Chapter 29

Redmorning waited until they had stopped for the night. The Tattered Banner set up their rough camp in a hollow against a rocky hill, far from the morning's starting point. Veren talked to his lieutenants, made his rounds, and lay down as he usually did. Loudwhisper took the first watch, to his relief.

He waited until he was sure Kev'ran was asleep. Then he carefully shrugged off the blanket, twined the mana around himself, and windwalked stealthily away from his bodyguards.

The peons slept together in a group, lying wrapped in hides against the shelter of the two catapults or curled up on the travois. Most of them were bundled in groups, forgetting male and female in the face of the bitter cold.

Veren Redmorning was not without an ability to judge his fellow Orcs. He found Nez the Small alone, wrapped in a hide and curled up against a wheel.

He knelt beside her, hidden by the catapult's hulking shadow as he let the haze of magic drop away.

"Nez?" he whispered.

She stirred and sat up, but her face was clear and alert. She wasn't sleeping.

"Chieftain?" she whispered back, blinking in startlement. "What you doing here?"

Veren found himself in a dilemma. He dealt with members of the other gender every day. The trouble was that he tended not to think of them that way. Kev'ran was a warlock, Kerd was a raider, and Glaive was... Well, Glaive was an Elf, and besides, it was frightening to think of her in any such context as this one. Faced with the situation in which he'd put himself, he had no idea what to do.

"Demons," Redmorning muttered.

Then he hit her. The backhand blow snapped her head around, though it made almost no sound.

Nez straightened slowly, raising a hand to her cheek. Redmorning looked at her expression of incredulous disbelief and thought, Oh, no. I was wrong. I was wrong, I've just made inappropriate advances to one of my own Orcs and when this gets back to Veddy, she and Merd are going to kill me and they'll have every right -

Nez balled up her fist and hit him in the stomach.

Redmorning doubled over, wheezing. All the air had rushed out of his lungs, and little spots danced in front of his eyes.

It was, without exaggeration, the happiest moment of his life.

Then Nez threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. Buoyed by success, and probably also by lack of oxygen, Veren kissed her back.

Afterwards, he knelt with his arms around her waist, gasping.

"That was… A little awkward," he said. He was sure one of her undertusks had cut his cheek. It didn't matter.

"'S okay," Nez said breathlessly. "We get better as we go."

They did.

---

The Tattered Banner moved on soon after sunrise. The wind died down into an ominous calm, and the tall conifers stood eerily still around them. Veren Redmorning walked along between his bodyguards. Last night's exhilaration had given way to a kind of dazed vagueness, and he struggled to keep track of his surroundings. He hardly noticed when Gedu Pouncefaster trotted her wolf past him, though Gedu was usually stationed forward and should not have been headed for the rearguard.

"Too quiet," Loudwhisper wheezed after a while.

"I agree," Kev'ran said. "I think we are watched."

"More satyrs?" Redmorning asked, mentally shaking himself. "Pass the word for Shel'yin, then."

Word traveled up the column. The warlocks were ranged around Redmorning's position in the caravan's center, so Shel'yin was not far off. The big warlock matched pace with them a few moments later.

"Yes, Chieftain?"

"Do you see anything out there?"

Redmorning jerked his head toward the forest. Shel'yin looked unobtrusively to left and right – if we're watched, it would be better not to mark himself as one who can see the invisible.

"Yes," Shel'yin said eventually. "There are two satyrs keeping pace with us to either side. I saw two swords. I cannot tell what the others carry."

"Just four?" Redmorning saw nothing, stare though he might.

"Yes."

"Scouting us," Redmorning said. "The way we're scouting everything in front of us. Thank you, Warlock, you're dismissed. Have someone send me the Glaive."

"Yes, Chieftain," Shel'yin said. He exchanged a brief but smoldering glance with Kev'ran before he moved on.

Good, Redmorning thought. So that's proceeding as well.

"Chieftain," Loudwhisper said. He shifted his weight as he walked, adjusting the position of his club where it rested on his shoulder.

"Yes, Loudwhisper."

"How'd your face get scratched?"

"Er," Redmorning said. He fingered the long mark on his cheek. They'll have to know. Everyone will. But how do I tell my clan I want to spend the rest of my life with a peon?

"In point of fact, I believe he means 'by whom,'" Kev'ran said. Redmorning glanced that way and was startled to see her almost smirking.

"I think you're spending too much time around Shel'yin," Veren said, stalling for time.

"Still want to know," Loudwhisper said.

"So do I," Kev'ran said. "Particularly if you have further intention of creeping away from your bodyguards in the middle of the night."

"I thought you were asleep!"

Kev'ran made no answer to this. Redmorning swore under his breath.

"All right. Everyone's going to know, in any case. I was with Nez the Small."

The bodyguards were silent for a moment. Then Loudwhisper said,

"Peon? Real short, like Kev'ran?"

"Thank you for pointing that out, Dib," Kev'ran said dryly. "The same peon who killed three satyrs yesterday, Chieftain?"

"That's the one," Redmorning said.

"One who made Shadebreaker's clothes?" Dib said.

"Yes."

Another ruminative silence followed this.

"Well," Loudwhisper said. "Guess you'll always have nice shirts, then."

"An excellent choice," Kev'ran said. "In a number of ways. We do not wish to be like other clans. It is well that you choose to remind everyone of that."

"I didn't choose her for that reason," Veren said.

"I know," Kev'ran said. "If you had, you would simply be a great Chieftain. As it is, you are also a great Orc."

---

Lev Darksun stumped along in the rear of the column, watching the woods suspiciously. Lacking Kev'ran's senses, he still had some forty years of hard living behind him. He had a feeling someone was watching them.

"Bet it's the stupid lousy satyrs," he muttered. "How'm I gonna get another tunic if I ruin this one? 'M never gonna get the stains out as it is."

A couple of nearby grunts chuckled at this.

"Mebbe you ought to get one made out of satyr hide," one said. "Bet it works as good as deerskin."

"Hmph," Lev said.

"Hey, Ugly," said a familiar voice. Darksun looked up to see Gedu Pouncefaster riding up astride her wolf. She leaned sideways out of the saddle and hooked his helmet as she darted past.

"Give that back," Darksun said. "Demons. We're trying to guard the column here, you skinny little wretch."

"Sorry," Gedu said. She turned the animal and handed the helmet back. Lev settled it on his skull.

"So what're you doing here? And where were you last night?" He did not look at her as he spoke, trying to keep track of the woods around them. The Clan is first. Always is.

"Sick," Gedu said. "This morning, too." She reined the animal in as it tried to outpace the grunts.

Darksun inspected her closely for just a second, startled. He was a lot older than Gedu. He'd figured it would be fun while it lasted, but… He hadn't expected it to last long. Frankly, he'd expected this to be a brushoff.

"Leg bothering you?" he asked, returning his eyes to the trees. She did look tired and haggard this morning, darker circles under her red eyes.

"Not hardly," Gedu said. "You better start thinking 'bout digging a bigger burrow, we get to where we're going."

"Why?" Lev asked, now thoroughly puzzled.

Gedu rolled her eyes. "'Cause it's gonna have to hold three Orcs, you big idiot," she said. "Or you change your mind 'bout what you told me? Kind of late for that now."

"'Bout what I - ?" Lev stopped as he realized what she must be referring to. Demons. He really was an idiot. Told her I wanted to be a father.

"Really?" he said.

"Yep," Gedu said. "Went to see the warlocks this morning. They said it's for sure."

Lev Darksun stared up at his very own Orc. He wanted, more than anything, to grab her out of the saddle and kiss her. But the Clan was marching, he was in the rearguard, and his Chieftain was depending on him.

"Later," he said meaningfully.

Gedu grinned her old grin.

"Yeah," she said. And she turned and rode off.