[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (18 page)

While Tolum Kol showed the prince feints and attacks, he often disparaged women’s timidity. By such means he hoped to separate the boy from his mother and initiate him into the fraternity of warriors. Kol knew that he had to do this slyly, for he didn’t want to alienate the queen. At the moment, he wasn’t sure whether the mother or the son would be more useful to his cause. Kol had decided to take a different tack with each. He would play on Girta’s fears while encouraging the prince’s bravado, and see which tactic proved more promising. Kol was aware that he couldn’t pursue this double strategy too long. Sooner or later, he would have to choose mother or son and eliminate the other.

Kol ended the day’s lesson by showing the prince how an upward thrust could slip between the plates of an orc’s armored tunic. He had procured one for the purpose. “Just like sliding under fish scales,” Kol said, demonstrating with his dagger. “Now you try it.”

Kregant III attacked the tunic as if it were an orc, thrusting savagely. “Die, piss eye! Die! Die!”

Kol laughed. “Well struck! Well struck! That piss eye’s dead for sure. Mind the blood now. Don’t track it on your mother’s floor.”

The prince jumped up and down in the imaginary puddles. “Splash! Splash! Splash! Orc blood everywhere!”

Kol laughed more heartily. “By Karm, you’re a lad after my own spirit.”

Dar hosted her tenth feast with practiced graciousness, although the nightly dinners were beginning to wear on her.
Twenty-three more to go
, she thought, feeling fatigued by the prospect. The fare she served that night was ample and delicious, but less elaborate than earlier dinners. Tahweriti was no longer the main dish. It had been replaced by gatuub, a stew of mutton and dried fruit. As always, the meal ended with falfhissi.

The family Dar served that night was headed by an elderly muthuri, who had three blessed daughters. These also had daughters who had begun families of their own, so Dar’s hanmuthi held four generations. Only Kovok-mah augmented that crowd, for Dar had not chosen additional mintaris yet and Nir-yat was spending the night with Thir-yat. When Dar’s guests departed, Kovok-mah quickly retreated to his sleeping chamber.

Dar retired also. When she slept, she dreamed of Twea. It wasn’t the first time her dreams included the girl, but upon this occasion the dream was especially vivid. Dar was watching Twea play on the Turgen’s bank. Twea was shoeless and ragged, but happy. Sevren was there also, smiling at the sight. “She’s a sunny child,” he said, “though she has little cause. In Averen, we’d say she’s ‘faerie kissed.’”

In her dream, as on the day she dreamed of, Dar replied, “She’s just ignorant of her future.” With those words, Dar awoke. Lying on her bed, she recalled the events that followed: Twea on the forced march, her thin body growing thinner still. Carrying Twea when the girl couldn’t walk. Hiding her in the wagon before the battle. Their separation. Laying Twea’s body within Muth la’s Embrace and covering her bloody chest with wildflowers.

Regret and grief hit Dar hard.
She was like my daughter, and I failed her.
The dream had been so real it seemed that Twea had just left the room. Dar’s sense of loss was equally immediate. It felt unbearable. Dar rose from her bed. Her bare feet made no noise as she crossed the dark hanmuthi.

Kovok-mah sat motionless on his sleeping mat. As Dar approached him, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Hai, Muth Mauk.”

“I dreamed of Little Bird,” said Dar, using Kovok-mah’s name for the girl. “I miss her so.”

“I, too.”

“Only you and I remember her now.” Dar sighed. “She looked so tiny next to you, but you never frightened her. I think she saw your gentleness right away. Do you recall that day when she stuck flowers in your armor?”

“I remember.”

“And how happy she was to have some bread on morning of battle?”

“Battle you warned me about, though I lacked understanding. I found you standing over Little Bird…screaming curses at all washavokis…inviting death and…” Kovok-mah paused. “Muth Mauk, your face is wet.”

Dar wiped her eyes. “I’m sad, Kovok. So sad. And I want to sleep. Sleep upright, like urkzimmuthi, not lying down like baby or one who is ill.” Dar paused to sniffle. “And I can only do that if you hold me like you did on our journey.”

Dar waited, but there was no reply. Taking Kovok-mah’s silence for acquiescence, she climbed onto his lap and reclined her back against his broad chest. Kovok-mah’s arms tenderly enveloped her. They trembled slightly as his lips softly brushed her ear. “Dargu,” he whispered.

Twenty-one

The cold, stony ground hurt Dar’s bare feet with every stride. She ran regardless of the pain, driven by panic.
He mustn’t see me!
There was a crevice between two boulders, and she scrambled into it. At first, she was panting too hard to hear footsteps, despite straining to detect them. When her breathing calmed, she heard the crunch of leather soles on flinty ground. The pace was unhurried. Dar was too tired to run anymore. Instead, she remained in her hiding place, hoping to be overlooked.

Wedged into the cramped space, she smelled her unwashed body. Its musky odor was that of a wild animal. Her skin, moist with sweat, was already beginning to chill. The hides she wore provided little warmth. Stiff with dirt, their matted fur was already falling out.
I’ll freeze this winter, unless…
Dar could imagine no alternative.

The footsteps grew louder, then halted. A figure was outside the crevice.
A son!
His green-gold eyes glanced into the darkness between the boulders. As soon as they caught Dar’s gaze, they shifted away, denying her presence. Dar’s panic transformed into something worse—desolation.
I’m dead
, she reminded herself.
Thwada.

Dar awoke in Kovok-mah’s arms, and the panic returned. It was still night. Without a word, she scrambled from his embrace and retreated to her cold bed. Lying down, she relived her nightmare. There was no mistaking its warning.
I can never be weak again!
Dar knew that Kovok-mah would do anything for her, but he was incapable of lying. Nir-yat was also. Secrets could not be kept. A simple question would uncover the truth, and Dar had no doubts there were those who would ask it.

Unable to sleep, Dar devised strategies to avoid temptation. She decided to bite Nagtha-yat’s and Lama-tok’s necks that day, reasoning that a more crowded hanmuthi would be more inhibiting. She also would send Kovok-mah to Taiben to report on how the treaty was faring. She felt she had neglected that matter far too long.
Girta probably thinks I’m dead. The sons who guard her probably do also.
Dar was pleased how Kovok-mah’s journey would solve two problems at once. After coming up with the plan, she resolved to implement it in the morning.

When Tolum Kol arrived to give the prince his lesson, he was greeted by Lokung. The steward informed him that the queen wished to see him, then added in a low voice, “Beware. She’s angry about the sword.”

Forewarned, Kol entered the chamber. Girta stood gazing out the window, clutching his gifts to her son. When she heard his footsteps, she whirled to face him. “Tolum, what are
these
?” she asked, holding out the sword and dagger.

“In truth, Your Majesty, they’re charms. Charms against fear. Charms against danger.”

“They look more like weapons to me.”

“Yet they serve as charms. Your son’s in peril, and they’ll make him safer.”

Girta drew the child-sized sword. “How can this toy make him safer? You said you’d not teach him belligerence.”

“That’s not my intent. Let me ask you one thing: If an assassin were to approach, how would you alert your guards?”

“I’d shout ‘tav.’ That’s the word Gargo-something taught me.”

“And ‘tav’ means ‘kill’ in Orcish,” said Kol. “Your Majesty, just who would the orcs kill?”

“Why…my assailant.”

“They wouldn’t stop there. They’d slaughter everyone who smelt of fear. I’ve seen it countless times. Men. Women. Children. Orcs make no distinction.”

“You’re saying they’d kill my son?”

“They’d be obeying your command—at least as they understood it. That’s why your son must not smell like an enemy. If that sword makes him confident around them, it need not be unsheathed to save his life.”

Girta pondered what Kol had said, then handed him the sword and dagger. “Sir, I misjudged you.”

Kol bowed. “That’s understandable. Few comprehend the twists of the orcish mind, so my actions seem counter to common sense. It feels unnatural that a sword could render a boy safe when weapons so frequently cause mischief.”

“Yes, unnatural indeed,” said Girta. She glanced at the closed door and envisioned her orc guards stationed beyond it. The idea of them made her hair rise.

Muth-mah came to the Yat clan hall on the morning Dar added Nagtha-yat and Lama-tok to her mintaris and sent Kovok-mah on his journey. Togu-mah brought Dar news of her arrival. Dar glanced to Nir-yat. “What I am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” replied Nir-yat.

“Muth Mauk,” said Nagtha-yat with a bow. “I can answer that question.”

“Speak.”

“Muth-mah will be arriving for Council of Matriarchs, and matriarchs prefer their own company. Muth-yat will host her, but Muth-mah should pay you courtesy.”

“How will she do that?” asked Dar.

“Give her chance to rest awhile, then greet her in Great Chamber. When you’re ready, send Togu-mah to her and she will come.” Then Nagtha-yat spoke to Togu-mah. “Matriarchs are never fetched. You must say ‘Muth Mauk is thinking of you. She sits in Great Chamber.’”

Dar took extra care in her preparations. Needing an ally against Muth-yat’s opposition, she hoped to make a regal first impression. She was nervous when she went to the Great Chamber and ascended the throne. After she sent Togu-mah with her message, she expected the Mah clan matriarch to appear soon after, but that was not the case. Dar waited a long time before Muth-mah arrived. She was an imposing figure. A full head taller than Dar and in her middle years, Muth-mah appeared powerful and robust. Her eyes were golden, not yellow, and their gaze bore the assurance of one accustomed to obedience.

“May Muth la bless you, Muth-mah.”

Muth-mah inclined her head instead of bowing. “Shashav, Muth Mauk.”

“You’re first matriarch to arrive.”

“Way is short, and I was curious.”

“About me?”

“Of course. Everyone has heard of reborn mother who is now queen.” The matriarch regarded Dar with frank appraisal. “You’re even uglier than I expected.”

“My appearance is not urkzimmuthi, but my spirit is. It was even before I received Fathma.”

“Hai, I’ve heard that tale. It’s said you were only mother near dying queen.”

“She was dying because she sacrificed her life,” said Dar. “She did so only after deciding I was worthy.”

“She wanted someone to return Fathma to urkzimmuthi, and you have. You couldn’t have done that without becoming queen. Whether you’re fit to remain one is different matter.”

“You seem to speak as though you think I’m not.”

Muth-mah gave the equivalent of a shrug. “I’m only one voice among seven.”

“There are nine clan matriarchs,” said Dar.

“Pah clan is lost, and Muth-goth has stopped coming to councils. She’s very old, and way’s too long and difficult for her, even in summer.”

“I’ll miss seeing Muth-goth,” said Dar. “I met her when I traveled from west.” She watched Muth-mah’s face for a reaction, but detected none.

“I saw Togu-mah when I arrived, but not Kovok-mah,” said Muth-mah. “Where is he?”

“I sent him to Taiben. Why do you take interest in my mintaris?”

“I don’t. Only Kovok-mah interests me. His muthuri is concerned.”

“Why?”

“You and her son were velazuls until she forbade it.”

“Thus we are velazuls no longer.”

“Though you’re reborn, and I’m told you remain handicapped. It’s said you see poorly in dark and have little sense of smell. You can’t tell if someone’s angry, fearful, or in love.”

“There are other ways to know these things besides smell.”

“Hai. Just as blind ones see with their hands and ears. Still, are you aware that you smell of atur?”

“That question is impolite.”

“This matter is too important for politeness.”

“I don’t control how I smell, only how I act. I’m aware of our laws. How could I be otherwise?”

“Wise deeds should match wisdom.” Muth-mah gave an abbreviated bow. “It’s tradition for matriarchs and new queen to stay apart until council. We’ll speak again at that time.”

Dar declined to say, “You have pleased me.” Instead, she nodded to Muth-mah. “I’ll see you then.”

Dar remained on her throne long after the matriarch had departed. She was shaken by Muth-mah’s apparent hostility, for the upcoming council was a crucial one. The lorekeeper had told her so. It would be when the matriarchs affirmed her fitness to rule. Usually that affirmation was a formality, but not always. There had been three instances when a new queen had been required to drink Muth la’s Draught to prove her fitness. On every occasion, the queen had died.