[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny

by Morgan Howell

  Seventeen

  Five days after messengers were sent to the clan matriarchs, one returned accompanied by two sons. Dar, who had spent the afternoon with the lorekeeper, was greeted by Nir-yat with the news. “Candidates for your mintari have arrived.”

  Dar tried to appear calm. “From which clan?”

  “Mah clan. Their hall lies closest to ours.”

  Dar noticed that Nir-yat was watching her with a concerned expression. She probably smells atur, Dar thought. Though Dar seldom could detect the scent herself, she was certain that she smelled of love. Her sister’s face confirmed it. Following custom, Dar didn’t respond to her sister’s expression. Besides, she had a more immediate problem. “How should I receive them?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Nir-yat. “You should ask Muthuri.”

  “She’s been no help before.”

  “She’s changed, Sister. I’m certain of it. Send for her.”

  Dar was dubious, but her options were limited. Neither she nor her sister was versed in protocol, but Zor-yat was. Dar decided to send for her and dispatched a son on that errand. He returned with her shortly afterward. “Muth la’s blessing, Muthuri,” said Dar.

  “Shashav, Muth Mauk,” replied Zor-yat, bowing especially low. “I beg your forgiveness, Most Honored Daughter. I’ve been ill-mannered and foolish.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I should have been by your side, helping you through difficult days. Instead, I stood apart, hoping you’d falter.”

  “Why?”

  “I envied your place. I fought Muth la’s will. My actions have been shameful.”

  “Then undo them by aiding me. Deeds are weightier than words.”

  “I’d be grateful for chance to help.”

  “Muth-mah has sent me two candidates for my mintari. How should I proceed?”

  Zor-yat smiled as she bowed. “You should receive these sons in Great Chamber. Merely being there honors them. Speak of why they’re being considered, then let them rest from their journey.”

  “Will they stay in my hanmuthi?”

  “Only if you bite their necks. Until then, families within our hall will host them. I can make first two welcome, and Muth-yat can find places for others as they arrive.”

  “What will candidates do?”

  “Whatever you tell them. For one thing, they’ll replace those sons who have served you up to now. Their duties were only temporary.”

  “Your advice has been helpful,” said Dar.

  “I’m glad, Muth Mauk. I hope I can be equally useful in future.”

  Zor-yat left a short while later, after giving Dar some advice on managing the royal hanmuthi. She recommended that Nir-yat coordinate the candidates’ schedules and mentioned other tasks that she might do for Dar. While Dar remained suspicious about her muthuri’s change of mind, she was pleased to have the benefit of her experience. Moreover, the prospect of seeing Kovok-mah dominated her thoughts, making her other concerns seem trivial.

  As soon as Zor-yat left, Dar prepared to receive Togumah and Kovok-mah. She bathed, dressed in her finest clothes, blackened her teeth, applied fresh talmauki, and had Nir-yat braid her hair. She took extra care to look regal, for while pretty by human standards, Dar judged herself by orcish ones. She lacked a prominent brow, a sharp chin, and a ridge along her nose, and she felt this made her unattractive. But her brown eyes disturbed her most. Dar thought they resembled a rat’s. Only her black teeth and the clan tattoo on her chin were lovely in her estimation. Making matters worse, her forehead bore King Kregant’s brand and the skin beneath her breast remained discolored from her wound. At least the scars from my flogging are hidden.

  Dar recalled how Kovok-mah had treated those lashes with healing magic, and that memory evoked a cascade of others. He sees my spirit, not my ugly face. Dar placed the crown upon her head, then headed for the Great Chamber. As she passed the son assigned to serve her, she told him to bring the two candidates there.

  The Great Chamber resembled a hanmuthi except that a high throne carved from a single block of marble replaced the hearth in its center and arched windows replaced the entrances to sleeping chambers. The throne, which had no back or arms, was a more elaborate version of the stool that matriarchs sat upon. Its seat was so high that steps were necessary to reach it. The windows provided a panoramic view of the surrounding mountains, which were white with snow. The stone floor was heated from beneath, so the chamber was comfortably warm, despite the frigid weather. Dar noted that the stool Muth-yat had sat upon was gone from beside the throne. She climbed into the royal seat, and waited for Kovok-mah and Togu-mah to arrive.

  They entered the chamber soon after Dar and halted before the throne. From her elevated position, Dar gazed down at the two sons. The sight of Kovok-mah affected her even more than she expected. The last time she had looked into his green-gold eyes she was certain that she was dying. That moment came back to her, and she saw his gaze held the same expression as then—a mixture of grief and love. It took a while for her to find her voice. “Muth la’s blessing, Togu-mah and Kovok-mah.”

  Both sons bowed low. “Shashav, Muth Mauk.” Then Kovok-mah added in the human tongue, “Please don’t choose me.”

  Dar responded in Orcish. “Kovok-mah, I’m pleased you still practice speaking washavoki tongue.” Then she changed to human speech. “We’ll talk later.” Switching back to Orcish, she added, “Both of you can render me valuable service.”

  Dar regarded Togu-mah. He was shorter but more massively built than Kovok-mah. He had a likable face, lined by frequent smiles, and his eyes bespoke intelligence. Dar had met him while visiting Kath-mah, but she knew him mostly through Nir-yat’s description. He had fought for the washavoki king three times, but not last summer. Like Kovok-mah, he herded goats. He was also skilled at healing their hurts and diseases. “Togu-mah, my sister, whose judgment I respect, spoke highly of your wisdom, strength, and tenacity. I’ve need of son with such qualities.”

  As Togu-mah bowed in recognition of her praise, Dar noted his puzzled expression. Dar was certain she had said nothing to provoke his response. She was wondering what had caused it when she detected a faint scent. It was almost imperceptible, but she recognized it immediately. Atur! If I can smell it, the air must be thick with it. No wonder he’s looking at me strangely. Dar was unable to tell if the fragrance betrayed her feelings or Kovok-mah’s, but her awareness of it increased her awkwardness. She stared at Kovok-mah awhile before remembering that she should address him also.

  “Kovok-mah, you’ve shown skill in dealing with washavokis. I’ll need emissary who can speak with washavoki great mother.”

  Kovok-mah bowed.

  “Togu-mah, Zor-yat will welcome you into her hanmuthi. Go rest from your journey. You have pleased me.” As Togu-mah bowed, Dar addressed Kovok-mah. “Kovok-mah, we must speak further.”

  Both Dar and Kovok-mah fell silent until Togu-mah left the chamber. “Kovok, I’ve missed you.”

  “Muth Mauk, please…”

  “Call me Dargu when we’re alone.”

  “You’re not Dargu. You’re Muth Mauk now, and we can never be alone. Muthuri has forbidden it.”

  “Once you’re my mintari, that won’t matter.”

  “If you bite my neck, your authority will be greater than hers in all things but one: We must have her blessing to give love. Without it, you’ll become thwada.”

  “I’ve been thwada before.”

  “That was different. You were thwada for sacred reasons. When you returned from darkness, you were no longer untouchable. Thwada I speak of lasts forever. It’s like death.”

  “To be apart from you is like being thwada,” said Dar.

  “Before you speak like that, may I tell you tale?”

  “What is this tale?”

  “When I was youngling, I accompanied my father on journey. He brought she-goat with us that was too old to give milk. When we reached ridge that lay far from our halls, he made me chas
e goat away. Then we headed home. I was curious and asked why we had done that thing. Father said that goat was for ghost.”

  “Ghost?” said Dar.

  “Hai. I was more puzzled than before, but Father would speak no further of it. Yet his words remained with me, for I had never seen ghost. Winter passed, and next spring I was deemed old enough to roam about alone. Then I thought again of that ghost and resolved to see it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Not on my first trip to ridge. Three times I made journey. Last time was when leaves had fallen from trees. Then I saw her. Ghost was mother unlike any I had ever seen.”

  “How?”

  “She resembled animal. She wore hides, not proper clothes. It was cold, yet she had no cloak or footwear. And she was as wary as any wild creature. When she saw me, she ran away.”

  Dar saw where the tale was heading. “And that mother was thwada.”

  “Hai. Muthuri told me when I spoke of her.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Only that she was mother who had done forbidden thing with her velazul.”

  “You mean thing forbidden by her muthuri.”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah. “She was cast out, to be forever nameless and dead to all her clan. No one could speak to her, or acknowledge her in any way.”

  “What of her velazul? Was he cast out also?”

  “He was shamed, yet he remained among urkzimmuthi. Sons are weak. Mothers are not.”

  “Did you ever see her again?”

  “Three winters later, while searching for lost goat, I came upon hole. Its sides were circular and lined with rocks. There were remains of roof. It had caved in. Bones were beneath it.”

  “Her bones?”

  “I think so. They were of our kind.”

  “So she died alone.”

  “You will, too, if you make one mistake.”

  “Do you think me weak?”

  “Thwa, yet I’m still afraid. I don’t want to hurt you in any way.”

  “Our separation hurts me.”

  “But…”

  “I need you by my side. I can’t do everything alone.”

  “You’ll find others more worthy than me.”

  “Who will speak to Girta if not you? Garga-tok? He’ll frighten her. He lacks your gentleness and your skill with washavoki speech.”

  “But Muthuri will…”

  “She’ll change her mind.”

  “You don’t know her as I do. She’s resolute, and her word is law.”

  “I want you for my mintari,” said Dar. “Would you refuse that honor?”

  Kovok-mah gazed at Dar, his face betraying his inner struggle. With a pang of remorse, Dar thought he looked miserable. Then he lowered his head. “Sons are weak,” he said in a low voice.

  Dar climbed down from the throne, determined to take action before her reservations grew stronger. “Bend your neck.”

  Kovok-mah solemnly sank to his knees, then lowered himself further so his hands rested on the floor. As Dar knelt beside him, he stared downward, not at her. She pushed his hair aside, to expose his neck, and the moment she touched him she felt overwhelmed with yearning. His scent evoked memories of the courtyard in Tarathank, when she lay naked atop him, experiencing his body with all her senses. Dar knew she was doing something that she was likely to regret and understood Kovok-mah’s struggle and misery.

  Dar almost pulled away. Instead, she bent farther, until her lips rested on Kovok-mah’s neck. His skin felt warm and soft. Fragrance filled her nostrils. “I smell atur,” she whispered.

  “Do you also smell my fear?”

  Dar drew back and detected a sour note. Perhaps Fathma had sharpened her washavoki sense of smell, or perhaps the memories of the former queens caused her to recognize the scent. Either way, she knew Kovok-mah was afraid. Regardless, she pressed her lips against his neck again. She kissed it in the orcish fashion, rubbing her tongue over his skin, savoring the taste of it.

  Kovok-mah spoke in a husky voice. “Bite, not kiss!”

  With sudden anger, Dar bit down until she tasted blood. Then she drew back, horrified and perplexed by what she had done.

  Kovok-mah stayed motionless, as blood welled from Dar’s teeth marks. “Now I’m marked,” he said with resignation in his voice. “My life is yours.”

  After an awkward silence, Dar retreated to her throne. She told Kovok-mah to rise and he obeyed. Another awkward silence ensued. Eventually, Dar spoke again. “Now that you’re my mintari, you’ll stay in royal hanmuthi. You should place your things there.”

  “Hai. It will be my home for as long as you’re queen.”

  “So you know about that.”

  “Everyone does.”

  Dar glanced at the chamber’s entrance and noticed that Nir-yat was approaching. Her sister halted at the doorway and bowed. “Muth Mauk, your feast…”

  Dar realized that the sun had set and the Great Chamber had grown dim. “Have my guests arrived?”

  “Hai.”

  Dar jumped off the throne and hurried from the room. Kovok-mah remained put, clearly confused. He regarded Nir-yat. “Cousin, what should I do?”

  “Go to Muthuri’s. You’ll stay there.”

  “But I’m to live in Muth Mauk’s hanmuthi.”

  Nir-yat’s face fell. “She bit your neck?”

  Eighteen

  As a murdant, Kol had learned how to deal with those who considered themselves his superiors. He handled the nobles in the court as he had the officers in his regiment. Tolum Kol humored their presumptions, while exuding an air of polite competence. Both the royal steward and General Voltar nurtured his reputation as useful but unambitious, and Kol took care to make men easy in his company. He avoided close contact with the queen but ensured she saw him. All the while, he studied her and the prince.

  Kol bided his time before he made his move. Formality always slackened as the court gathered for a banquet, and that was when Kol chose to act. He waited until courtiers pressed around the queen, then approached the prince. The boy was fidgeting as usual, ignored by the adults. Kol knelt down so he was at the child’s eye level. “That’s a big brute you got there,” he said, nodding at the orc guard. “Does it make a good pet?”

  “It’s not a pet.”

  “Oh, they’re just like dogs, only not as smart. Watch this.” Kol curled back his lips in an orcish smile and bowed to the guard. “Pahat tha pah pi urkwashavoki?” Speak you speech of washavokis?

  “Thwa,” said the orc.

  “Ma lo-tamav tha fleem washavoki,” said Kol. I will teach you washavoki courtesy. He bowed again, then standing tiptoe, whispered in the guard’s ear.

  The guard bowed to the prince. “Ah eem Booger Nose.”

  “Tha pahat grut,” said Kol. You speak good. He turned to the prince, who was beginning to smile. “Bow to it and say, ‘Shashav, Booger Nose.’”

  Young Kregant III did so with a giggle.

  The sound of the prince’s laughter caught Queen Girta’s attention. She ignored the wheedling count before her, and turned her gaze toward her child. He and the man kneeling before him seemed to be enjoying a private joke. She had seen the man in court, and though she couldn’t remember his name, she recalled his blue eyes. He seemed deferential but friendly to the prince, and her son appeared animated in his presence.

  Queen Girta motioned to the royal steward, who hurried to her side. “Who is that man talking to the prince?”

  Lokung curled his lips with disdain. “Tolum Kol. An officer of lowly birth. Shall I shoo him away?”

  “No,” said Girta, disliking the steward’s haughtiness more than usual. “Seat him at the head table tonight. Next to the prince.”

  Lokung rolled his eyes. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  Girta watched her steward perform his errand and noted her son’s delighted expression. Tolum Kol looked in her direction and graciously bowed before returning his attention to the prince.

  The banquet began when Queen Gir
ta and the prince were seated. Servants rushed food and drink to them before serving the other guests. Seats at the head table were coveted, with those closest to the queen deemed the most desirable because they provided access to her. Usually, whoever sat next to the prince ignored the boy and spoke with Girta. Tolum Kol acted differently. He entertained Girta’s son with tales of army life that were so amusing that the queen found herself straining to hear them also.

  The banquet ended when Girta rose to depart. Usually, her son was asleep by then, but Tolum Kol’s attention had kept him wide awake. Kol had risen with the other guests, and the queen turned to speak to him. “Sir, the prince appears to enjoy your company.”

  Kol bowed. “He’s a fine lad, Your Majesty.”

  “The rest of the company has failed to notice that. He’s usually ignored.”

  “Perhaps they overlook him. A boy’s easy to miss when the nose is held high.”

  Girta smiled. “Sir, I think you’ve hit the mark. Yet you didn’t overlook him.”

  “I’m but a rooster in a pen of peacocks, more fit for a boy’s company than the high and mighty.”

  “Yet a rooster has more uses than a peacock. Do you ride, sir?”

  “I do, Your Majesty.”

  “Then, if the weather’s fair tomorrow, come to the royal stables at noon. I take my air on horseback.”

  Tolum Kol bowed. “You honor me.”

  Kovok-mah needed no device or special clothing to mark him as a mintari. His presence in the royal hanmuthi did that. Throughout Dar’s feast he felt conspicuous. He ate silently and attempted not to stare overmuch at Dar. That was difficult, for her transformation awed him. She’s truly our Muth Mauk, he thought as she served her guests and spoke affably with them. He recalled the fierce, filthy washavoki he had forced to bathe and marveled at the change. This is Muth la’s work.