Page 12 of Orc Chained
We enter the stadium, using the excuse of scouting for the best spot to wait to both gather our thoughts.
“We don't let them split us up,” she says and whirls, grabbing my hand, her green-gold eyes wide and pleading. “If I get a better deal than you, I'll refuse it. Don't make me accept it.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “I'm not going to make you do anything. Whatever we do, we'll do together.”
When the gong sounds, Immortals enter. Aeddannari Fae and Uthilsen Orcs on foot, Icarian Gargoyles swooping down to land lightly on their feet before they tuck their membranous wings tightly against their back. I eyeball the Icarians; they're a scientific species that prefer isolation. Maezii and I will do well with an Icarian.
Instead of waiting, I approach one who’s been standing back and observing, Maezii silent at my back. He's dressed in standard flight leathers cut close to his body, a few shades darker than his gray skin. The planes of his face are as sharp as cut rock, his black eyes intelligent and watchful. His long black hair is also braided back, for the practicalities of flight.
He's discreet; there's nothing on his person to indicate his family, social status, or wealth. The headband he wears is also plain gray leather. Well, the quality of his boots, but anyone who lives long enough is expected to dress well even if poor. There aren't many poor Immortals since after a couple of centuries if you can't figure out finances, you're either stupid or dead. Usually both.
He turns his head and watches as I approach, his calm demeanor appealing.
“Vohnteri lun skri,” I say, clasping my elbows and executing the short bow that is a common courtesy in their culture.
He shifts slightly towards me to indicate I may continue. Dealing with an Icarian means learning to interpret silences.
I continue the greeting in his tongue. “I’m Kyona Lethergen, No Clan, accompanied by my apprentice, Maezii of the Outlands.” She duplicates my bow.
He barely inclines his head instead of bowing, which is borderline rude unless he's of high rank and in that case, the nod is polite. His gaze lingers on Maezii. “I am Ya?onar of Zar Gândul, Tyrnul Symputarii. You speak my language.”
He’s still staring at Maezii, unblinking. I glance at her in time to see her blush and look down, then jerk her head back up and glare.
“A little,” I say, mirroring his neutral but pleasant tone of voice.
He looks at me and waits.
“I am a fully trained midwife recently come from the Outlands where I travel between communities to deliver infants and provide basicgynecological care.” I gesture at Maezii. “She is my apprentice. We’re both tutored in basic self-defense and survival skills.”
“What formal education have you?”
“I can read and write and have mastered mathematics up to the algebraic levels. I've tutored my apprentice as time permitted.”
“My community has no need of a midwife, but two young females capable of learning the sciences will be of use. Are you willing to breed?”
“Neither of us will accept a concubine's position. But if a suitable mate offers himself, we will consider it. One for each of us,” I add, so there's no misunderstanding. “But we won’t be contracted into birthing young.”
A glimmer of amusement lightens his pure black eyes. He shifts towards Maezii. “You have an Immortal in your bloodline, and you bear a name of the Tyrnuls.”
She hesitates. “They said my ancestor is Fae. I don’t know about my name. Maybe my mother heard it and liked it.”
“That would be a reasonable explanation.” He glances at my necklace of five beads. “You have little magical potential other than what is innate with a Uthilsen line, but that is not to say you cannot be bred into a stronger bloodline.”
He’s negotiating.
“Not many half Immortals offer themselves up at the Sorting,” I say.
I wouldn't have been allowed at all if I wasn't half Human. The Sorting is meant for Immortal masters and Human servants, not the other way around, but they make exceptions for halflings. Ifwe began offering ourselves in droves, they might not though. The Immortals need magic adapted Humans to bring fresh genes into their bloodlines, but if they start treating their own offspring the same as mere mortals. . .that is a slope no one wants to slip down.
Ya?onar straightens. “I will offer you and your apprentice a contract for a year and a day, as it is plain you will not be separated.”
I bow.
“I am in need of a junior researcher and lab assistant, as well as labor to supplement my household staff. Should I find your service acceptable, the contract can be renewed at the end of the year. In addition, if your service is acceptable, I will allow males of appropriate status to submit courtship proposals. You will need to provide your own dowry, if one is required.”
“Neither Maezii nor I will offer a dowry at all. We won’t pay a male for the privilege of courting death to bear and rear his children, with whom he will enrich his Tyrnul.”
Ya?onar gives me a thin smile. “Even so. Are these preliminary terms satisfactory? I believe if we linger I may soon be challenged.”
