This back-and-forth would never have happened with Taruut. But Archie and Droko had their ways. And all of thisdiscussingthey did was part of it. I hardly heard it anymore. In fact, I was busy thinking over the young shaman’s story.
I was perhaps a dozen years older than Droko, and I’d grown up in these caves. Yet, at the mention of his great-grandsire’s sword, an image sprang to mind. A ragged orc holding up a sword to the sun, laughing to himself. And the inlay on the pommel was a pair of crossed blades.
The weirdest thing about the image was its shape. Broad, like a horizon. Like something seen with two eyes.
Before I could ponder what this meant, one of my guards rushed in and tapped a knee to the floor. “A pardon, Droko the Mystic, seer of great visions, knower of—”
“Just cut to the chase,” Droko said. “What is it?”
“A visitor to the infirmary. Ulka, captain of the archers.”
I’ve been told my missing eye would have prompted the archers to recruit me if Taruut hadn’t kept me for himself. Without two eyes to distract me, my aim would be keen.
I’d never learned archery. We had no use for it in the caves.
“How bad is she?” Droko asked.
The guard said, “Cursed, my shaman. She keeps dropping her bow.”
“So, she’s not bleeding out.” Droko turned to Archie. “Tend to her while I deal with the chieftain. Kof, you go with Archie.”
Wise decision. Droko might have trusted Archie as a warrior trusts his shield, but not every clan member shared his high opinion of humans.
I accompanied Archie down the winding tunnels to the infirmary. The chamber was low and moist, with a steaming pool of water just off-center and walls covered in rivulets of hardened mineral that dripped down like candle wax. A charcoal brazier burned low, smoking gently. At the point of each cardinal direction was a smooth granite slab.
Ulka rested on none of them. She paced through the smoke, grumbling to herself. Ulka was a sturdy warrior in her prime,about my age, with fine, straight tusks and speckled skin the color of aloe. Her hair was in a tight braid over one shoulder, and her light leather armor bore the Red Hand Clan symbol proudly.
“Why is the human here?” she demanded. “Something is making me drop my bow—three times now in the last few days—and my shots aren’t hitting their targets. I need to see the shaman. Not some…boy.”
Unruffled, Archie said, “Droko the Mystic is busy advising the chieftain, so you’ve got me. But don’t worry. I learned everything I know about the healing arts from Taruut’s very mouth.”
Grudgingly, Ulka detailed her issues, but I realized I’d stopped listening. Smoke stung my eye. How long had I been staring at one of the slabs without blinking? Long enough for Archie to have bundled a poultice and strapped it to her muscular forearm.
Ulka watched skeptically. “Will this expose whatever’s cursed me?”
“That’s for the ancestors to decide,” Archie said.
Exactly what Taruut would have told her.
“Not good enough,” Ulka said. “I’m needed for the hunt. The Lost Clan is here, and I’m the best archer. The responsibility to keep them fed is mine.”
“Take it up with the ancestors.” Archie handed her a small pot of unguent. “And rub this balm on your arm three times a day till it feels better.”
It was more than Droko would have done for her—he was not the one trained in healing—but she was still affronted by the fact that the shaman himself hadn’t looked her over.
Ulka followed me out in stoic silence until a piercing shaft of sunlight marked the exit of the caves. Only then did she say something directly to me. “I was there, Kof. When you lost your eye.”
I stopped as if someone had just slapped me with the flat of their blade. But I could form no reply.
“We were young,” she said, eventually. “You probably don’t remember.”
“No. I don’t.”
“A few years back, my brother snapped off a tusk, all the way to the root. Howled like a wounded elk. He can’t remember it either. But I can still see it in my mind—you, I mean. A group of us had found a nest of rock lizards, and we were pulling off their tails to watch them squirm around in the dirt while the lizards ran off. You grabbed the biggest lizard—the size of a fox—but it struggled hard and clawed you right across the eye.”
She paused and reached for my face. I steeled myself from flinching away. Honor guards do not flinch. Her callused fingers were cool at my temple and her thumb traced my scar.
“It didn’t look like such a bad wound—but Taruut said it festered. That’s why he had to keep you in his caves. I was sure that eventually you’d come out. But you never did.”
