[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  “Are you badly hurt?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Dargu’s ankle was bitten,” replied Zna-yat.

  “It hurts, but bone isn’t broken,” said Dar. “Zna-yat’s wounds are greater.”

  “Thwa,” said Zna-yat. “They are small.”

  Kovok-mah examined Dar’s ankle. It was still bleeding and had begun to swell. “Zna-yat was wise to carry you,” he said. He scrutinized his cousin’s face. “Something else has happened.”

  “Hai,” replied Zna-yat. “Dargu has bitten my neck.”

  Kovok-mah appeared dumbfounded, and Dar couldn’t tell at first whether he was pleased or dismayed. She glanced at the others. They looked equally astonished. Witnessing the orcs’ reactions made Dar appreciate the momentousness of Zna-yat’s announcement.

  As surprise slowly faded from Kovok-mah’s face, his lips curled into a broad smile. “I’m much amazed.”

  Zna-yat grinned back. “No less than I.”

  Dar broke the silence that followed. “Kovok-mah, do you have magic for Zna-yat’s wounds?”

  “I’ll need to find proper herbs,” he replied.

  “You should do it quickly,” said Dar. “We must be far from here by morning.”

  While Kovok-mah left to find the plants he needed, the other orcs washed the blood from Dar’s and Zna-yat’s wounds. As they worked, Dar gave an account of the brush with the hunters, but she didn’t speak of what transpired between her and Zna-yat. When she finished, Zna-yat added, “I was captured because I tried to slay Dargu.”

  His frankness surprised Dar, but not the orcs. “I’ve smelled your anger for long time,” said Duth-tok. “I’m glad you’re free of it at last.”

  “Hai,” said Lama-tok. “Now there’ll be harmony.”

  “Even sons can see this is Muth la’s work,” said Varz-hak. “You were wise to bare your neck. Dargu will make good use of it.”

  “I know this now,” said Zna-yat, bowing his head toward Dar.

  As Dar listened to this talk, she realized how isolated she had been. No one had spoken to her about Zna-yat’s hatred, not even Kovok-mah. She still didn’t fully understand the consequences of biting Zna-yat’s neck. I lead them, but we seldom speak. I know nothing about their lives, except that Kovok-mah is fond of goats. She resolved to change that.

  Kovok-mah returned, carrying several different plants. “Muth la has provided. I’ve found what I need.”

  “Tend Zna-yat first,” said Dar. “He has more wounds.”

  “Thwa,” said Zna-yat.

  “I’ll decide,” said Kovok-mah. “Even mothers obey healers.” He counted out five small green berries and handed them to Dar. Then he gave a larger number to Zna-yat. “Chew these very well,” he said, “then swallow them.”

  Dar popped the berries into her mouth and bit down. Their bitterness nearly made her gag. Dar forced herself to chew. By the time she swallowed, Kovok-mah was holding her ankle as he chewed a mouthful of herbs and spit greenish saliva into her wound. It burned and tingled at first; then numbness followed. Afterward, Kovok-mah swabbed the tooth punctures with a mashed leaf. Before he turned his attention to Zna-yat, he asked Dar about the route they would take that night.

  “Why do you need to know that?” asked Dar.

  Kovok-mah handed Dar a large, fuzzy leaf. “You’ll sleep after you chew this.”

  “I can’t sleep. Not tonight,” said Dar. “We must leave here.”

  “I’ll carry you while you sleep,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Thwa,” said Dar. “If we meet washavokis, I must speak with them.”

  “I’m healer,” said Kovok-mah, “and I think sleep is best for you.”

  “You must heed Dargu,” said Zna-yat. “Carry her, but don’t give her leaf.”

  “Nayimgat not only gives sleep,” said Kovok-mah, “it also heals.”

  “I’ll chew some tomorrow,” said Dar. “Tonight, I’ll need my wits.”

  Kovok-mah didn’t argue further. Instead, he put fresh herbs in his mouth and turned to treat Zna-yat’s wounds. Once all of them were cleansed and numbed, and the dog bites were swabbed, he sewed up the gash in Zna-yat’s arm. By the time he was finished, it was night.

  Soon, Dar was being carried down the dark, empty road. She could only hope that they hadn’t gone astray. Asking directions was out of the question. Sooner or later, the slain hunters would be discovered, and Dar wanted no one recalling travelers on the road. Thus, while she and the orcs disguised themselves as cursed ones, they muffled the bell and moved as quickly and silently as possible.

  They encountered no one. As the night progressed, Dar grew less anxious. The herbs dulled the pain in her ankle, and being carried had a lulling effect. Resting her head upon Kovok-mah’s shoulder, Dar gazed into the night through half-closed eyes. When she spotted the fire, she was unsure if she was dreaming or having another vision. Its flames burned behind them, not by the road ahead. They grew ever smaller as Kovok-mah bore her away. Eventually, the blaze seemed little different from the stars that filled the sky, and just as distant.

  Nine

  When dawn approached, the orcs hid in a wood. Since Dar had been prevented from begging, there was nothing to eat. For her, at least, hunger became irrelevant after Kovok-mah had her chew the healing leaf that caused her to sleep. When she awoke, it was night. The orcs sat motionless about her. Kovok-mah’s eyes glowed pale green in the starlight. The other orcs slept. “Why didn’t you wake me?” Dar asked. “We must begin our journey.”

  “It’s too late to travel,” said Kovok-mah. “Golden eye will rise soon.”

  “You mean we wasted whole night?”

  “We wasted nothing,” said Kovok-mah. “You needed to rest.”

  Dar felt her ankle. It was no longer hot and swollen. She flexed her foot. There was less pain. She smiled. “So, even mothers obey healers?”

  “Wise ones do,” replied Kovok-mah.

  “And you give nayimgat leaves to those who don’t.”

  “If they’re fierce or stubborn, it’s good magic.”

  “Then why would you give it to me?” teased Dar.

  “Because you’re both,” replied Kovok-mah.

  Dar wondered if those traits had scents and, if they did, what they smelled like. She didn’t bother to ask. When orcs spoke of scents, she felt like a blind person hearing about rainbows.

  “When morning comes and washavokis wake,” said Dar, “I’ll try to get food.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said Kovok-mah. “We gathered much food yesterday.”

  “So, you took risks while I slept.”

  “Not so many,” said Kovok-mah. “Few washavokis live here. Our ancestors once farmed this land and their crops now grow wild.” Kovok-mah gestured to a large pile of tubers, roots, and fleshy leaf stalks.

  “It looks like you feasted,” said Dar.

  “Not yet,” said Kovok-mah. “Mothers own food.”

  “You’ve been waiting for me to serve it?”

  “That is proper way.”

  The prospect of ample food and a day of rest filled Dar with a sense of well-being. It surpassed the peace she had felt at Garlsholding, for it was more than the absence of fear. As a bondmaid, no one cared about her. The orcs clearly did. Relaxed, and still sleepy, Dar yawned.

  “Ground is cold in morning,” said Kovok-mah, folding his cloak to cushion his lap.

  Dar took the hint and climbed upon it. He wrapped his arms about her. “Ground is cold,” she said. “I’m glad you’re so warm.”

  The food that the orcs had gathered was new to Dar. Thung was a succulent leaf stalk filled with thick sap that reminded Dar a little of broth. Brak was a tuber with crunchy yellow flesh that had a nutty flavor. The pashi roots were bland, but filling. The meal was satisfyingly ample. It also reminded the orcs of home and turned their thoughts in its direction.

  “Air was clear yesterday,” said Duth-tok. “I saw Blath Urkmuthi.”

  “Did mountains look close?” asked Dar.
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  “Thwa, but it was good to see them,” said Duth-tok.

  Lama-tok sighed. “I long to work their bones again.”

  “Hai,” said Duth-tok. “Kip and bakt fit hand better than sword.”

  “What’s ‘kip’ and ‘bakt’?” asked Dar.

  “Tools to shape stone,” said Duth-tok. He made the motions of striking a chisel with a hammer. “Hit kip with bakt.”

  “You worked stone?” asked Dar.

  “Hai,” said Lama-tok. “Tok clan is famed for it.”

  “Lama and I built Zna-yat’s vathem,” said Duth-tok.

  Dar turned to Zna-yat. “What’s that? House?”

  Zna-yat smiled. “House for mice, perhaps. Vathem is wall to make even ground on slope. There are many vathems around our homes. Mountainsides look like this.” He traced imaginary terraces in the air.

  “You farm?” said Dar. “I thought you were soldier.”

  “Killing isn’t proper work,” said Zna-yat. “At home, I grow brak and pashi. Kovok-mah raises goats and makes hard milk. Varz-hak makes sand ice.”

  “Sand ice? What’s that?” asked Dar.

  “Special wisdom of Hak clan,” said Varz-hak. “We have way to melt sand. When it cools, it is clear and hard like ice, but not cold.”

  “You can see through little door of sand ice,” said Kovok-mah, “but rain and wind do not come in.”

  Dar imagined shutters that wouldn’t darken a hut. “That would be useful.”

  “Hai,” said Varz-hak. “Even washavokis desire them. I also make sand ice vessels to store things. You can see what’s inside.”

  “If you drop them, they break,” said Kovok-mah. He laughed. “Hak clan wise to make things everyone wants and everyone breaks.”

  “You have such useful skills,” said Dar. “Why do you fight?”

  “Sons must protect mothers,” said Kovok-mah.

  “How does fighting for washavoki king protect mothers?” asked Dar.

  “I don’t know,” said Kovok-mah. “That is queen’s wisdom.”

  “Perhaps,” said Zna-yat, “if we do not fight for washavoki king, washavokis will attack urkzimmuthi land.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said Dar, thinking Zna-yat had a better grasp of human ruthlessness than the others.

  “Long ago,” said Kovok-mah, “urkzimmuthi did not fight. We made no weapons. None wore death’s hard clothes.”

  “Those were lessons washavokis taught our ancestors,” said Zna-yat.

  No wonder you hate them, thought Dar. “They were cruel lessons,” she said.

  “Hai,” said Zna-yat, “but you’ll teach us different ones.”

  “I have no lessons for you,” said Dar.

  “You will,” said Zna-yat.

  Once again, Dar marveled at Zna-yat’s conversion. Two days ago, he was plotting my death. Now he talks as if I have a special destiny. Though the idea made Dar uncomfortable, she appreciated how Zna-yat’s transformation affected the others. It put them at ease, and they were talkative for the first time. For a while, the conversation centered on the orcs’ occupations. Then Dar changed the subject to a more personal one, for she was curious to know if the orcs were married. She found it difficult to express the question in a way they understood. “Oh,” said Lama-tok after Dar’s third attempt, “Dargu asks if we have muthvashi.”

  “Only young sons fight,” said Kovok-mah. “Those with muthvashi stay home.”

  “So none of you have muthvashi?” asked Dar.

  “Thwa,” said Kovok-mah.

  “I think Duth-tok will soon,” said Lama-tok. “Our muthuri has wise nose.”

  “What does that mean?” said Dar.

  Kovok-mah smiled at Dar’s confusion. “When muthuri considers who should be her son’s muthvashi, she’s wise to heed her nose.”

  “Why is that?” asked Dar.

  “When two care for one another, it’s easy to detect,” said Kovok-mah.

  “It can be smelled?”

  “Hai,” said Duth-tok. “Scent is pleasing.”

  “I thought such smells were neither pleasing nor unpleasing,” said Dar.

  Duth-tok smiled. “When scent comes from mother you care for, it’s very pleasing.”

  Dar wondered if it was the fragrance of love or desire. The question seemed too intimate to ask. Instead, she asked a different one. “What is this scent called?”

  “Atur,” said Duth-tok. “How I miss it!”

  Dar’s first leisure in many months had a celebratory air, as if she, too, were nearing home. She repaired her torn blouse, but otherwise spent the time resting or conversing. What Dar relished most was her newfound sense of belonging. She felt bound to her comrades, not just by need and common purpose, but also by mutual affection.

  When darkness fell, Dar and the orcs put on their disguises and resumed their journey. Dar’s ankle was tender, but she was able to walk. There was no need for her to seek offerings along the way, so they traveled without interruption. The land grew drier. Scrubland replaced forests. As the holdings they passed became smaller and more isolated, Dar worried less that the orcs would be overwhelmed if they were recognized. When dawn approached, they left the road and slept in a clump of brush.

  The following night was similar to the previous one, except the food ran out. The travelers slept through the day until the sun was low. Then Dar went out to approach holdings where she was given food to go away. Often, stones were thrown as she departed. It was dark before she had collected enough scraps for a meager dinner.

  As the travelers continued northward, the land rose imperceptibly and grew more arid as it did until it was nearly desert. When the moon rose and cast shadows, Dar discerned the traces of ancient channels on the barren plain. Though weathered to little more than a grid of shallow depressions, they were impressive in scope. Kovok-mah noticed Dar gazing at them. “Long ago, urkzimmuthi dug those to bring water from faraway river.”

  “This place was once called Greenplain,” said Zna-yat.

  “What happened?” asked Dar.

  “Washavokis came,” replied Zna-yat.

  The following day, Dar began approaching holdings early. She needed more time to collect food owing to the distance between settlements and because the offerings reflected the peasants’ poverty. By late afternoon, Dar had only a few moldy roots when she approached another holding. It looked deserted except for one hut where smoke issued from the eaves. Dar almost passed it by, but hunger spurred her to seek an offering. Striking her staff smartly on the ground to jangle its bell, she approached the hut, keeping a wary eye for thrown rocks.

  Usually, people appeared long before she reached the nearest building, but this time no one came out. Dar continued up the path toward the hut. She was very close before its door opened and a man emerged. He looked ancient, with a long white beard and skin as wrinkled as dried fruit, but he moved vigorously. He bore no food. “I fear not the cursed,” he said.

  “It’s more worthy to give from charity than fear,” said Dar.

  The man smiled. “You have a fair tongue, so I’ll give you something better than food.” He bounded to where Dar stood and snatched the bandage wrapped about her face. His smile broadened into a grin. “See, I’ve restored your nose. Shall I return your missing fingers next?”

  Dar stood silent and red-faced.

  “Your toes gave you away,” said the man. “The cursed lose those first.”

  Dar began to back toward the road, wondering if she would have to defend herself.

  “Don’t go,” said the man. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “What?” said Dar.

  “The feathers foretold deception,” replied the man. “It’s your defining trait.”

  Dar wondered if the man was crazy.

  The old man ignored Dar’s suspicious look. “Sup with me. It can’t be pleasant to brave scorn and stones for scraps.”

  “Thank you, but I must go.”

  “Back to the others?”

 
“Others?” said Dar. “There are no others.”

  “Aye, that’s the deception again,” said the man, his eyes crinkling with amusement. He looked at Dar’s small, rag-wrapped bundle of roots. “That won’t feed six.”

  Dar backed farther away, trying not to look surprised.

  “Ther nat suthi na breeth,” said the man. You are wise to be cautious.

  Dar halted.

  “Washavokis are cruel and treacherous,” said the man. “Only they would brand a mother. Kramav thwa ma. Ma nat urkzimmuthi.” Fear me not. I am urkzimmuthi.

  “Tha gavat thwa urkzimmuthi,” replied Dar. You do not seem urkzimmuthi.

  The man smiled and parted the hairs of his beard to give Dar a glimpse of black lines tattooed beneath it. “I was born washavoki, but this is my urkzimmuthi clan tattoo. My clan name is Velasa-pah.”

  “The first part means ‘one who sees,’” said Dar. “That seems appropriate. The urkzimmuthi call me ‘weasel.’”

  Velasa-pah nodded. “I think ‘Dargu’ is a fitting name for you.”

  “You talk as if you know me,” said Dar, feeling both mystified and wary. “I’ve no idea who you are.”

  “I’m a relic,” said Velasa-pah. “When I was young, this land was green and the urkzimmuthi lived in peace.”

  Dar stared at the old man in disbelief. “That was many ages ago!”

  “Muth la has preserved my life. Come inside. We’ll consult the feathers.”

  Velasa-pah turned and walked toward the hut, clearly expecting Dar to follow. She hesitated and watched him. He didn’t look dangerous. Indeed, Dar wondered why he had seemed vigorous before, for his gait faltered. Velasa-pah paused at the entrance to his hut. “Come,” he said, “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

  Dar felt compelled to obey. She entered the hut. A kettle bubbled over a small fire, filling the air with a savory aroma. “That’s muthtufa,” said Velasa-pah, gesturing at the pot. “Good urkzimmuthi stew. Your friends will enjoy it.” He pointed to a large sack nearby. “There’s enough brak and pashi in there to get you to Blath Urkmuthi.” He smiled at Dar’s puzzled look. “As I said—you were expected.”

  Dar glanced about the hut. Though its exterior walls had been square, its interior ones were circular. A row of stones was set into the ground at the hut’s entrance to complete the circle formed by the walls. “We’re within the Embrace of Muth la,” she said.