[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  After ten days of travel, they reached known territory and their sapaha headed home. The travelers followed a path that increasingly showed signs of use and encountered a broad stream spanned by a small stone footbridge. On the other side, the path diverged. Kovok-mah approached Dar. “This stream flows into river crossed by Flis Muthi.”

  “One washavokis call Turgen?”

  “Hai,” replied Kovok-mah. He paused, reluctant to continue. “It is here we must part.”

  “Not yet,” said Dar. “My chest is breaking.”

  “Your chest is big, Dargu. It’s too strong to break.”

  “I wish it would,” said Dar. She sighed. “Yet it won’t. Let us speak awhile before you go.”

  “I’ll speak as long as you want.”

  “Then you’ll have to speak forever,” said Dar. “Come.” She took Kovok-mah’s hand, and led him down the stream’s sandy bank. There, Dar kicked off her sandals to wade into the water. It flowed clear and cool around her legs. Kovok-mah joined her. Dar smiled. “Remember when you made me bathe?”

  “You were frightened,” said Kovok-mah. “Yet even then, you were fierce.”

  “You said Weasel was good name for me.”

  “It still is.”

  “You also said I smelled.”

  Kovok-mah enfolded Dar within his arms and breathed deeply. “I lacked wisdom then. Your scent is beautiful.”

  As Kovok-mah held Dar, she felt him trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, and the effort to suppress her sobs made her tremble also. “Dargu,” whispered Kovok-mah. “Muth la doesn’t speak to sons, but I know this—she brought us together and she’ll do so again.”

  Dar wished she was as equally certain, but none of her visions foretold such happiness. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bear to disagree. “Hai,” she said. “I’ll feel your arms again. But not soon enough. You should go now.”

  Kovok-mah released Dar. She stood still and stared into the distance, unable to watch him go. Yet she listened for each footstep as he walked away. Dar remained in the river until her feet were numb. All the while, she wished it hadn’t mattered that she and Kovok-mah weren’t blessed. If he were washavoki, this would have ended differently. We’d have run off together. Yet Dar knew Kovok-mah would never dishonor her, not even to make her happy.

  Nineteen

  When Dar climbed up the bank, Zna-yat was waiting for her. He held out Dar’s old washavoki clothing. Dar understood his hint. “Why shouldn’t I dress as mother?”

  “News travels quickly among urkzimmuthi. Kath-mah not only has wise nose, she is wise in other ways.”

  “Kath-mah?” said Dar. “Do you mean Kovok-mah’s muthuri?”

  “Hai. When she smells his atur, she will seek to learn what mothers he has been with.”

  “Won’t she just ask?”

  “That’s not done,” replied Zna-yat. “She’ll wait for him to speak of his velazul. Meanwhile, she’ll try to guess.”

  “I see,” said Dar. “I’m glad you understand Kath-mah so well.” She eyed her old garments with distaste. “I’ll be less glad to wear those again.”

  After Dar changed, she followed Zna-yat on a path that headed downstream. The stream soon joined a river and they passed several empty fishing camps. They walked until sunset, then camped in one. Though Zna-yat offered to hold Dar, he looked relieved when she chose to sleep on the ground.

  The following day, Dar and Zna-yat encountered an orc settlement. They stopped for directions and Zna-yat explained that they were survivors of a battle. “This washavoki saved my life,” he said, pointing to Dar. “Now it flees with me.”

  The orcs looked at Dar curiously. “It looks too small to save you.”

  “It’s small, but cruel,” replied Zna-yat.

  “Don’t you fear it?” asked one of the orcs.

  “Thwa, it has grown peaceful.”

  “Are you sure?” asked another orc, eyeing Dar’s dagger.

  Zna-yat made a gesture that was the equivalent of a shrug. “Well, peaceful for washavoki.”

  Throughout the exchange, Dar pretended she couldn’t understand Orcish. She didn’t speak until the settlement was out of sight. Then she hissed. “So I’m cruel but peaceful? I thought urkzimmuthi did not speak words without meaning.”

  “Your power must be hidden,” replied Zna-yat, “so I said little. But what I said made sense.”

  “I’ve killed, so I guess I’m cruel,” said Dar, “but I don’t feel peaceful.”

  Dar and Zna-yat traveled openly, but unobtrusively, for five days. When they approached the valley of the Yat clan, Dar donned her urkzimmuthi clothing. “I am mother, and that’s how I’ll enter your hall.”

  Zna-yat bowed. “It could not be otherwise.”

  The Yat clan’s valley twisted, so the clan hall was long hidden. At first, Dar saw only meadows containing sheep, goats, and small huts where shepherds dwelled in the summer. Soon, Zna-yat began to encounter kinfolk upon the road. Each time, he stopped to tell his story. All were amazed that he had returned alive, for news of the deadly battle had preceded him. They were equally amazed by Dar and by the way Zna-yat introduced her. He told everyone that she was a mother who had saved his life and guided him through many dangers. The encounters grew ever more frequent, so the final part of Dar’s journey was drawn out, and she realized that news of her arrival would reach the hall long before she did.

  At last, Dar rounded a bend and beheld a small mountain at the valley’s end. Terraces covered its sides like green shingles, and the Yat clan hall crowned its top. Even from a distance, it looked large and impressive. It reminded Dar of Tarathank, not the homey dwellings of Muth-pah and Muth-goth. “That’s your hall?” she said in an awed voice.

  “Hai. Queen lived there,” said Zna-yat. “One day, she will again.”

  Dar didn’t know the Orcish word for “palace,” but the hall seemed one to her. That impression increased as she and Zna-yat neared it. Upon reaching the mountain, the road zigzagged among the terraced fields until it reached the summit, which was entirely covered by the great stone building. It seemed to have grown there, with vaulted roofs that mimicked the curves of weathered rock. Like Tarathank, it lacked military structures. It was a home, albeit one the size of a small town, not a fortification. Dar was both puzzled and fascinated by the way its arched windows reflected the light. “Why do windows sparkle?” she asked.

  “They’re covered with sand ice,” replied Zna-yat, “so rooms are filled with light, yet warm. You’ll like it here, Dargu.”

  Dar gestured agreement, though she actually doubted it. Having spent her life in a one-room hut, she suspected she would feel out of place in such a grand hall. She trudged up the road with growing apprehension until she reached the hall’s arched entrance. It contained a pair of large doors with elaborate, decorative hinges. Two sons who wore no armor and bore no weapons opened it on their approach. A young mother stood inside the doorway and addressed Zna-yat in Orcish. “Brother! I thought I’d never see you again!”

  “I’m here due to this mother,” replied Zna-yat, bowing toward Dar.

  “Our muthuri wishes to greet this one,” said Zna-yat’s sister. “Lead it…Lead her to our hanmuthi.”

  Dar said nothing. She followed Zna-yat and his sister down a long hallway, which was illuminated from above by sand ice skylights. The hall curved like a wiggling snake, and Dar assumed each turn marked the outer wall of a different hanmuthi. That meant the hanmuthi of Zna-yat’s muthuri was the fourth one inside the hall. Its entrance was a stone archway carved to resemble trees with interlocking branches. The stonework, though impressive, lacked the finesse of the carvings in Tarathank.

  A short hallway led to a circular room with a raised hearth in its center and a copper chimney that extended from the ceiling. Arches pierced the room’s outer wall. Most of these were doorways to adjoining chambers, but three were windows with panes of sand ice. The windows amazed Dar so much, she didn’t notice the m
other seated on a carved wooden stool until she spoke. “Greetings,” said the mother in the human tongue. “I am Zor-yat. Zna-yat is my son.”

  Dar bowed. “Mer nav Dargu,” she said. “Mer pahav Pahmuthi.” I am Dargu. I speak Orcish.

  “You speak it well,” replied Zor-yat in Orcish. She continued in the same language. “I hear you saved my son.”

  “Hai. I believe it was Muth la’s will.”

  “Perhaps it was,” said Zor-yat. “Yet it was your deed.” She bowed. “You’ll always have place here.”

  Dar bowed more deeply than Zor-yat. “Shashav, Mother.”

  Zor-yat nodded toward Zna-yat’s sister. “This is Nir-yat, who is yet unblessed. She’ll make you welcome.”

  The introduction was evidently the signal for Nir-yat to lead Dar away, which she did. Dar followed her through one of the doorways and down a long hallway to a small, unfurnished chamber. One wall featured a window similar to the ones in the hanmuthi, but smaller. “We’ll share this chamber,” said Nir-yat, who didn’t look happy about it.

  “It’s so beautiful!” said Dar, trying to appear appreciative. Being far from the hearth, the room was chilly despite the sunlight streaming in from the window. Already, she was tempted to adjust her kefs so one of the capes covered her chest. Yet because Nir-yat remained bare-breasted, Dar did also. She continued to praise the room. “I’ve never seen such floor,” she said, pointing to the mosaics that decorated it and marked Muth la’s Embrace. “It’s like walking on flowers.” As Dar stepped over to examine the window, two sons entered the room. One bore a wooden chest under each arm. The second carried a rolled-up mat and iron cube with perforated sides, metal feet, and an insulated handle. Embers glowed inside it, warming the room.

  “Muthuri says your kind sleeps lying down,” said Nir-yat. “She has ordered thing called ‘bed’ to be made for you. It will arrive before night.”

  “Your muthuri is both wise and gracious,” replied Dar.

  “Perhaps you wish to bathe now.”

  Dar nearly smiled at Nir-yat’s transparency. Poor thing, she thought, stuck with a smelly washavoki. “Hai. I’d like that very much.”

  While Dar washed, Zor-yat interrogated her son. “You left to slay washavokis,” she said. “Now you bring one to our hall. Why?”

  Though Zna-yat towered over his muthuri, her scornful gaze intimidated him. “She’s here by Muth la’s will.”

  “Muth la’s will! What do you know of such matters?”

  “Twice I tried to kill Dargu. Once, I threw her in river and watched her sink. Yet tree pulled her from water.”

  “Not every tree is Muth la.”

  “I came to think this also,” replied Zna-yat, “so I sought her death again. Yet Dargu foresaw my own death and prevented it. She slew washavokis so I might live.”

  “It slew its own kind?”

  “Her own kind, Muthuri. Take care how you speak. Dargu has bitten my neck.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Because I can serve both you and her. She’s not our enemy.”

  “Have you learned nothing about washavokis?”

  “Dargu is different. Muth la sends her visions. I think Dargu was sent to aid us. Already, she has led sons through many dangers and risked her life on our behalf. She also spoke with Velasa-pah and entered darkness to guide Muth-pah.”

  Zor-yat started at the mention of Velasa-pah, but she regained her composure before her son noticed. “Guiding Muth-pah accomplished nothing. Her clan is lost and will remain so.”

  “Dargu caused them to change their ways,” replied Zna-yat. “Doesn’t that show Muth la’s hand at work?”

  “You speak of matters beyond your knowledge. Keep silent, lest your foolish tales stir up trouble.”

  Zna-yat bowed his head submissively.

  “Everything you say surprises me,” said Zor-yat. She took her time before making a judgment. “Perhaps you’ve acted wisely,” she said at last. “This washavoki has bitten your neck, so I’ll honor your obligation. I don’t yet know what honor Dargu merits. Maybe none.”

  “Much,” said Zna-yat.

  Zor-yat curled back her lips. “You grow bold in her behalf.” She flashed her son a knowing look. “Already, you keep things from me.”

  Zna-yat looked away.

  “Soon, I’ll bring Dargu before my sister,” said Zor-yat. “Afterward, we’ll decide this washavoki’s fate.”

  Knowing that he had made Dar’s case as forcefully as he dared, Zna-yat bowed to his muthuri and left the room.

  Twenty

  Dar gazed listlessly out the window of her room, wondering what her place would be in the community beyond it. If I’m to have one. All Dar knew was that whoever was making that decision was taking her time. Already Dar had been waiting for two days.

  Nir-yat interrupted Dar’s musings with yet another question. “How did you learn speech of mothers?”

  “One son taught me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I asked him.”

  “But why would he agree?”

  “I think I amused him,” said Dar. She smiled. “He said I was fierce.”

  Nir-yat’s expression underwent a subtle transformation. “Who was this son?”

  “Someone from another clan,” said Dar, suspecting her scent had betrayed her feelings. “We have parted.”

  Nir-yat didn’t press the matter, but Dar worried that she already had revealed too much. “What’s going to happen to me?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Muth-yat will decide.”

  “Do you know when?”

  “Whenever she’s ready. Meanwhile, I’ll keep you company.”

  To learn everything you can, thought Dar. She had quickly figured out that Nir-yat was a spy, though not a skilled one. Like most orcs Dar had encountered, the young mother asked questions directly, and Dar supposed Nir-yat wouldn’t deny that she passed on the answers. Dar’s situation was complicated by the fact that Nir-yat was her only source of information, for the two were kept isolated. Normally, sleeping chambers adjoined the hanmuthi and meals were eaten communally; yet Dar and Nir-yat seldom left their room. Even when they bathed, they used a basin, not the communal pool.

  Through conversations with Nir-yat, Dar began to form a picture of life in the Yat clan hall. Much of it was similar to that in any orc settlement. The principal difference was the Yat clan was the governing clan. Matriarchs of the other clans met in the hall to receive guidance from the queen. They still did, although the queen resided in Taiben, recovering from a mysterious malady. Dar was surprised to learn the queen lived among the washavokis. Although Kovok-mah had said she received “strong healing magic” from them, Dar had assumed it was a cure, not ongoing treatment. Since the queen’s relocation, edicts arrived via sons who served in the orc regiments.

  Dar was also surprised to learn the queen was Zor-yat’s sister, as was Muth-yat, the Yat clan matriarch. From her travels, Dar assumed that the oldest mothers always held the highest standing, and she didn’t expect mothers in their middle years to rule a clan. Nir-yat explained why they did, but her explanation was sketchy. It involved something called “Fathma,” which Dar imagined was an attribute similar to charisma.

  The Yat clan had other halls besides the one Dar was staying in. All the eastern clans were large and spread out. Only the “lost” Pah clan occupied a single hall. Nir-yat spoke of them dismissively as an expiring relic fixated on the past. “They still believe Velasa-pah’s prophecies,” she said. “Though none have ever come to pass.”

  “What prophecies are those?” asked Dar.

  Nir-yat hissed. “Predictions history proved wrong. Only lorekeepers remember them now.”

  As her isolation dragged on, Dar became convinced that Muth-yat would see her only when she felt adequately informed. Thus, Dar answered all questions truthfully—if not always completely—and volunteered additional information. Yet she chose not to reveal her feelings for Kovok-mah, or ev
en mention him, until she knew how those feelings would be received.

  In time, Nir-yat’s disdain dissipated. Dar’s accounts of hardship and peril fascinated the young mother, who never tired of hearing about her brother’s rescue. On the fourth morning, Nir-yat gently stroked Dar’s scarred ankle during a retelling of the fight with Zna-yat’s captors. In a voice filled with compassion, Nir-yat said, “How could washavokis treat one mother so?” At that moment, Dar realized she had won Nir-yat over. Later, Nir-yat left and didn’t return until late afternoon.

  Shortly afterward, Dar was called before Muth-yat. The matriarch was seated in a room of special magnificence. It was circular, like a hanmuthi, but there was no hearth in its center. Instead, there was an elevated stone seat. Though it lacked a back or arms, its size and the richness of its carvings convinced Dar that it was a throne. All the arches in the room’s wall contained windows, which offered a view of the surrounding mountains.

  Muth-yat was seated on a stool at the throne’s base. Zor-yat sat close by. Dar could tell the two mothers were sisters; both possessed similar features and imposing bearings. After Dar’s escort left the room, the matriarch nodded her head. “I am Muth-yat.”

  Dar bowed deeply. “I’m Dargu.”

  “I know of your deeds and how you came to bite my sister’s son’s neck,” said Muth-yat. “Now, we shall speak of deeper things.” With that, she launched her interrogation. Nir-yat had told Muth-yat everything, so the matriarch’s questions were very specific. Most of them concerned four events: Dar’s dream of the mage trying to find her as she hid beneath a veil of leaves; her vision of the urkzimmuthi mother by the hedge; her encounter with Velasa-pah; and the time Dar entered darkness with Muth-pah. Both the matriarch and her sister grilled Dar until the sun set and the room grew dark. Finally, the questioning was over. Muth-yat clapped her hands and a son entered the room. “Dargu is finished here,” she said. “Take her back to her room.”

  Dar bowed and left no wiser about her fate.