Chapter 13

13

T ryggr had only scented of Eben .

The certainty shouted again and again through Eben’s awareness as he finally dragged himself back to bed, and sank into a long, deep night’s sleep. A sleep he’d unquestionably needed, and when he awoke, he felt far fresher, his thoughts far clearer than before.

Tryggr had been worried about him. Tryggr had wanted to make sure he was well. Tryggr had only scented of him. Of him .

But maybe — Eben’s distant rational brain pointed out, as he washed and dressed — maybe it still meant nothing. Or even if it had, maybe he’d run Tryggr off entirely last night, with his exhaustion and his foolishness and his babbling. With how he’d implied he would soon return to the dyflissa .

And yes, that temptation still shimmered there, dark and low in Eben’s belly — but the truth of Tryggr’s scent was stronger. The truth of Tryggr’s care, and his words. The way Tryggr had spoken of Alma , and of Drafli .

The woman seems sweet. Loyal . A hard worker, eager to please in bed. All just as Skai like best. So if she can keep it up, show Boss she’s worth his time, I ken he’ll come around.…

Keep it up. Show him. He’ll come around.

It meant something. It had to mean something. And Eben had to know. He had to try. He had to.

So instead of going straight to the sickroom, Eben first went for the scullery. Drawing in deep breaths as he strode through the corridors, through the Grisk wing, into the large, fragrant kitchen. Where he fought to ignore the odd glances from the silver-haired Ash - Kai and the frowning Skai working over the fire, and held his eyes on the open door of the small adjoining scullery up ahead.

Where — yes, yes — that was Tryggr’s scent. Tryggr’s scent, and another unfamiliar orc’s, too. And when Eben halted in the scullery door, he found Tryggr kneeling over a washbasin, elbows-deep in soapy water, and blinking at him.

And Eben was blinking at Tryggr , too. At his wet-spattered bare chest, his strong, soapy forearms. The sheen of sweat across his forehead and high cheekbones, the long black strands of hair falling out of his topknot. All making him look more… vulnerable, somehow, more approachable, and perhaps even more appealing than before.

But most compelling of all was his scent. Hanging thick and heavy in the air, and still only tasting of… Eben .

“ What is it, Ka -esh?” Tryggr finally said, into the dangling silence. “ Looking for Alma ? She’s gone out for a spell, I ken.”

Eben twitched and shook his head, and drew in a shaky breath. “ I —” he began, tried again. “ I only wished to ask if — if you might have any need for — help.”

Tryggr’s brows shot up, and then he glanced sideways, toward where — oh. Right . There was another orc, an older Skai , crawling out from where he’d apparently been under the counter. And as Eben blinked toward him, and then toward the counter — which held a towering pile of laundry — it occurred to him that the scullery still looked far cleaner than it had the last time he’d seen it, when he’d fixed that foul drain, and it had been overrun with ash and filth and vermin.

“ Thanks , Ka -esh, but Duff’s already helping with the laundry,” Tryggr said, with a jerk of his head toward the older Skai , who was fully ignoring Eben , in favour of intently licking what scented like fresh blood from his fingers. “ An ’ don’t you already have work in the sickroom to do?”

Eben’s stomach plummeted, his gaze dropping, and he gulped down a deep breath. A breath that filled his nostrils with more of Tryggr’s scent, so unnaturally strong in this small stuffy room. A scent that still tasted of… Eben .

It was enough to raise Eben’s eyes again, though his tooth bit hard at his wavering lip, and his clammy hands wiped at his trousers. “ Ach , I do,” he said, his voice hitching. “ And I should never forego my work there, or our patients who need my help. But Efterar wished me to cut back my time there, and I only thought — if there was aught else a Ka -esh might help you with, such as —”

His eyes darted sideways, to where he could see the stone marking the nearest closed air-vent, and he edged toward it, and pulled it out with a shaky hand. Revealing the familiar cranking mechanism behind it, and after a few moments of squeaky turning, a rush of sweet fresh air poured through the vent and into the too-hot room.

“ Wait , there’s another vent?” Tryggr’s sharp voice demanded, though it sounded distinctly relieved, too. “ Thought there was only one, under the counter. How the hell’d you know that one was there?”

Eben shrugged, and gave a shaky wave of his hand. “ They are marked the same in every room,” he replied, slightly steadier than before. “ There is another there” — he nodded toward the wall behind the Duff orc, and then up at the ceiling — “and there, I ken. Our fathers would not have built a scullery with only one vent, ach? This risks leaking tainted air into the kitchen, and spreading disease throughout all the mountain.”

Tryggr was still staring at him, his arms immobile in the soapy water, while this Duff promptly turned around, and began poking at the vent Eben had pointed out behind him. But his hands were clearly arthritic, his frustration already jolting through the air, so Eben furtively went to join him, attempting a careful smile toward his wrinkled, reddening face.

“ Ach , you near have it,” he said softly. “ Only twist, thus — ach, this is good. Once or twice more, I ken.”

Duff obliged, turning the crank twice more — and he crowed aloud at the sudden blast of cool air in his face. But Eben winced, wrinkling his nose, because the scent behind also reeked of vermin — not only dung, but live mice too.

“ Ach , it is infested,” he told Duff . “ It ought to be cleaned out, but —”

He cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder toward Tryggr , who hadn’t wanted his help — but Tryggr was just watching, with a look Eben couldn’t at all read in his eyes. While beside Eben , Duff was eagerly nodding, and waving him toward it. “ Clean ,” he said flatly. “ Get vermin out .”

Eben couldn’t argue with that — it was a genuine health hazard to have vermin living in a scullery — and he showed Duff how to release the vent’s grate, and draw it out of the wall. And before Eben had even had a chance to look inside, Duff shot out a knobbly hand, grasped a live squirming mouse from inside the vent, and bit into its throat.

Eben blinked, but obligingly waited as Duff rapidly drained the mouse — cracking open its neck for good measure — before bending his silver head to peer longingly into the vent. “ Other mice run off,” he said mournfully. “ Mayhap come back, if we put vent in again?”

Eben half-smiled and nodded, even as he glanced around, and went to collect a small shovel and a bucket. “ Mayhap after we clean this out,” he replied, with as much firmness as he could muster. “ We should not wish to leave it there to fester for next time, ach?”

Thankfully , Duff didn’t protest, and even helped Eben clean the vent with surprising enthusiasm. And while Tryggr had seemingly returned to his laundry-scrubbing behind them, Eben could almost feel him still listening, watching, his eyes prickling on Eben’s back as he dumped the detritus down the scullery’s ash chute, along with the drained mouse. Which , Duff sadly lamented, did not taste nearly as good as the rats.

“ Ach ?” Eben asked over his shoulder, as he scrubbed his hands in the sink, and then waved Duff toward it, too. “ You ken, rats bear some properties that make them easier to digest, and thus may gain you more nutrients. Do you oft long for rats to eat?”

Duff fervently nodded as he washed his hands too, the scent of his hunger swirling into the air, and Eben considered that for another moment. “ I ken you may need more of a specific nutrient, and this is why you crave this so strongly,” he said thoughtfully. “ I should be glad to bring you some of our tonics to try, should you wish? Most orcs like the taste very much, and some have fresh blood in them, also.”

Duff looked cautiously intrigued by this, and behind them, Tryggr finally cleared his throat. “ Can’t see how it’s not worth trying, Duff ,” he said firmly. “ Thanks , Ka -esh.”

Eben’s face heated, but he smiled and waved it away. “ I am happy to help,” he said, and then twitched at the familiar words, at the way they caught and flared in Tryggr’s eyes. And Tryggr wasn’t washing again, was just kneeling there looking at Eben with something almost wolfish in his eyes, and Eben drew up to his full height, drew up his breath and his courage. He had to try.

Keep it up. Show him. He’ll come around…

“ I could help in — other ways, also,” he said, too quickly. “ I could” — his eyes darted downwards, toward the bloodstained tunic Tryggr was scrubbing — “bring some chalk powder, to help with stains. Or mayhap more lye, for soap. Or a solution to help keep the drain clean, and free of foul vapours that could harm you. Or harm Alma , who you are meant to watch over.”

He was still speaking far too fast, his eyes wide and almost pleading on Tryggr’s face. And oh, that was surely softness in Tryggr’s eyes, in his rueful little half-smile, half-grimace.

“ Ach , well, all right, then, Ka -esh,” he said, husky. “ We’ll be glad to have you, I ken.”

Eben couldn’t help his sudden, relieved smile, beaming brightly down toward Tryggr’s flushed face. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Tryggr’s hands fumbled the tunic in the water, his face gone slightly redder than before.

And it was something, it had to be something. And Eben’s smile pulled even wider as he nodded, and drew in a deep breath of that sweet, succulent scent. Tasting of him. Only him.

“ Thank you, sir,” he said, to those watching, shifting eyes. “ I shall do my best.”