Perhaps it was the way his wolf trembled - a sense transmitted kinetically, but all the same he knew.
"Something's not right," Urgho whispered.
Lashka held up a warning hand. "Get me Murghat the Seer."
Urgho whistled, and his riders fanned out. The humans looked at them distrustfully, but they moved aside fearfully as the orcs made their way among them.
Foot soldiers clambered into the human wagons, separating out the young and the weak, collecting iron and quivers and bows.
"C'mon you saltwags," one of the orc sergeants cried out. The humans looked murderous, but they complied.
Lashka closed her eyes. She listened to the wind as it bent the tops of the tall pines and tried to ignore the ache in her bones. She inhaled. "Murghat."
A wizened kobold dropped down from the branches. "Horde-Mother," he said warily, "You sent for me?"
"Tell me. What do the bones say?"
"Let me see." Murghat spilled the contents of a small leather pouch into the snow. He hissed, spat onto the ground. "Nothing."
Lashka smiled. "Good - Urgho," she called out, "Let's get them back to the town."
"Lashka," Murghat said. She ignored him. "Lashka." He tugged at the fur-lined hem of her cloak.
Lashka growled. "How dare you!" She kicked at him with her boot. "I am your Mother!"
Murghat bowed. "Forgiveness. But Lashka does not understand. There is nothing. The bones do not speak because the bones are no longer tied to the land."
Lashka seethed. To address her so familiarly, as a mate would; she should kill him.
"What do you mean? Tell me, seer...." The ache in Lashka's bones twisted like a hot knife and she gasped. She grabbed the front of the seer's leather tunic. "Tell me."
"Ashkur'maht," Murghat whispered and spat again, "Ashk Harim has called for ashkur'maht, my Mother-No-Longer."
Lashka shuddered. She imagined she could feel the ground trembling as the entire city of Ashk Harim moved, could hear the iron horns that had not been sounded in a thousand years roiling across the valley. Her bowels felt loose and watery. Rune-sickness, the seers called it: the magical aftereffect of having one's earth-hold ripped away in an instant.
She was a casualty of the blood-magic, now; homeless without a people.She had miscalculated Ushka. Badly.
Ushka, I will find you, and eat your heart; I promise you.
She looked at the men. Her eyes stung. "How long until they abandon me?"
Murghat shook his head. "I do not wish this. But I must tell them, Mother-That-Was. I am honor-bound."
"Yes," she said, "I know." Her hand moved too fast for him to follow; Murghat fell forward into the snow, his neck a gaping ruin.
It is too late for peace; now is the hour of sacrifice. She had truly liked the old seer. But this was necessary.
"Murghat!" she cried, leaping from her saddle to cradle his body. Her orcs moved instinctively to protect her.
She wiped the blood away from Murghat's mouth. "The humans are false with their words," she said, "treachery is their only coin; they have killed the seer."
Lashka looked out among the faces of her orcs, who would not question her until she found Urgho. His eyes alone refused to meet hers, but then he nodded.
Lashka gently lowered Murghat to the ground.
"Kill them. Kill them all."