Part Thirty-eight
Kato was a curious individual and he was observant. Sometimes he might blatantly announce his observations, and at other times, he preferred to keep the knowledge in mind for later use. He was not certain how best to deal with this Man. Kato did not like to see Beryl out of sorts, but a foreigner, however well endowed of finances or heroic, would not be wise to insult a local noble.
"You are most observant and well educated in lore to know a Halfling in two moment's time. I am not so unworldly myself, Lord Marshal. You need not fear for me while in Beryl's company. I have hired him as my bodyguard on this expedition precisely for his particular skills and experience. I tend to keep him close, especially when I intend to sleep, and so I must politely ask, why you have disturbed me in my room. Does the King summon us, perhaps? If not, I shall like to go back to my bed and keep my guard with me, so I will be refreshed when the King does call for me."
"So, this is another in the party. There are three more I have not yet met. Are you their cook, Master Halfling?"
"Caerig Winnan at your service, or Kato if you please. In truth, I read maps and navigate our course. Though my people are not well known travelers, we know land and we have a particular attention to small details and so excel at map reading and making. Yet, I am not inhospitable. Are you hungry? May I offer you some food from my stores, as you have made yourself a guest in my room?"
"Did you pick the lock, or smile at a maid to accomplish making yourself our guest?" Beryl asked from the bed.
"That red-haired Elf said you were drunk and I do believe he was correct." Reif walked toward the bed Beryl lay in, ignoring Kato for the moment. "I swear you look younger every time I see you. Covering all the grey now, are you?"
"What grey? I do not know of what you speak." Of course, Beryl knew, and it was not a matter of wanting to hide truth from Kato, because Kato happened to be aware that Beryl was an Elf aged enough to have grey hair. Beryl was simply determined to resist agreeing with Reif.
"Still hiding these ears?"
Beryl closed his eyes and tried not to believe that it felt very good to have fingers gently caress the points of his ears. "You reek of stable boy!"
"Jealous, or are you so insecure about your appearance you are saying I am full of shite?"
"It serves my purposes to disguise my age and race from time to time."
"For one so aged, a lifetime must seem but a moment to wear a disguise."
Beryl winced and bit his lip. Sometimes, at moments just like this one, Beryl doubted himself very much. He thought perhaps he had not happened upon a good way to live and that there was something terribly wrong with him. Perhaps he should be like normal Elves and gracefully depart for the west before the stress of too many ages in a mortal land showed in him. Sometimes it seemed a dependency, this need to manage immortality by breaking it into invented lifetimes, this need to love, to see himself in some youthful intelligent being's eyes and then say goodbye. It seemed sad when Reif was around, sick.
Yet Beryl knew, he did not feel like this every day. He knew it, in the part of his mind that remembered many ages, was wise and logical, that mortality was not an inherently evil thing. The Gods had sung the world into being, with all it's seasons, and in the absence of their lights, had sung the Sun and Moon into being to make mortals wonder. Perhaps, or surely, they had even sung stars into being to dazzle the First Race. Men could not often appreciate the beauty of it all. In a lifetime, they might witness the joyful renewal of life in their children, but not all did. If an Elf could live in mortal lands and behold the chaotic weave of life and death and day and night and all the passing seasons and ages and feel joy and know the Gods through their work, then it must not be wrong.
And if he departed, jokes about former loves forgotten, he would only ever know a small part of the story, as the world yet remained. That would be sad. Some Elf, somewhere, should know the story to sing it.
No part of Beryl's mind could fathom why this one Man had such power over him. Youth was a powerful lure. Perhaps it was just that. Beryl had wandered into a land from between lifetimes and seen this boy and his golden-haired cousin riding hard over grassy plains and fallen in love. It had probably not been the boy, but the idea of such vitality and freedom. The romance of this country. Making that boy a lover when he came of age was likely the misstep on his path. If not, revealing his true nature was.
Yet, regret did not stop it from feeling good when Reif's breath touched the back of his neck, even as it felt bad. "Please. Do not do this. Not in front of Kato."
"He seems very well mannered, so I am certain he will avert his gaze."
Kato laughed loudly and Beryl felt suddenly as if he had a breath of fresh air after a journey through an Orc-infested tunnel though mountains. He could laugh.
Of course, all the liquor in his did not much agree with the laughter and Beryl felt rather nauseated.
"Well mannered says nothing of tendency for voyeuristic thrill, Marshal," Kato said lightly, "I am not only likely to watch. I am likely to mention what I observe at a most inconvenient time for you."
Kato distracted Reif enough that Beryl was able to pull himself up from the bed. He took the sheet above with him, as clothing, and swayed as he walked to the window. The stable air nearby could not make him feel any more sick. Outside there were also trees, flowers, grasses, water, wind, stars...birds.
Beryl gasped for a breath as if the sea were swallowing him and all the land beneath him. And feel joy, Beryl told himself, that any survived, while you mourn those that did not.
The birds.
"Kato, you must go. Find Dale. Tell him to expect our two visitors soon."
Kato did not leave, but brought Beryl a waterskin and basket of medicinal herbs. "You must excuse us now, Marshal, we have important matters to attend to and must not be waylaid. I have no doubt, we will see you again tomorrow, before the King."
"I do not know why you ran off, but I thought you would be a little more glad to see me again...you old fool."
"I am an old fool," Beryl whispered.
Kato watched Reif let himself out of their room. "Wise to see it and admit it. My people are most notorious for getting involved in adventures with old fools, so be assured I shall not desert you."
"He is gone now, Caerig. Go to Dale, quickly, and warn him. Return to me then, if you wish. Dale will have to deal with them himself tonight."
"Only without your help, not alone," Kato said as he moved toward the door.
Beryl nodded, but he expected Duma was going to make things difficult for Dale, even if the others may be helping him.
Duma stooped on the ground in the shadows of a building, listening to the scrapes beneath the earth and wondering what weapon he would use if they forced him to fight. Duma hoped Dale stayed too drunk to track or follow him. It would be bad if Dale found him, especially bad if Dale came after the other two had made their way under the wall.
It had not been very difficult to decide the best place to wait. Duma knew about earth, rocks and tunneling and since he had been spawned beneath the sky and recently traveling, much knowledge of terrain and landforms was coming back to him. Deciding the waiting place was only a matter of anticipating where Dog would decide the best locations for a tunnel were and then going to those places to determine whether there were many noises of Men the Orcs would hear through the walls. Finally, Duma had put an ear to the ground and listened.
He knew they were coming; it was only a short matter of time before the tunnel was through. Dog had chosen a decent location, from an infiltrating Orc's point-of-view. They would be digging into an area where gutters had been dug behind buildings for the emptying of waste and wash water. The outlet from the city itself was barred and guarded, but the gutters away from the drain were not watched and in fact avoided by most not assigned to dump. This part of the city in particular seemed less populated. The tannery was nearby, and a forge.
Duma thought he could see the soft earth just the other side of the gutter shifting. He removed his coat; Dale had slit the back and made some fastenings so that Duma could remove the coat or put it on again even with his quiver strapped to his back. As much as he argued with Dale or resented him, Duma could admit that Dale always made sure that he was well equipped.
Duma laid the coat aside and considered his strategy again. When the others made him train and do tasks for them, they often scolded him and said it was a failing of Orcs to rely too much on instinct and the orders of others. One who would survive a battle had to fight with more than instinct. They needed to think.
Duma understood that smart Orcs survived, but he did not really understand all this thinking and strategy as well as the others seemed to think he should. Duma supposed they might be correct, as they always won when sparring against him.
I do not want to choose a side, Duma thought. I do not wish to fight other Orcs, but I cannot let them come into the Men city.
He was getting better with a bow and in his own clothing, with only a bracer on his left arm, at least he would not do something very stupid like catch the arrowhead on his sleeve, or bruise his own ear trying to draw the arrows over his shoulder one after the other.
He owned three knives now. The sharpest was made of obsidian and presently concealed in a pocket Dale had sewn into his left boot for him. The strongest and largest was strapped to his quiver. A more slender knife was hanging from his belt.
Dog usually carried a bow and probably had at least one knife. Little Mine-dwellers did not usually carry swords, unless they were short ones taken from dead Dwarves. Duma was not sure what weapons Ugarit might carry. He knew they were the ones that followed, though, he could not understand why Marduk would send the Precious Thing out after them.
Duma saw a rat sniffing at the ground, come to look for a meal in the gutter. He took his bow from his back and then one arrow. There was a slight rattle, but he tried to be as silent as possible. Lenaduiniel said an archer in wait should be able to drawn an arrow and aim without a sound.
The ground shifted. The bow creaked as Duma straightened his arm. The rat scurried through the gutter. Dog looked through the loose earth and saw the strange one aiming a bow toward him. Duma released the arrow with a breath. The rat was struck off his feet and landed near Dog's dirty, half-concealed fingers.
"Take the meat and go back now. I think it is stupid when Orcs fight other Orcs, but I will fight you if you try to come into this city while I am here."
"You are only half-Orc, so it is only half stupid to disagree, but not stupid at all if I think we will win." Dog crawled up from the ground, dirt falling from his body and cloak. Duma could see the gleam of a knife in his right hand. Duma made as if to draw an other arrow and drew his knife instead. He swung his bow onto his back with his left arm. Lenaduiniel had made him practice the moves so many times, drawing, readying the bow, replacing the bow, returning arrows to the quiver, drawing knives. Over and over. It had seemed pointless.
"I told you I do not want to fight you. I even gave you meat. You should go before Dale comes."
"He is not coming. He would not let you come talk to us alone. He must not know."
"Fool, he always knows. Do you not understand? I tried to warn you. He has spies. He knows if you follow. He knows how many follow. He knows where you are. He will come. I am doing you a favor in arriving first to warn you."
"You stopped leaving messages. Why should I listen to you? You are supposed to do what Marduk says, like me."
Duma flicked his eyes from Dog to Ugarit to Dog again. It was always
a challenge to track two enemies at once. It was not like sparring. He
did not know these two would draw their blows. It was not like facing
horse thieves with allies to watch with you. Duma suspected Dog had it
in mind to really hurt him. He did not know why.
Duma growled. Ugarit glanced toward him and then casually began to skin
the rat with her knife, as if not concerned with their argument. "Marduk
says learn Death-Shadow's plan. Marduk says help defeat our enemies. I
am doing what Marduk says. You are interfering. You are...a complication."
"He no sound much like Orc," Ugarit said. "He no look much like an Orc. Too pale. Funny nose. Dark eyes."
Duma clacked the bar in his tongue against his teeth. "We cannot all be pretty little mottled green Mine-dwellers like Dog, but my blood is just as black as yours."
"Pretty?" Dog asked.
Duma smiled. Talking was not really his plan, but it was better than having them both trying to kill him. "My preference may be for willing females, but I can tell you are pretty for your breed. I know now that I look very strange, but I also know that with my ears covered I can pass as an Elf in a Man city and that I can convince a female to be willing, so I do not really care that I do not look like an Orc should. I also know how to befriend Dwarves, so, though I am willing to do what Marduk asks, if you do not let me do my work as I wish, then I will forget Marduk and find a Man city to live in and make a living buying jewels from Dwarves and selling jewelry to Men. Some Men pierce their ears, and I was our Master of Piercing..."
"Only because the old Master of Piercing got hewn by that bloody Dwarf Ranger!"
"Do no shout and hiss," Ugarit said calmly as she picked rat flesh from bone with her claws. "It is only a few hours before Yellowface shows himself."
"Her. The Sun is female," Duma said.
"That is stupid," Dog said. "Why would Yellowface be female?"
"She just is. Silverface is male."
"How would she know she is willing if you do not try to take her?" Ugarit asked.
"Yellowface?"
"You said you can convince a female to be willing. How does she know, unless you try to take her before she is willing?"
"He does not know. No female of any race would want one that is half Orc and half Elf."
"It is not polite to speak of such things publicly...and agreeing to share is done privately...and no one else needs know who you have been with."
"You should do whatever Death-shadow wants of you, because even if you do as Marduk orders, you will not be able to keep me when he offers me to you."
"You cannot tell him to obey Death-shadow!" Dog insisted.
"You know?" Duma whispered. "You knew Marduk offered you...?"
"Other females knew, and they told me. If you do what Marduk orders, he will offer me to you. You do not even know how to take a female, you black-blooded Elf! You males all think that I would let the half-Orc to take me! He cannot say how he makes females willing."
"Do you think I was going to help Marduk just to get you? I am half Elven. I am not certain I am attracted to Orc females!"
Ugarit hissed loudly. "Filthy Elf's-cream! I have to fight this one off and I am not even full grown!"
"I did not try to take her! I know she belongs to Marduk!"
Dale lay on a nearby rooftop and yawned. "They are all stupid Orcs. I could have shot them all full of arrows long ago. If they carry on much longer Men will be upon them."
"What will you do if that happens?" Tsuki asked.
"Watch them all scurry down that hole. I will miss Duma, but I can let him go if I must. Look at him. He is so much trouble. What would he do if I were not here to pick off the other two?"
"You are drunk and half asleep. Exactly what he does. He does not know you are here to aid him."
"Do you think she is pretty for an Orc?"
"How would I know? Is she the same one we saw before?"
"She has grown quickly and the sun has darkened her color now. You see, the shape of her ears and the dappled pigmentation is Northern breed, but the kinky hair and her size marks her as one of those Westerners, and the deeper coloring."
"Is her coloring strange? It seems the Orcs I have seen look sort of black or green. This Ugarit is rather bluish."
"It is because she is mixed breed. The ones that are newly spawned or birthed now will likely be mixed, because the Westerners are male and the others not."
"Maybe she is pretty for an Orc."
"She might be. Duma should just put his foot in his mouth right now. She is only two heads shorter than him and she looks angry. Dog does not seem he could take Duma in a knife fight, but if she distracts Duma long enough for him to ready his bow, Duma may take a few wounds before I can rescue him."
Duma was angry. They did not understand that he risked himself to help them. They did not appreciate it. They did not even take advantage of him like sensible Orcs. He had not wanted to insult Ugarit specifically; it was a matter of fact that he may not be very attracted to Orcs and had nothing to do with the girl-Orc.
Tsuki said that anger might be one's second reason to fight, but it could not be the first. If one fought only because they were angry, they lost. Duma knew he had never stopped Dale from laughing at him, no matter how frustrated and angry he got. It was easier for them to disarm him when he got angry.
Do not be angry, Duma told himself. Use instinct, but remember also to think.
Ugarit threw the remains of the rat at Duma and the carcass struck his head. Duma snarled and growled at her, before he regained any hold on his anger.
Think. Dog is going to shoot you, Duma told himself. He knew Ugarit might cut him if he was not careful. He was armored, though lightly, while she was not armored at all. That was something to consider.
Duma was snorting breaths and barely able to reason. Orc instinct told him there was battle, blood would be spilled, and that he must fight. The only thing that stopped him from striking first was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that asked, "Will you feel better if you kill the girl and the dog?"
Ugarit moved first. She ran at Duma with one knife in her right hand and he saw her attack and understood her intent. Duma tossed his knife to his left hand, drew the second knife from his belt just soon enough to block Ugarit's low slash, then brought the larger knife to her throat. Ugarit's left hand reached for the hem of her skirt, to draw her second knife, but Duma shifted his weight and drew his leg up against hers, such that she lost her balance and fell to the ground. Duma crouched over her, his knee pinning her thigh, thus trapping her knife sheath between her leg and the ground, just as Dog's arrow flew to the place Duma had been a second before, taking a few strands of Duma's hair that flagged behind.
Duma pressed his knife to the inside of Ugarit's wrist, to force her knife hand from him. She continued clawing at him, but the scratches were prevented by his leather sleeve or else ignored.
Duma knew he was completely vulnerable to Dog's attacks and must get away from the girl-Orc. Ugarit wished she had not asked how Duma made females willing and fought with herself not to scream, because she had been told Men would treat her worse than any Orc and she believed. Ugarit did not understand how this half-Orc had blocked her attacks so well. He fought like an Elf, she decided, cleverly avoiding pain rather than rushing into battle joyfully...except she had black blood on her hands. Trust one who was a filthy pet and worked their way up ranks to be able to take pain, the other females told her.
If she let Dog kill Duma now, then she would be rescued and weaker even than the Cheiftain's pet. Ugarit did not want Dog to be her rescuer, even if he was pretty. He was quite suitable for other uses, but not a worthy keeper of any female Orc. He was not even male.
"Elves and Men say the people of this land treat prisoners well, but if they find any of us here, they will have our heads on pikes along the road. They hate Orcs!" Duma called to Dog. "You must go! Now!"
Dog stood stooped and aiming his bow and arrow at Duma.
Duma growled and took the knife away from Ugarit's wrist to throw it at Dog. The knife was easy for Dog to dodge, but it was a distraction such that he loosed his arrow without aiming. Ugarit had her knife hand free, so she stabbed at Duma, intent on her revenge, and unaware that she might be endangered by Dog's arrow.
Duma took the knife in his left arm and the arrow in his right. He sat up, straddling Ugarit's legs, and pulled her knife from his arm. He glared at Ugarit as he buried the blades of the two knifes he held in the muddy ground at his sides. He braced the arrow in his arm with his left hand and rather awkwardly reached up and snapped the shaft with his right.
"I will go, if you tell me the next place you travel."
"I told you. I do not want to fight."
"You are weak."
"You are stupid," Duma said weakly. He bowed his head and looked at Ugarit. "I will let you go. You should go from this place. If you were full grown, I would not have subdued you so easily, and so regardless of how pretty either of us is, I should have liked to been able to take advantage of knowing you."
Duma was saying she was a valuable sort of Orc that others were stupid to challenge.
"Even so, Marduk is a fool to send you out now. You are precious, and if they find you, it will be bad for all Orcs. You should not have let Dog convince you to enter a Man city."
Ugarit did not understand how Duma knew Dog had suggested it.
"Dog, you are not completely stupid. Go with her now. You are a good enough tracker that you will find us when we leave. Of course, I warn you Dale has spies. And I may not feel so Elvish next we meet. I may tear you apart just for putting a hole in my sleeve."
Duma looked mad, he looked like Death-Shadow, like in a moment he would cackle and dance and Orcs would die every side of him. He was not weak; he held back his strength.
Duma shifted his weight, lifting one knife as he did and then staggering to his feet. He took his bow from his back and tossed it to the ground. Ugarit looked at the bow and at her knife, left there with a rat carcass.
Duma walked steadily toward Dog and, when he came within a short distance of his tracking arrow, stooped to lift his knife from the ground. "You go now, or I will kill you for risking the Clan," Duma hissed. "In a while, I will tell the Men that Orcs have tunneled into their city."
"They will bring out their dogs and find you in the search."
"Concerned?"
"You are as mad as the Elf who spawned you."
Duma closed his eyes and shrugged. At the moment, he wanted to take a bath.
Dale watched from the roof until Dog and Ugarit left the city. He saw the girl-Orc took Duma's bow with her and the tail of the rat as trophies. "Make sure Duma does find his way back to the inn and tends his wounds. I will find that Marshal and tell him there is a tunnel to fill in."
Tsuki nodded and quickly went to the edge of the roof and leapt down.
Maybe Duma was not too much trouble, Dale thought. He did better than Dale; he avoided killing Orcs and still got them to leave him alone. And, Dale noticed, Duma had not given away their destination, or even offered that he would have given the information had he known it.
When Dale had found some local guards awake and informed them of the tunnel, he returned to the inn. Duma had already returned and was in their room. He was sitting on one of the simple beds half-dressed and stunned of appearance, while Tsuki poured water from kettles into the bath to warm the water.
"You need rest, let me help him," Dale said quietly as he closed the door.
"Tsuki can help me."
"I trust him completely, and if he wants to help you when you can use help, that is well enough, but Tsuki is mortal and does not have Elven or Orcish endurance. Think of it how you wish, but let me help you wash then stitch and bind your wounds."
Duma gave a nod and seeing it Tsuki went to another bed and sat to undress.
The bath was ready, so Dale went to Duma. He saw Tsuki had already dug out the arrow wound, but Duma's wounds were still open and he was not trying at all to stop the bleeding.
"You let that girl-Orc tear you up."
Duma was not surprised Dale knew what had happened. "What would a good person do? Hurt her some more? She is not even full grown. Why does Marduk said her?"
"May as well ask why do Men send their boys into battle in time of war? Because there is need for it."
"Elves war as much as Orcs. When Beryl and Kato tell their stories during meals or traveling, they say all the races fight."
"That is true." Dale washed his hands in the basin then prepared a hair and needle to stitch Duma's wounds.
"Then it is not more like an Orc or an Elf to fight. I do not like fighting."
"It was only a little fight. War is much worse than that. Raids and hunts are much worse than what you experienced. The Rangers will fight, but we do it to prevent others from having need of battle. We suffer it so they will not."
"If I stay with you I will learn your plans," Duma said. "If I learn that you intend to war against the Orcs, I will kill you."
Dale laughed. "Vengeance then? For being mislead or trusting in me? Such boasts would seem Orcish, but vengeance is not at all uncommon in Elves."
"Justice. If you have such intentions, it will be just to do it."
"Well then, you better practice fighting all the more, whether you like it or not, because I am very good at it, and you do not yet seem certain of my intentions."
Duma clacked the barbell in his tongue against his teeth.
"You want the marks the girl put all over you to show, or not? How should I make the stitches?"
"I do not care. Just sew."
"It hurts more if I make lots of little stitches to close them neatly."
"I do not fear pain."
"Right."
"Just sew. You are good at sewing. My clothing needs repair."
"I will mend them, Duma, but I would mend you first."
"Thank you."
Dale held his breath a moment and then said, "You're welcome. I
would help you only because you are my child, but you did well tonight;
I do not mind the work."