Kalfr’s brows rose, his eyes gleaming as he glanced toward Raye — and the hunger instantly simmered in her belly, even as Gaelfr’s words jangled strangely through her skull.She owes us both. She owes us both…
And though she knew it was just teasing — it was, right? — a sudden, slithering darkness curled into the warmth andthe longing. Because… shedidowe them. She’d sworn that vow to do whatever it took. And Gaelfr was only doing all this on the condition that she keep that vow. He was still planning toleave, if she failed. As for Kalfr, he was still planning to sacrifice himself for this, wasn’t he? He was still planning to leave, too. Not only that, but he’d also made it excessively clear that he still wanted Raye’s penance, and her punishment.
And she needed to remember that, no matter what they said, no matter how much happy surveying and training they did together.I should never have dreamt he could find worse than you…
But gods, it was easy to forget. Especially once they all headed back to thebyrgitogether, and found it full of their cheerfully chattering new bandmates, and the mouthwatering scents of seasoned meat and vegetables. Someone had already set the table, and brought in various new stumps and stones to add beside the benches, and covered them with soft furs. There were also fresh flowers in chipped mugs scattered throughout thebyrgi, and a roaring fire in the fireplace, and for a breath, as Raye stood and blinked at it all, flanked by Kalfr and Gaelfr and their son, it almost felt like…home.
“Vörður!” exclaimed a familiar orc — Eyolf, tugging Iyolf behind him, and beaming toward Kalfr’s face. “We did not expect ale and mead, did we, Iyolf? Nor such a feast for our first night in ourbyrgi!”
A feast? Raye glanced over toward the cookstove, to where Grum was surrounded by various steaming dishes, his bearded face flushed a deep red. And on the counter behind him, there were several large barrels, too, and Egil was pouring out frothing mugs of ale. As if this truly was a feast, and beside her, Kalfr didn’t look at all surprised by this, did he?
“Ach, we wished to celebrate together, and honour our good band,” Kalfr replied, loud enough that his voice carried over thehubbub. “And we have our battle-captain to thank for granting us such gifts.”
His grin toward Gaelfr was quick and stunning, and Gaelfr’s grin back was even broader, lighting up his face. “It is our gift to us all, together,” he said back, his deep voice also ringing throughout the room. “Now let us feast and be merry, and honour our goddess this night!”
The orcs’ cheers and stomps rang through the room, and Raye soon found herself thoroughly caught up in the evening’s festivities. The ale was tangy and thick, and Grum’s cooking turned out to be even better than Kalfr had promised — braised herbed rabbit, tender salted ham, stuffed mushrooms, fermented cabbage, roasted beets, and some kind of nut bread. And though several of the dishes were entirely new to Raye, it was lovely to sample them together with Kalfr and Gaelfr and Svein, and to see the alternating confusion and delight flash across Svein’s eyes as he chewed.
During the meal, Kalfr also went around the table, asking each of the band’s orcs to share updates on their day’s activities. It turned out that Rurik and Julian had finished setting up the sickroom, while Soren and William had already isolated several promising locations for an underground well, and a new exit, too. And Eyolf and Iyolf had begun to work with Grum on the food harvesting and storage plans, and apparently, late that afternoon in the garden, Iyolf had made a new friend — a small, smellyskunk.
“A skunk?!” Svein exclaimed, with mingled glee and horror. “And he didn’t spray you?”
Iyolf blinked and curled his lip, as though even the idea was absurd, while Eyolf beamed proudly toward him. “Myástvinurhas always well understood animals, have you not, Iyolf?” he said. “This is why he has never liked hunting, and much prefers gardening. So when Kalfr offered this place to us here, andpromised us no hunting, and tasty vegetables to eat at every meal, we could not refuse this, ach?”
He grinned toward Kalfr, and only then did Raye notice that both Eyolf and Iyolf’s plates were lacking any of Grum’s delicious meat dishes whatsoever. Which seemed an unusual choice for a pair of orcs, but Kalfr smiled back with distinct fondness in his eyes, and he gave a companionable clasp to Iyolf’s shoulder. “We are most glad you both came to us,” he said. “Your gift is surely from the goddess, brother, and we all ought to honour this.”
Iyolf’s mouth softened into something more like a smile than Raye had seen from him yet, while Eyolf shot Kalfr a warm, grateful look. And watching them, Raye’s heartbeat skipped with more of that dangerous hope, that longing. Kalfr really was good at this. He was a clever, thoughtful, generous leader, who’d clearly earned the trust of all these orcs. And she wanted to keep ignoring those whispers of doubt. She wanted to keep learning to trust him, too.
So she stayed close by Kalfr’s side as the evening progressed, talking and laughing with him and Gaelfr and Svein and the band. And once night had fully fallen, and Othan had brought out his rounded drum, Raye settled on the sofa to listen, tucked between Kalfr and Gaelfr, with an increasingly sleepy Svein curled up on her lap.
“What would you have me play?” Othan asked Kalfr in his deep pleasing voice, as he adjusted the drum’s skin, and smoothed his big hand over it. “A Bautul war-march, mayhap?”
Beside Raye, Kalfr smiled back, and shook his head. “No, play whatever you please, Othan,” he said. “Though” — his eyes flicked across the room — “if Fengr might wish to dance for us, this would be most welcome, also.”
Raye had noticed that Fengr had hidden himself away underground for most of the day, and even now was still keepinghis distance, hovering sullenly at the gathering’s edges, and nursing his mug of ale. He certainly hadn’t betrayed any hint whatsoever that he would welcome being asked to perform, so Raye was surprised to see his head snapping up, as a glint of baleful satisfaction flared in his eyes.
“You are sure you wish me to dance for you,vörður?” he coolly asked. “Mayhap we ought to send away the youngling first?”
He darted a meaningful look toward Svein on Raye’s lap, enough that she stiffened and frowned back — what kind of dance was Fengr suggesting, exactly? But again, Kalfr shook his head, and gave Fengr an encouraging smile. “I told you, none of us shall expect that sort of dance from you,” he said, with a warning glance toward a sulky-looking Skirvir. “We shall welcome whatever most pleases you to share with us. For we only wish to honour your gifts, and your great skill.”
Raye was feeling fully lost now, but after a poisonous glance of his own toward Skirvir, Fengr inclined his head, plucked something out of the pack he’d been holding, and stalked forward into the centre of the room. And when he curtly gestured at Othan, flicking his fingers in an indication of the tempo he wanted, Othan began striking his hands against his drum, thudding a bright, steady beat throughout the hushed room.
And then — Fengr twisted, andleapt. His lean body spun fully in midair, his feet flying over his head, while the entire room gasped — but then he landed again, upright on his feet. While something else shot up into the air — no, three things, three flashing steel bars, each about as long as his forearm. But before they could fall to the floor, he caught them all, one by one, amidst another fluid leap, and hurled them up again.
On Raye’s lap, Svein had bolted wide wake, staring with his mouth open, and the rest of the room had gone utterly silent,too. All of them watching, rapt and disbelieving, as Fengr kept leaping and flipping, throwing the bars up into the air, higher and higher. Until Raye could scarcely see them, whirling with flashes of silver up in thebyrgi’s rafters, but Fengr caught them every single time, moving with impossible grace and ease.
“How’s he doing that?” Svein asked, in a far-too-loud whisper that still rang out over Othan’s steady drumbeat. “Is it magic, Mama?”
A few of the orcs chuckled, and Raye couldn’t help a choked laugh, too. “It must be,” she whispered back. “I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s incredible, isn’t he?”
Perhaps she imagined it, but Fengr’s eyes flicked toward her as he caught his bars with a flourish, hurled them up again, and kicked off into one more impossible leap. His body twisting and turning in the air again and again, so fast Raye could scarcely follow — until finally, he landed in a deep, sweeping crouch, his arms outstretched, his bare chest heaving with his breaths.
For an instant, the room was utterly silent — Othan’s hands were hovering over his drum, waiting — until beside Raye, Kalfr let out a loud, shrill whistle, and stomped his feet. Gaelfr joined him next, hollering a deep war cry, as Othan’s hands began rapidly pattering against his drum. Soon the rest of the room joined in too, Raye and Svein included, clapping and cheering while Fengr blinked back toward them, his body very straight, his chin held high.
“Thank you, Fengr,” Kalfr said, in a carrying voice, once the noise had subsided again. “And you also, Othan. Your gifts have brought great joy to us all this night.”
Fengr stiffly nodded, and then swiped up his pack and strode out, his bars still clenched tightly in his hand. And though the rest of the orcs’ voices slowly began rising again, Raye still felt too stunned to speak.
“So — was Fengrnotdancing like that, before?” she finally asked Kalfr. “Why in the gods’ name not? That wasspectacular.”
