Aithne blinked and set down her book (trying not to think about what Urag would say if he knew she had taken some of his books on her journey) as Chyehye entered the bridal hut with a large bundle of clothing draped over her arms.  “Oh, you’re back! How did the hunt go?”

 

“It took longer than expected. My apologies – we found traces of the ba-ṭːa-tswas while hunting for your feast, so we tracked them down.” Chyehye set the clothes on the large bed – the only piece of furniture in the hut – and began to sort through them. “Take off your clothes and try this on.”

 

Aithne blinked again, then stood and slipped out of her college robes. “You found them? Is everyone okay?”

 

“Yes. We were prepared this time; it is better to be the ambusher than the ambushee!”

 

Aithne could not hold back a bitter laugh. “Don’t I know it!” She shivered as she beat back visions of Borkul and slipped on the dress Chyehye had suggested. “So how does this wedding work?”

 

“It is very simple. That one is still a little too large. You humans are so tiny! Here, try this one. Every eligible male who desires to marry you will step forward and you will choose one. The higher his ṭi, the better, since the average of your combined ṭi - along with those of his other wives, of course – determines your final placement in the meyge.”

 

“Ah. So if I chose someone from a lower ṭi…”

 

”Your status would be lowered. You could even drop to a lower ṭi if you chose someone from ṭi ṭːoh, for some reason. It is rare, but it happens; some romantics marry for love instead of status. That one is better but still not quite right. Here, try this one. Of course, as the top ranked in ṭi sna, you will lose a little status marrying anyone of your ṭi, since they are all below you. But if one from ṭi nyi steps forward, you should choose him – that will lift you into ṭi nyi, and you can never lose that status once you have it.”

 

Aithne frowned as she slipped on the next dress. She wasn’t interested in status; she needed someone who would let her leave when she wanted to. The question was, which ṭi would be least likely to care? Assuming there were enough to choose fr…

 

“Better, but that one is too thick. It’s embarrassing for a new husband to be unable to tear off his wife’s wedding dress in one try!” Chyehye laughed while Aithne’s eyes grew wide and her train of thought fizzled out. “But I’m sure it’s the same for…”

 

“Wait, are you saying part of the wedding ceremony is him tearing my clothes off?”

 

“Well, of course! Doesn’t that happen at human weddings? No? Huh. The ceremony ends with the husband tearing off his new wife’s wedding dress. He is not allowed to carry her into the bridal hut until he is able to complete the task, and if he cannot do it at all, the marriage is called off. In the old days, when the wife’s husband was chosen for her and it was someone she did not like, she would make the dress out of tough material that was difficult to rip. In one famous incident, Tto hated her would-be husband Duggup so much, she cunningly wove strands of steel throughout her dress. Duggup was so embarrassed by his failure, he moved to a different kwåim.”

 

Aithne found herself flushing and fought to keep her voice steady. “That must have led to some bad blood. Why does this happen right after the ceremony, not after the feast?”

 

Chyehye laughed, apparently oblivious to Aithne’s reaction. “It started a war that lasted two-hundred years. It is right after the ceremony for two reasons: if he fails, there was no wedding, so there is no reason to have a feast or give gifts. Also, it is best for the groom to get his lust out at the start – otherwise, he will just grow more irritable during the celebration and eventually fights will break out. Here, let’s try this one.”

 

Aithne combed through her thoughts as she tried on the pile of dresses. She had spent over three years as a slave and had been treated to many more humiliating degradations than having her clothes torn off in front of other people. Divines, it had been only nineteen days since she had appeared naked, bloody, and clinging to a giant cock in front of a good portion of the College of Winterhold. So why did the thought of her prospective husband tearing off her clothes in front of the entire meyge cause such internal distress?

 

Well, the meyge’s response when first seeing her was probably a big part of that. And her response to their response was an even bigger part. The combination fear and lust once again rose like bile, but she shoved it back down. At some point, she was going to have to sit down and figure out how to deal with her new gift/curse – it would not do to be caught frozen, like she had that day, in a time of crisis.

 

But now was not the time. She shook her head and focused on what Chyehye was saying, trying to ignore her knees and loins, both of which were quivering, but for completely different reasons.

 

It was going to be a long day.

 

*************************

 

The problem with doing so well in her trial, Aithne mused as she stood in front of the assembled meyge, was that the orcs who may have been inclined to let her do whatever she wanted now wanted her to stay. Strong wives were much in demand; whoever her husband, he would not want her to leave. She could hear it in their thoughts.

 

There were more to choose from than she could have imagined. Nearly every male from ṭi sna, her ṭi, had stepped forward to offer themselves as her mate. Many from the ṭi chy:u had as well, especially those closest to the top of the ṭi, hopeful for a quick promotion via marriage. Even a handful of ṭi ṭːoh orcs proffered themselves, though she didn’t need to read their minds to know they felt they had no chance.

 

In all, she had the choice out of nearly one hundred husbands. It was an overwhelming amount and her mind balked when she tried to get it to parse through them. How was she supposed to choose a life partner from one hundred strangers?

 

Then a gasp broke out from the crowd followed by murmurs as another orc stepped forward, one from the ṭi nyi group. Aithne heard Chyehye hiss but she didn’t need to ask to know why.

 

The orc’s Borkul-like hunger radiated from him like a wave of heat. It rang alarm bells in Aithne’s head while simultaneously launching a boiling wave of lust from her groin. He wanted to dominate her; to break her. Not to make her a slave, but just…because. Because that’s who he was – he carried an insatiable need to impose his strength on others. His wives stood behind him in submissive stillness, their gazes cast to the ground, the only orcs in the entire meyge not watching the proceedings. Aithne’s eyes locked with his and she had to fight not to kneel on the spot.

 

Movement distracted her gaze, and she turned away with silent gratitude as another of the ṭi nyi orcs stepped forward. This one, she recognized – the prodigy who had beaten her without trying. As if prompted, several other members of ṭi nyi stepped forward as well, including, after a pause in which the entire meyge seemed to hold its breath, Dyaj.

 

Chyehye’s hand gripped Aithne’s arm in a joyous squeeze; the orc’s excitement would have been palpable even without her leaking thoughts, which Aithne didn’t need to read – they poured out of Chyehye’s mouth in a harsh semi-whisper.

 

“The Chieftain himself! You will be a ṭån-Chtiyo!”

 

Many questions sprang into Aithne’s mind at that pronouncement, but she pushed them away – they were not important at this moment. “So you recommend I choose him?”

 

“You must!”

 

“Must I? Let’s see.”

 

Aithne could feel the weight of the meyge’s eyes as she moved from the front of the bridal hut to stand in front of Dyaj. She blocked out the individual minds as best she could but she could still feel them all as a collective, like some sort of giant hive mind reacting in unison to her every move. She tried to ignore it as she focused on Dyaj and read his mind.

 

No, not read it – she dug into it. For the first time, she gathered her strange new ability, set aside her qualms, and put it to its full use.

 

At first, she was overwhelmed by the myriad of thoughts, memories, and emotions that all tried to insert themselves at once. She wrangled them with difficulty into some sort of order she could parse and finally found what she was looking for.

 

Dyaj had stepped forward on an impulse fueled by curiosity and lingering regret over how she had been treated by both the meyge and by Dyaj himself. Now that she stood in front of him, he was beginning to regret his impulse. His mind flashed to his wives, then specifically to his First-Wife, Kinychye, and her reaction should Aithne choose him. Aithne bit down on the laugh at the conversation his imagination conjured (although a quick glance behind him showed Kinychye’s livid face, which lent credence to his fear), pulled out of his mind, then turned and stepped to the next orc in line, then the next. One by one, she forced herself into their most personal selves, learned who they were and, more important, what they wanted from her.

 

She learned less than she expected - most had roughly the same story and nearly all had the same wants. The prodigy, Aithne was surprised to learn, had stepped forward solely to protect her – he had been afraid she would choose Mwiw, the hungry Borkul doppelganger, so had stepped forward to give her a different ṭi nyi option. He was not actually interested in her; she had not impressed him during their fight and he suspected she had cheated in some way to get as far as she had. Which, of course, was not inaccurate.

 

The other ṭi nyi orcs were intrigued by her but had stepped forward only because two others of their ṭi had and did not want to lose face. They likewise were not interested in her, per se. Except for Mwiw, of course - when she tried to delve deeper into him, all she found was a black well of insatiable hunger. She withdrew from him almost as soon as she started and stepped hastily to the next, secretly begging her knees to keep her upright.

 

The lower Tier orcs’ motivations were different but similar – they weren’t attracted to her, of course, and she foresaw many lonely nights in her future with any of them; they saw her merely as a status boost for themselves. But, as she made her way through ṭi sna and started on ṭi chy:u, a sense of foreboding began to grow in her. It had been one thing when she had been considered so weak she would have been useless (and probably even a detriment); her strong showing meant she would be capable of the chores required of an orcish wife. Even if she chose a husband below her ṭi, she would need his permission to leave the Kwåim, and strong wives were needed at home. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all.

 

The hive-mind of the meyge reacted in concert as she moved through the ranks; starting with an inexorable sense of certainty when she went to Dyaj (obviously he is the only choice!) to a slight surprise but with a certain acceptance and even grudging approval (she knows her place; she is not worthy of being a ṭån-Chtiyo) when she moved away, the group mind had become increasingly incredulous as she moved down the line. There was an audible gasp when she moved to ṭi sna but, when she kept going without making a choice, the collective began to understand she was merely sizing up her choices one by one. An interesting strategy, but she was a stranger, after all, and had not grown up with these orcs, so it made some sort of sense that she felt the need to scope them out. That logic began to unravel when she continued to ṭi chyːu (Why bother? There are plenty of options of better standing!) and a certain sense of impatience began to pervade the gathering as she made her way down the row.

 

It was when she finished with ṭi chyːu and moved to the handful of hopefuls from ṭi ṭːoh that she lost the crowd completely (Why even glance at them?! This is insulting to ṭi nyi!) Even the orcs she studied were shocked, but with the shock came stabs of hope, for they, too, saw her only as a way to boost their status. It was only when she came to the very end of the line and looked up (and up and up) at the tallest yet lowest-ranked prospective husband of the bunch, that Aithne finally found what she was looking for – a single orc who would not hinder her from doing what she needed to do.

 

In retrospect, she mused as she tried to prepare herself for what she assumed would be a painful mental shock as the entire meyge revolted as one, the choice had been obvious all along. She took a deep breath, smiled at her soon-to-be-husband, and called out in a voice loud enough to ring throughout the kwåim the formal words Cheyhye had taught her: “Ug Hwow Mmenyått, ttud uch chenyåp pub ṭːeṭ ksak uch mmo do bits?”

 

Nyatt’s face reflected the stunned silence of the entire meyge, and for a long three heartbeats, time itself seemed to stand still. Then Nyatt swallowed and said the traditional words of acceptance – “Di pub mmechti ṭːeṭ - ṭːeṭ adwagunu tshe kwåmm.” – and the meyge collapsed into pandemonium as the two grinned at each other as if sharing a joke only they understood.

 

 

 

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