Expiring Covenant (Black Lake Book 1)

Chapter 18
Pazeta

~

I watched the troll, Yoso, ogre Birs, and especially the dwarf, Coedwig, closely. Every muscle in my body tightened, unintended, as though waitin’ for a snake to coil. Often, I shuddered when I caught them peerin’ at me. Wasn’t the mountain chill, though I missed the heat of the desert. I’d been around those of the Hamlet every day since early autumn, experiencin’ no animosity among them. Still, the old stories bubbled up inside me. When the human walked into the nearly completed shop, the skin on the back of my neck vibrated.

Was nonsense to fear these people, but livin’ among them went against every fiber of my bein’. Humans, I was taught, are evil. Primarily because of them, orcs and goblins were left to wither in the eastern desert.

The gentle troll greeted the human warmly. Yoso’s enormous hand folded over the human’s. The newcomer peered up into the troll’s face and placed his left hand over the hand that enveloped his right. I watched their eyes. They expressed a friendship I can’t yet understand.

Respect between human and a troll. Doesn’t seem right. Trolls were somewhat aligned with orcs and goblins durin’ the wars—not true allies, but humans had been a common enemy.

Yoso waved the human to follow him, turned toward me. I jerked my eyes back to the shelf I planed. In his low growl the troll said, “Let me introduce ya to the artist’s mama.”

A nervous shudder encumbered my whole frame. I had walked past a hundred humans in the season since I, and what is left of the clan, joined the community at Black Lake. But Yoso was about to push me further than I’m comfortable.

“Paz,” the troll said. He likes to shorten my name to one syllable. Don’t know why. I never asked him why. Sometimes he said Paz-e, leavin’ off the ta. I don’t mind, exactly. Must be a form of familiarity he enjoys to display. Trolls are odd.

“I’d like to introduce ya to the local tinker. Bick, Pazeta.”

The human bowed, more tilted forward, but didn’t extend his hand, thankfully. But my stomach still wrenched.

Should I extend my hand? Was he waitin’ for me to—take the first move?

He didn’t say anythin’, and didn’t rise out of his tilt. A proper display of respect. I slowly extended my hand. He took it as slowly as I offered it.

“I’m very happy to meet you,” Bick, the tinker, the human, the former enemy, said.

He held my hand lightly without pumpin’ it as I’d seen Bick and Yoso do.

“The community here shows how special it is,” Bick said, “embracin’ you and your family.”

I’d avoided lookin’ too directly at him, to avoid any possible insult, but peered up into his face now. He wore a stubble of a beard. Should take the time to keep it razored clean. Dwarves and humans are the only races with facial hair. It’s rather disgustin’.

“I travel the Wildes in the summer,” Bick continued. “The blendin’ of the races has been goin’ on much longer there, yet your kind hasn’t found a place. They are—” He stopped abruptly. “Never mind. Not my place to preach. I look forward to doin’ business with you and your son in the future. The pieces I’ve seen thus far are wonderful. The one on the front counter at the inn is extraordinary.”

“It’s amazin’, isn’t it?” Yoso jumped in. “Ya can see a different image from every angle ya view it.”

My stomach relaxed as the human let go of my hand. I tried to smile up at the man called Bick, but I’m fairly certain it didn’t look very friendly. The other races, I know, especially the humans, are disgusted by the smiles orcs use among ourselves, which show what they call our needle sharp teeth. A smile with lips together doesn’t feel like a smile.

Will I ever be able to smile naturally to a human without gettin’ that look?

I pulled my hand back a little too quickly, maybe. I leaned forward in a gentle bow, hopefully to show I intended no slight.

The human, Bick, smiled. It was a kind expression. Humans do have a comfortin’ smile. I give them that. Prolly the borin’ nature of their faces.

“I don’t wish to keep you from your work,” the human said. “Welcome to Black Lake.”

He gave me another little bow before turnin’ and, with a nod and a wave at Yoso, left the shop. I followed him with my eyes as the human walked along the boardwalk that connected with the inn’s veranda a hundred feet away.

My face blazed with heat when I looked back to find Yoso studyin’ me.

“It’ll get easier,” he said. “I didn’t care much for their looks either, when they first came about.”

The troll set his enormous hand on my shoulder. The long fingers trailed down my rounded back. I shuddered, as the touch reminded me of my old mate. Miss him so. Been a long time since a masculine hand rested on me, romantically or otherwise.

Yoso winked. “They didn’t care much for my looks either, I suppose.”

I couldn’t make myself see fit to smile at the troll’s humor—I think it was a joke. For me smiles just aren’t what they used to be. Now they’re work not to offend. “I need to go do my collectin’,” I said. “Gladys and Eina go through those mushrooms as though they grow everywhere in plain sight.”

The dwarf growled about the troll’s lollygagging, and Yoso gave me a last grin as he whirled around to help Master Coedwig hang shelves that were too high for the dwarf to reach. I hurried to the rear of the shop and retrieved the baskets my hen younglin’ and I use on our gatherin’ trips, and the two of us slipped out the back door. In fifteen minutes the shop would empty anyway. The other races have that odd habit of requirin’ a mid-day meal.

Kincere chatted nonstop as we headed into the forest. She, her bull siblin’, and Kelhin are embracin’ our new life at Black Lake more readily than me. So it gave her more to talk about. Never fails to surprise me how easily they adjusted to the change.

Though I could never return to the desert now, can’t say I’m happy here, either.

“Kelhin is startin’ to grow on me,” Kincere said.

I interrupted my diggin’ in the needles around a giant pine to look over at my offspring. Good thin’ she’s warmin’ for him. Not likely another orc will ever be welcomed into the community. It’s her siblin’s young friend or nothin’.

“He’s so devoted to Janding. But I wish he was a little more focused upon buildin’ his own life.”

“If we were in the clan, he’d be expected to put the clan leader before himself,” I said.

“But we aren’t exactly a clan, anymore,” Kincere said.

I glared at my younglin’.

If ya only knew what it was like to grow up dreamin’ of yar only bull offspring becomin’ the clan leader. Ya wouldn’t be so dismissive of their relationship.

“The four of us will always be a clan,” I finally decided to tell her.

Kincere acted as though she didn’t hear me. She chattered on about Gladys, Eina, and the humans she met in the inn, about how it would be when the four of us moved out of Coedwig’s cabin.

“I wish we could have built our cabin before the shop,” Kincere said.

My frustration with my younglin’ rose again. “Ya want everythin’, yesterday!” I hissed. “Remember where we were a season ago.”

The hen looked at the ground. Face blanched a bit, maybe.

“Ya talk about this special community. It is itself a clan, and we are at the bottom of the hierarchy. Yar brother is nothin’ special as he was within our orc clan. It’s amazin’ they’ve gotten behind the idea of this shop, and encouraged Janding with his fiddlin’. I never would’ve imagined his doodlin’ with a knife, or childish playin’ with clay to provide us a place in any clan.”

I stabbed my forked stick into the ground too hard and a tine broke. I muttered an orcin oath. Managed to quash the end of it. Not proper to speak that way in front of yar younglin’.

“I’m sorry, Mama, if I seem to take for granted our—status, here. I remember Jear’s recommendation to kill us. It wasn’t that long ago.”

Jear. Either a fool, or a— Best not go there. “We weren’t prepared for how cold it gets up here in the highlands,” I continued. “Imagine how it would have been if Coedwig hadn’t given up his home for us.”

“I know, Mama. We could have frozen to death that first storm.”

“And now they sweat to complete the shop, for the four of us,” I said. Still a bit confused about that. Why?

“It isn’t our shop,” Kincere said. “It’s on the elf’s land, and it will always be his.”

I jerked at my younglin’s impertinence. “Built from his lumber, and his debt! Would our former clan have gone to such effort for a family that didn’t even have a member on the council?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Built for yar brother’s use, so he can support his own!” I threw down the stick that’s now useless diggin’ for mushrooms, and looked about for another I could fashion into my simple tool.

“Why don’t we accept the ogre’s offer to collect with me?” Kincere asked softly. “I enjoy Ren’s company.”

I turned a frown toward my younglin’. Now ya want to take this from me? Do ya prefer the company of an ogre hen? How do I tell ya this is the only way I contribute to our new clan?

“Torc and Asr are pleasant enough for ogrelin’s,” Kincere said. “They’ve no less a snout for fungus.”

This is the only thin’ I do that gives us time together. Yet all I’ve done is nag away at ya today.

“Mama, it pains me that ya’re so unhappy.”

“It isn’t that I’m unhappy.” Yes it is. I’m no one anymore. I used to be the clan leader’s daughter. I was sought out for my experience and fellowship. My skills aren’t needed here.

“What is it, Mama?”

I didn’t speak for a long while, but I know I needed to share—what’s goin’ on in my head. I searched for the right words. I didn’t want to sound as though I whined, as I’d accused my younglin’.

I sighed. “I used to make the finest ropes in our clan. This clan uses ropes ten times as strong, made in human factories in the North. I used to teach our lore to the orclin’s of our clan. This clan has no younglin’s interested in our history. I was a princess. Now the dwarf barks at me because I’m in the way.”

Kincere stepped to me and embraced me in a tight hug.

“No,” I told her defiantly. “I’m actin’ weak.”

“It’s not a bad thin’ to need a shoulder from time to time.” Kincere smiled. Her eyes were red and glistened. “Ya don’t unwind a day’s knittin’ because ya drop one stitch.”

“That’s the kind of wisdom I wish I was sought out for,” I said. An ache crossed my chest.

“Ya’re obviously a better teacher than ya take credit. How else could I grow so wise?”

I rewarded her with a grin. “I was mean to ya, and ya work so hard to make me feel good about myself. Ya’re the better orc.”

“Nonsense,” Kincere said, her voice a mixture of tears and laughter. “Ya’re too melancholy to see yar own worth.”

The previous ache faded into a tightness that traveled across my shoulders, into my jaws. “We’re jabbin’ more than we’re gatherin’. We have shrooms to collect to pay for Master Coedwig’s board.”

We shared a one armed embrace as we headed for the base of the next ancient pine. Our conversation returned to lighter subjects and the time passed quickly. We found ourselves next to the main trail the humans use into the valley. I jerked with a start by the sound of a wagon approachin’, quickly ran for the deep shadows, but Kincere continued on our path, talkin’ as though nothin’ was amiss. I hissed at her.

“What are ya doin’, Mama?”

“There’s someone coming!”

Kincere waved a lazy hand and scraped the needles away from the trunk of the nearest pine. She stood after collectin’ a clump of shrooms. The wagon neared and stopped. A gasp escaped from my mouth.

A human man and woman sat in the front seat of the wagon. I couldn’t fathom the casual expressions on their faces. They didn’t reach for a bow, or any other kind of weapon. They looked down on Kincere with curiosity, not disgust or fear, as I expected. The two humans spoke with Kincere. She smiled in that way the humans preferred, which is so hard for me. Kincere ran a few steps toward me, where I hid behind a tree.

“Come, Mama. We have all the shrooms we need. These folks have offered to give us a ride to the inn.”

“Nonsense! It’s a trick.”

Kincere smiled. “It’s time to trust a little, Mama.”

I closed my eyes tight, imaginin’ the danger. How do I make her understand?

I jumped, startled, at my younglin’s tight grip on my smock, pullin’ me out of my hidin’ place. I opened my mouth to shout about the danger we were in. But the human man stood on the ground ten feet away from us, offerin’ us his hand to help us climb up into the wagon. I can’t fight this. I allowed Kincere to pull me near.

I followed my younglin’ into the back seat of the wagon despite my misgivin’s. Kincere answered the humans’ seemin’ly casual questions. The humans chattered about this bein’ their third trip to Black Lake Inn, raved over the food, hospitality, the scenery. The man crowed about the fishin’.

“The one thing the place is missin’,” the man said, “is a masseuse. I’ve traveled up North. All the big hotels up there have a person to rub out the sore muscles after a long day. Especially after the better part of a day in a wagon—oh, my back.”

My mind wandered in the past, how I used to massage my mate when he returned from a long huntin’ trip. He called me “his angel,” moaned at my coddlin’.

“Would a human accept a massage from one of my kind?” I had to be turnin’ bright red, based on the heat in my cheeks. The words escaped as though conjured out of me. I stared ahead, frozen in a fear for my thoughtless question.

“I don’t see why not,” the man said. “I would. Got to admit though, the first time I saw an ogre walk up the steps of the inn, I thought my heart would stop. In ten minutes, his jowls, snout, and tusks seemed perfectly natural to me, as I watched him playin’ checkers with the man next to me.”

“You do massages for the inn, dear?” the human woman asked. “I would love to get on your schedule, too. I’ve never had a professional massage, but I’m on vacation. I’d be of a mind to try one.” She giggled. “Though I’m sittin’ on what hurts the most.” She covered her face with a pale hand. The endearin’ glance from her mate was richer than her joke.

My stomach churned with excitement—and a new fear. I caught Kincere studyin’ me, but there was nothin’ but a smile on her face. She allowed her teeth to show, even. That was especially rewardin’.

“Speak with Master Braes,” I heard myself sayin’. I didn’t know where the words came from—as if some gnome conjured them out of my mouth. “By tomorrow mornin’, I believe we can get set up for massagin’ those tired muscles.”

“Excellent,” the man said, lookin’ over his shoulder, smilin’ broadly.

Oh, the rounded edges of his teeth. Hours ago, had thought how ugly the tinker’s teeth are—overly fat, blunt. It’d be hard to touch the puffy pink skin of the humans. But I’d finally be able to truly contribute.

There’s nothin’ more important. A task. Any task. That gave back to the community that saved our lives. To belong again.

I bounced on the hard bench seat, oblivious to the conversation the rest of the way down the long slope to the inn. Mind spun, much like my stomach twisted.

Wagon settlin’ in the broad oval in front of the inn, after expressin’ our thanks for the ride, I sent Kincere to deliver the shrooms, and sought out Master Braes. The elf watched me, unblinkin’, as I recited my proposal. I’d worked hard to bolster my courage, but his emotionless expression made me feel lost and alone.

My words came to an abrupt end. I’d failed, left yet without a skill to offer my new clan.

“This evenin’, if Gladys will work with ya, we’ll see how quickly ya can pick up the differences that must exist between orc and human anatomy.” His words were soft, in his high-pitched voice—compared to the dwarf and troll’s I’d been spendin’ so much time with the last weeks—seemed to ring in my ears.

He was good with my proposition?

“I’ll speak to Master Coedwig,” he continued, “about buildin’ a massage table right away. Ya can’t do this kind of work in our patrons’ rooms. Wouldn’t be proper, nor—” His voice trailed off a moment. “I know there was a reason I put that huge, fancy window in the little office above yar new shop. Imagine the view from up there, while the stress is bein’ pounded out of our visitors’ muscles.”

Pounded?

The little elf leaned over the broad counter of the front desk and extended his hand. I took the small hand reluctantly. I haven’t gotten used to this custom of the lesser races. But if I’m gonna be puttin’ my hands all over a human soon, my repulsion to any of their touch had to be over.

~

Gladys laughed, no, guffawed, at the idea of bein’ an orc’s test subject. “If you had met me years ago, dear, you’d understand the joke,” she said.

We agreed to meet after the dinner rush, and I wandered back to the shop, wonderin’ how much tongue-waggin’ my hen younglin’ had already managed. Walkin’ in, my bull younglin’ strode briskly toward me. He didn’t say anythin’, and though his eyes drooped in exhaustion, he wore a faint smile on his face, an expectant one.

I took in the transformation of the place. The odd bit of evidence proved it was a new establishment, but the dwarf and troll who stood nearby shared Janding’s giddy expression. Many shelves remained unfinished. But at least one piece of Janding’s unique art perched on each, nothin’ as elaborate as the sculpture he had carved for Master Braes, but seein’ the pieces spread around the room—I didn’t have words to describe the awe of it.

An orc, an artist for humans.

My little bull, an artist.

Respected contributor of a clan.

~