[Queen of Orcs 01] - King's Property (36 page)

Dar’s sole consolation was that her branded forehead brought no bounty in King Feistav’s realm.
That won’t help me if I’m caught with orcs
. Avoiding capture would be difficult. They were surrounded by enemies, so their hope lay in stealth; yet orcs had no aptitude for subterfuge. They were perplexed even by simple stratagems, and Dar had difficulty persuading them to avoid the roadway. If Kovok-mah hadn’t followed her, the others might never have. Yet, while Kovok-mah supported her decisions, Dar doubted he truly understood them.

Unable to sleep, Dar decided to scout the route ahead. She ascended the slope until she emerged from the trees to stand on a cliff at the hill’s summit. The hilltop proved to be the last high ground, giving Dar an unobstructed view of the rolling plain ahead. Haze obscured the more distant features, and Dar saw no trace of the Urkheit Mountains.

The land appeared well populated—a quilt of fields, orchards, and woodlots, all demarcated by dark green hedgerows. A nearby rise was crowned by a wall that encircled a small village. Dar also spotted dwellings shattered among the fields and orchards and grew apprehensive as she imagined all the hostile eyes the countryside contained. She was trying to plot a safe route through it when Kovok-mah emerged from the trees. “Why did you leave?” he asked in Orcish.

“To study way,” replied Dar in the same tongue. Speaking it had become second nature. She gazed at Kovok-mah and read his expression. “Hai, there’ll be many washavokis.”

“Then there’ll be much fighting.”

“Thwa,” said Dar. “There are too many to fight. We must pass unnoticed.”

“So we travel by night?”

“More than that,” said Dar. “You must not look like urkzimmuthi.”

Kovok-mah curled his lips into a grin. “Have you magic? How will you change us?”

“You’ll change yourselves,” said Dar. “Leave your iron clothes behind, speak softly or not at all, and wear cloaks I took from dead washavoki soldiers.”

Kovok-mah looked puzzled. “We’ll still be urkzimmuthi.”

“In darkness, washavokis may not think so,” said Dar. She could tell Kovok-mah was struggling to grasp her idea. “Washavokis don’t expect to find urkzimmuthi in their land. They may not understand what they see.”

Kovok-mah pondered Dar’s words awhile before he spoke. “After battle, I said I’d heed your wisdom. I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Will others heed it also?”

“They’ll follow my example.”

“Cloaks smell of washavokis,” said Dar. “I fear Zna-yat will object.”

“Hai, I think he will.”

“Still, he must wear one.”

“He swore to follow me, so I can make him do it, if that’s your desire.”

“It is,” said Dar, fearing that if her ploy failed and the orcs were attacked, they would sorely miss their armor. She slumped down on a rock, realizing her plan gambled with their lives.

Kovok-mah sensed Dar’s turmoil and laid his hand on her shoulder, surprising her with the delicacy of his touch. “I’m pleased you guide us.”

Dar sighed. “I’m not used to leading.”

“It’s natural for mothers to guide sons.”

Perhaps among orcs
, thought Dar. “Still, it’s new to me. I worry about making mistakes.”

“When you feel uncertain, remember Muth la guides you.”

“Does she?” asked Dar. “I foresaw big battle and Little Bird’s death, but I couldn’t prevent either. What good are such visions?”

“I’m not fit to answer.”

“Muth la is new to me, but not to you,” said Dar. “What can you tell me of her ways?”

“She may be preparing you.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” said Kovok-mah. “But I think you will when time comes.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“When I have doubts, I follow my chest,” said Kovok-mah. “That’s why I’ll wear washavoki cloak.”

“Because of Muth la?”

“Thwa. Because of you. I feel safe with you.”

Dar stared up at Kovok-mah, who looked so formidable, and wondered at his words. Insincerity was alien to his thinking. As incredible as it sounded, he was speaking the truth: She made him feel secure. The idea that a woman could do that ran counter to everything Dar had ever been taught. It made her smile, partly because it was so ludicrous and partly because it was so pleasing.

While Dar and the orcs hid and rested, the remnant of King Kregant’s army rested also. After several skirmishes, King Feistav had abandoned pursuit. Many of Kregant’s men believed they were heading home, but experienced soldiers, such as Sevren and Valamar, suspected not. Rumors were about that the mage would use his arts to reverse the king’s fortunes, and those rumors seemed confirmed when some guardsmen were ordered to transform a peasant’s abandoned hut into a site suitable for necromancy.

The mage’s black tent had been lost in the retreat, and the hut was to be its temporary replacement. The guardsmen labored the entire day under the sorcerer’s watchful eye to seal every crack where light might enter. After sunset, they completed the work by blackening the hut’s walls and ceiling with a mixture of ash and blood. As the men painted, the mage burned incense that fouled the air. All who breathed it had disturbing dreams that night, especially the two men who fetched the final item the mage required.

Othar waited until the night’s darkest hour to return to the hut. Inside, a single oil lamp illuminated the bound child, who shivered in the unnatural cold. The mage closed the door and covered it with a thick curtain before getting to work. Taking a dagger and his iron bowl, he sacrificed the boy and used his blood to paint a protective circle. Once inside the circle, Othar opened a black sack embroidered with spells stitched in black thread.

The bones inside the sack had grown heavier, as if they weren’t bones at all, but objects crafted from iron or lead. The sorcerer had first noticed the change after the slaughter at the Vale of Pines. Othar didn’t understand its cause, but he hoped it foretold a change in his fortunes. He needed a change, for he sensed that the king’s anger might overcome his fear. If it did, Othar’s life was forfeit for his disastrous counsels.

Despite this, Othar remained devoted to the bones that had placed him in jeopardy. They had become more than tools. The bones had such a hold on him that he was as much their servant as they were his. Without them he was only a sham, for auguring with the bones was the only real magic Othar could perform. Before they came into his possession, Othar’s sorcery relied on deception and a knowledge of herbs and poisons. His daunting presence had been all show, for his skills had scarcely exceeded those of a knowledgeable Wise Woman. The bones had changed that. When their unearthly coldness stung Othar’s hands, he felt powerful—a true sorcerer at last.

Othar tossed the bones on the earthen floor and studied their portents. Never had the signs been so clear or promising. It occurred to him that the entity behind the bones was pleased by the battle’s bloody outcome, and it was rewarding him much the way a sated master throws his slave some meat.

That night, Othar learned much that pleased him. He discovered where rich plunder could be had—enough to appease his greedy king. He saw that the mysterious threat was far away and retreating farther still. Additional study yielded even greater satisfaction. Othar’s unknown enemy was moving into peril. The mage read the signs for “betrayal,” “bloodshed,” and “soon.”

DAR WAS TRAPPED, AND SHE KNEW IT

Marked as she was by her brand, escape was suicide, while life in the regiment seemed only a slower path to death. Women were easy to replace and valued accordingly. In such an atmosphere, men’s “generosity” and “protection” were hollow promises. Though Dar racked her brain, there seemed no refuge. Then she had an inspiration.

Dar lagged behind until the orcs overtook her. Soon she was walking in their midst. Spying Kovok-mah at the rear of the column, Dar slowed down until they were walking abreast. “Tava, Kovok-mah.”

Kovok-mah didn’t reply or even turn his head.

“Tava, Kovok-mah,” said Dar, louder this time.

The orc regarded Dar. An iron helmet enclosed his head and his green eyes peered out from it like a beast’s from a hole. With a sinking feeling, Dar realized the vastness of their differences, and her plan seemed as risky as it was desperate.

Advance praise for
Queen of the Orcs: King’s Property

“
King’s Property
tests your presumptions of ‘the other’ and brings to mind the cultural prejudices and wars born from betrayal that are so sadly evident throughout our own history.”

—K
ARIN
L
OWACHEE
, author of
Warchild

Queen of the Orcs: King’s Property
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Del Rey Books Mass Market Original

Copyright © 2007 by William H. Hubbell

Excerpt from
Queen of the Orcs: Clan Daughter
copyright © 2007 by William H. Hubbell

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

D
EL
R
EY
is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming mass market edition of
Queen of the Orcs: Clan Daughter
by Morgan Howell. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

Map © William H. Hubbell

eISBN: 978-0-345-50040-3

www.delreybooks.com

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