The Kindreds, Volume 1

The Eighth, Pt. 3

She was sitting in the queen cell where Orla had left her. Trolls surrounded her, each vying for the honor of feeding her. Old Mother smiled patiently at all of them, accepting a spoonful of custard or a bite of cake from each in turn. One dipped a bit of pie into sugar-paste before carefully lifting it to the queen's mouth. The Trolls each fed her different foods, but they all fed her with reverent care. The room was silent, and the thoughts they communicated were gentle as well. They reached Orla's mind as she neared, but the calm could not penetrate her anxiety. Orla disrupted the peace. She burst into the small cell, shoving her sisters aside and causing a hum of angry comments to fill the warm air.

The food, the food, they cried. Someone guard Mother's food!

When she reached Old Mother, she fell to her knees in a deep bow. Wordlessly, her mother touched her neck, the place of weakness, allowing her to rise. When Orla lifted her face, tears were on her cheeks.

"Om' Modir," she said, suddenly breathless. "Thou need to come. There art a disturbance in the valley. Groll and the Gom' Brodir are—what art you doing?"

Orla suddenly forgot about the human girl, of the Old Brother and Groll fighting. In the time she had been gone (I should never leave her alone so long!), the youngest cubs of the hive—those not still in the dirt—had filled the queen cell. Orla hadn't seen them amidst the throng of her elder siblings feeding Old Mother, but now they were all she could see. Over a dozen cubs, so young their bodies were still soft, crouched around their mother. Some stared reverently, others looked around stupidly, watery eyes wide and staring.

Old Mother caught Orla's look and dismissed her older children. Orla saw the wave of her cracked hand, but she was not included in the commanding thought the queen sent to the other Trolls. Old Mother was the only Troll in the clan who had been gifted with a Boon, and it was one all Troll queens possessed: one of silent speaking. Typically it meant that only the one with the Boon could communicate through thoughts, but Old Mother's magick was strong, and she was able to share it with her daughters so that they could all speak with their minds if she desired.

The Trolls left wordlessly—though Orla imagined some protested with their mental voices; Shoda certainly would—guarding the platter of royal food closely. Five different Trolls had a hand on it, all ready to catch the tray if one slipped. The food was easy to make, but the royal custard necessary to sustain the queen was a rare commodity as of late. They wouldn't waste a drip or a crumb. One of her sisters, Welda, made to grab the clay jar tucked away on one of the few shelves in the room. The queen just shook her head, sent a silent command, and Welda left empty-handed.

Orla and Old Mother were left alone with the children.

"Mother, what—" Orla began.

One of the cubs looked up at Old Mother suddenly, round cheeks puffed out and mouth drawn tight to hold in the saliva trying to seep out of her lips. She waved frantically and made little noises at the ancient Troll, trying to get her attention. Mother just smiled at the little girl, then pointed at the clay pot Welda had tried to take.

Bring it to me, my Orla, Old Mother thought to her. The familiar sound of her voice in Orla's head calmed all panic that had been building up in her. Happily, she retrieved the jar and brought it to her mother. It was made of a special type of soft white clay called kaolin which was mixed with the ash of animal bones, white sand, and a glittering stone called quartz. When it hardened it became a beautiful near-translucent material. Once, their people had specialized in the craft, but now the cave of clay held only tones of grey and red, and the quartz was a rare mineral, one they had lost the knowledge handling it required. The one remaining porcelain jar was reserved for the use of the queen only. It had been holding royal custard since before Orla was born, and would continue to for many centuries. The Trolls all handled it delicately when it was their turn to hold the jar, and Orla gingerly passed it to her mother. The woman held it to the cub's mouth.