“It was like — what you said with Sigarr and Abjorn,” she gulped, her prickling eyes fixed on Kesst’s blank, watching face. “I didn’t want to lose — what I had. But in doing it, I only made Rathgarr mistrust me more. It was part of our deal, you see, the better job I did, the more he would pay me — so he thought I was only doing it all for the coin. He thought” — she glanced at Rathgarr, a new, bitter awareness curdling with all the rest — “he thought I’d learned about the hoard. He thought I wanted it, like your mother did. And now…”
She swallowed hard, shaking her head, because what now? What happened next? Was there even a way out of this anymore?
“Now, I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to trust each other again,” she said, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Not after so many lies and secrets. He’ll never, ever stop wondering if I only want his wealth. And gods” — something caught in her throat, and she had to wipe the wetness from her eyes — “I still don’t even know if helikesme.”
The room had gone entirely silent around her, except for the sounds of her own faint, muffled sniffs. Her throat swallowing again and again, fighting against the lump steadily rising inside it. And she couldn’t even bear to look at Rathgarr now, or Kesst, or any of them, because what must they think of her, after she’d lied to all of them?
“Ach, Miss Gee,” cut in a voice across the room, and when Geva blinked toward it, it was Timo. Still standing there with Trygve and Thrain and John, and witnessing her utter, humiliating defeat.
“Ach, Rathgarr likes you, Miss Gee,” Timo said, his voice serious, his eyes surprisingly grave. “You ought to scent him, whenever he is around you, or whenever he looks at you. When you dance with him, or play your drum, he —”
Thrain’s hand abruptly clapped over Timo’s mouth, and he flashed Geva a rueful little smile. “That’s enough, Timo,” he said lightly. “We’ve all scented this, ach?”
Oh. They were saying — oh. And the surge of sudden, bittersweet gratefulness was so strong that Geva felt faint, and she felt her eyes furiously blinking, her shaky hand signing,thank you. Thank you.
Timo gave a small smile back, but then his eyes flicked beyond her, toward Sune. To where Sune was swiftly signing something up at Ulfarr and Killik, who were now exchanging a meaningful look, before both glancing at Geva again.
“Ach, well, we thankyoufor your tale, Ash-Kai,” Killik said, with a distinct emphasis on theyou, and a slight bow of his head toward her. “So what comes next in your tale? What shall our sly Ash-Kai brothers do, now that they have finally clutched all this gold in their greedy claws?”
Right. Because now the gold was theirs. Rathgarr’s, and Kesst’s. Grimarr had promised it, publicly, before what must have been a hundred orcs. And Kesst was blinking blankly around at the room full of treasure, as if he hadn’t quite seen it before, and Geva didn’t miss the sight of him swaying, slowly tilting sideways — but suddenly Rathgarr was there, catching him, holding him steady and firm.
“We must send for Efterar,” Rathgarr said, his voice flat and thin. “Timo, Trygve, could you fetch him, please? And some food and fresh water, also?”
Timo quickly nodded and dashed toward the door, with Trygve close behind him. And after a purposeful little nudge from Killik, Sune took off too, disappearing out the door after them. While Thrain, who had been watching all this with his mouth pursed, went to grab one of the hoard’s many chairs — a beautiful, polished specimen of smooth black wood — and stalked over, setting it in front of Kesst with athunk.
Kesst gazed unseeing down toward it, as if he couldn’t quite follow what was happening, so Rathgarr carefully eased him down into it, his hands grasping brief but firm on Kesst’s shoulders, and then pulling away again. But as he did so, Kesst visibly flinched, his body twitching back toward Rathgarr’s, his eyes squeezing shut.
Rathgarr kept blinking down toward him, his eyes suddenly so bright, so sad. And with a careful, tentative movement, he brushed his hand against Kesst’s hair. Gently, briefly combing it with his claws, before drawing away again.
But Kesst had again twitched at the loss of it, his head tilting back just slightly toward Rathgarr behind him. So Rathgarr did it again, combing a little deeper this time, drawing out the long, silken black strands through his fingers.
Kesst audibly exhaled at that, his stiff shoulders very slightly sagging, and Geva could see Rathgarr’s throat convulsing, his body moving closer behind Kesst. And then he began combing in earnest, drawing his claws down the full length of Kesst’s shining black hair, again and again. Moving with an easy, thoughtless familiarity that suggested they’d done this many, many times before.
“Should you mayhap find me some beads, poppet?” came Rathgarr’s low voice, making Geva startle — but yes, yes, he was looking at her. His eyes so dark, so sad, almost pleading on her face. As if this was about far more than just some beads, and Geva managed a curt little nod, and lurched on unsteady feet back toward the other part of the room. Toward where Thrain and John were standing, watching, but she fought to ignore them as she began searching through the mess of jewels and coins and gold, seeking out some beads.
It was something to do, if nothing else, and Geva could distantly appreciate Rathgarr’s kindness in offering her that, even as another part of her couldn’t stop marvelling at the shocking abundance beneath her trembling, searching hands. There was just so much, so many jewels and gems and coins, and she could have laughed at the sight of her hand accidentally knocking aside a haphazard pile of ten-piece coins, just the kind Rathgarr had taunted her with, the kind she’d worked so hard to earn. But she just kept searching, moving through the mess, until she finally found a basket full of beads. Of multiple different sizes and colours, metal and glass and even shells, surely worth multiple years’ salary, just pooling around her fingers.
But this was for Kesst, her — no, not her brother, maybe even not even her friend anymore. And she felt her eyes prickling again as she picked out some beads, one by one by one, until her hand was full.
“What do you think of these?” she asked Rathgarr, her voice stilted, once she’d gone back over to him, her eyes on her hand. “I thought the silver colour might look well, against his skin.”
Rathgarr’s hands slightly faltered against Kesst’s hair, against where he’d already parted it, folding strands carefully over one another. “Ach, these are good,” he said, very quiet. “Thank you, poppet.”
Geva nodded, still not looking up at him, but still not seeming able to move, either. Just watching, her eyes still blank and prickling, as Rathgarr’s deft, familiar hands kept braiding Kesst’s silken, shining hair, piece by piece.
“So have you thought,” Rathgarr’s quiet voice continued, “of what you might next wish to do? Or what you might wish to ask for?”
Geva’s breath drew in and out, her throat swallowing, her eyes still held on his braiding hands. While a resigned, distant part of her noted that maybe he’d sent her into the hoard to make sure she’d seen it. To test what she would say next. Whether she would maybe begin negotiating, demanding part of it, as was her due.The more help and plunder you grant me,the more I shall pay you.
And even if it was all destroyed now, Rathgarr still had the plunder. She’d still helped him with this, surely, even if only with that request she’d made of Grimarr.Rathgarr should be reinstated as one of his father’s heirs, in case any of it ever comes to light again. And by rights, she could demand a percentage of it. She could become a very wealthy woman, living in a beautiful, well-appointed house, and never work a day as a governess again.
But gazing down toward the beads, glinting in her fingers, there was only a stark, sinking sadness. The hoard was tainted. It had been stolen, used to tear an entire family apart. It had destroyed their trust in one another, and perhaps their ability to trust anyone else, too. To the point where, perhaps, plots and agreements and terms were the only way they could bear it.
And as much as it had hurt to hear of all the ways Rathgarr had lied to her… hehadkept to the terms they’d agreed upon, at the start of all this. He’d never faltered in caring for her. He’d kept her safe and fed and clothed. He’d been… generous. Kind. A good father, and a good teacher to her orclings. A helpmate.
And now, he was offering her the payment. Just as he’d promised.
“Then… I’d like to establish terms,” Geva finally replied, quiet. “A new agreement, between us.”
