Read [Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny Online
Authors: Morgan Howell
Servants entered the room bearing food and wine. All appeared subdued and frightened, except one—a young woman. Her pretty face was vacant, and her wrists were wrapped in bloody bandages. She remained by Othar’s side when the other servants departed.
A voice from behind the mask broke the room’s silence. “All here have benefited due to me.” The gleaming face turned to briefly gaze at everyone but Gorm. “Tonight you’ll learn the repayment I require. What secrets I reveal will remain behind these doors. Yet before I speak of them, let us enjoy our repast.”
Although the guests’ plates were heaped with delicacies, only a covered tureen sat before the mage. Kol wondered how Othar would eat, for his hands looked strictly ornamental and the mouth in the mask appeared too small to admit food. His question was answered when the blank-faced woman removed pins in the sides of the mask. A hinge was hidden in its top, and with the pins gone, the front and the back of the head split apart. The woman removed it to reveal the face beneath.
It was as hideous as that of any corpse Kol had encountered, and he would have been far more comfortable if it weren’t living. However, what surprised him more was Voltar and Lokung’s reaction. They were surprised. “Othar?” said the general. “By Karm, is that you?”
Lokung blanched as he stared wide-eyed. “You…you’re dead. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I did, too,” said the general. “How is this possible?”
“My life was preserved so I might accomplish greatness. One day, they’ll speak of Othar Orc-bane, the man who rid the world of piss eyes.”
The woman lifted the cover from the tureen, exposing what looked like a dark red stew. Othar smiled, his teeth gleaming against his cinder-black flesh. “Eat…eat. We’ll talk later.” The woman lifted a spoon and began to feed him.
Kol forced himself to eat some of his meal, which was rapidly growing cold. Among the other guests, only Gorm possessed an appetite. The general pecked at his food, while Lokung and Balten merely stared at theirs. While Kol ate, he made a point of glancing at Othar, not wanting to appear too cowed to meet his gaze. The “stew” the mage devoured was chunks of meat in a red broth. The meat looked raw and the broth resembled blood. When Kol had this thought, Othar flashed him a knowing smile.
On closer examination, Kol concluded that no ordinary fire had burned the mage’s flesh. Although the mage’s nose and ears were gone and his skin resembled scorched crusts on a skillet, his flesh remained supple and capable of expression.
He’s been transformed, not consumed
, Kol thought. Othar nodded as if he understood what Kol was thinking.
Can he read my thoughts?
Othar nodded again.
Did you enslave that woman through magic?
Kol thought.
Othar grinned his reply.
The meal was over as soon as Othar finished eating. Balten rang a bell and servants returned to clear the table and refill the wine goblets. Kol wondered what price they’d pay for seeing Othar unmasked. Then Othar spoke, interrupting Kol’s speculations. “Before dinner, I spoke of a war against the orcs. That enterprise is why you’re here. To gaze upon me is to know why I hate their queen. My condition is her doing. Only war can repay my grievance.” Othar gazed about the room. “You’re here to aid in accomplishing that. Tolum Kol has the hardest task. He must make a woman see sense.”
General Voltar forced a laugh at the remark.
Othar smiled before continuing. “You know of the treaty between our queen and the piss eyes. They’re to be her guardians, and in exchange, they’ll no longer fight our enemies. That pact alters everything. Without piss eye troops, war will be costly and its outcome unsure. Have no doubt—peace means disbanded regiments and an impoverished court. If the piss eyes won’t plunder for us, then we should plunder them. Only a treaty stops us. Tolum Kol’s job is to turn Girta against it.”
“How can he do that?” asked Voltar. “Girta lacks a spine.”
“I aim to give her one,” said Kol.
“You can’t change a ewe into a she-wolf,” said the general.
“Then I’ll try some other tactic,” replied Kol. “I’ll do anything as long as it results in war.”
“And your obligations are to help him by whatever means necessary,” said Othar. “Make sure you understand that. Otherwise, you’ll share this girl’s fate.” He spoke to the blank-faced woman by his side and she fell screaming to the floor. There, she continued to shriek while she writhed and clawed her face bloody. As her self-mutilation drew out, Lokung and Balten became sick and even Voltar grew pale. The woman died when she tore out her throat, making Kol think that an arrow in the neck would have been a gentler death.
Othar looked pleased. “Gorm will advise you on your roles. Fulfill them and we need not meet again. Balten, ring the bell.”
Balten obeyed and two vacant-faced men entered the room to lift Othar’s chair and carry him out. Afterward, one returned to drag the woman’s corpse away. After she was gone, Gorm smiled and glanced about the room. “My master likes a dramatic touch. As Tolum Kol says, an example heightens discipline.”
Fifteen
From her aborted conversation with Meera-yat, Dar knew a new queen had other duties besides throwing feasts. Most important among these was calling for unblessed sons to become mintaris. Not only would the sons she chose serve throughout her reign, the call for candidates would summon the clan matriarchs for a council. Dar worried it would be a difficult meeting. If Muth-yat challenged her fitness, she would do it then. Postponing a call for sons would postpone the council, but Dar saw no advantage in that. Instead, she decided to face the matriarchs and be done with it.
Dar brought up the subject of mintaris with Nir-yat during dawnmeal. She related what Meera-yat had told her, then asked, “Can you add anything to what she said?”
“Not much,” replied Nir-yat. “Except take your time in choosing. Meera-yat was wise to say don’t bite son’s neck unless you’re certain you want him. Great mothers often take years to decide. Bear in mind that your mintaris will become like your children, except they’ll live in your hanmuthi even after they’re blessed.”
Dar suddenly understood why the royal hanmuthi was so large. “Meera-yat said I should ask each matriarch for two candidates.”
“Hai, but you need not accept them. Still, it’s best to have at least one mintari from each clan. Keep asking for candidates until you get one who suits you.”
“Meera said I could ask for sons by name.”
“Hai, if you wish.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“I’m only familiar with sons from Mah and Tok clans,” said Nir-yat. “Consider Kazan-mah and Togu-mah. Kak-tok might be good choice also. You know our clan’s sons, and you’ve already bitten brother’s neck.”
“What do you think of Nagtha-yat?”
Nir-yat looked surprised. “He’s Grandmother’s youngest son, he must be fifty winters old. Why would you consider him?”
“I met him when I lived among washavoki soldiers. He was Wise Son who called me mother and allowed me to sleep within Muth la’s Embrace.”
“I heard he went to fight,” said Nir-yat, “but I don’t know if he survived.”
“Doesn’t he live in this hall?”
“He lives in his daughter’s hanmuthi. She’s Jan clan.”
“I thought he was unblessed, because only unblessed sons were sent to fight.”
“His muthvashi died, but he remained with her clan.”
“If he lives, I’d like to see him,” said Dar. “Which Mah clan son is better, Kazan-mah or Togu-mah?”
“Why not ask to see both?”
“Because I’ll ask for Kovok-mah.”
“Kovok-mah!”
“Hai. I want him.”
“He can’t see you! His muthuri has forbidden it.”
“She can’t forbid him to become mintari.”
“That’s true, but he must withhold his love. That won’t change. Why torment yourself?”
“I’m only being practical. He speaks washavoki tongue. That’s rare skill among urkzimmuthi.”
“Sister, others speak washavoki tongue. They’d be wiser choice.”
“Do you think me unwise?”
“In this matter, I do. Please don’t choose him.”
“I was told to follow my chest.”
“By who?”
Dar recalled that it was Velasa-pah who first had given her that advice. As soon as she had that thought, she knew she shouldn’t voice it. “It’s common wisdom.”
“There are times when your head must overrule your chest. This is one of them.”
“I’m queen, free to choose my mintari.”
“You’re not free from Muth la’s laws. You’re making dangerous choice.”
“Dangerous?”
“You understand my meaning. We’re sisters. I know your chest.”
“Kovok-mah will be one of my mintaris,” said Dar in a tone she hoped conveyed finality. “I’ll send message to Muth-mah today.”
Nir-yat sighed and bowed. “Then at least you should ask for Togu-mah also.”
Later that morning, sons left the Yat clan hall bearing messages to the clan matriarchs. None went to the Lost Clan, so Muth-goth’s hall was the most distant destination. Three sons left on that long journey, which took nearly a moon in the summertime. In winter, the way was too perilous for a solitary traveler. The other clans were less difficult to reach, and only one messenger was sent to each.
Muth-yat watched the messengers depart from the window of her hanmuthi, then turned to Zor-yat. “Nir-yat visited me earlier today with Muth Mauk’s request for mintaris.”
“Muth Mauk!” said Zor-yat in a bitter tone. “She’ll always be Dargu to me!”
Muth-yat smiled at her sister’s petulance. “Still, we must call her Muth Mauk. You should know that your son was on her list.”
“That’s no surprise. She’s bitten Zna-yat’s neck already.”
“She also named Nagtha-yat.”
“Strange choice.”
“Wise choice,” said Muth-yat. “Another was less wise.”
“Who?”
Muth-yat grinned. “Kovok-mah.”
Zor-yat’s face lit up. “Kovok-mah! Are you sure?”
“Nir-yat told me only because Muth Mauk had not forbidden it.”
“Why would she forbid it? Everyone will know soon enough.” Zor-yat’s grin broadened. “Kath-mah will be furious!”
“Perhaps Muth Mauk thinks Kovok-mah’s muthuri will change her mind.”
“Then she doesn’t know Kath-mah! This is good news, Sister.”
“It’s as I hoped,” said Muth-yat. “Muth Mauk’s foolishness will quickly end her reign. Our hall will be saved.”
“So Kovok-mah will dwell within royal hanmuthi. Every moment, Dargu will be tempted.”
“Once before, she risked her life to be with him,” added Muth-yat.
“Then, she had to journey to Taiben,” said Zor-yat. She smiled. “This time, she’ll need only to cross her hanmuthi.”
“That won’t happen if Nir-yat’s there. Zor, you must forgive Nir-yat and make her welcome in your hanmuthi.”
Zor-yat frowned. “She chose Dargu over me!”
“That doesn’t matter. Make peace with Nir-yat. And for our hall’s sake, you must make peace with Muth Mauk, too. If she feels secure, she’ll be less cautious.”
Sevren made his way along Taiben’s darkening streets. They were nearly deserted, for the plague of thieves continued unabated. He kept a watchful eye, knowing that the robbers would attack even a guardsman. Word had it that they were unskilled assailants, but fearless and dogged. He arrived at the sand ice merchant’s house without incident and knocked on its door. A peephole slid open. A moment later, the door was unlocked, and a gray-haired man bade him enter.
The modest house was both a home and shop, and the merchant’s wares were everywhere. The sand ice vessels, all of orcish make, sparkled in the firelight. They seemed to Sevren like icicles made by magic. It was a sight that never failed to enchant him. “Tava, Sevren,” said the man.
Hello, Sevren.
“Sutak fu ala keem suth?”
Have you come for more learning?
“Hai, Thamus, tep pahav pi daku urksaam.”
Yes, Thamus, and to speak of other things.
“Atham?”
What?
“Ma kramav…”
I fear
…Sevren halted. “Let’s speak in our tongue tonight.”
“You’ll never learn Orcish that way.”
“I know, but there’s a matter that worries me, something too important to speak about unskillfully.”
“I’m only a sand ice merchant, weighty matters aren’t my province.”
“But you know the urkzimmuthi,” said Sevren. “You not only speak their tongue, you’re welcome in their halls.”
“Aye, they extend me that honor, but that doesn’t make me wise.”
“I think you know more about them than anyone in Taiben.”
Thamus laughed. “That’s saying little.”
“It’s about Queen Girta’s urkzimmuthi guard. Would they revolt against her?”
“Didn’t their queen pledge their loyalty?”
“Aye, but she was deathly ill.”
“That makes no difference. The sons will remain true to her word.”
“But what if they’re pushed to revolt?”
“Treachery goes against their nature. All double-dealing does. When I’m in their halls, I’ve no need for locked chests. Only here…”
“I do na doubt their honesty,” said Sevren. “I’m worried about their tolerance. They’re na treated well. They’re called Palace Piss Eyes and Girta’s Goblins.”
“Even if they understood those insults, it wouldn’t sway them. Their loyalty is to their queen, not ours. Yet I take it things aren’t going well.”