[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter

by Morgan Howell

  “Who prepared that magic?”

  “The mage.”

  “Does the queen know it’s in her food?”

  “I’m a cook. Magic’s not my concern. Yers neither.”

  Davot hurried off to supervise the banquet’s preparation, leaving Dar with Fertha, the queen’s former serving woman. Fertha was more than happy to relinquish her duties. “It’s a long climb ta the chamber,” she said. “Ye have ta light yer own torches on the way and wash and change afore ye serve. There’s a place outside her door fer that.”

  “What can you tell me about the queen?”

  “It’s an orc, so what’s there ta tell? I’d rather serve hounds, but I guess yer used ta them.”

  Dar colored, but replied evenly. “I am. When should I serve her dinner?”

  “Not afore the king dines. That wouldn’t be proper. When his banquet starts, I’ll show ye the way.”

  A short while later, Dar climbed a narrow spiral stairway lugging a hamper containing the queen’s dinner. Fertha led the way. The queen’s chamber was on the sixth floor. Once Fertha reached it, she took Dar down a long passage to a small room. A torch on the wall illuminated a copper basin filled with water, some blue robes hanging on hooks, and two doorways. “The door ta the left goes ta the orc’s room. Ye’ve served orcs afore, so ye know ’bout the bathing and the robes. Ye can wait here while she eats, then bring the dishes down. Put out the torches as ye go.” After those instructions, Fertha hurried off.

  The bathwater was scented with flowers rather than herbs. It was cold, but Dar scrubbed herself thoroughly. When she was done, she donned one of the blue serving robes, took a deep breath, and entered the orc queen’s room.

  The door opened noiselessly and Dar had left her shoes in the outer chamber. Thus she caught the queen unawares. She was gazing out a window at the Urkheit Mountains. Although it was dusk, no lamp or torch illuminated the chamber. Even so, Dar could see it was richly decorated, though as sparsely furnished as any hanmuthi. A stool, a sleeping mat, and a pair of chests were the sole furniture. A circle painted on the floor marked Muth la’s Embrace. The queen sat in its center on the stool, facing away from Dar. She wore a long robe similar to those noble women wore in court. A thin gold band encircled her head.

  Dar set the hamper on the floor, then bowed very low. “Tava, Muth Mauk.” Greetings, Great Mother.

  The queen continued to gaze out the window, but answered in a dull voice. “Ga pahak Pahmuthi.” It speaks Orcish.

  “Mer nav urkzimmuthi.” I am orcish.

  Upon hearing Dar’s reply, the queen turned around, causing Dar to gasp with astonishment. “Muth Mauk,” she said in Orcish, “I’ve seen you before.”

  The queen replied in the same tongue. “My mind is filled with mist. I don’t recall.”

  “I had vision of you. It was Nuf Bahi, and I was beginning journey. You asked where I was.”

  The queen rose unsteadily. She reminded Dar of Zor-yat and Muth-yat, but she looked gaunt and confused. She shuffled over to Dar and touched her chin. “You don’t look urkzimmuthi, but that mark…”

  “I was reborn. I’m Dargu-yat. Zor-yat is my muthuri.”

  Dar expected the queen to react to her sister’s name, but she only looked troubled. “Mist,” said the queen in a distracted voice. “Everything is mist.”

  “Zor-yat is your sister.”

  “Sister? I have sister?”

  “You have two. They’re worried about you. Don’t you remember them?”

  “I smell muthtufa,” said the queen. “I remember that.” She moved toward the hamper.

  Dar snatched it up, then bowed very low. “Don’t eat it, Mother. Have boiled roots instead.”

  The queen’s expression turned petulant. “Why?”

  “I think it’s poisoned. That may be why your head is filled with mist.”

  “Poisoned?” The queen seemed straining to recall something. After a long silence, she asked, “Are you really urkzimmuthi?”

  “Hai, Mother. Magic has made me so.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Whose magic?”

  “Your sisters’ magic. Zor-yat and Muth-yat.”

  “Why are you here?”

  With sudden and startling clarity, Dar knew the answer. “Muth la has sent me to save you.”

  Thirty-four

  The kitchen was dark when Dar returned from Muth Mauk’s chamber. She poured the untouched muthtufa into slop pails, wondering if it would poison the royal swine. After cleaning up, she crawled onto Bea’s mattress, but sleep didn’t come. Instead, Dar pondered what to do. Her conversation with the lonely queen had been disheartening. Mostly, Muth Mauk had rambled incoherently. She seemed thoroughly addled, though there were glimmers of awareness. At those times, she appeared to struggle against the potion that ensnared her mind. Those brief moments seemed all the more poignant after derangement returned.

  Due to the queen’s confusion, Dar learned little by talking to her. Muth Mauk was vague about how she came to the palace or why she remained, though she appeared afraid to leave. She seemed to believe the king was fighting for the orcs, not the other way around. Dar worried that the queen’s wits were irreparably damaged, but hoped that Muth Mauk’s mind would clear if she ceased taking the potion. Dar had already devised a scheme to insure that the queen’s food would be free of it.

  Murdant Kol kept a room in Taiben. As Neena gazed about it, she was oppressed by its austerity. The dark, paneled walls lacked decoration, and the minimal furniture—a bed, a table, two stools, and a chest—was plainly made. She felt that the abode perfectly reflected the severity of its occupant, who watched her from across the table. His cold blue eyes held a trace of amusement. “Well, Neena, you got your request. You’re in the city. Just remember—only your head needs to return to camp.”

  “A severed head speaks not.”

  “I’ve always thought that was its virtue.”

  “You’ll want to hear my tale.”

  “I doubt it. I’ve no use for women’s gossip.”

  “Dar lives,” said Neena. “I’ve seen her.” She noted with satisfaction that Murdant Kol’s face tightened, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. “She made a fool of you. She’s still doing it.”

  “Tell me where she is.”

  “I want something in return.”

  “What?”

  “I’m with child, and I don’t want to end up like Loral. I’ll speak if I can stay in Taiben.”

  Kol smiled. “Is that all?”

  “That’s enough for me. Arrange it so I never go on another march, I’ll tell you where Dar’s hiding.”

  “That’s easily done.”

  “Swear then. Swear by Karm as the High Murdant.”

  “I swear by Karm that if you reveal Dar’s whereabouts you’ll live out your days in Taiben. I swear this as High Murdant.” Kol made the sign of the Balance to seal his oath.

  Neena was satisfied. “The orcs brought Dar to camp seven days ago. She managed to get a message to a guardsman, some murdant named Cron. It was ‘Tell your countryman Twea’s mother wants to go to Taiben.’ The next day, a murdant took a bunch of women to clean the royal stables. Dar went with them, but she didn’t return.”

  “Is that all?” asked Kol. “She might be anywhere.”

  “Dar’s branded, so she can’t leave the city. Now that you know she’s here, she won’t be hard to find.”

  Kol nodded. “You’re right. So, Neena, would you like to work in the palace? I have connections. You could be a maid. After what you’ve been through, it’d be easy work.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll speak to my friend tomorrow.” Kol rose, opened the chest, and took out a bottle and a goblet. “This calls for a celebration. We both got what we wanted.” He sat down and poured a generous drink. “I’m afraid I only have one goblet. You can drink first. As I recall, you weren’t fond of Dar either.”

  Neena grinned. “I hold no gr
udges. After all, she’s helped me become a maid.” Neena raised the goblet. “To Dar.” Then she drained it in three gulps. The brandy was sweet with a hint of bitterness, and Neena enjoyed the way it warmed her stomach. Kol took the goblet and refilled it, but left it untouched. Instead of toasting, he watched Neena with a smile she found unnerving. “Aren’t you going to drink?” she asked.

  “I’m more discriminating than Teeg,” said Kol.

  The reference to Teeg alarmed Neena. As she tried to think of an innocent response, the warm sensation in her stomach became a burning. It grew ever more intense until she moaned and doubled over in pain. The room seemed to spin, and Neena tumbled from the stool. Lying on the floor, she couldn’t move. Neena saw only Kol’s boots as he rose and walked over to her. With his foot, he rolled her so she faced upward.

  Neena could barely make her mouth work. “Wh…?”

  “Why? Did you really think I hadn’t guessed? I merely saved the brandy you poisoned and bided my time.”

  “Bu…”

  “But I swore an oath?” Kol grinned. “I’ve kept it. You’re living out your days in Taiben.”

  Neena’s mouth quivered, but she was unable to make another sound. Kol watched the color drain from her face, which soon froze in an expression of pain and surprise. Then he drew his sword and dragged Neena’s body into the alley.

  The following day, Dar made muthtufa again, but this time she made two pots of it. One she cooked in the fire-place Davot had assigned her. She simmered the other inside an oven. No one in the busy kitchen paid notice. When dinner approached, Davot poured the vial of potion into the muthtufa simmering in the fireplace, and after he left, Dar exchanged the pot with the one in the oven.

  When Dar brought up dinner that night, the queen seemed little changed. If anything, she looked more haggard. However, after Muth Mauk ate, her eyes were clearer. “I think sun is rising,” she said. “Mist is burning off.” She smiled at Dar for the first time. “Zor-yat was always cleverest. And you say you are her daughter? Tell me how this is so.”

  Dar described her rebirth, but the queen’s attention seemed to wander. She was staring out the window when the tale was finished. A long while passed before she spoke. “It’s hard for me to think. Perhaps it will be easier tomorrow. For now, I’m still uncertain.”

  “Uncertain about what, Mother?”

  “Many things.” The queen smiled. “Call me Auntie and speak to me of home. It’s good to hear speech of mothers again.”

  By the time Dar returned to the kitchen, she felt encouraged. The poison’s hold on the queen seemed to be loosening. Perhaps, in a few more nights, I can tell her what the king has done. Dar thought it was too early to reveal the king’s treachery, for she doubted that Muth Mauk was yet capable of discretion. Discretion would be vital if Dar was to rescue her. How that might be accomplished was as uncertain as the queen’s health. Dar was sure of only one thing: Any mistake would be fatal.

  As Dar cleaned up, the daytime watch of the royal guard went off duty. Sevren retired to his room, but many of his comrades went to taverns. Murdant Kol headed for the same taverns, though he seldom drank. Having collected Neena’s bounty, he intended to spend it on drinks for guardsmen, buying their goodwill while loosening their tongues. In time, he would discover the identity of Cron’s countryman. That would set him on Dar’s trail. The city was big, but Dar couldn’t leave it. Sooner or later, he would find her. Kol’s step quickened. The hunt was on.

  Thirty-five

  Dar’s main concern was the orc queen’s health. Everything depended on it. As long as poison clouded the queen’s mind, Dar was imprisoned, for she had resolved not to leave without Muth Mauk. The queen’s mental state improved each day, but there were other changes. As her wits sharpened, her body shriveled. Dar feared the poison was a blaze that destroyed while retreating. Muth Mauk noticed Dar’s concern and sought to reassure her. “Think of me as drying fruit,” she said with a smile. “I lessen, yet what remains is stronger.” Regardless, Dar thought the queen looked frail.

  While Dar fretted, the rest of her life fell into a routine. When Dar wasn’t cooking or serving the queen, she helped Bea scrub and wash. She preferred the half-wit’s cheerful company to that of the other servants, who sneered at her brand and treated her haughtily. Sevren often visited after he went off duty, appearing while Dar was cleaning up. He always brought candied fruit for Bea, who savored the treat while he talked with Dar.

  Though Sevren was concerned about Dar’s safety, he came for other reasons. Dar couldn’t smell love like other urkzimmuthi mothers, but she saw it in Sevren’s actions. Her presence subdued him. He was nervous and happy in her company and almost orcish in his respectfulness. Nevertheless, he was bold enough to repeat his offer to share his room. Each time Dar declined, he accepted her decision. One evening, he brought Dar a blue shift like those serving women wore. Dar accepted it because it helped her blend in with the other servants, and because—as with the shoes—there were no conditions attached.

  Dar knew she was being courted, and while she didn’t encourage Sevren, she didn’t discourage him either. She might need his help, and his company was pleasant. All Dar’s highland suitors had been arrogant and randy, but Sevren was neither. Yet, despite Sevren’s courteous attentions, Dar still pined for Kovok-mah. She had already forgiven him, realizing that he must obey his muthuri. The finality of their separation made Dar’s heart ache. To distract herself from unhappiness, Dar focused on aiding the queen.

  On the eighth night Dar served her, Muth Mauk was waiting by the doorway. One glance at the queen’s shrewd face told Dar that the monarch’s mind was restored. Muth Mauk looked at the hamper. “Is that muthtufa I smell?”

  “Hai, Auntie. It’s been simmering all day.” The queen sat down, and Dar gave her some of the stew. “Food is Muth la’s gift.”

  “Shashav Muth la,” said the queen. She tasted the muthtufa and made a wry face. “Your spirit is urkzimmuthi, but your tongue and nose remain washavoki. Your cooking shows it.”

  Dar bowed. “I’m unskilled.”

  “Hai, but Muth la didn’t send you here to cook. I remember little of our first meeting, but I recall this: You said you came to save me.”

  “I did, Auntie.”

  “Tell me your story, Dargu-yat. Leave nothing out. I must know everything.”

  Dar spoke of her childhood and how she ended up in the regiment. She told of her abuse by men and of finding refuge with Kovok-mah. She recounted her first visions, Zna-yat’s attempt to drown her, and her rescue by a tree. Dar relived the battle at the Vale of Pines and the rage it brought. She told of her journey with the orcs and how she came to bite Zna-yat’s neck. She described every detail of her encounter with Velasa-pah, but hesitated to speak of the pool at Tarathank until the queen gently encouraged her. It was late night by the time Dar finished her account.

  Muth Mauk’s yellow eyes fixed on Dar with penetrating intensity. “Dargu-yat, I believe Muth la prepared your path, but it was you who chose to walk it. That’s her way. One must choose goodness. I’m proud you’re my niece.”

  “Shashav, Auntie.”

  “Now it’s my time to make choice: If you can lead me from this place, I’ll go with you.”

  The following day, a city watchman arrived with a message for Davot. “There’s two piss eyes at the gate with somethin’ fer ye,” he said. “They want a girl to fetch it.” Davot called for Dar and sent her with the watchman to see the orcs. Dar would have preferred Sevren as her escort, but declined to ask for him in the presence of the watchman. It would arouse his curiosity, for serving girls did as they were told.

  The watchman accompanied Dar outside the city gate where the orcs were waiting. One of them was Zna-yat. The other one was Kovok-mah. The mere sight of him evoked painful feelings. Dar thought Kovok-mah looked as uncomfortable as she felt. She spoke to Zna-yat in Orcish. “Why is he here?”

  “He can speak to washavokis, I cannot.”

&nbs
p; Dar spoke to Kovok-mah in Orcish. “Tell washavoki that Zna-yat wants to show me what he brought.”

  As Kovok-mah did this, Dar whispered to Zna-yat. “Show me spices as we talk.”

  Zna-yat opened his sack and began pointing to the different herbs. “What message do you have for me?”

  “Black Washavoki poisoned queen. Her thoughts were not clear, but I have healed her. I will take her from city.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Soon, I hope. All I can say is watch city at night. When queen appears, sons must protect her.”

  “But we’re locked behind walls.”

  “Tell washavoki soldiers you have sickness. Say you must stay outside walls or sickness will spread.”

  As Dar had hoped, Zna-yat grasped the purpose of the deception. “And when I see queen?”

  “Have weapons hidden on you. Slay camp guards and open gate. Sons must be ready.”

  “They will be.” Zna-yat regarded Dar with brotherly concern. “Dargu, you have big chest.”

  Dar smiled wryly. “You mean you smell my fear? Close your bundle. I must go.”

  The watchman, who had kept his distance from the orcs, joined Dar after she shouldered the sack of spices. “Never heard anyone speak piss eye talk afore.” He stared at her brand. “Ye from the regiments?”

  “I’ve served there.”

  “And now ye’re in the palace.” The watchmen grinned. “Who’d ye tup fer that?”

  Dar fixed the watchman with a cool glance. “Someone bigger than you.”

  Dar no longer worried about the queen’s mind, but she remained troubled by the queen’s health, which hadn’t improved. Muth Mauk’s best hope lay in seeing the Yat clan’s healer, a mother renowned for her skill. To do so, she had to escape Taiben, and accomplishing that became Dar’s chief concern. The problem gnawed at her. She could sneak the queen down the servant passageway at night, but both the palace and city gates would be shut and guarded. Dar could think of no way around those obstacles.