“To us!” said one of the men watching Kol.
“It’s been let again. Ye can move to the stables, or best this man’s offer.”
The men regarded the gray-eyed stranger who had joined the innkeeper. He had an intimidating look, despite his youthful face. Moreover, his clothes marked him as someone with means. Rather than protest further, the men followed the innkeeper out of the room. As they entered the hallway, they noticed a Wise Woman standing there, clutching her bag of healing herbs. The stranger who had usurped their room spoke to her. “Come. This is the one.” The Wise Woman entered the room and the door closed.
One of the men turned to the innkeeper. “Who was that fella?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Well, we had interests in that dyin’ bloke. Interests ye pissed away.”
His larger companion pushed the innkeeper against the wall. “Aye, pissed away. So, we’ll have our money back.”
The innkeeper attempted a nervous smile. “Why not take it back as drink and sleep in the stable for free?”
The two men grinned at each other. “We’ll do that,” said one.
“Seems our luck has changed,” said his comrade. He glanced toward the closed door. “And not just ours.”
Eleven
Nir-yat renewed the discussion of Dar’s wardrobe first thing next morning, picking up where she had left off the previous evening. By then, Dar had learned there were many other garments besides nevas, kefs, and cloaks. All of them had names, and all their parts had names also. Dar even remembered a few of them. She surveyed the carefully arranged piles of fabrics that covered the floor of her hanmuthi, each pile destined for a different garment. “Nir, this is never going to work. I can’t remember what’s supposed to be what.”
“It’s simple, really. Those gabaiuks are for your sukefas. They have two sides so they’re paired with tuug that…”
“Enough, Nir! You’ll have to tell Thorma-yat what to make.”
“But…”
“Secret of wisdom is recognizing it in others. I can’t do everything myself. Should I grow my own brak and pashi? If I cooked my feasts would you want to eat them?”
Nir-yat grinned, recalling Dar’s ineptness in the kitchen. “Thwa.”
“So I’ll rely on your wisdom when it comes to clothes.”
“You must tell Thorma-yat something.”
“Then tell me what to say. Something brief.”
“Tell her your nevas are to be long and fit tightly,” said Nir-yat.
“For what reason?”
“Because you’ll always sit on stool or throne, never on cushion. Also tell Thorma-yat your kefs should taper to point below your waist. That’s most elegant.”
“I can manage that,” said Dar. “I’ll send for Thorma-yat. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
After the seamstress arrived, she stayed most of the morning. Dar repeated what Nir-yat had told her, then asked her sister to describe how each item was to be made. While Thorma-yat and Nir-yat talked, Dar only half listened. Finally, the seamstress gathered up the fabric samples and bowed to Dar. “I know what must be done, Muth Mauk.”
“You’ve pleased me, Thorma-yat.” Dar waited until she was alone with Nir-yat before curling back her lips in a broad orcish grin. “Sister, you’ve pleased me also. I’m certain I’ll look grand.”
Nir-yat returned Dar’s smile. “You will!”
Dar was encouraged by Nir-yat’s self-assurance, for it was a sign that her sister hadn’t been cowed by their muthuri. Nir-yat had handled ordering the clothes skillfully, and Dar expected she would be helpful in many other ways. She learned more from her grandmother than she realizes, thought Dar. She knows how a queen’s hanmuthi runs. Indeed, Nir-yat’s thoughts were already on the next task. “Before you speak to Gar-yat about feasts, we should get hanmuthi list from lorekeeper.”
“One that says which families are high and which are humble?”
“Hai. It can be delicate matter.” Nir-yat explained that, though many Yat clan members lived in the surrounding countryside, hanmuthis within the clan hall were coveted. There were only thirty-three. Since there was no room on the mountaintop to build more, deciding which families occupied them and which mother headed each hanmuthi was a complicated and often contentious matter. It was largely based on ancestry, but other factors came into play. Hanmuthis changed hands as the standing of families rose or fell, and the lorekeeper recorded all the changes. Thus, the order in which the hanmuthis were feasted would be carefully noted.
That afternoon, Nir-yat led Dar to the lorechamber. It was in the old part of the hall, and resembled a hanmuthi in its design, except that the adjoining rooms were not sleeping chambers. Instead, they were filled with shelves that were stacked with thin wooden boards, each approximately an arm’s length and a palm’s width. Dar had the impression that she had entered a carpenter’s storeroom, not a repository of knowledge. The center chamber was filled with tables, and these were also piled with boards. The lorekeeper was seated on a stool next to the central hearth, like a muthuri in her hanmuthi. She was gazing intently at a board on her lap and was startled when Dar spoke. “May Muth la bless you, Yev-yat.”
The mother immediately rose and bowed. “Shashav, Muth Mauk.”
Dar was surprised that a mother who looked only slightly older than Nir-yat was the lorekeeper. Yev-yat had exotic features. Her thin face made her green eyes look especially large, and her thick hair was jet-black, an unusual color among orcs. Lightly built, she was only Dar’s height. A brass object dangled from a cord about her neck. Dar, having never encountered a key before, assumed it was a pendant.
Yev-yat glanced approvingly at the talmauki on Dar’s nails and nipples. “It’s said that since you bit your sister’s neck you’ve grown in understanding. Now I see that for myself.”
“Nir-yat has been most helpful,” replied Dar, who had ceased to be surprised by how rapidly news spread through the hall. “Yet I’ve much to learn.”
“Then you’ve come to good place. Instructing queens is one of my duties.” Yev-yat walked over to a table and picked up a board. Unlike most of the others, its surface was painted with white clay so the dark markings on it stood out plainly. She handed the board to Dar. “I’ve already prepared list of clan families.”
Dar examined the rows of marks on the board. They reminded her of those carved in the walls at Tarathank.
“Most humble family is written at top,” said Yev-yat.
Nir-yat looked over Dar’s shoulder, then turned the board in Dar’s hand. Dar blushed when she realized that she had been holding the writing upside down. “I’ve seen such marks before,” she said, “but I don’t know their meaning.”
“I’d be honored to teach you that skill,” said Yev-yat.
Dar handed the board to Nir-yat. “Show this to Gar-yat so she might begin planning my feasts.”
After her sister departed, Dar surveyed the room. “Does each board contain knowledge?”
“Hai, Muth Mauk. They’re called deetpahis.”
Dar broke down the word into “boards” and “speaking.” Yev-yat handed her a deetpahi. It was different from the one that listed the families. Its wood was unpainted and the marks were burned into its surface. The entire deetpahi had been covered with wax, which had darkened with age. “How does this wood speak to you?” Dar asked.
“Each mark is picture of sound. There are forty different marks, one for each sound in our speech.” Yev-yat touched a mark with a claw. “This one shows ‘mmm.’” She moved her claw down the row of marks. “This says mmm-oo-th-oo-rr-ee, muthuri.”
“This is useful knowledge,” said Dar. She gazed at the thousands of boards. “There’s much learning in this room.”
“There is, Muth Mauk, and I study it every day. I still have much to learn, and this place is tiny compared to Tarathank’s great lorehall. It’s said some of its deetpahis were made on first day of world.”
“I was at Tarath
ank, but I saw no place like this.”
“Washavokis burned that wisdom,” said Yev-yat, her voice as mournful as if the deed had occurred yesterday.
“When Muth-yat spoke to me about rebirth, she said she had learned its secrets from ancient texts. Are those texts here?”
“Hai, but they’re hard to understand. Their words sound strange to us.”
“Did you help her understand them?”
“I did, but Muth-yat hears only when she wants to listen. I warned her that those reborn have strange fates.”
“Like Velasa-pah?” When the lorekeeper failed to reply, Dar asked, “Has Muth-yat forbidden you to speak of him?”
“Deetpahis speak, not I. No matriarch can silence lorekeeper.”
“Yet you grew silent.”
“Tales of Velasa-pah are unsettling. When I spoke of him to Muth-yat, she grew angry.”
“Why?”
“Each deetpahi has its own voice, and they don’t always agree. Muth-yat wanted certainty, and I provided none. Perhaps you’ll be angry also. Little is certain about Velasa-pah.”
“Was he wizard?”
“Hai. That much is common knowledge. Muth la sometimes speaks to sons, and such sons become wizards. Wisdom she gives them is different from that she shares with mothers. To Val-hak, she taught magic of sand ice. To Fluuk-jan, spells for forging steel.”
“What wisdom did Velasa-pah receive?”
“His gift was most unusual. He had knowledge of spirits. Washavokis called his skills ‘deep magic’ and feared him. He made stone that caused those who held it to relive memories of departed spirits. It’s also said he could foretell events.”
“What happened to him?”
“It’s written that he died when Tarathank fell.”
“Are there not other tales of his fate?”
Yev-yat’s eyes lit up. “Hai. Known to very few. Where do you hear them?”
“No one told me. I met Velasa-pah on my journey, and he seemed alive. He cooked food and made magic with feathers.”
Yev-yat looked alarmed, and for a moment Dar feared that the lorekeeper would behave like Meera-yat. “And Muth-yat knows this?”
“Hai,” replied Dar. “She’s known it for long time.”
“But you’re queen, now. That changes everything.”
“How?”
“That is difficult question, Muth Mauk. Ancient voices often disagree, making it hard to tell where wisdom lies.”
“Yet when I mention Velasa-pah, others are dismayed.”
Yev-yat did not reply immediately. Instead, she entered one of the adjoining rooms. She searched among the stacked deetpahis awhile until she found the one she was looking for. “This is deetpahi of Tarma-goth. She fled destruction of Tarathank and speaks of its last days.” Yev-yat placed the deetpahi on a table. Its wood had darkened so much that the marks burned into it were barely discernible. The lorekeeper ran her fingers along its surface, mumbling softly to herself. Then her fingers stopped. “Ah, here…. and on second moon, washavokis violated Muth la’s Embrace…She’s speaking of one enclosing Tarathank…and gave death to all they met. They slew queen and Fathma was lost. Then urkzimmuthi…This section I cannot read…but Velasa-pah refused, saying it was his fate to greet new queen.”
Yev-yat looked up. “Tarma-goth believed that Velasa-pah’s life would be preserved until new great mother arrived.”
The lorekeeper set the deetpahi carefully on a table. “In older deetpahis, this tale is called ‘Velasa-pah’s Promise’ or ‘Velasa-pah’s Oath.’ Only later was it named ‘Velasa-pah’s Doom.’ When Tarma-goth wrote, most urkzimmuthi had fled to Blath Urkmuthi, but some still dwelled in ancient homeland. Because Velasa-pah remained behind, it was said that next great mother would arise from that place. Yet, as time passed, that hope faded. Our homeland filled with washavokis who brought only death with them. In time, urkzimmuthi no longer looked westward.”
“Except Pah clan,” said Dar.
“Where did you learn this?”
“I’ve seen this clan. They still live in western mountains. Until I came, they watched western heights.”
Yev-yat’s eyes grew wide. “You visited lost clan?”
“Hai. But Muth-pah said they are lost no longer.”
“And Muth-yat knows this?”
“Hai.”
Yev-yat frowned. “She has hidden much from me. You also, I suspect. Did she speak of Morah-pah’s vision?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Many deetpahis describe visions, and Morah-pah’s deetpahi records significant one. It was written after Yat clan child was born with Fathma. Original is lost, but I have copy.”
Yev-yat went into another chamber. In addition to shelves, it contained a chest. The lorekeeper removed the object that Dar had assumed was a pendant, inserted it into a small, oddly shaped hole in the front of the chest, and twisted it. Dar heard a click. Then Yev-yat lifted the chest’s lid and removed a deetpahi. It had darkened until it was nearly black. The lorekeeper treated it as though it was somehow dangerous. “This is lore that I may impart only to great mothers and their sisters. Thus few know it, and for good reason.”
Dar felt uneasy. “And now that I’m queen, this is something I must know?”
“Hai, Muth Mauk, for I believe it speaks of you.”
Twelve
Murdant Kol opened his eyes and saw a man peering at him. The man smiled, but his gray eyes were calculating. “You were hard to find,” said the stranger. “You’re fortunate I succeeded.”
Kol’s jerkin was gone and a bandage encircled his bare chest where none had been before. It pressed pungent herbs against his wound, which still ached but no longer burned. Kol suspected that the man had been caring for him. He couldn’t imagine why, and his wariness was stronger than his gratitude. He regarded the man again, and with a voice as forceful as his weakened state allowed, asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Gorm.”
“Why are you here?”
“My master desires your service.”
“My service? For what? Someone’s private guard? I’m a soldier, not a watchman.”
“A soldier without an army.”
“They’re always wanting swords in Luvein.”
“Proud words for one in your position,” said Gorm. “You still need this woman’s care.” He gestured to the Wise Woman seated on the other bed. “I hired her. If I leave, she leaves.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I’ve been to Luvein,” said Gorm. “Its lords want soldiers, but their squabbles are scarcely wars. Do you wish to fight over cattle? To conquer vineyards?”
“With luck, I might rise high,” replied Kol.
“No need to seek your fortune. Fortune has found you. My master is Othar the Mage.”
Kol noted that Gorm’s eyes appeared much older than his face. They seemed capable of more than ordinary perception, an idea he found unsettling. “I heard he’s dead.”
“Now you’re privileged to know the truth. Very few do.”
Kol suspected that knowledge put him in jeopardy. “And what service can a soldier provide a mage?”
“Lead a war against his enemy.”
Kol was about to laugh when he saw that Gorm was completely serious. “How could I do that?”
“With powerful friends, ambitious men rise high. Commissions are easily bought. You’ve served under officers. They gave the orders, but who was the better soldier? You or them?”
“War’s hard and bloody work,” replied Murdant Kol. “And no man’s harder than me.”
“Othar agrees. A hard man is what the realm needs, especially now that it’s ruled by a woman. Girta wants for a strong hand to guide her. You could become that hand and push for war.”
“War against whom?”
“The orcs’ new queen.”
Again, Kol suppressed a laugh. “The piss eyes’ queen?”
“Aye, and you know her. She’s Dar.”
&n
bsp; “Dar! That’s impossible!”
Gorm smiled. “Not for a conniving bitch. Who knows that better than you?” Gorm paused and his smile grew mocking. “Isn’t she the one who wounded you?”
Kol only grunted.
“So, what will it be?” asked Gorm. “Slink off to Luvein or take on your foe?”
Yev-yat read from the deetpahi of Morah-pah. It spoke of an ominous vision. A queen who appeared in the west would usher in turbulent times. The deetpahi described a disaster that was chillingly similar to Dar’s vision. In it, the royal hall was reduced to ruins. At first, Dar argued that the vision didn’t apply to her. “I wasn’t queen when I was in western mountains,” she said. “I wasn’t even urkzimmuthi.”
“Velasa-pah appeared to you,” Yev-yat replied. “He said he had been waiting.”
“He might have been waiting for someone else.” Yet even as Dar made that argument, she doubted it was true.
“Muth Mauk, I think Muth la placed your spirit in washavoki’s body so no one would recognize you at first. That is reason you were welcomed in this hall. When Muth-yat and Zor-yat aided in your rebirth, they didn’t foresee you becoming queen.”
“If they had, would they have helped me?”
“Are they helping you now?”
Then the lorekeeper spoke of an old controversy that began when a child purporting to possess Fathma was born into the Yat clan. The child grew up to become the first queen of the urkzimmuthi since the fall of Tarathank. At that time, the Yat clan occupied the easternmost settlement. It consisted of only a few rude huts. Six generations had passed since the urkzimmuthi last had a ruler, and they were in disarray. Exiled from their ancestral lands and harried by the washavokis, they were a race on the edge of extinction.
After she was crowned by the Yat clan, the new queen spent the first years of her reign visiting the other orc settlements. In time, all the clans but one agreed that she possessed Fathma. The Pah clan—the former Queen Clan—resolved to wait for a sign from Velasa-pah. Until then, they would neither acknowledge nor disavow the sovereignty of the sitting queen.
Meanwhile, with the other clans’ support, the queen found a way to end the washavoki raids. She bought peace by pledging sons to fight for the washavokis in their wars against one another. By wisely choosing which sides to support, the orc queen ended the washavoki forays. This policy was the precedent for all the treaties that followed, the one with King Kregant being only the latest.
[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny Page 7
