightly surprised. “No,” he said flatly. “This would benefithim.”
Well, that was unsettling, and Geva couldn’t seem to shake off the ever-rising unease, even once they’d reached Orc Mountain’s front entrance, and Ulfarr had stalked off to help Killik with the game. It was a very Skai hide-and-seek amidst the trees surrounding the base of the mountain, and while usually Geva would have laughed and cheered as she watched, or maybe even participated, she could only seem to stand there with her arms folded, her eyes glancing again and again toward the bulk of the mountain behind her.
There was still no sign of Rathgarr as they all traipsed inside again, the orclings flush-faced and chattering with pleasure. And despite Geva’s best attempts to focus on Tristan’s morning’s teaching — writing simple words in Aelakesh — she finally had to set down her quill, and focus hard on breathing through her nose. It hadn’t been a no. Forward…
“Are you all right, sister?” interrupted a familiar voice, and when Geva glanced over, it was Kesst, pulling up a chair to sit beside her. “Where’s Rath?”
His eyes looked sharply suspicious, suddenly, almost as if he somehow knew about their fight, and Geva desperately attempted a shrug, a casual wave of her hand. “He just had a few things to sort out this morning,” she said, fixing her gaze back to where Tristan now had the orclings verbally translating sentences for one another, their little voices clamouring loudly through the room. “Are you ready for your first teaching stint, then?”
It was finally Kesst’s day to lead the clan-focused activity, in their very first session on oral history. Which, before today, Geva had been eagerly anticipating — but now that she was again thinking of Kesst’s wonderful tale the night before, there was only more deep, dragging misery in her belly. It hadn’t been a no. He’d said he would come back…
Kesst was giving her a very odd look, now, but Tristan had clearly had enough, blinking bemusedly around at the room of now-shrieking orclings, and Geva lurched to her feet, and called for the room to quiet down. And then she waved Kesst up to the front of the room, introducing him as enthusiastically as she could.
“Along with our reading and writing, spoken stories and tales are a very important way to learn and share with one another,” she told the watching class. “And our brother Kesst is a very gifted tale-teller. A true Ash-Kai galdr-spinner. And I can’t wait to hear what he has for us today.”
She beamed toward him, in perhaps her second genuine smile of the day, which Kesst returned with another sharply suspicious look, before sighing and flicking his gaze back to the room. “Right, then,” he said, leaning back against the nearest table. “We’ll begin with Edom and Akva. Our furthest forebears, and the founders of our mountain.”
On its face, it sounded like a far less compelling story than the skunk and the maiden — but soon Geva was just as rapt, just as caught, as the night before. Lost in the twisty, turbulent tale of a lonely, runaway elf, betrayed by his own kin, and cast away from his home. And when he ran, sailing to a new realm across the sea, he soon found refuge in a new home — a great, sprawling mountain, which in return for his care, granted him shelter and safety from his enemies.
But the more settled Edom became, the more lonely he grew, too. He’d lost all his kin, and he longed for a companion, a friend. And so, he sought out a mate, and found one in a brave, beautiful human woman named Akva. She soothed him and comforted him, and offered him peace and pleasure — and in his gratefulness and affection, Edom marked her as his own, and swore he would never seek another. And together, they raised five sons, who became the five clans of orcs. Ash-Kai, the strongest, then Bautul, the bravest. Then Skai, the swiftest, and Ka-esh, the wisest. And finally, Grisk, the kindest.
Kesst stopped speaking there, but just like the night before, the tale seemed to keep sprawling in the silence, settling out wide across the room. Where more than a dozen rambunctious orclings sat in hushed, enthralled stillness, their bright eyes rapturous and glittering on Kesst’s face, on the way his clawed hands were hovering in midair, as if holding up the spell, the story, for all of them to see.
When his hands dropped, it was as though a rushing little ripple swept through the room — and then the orclings began shifting and stirring again, some of them whispering to each other, some just blinking in stunned, spellbound awe. And Geva felt her throat swallowing hard at the sight of Vragi, who was staring with unabashed wonder toward Kesst, while a shiny drop of wetness streaked down his plump little cheek.
“Another!” called a familiar voice beside Geva, and when she jerked to look, it was Jule. And when she’d come in, Geva couldn’t have said, but she was wryly smiling from the nearest chair, with a silent, wide-eyed Tengil in her arms. “Kesst is a wonder, isn’t he?” she asked. “I’m so glad you suggested this, sister.”
Kesst had obviously overheard, rolling his eyes toward them, but then he shrugged, and launched into another tale. This one a far lighter story about the two brothers Bautul and Skai, and their friendly but steadily escalating rivalry. One that culminated in Skai enlisting Ka-esh’s help to flood Bautul’s favourite part of the mountain, which had the unexpected result of creating a rich, loamy garden on the Bautul side — a garden Bautul then used to grow delicious food, which he flatly refused to allow Skai to eat.
“But finally, they came to a truce,” Kesst’s light voice said, his hands still fluttering in midair, “when swift, watchful Skai travelled all over the realm, seeking out the rarest, most succulent plants and seeds. And when he returned, he freely granted them to his brother Bautul as a gift, and swore to guard his garden, and keep his great bounty safe. And thus, the two brothers were forever reconciled, and Skai never went hungry again.”
This time, the tale’s end left the orclings smiling and giggling, the Skai and Bautul casting proud, bashful glances toward one another. And at their collective urging, Kesst then told another tale, and another, and another.
It was a truly wonderful way to spend a morning, and at one point Tengil crawled over into Geva’s lap, his little body curling up warm and reassuring against her. And it was almost — almost — enough to make her forget Rathgarr, forget the unease and the misery, in the quiet, perfect peace of this moment.
But then at some point, Sigarr and Abjorn came in, ready for the day’s scheduled sparring session. And suddenly the spell was broken, and Geva was blinking between them and the door, and feeling the misery surge even stronger than before. Rathgarr still hadn’t come. Forward…
It took nearly all her willpower to get up and thank Kesst, and then to start directing the class toward the Ash-Kai sparring-room. But finally they were there and settled, happily throwing themselves into Sigarr’s first exercises of the day, and Geva sagged down onto the nearest stone step, her fingers twisting her wedding-ring again and again. Her eyes blankly watching where Sigarr was demonstrating a specific kind of throw, pinning a squirming Abjorn firmly down beneath him, his knee digging deep into his belly. While Abjorn choked and gasped, his eyes gone curiously blank, before he flailed up again, kicking at Sigarr’s solid, unyielding back.
“They’ll figure it out one of these days,” interrupted a light, familiar voice, making Geva jump — but it was only Kesst again, giving a wry smile as he sank down to sit beside her. “At least, we can only hope. For the safety of the orclings’ eyes, if nothing else.”
Geva managed a wan smile in return, glancing back at where Abjorn was wildly wriggling away from Sigarr’s crushing grip — at least, until Sigarr launched onto him again. Pinning him face-down to the floor this time, while Abjorn helplessly arched and growled beneath him, his eyes rolling back.
“Is there a reason they can’t just talk to one another?” Geva said, wincing at the obvious wistfulness in her voice. “Be honest with each other, and work it out?”
Kesst huffed a mirthless laugh, and then jerked a too-casual shrug. “We’re Ash-Kai, sister, remember?” he replied. “Well, not Abjorn, but close enough. And why would we ever expose ourselves to that kind of potential pain and loss if we don’t actually need to? At least this way” — he nodded at where Sigarr was pulling Abjorn up again, giving his shoulder a firm little squeeze — “they know they have this much. Here. Right now. No matter what rubbish comes tomorrow.”
