Chapter 40 #2
They caught up just as Kalfr was opening the byrgi’s front door, indeed revealing a second group of orcs waiting behind it.
Unlike the Bautul group earlier, Raye didn’t immediately recognize any of these orcs — and Fengr had been right, because they didn’t have quite the same rugged, powerful look that Raye had begun to recognize in most of the Bautul orcs.
Instead, several of these orcs were slimmer and shorter, and their faces were more conventionally handsome, too.
“Rurik, of Clan Skai,” said the light-eyed orc in front, the tallest of the group, as he raised his fist to his chest, and stalked inside without asking. “Your healer, until this fuss is settled. And” — he reached back for the shorter orc behind him — “Julian. My Ka-esh.”
His Ka-esh? The Ka-esh were another of the orc clans, Raye recalled, the one Rosa and Daisy had belonged to — and if this Julian resented being referred to in such a way, he didn’t show it.
Instead, he smiled softly toward this Rurik, and then in turn toward Kalfr and Raye and Gaelfr and Svein.
“We have been taking jobs throughout the realm these past moons,” he said, “and your clan wished us to offer you our help.”
Their clan? Kalfr’s head cocked, while Gaelfr frowned toward this Rurik, who was now waving for Julian to follow him toward the stairs down below. “Who sent you to us?” Gaelfr demanded. “Silfast?”
“One of them,” replied Rurik with a shrug, as he clasped Julian’s hand, and ducked into the stairwell. “He paid, is all I care for. We will need a room and bedding, and fresh water and two of your good meals each day.”
He didn’t wait for anyone’s answer, and soon vanished down the stairwell, tugging an apologetically smiling Julian behind him. Leaving the rest of them staring awkwardly after him, the other new orcs included.
“Er, we have naught to do with him,” said the next one, a wryly smiling fellow with an alarming quantity of scars across his muscled bare chest. “But Rosa told us you were mustering a band here, and said you needed help. Thus, we wished to ask if you might need our aid with the tunnels again.”
Their aid… again? But yes, that was recognition in Kalfr’s eyes, and gratitude, too. “I thank you for this kind offer, William,” he replied. “But I ought to warn you, we may not” — his mouth twisted, his gaze darting down toward Svein — “stay here long. It may not be… safe.”
But this William only shrugged, while the orc close behind him — taller and slimmer than William, with a severe face — gave a curt nod.
“We do not fear this,” he told Kalfr. “And this is the kind of project that pleases my mate best. So long as you again grant us full freedom to dig however we please.”
Kalfr nodded, though he was looking pinched again, especially when the severe orc bowed toward him, and then toward Raye and Gaelfr and Svein, too. “I am Soren, of Clan Ka-esh, William’s mate,” he said. “And we shall need those good meals each day, also.”
With that, he also strode toward the stairs, imperiously gesturing for William to follow.
And after a sheepish grin toward them, William jogged off after him, and only then did Raye notice that he had multiple pickaxes and shovels strapped to his back, together with something that looked rather like a large metal drill.
It left one more orc standing at the door, and this one was bulkier than the others, though his face was still surprisingly handsome, and framed by long, glossy black hair.
Unlike the other new orcs, he looked vaguely familiar, and after an instant’s studying him, Raye placed him as the orc who’d been teaching the drumming class at Orc Mountain’s school the day before.
He was carrying a drum, too, a large, rounded barrel with a white skin stretched tightly over the top.
“I am Othan, of Clan Ash-Kai,” he said, in a deep, pleasing voice, as he stroked his drum with a familiar hand.
“Kesst and Rathgarr sent me. They said you did not yet have a drummer, and I ken every Bautul band ought to have one. And is it truth that you shall be offering your Bautul cooking, also?”
He smiled hopefully toward them, and Raye didn’t miss how Gaelfr was fully frowning now, glancing between Kalfr and Othan.
But Kalfr was eyeing this Othan thoughtfully, and he nodded, and waved him through the door.
“Ach, welcome, brother,” he replied. “It shall be an honour to have you amongst us.”
Othan flashed him a stunning grin in return, and after a flourishing bow, he too headed off toward the stairs. And once he was fully out of view, Gaelfr rounded on Kalfr, his brow furrowed, his hands in fists.
“What is all this, ástin mín?” he asked, his voice sharp. “Do you truly wish to welcome all these orcs into our band, when they are not even warriors? When they are not even Bautul?”
Kalfr’s mouth thinned, but he nodded. “Ach, I wish for them,” he replied. “And there is no decree that our bands must be made of only Bautul orcs, is there?”
A low growl burned from Gaelfr’s throat, and he lurched a step toward Kalfr.
“I thought we meant to bring this band here to help keep us safe,” he hissed.
“We have only a fortnight to ready ourselves for this. This is not a time for drumming and dancing and digging. For sundry orcs to be lying and lazing about, seeking out your cooking!”
Kalfr’s expression looked taut and grim again, his eyes darting sideways toward Svein, who was intently listening to every word — and though Gaelfr glanced toward Svein too, he shook his head, and took another step toward Kalfr.
“Almost any Bautul warrior in that mountain would have come to help you,” he said, quieter.
“Did you truly not wish to do this? Or, mayhap” — his voice dropped even more — “did you not wish to waste our clan’s best warriors upon this? ”
It took Raye a moment to follow that, to digest the implications of what Gaelfr meant. He meant that Kalfr really hadn’t brought in strong warriors to his band? That these orcs weren’t good fighters, and that they couldn’t help to keep the byrgi safe?
But as Raye’s thoughts cast over the orcs now assembled here, her own alarm kept rising, too.
Kalfr had called Egil a hunter, not a warrior.
He’d called Grum a former warrior, who was now a cook.
Fengr was a dancer, whatever that meant.
And then that healer Rurik and his Ka-esh — who would do what, exactly?
And the orcs digging the tunnels, and this drummer…
But Kalfr’s eyes were flinty on Gaelfr’s face, and he shook his head.
“I have given this much thought, Gael,” he said, his voice clipped.
“I told you, I have long studied the bands of old who lived at these byrgis. And they were never all warriors. They oft counted many others amongst their numbers, and many of them were not Bautul, also.”
Gaelfr kept frowning back, folding his arms across his chest. “But we are not a band of old,” he countered, and though his voice stayed steady, Raye could feel his frustration, simmering close beneath it. “We need strong warriors to keep you and our kin safe.”
He cast another narrow look at Svein, who was still listening to this with unnerving attentiveness, but Kalfr set his mouth tighter, his jaw spasming in his cheek.
“But I told you, Gael, this war is over,” he hissed back.
“And you yourself said we would seek other ways through this, beyond fighting these men, and thus starting this war again. You said you wished to rely on my cleverness, and grant me a band that could carry out my wishes. And I wish to build a band that can most help us, even in peace. A band that can carry on, and guard and care for our kin, even if —”
He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes carefully angling away from them, but Raye could almost hear his unspoken words, ringing out around them.
He’d wanted to build a band that he could trust to care for Svein, even after his death.
Because that was still what Kalfr had really gone to the mountain to gain, wasn’t it?
He’d pushed Silfast to bind that band to Svein forever — and Silfast had granted it.
He’d granted Kalfr one more reason to sacrifice himself to their enemies.
Gaelfr was looking downright furious now, and it took all Raye’s composure to fight down her own frustration, and dredge up the vow she’d made.
She’d promised to make amends. She was doing this for Svein.
And Kalfr was right that they’d agreed to find another way to face this beyond fighting.
And if he’d given his band this much thought and research, then maybe…
“So why did you choose these particular orcs for your band, then?” Raye made herself ask, as steadily as she could. “How did you think they could help you? And us?”
Kalfr’s glance toward her was unmistakably grateful, and he took a breath.
“A band must be healthy and hale, most of all,” he replied.
“No matter what trials they face, they must have a steady supply of good food, both fresh and stored — not only for them, but for their mates and sons. Thus, a band needs strong hunters and scenters and gardeners, and skilled cooks, also.”
Right. Kalfr was again thinking of Svein, surely, making sure Svein would be properly fed after his death.
And while Raye could appreciate that, Gaelfr was still frowning, shaking his head — but Kalfr frowned straight back.
“So this is why I chose many of these orcs,” he continued.
“Egil is our clan’s best hunter and scenter.
Eyolf and Iyolf are both capable gardeners.
And since his battle wounds have begun to plague him these past summers, Grum has been working with our kin in Orc Mountain’s kitchen, cooking traditional Bautul meals, and he has become so skilled that orcs will begin lining up at noon, if he is cooking the day’s supper. ”