Page 22 of The Outcast Orc

Marok finally spoke. “But what about the other humans?”

“Bah, I have no time for them now, what with the boy half-dead. Until I get around to their purification, you’re stuck with them yourself.”

13

MAROK

Quinn had questions. Big surprise. I could see it in his eyes—but somehow he managed to hold his tongue. I bid Borkul goodbye, left the wagon at the wainwright’s, and chained the two humans together again so they couldn’t do anything stupid. Any humans I’d previously come across—the humans at the bazaar, the itinerant traders—seemed to know something about the world. But these two came from some far-flung place where no one had taught them much about anything.

I’d never had to deal with anyone so ignorant. They were worse than babies. At least babies couldn’t stab you in your sleep—not with enough force to give you more than a flesh wound, anyhow.

I marched them back to my quarters. It was the same home I’d shared with Akala. A family home—too big for one person. We hadn’t borne children. Not yet. We always thought there’d be plenty of time.

How wrong we were.

Most orcs would not want unpurified strangers in their homes. Who knows what sort of ill omens they might track in? For me, though, it made no difference. Things couldn’t get much worse. First, losing Akala…then, losing the respect of the whole clan. I supposed the Red Hand could always stop shunning me and toss me out altogether. But maybe that would be a relief.

“If you require a soft bed,” I announced, “I have none.”

The female, Bess, sniffled. Her scent went saline.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded.

Quinn squared his shoulders. “She’s been through a lot. We both have. You don’t need to yell.”

Thiswas their idea of yelling? They hadn’t heard me command threescore orcish warriors. “You should be grateful—I’m telling you how things are.Someonehas to.” I gestured at my winter coverings. “Use the furs on that shelf if you’re too delicate to sleep on the floor.”

Quinn reached for a particular bearskin, and I said, “Not that one. Any of the others.”

“It’ll be okay,” I heard him murmur to Bess, who was now fully weeping. Again.

How such soft creatures ever survived in this world, I’d never understand. My home was spacious, three full rooms, but it was clear I couldn’t leave the humans to their own devices. I’d need to keep my eye on them.

“Are the collars really necessary?” Quinn asked.

“Are they?” I countered.

His shoulders slumped. Just a bit. “Listen—there are more orcs than I can count between here and the forest, not to mention a well-guarded wall twice as tall as me.”

“Don’t forget the trolls,” Bess whispered.

“We’re not going anywhere. It’s just a little hard to sleep with an iron band around your neck.”

I dug out the key from a pouch at my belt and tossed it at his feet. “If you think you can talk your way past those guards, think again. They don’t negotiate. They kill. They’d slay you without thinking twice.”

“Understood,” Quinn said, unlocking Bess’s collar.

She sank to the floor and curled up on her side, trying to make herself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

Truly, it was a wonder they weren’t all dead by now.

Once they were both unchained, Quinn set to work padding the floor with my furs. My collection was impressive, though I couldn’t take any credit for it. Akala was the one always eager to go hunting. Whenever we could steal off alone, we’d head for the woods. Sometimes we’d intend to track down prey and end up coupling. Sometimes a fresh trail piqued our curiosity and we’d leave the sex for later. Usually, we made time for both.

And now the humans were rubbing their scent all over the pelts we’d collected.

She would have found this amusing, I think. My wife took things in stride.

“Where is the chamber pot?” I heard Bess whisper.

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