[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property by Morgan Howell Page B

with water, but the march continued. Dar scanned the sky. It was uniformly dark, and she guessed it would rain for a long while. The heath they were traveling through offered no shelter. There were only a few stunted trees and no habitations at all. It was easy to see why people shunned the place. Springtime had barely touched it, and the bleak landscape remained a somber brown.
    Dar heard heavy footsteps and turned to see Kovok-mah splashing up the road. He slowed when he reached her. “Tava, Dargu.”
    “Tava, Kovok-mah.”
    “This weather makes us think of washuthahi,” said Kovok-mah, who then turned and rejoined the orcs.
    Taren watched him go with a surprised expression. “Well, that’s a first.”
    “What’s washuthahi?” asked Dar.
    “Those black seeds,” said Taren. “I think that orc was hintin’ they’d fancy some.”
    Dar considered Taren’s idea. If orcs believe mothers own the food, they may think it’s improper to ask for it directly . “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “I’ll give them some.”
    Dar jogged up to a wagon and found the box of seeds. She placed some in a bag and waited for the orc column to march up to her. When it did, she gave each orc some washuthahi. Kovok-mah was marching at the column’s rear and when Dar approached him, he slowed his pace so they walked apart from the others.
    Dar held out the seeds. “Muth la urat tha saf la.”
    Kovok-mah’s large, clawed fingers delicately plucked the small black spheres from Dar’s palm. “Shashav Muth la,” he said. Then he added in a softer voice, “Shashav, Dargu.”
    Dar didn’t know what to say next. She looked at the huge orc walking beside her, his frame made even more massive by rusty iron plates, and she thought of how alien he was. An iron helmet hid most of his face, and the portion she saw was unreadable. Yet she knew that she must make some connection. Dar racked her brain for something to say. Eventually, she said, “Mer nav falfli.” I am wet .
    Kovok-mah looked at her. “Hai, zar falfi.” Yes, very wet . After a silent moment, he spoke to Dar in her own tongue. “I think we should speak of things other than weather.”
    “Hai,” said Dar. “You were angry with me last night. Are you still angry?”
    “I do not know washavoki word for how I feel. You are very strange.”
    “You are strange to me, also,” said Dar. “Perhaps when I learn your speech, you will be less so.”
    “I think not,” said Kovok-mah. He paused. “You spoke wisdom last night. There is difference between woe mans and hairy-faced washavokis.”
    “Do the others believe that?”
    “They said you are mother.”
    “Saying something and believing it are different things.”
    “How could that be so?” asked Kovok-mah. “Such speech would have no meaning.”
    “People lie all the time.”
    “What is ‘lie’?”
    “It’s saying something you know is not so.”
    “On purpose?” asked Kovok-mah.
    “Of course on purpose.”
    “Washavokis do this thing?”
    The question seemed so naive that Dar thought Kovok-mah was teasing. Yet he wasn’t smiling, and it dawned on her that he was serious. She was so surprised, it took a moment for her to reply. “Why, yes…we lie all the time.”
    “Do you do this?”
    “I’ve never lied to you,” said Dar, hoping that answer would satisfy him.
    Kovok-mah lapsed into silence, as if he needed to ponder what Dar had said. He put one of the washuthahi seeds in his mouth and chewed it. Eager to change the subject, Dar asked him, “What are those seeds for?”
    “Washuthahi is very good. It makes warmth.”
    Dar reached into the bag and pulled out one of the black, wrinkled spheres. After turning it in her damp fingers and sniffing it, she popped the seed into her mouth and bit down gently. Its shell cracked, releasing a pleasantly spicy flavor that gave the impression of sweetness. “This isn’t bad,” she said. “Do you eat it?”
    “Keep in mouth and chew.”
    As Dar