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

mother.”
    “Being like one thing isn’t same as being it,” said Zna-yat.
    “One kind of washavoki called ‘woe man’ is enough like mothers that Muth la isn’t dishonored when they serve food. Our queen says so.”
    “I’d rather receive it from true mothers,” said Zna-yat.
    “I would, too,” said Kovok-mah. “But since I can’t, I’ll tolerate these woe mans. They’ll act more like mothers if we treat them so.”
    Zna-yat pondered what Kovok-mah had said. “Is that why you call Weasel mother?”
    “Hai.”
    “There’s some sense in what you say, but only some.”
    “World has become strange,” said Kovok-mah, “and we must learn to do strange things.”
    “That Weasel spoke to me this evening. It said ‘This mother forgives you.’ I was much surprised.”
    “How did you reply?”
    “I said breath of Muth la would soon take its stink away.”
    “That was reasonable,” said Kovok-mah. “Weasel is clean for washavoki.”
    “Perhaps so, but your interest in it is peculiar.”
    “Interest?”
    “I’ve seen you speak to it. I know you taught it those words.”
    “Hai. It asked me to.”
    Zna-yat smiled. “Back home, you were always good to your goats. I think Weasel has become your new goat. That explains why you don’t mind its smell.”
    Kovok-mah laughed. “Zna, you understand me too well. Weasel is like my goat.”
    “It’s still washavoki.”
    “And mother,” said Kovok-mah.
    “Such thinking proves you’ve been away from home too long.”
    “Hai,” agreed Kovok-mah, “far too long.”
     
    The women, except for Dar, were exhausted from marching all day. The soldiers were tired also, and by nightfall the camp was a quiet place. Dar’s companions quickly fell asleep, but she was restless. No fatigue washed the worry from her mind or dulled the throbbing in her leg. Dar left the tent and peered into the night. There was no moon, and the obscure world seemed almost formless. Nevertheless, Dar limped into the dark, making her way as much by feel as by sight.
    She entered one of the ruined huts and discovered it filled with weeds. Any trace of the people who had once lived there was hidden by the gloom. As she turned to leave, someone grabbed the skirt of her shift. “Can’t sleep?” asked a man.
    Dar recognized his voice. “Murdant Teeg?”
    “Aye, ’tis me.” Teeg was sitting by the doorway, his back against the blackened wall. Dar could barely see him. Teeg’s other hand moved, and Dar heard the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle. She stepped back, but the murdant held fast. “Stay awhile.”
    Dar had little choice. She knelt down in the ruined doorway. Teeg let go of her shift, grabbed her torso, and pulled her toward him. Crushed against his armored doublet, Dar smelled the drink on Teeg’s breath. She tried to break free. “Be still, birdie, yer safe. No man dare touch ye.”
    “You’re touching me now.”
    “Just a hug. Ye can’t begrudge that.”
    “I don’t think Murdant Kol would like it.”
    “Huggin’s not tuppin’, so don’t get yer piss hot. When Kol’s done with ye, best be on my good side.”
    Dar grew still.
    “That’s more like it,” said Teeg, not relaxing his grip. “Want some brandy?”
    “No.”
    “Suit yourself.” Teeg took a long swig from the bottle. “By Karm’s ass, this place is a dung heap.”
    “It looks like it was nice once,” said Dar.
    “Aye, ’twas better than nothin’.” Teeg spit into the darkness. “That tolum had shit for brains. ‘Teach ’em a lesson,’ he said. Well, we did, but who’s campin’ in the weeds?”
    “The army did this?”
    “Who else?”
    “Why?”
    “The peasants were hidin’ food. The tolum found out and set the piss eyes on ’em.”
    Dar shuddered at the thought, causing Teeg to chuckle. “’Twasn’t pretty,” he said, “but war never is.”
    “War? These were the king’s own subjects.”
    “They should have thought of that when they hid the food.”
    Teeg shifted