“Did they find out why he left?”
“They just let him pass, as per orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Mine,” replied Kol, his face bland. “It’s part of our plan.”
“Oh yes,” said Girta, wondering what plan he was talking about.
“To lure out Dar. We won’t know what she’s plotting until she comes to Taiben.”
“What makes you think she’ll come?”
“She’ll come because she’s about to learn her scheme has fallen apart,” said Kol. Girta shot him a puzzled look and he elaborated. “Moving the orcs outside the palace thwarted her chance for a surprise attack.”
“There are still two of her fiends outside my door day and night!”
“We’ve been over this before,” said Kol. “If we banished the orcs altogether, Dar would know we’re wary. Instead, we’ve improved their accommodations, which happen to lie outside the city. Just you wait. Dar will betray her intentions. She’ll arrive to persuade you to move her orcs back into the palace.”
“It’s a clever trap,” said Girta, “but I feel like the bait.”
“The Queen’s Men spy on those two orcs from hidden places, ready to burst forth and cut them down at the first false move.”
“Still, I abhor all this trickery.”
“Would you rather go to war?” asked Kol. “Shouldn’t we try to snare Dar in her own noose before it comes to that?”
“You’re right, as usual,” said Girta.
Kol moved to her side. “I only want to keep you safe.” He lightly placed his fingers upon her hand, which rested on the windowsill. It was the first time he had ever presumed to touch her, and the contact was tentative. Girta didn’t protest, so Kol’s left his fingers where they were.
Kovok-mah’s message arrived at the Yah clan hall the following day. When Dar read it, her anger toward Kol, which had simmered ever since she had used the Tracing Stone, flared hot again. It was clear that Kol was already unraveling her treaty. Dar agreed with Kovok-mah that two orc guards were insufficient protection. Girta’s a fool, she thought. Her orcs were unshakably loyal, and she’s replaced them with Kol’s minions. Dar was irritated that the orcs had so passively submitted to the change. However, she forgave them, for it was their nature to obey mothers. The irony didn’t escape her. They submitted to Girta as Girta submitted to Kol.
Kol’s rise within the court still surprised and perplexed Dar. As far as she knew, murdants never became officers. She assumed he had some powerful friends, but she couldn’t imagine who. The Queen’s Man had been killed when the orcs attacked Taiben. Who else could Kol have known? It seemed a mystery that only she had hopes of solving. The orcs would be useless in unraveling such intrigue.
Dar wanted to go to Taiben immediately, but she restrained herself until everything was ready. Her and Nir-yat’s clothing were completed first. Nir-yat worked with Thorma-yat on the final details of the shirts. They fit well and looked good to Dar’s eye. The design for the pendant was a broad-crowned yew, the tree sacred to Muth la. Once it was cast, a wide talmauki ribbon was specially woven to suspend it. Dar consulted with the lorekeeper about both the New and Old roads to Taiben and studied deetpahis that mapped their routes. She also ensured that all her mintaris had arms, armor, and new woolen robes, since she wanted them to accompany her. She expanded their number by biting the necks of the two Goth clan candidates and Treen-pah.
After those preparations were complete, Dar had to delay leaving until sons from the Tok clan arrived. They would stand ready to seal the pass if she gave the order. They came, nearly fifty strong, burdened by their heavy tools and accompanied by some Tok clan mothers. After Dar saw to their accommodation, she announced that she would depart for Taiben the following day. By then, all the matriarchs except Muth-pah had left for their halls.
The evening before departure, Dar spoke to her traveling party. She told them that she wanted to ensure that the washavokis’ queen desired peace. She didn’t explain her concerns, for she was certain only Zna-yat could possibly grasp them. What Dar feared most was Kol’s treachery. Aware of his cunning, she thought it was likely that he had a trap waiting for her. Nevertheless, she was resolved to face him. I’ve beaten him twice before, Dar told herself. I’ll beat him this time, too.
Kol’s secret benefactor lay on a soft feather bed within his darkened room, incapable of rest. Othar was tormented. Though his charred flesh no longer pained him, he was afflicted by the knowledge that his body wasn’t wholly his. Whatever had possessed the magic bones possessed him. It gave him extraordinary powers, but the price was dear.
Unnatural needs governed the sorcerer. He craved bloodshed. He craved it with the same single-mindedness that a parched man wants water and for the same reason—he needed it to survive. Without slaughter to sustain it, his possessor would shuck him like a soiled glove. That terrified the mage, for he had an inkling of what nightmare being would be waiting for him on the Dark Path. Thus the sorcerer dedicated all his powers to helping Kol provoke a war.
There were signs he was succeeding. Othar had acquired some of the bones’ powers of premonition. He sensed forces on the move, and knew events were approaching fruition. The mage had misty glimpses of massed soldiers. Snow swirled about them, colored red by sheets of billowing flame.
Thirty-three
When Dar departed for Taiben, the morning sky was deep gray and snow was falling. Despite the weather, Dar chose to press ahead. She had eight sons with her, and while they were encumbered by arms and armor, she felt that they could easily overcome any storm. Dar was eager to finish the distasteful business that lay ahead. Also, she longed to see Kovok-mah.
When the party left the Yat clan’s winding valley, they took the New Road, which began to ascend almost immediately. At first, the slope was gentle, but it quickly grew steeper as it followed a wooded ridgeline. As the road climbed higher, the woods became sparser and its trees grew stunted. The snowfall increased until it hid the surrounding mountains and caused the slopes on either side of the road to fade into formless white.
Progress slowed as the snow on the road deepened, though walking remained easy for Dar, who followed the trail created by the sons in front. When she called a halt for a quick midday meal, Zna-yat told her they were halfway to the pass. By the time they reached it, daylight was beginning to fade. The snowfall had reduced to an occasional flake, so Dar had a good view of the pass and the ridge it penetrated.
Through most of their range, the southernmost Urkheit Mountains were formidable obstacles, and the ridge ahead was no exception. It formed a long barrier of steep rock that marked the highest terrain before the plains beyond. Dar gazed at it from a tactical perspective. The pass was a deep cut that resembled an alleyway into a wall of nearly vertical rock. If it were sealed, there seemed no way to reach the other side.
Dar called Lama-tok to her. “Your clan carved that?” she said, her voice awed.
“Hai,” replied Lama-tok. “We tell many tales about its making.” He pointed to the piles of huge stone blocks that flanked the cut. “You can still see rock that we removed.”
“And you scaled those cliffs to do it?”
“Hai.” Lama-tok pointed to holds cut into the rock. “We used those to climb them.”
“So washavokis could climb cliffs also?”
“Thwa. There are no holds on their side.”
“How quickly could this pass be shut?”
“Not overnight, but I think it would take only one or two days. It’s always easier to break than to build.”
When the travelers reached the pass, they stopped for the night and camped within its narrow walls. There, they roasted pashi, then slept huddled together for warmth. Morning brought fairer weather. Journeying downhill, they arrived at Taiben in the afternoon.
Dar stopped briefly at the garrison to visit the orc guards before proceeding to the palace. Both the late king’s father and grandfather had hosted orcish royalty there. N
agtha-yat had been to Taiben several times when his muthuri was great mother, and he had told Dar about those visits. Additionally, Dar possessed memories of sojourns made by former queens. Thus, knowing what to expect, she was surprised by her reception.
Lokung, the queen’s steward, stood waiting in the snow beside the palace’s shut gates. When Dar and her party approached, he bowed deeply. “Greetings, Your Majesty. Your friend and ally, Queen Girta, has sent me to extend her welcome and inform you that she will feast you tomorrow night.”
“That’s most gracious of her,” said Dar.
“Our Majesty also wishes that she had suitable accommodations for Your Majesty and Your Majesty’s attendants. Unfortunately, her palace lacks rooms suitable for your kind. She has, however, seen to the construction of barracks fit for her orc guards and hopes these will please you.”
Dar knew perfectly well that the palace had proper orcish accommodations; they had been built two generations ago. Nevertheless, she chose to appear oblivious of Girta’s deceit. “A monarch is always comfortable among her subjects. Those accommodations will suit us well.” With that, Dar returned to the garrison, quietly fuming all the way.
When Dar reached the garrison, the orcs welcomed her again, and she began to feel glad that she was staying with them rather than at the palace. She suspected that her greeting from the steward was only a foretaste of the slights she’d experience in the royal court. Already, she feared her visit was futile.
Zna-yat took her aside after she had settled in. “I smelled your anger when that washavoki spoke. What did it say?”
“Words without meaning. Washavokis call them ‘lies.’”
“These ‘lies’ are cloaks, I think,” said Zna-yat. “They’re meant to hide meaning.”
“You’re right,” said Dar. “Yet few urkzimmuthi understand this. Washavoki great mother had rooms for us in palace, yet her washavoki said she did not.”
“So it spoke ‘lie.’ Yet you saw beneath that cloak.”
“Hai. Washavoki great mother doesn’t welcome us, yet wishes us to think she does.”
“Hence, your anger.”
“I believe she fears us because Bah Simi counsels her with ‘lies.’ Perhaps I can make her understand that.”
“I think that will be difficult,” said Zna-yat. “Every time I guarded her, I smelled fear. Even before Bah Simi came.”
“Still, I must try. Not all washavokis are cruel.”
Zna-yat said nothing, but he thought, Most are.
When women brought food to the barracks, Dar served it. The single course consisted of porridge, and Dar perceived another insult in the meager meal. She suspected that the orcs did not feel slighted, so she said nothing. As Dar ladled out the porridge, she recalled her terror on the first night she served orcs. It felt like lifetimes ago. Now I’m their muthuri. Dar spoke with motherly affection to every son she served, thanking him for his loyalty and sacrifice. She spoke at greater length to those she knew personally. When she saw Garga-tok she asked, “Where’s your cape with washavoki ears?”
“I still have it,” he replied, “but I wear it not. Zna-yat says it frightens washavokis.”
Dar grinned. “My brother is wise.”
When she saw Magtha-jan, she said, “Muth-jan sends her love.” Then she showed him the golden pendant that Muth-jan had helped to make.
When she saw Kovok-mah, she said, “I haven’t seen you until now.” Dar refrained from asking where he’d been, for she suspected he’d been avoiding her and knew he could only speak truth. “After eating,” she said, “we must speak again.”
Kovok-mah bowed his head. “Hai, Muth Mauk.”
When Dar had served everyone, she sat down to her meal. The porridge was bland, but the company was good, and she ate contentedly. Afterward, Dar approached Kovok-mah. “Come walk with me. I wish to know more of your meeting with washavoki great mother.”
Kovok-mah bowed and rose. Dar grabbed her cloak and headed for the door. Kovok-mah followed. Snowflakes drifted down on a dark garrison that appeared deserted. Dar and Kovok-mah walked between the rows of empty barracks as Dar made inquiries about Kovok-mah’s impressions of Queen Girta, Bah Simi, and the Queen’s Men. Kovok-mah’s observations were precise, but they gave Dar few insights into the intrigues within the palace. Kovok-mah was as naive about conspiracies as any child.
When Dar had learned everything she could, she grasped Kovok-mah’s hand and pulled him toward an empty barracks. He quietly followed her into the dark building. “Sit,” she said. Kovok-mah sat cross-legged on the dirt floor and Dar knelt in his lap so they were face-to-face. She reached out and softly brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “You’ve been much in my thoughts,” she whispered.
“You dwell in my chest,” replied Kovok-mah, his voice quiet with longing.
“And you in mine.” Dar threw her arms around him as her lips sought his. There was only a moment’s hesitation before he returned her kiss.
Dar’s head swam with pent-up passion. The fervent way Kovok-mah returned her embrace and kisses heightened her feeling. I taught him how to kiss, Dar thought, and he taught me how to love. Dar’s ecstasy lasted only briefly. Then Kovok-mah gently pushed her away. He spoke in a pained, husky whisper. “Dargu, we mustn’t.”
Dar knew he was right. That realization was as bleak as any she had experienced. She also saw Kovok-mah’s restraint as proof of his devotion.
“Just hold me, then,” said Dar. “I’m queen. Don’t I deserve some happiness?”
Kovok-mah tenderly enfolded Dar within his arms. “You deserve more than some, yet I can give you only sorrow.”
“That sorrow isn’t your gift. It’s your muthuri’s.”
“I must obey her wisdom, though I understand it not.”
“There’s none to understand,” said Dar, “but that doesn’t alter our law.” Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled not to cry.
Kovok-mah held Dar, all the while wondering if even that meager solace endangered her. The scent of their atur was thick in the cold, dark building. Muth la must forgive us, he thought. We’ve struggled so hard to behave properly. He gently wiped away Dar’s tears, which still seemed novel to him. “We can’t see how things will end,” he whispered. “We may be together yet.”
Dar attempted a smile, knowing that Kovok-mah could see it in the dark, and lightly kissed his forehead. “Then hope must make us happy.”
The cold soon drove Dar from the abandoned barracks back to the warmth where her sister and mintaris waited. She had no doubt her scent betrayed her feelings, but she was equally certain everyone was already aware of them. She went to sleep soon after her return, calming herself with a fantasy in which Kath-mah changed heart and blessed Dar’s union with her son.
A messenger arrived the following morning with an invitation to Queen Girta’s feast, which would commence prior to sunset. Dar spent the morning with her mintaris and her sister, trying to prepare them for the evening ahead. Nagtha-yat was extremely helpful, for he understood what washavoki customs would seem most bizarre to the urkzimmuthi. He told them that washavokis prized their weapons and wearing a sword within a hall wasn’t considered rude. Dar added that she wanted her mintaris to wear theirs. Nagtha-yat also warned that drink at the banquet would be like falfhissi, though it would taste different. “Washavokis seldom bathe,” he cautioned. “Their stench will likely kill your appetites. Yet eat something. It’s considered impolite not to do so.”
Zna-yat bowed. “Muth Mauk, why do you wish us to come? Only Kovok-mah and Nagtha-yat will understand what is spoken.”
“Queen Girta will surround herself with washavokis,” replied Dar. “I want to be surrounded by my kind. I’m proud of you and wish to see you honored.”
“Will washavokis honor us?” asked Zna-yat.
“They should,” replied Dar. “If they don’t, they’ll reveal their hidden thoughts.”
Zna-yat bowed. “I see your wisdom.”
Dar and the others sp
ent the afternoon preparing for the feast. First they bathed. Among orcs, both sexes usually bathed together, though the bathing pool was far too small to accommodate all Dar’s party at once. Kovok-mah avoided washing while Dar was present. After bathing, Dar and Nir-yat braided each other’s hair. They chewed washuthahi seeds to blacken their teeth. Dar applied talmauki to her nails. She also colored her nipples with it, even though her shirt would cover them. As the sun neared the horizon, Dar dressed in her royal raiment. She wore high boots beneath her long neva and a shirt beneath her talmauki kefs. It was dark green, a shade that complemented her kefs and set off the large golden pendant. The ornament was as heavy as it was impressive and Dar donned it only at the last moment. The headband that covered her brand and her crown, a simple gold circlet, completed Dar’s outfit.
Nir-yat wore a rust-colored neva with matching kefs, high boots, and a deep maroon shirt. Dar’s mintaris were all identically garbed in white wool robes that ended at the knees. Dar chose white to contrast with the Queen’s Men’s black. The robes were sleeveless, and short capes covered the sons’ bare arms. Their sword belts and scabbards, contrary to orcish custom, were not treated as mere tools but as articles of attire. Their leather was not only dyed a shade of burgundy, but polished as well. All the sons wore matching burgundy boots.
When everyone was ready, they donned their cloaks and followed Dar into the city. People gathered along the streets to watch Dar and her procession march to the palace gates. Her dignity and bearing made an impression, as did her costly pendant and her formidable escort. The onlookers gazed silently, and when Dar glanced into their eyes, she saw a range of emotions. There was awe and respect, but there was also an abundance of fear and hostility.
Queen Girta was informed of the nature of Dar’s retinue and kept posted on its progress through the city. When Dar approached the palace gates, Girta sent Lokung to meet her. She gazed out a window and watched her steward cross the snowy courtyard. A short while later, he crossed it again, still alone. He soon arrived, out of breath from climbing stairs. “Where’s Dar?” asked the queen.
[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny Page 21
