Page 48 of The Orc Chief's Baker
Once done applying the salve, Sythcol put the container away and moved off toward the door near the trunk of the tree that led to the former chief’s office. The elegant space was furnished with intricately carved and oiled furniture, the drapes were made of a soft material Brovdir had never even encountered during his travels. The carpet was so soft and lush it felt unsettling under his feet.
And it was completely littered with papers, vials, and crates as Sythcol attempted to investigate former Chief Ergoth’s past atrocities.
“It was the housing for the warriors, wasn’t it? That’s why you brought the elders together?”
Brovdir nodded slowly.
Sythcol let out a long sigh as he began to organize the papers on the desk as if looking for something. “I told you, temporary shelters will be more than sufficient. Your warriors don’t seem to be having trouble in their leather tents, why should any others?”
Yes, the warriors were doing fine in their tents, but it wasn’tcomfortableby any stretch. There was snow on the ground for Fades sake. “What of the women and children?”
The thought of Trinia sleeping in a tent in the snow made his throat burn and his skin crawl.
“There are really that many?”
Brovdir growled low. It was certainly more difficult for the clans outside the Rove Woods to find mates, but that didn’t mean they hadnone.
Sythcol’s face softened with contrition. “I apologize. That was snide. Of course, we’ll give any empty dwellings to the orcs with mates and sons. Once those are full, we’ll fashion something sturdier. I’m not surehow, but... we’ll figure it out.”
“I could,” Brovdir said but the harsh look from Sythcol had his back straightening and a lifetime of conditioning as the warlord’s second sealed his mouth shut.
“We’ll do it together. Again, you don’t know this clan like I do. You’d have no idea where to even put extra housing.”
Brovdir wanted to argue. He knew heshouldargue.
But his throat throbbed and constricted around the words.
With that, Sythcol changed the subject. “Have you received any reports from your warriors?”
Brovdir sighed and fished into his trouser pocket for the messages he’d been sent throughout the day. Brovdir’s only official task as chief was keeping track of the warriors. It was the main reason Karthoc wanted him to become a joint chief.
“I don’t trust anyone in this clan to control my warriors or carry out my orders for them. That is why you must stay here and play chief.”
So Brovdir had, although it went against his nature to do so. He was born to be a follower, not a leader. And he’d expected Karthoc to send more messages with orders. He’d half expected to get a bird two or three times a day.
Instead, his brother was far too busy gathering up the orc clans and hunting down his wayward mate to send more than one every half-moon.
Brovdir was on his own.
Sythcol took the small scraps of paper from Brovdir’s grasp without hesitation and began to go through each one with a furrowed brow. Even communication with the warriors was met with intense scrutiny.
“They gave me all these already,” he muttered as Brovdir crossed his arms. “There are no others?”
“No,” Brovdir said darkly. “They would not withhold from you.”
Sythcol’s jaw tightened with remorse again, but it was gone quickly and Brovdir had to stop himself from heaving another great sigh of frustration. The male was so on edge. So suspicious. He double checked every scrap of information that was thrown his way against multiple sources and only trusted himself. Even his personal elite team of powerful conjurers had voiced complaints at his wary nature.
But Brovdir did not know how to combat it. The male had been greatly deceived by Ergoth and the wound ran deep.
Perhaps too deep.
“Odd... they’re all moving closer to Oakwall,” Sythcol said under his breath.
Brovdir’s mind instantly flashed with the image of Trinia. “The... sinkholes are close to Oakwall?”
The urge to bolt to her side and drag his woman away from the danger was almost overwhelming.
But she wasn’thiswoman.
