[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dar.
    Memni seemed pleased to hear that. “What’s your name?”
    “Dar.”
    “This is Dar,” said Memni to the others in the tent. The women cast Dar indifferent glances; otherwise, they didn’t acknowledge her.
    “You’re from the hills, aren’t you?” said Memni. “I can tell by your accent. Lots of the girls come from there. I was born in Luvein, but my uncle…oops, it’s your turn. Be quick.”
    Dar undressed, stepped into the basin, and began washing. Recalling her experience at the river, she scrubbed thoroughly.
    “Put on one of those robes when you’re done,” said Memni, pointing to some linen robes draped over a line. “After you finish serving, bring it back here and wash it in the basin.”
    Dar finished washing and donned a robe. “What will I be doing?” asked Dar.
    “Giving orcs their food. They sit. We serve. It’s like a ceremony. Just copy me. And you have to say ‘mootha-yer-rat-thas-affa’ when you do it.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Who knows? But it’s important,” said Memni. “The orcs get mad if you forget. Some will hit you. You don’t want that. I’ve seen one kill a man that way. Just one blow. I’m not even sure he meant to do it. They’re so…”
    “Memni!” shouted a woman. “Stop blabbing with the scabhead and get ready.”
    Memni quickly shed her clothes, exposing several more bruises. After she had washed and put on a clean robe, all the women left the tent. The food they were to serve stood ready. A large kettle of porridge had poles inserted in its handle so a pair of women could lift and carry it. There were also baskets that held steaming roots. The women lifted the food and walked toward the circular enclosure in a slow procession. Memni and Dar were assigned to bear the kettle. Memni grunted from the effort of lifting her end of the pole. “No one likes to serve,” she said. “Especially porridge. By the time we’re done, all we’ll get is scraps. But I have my soldier, so…”
    “Shush!” said another woman as they entered the circle of upright branches. The women proceeded past the conical structures into the open area they surrounded. There, row upon row of orcs sat cross-legged and motionless. The woman leading the procession called out in a loud voice, “Saf nak ur Muthz la.”
    Deep voices answered in unison, “Shashav Muth la.” To Dar, the voices sounded like the roar of an avalanche. The fear and awe she experienced when she first saw Garga-tok returned as she gazed upon the monstrous faces. Each was different, yet all possessed a common inhumanity. Their animal-hued eyes glowed like those of cats in the fading light, and Dar dreaded walking among them.
    “Hurry,” whispered Memni. “Fill your ladle and start serving. Don’t forget to say the words.”
    The kettle was too cumbersome to carry among the orcs, so serving them would take many trips back and forth. Each orc had a wide, shallow metal bowl set before him. Dar watched Memni ladle porridge over the roots that had been served already. At least they’re not fussy how their food looks , thought Dar, as she imitated Memni. When she turned to refill the ladle, the orc she had just served grabbed her ankle. His claws dug into her skin. The words! I didn’t say the words! For a long moment, her mind went blank. The hand squeezed tighter.
    “Moo…uh…Mooth…Mootha-yer…yer-rat…thas-affa,” said Dar. “Mootha-yer-rat-thas-affa.”
    The orc released Dar, and she hurried back to the kettle, her ankle bloody. After that, Dar was careful to recite the phrase. All the orcs she served received their food without reacting, except the orc who had forced her to bathe. He curled back his lips and said, “Dargu.”
    Dar pretended not to notice as she poured the porridge over his bowl. “Mootha-yer-rat-thas-affa.”
    “No,” said the orc. “Muth la urat tha saf la.”
    Dar repeated what he said. “Muth la urat tha saf la.”
    “Hai,” responded the orc.