Chapter 40 #3
Really? Raye’s brows rose, and a flicker of curiosity sparked through her thoughts. “So is that why these new orcs mentioned wanting our meals? Did you… did you plan that on purpose?”
She could hear the disbelief in her voice — Kalfr surely wasn’t that calculating, was he?
— but he shrugged, and his mouth twitched up.
“I spoke this to a few friends, whilst we were at the mountain,” he replied.
“How we would offer Grum’s cooking, and how we yet needed a healer, and a scholar, and skilled help with digging more tunnels. And a drummer, also.”
Raye’s mouth fell open, and she exchanged a disbelieving look with Gaelfr, who had begun to look less angry, and more grudgingly intrigued.
“And why did you want those other things, beyond the food?” Raye cautiously asked.
“A healer makes sense, of course, just in case” — she couldn’t deny a lurch of fear as she glanced toward a still-listening Svein — “but you already have plenty of tunnels, don’t you?
And why a drummer, or a dancer? And a scholar, did you say? Who would that be?”
She’d been speaking too quickly, her voice high-pitched and perhaps accusing, but thankfully, Kalfr didn’t seem to take offense. “Our scholar shall be Rurik’s mate Julian,” he replied. “And he shall serve as our tutor. Our teacher.”
Their teacher? Raye exchanged another disbelieving look with Gaelfr, but Kalfr was now smiling down toward Svein.
“You helped me think of this, son,” he said, “with how much you enjoyed the school yesterday — and when you told me you meant to teach Gael to read common-tongue, also. Many Bautul do not know how to do this, but if our band is to prosper, and be ready to face any trial, we must bear these skills.”
Gaelfr blinked and gaped at Kalfr, his mouth fallen open. “You wish,” he said, “for this Julian to grant me reading lessons.”
Kalfr surely didn’t miss the disbelief in Gaelfr’s voice, but he raised his brows, and nodded.
“Ach, with Svein’s help,” he coolly replied.
“You, and any other orc who needs to learn. And once we have done this, we ought to plan for lessons in Aelakesh — our tongue — for any who need this, also. Most of all” — he patted Svein’s head — “you, son, so you can well speak to your own kin.”
Svein looked cautiously fascinated by this prospect, and despite Raye’s own hitching confusion — did Kalfr mean she would need lessons, too?
— she nodded, and aimed a grateful smile toward Kalfr’s face.
“Yes, that’s an excellent point,” she told him, and she meant it.
“Thank you for thinking of it. Svein needs an education, and the school at the mountain seemed lovely, but…”
“But we are not there,” Kalfr finished, with a small smile back toward her. “Once this is all settled, mayhap we can plan to spend more time there, so Svein can gain from this — but for now, this shall help.”
Raye nodded again, and found herself exchanging another glance with Gaelfr.
He was frowning again — clearly still put out by the idea of his forthcoming reading lessons — but surely he’d caught what Kalfr had just said, too.
Once this is all settled, mayhap we can plan.
As if… this was something Kalfr meant to be there for. Something he wanted, in his future.
“And as for the drummer and dancer,” Kalfr continued, “these have long been part of our bands, but we have not well honoured their true purpose. For they are the ones who carry our tales and our history, and teach our sons our ways. They bring the rest of the band joy, and revelry, and rest. And they oft carry gifts we have all but forgotten. Gifts that could grant great help to us, should we honour and uphold these.”
His voice had gone deep and decisive, his eyes glittering with determination, with hope — and Raye again met Gaelfr’s gaze, holding longer this time.
Because again, Kalfr wasn’t thinking about death and despair right now, was he?
He wasn’t thinking of the band’s defeat, or of his own sacrifice.
No, he was thinking about the future. About the kind of future he wanted to see, and be part of. He cared about this. He wanted this.
“What of the tunnels, then?” Gaelfr asked, his voice curt. “Why do you need more of these?”
Perhaps Kalfr saw it as the concession it surely was, because his smile toward Gaelfr looked almost grateful.
“It was you who made me think of this, Gael,” he replied, “when you said mayhap Sybil would not be able to breach the byrgi. For these byrgis were not built to be fortresses of their own, only safe sturdy outposts, offering food and rest and shelter, and granting our bands the means to either fight battles or retreat to the mountain as needed. But” — he gestured at the byrgi around them — “we put so much extra care into this one, ach? And mayhap with a little more care, it could be a fortress. Mayhap it could withstand a siege, or even an attack.”
Raye’s eyes swept around the byrgi, taking in the thick stone walls, the barred windows, the solid steel front door, the fireplace leading down to all those rooms and tunnels below.
And while there were surely still vulnerabilities, it really was rather like a fortress, wasn’t it?
And could they really withstand an attack here? Maybe?
“And the tunnels are our strongest defense, in this,” Kalfr continued.
“Even more important than warriors. For it is in these tunnels that our kin can hide, for as long as they need — most of all if we are well prepared with food and stores. And we can do much more to strengthen the tunnels we have already built here. We can build doors, dead ends, new exits in places humans will never find. We can even dig a well deep below the earth, so our kin will always have safe water to drink.”
The conviction rang through his voice, through all the room, and Raye could see Gaelfr relenting more, his shoulders sagging. “I have never before heard of a Bautul band hiding from its enemies, thus,” he muttered. “Not when they had strength to fight.”
But Kalfr shot him a wry, incredulous look, surely in regards to Gaelfr’s own multiple years hiding across the sea.
To which Gaelfr made a face, let out a heavy sigh, and nodded.
Clearly following Kalfr’s point, and perhaps conceding to the fact that he’d wanted to rely on Kalfr’s cleverness, and find other ways to face this.
“I want a teacher, Mama,” cut in Svein’s small voice, as he eased up close beside Raye, his hand slipping into hers. “And I liked that drummer, too. He gave me a good lesson at the school yesterday.”
Well. Raye smiled back at him, and squeezed his hand in return. “That’s good to hear, love,” she replied. “It was very clever of Papa Kalfr to think about all this, wasn’t it?”
She smiled at Kalfr, too, giving him what she hoped was an appreciative look, and yes, his eyes warmed a little more, even as he glanced at Gaelfr again.
“And I did yet bring warriors, Gael,” he said, lower.
“And those who hold promise in this. Egil can yet hit any target within sight. Skirvir could defeat a dozen men all on his own. Othan is a fierce brawler who has defeated many of our warriors in unarmed combat. And you have not seen Eyolf and Iyolf in battle since they came of age — their bond is strong, and it is oft as though they share one mind, and one blade.”
Raye could see Gaelfr’s eyes softening, especially when Kalfr gripped his shoulder, and gave it a gentle shake. “And then we yet have you, Gael. For you are yet one of the greatest Bautul warriors in all the realm, are you not?”
Gaelfr wilted further, his breath exhaling harsh, as Kalfr gave another shake to his shoulder. “You are, ástin mín,” he insisted. “And if any orc can lead our warriors to greatness, it will be you.”
Gaelfr grimaced and muttered something about being out of fettle, to which Kalfr half-smiled, and gave him another companionable shake.
“Then all the better for you to do this,” he said.
“And this way, you can teach and grow our orcs alongside you. You ken you should have enjoyed leading a band full of hardened warriors, who will counter you at every turn, or believe they should be our battle-captain instead?”
It was a valid point, enough to bring a curl of distaste to Gaelfr’s lip, even as he shot Kalfr a searching look. “But — you cannot wish to name me your battle-captain,” he said, hoarse. “Should not this yet be you, or Silfast, or mayhap Olarr? Olarr said he should yet support you, did he not?”
Kalfr shrugged, and gave Gaelfr’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze this time.
“Ach, Olarr swore he would help,” he replied, “and I hope he and his kin will spare some time to train with us, also. But he yet has his own duties, and his own kin to care for, and I wish this to be you, Gael. I… trust you, in this. I trust you will keep us safe.”
Raye could see how those words struck Gaelfr, how his eyes blinked with brightness, how he swallowed again and again.
He looked genuinely honoured, genuinely touched — and hopeful, too.
Because again, Kalfr was caring about this.
Wanting this for his band, and for Gaelfr. Looking forward to the future.
“You greatly honour me, voreur,” Gaelfr said, his voice gruff, as he put his fist to his heart, and bowed his head toward Kalfr. “I should be most proud, to serve as your battle-captain. I shall do all within my power to be worthy of this.”
Kalfr’s smile back was achingly fond, and he yanked Gaelfr close, squeezing him tight, bumping his fist against his back. “I know you will, Gael,” he said, and he sounded gruff, too. “Thank you.”
They embraced for another long moment, Gaelfr’s face buried deep against Kalfr’s neck, while those words of Kalfr’s jangled through Raye’s thoughts.
I trust you. I trust you. Something he could say to Gaelfr, and not to her.
Because despite all this, even if this band could help Kalfr — he would still never forgive her, right?
There is naught you could ever, ever do.
“And what about Mama?” broke in Svein’s small, clear voice. “What will she do in your band?”
Raye’s hand spasmed against where she was still clasping Svein’s fingers, and she grimaced, shook her head — but Kalfr and Gaelfr had quickly pulled apart, and Svein was watching Kalfr intently, his mouth stubbornly frowning in a way that looked unnervingly reminiscent of Gaelfr.
“Mama will be important, won’t she?” he insisted. “Just as important as Papa Gaelfr?”
Raye braced herself for some kind of excuse, some dismissal on Kalfr’s part — perhaps saying that she would keep looking after Svein, and that would be the most important job of all — but to her surprise, Kalfr nodded, and patted Svein’s hair.
“Ach, she will, son,” he said. “For if she wishes for this, she shall have not one, but two important roles in our band.”
Svein angled a searching glance up at Raye, seeking her response to this, but Raye couldn’t seem to find one. Two important jobs? What did he mean?
“For the first job,” Kalfr continued, “we yet need a watcher.”
A watcher. Which was… what? But surely Kalfr had followed Raye’s confusion, his eyes holding hers.
“In days long past,” he explained, “each Bautul byrgi was held by a watcher. This was oft the voreur’s mate, and it was almost always a human woman.
For a woman could keep and guard the byrgi, and hide its true purpose amongst the other humans, in a way an orc could not. ”
That made sense, and perhaps Raye had already known as much, from those mercenaries’ accusations against her. “So this role is just… a cover, then?” she asked, feeling inexplicably disappointed. “A convenient caretaker, available to manage whatever mercenaries and magistrates happen to drop by?”
But Kalfr shook his head. “No, not only this,” he said.
“The watcher thus became the guard of the byrgi, and all the band. She would work closely with the voreur and his battle-captain to help gird the byrgi and its defenses. She would watch for weaknesses, raise alarms, and call the band to her side whenever she needs this. She is the byrgi’s second-in-command, after the voreur, and the band will honour her as such. ”
Oh. Rather more than just a caretaker, then, and Gaelfr’s head tilted, his eyes thoughtfully flicking between Kalfr and Raye. “This is much like what you have done all this time at your own home, is it not?” he pointed out. “I am sure you can well do this here, also, most of all with more help.”
Well. Raye still felt caught in the surprise of it, the awareness that Kalfr wanted to give her a job like that. That he would let her guard his byrgi. Manage its defenses. Monitor its weaknesses. Serve as his second-in-command. As if… he trusted her, too.
But then again, maybe it was only another test. Another challenge. Or, perhaps — Raye’s stomach sank — it was another part of the show. A way to establish her place here, and with the band, so they would support her in return, and thereby keep Svein safe.
“And what’s the second job you had in mind?” she asked, though her voice sounded uncertain. “Is it something I could still do, together with all of that — and with being present for Svein, too?”
Kalfr nodded, and the small smile on his mouth was warm, and again… hopeful. As if this, too, was something he was looking forward to. “I ken you could,” he said. “Shall you show her, Gael?”
Raye blinked, her heart skipping, while Gaelfr strode over toward the door, to where some of the packages the orcs had brought were still stacked haphazardly on top of each other.
And when he snatched up the biggest, most awkward-looking package, and set it on the table with a thunk, Raye already knew what it was, even before she tentatively reached to open a corner of the paper.
It was — the loom.