Read Online [Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter by Morgan Howell - Free Book Online Page B

live here. Our ancestors once farmed this land and their crops now grow wild.” Kovok-mah gestured to a large pile of tubers, roots, and fleshy leaf stalks.
    “It looks like you feasted,” said Dar.
    “Not yet,” said Kovok-mah. “Mothers own food.”
    “You’ve been waiting for me to serve it?”
    “That is proper way.”
    The prospect of ample food and a day of rest filled Dar with a sense of well-being. It surpassed the peace she had felt at Garlsholding, for it was more than the absence of fear. As a bondmaid, no one cared about her. The orcs clearly did. Relaxed, and still sleepy, Dar yawned.
    “Ground is cold in morning,” said Kovok-mah, folding his cloak to cushion his lap.
    Dar took the hint and climbed upon it. He wrapped his arms about her. “Ground is cold,” she said. “I’m glad you’re so warm.”
     
    The food that the orcs had gathered was new to Dar. Thung was a succulent leaf stalk filled with thick sap that reminded Dar a little of broth. Brak was a tuber with crunchy yellow flesh that had a nutty flavor. The pashi roots were bland, but filling. The meal was satisfyingly ample. It also reminded the orcs of home and turned their thoughts in its direction.
    “Air was clear yesterday,” said Duth-tok. “I saw Blath Urkmuthi.”
    “Did mountains look close?” asked Dar.
    “Thwa, but it was good to see them,” said Duth-tok.
    Lama-tok sighed. “I long to work their bones again.”
    “Hai,” said Duth-tok. “Kip and bakt fit hand better than sword.”
    “What’s ‘kip’ and ‘bakt’?” asked Dar.
    “Tools to shape stone,” said Duth-tok. He made the motions of striking a chisel with a hammer. “Hit kip with bakt.”
    “You worked stone?” asked Dar.
    “Hai,” said Lama-tok. “Tok clan is famed for it.”
    “Lama and I built Zna-yat’s vathem,” said Duth-tok.
    Dar turned to Zna-yat. “What’s that? House?”
    Zna-yat smiled. “House for mice, perhaps. Vathem is wall to make even ground on slope. There are many vathems around our homes. Mountainsides look like this.” He traced imaginary terraces in the air.
    “You farm?” said Dar. “I thought you were soldier.”
    “Killing isn’t proper work,” said Zna-yat. “At home, I grow brak and pashi. Kovok-mah raises goats and makes hard milk. Varz-hak makes sand ice.”
    “Sand ice? What’s that?” asked Dar.
    “Special wisdom of Hak clan,” said Varz-hak. “We have way to melt sand. When it cools, it is clear and hard like ice, but not cold.”
    “You can see through little door of sand ice,” said Kovok-mah, “but rain and wind do not come in.”
    Dar imagined shutters that wouldn’t darken a hut. “That would be useful.”
    “Hai,” said Varz-hak. “Even washavokis desire them. I also make sand ice vessels to store things. You can see what’s inside.”
    “If you drop them, they break,” said Kovok-mah. He laughed. “Hak clan wise to make things everyone wants and everyone breaks.”
    “You have such useful skills,” said Dar. “Why do you fight?”
    “Sons must protect mothers,” said Kovok-mah.
    “How does fighting for washavoki king protect mothers?” asked Dar.
    “I don’t know,” said Kovok-mah. “That is queen’s wisdom.”
    “Perhaps,” said Zna-yat, “if we do not fight for washavoki king, washavokis will attack urkzimmuthi land.”
    “Perhaps you’re right,” said Dar, thinking Zna-yat had a better grasp of human ruthlessness than the others.
    “Long ago,” said Kovok-mah, “urkzimmuthi did not fight. We made no weapons. None wore death’s hard clothes.”
    “Those were lessons washavokis taught our ancestors,” said Zna-yat.
    No wonder you hate them , thought Dar. “They were cruel lessons,” she said.
    “Hai,” said Zna-yat, “but you’ll teach us different ones.”
    “I have no lessons for you,” said Dar.
    “You will,” said Zna-yat.
    Once again, Dar marveled at Zna-yat’s conversion. Two days ago, he was plotting my death. Now he talks as if I