Free [Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property by Morgan Howell

like to learn the words to tell Zna-yat I am sorry.”
    “Thwa,” said Kovok-mah.
    “Why not?”
    “Dargu nak muth.”
    “You keep saying that. I’m not a mother. I have no child.”
    “Bowl is for food. When it is empty, it is still bowl.”
    Dar realized that “muth” must be Orcish for both “mother” and “female.” “So, because I’m a mother, you won’t teach me?”
    “You should not say sorry to Zna-yat. Instead, say ‘Kala muth verlav tha.’ It means ‘This mother forgives you.’ This will not shame him, but it will help him see he was wrong.”
    Kovok-mah’s reasoning struck Dar as strange. No soldier would care if I forgave him . Yet, apparently, an orc would. “Kala muth verlav tha,” said Dar. “This mother forgives you.”
    “Hai,” said Kovok-mah. “You speak good.”
    “Shashav, Kovok-mah.” Dar saw orcs emerging from the woods. “I should go,” she said. “Vata, Kovok-mah.”
    “Vata, Dargu.”
    As Dar limped back to the cooking area, she smiled when she realized that “vata”—Orcish for “good-bye”—was the reverse of “tava,” which meant “hello.”
    “What are you smiling about?” asked Loral.
    “Something the orc said.”
    “I’ve never heard of orcs saying anything funny.”
    “Have you ever talked to one?” asked Dar.
    “No,” said Loral, “and I don’t intend to start. You, of all people, should know how risky that is.”
     
    Dinner was ready at sundown. Dar and Neena entered the sleeping tent to scrub the scent from their bodies and change into serving robes. The kettle held porridge for only thirty-six, and Dar was able to help carry it, despite her leg. It was she who addressed the orcs saying “Saf nak ur Muthz la”— Food is One Mother’s gift . When the orcs replied “Shashav Muth la”— Thanks One Mother —she felt partly included.
    That feeling gave Dar the courage to speak to Zna-yat. She limped over to her attacker, looking him squarely in the eye. His face was impassive, but Dar noted that his nostrils flared as she approached. She also noticed that every orc was watching her. Dar halted. “Zna-yat,” she said, “kala muth verlav tha.” Zna-yat, this mother forgives you.
    Zna-yat’s mouth twisted like Kovok-mah’s did when he was surprised. He muttered something Dar didn’t understand and turned his eyes away. Dar was unsure what effect her words had on Zna-yat, but merely uttering them made her feel bold.

 
    Ten

    The woods were deep in shadow; yet, as Kovok-mah returned from bathing, he had no difficulty finding his way. He liked the night, when the washavokis were nearly blind but the urkzimmuthi saw clearly. The washavokis usually grew quiet after Muth la hid her golden eye, and Kovok-mah relished the peace. The only sounds were natural ones. Frogs peeped their springtime love song. The stream gurgled over its stony bed. Leaves rustled. It felt good to have shed death’s hard clothes. Kovok-mah paused to let the breath of Muth la take the water from his skin. As he savored the tranquillity and the breeze, the day’s last light left the sky.
    Kovok-mah heard footsteps. He turned. Seeing Zna-yat approach, he greeted him in Orcish, the only language his cousin understood. “Tava, father’s sister’s son.”
    “Tava, mother’s brother’s son,” replied Zna-yat. “Thomak-tok asks how many guards tonight.”
    “Only one. Muth la hides her silver eye. Washavokis will stumble and make noise if they come.”
    “Hai,” agreed Zna-yat, “and we’re still far from place for killing.”
    “Still, washavokis kill anywhere.”
    “Hai. Anywhere.” Zna-yat lingered. When he spoke again, he used the intimate form of address permitted close friends. “Kovok, I’m puzzled.”
    “Why?”
    “This morning, you called one washavoki mother and didn’t let me kill it.”
    “Hai.”
    “I don’t understand. Washavokis can’t be mothers. They’re animals.”
    “All animals come in two kinds, and one kind is like