[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (17 page)

“Then you must find Taiben confining.”

“I do at times. I imagine the women you know lead more adventurous lives.”

“I know no women,” said Kol. “I have sisters, but I haven’t seen them in years. A military man leads an unsettled life.”

“But women served in your regiments.”

“Those branded wretches! Honorable men avoided them.”

“Why?” asked Girta. “Because they were unfortunate?”

“Their misfortune was their own doing. When we levied women, the villages sent their troublemakers. Slatterns, thieves, and worse. Still, I loathed branding them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Our king’s command. Unbranded women fled. Orcs are not gentle masters.”

“Dar said differently.”

“She knew how to please them.”

“And how was that?” asked Girta.

“To say, I must violate your injunction.”

“And speak ill of her?”

“Yes, and most indelicately.”

Despite herself, Girta was intrigued. “Say your tale. I’ll hear it.”

“I’m told orc females look not unlike human ones. Though bull orcs think our women ugly, they’re not repelled by them.”

“Are you saying that…that…” Girta shuddered.

“I said it’s an indelicate subject.”

“How unnatural!”

“Unnatural, but not so uncommon. We’ve all heard of shepherds who take solace with their ewes. A woman can’t fight off a lustful orc. But Dar was different. She didn’t resist. Quite the opposite.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Ask any of your royal guards about the orc wench. They were there. That’s what Dar was named. A title she bore proudly.”

“Are you saying she whored her way to the crown?”

“I don’t believe she did. Whoring may have gained her some advantage, but I think she offered them more than her favors.”

“What?”

“Your realm.”

Girta took a deep swallow of wine. “Can you explain your meaning?”

“Orcs are cruel and savage fighters, but they’re not clever. We humans have always used our wits to best them. That’s why they fight for us rather than against us. But don’t doubt their resentment. I liken them to dogs. We’re the masters, yet if we drop our guard they’ll tear out our throats. I think Dar offered to betray her kind in exchange for the crown. Look how she fooled the Queen’s Man and your husband. And that treaty she had you sign brought orcs inside the palace.”

“How would that treaty benefit her?” asked Girta. “She was dying.”

“If she truly was, it gained her naught. But I’d keep an eye on your orc guards.”

“The same guards you’re teaching the prince not to fear?”

“Fear encourages attack. You should be calm, but wary.”

“I keep a wary eye on everyone. Men are dangerous, too. And as you’ve said, they’re more treacherous than orcs.”

“You’re right about that,” said Kol. “I trust your son can defend himself.”

“He has a fencing master.”

“Would he be safe against a cutthroat with a dirk? Assassins don’t abide by fencers’ rules.”

“He’s only eight.”

“All the more reason to know a few tricks.”

“Tricks you could teach him?” asked Girta.

“I’ve eluded death more than once. I’d gladly show the prince what I know.”

“When he becomes king, I want him to know more than war.”

“You’re wise to hate it. I’ve seen too much to call war glorious or noble. The prince should fight only to save his life or his kingdom.”

“Then we’re like-minded in this,” said Girta. “It would please me if you spent time with the prince.”

“I’d be honored to instruct him.”

Queen Girta called for Lokung after Tolum Kol departed, and asked him to fetch a guardsman, specifying that he be one who served on the summer campaign. The steward left and returned with a man named Wulfar. Girta sent Lokung outside the room before she spoke. “I’m told you fought for my husband this summer.”

“I did, Yer Majesty.”

“I’m curious about a woman who served in the regiments on that campaign. I’m told she was notorious. They called her the orc wench.”

“Has Sevren complained to Yer Majesty?”

“Why do ask that?”

“I’ve heard he has yer ear.”

“So?”

“He was sweet on her. Still is, I think. So if he’s told tales against me…”

“He hasn’t. I just want to know about the orc wench.”

“Well, she tupped an orc. I know that. And it killed a man for her.”

“I see,” said Girta. “What happened to her?”

“She must have run off with her orc. Leastways, she was gone when the fighting stopped. I thought she was dead until she showed up here.”

“Can you tell me any more about her?”

“Not really, Yer Majesty. The rest of the guard will tell ye much the same.”

“You may leave. And send my steward to me as you depart.”

As much as the queen disliked admitting it, she conceded that Lokung had been right in disparaging Sevren.
Even if Sevren isn’t a traitor
,
his loyalties are divided.
Girta could see no reason for Wulfar to lie to her, and his assertion explained why Sevren had helped Dar. When Lokung entered the chamber, Girta instructed him to bar Sevren from further audiences. The steward bowed and departed, his expression neutral.

When the queen was alone again, she took stock of her situation. She had heard much that compounded her worries. Tolum Kol seemed right; her uneasiness with the orcs was justified. Girta realized that her belief in Dar’s sincerity had convinced her to make a treaty with the orcs and solicit their protection.
What if she played me false?
Further questions followed.
Is Dar still alive? If so, what are her intentions?

Though Girta had no way to check all of Tolum Kol’s claims, her interview with the guardsman had verified a major one. It seemed certain that Dar had taken an orc for a lover. A woman capable of that was capable of anything. Yet despite its worrisome implications, Girta was glad to have confirmed Kol’s story, for it proved his truthfulness.
And I sorely need someone I can trust.

Twenty

In the two days following Kovok-mah’s arrival, Dar received seven more candidates for her mintaris in the Great Chamber. The sons from the Hak clan and the Jan clan had been selected by their clan’s matriarchs. Although Dar knew their names, they were strangers to her. Nagtha-yat, whom she knew and had requested, accompanied the Jan clan sons. The Tok clan was also represented. Kak-tok had been recommended by Nir-yat. The other candidate proved a delightful surprise. He was Lama-tok. He grinned broadly as he bowed. “Dargu! One of your wolves has returned.” Then he howled.

Dar laughed. “How good to see you again! How’s Duth-tok?”

“My brother was blessed upon his return and now lives with his muthvashi in Smat clan hall.”

Custom required Dar to bless each son by name, and she interrupted her conversation with her old traveling companion to do that. After the blessings were accomplished, she felt at a loss. The mixture of strange and familiar faces did not suggest a single course of action. The sons gazed at her expectantly. Dar’s mind began to race, and for a moment, she feared she’d have nothing to say. Then the memories of a long line of queens came to her. Each had overcome similar awkwardness. Encouraged by their example, Dar grew calm and words came to her.

Dar gazed into the eyes of each son before she spoke. “I know some of you, and some I’ll come to know. Yet all have been deemed worthy to stand before me, and I’m pleased you’re here. For many generations, your clans have sent sons to serve great mothers. Yet there has never been great mother such as I. I’m not sure why Muth la set me on this throne. I didn’t seek to become queen. I’m still surprised I’m here.

“Because I’ve been reborn, I look strange to you. My spirit is urkzimmuthi, but my body still has its old form. Perhaps that’s part of Muth la’s plan, I don’t know. What I do know is that Fathma unites me with all great mothers. Their spirits have mingled with mine, and my fate is same as theirs—to be muthuri to all urkzimmuthi. When you serve me, it’s our race you truly serve.”

Dar saw affirmation in the sons’ expressions. All seemed proud to be there, and their attitude was gratifying. It reminded her of how readily the orcs in the regiments had obeyed her when she led them against the king. Dar realized that sons were used to being led and not prone to question a mother’s authority.
No wonder queens use mintaris to rule.
Dar was inclined to accept all the candidates on the spot, but decided it would be prudent to wait. Instead, she turned them over to Nir-yat, who arranged for their lodging.

Throughout the remainder of the day, she met with each candidate individually in order to get to know him better. Every son provided a detailed genealogy and spoke of his profession, which was often associated with his clan. The Jan clan was known as the Iron Clan and both its sons were metalworkers. One was skilled at foundry work, and the other fashioned armor. The Tok clan was the Stone Clan. Dar already knew that Lama-tok was a mason. Kak-tok, who was his third cousin, was a stone carver. As Dar expected, one of the Hak clan sons made sand ice, but the other grew crops.

Dar spoke with Nagtha-yat the longest, because he had been raised in a queen’s hanmuthi. “It was bustling place,” recalled Nagtha-yat. “Not only did my family live there, but also thirteen mintaris and their families. Sons live with their spouse’s clan, except if they’re mintaris.”

“Does that cause problem for mothers?”

“Some mothers won’t wed son whose neck is bitten,” said Nagtha-yat. “That’s why only unblessed sons or widowers are sent as candidates. Yet many mothers are pleased to live in queen’s hanmuthi, for not all have prospect of heading hanmuthi of their own.”

“My hanmuthi is nearly empty,” said Dar. “Only my sister and one mintari share it with me.”

“You have mintari already?”

“Hai. He is Kovok-mah.”

“I remember him. You slept in his shelter.”

“Hai. And we journeyed together after great battle,” said Dar. Nagtha-yat’s expression altered, and Dar suspected her scent was revealing her feelings. She quickly changed the subject. “I’ve spoken to your aunt, Meera-yat. She advised me briefly, then refused to speak further.” When Nagtha-yat didn’t ask why, Dar volunteered the reason. “She believes that I’m queen from west.”

Nagtha-yat appeared undisturbed by the news. “Because you journeyed here from west?”

“Hai.”

“What difference does that make?”

“There are tales about western queen. Have you heard them?”

“Thwa.”

“I want you as one of my mintaris. Your experience would be valuable to me. But I must first warn you that Meera-yat fears my reign will bring destruction to this hall. To her, I’m ill-omened.”

Nagtha-yat regarded Dar thoughtfully. “You warn me so I might decline to bend my neck?”

“I don’t want you to regret your decision.”

“Though Muth la seldom speaks to sons, I know this: She often sends difficult choices. I’m speaking about you, not myself. Do you love this hall?”

“I do. I was reborn here. Within its walls I’ve found love and acceptance. Former queens have given me fond memories of this place.”

“Hai,” said Nagtha-yat softly. “My muthuri’s memories are among them. Your eyes are strangely colored, but I see them there.” He paused. “Perhaps Muth la will send you some terrible choice. If she does, I think you’ll choose wisely. Believing that, I can serve you without reservations. If you wish, I’ll bend my neck for you.”

Tolum Kol had prepared in advance, so his gift was ready for the prince’s first lesson. Kol gave it to the boy when they were alone. It was a sword, as well made and as deadly as the one he wore, but sized for the boy’s stature. The prince seized the weapon and drew it from its scabbard, brandishing it gleefully. Kol smiled as the boy engaged in an imaginary sword fight, wildly slashing the air.

“That’s no toy,” said Kol. “It will slay as quickly as any blade.” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “And if you slash it around, you’ll alarm your mother.”

The prince made a face. “Will she take it away?”

“I hope not. You’ll be a man sooner than she thinks, and a man needs a sword. A dagger, too.” Kol produced an adult-sized weapon, which the prince examined with the same enthusiasm he had the sword.

Afterward, Kol commenced his lessons. He combined practical tips for self-defense with stories of adventures with arms. His goal was less to teach the boy than to win him over. From his own observations and the intelligence from other conspirators, he had surmised that the prince pined for a father. By all accounts, Kregant II had been a distant parent who had left a void in his son’s life even before his death. Kol aimed to fill that void, and he proceeded with the prince as if he were seducing a woman.

Kol’s life fitted him well for the task. His father had been a brutal man who meted out curses and blows, but not affection. As a young boy, Kol longed for his father’s love as a starving man dreams of banquets. Disappointment made him cynical. Kol’s father owned an inn, and there Kol was taught to deal callously with people. By the time he ran away, he was a skilled manipulator. It was a talent that proved useful in the army, especially when augmented by ruthlessness. Those recollections of his boyhood guided Kol’s dealings with the prince. He attempted to personify the caring father he never had. Kol was not only patient and kind; he cut a heroic figure who exuded adventure. He became the ideal companion for a boy, and he could do what Girta couldn’t—introduce the prince to the world of men. There, he aimed to teach him the manly art of war.