Rathgarr jerked a shaky nod, and then, at Geva’s prompting, he sank heavily down at the table too, pulling her tightly onto his lap. “I shall not argue this,” he said thickly, as his big hands began rubbing at her belly, almost as if to draw reassurance from it. “But” — he grimaced, and darted a wincing, worried look over toward Kesst — “this is not the only reason you mated Efterar, ach? His healing power, and his overlarge…?”
Kesst flared up in his chair, fixing Rathgarr with the full force of his furious loathing. “No!” he shot back. “I mean, obviously it was a lovely bonus, yes, but Eft is a saint, and Iadorehim! Do you think I judgeyoufor picking out a tall, busty, beautiful woman with a round rump and gorgeous hair?!”
Rathgarr was groaning again, rubbing at his eyes. “You ought not to notice such things,” he growled. “You ought not to evenlookthus, atmymate!”
Kesst snorted and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tightly over his bare chest. “Gods, you aresuchan old prude, Rath,” he snapped. “But just so we’re clear, yes, Eft is hung like a god, and yes, I have the deepest throat — and probably the deepest arse — in this damned mountain. And there isnothingyou can do about it!”
Rathgarr was still shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut, looking truly, genuinely pained — and Geva could see Kesst suddenly deflating, his throat bobbing, as his blinking eyes dropped to the table.
“It doesn’t… change anything, though, right, Rath?” he asked, his voice small. “How you… see me?”
Beneath Geva, Rathgarr stiffened all over, and it was as if he’d suddenly snapped awake again, his eyes wide and alarmed on Kesst’s face. “Ach, no!” he replied. “You are forever my heart-son, Kesst, and you areperfectas you are. There is naught in the realm that shall alter my regard or my love for you!”
Kesst was looking startled, but then unmistakably relieved, and Rathgarr exhaled, and reached across the table to briefly squeeze his hand. “I was only… surprised,” he said, gruffly. “I am… sorry. I did not wish to vex you.”
Kesst twitched a shrug, but he’d sagged heavily back into his chair, running both hands through his hair. “Well, don’t you have a nose, Rath?” he demanded, much more in his usual tone of voice. “I mean, I know your scenting is mediocre at best, but evenyoushouldn’t be clueless enough to miss something like that?!”
Rathgarr’s expression abruptly darkened again, and a low growl hissed from his throat. “I was… out of sorts,” he replied. “For just before this, I ran into Sken.”
Sken was an elderly Ash-Kai, Geva now knew, though he’d always seemed friendly enough — but now Kesst was frowning too, and giving a distasteful little shudder. “Ugh,” he replied. “That delusional old codger.”
“Ach,” Rathgarr said gloomily. “Just so.”
Geva was definitely not following now, her eyes darting back and forth between them. “What’s wrong with Sken?” she asked. “He’s always seemed perfectly lovely to me.”
Kesst and Rathgarr exchanged a baleful look, and then shuddered in unison this time. “Sken has the old Ash-Kai gift of farsight,” Kesst replied flatly. “Or at least, he thinks he does. Grim says he’s a gift from the gods, and that he’s never guided him wrong! While in reality, Sken just likes wandering about making cryptic pronouncements, and watching everyone jump to attention. One time, he told me that if I wasn’t careful, I’d become one of the deadliest orcs in this mountain! Or another time” — Kesst jabbed an irritated finger at Rathgarr — “he told Eft, with gravest concern, that he needed to watch out for recklessratssneaking in the tunnels!”
Rathgarr blinked for an instant, his eyes very briefly darting down toward Geva, before grimacing, and shaking his head. “Ach,” he said, though he didn’t sound quite as certain as before. “Rubbish.”
But Kesst was watching him very intently now, and perhaps kicking him under the table, too. “So?” he said, a little too offhandedly. “What did Sken tell you, then?”
Rathgarr sighed again, and dropped a furtive glance down toward where his hands had again spread wide on Geva’s belly. “He said,” he began heavily, “that our son shall one day become the greatest healer in the realm.”
There was a moment’s shocked silence, Geva included — until it was broken by Kesst’s loud, incredulous laugh. “What? No. That’s rubbish.”
“Ach!” Rathgarr replied, with a wild-looking wave of his hand, before it clenched back to Geva’s belly again. “Rubbish!”
Kesst fervently nodded, though he also shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Did he saywhyhe saw that?” he demanded. “Oh — wait. Is it because” — he again jabbed a finger toward Rathgarr — “ofyourrubbish healing? Because your healing is rubbish, Rath, it does not evencountwhen you can only heal yourself and your mate! And in fact, I’m still not convinced it’s not entirely a figment of your arrogant self-indulgent imagination!”
This entire point about the healing had been an ongoing source of discord between the two of them, since apparently Rathgarr’s abilities hadn’t manifested — or perhaps he just hadn’t noticed — until well after he’d been exiled from the mountain. And since, unlike Efterar, Rathgarr was entirely incapable of healing on command, Kesst had given it all very little credence — though he was still looking distinctly unsettled, and watching very carefully as Rathgarr rubbed at his mouth.
“I ken,” Rathgarr finally replied. “But Sken did not say it is because of me, ach? He said it is because my first son” — he waved sharply toward Kesst — “has stolen the eye of the realm’s greatest healer, and thus forever ended his line! So the gods have seen fit to visit mysecondson with his rightful heir instead!”
There was another moment of stunned silence, in which Kesst visibly paled, and shook his head. “Good gods,” he said blankly. “That can’t be possible.”
“Ach,” Rathgarr agreed, with a wince. “No.”
Another beat of silence stretched between them, and Kesst shifted in his chair again, his mouth pursed. “Do you want,” he began offhandedly, “to try asking Joarr? Or maybe bringing in Nattfarr?”
Joarr and Nattfarr both also bore Seeing gifts, Geva now knew — though she’d also learned that Nattfarr’s, in particular, were given a wide berth by most Ash-Kai, who strongly preferred to keep their secrets safe. And unsurprisingly, Rathgarr had barked a deep, disapproving growl, his hands spasming against Geva’s waist. “No!” he replied. “No. And mayhap we never speak of this again also, ach?”
But by this point, Geva was feeling decidedly lost, and she sat up a little straighter on Rathgarr’s lap, frowning back and forth between them. “Forgive me, but what is the issue here, exactly?” she asked. “Efterar’s skills are truly marvellous, and have likely savedhundredsof lives. Shouldn’t we be pleased that our son might be so gifted?”
The thought of it — the actual possibility of it — had finally seemed to start sinking in, and she felt her hands sliding almost reverently against Rathgarr’s on her belly. While across from them, Kesst gave a frantic flail of his hands, and then leapt up from the table, pacing back and forth.
“Yes, Eft is brilliant, sister,” he snapped, “but have you notseenhis life? Heneverstops working! If it weren’t for me, he would never eat or sleep, let alone actually enjoy himself, ever! He is forever trapped in the horrible thrall of all the fool orcs in those arenas who think it’s aspectacularidea to murder each other for fun on a daily basis!”
Rathgarr was rapidly nodding too, his mouth curling with distaste. “If the gods wish to gift us,” he said, “I should much prefer true farsight, or better yet, another galdr-spinner! Why not a lovely silver-tongued galdr-spinner, to carry onKesst’sline?!”
