[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny

by Morgan Howell

  It wasn’t hard to imagine how Fathma could go to an unworthy recipient, and Dar realized how some might see her crowning as an aberration. If a majority of the council felt that way, she was doomed. Dar was already calculating the votes. Four can kill me. So far, she feared two would go against her.

  Twenty-two

  The route Kovok-mah took to Taiben was called the New Road, though it had been constructed generations ago as a quicker way to reach the washavoki capital. The road achieved this by ascending the mountains and cutting through a high ridge. Its elevation meant it was snow-choked in winter. After Kovok-mah left the Yat clan’s valley, he encountered drifts upon the road. As he climbed higher, they became deeper until every step took effort. A man would have been forced back, but Kovok-mah persevered. He kept walking until he reached the pass. It was night by then, and he decided to camp.

  The pass was the highest point on the road. Cut by hand through sheer rock, the passage provided protection from the wind and the drifts it created. Travelers often sheltered there, and the pass’ vertical walls had been blackened by countless campfires. Kovok-mah entered the cut, walked to its center, where the snow was less deep, and set up his camp. He had carried wood for a fire, and soon he had one going. He cleared a spot for his sleeping skin, melted some snow to make herb water, and roasted some pashi roots to accompany the hard milk he had brought for dinner. He ate his simple meal wrapped in his traveling cloak and thought about the day ahead.

  Kovok-mah was not looking forward to being in Taiben, though it would be good to see Zna-yat again. He’ll be overjoyed to learn Dargu lives. Kovok-mah still thought of Dar as “Dargu,” and he longed for the time when their love was uncomplicated. Before Muthuri intervened. Before Dargu became Muth Mauk. Holding her the previous night had stirred those feelings. His passion was so powerful that he was relieved when Dar had sent him away. He knew she was wise to do so. Yet Kovok-mah’s relief was balanced by despair. How can I live like this? He had no answer other than he must.

  Kovok-mah tried to ease his torment by concentrating on the task ahead. Dar had asked him to observe the conditions in Taiben and send a report. That seemed easy enough. But she also wanted him to find out what the washavokis were thinking, and Kovok-mah felt unequal to that challenge. His relationship with Dar gave him little insight into ordinary washavokis, who he thought behaved in inexplicable ways. Words are only sounds to them. Much that they say is meaningless. Kovok-mah felt he could learn more by smelling washavokis than conversing with them. Yet Dargu wanted him to speak. So he would say the words she had given him and hope that would suffice.

  Kovok-mah arrived at Taiben’s gates at noon the following day. Although he wore no armor, he smelled the guards’ fear as they barred his way. Kovok-mah kept his hand far from his sword hilt and recited Dar’s message. “I come in peace with message from our queen to your queen. Will you tell her I am here?”

  The guards seemed surprised that Kovok-mah had spoken to them, and they answered in the slow, simplistic speech used for half-wits and small children. “You stay here. We tell queen.”

  Kovok-mah waited patiently while one of the guards hurried to the palace. It was a while before he returned accompanied by armed washavokis in blue and scarlet. They escorted him through the city streets to the palace. Once inside it, they led him to the doorway of a large smoky room and halted. “Wait here,” said one of the washavokis. “Queen will send for you. Understand?”

  “I do,” replied Kovok-mah, stepping inside. There were windows glazed with sand ice, but they had been so darkened by soot that the light was dim. That presented no problem to Kovok-mah’s keen eyes, although they were beginning to smart. He saw that the smoke rose from a makeshift hearth in the room’s center. He also noted that Muth la’s Embrace had been carved into the wooden floor. Sons sat within it, and one rose when he spotted Kovok-mah. “Cousin Kovok?”

  Before, Kovok-mah could respond, Zna-yat was bounding toward him. “My chest is filled by seeing you! Tell me your news, though I dread to hear it.”

  “My news is good. Dargu lives.”

  Zna-yat beamed. “Praise Muth la! Is she well?”

  “Hai. She’s recovered. She sent me here to learn how affairs are going.”

  “Then why did you call her Dargu?”

  “I still think of her as Dargu.”

  “You should call her Muth Mauk, for that’s who she is,” said Zna-yat. “And how could she send you here? I thought your muthuri forbade you to see her. Has she changed her mind?”

  “Muthuri remains unchanged, but Muth Mauk has made me one of her mintaris. You’ve been named one also.”

  “This news mixes sweet with bitter. Muth Mauk has honored me, but by choosing you she’s placed herself in peril.”

  “I think she knows that, which is why she sent me here.”

  “Will you live here forever? Cousin, any wise nose can tell how you feel.”

  Kovok-mah sighed. “I know, but maybe Muthuri will relent. Dargu thinks she may.”

  “That seems unlikely. She craves granddaughters.”

  “Perhaps your muthuri could speak with mine.”

  “I think she already has,” said Zna-yat. “I know her ways. Don’t look to her for hope.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You wouldn’t, and that’s your virtue.”

  Zna-yat’s answer perplexed Kovok-mah, but he didn’t pursue the matter. Instead, he asked him how things had fared since Dar’s departure. Kovok-mah was unsurprised when Zna-yat complained that the washavokis showed little understanding—a quick survey of the room around him was evidence of that. It was minimally suitable, and Zna-yat told him that the washavokis had objected to every improvement. “If they had their way, we’d be sleeping outside sacred circle,” said Zna-yat. “There’s no proper bath. Our food is little better than when we marched with soldiers. They call us friends, yet this is how they treat us.”

  “Has no one spoken to washavoki queen?”

  “Garga-tok has spoken to her, but little has changed. When I guard her, she smells of fear.”

  “How can this be?” asked Kovok-mah.

  “Washavokis have no sense.”

  “Yet Darg…Muth Mauk made peace with them.”

  “She didn’t want us to kill for them,” said Zna-yat, “so she pledged we’d protect their queen instead. Muth Mauk was wise to make that treaty, but washavokis may lack wisdom to keep it.”

  A washavoki shouted in the human tongue from the doorway. “Messenger! Queen will see you. Come.”

  Kovok-mah headed toward the man, pausing only to remove his traveling cloak. He retained his sword, knowing that washavokis commonly wore weapons within their dwellings. He followed his escort into a huge room. Its entrance was guarded by two armored urkzimmuthi, but the room itself contained only washavoki sons, who were dressed in gaudy colors, and their great mother. She sat upon a wooden platform that was somewhat like a stool with a high wall in back and little walls to place her arms on. The platform was elaborately carved and covered in places with yellow iron. It seemed a place of honor, and Kovok-mah guessed it was a throne.

  The washavoki great mother offered no blessing, but stared silently. Kovok-mah had the uncomfortable feeling that she was expecting him to do something, but he had no idea what it was. After an awkward silence, he acted as though he had been blessed, and bowed. “Thanks, Great Mother,” he said in the washavoki tongue.

  “I’m told you bear a message,” said the queen.

  “Hai, Muth Mauk sends you greeting.”

  “Moot Muck? Who’s he?”

  “It is name every queen takes.”

  “And who is Moot Muck now?”

  “You know her. She made treaty with you.”

  “Dar? She said she was dying.”

  Kovok-mah noticed that the queen glanced at one of the washavoki sons who stood near the throne. Kovok-mah followed her gaze and was astonished by whom he saw. Bah Simi! he thought, “Blue Eye” being
the orcs’ name for Murdant Kol. Kovok-mah seized his sword hilt, but didn’t draw the weapon. He noticed that Bah Simi seemed pleased by the action. Kovok-mah turned his gaze back to the queen and responded to her comment. “Muth la preserved Muth Mauk’s life.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” replied the queen.

  Kovok-mah didn’t think she looked pleased. Words without meaning, he thought. “Muth Mauk says she is pleased there is no killing. She hopes your urkzimmuthi guards satisfy you.”

  “They do, although they are slovenly guests.”

  “I do not know this word ‘slovenly.’”

  “I gave them a fine room to live in, and they ruined it. Also, they’ve behaved indecently.”

  “What does ‘indecently’ mean?”

  Kovok-mah was surprised when Bah Simi spoke instead of the queen. “Your Majesty, it’s futile to explain decency to an orc. The concept is beyond them.”

  The remark caused some of the sons to make their laughing noise, and Kovok-mah noted that the queen also fought against a smile. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s more important that we’re at peace.”

  Kovok-mah was perplexed by the queen’s behavior. He was aware that he was being insulted, but he neither understood why nor knew how to respond. None of them understands our speech, yet they mock me for not understanding one of their words. Worse, they won’t explain it. If it weren’t for Dargu, I’d forsake this ill-mannered queen. He glared at Kol, whom he suspected had inspired his rude reception. Bah Simi was always Dargu’s enemy. Knowing that he had to say something, Kovok-mah nodded and said, “Hai. Peace is good.”

  “Does Moot Muck have more to say?”

  “I have spoken all her words, but she would like you and I to talk together.”

  “This is not a good time for that,” replied the queen quickly. “Soon, perhaps.”

  Kovok-mah realized that he was being dismissed and bowed. “Shashav, Great Mother.” Then he left the room.

  Soon after the audience, Girta also left the throne room. She retreated to a private chamber, then sent for Tolum Kol. When he arrived she said, “You were right! Dar wasn’t dying.”

  “Apparently not,” replied Kol.

  “I signed that treaty because I thought she was. She said there was no time to waste. Now what should I do? Tear it up?”

  Although pleased that Girta had turned to him for advice, Kol was alarmed by her question. Without the treaty, the orcs would depart into the mountains, and provoking a war would be nearly impossible. “I think that would be hasty,” he replied.

  “Why? It was based on deceit.”

  “Dar’s deceit. The orcs lack her guile. Notice how clumsy her messenger was this afternoon.”

  “He acted pretty hostile for someone who likes peace,” said Girta. “The way he looked at you! I thought for certain he was going to draw his sword.”

  Kol smiled wryly. “That’s because I knew him. You see, he was Dar’s lover.”

  Girta’s face took on a look of appalled curiosity. “No!”

  “When you see him, ask him if he slept with her. He’ll admit it. He’s proud of it.”

  “So why does he hate you?”

  “Jealousy. Dar tried to seduce me before she seduced him.”

  “I don’t know if I can abide such sordid creatures around the court.”

  “For the while, it’s safer to leave matters rest and not tip our hand. Let Dar think we trust her. Without their mistress present, the orcs are much like guard dogs—vicious, but useful. They’ll keep your other enemies at bay.”

  “But you say they’re my enemy, too. Or, at least, Dar is.”

  “Yes. And we must deal with her eventually, but we need not be hasty.”

  “This sounds like a dangerous game,” said Girta.

  “It’s always perilous to rule. But I know orcs, Your Majesty, and I’m always at your service.”

  “That service has proved invaluable so far. Only you saw through Dar’s schemes. Does it not seem strange that in a court filled with nobles and generals I must turn to a tolum for sound advice?”

  “If the advice is worthy, its source doesn’t matter.”

  “You only say that because you’re new to the ways of court. You’re not respected because of your rank.”

  “It matters not to me.”

  “It does to me. I shall elevate you, if only to wipe the smirks from haughty faces.”

  “If you wish to honor me,” said Kol, “why not name me Queen’s Man? There are no orc regiments to command, so the rank’s an honorable but empty title.”

  “The Queen’s Man was a general!”

  “And the late king’s adviser on orcish matters. That service I can still fulfill.”

  “Such a rise will raise eyebrows, too.”

  Kol grinned. “Isn’t that your intent?”

  Girta thought on the idea and grew to like it. What use have been my other generals? She could think of none. “I’ll do it, sir. I’ll announce it at tonight’s banquet.”

  Kol bowed most humbly, without a hint of triumph in his face.

  Twenty-three

  While Queen Girta was announcing Kol’s elevation to Queen’s Man, Dar prepared to host her twelfth feast. She was still upset from her meeting with Muth-mah, and the arrival of another matriarch only increased her anxiety. Muth-tok had arrived at dusk, and Dar had used the feast as a pretext to postpone seeing her. The prospect of that meeting dampened Dar’s spirits as she waited for her guests.

  The family she entertained that night was headed by Thorma-yat, the seamstress. One of her two daughters had been recently blessed to a son named Duth-zut. When Dar served him, he bowed especially low. “Muth Mauk, you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I fought washavokis at Taiben’s gate.”

  “Then you saved my life,” said Dar.

  “Thwa, I think you saved mine. I had three brothers. Each was sent to kill for washavokis and never returned. When I left for Taiben, I expected to die also.”

  Duth-zut’s muthvashi grasped Dar’s hand. “Shashav, Muth Mauk, for your wisdom. When I have my first daughter, I’ll name her Dargu.”

  “You honor me,” said Dar. Then knowing “dargu” meant “weasel,” she asked, “But will your daughter be pleased with that name?”

  “When she knows your story, she’ll be very pleased.”

  Dar’s spirits lifted, and they remained that way for the remainder of the evening. Her heartache over Kovok-mah’s departure and her worries about tomorrow’s meeting with Muth-tok were assuaged by the sight of Duth-zut and his muthvashi. I’m walking Muth la’s path, she told herself. All I can do is stay true to it and leave my fate to her.

  Kovok-mah spent the evening in the orcs’ quarters. Dinner was served by woe mans, several of whom had foreheads that were marked like Dar’s. They weren’t ragged like the woe mans in the regiment, but the food they served was the same—porridge and boiled roots. He overheard one son complain that the queen had said true mothers would serve proper food. Kovok-mah didn’t know if the complaint referred to Muth Mauk or the washavoki queen. As Kovok-mah recalled, the promise had been made jointly. He resolved to bring up the matter during his audience.

  Night came without a summons to speak with Queen Girta. Kovok-mah was disappointed, for he had hoped to enlighten her on her orc guards’ needs. The news of Dar’s survival had lifted their spirits, and Kovok-mah wanted concrete improvements to follow. He was preparing to sleep when a washavoki approached Muth la’s Embrace. He halted at its edge, and called out, “Nak Kovok-mah su?” Is Kovok-mah here?

  “Hai, Ma nav su,” replied Kovok-mah. Yes, I am here. He rose and regarded the washavoki. “Sevren?”

  “Hai,” said Sevren, who continued to speak in Orcish. “Can we speak?”

  Kovok-mah replied in the same tongue. “Come inside Muth la’s Embrace. We will talk.”

  Sevren bowed and entered the sacred circle. Kovok-mah sat down next to Zna-yat, who whispered to him, “That washavoki
has come here before. Do you know him?”

  “Hai. He is Sevren,” said Kovok-mah. “He helped save Muth Mauk’s life.”

  Sevren approached and bowed again. “Tava, Kovok-mah. Tava, Zna-yat.”

  “Sit,” said Kovok-mah, continuing to speak Orcish for Zna-yat’s benefit. “What do you wish to speak about?”

  Sevren sat down. “Dargu-yat live?”

  “Hai,” said Kovok-mah. He was both surprised and puzzled when water flowed from Sevren’s eyes. “Are you sad?”

  Sevren smiled and replied in a voice that sounded strangely thick to the orc’s ears. “Thwa. Very happy.”

  Kovok-mah gave an account of Dar’s recovery, switching to the washavoki tongue whenever Sevren didn’t understand. Then Sevren told him about conditions in court using his broken Orcish. “Queen Girta knows not wisdom. Washavoki sons give her bad words. She listen.”

  “I saw Bah Simi with her today,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Washavoki name is Kol. He is tolum now. He speaks bad words.”

  “I think this also,” said Kovok-mah.

  “Dargu-yat must hear this.”

  “Her name is Muth Mauk now,” injected Zna-yat. “You serve Quengirta. Why are you here?”

  “Muth Mauk is wise. Muth Mauk wants peace,” replied Sevren.

  Kovok-mah’s nose informed him of another reason, probably the foremost one. He still loves her. Kovok-mah glanced at Zna-yat, certain that his cousin had detected the same scent. He saw a look of distaste on his face.

  “Sevren,” said Kovok-mah. “I wish to speak to washavoki great mother. This place is not good for us. She said we would have proper hall, place where urkzimmuthi mothers could live. If I tell her this, will she listen?”

  “If you say, I think she speak good words, do nothing,” replied Sevren. “I am sorry.”

  “Sev-ron speaks wisdom,” said Zna-yat.

  Kovok-mah feared that Zna-yat was right.

  Kol’s quarters within the palace were deemed suitable for a tolum. His room was small, with roughly plastered walls and only a tiny, unglazed window. Its sole furnishings were a simple bed and a chest. When Kol returned from the banquet, he expected to sleep there only one more night before obtaining grander accommodations. Upon opening the door, he spied a figure seated on the bed. “Good evening, General.”