[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (2 page)

The woman seemed unperturbed that the grotesque stranger knew her name. She simply helped Nuggle get the mage off the cart and into the shanty, where a meager fire produced more smoke than heat. They eased Othar onto a filthy mattress. Moli brought over a loaf of hard bread and was about to give it to him when she saw that his hands were missing. Her dull eyes showed no surprise or any other emotion. Moli merely rose and grabbed a pot of cold, thin soup. Then she broke a piece from the loaf, which she softened in the soup before pushing it into Othar’s mouth.

When Moli’s fingers touched Othar lips, a sudden craving seized him. Like his power over minds, it was new. “Cut yourself,” he whispered. “Bleed into the soup.”

Moli pulled a knife from a pocket in her ragged shift and drew it across her wrist. Othar watched hungrily as a red stream colored the soup pink. Soaked in the bloody liquid, the next bite of bread was more to his liking. He would have enjoyed watching Moli bleed to death, but he needed her. “Bind your wound,” he said, knowing that she lacked the will even to save her life.

Moli obeyed, then continued her ministrations. While she fed him, Othar leisurely probed her mind. A part was filled with terror and disgust, but that part was as helpless as someone bricked into a wall. Moli’s memories were intact, but her thoughts were reduced to those Othar had given her. He realized that Moli would serve him until her mind snapped from the strain. The mage already sensed tears in her sanity, and he was curious what would happen when it tore asunder.
I’ll find out soon enough
, he thought.
She can’t last long.

Othar decided to have Moli lure her replacement to the shack at dawn, for he had already discovered that he required eye contact to seize a mind. The mage was still puzzling on how he acquired the power, and he speculated that it either came from the bones or the entity behind them. The latter seemed most likely. Othar had felt its presence whenever he had used the bones to foretell events. It was malicious and bloodthirsty; his ravaged body was proof of that.
Then, why would it bestow this gift on me?
An answer came quickly.
So I can revenge myself on Dar!

Two

Dar awoke, both surprised and puzzled. “Mer lav?”
I live?

A mother knelt before her. She bowed her head and replied in Orcish. “Muth la has preserved your life.”

Why?
thought Dar. She had returned to pass on Fathma, the Divine Mother’s gift that bestowed sovereignty over the orcs. In her near-death state, she had been able to see it fluttering within the shell of her body, a thing of spirit like a second soul. That vision had departed. Dar could no longer see her spirit or any other’s. The world was solid again. It was also unfamiliar. “Where am I?” she asked in Orcish.

“Your hanmuthi, Muth Mauk.”

Dar realized that she was still queen. Muth Mauk—
Great Mother
—was not only her title; it had become her name. Dar tried to raise her head and look about, but found she couldn’t. She recalled the mother’s face, but not her name. After Dar had been reborn, every Yat clan member had formally introduced him or herself, and the parade of visitors had lasted days. “I know you,” said Dar, “but I forget your name.”

“I’m Deen-yat, clan healer.”

“I thought I was dying.”

“You were,” said the healer.

Dar thought she should be relieved and joyful. Instead, she felt daunted.
I returned to pass on the crown, not rule!
In her still-fragile state, that task seemed overwhelming.
I don’t know what to do!

Deen-yat smelled Dar’s anxiety, but mistook its reason. “You’ll live, Muth Mauk.”

“Then I have your skill to thank.”

“Your recovery is not my deed. That herb’s magic is deadly.”

“I was only scratched by blade.”

“Such scratches have slain sons, and quickly, too. Your life is Muth la’s gift.”

Dar knew Deen-yat’s words were meant to comfort, but they didn’t.
Muth la has her own purposes.
While Dar thought she understood why she had become queen, she couldn’t understand why she remained so.

“How long have I been here?”

“Sun has risen thrice since your return.”

“I wish to see my muthuri and my sisters.”

“And you will when you’re better.” Deen-yat smiled. “Even queens must obey healers.”

The healer stayed by Dar’s side and tended her throughout the day. Toward evening, Dar found the strength to sit up and gaze about. She was in one of the numerous sleeping chambers of the largest hanmuthi she had ever seen. Even the sleeping chambers had adjoining rooms of their own.
Many families could live here,
she thought. She peered through a carved stone archway into the spacious central room. As with all hanmuthis, it was circular and featured a hearth in its center. The room was empty, as were all the other chambers.

Dar’s chamber was especially magnificent. There was a huge window glazed with panes of sand ice. The floor was a mosaic of a flowery meadow. The meadow extended to the stone walls, which were carved with a low relief that depicted a landscape. The foreground was filled with delicately rendered wildflowers. In the distance was an orcish city. “It that Tarathank?” asked Dar.

“Hai, Muth Mauk.”

“I’ve visited its ruin,” said Dar, recalling her night with Kovok-mah. Deen-yat’s expression underwent a subtle change, and Dar realized that the healer had smelled atur—the scent of love. Good manners precluded Deen-yat from mentioning it, but orcs seldom hid their feelings.

“Washavoki brought me here on horse,” said Dar, “but there was son who helped him. He gave me healing magic on way.” Dar glanced down at the star-shaped incision beneath her breast. It was surrounded by dark, discolored flesh. “Did he come here also?”

“Do you mean your muthuri’s brother’s son?”

“Hai. Kovok-mah.”

“He came here, but he has returned home.”

Dar’s heart sank. In her weakened state, she feared that she might start weeping. “I wish I could have seen him. He helped save my life.”

“His muthuri forbade him to be with you,” replied Deen-yat. “Once he learned you would live, he couldn’t linger.”

Dar’s despair deepened.
So the word is out. Even Deen-yat knows
. “What of washavoki who brought me?”

“It has returned to its own kind.”

So Sevren’s gone, too,
thought Dar.
At least I have my family
. “I’d like to see my muthuri soon. And my sisters, especially Nir-yat.” Dar surveyed the empty rooms about her, already missing the lively atmosphere of Zor-yat’s hanmuthi. “It’s too quiet here.”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” said Deen-yat. She felt Dar’s brow and sniffed her wound. “Hai, you should be well enough to see them.” She gave Dar a sympathetic look. “It would do you good. It’s lonely being great mother.”

It was long after nightfall when Kovok-mah arrived at the hall where his parents lived. As he shook the snow from his cloak, his aunt greeted him. “Sister’s son! I’m surprised to see you. Kath! Your son has returned from Taiben.”

Kath-mah emerged from a sleeping chamber, still rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes. “Kovok? Why are you here? You were sent to kill for washavoki king.”

“King is dead, Muthuri. Another rules washavokis now.”

“Doesn’t our queen wish you to kill for it also?”

“We have new queen.”

“This is news indeed! How is that possible? Our queen lived apart.”

“She found someone to receive Fathma. Before she died, queen passed it to that mother.”

“But mothers no longer visit Taiben.”

“This one did.”

Kath-mah regarded her son irritably. “Who is she? Why don’t you tell me?”

“She was Dargu-yat. But since Fathma changes spirit, she’s Dargu-yat no more.”

Kath-mah stared at her son, momentarily dumbfounded. Then her expression hardened. “And because I forbade you to be with Dargu-yat, perhaps you think I’ll change my mind.”

Kovok-mah bowed humbly to his muthuri. “That’s my hope.”

“When Dargu was reborn, magic transformed her spirit but not her body. She was still as ugly as any washavoki. Now that she’s great mother, has that changed?”

“Thwa.”

“Then her body won’t bear me granddaughters.”

“Although I wish for daughters, I think other things are more important.”

“That’s because you’re young. Daughters give you standing. Look at my sister and me. Who greeted you to her hanmuthi?”

“But Dargu is great mother!”

“And her hanmuthi—however grand—will always lack children.”

“Then you won’t change your mind?”

“Thwa.”

“When I saw Dargu-yat in Taiben, she said you would bless us.”

“Where would she get that strange notion?”

“Perhaps from her muthuri. Didn’t you two speak together?”

“We did. And Zor-yat knew my mind in this matter. She sympathized and even warned me of Dargu-yat’s power.”

“What power?”

“Your attraction to her is unnatural. That’s magic’s doing.”

“Dargu knows no magic, though Muth la sends her visions. My feelings come from Muth la.”

“Don’t speak foolishly. Sons don’t understand such matters.”

Kovok-mah summoned his courage, and for the first time in his life, he refused to submit passively. “My chest is strong in this.”

“I know,” said Kath-mah. “Air is heavy with your atur. Whether it is due to magic or Muth la, I remain firm and withhold my blessing. Do nothing rash. Our laws are strict, and even great mothers must bend to them. Heed my wisdom, or your feelings will destroy our queen.”

Three

Dar entered darkness with Muth-pah. As before, the Pah clan matriarch led the way through a narrow cave, which was dimly lit by the embers from a string of fires. As Muth-pah passed each glowing pile, she poured water on it. Steam from the extinguished embers filled the dark space, making it hot and damp. Unlike the last time Dar had entered darkness, they didn’t arrive at a chamber. Instead, the piles of embers seemed to extend without end—a dotted line of faint orange lights in a black void.

Dar and Muth-pah continued to advance while the dark closed in behind them. Muth-pah’s vessel never emptied and the steam grew ever thicker until the way was hard to see. The heat became oppressive. Dar spoke to Muth-pah. “When will this end?”

“How should I know, Muth Mauk? This is your journey.” Muth-pah doused yet another fire, and when it went out, all light disappeared. Dar cried out, but there was no reply. She was utterly alone.

Dar sat up drenched in sweat and unsure if she was awake or dreaming. Since she had been stabbed, most of her existence seemed dreamlike. Dar recalled her arrival at the hall and wondered if she had truly viewed the spirits of everyone around her and judged their worth.
If I did, then there’s one here who should be queen.
Yet that mother had vanished before Dar could bestow Fathma. Dar didn’t know who she was, for spirits looked unlike bodies. Dar had recognized no one.

Dar gazed about the dark hanmuthi. For a moment, she thought she saw sleepers in the other chambers, sitting upright beneath sleeping cloaks. She rubbed her eyes, and the rooms were empty again. The only sleeper was Deen-yat, who sat in Dar’s chamber. Dar rose from her mattress to stand and let the sweat dry from her torso. She resolved to bathe first thing in the morning, for she didn’t want to greet her family “snoofa va washavoki”—
reeking like washavoki.
Dar suspected that the acceptance she had experienced upon her rebirth would be tested soon. She was no longer simply Zor-yat’s daughter, and she’d be judged by a higher standard. Experience had taught her that mothers lacked the subservience of sons. Though she was queen, the obedience she had received in Taiben might not come so quickly in the Yat clan hall.