Jule seemed suitably pleased by this, and soon Geva found herself in the midst of a comprehensive tour of Orc Mountain. Beginning at the top of the mountain in the Ash-Kai wing — each clan had their own designated area suited to their needs, Jule explained — and steadily working their way downwards, through an ever-expanding maze of twisty stone corridors.
And while it was certainly dark, and convoluted, and seemed to indeed house hundreds of orcs, Orc Mountain was once again not at all what Geva had expected. While some areas were pitch-black, many others were well-lit, with either lamps or fires, and the floors were dry and clear, the rooms cozy and well-furnished. A large number of the rooms also seemed focused on some productive purpose, and by the time they’d left the Ash-Kai wing, Geva had already seen a trading-post, a shrine, and a bright, bustling forge. Not only that, but along the way Jule had introduced her to at least a dozen new Ash-Kai orcs, nearly all of them big and scarred and bare-chested — and all of them, to Geva’s surprise, remarkably friendly.
“Rathgarr’s mate, ach?” said one of the smiths, smiling toothily at Geva between steady strikes of his hammer. “Welcome, woman. It is good to see our brother back and settled again.”
This had seemed a common sentiment among the new orcs Jule had introduced so far — an immediate recognition of Rathgarr’s scent on Geva, as well as some sort of genuine-seeming pleasure upon his return. And once again, Geva smiled and curtsied at the orc, and thanked him for his kindness, and then desperately attempted to embed his name and face into her memory as they continued on their way.
“Now, this is the Skai wing,” Jule said, waving Geva into a narrower corridor, with distinctly dimmer lighting than before. “The Skai are typically excellent fighters and spies. They’re very loyal, and committed to keeping our mountain safe.”
Geva couldn’t help comparing that to Rathgarr’s far less complimentary references to the Skai clan, but before she could ask, Jule began eagerly waving at several figures down the corridor. “Hey, Maria! Come meet Geva, will you?”
This Maria turned out to be a striking, golden-skinned, heavily pregnant woman, dressed only in what appeared to be a very large tunic, with a gleaming dagger strapped to her side. And stalking over to stand behind her — Geva blanched — was a frowning, truly gigantic orc, who Maria cheerfully introduced as her mate Simon. He was the most massive orc Geva had seen yet, and certainly the most terrifying — at least, until a small, dark head poked up over his shoulder.
“That is new human,” said a small, high-pitched voice. “She smell different.Lookdifferent.”
Geva blinked, because yes, it was another little orc, maybe eight or nine years old, clinging to Simon’s shoulders with small, pointy claws. And Simon was reaching back to pat the orc’s head, and giving a slow, inscrutable nod. “Ach, little brother,” he said, his voice deep and firm. “Humans have many smells and colours, just as with orcs. Just as with” — his eyes flicked up the corridor, his hand giving a purposeful wave — “Kalfr and us, ach?”
When Geva turned to look, she indeed found another orc striding up the corridor, glancing between them with mild, curious eyes. But unlike the rest of the orcs she’d seen so far, with their greyish or greenish skin, this one’s skin was a deep pearly charcoal, contrasting beautifully with his careful, sharp-toothed white smile.
“Ach, what are we, Simon?” he said politely, with a little bow toward Geva. “And welcome to our home, woman. The whole mountain has been abuzz with news of Rathgarr’s return, and his stunning mate.”
Geva felt herself flushing and waving it away, to which the orc gave an apologetic smile, and glanced inquiringly toward Simon again. Who was now firmly clasping Kalfr on the shoulder, and turning him toward the little orc on his back.
“You ken how Kalfr looks and smells different than we do, also?” Simon asked the little orc, with another gentle pat to his head. “How he is Bautul, and we are Skai, but we are yet brothers? It is just the same with humans. You have only not met all the other human clans yet.”
The little orc frowned intently toward Geva, his nose wriggling, and she felt herself giving him a quick, genuine-feeling smile. “Your — big brother — has the right of it,” she said. “My family is from a clan called Ezira. We usually look like this, with brown skin and curly hair. And we’re often known for our stories, and art and music, and dancing.”
The little orc’s eyes brightened at that, darting eagerly between Geva and Maria. “Marialovedancing,” he informed Geva, with an authoritative nod. “This is how she please Simon, you ken, and earn her keep.”
Simon was quirking a rather devious smile at that, and nudging purposefully at Maria. And after a groan and a roll of her eyes, she indeed kicked up, grasped her heavy-looking belly, and launched into an actualjig, right there in the middle of the corridor.
Geva couldn’t help laughing with the rest of them, but after watching Maria for a moment, she did her best to join in, adding a syncopated hand-clap for good measure. An effort that shot a gratifying flash of delight across the little orc’s watching eyes, and soon he’d scrambled down to join them, too. Adding a few stomps of his own, not quite in the rhythm, but Geva grinned at him anyway, and attempted to stomp along. Until all three of them were flushed and laughing, and poor Maria had finally collapsed into a fond-looking Simon’s arms.
“I am too pregnant to keep doing this, damn it,” she mumbled into his chest, to which Simon swept her bodily up into his huge arms, and pressed a kiss to her flushed forehead.
“You honour me, my Maria,” he said firmly. “Come, and I shall care for you. Bjorn, mayhap you shall…“
He’d glanced uncertainly toward Geva and Jule, but Geva was already smiling again, and nodding down at Bjorn. “Jule and Tengil are taking me on a tour of the Skai wing,” she told him. “Perhaps you’d like to join us? I’m sure, being a Skai yourself, you would have a lot of knowledge to share.”
“This is truth,” Bjorn immediately replied, even as he eyed Kalfr beside him, and then grasped his wrist with his little hand. “And then, I help Kalfr show you the Bautul wing, too. Ach, Kalfr?”
Kalfr stilled for an instant, but then gave a slow, indulgent smile, and allowed himself to be pulled along. And soon Geva was once again engrossed in discovering this astonishing mountain, now with additional amusing — and often cheeky — commentary from Bjorn, tempered by more measured explanations from the kind, soft-spoken Kalfr.
It turned out that the Skai wing was smaller than the Ash-Kai one, but it also included a truly marvellous bathing-pool — the bath Abjorn had mentioned the night before — fed by an actual rushing waterfall, pouring out from the stone above. It also featured a huge, echoing fighting-room — the Skai arena that Rathgarr had mentioned — full of orcs battling and wrestling together. Luckily, after seeing Rathgarr and Killik’ssparring, this wasn’t as shocking as it might have otherwise been, but Geva still winced at the sight of one orc kicking another one in the head, and then crowing with laughter as his hapless opponent slammed sideways into the nearest wall.
“Get him, Joarr!” Bjorn shouted gleefully, and beside him, even Kalfr was dangerously grinning, with a rather feral-looking light in his eyes. While Tengil, who had previously been squirming in Jule’s arms, was now sitting straight up, watching the goings-on with focused, vivid attention.
“Yes, I think we’ve gotten a good look,” Jule said dryly, turning toward the door again. But before they’d stepped outside, the head-kicking orc had bounded over beside them, his arm hooking over Kalfr’s neck, his black brows waggling toward Geva.
“You go next to Bautul garden, new Ash-Kai?” he said with a grin. “See my witch?”
Geva shot an uncertain glance at Jule, who was giving an amused nod. “Yes, we were headed there next,” she said. “Coming along too, then, Joarr?”
This Joarr was already pulling Kalfr ahead of them down the corridor, giving a supremely smug smile over his shoulder. “We have snacks,” he said. “You like.”
It turned out that the garden did have snacks, and it was truly a marvellous place, surrounded by tall stone walls, and tucked in against the mountain’s south side. And though it was now well beyond the regular growing season, the garden still boasted an astonishing variety of plants, trees, fruits, and berries. And working within it were two more new women — the first one tall and dark-haired and slim, but for the prominent swell at her waist, while the other was shorter and plumper, and cradling a small, sleeping orcling against her pale chest.
“Oh, he’s adorable,” Geva said, and the woman beamed back, her hand stroking at his thatch of downy black hair.
