[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (31 page)

“Kol?” asked Dar.

“Aye. ’Tis him.”

Dar shook her head as if trying to break free from a nightmare. “But Othar can’t be alive,” she said. “When I threw those magic bones into the fire, he…”

“Changed,” said Sevren.

Dar’s hairs rose as she recalled Muth-goth’s vision.
She said the bones were not gone, only changed. And Velasa-pah warned of the bones in Muth la’s Dome.
“So what do you think happened?”

“I know little of magic,” said Sevren, “but I recall Othar’s sorcery turned on him once before. His face was blasted, yet he lived. Perhaps it was likewise when you burnt the bones.”

“Those bones had power,” said Dar. “I could feel it. Burning them might have only released it. But if their power went to Othar, why is he hiding? If he can take spirits, why hasn’t he taken Girta’s?”

“That girl I caught looked and acted strange,” replied Sevren, “and the magic quickly killed her. A dead queen would be of little use.”

“But you think he’s the power behind Kol? That’s a fearful thought. To what purpose?”

“I do na know,” said Sevren. “And to tell the truth, until I learned you were alive, I did na care. I only questioned my friend this morning.”

Dar remembered that only Kovok-mah and Nagtha-yat could follow her conversation with Sevren, so she spoke to the orcs in their language. “Sevren thinks Black Washavoki didn’t die and is still working against us.”

“Then you shouldn’t go alone into Taiben,” said Zna-yat.

“Brother,” said Dar in a gentle voice, “since when do sons tell mothers what to do? Especially great mothers?”

“I’m sorry, Muth Mauk, but I had to speak my chest. What good are wisdom and bravery against magic? I’m frightened for you.”

“I’m frightened also,” said Dar. “Yet what use is great mother who can’t face our enemies? Washavoki queen must be warned, for her danger will quickly become ours.”

“I understood all Sevren said,” said Kovok-mah, “yet I’m not certain Black Washavoki lives.”

Dar turned to Sevren and spoke in the human tongue. “He has a point. You have no proof that Othar’s alive. I doubt Girta will believe me.”

“I’ll find that proof. I offered you my service once before, and I offer it again. Let me be your agent inside Taiben.”

“Sorcerers are dangerous quarry,” said Dar. “Your offer’s gallant.”

“And sincere.” Sevren smiled. “Even if it’s from a washavoki.”

“And I accept it.”

“I think Zna-yat’s right about visiting the palace,” said Sevren. “It’s too perilous, especially if Kol’s Othar’s man.”

“I’m still going. It seems worth the risk to talk privately with Girta.”

“And what if Othar’s waiting for you?”

Dar had to admit it was a possibility.
Othar has good reason to seek revenge.
Nevertheless, Dar suspected that the mage—if he was indeed alive—would be involved in more grandiose schemes than mere vengeance.
If that’s true, he won’t reveal himself by attacking me. At least, not yet.
“I think I’m safe awhile. It’s your job to warn me if I’m not.”

“How will I do that?”

“I’m supposed to meet Girta at noon. Find me on the road to the palace if I shouldn’t.”

“You’re not giving me a lot of time.”

“I’m giving you all I have.”

Sevren made his way to the sally port in the city’s wall and knocked on its stout ironclad door. “Open up, Valamar, it’s me.”

There was the sound of a bolt sliding, and then the door swung open, revealing a short, dark tunnel. Sevren stepped inside it, and his friend closed and bolted the door. “Well,” said Valamar, “did you see her?”

“Aye.”

“And did she believe your daft story?”

“She wants more proof.”

“And how in Karm’s name will you get that? Supposing you’re right; the moment you get near that man, he’ll take your spirit.”

“That beggar knew something was going on. I bet others do, too. This town ignores its poor, but I suspect they’ve been hard hit. Those thieves aren’t courtiers. Think of that unfortunate girl.”

“It sounds like stirring up trouble to me,” said Valamar.

“It’s been stirred already. Best look to the pot afore it boils over.”

Thirty-five

As soon as the city’s gates opened, Sevren headed for the squalid dwellings outside Taiben’s walls. He didn’t expect to be welcomed, and he wasn’t. His sword and official standing marked him as an outsider and an enemy. Though his inquiries received hostile evasions, Sevren noted a disquiet that wasn’t provoked by his presence. He glimpsed fear in people’s eyes, and many of the shanties appeared recently abandoned.

After numerous fruitless encounters, Sevren knocked on yet another door. It was unbarred and swung open with the blow from his fist. Sevren peeked inside, expecting to find an empty room. Instead, he spied a worn-looking woman, bundled in rags, shivering in the dark interior. “Mother, are you all right?” he asked.

“Nothin’ the Dark Path won’t fix.”

“You want for a fire. ’Tis a cold morn. Can I help start one?”

“I want fer a son, but mine’s been took. Can ye get me ’nother?”

“Nay, but…”

“Then fire won’t help. It’s all Tug’s fault. Nuggle’s, too.”

Sevren decided to play the fool. “Did they take your son?”

“Robbed the dead, they did. Stirred up somethin’ best let be.”

“What did they stir up?”

The old woman glanced about fearfully. “Don’t know. If ye see it, ye’re took.”

“See what?”

“Nuggle brought it here. Took my Thom, it did.”

“He brought it from the corpse pit?”

“Aye.”

“Is it still here?”

“Nay. ’Tis gone. They say to town.”

“Is Nuggle here?”

“Dead. So’s my Thom. Ye don’t last long, once ye’re took.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’ll be back.”

“Why? There’s no point.”

Sevren went to pull some wood from an abandoned shack so he could make a fire for the woman. He realized the futility of his effort, but he did it anyway. When he had a small blaze going, with some extra wood to feed it, he thanked the woman again before departing. She said nothing, and seemed no happier than when he had found her.

Sevren headed back to town, reviewing what he had learned. The sorcerer had come from the corpse pit, so it had to be Othar. He had stayed awhile in the shantytown, seizing spirits, before moving to Taiben. Sevren realized that most would dismiss the old woman’s talk as madness.
I still lack proof.
He wondered if any was obtainable. The nature of Othar’s power seemed to eliminate eyewitnesses. Sevren briefly imagined his fate if he had encountered the mage inside one of the shacks. The thought made him shiver.

Sevren wondered where Othar had gone. The palace was a possibility, but its gates were always guarded. That would prevent Othar from coming and going without notice. It seemed more likely that the mage was staying outside the royal walls. It occurred to Sevren that the sorcerer wouldn’t seize the spirit of whoever sheltered him, for that would quickly kill his host. That meant Othar was someone’s guest. Sevren speculated on why anyone would shelter the mage. Fear was a likely reason, but Sevren suspected Othar provided inducements as well. With loot from his thieves and the power to eliminate a man’s enemies, he had plenty of those.

Sevren reasoned that Othar was most likely staying with someone rich and powerful.
But who?
Sevren thought of a man who might provide a clue and headed for the municipal barracks. The chief of the municipal guard was a genial man who knew all the wealthy men who funded the force. He was also a gossip and fond of a morning ale. Sevren sought him out and found him in the guards’ common room.

“Well met, Furtag,” said Sevren. “Just the man I want to see. I have woman trouble. Mayhap you can help me.”

Furtag chuckled. “There’s no cure for that kind o’ trouble short o’ gelding.”

“I hope you know a gentler physic. Let me stand you for a mug as we talk it over.”

Furtag readily agreed and went with Sevren to a nearby tavern. There, Sevren told him that he was seeing a wench with a son she wished to become a servant. “She wants him a master with rising fortunes,” said Sevren. He flashed a bawdy smile. “She says she’ll please me if I please her.”

“Well, Balten’s star is surely rising. He became master o’ the Merchants’ Guild after Maltus jumped from the wall.” Then Furtag lowered his voice. “But tell the lad to keep away.”

“Why?”

“Balten goes through help too quick.”

“They leave because he’s harsh?”

Furtag spoke in a whisper. “They die.” Then he added, “Ye didn’t hear that from me.” Sevren shot him a puzzled look, and Furtag responded with a shrug. “Things happen, but they happen often.” Then he spoke in a normal voice. “Tumbar’s a good master, and I heard he’s looking for some help. He dwells on the Street o’ Woodshapers.”

Sevren grinned. “Thank you, Furtag. I’m sure my wench will be well pleased.”

Furtag returned his grin. “Then I hope she pleases well.”

Zna-yat pleaded to accompany Dar to the palace gates. Initially, she resisted the idea, thinking it would make a better impression if she came without an escort. But after she relented, Dar was glad she did. The idea of the mage lurking somewhere terrified her, and she was certain Zna-yat smelled her fear as they walked the winding streets. Dar kept a sharp eye out for Sevren, but he didn’t show.

The palace gates were shut and guarded when Dar arrived. After Zna-yat left, she spoke to one of the Queen’s Men. “I have a private audience with Queen Girta. Take me to her.”

“I’ve had no word of this,” replied the man.

“That’s because it’s a privy meeting. Your queen will confirm this.”

The man looked dubious, but escorted Dar through the gates and into the palace. There, he spoke to Lokung, who seemed equally surprised. The steward led Dar to a closed doorway and bade her wait while he entered it alone. He returned shortly. “Our Majesty will see you.”

Dar entered a room that featured a large window overlooking the courtyard. She bowed. “Queen Girta, thank you for seeing me. I’m glad for this meeting. We have much in common.”

“We do?”

“Mothers prize peace, while men often favor war.”

“First you became an orc. Are you now a mother also?”

“The urkzimmuthi consider all women mothers,” said Dar.

“A quaint idea.”

“Quaint or not, it’s true. And because mothers bring forth life, they’re loath to take it.”

“That’s very high-sounding, but why are you here?”

“I fear for your safety.”

“I feel safe enough,” said Girta.

“Feeling safe can be safety’s opposite. An unwary victim is easily slain.”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re here to warn me of General Kol. He told me you would.”

“I know he’s your friend, but if you value peace, why take advice from a general? War’s his profession. And why let him mold your son into the late king’s image?”

Girta’s face reddened. “Leave the prince out of this!”

“I don’t wish to upset you, but when I saw your son, I was struck by his sword and military attire. It also seemed the General was overclose with him.”

“The boy’s lost his father.”

“A bloodthirsty father who taunted me by saying ‘Women lack the stomach for war.’ Does General Kol think differently?”

“He does. The General wants only to protect me and my son.”

“Once, he promised me protection.”

“And you betrayed him for an orc.”

Sensing the futility of her argument, Dar chose another tack. “Before Kol arrived, did you have other confidants? Men and women whose judgment you trusted?”

“I did.”

“What happened to them?”

“It’s been a hard winter,” replied Queen Girta. “There have been many tragedies.”

“All random—or so it
seems
.”

Girta regarded Dar suspiciously. “What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t all those deaths have one thing in common? Weren’t all who died special friends to you?”

“No,” replied Girta. “General Zam and I weren’t close, and Lord Targ was no friend.”

“Did they oppose Kol?”

“Surely you can’t believe that…”

“I believe there’s a hidden hand at work. I don’t have…” The door opened, halting Dar in midsentence.

Girta smiled. “General Kol, you should listen to this.”

Dar’s face flushed. “You said we’d talk privately.”

“This is just coincidence,” replied Girta. “I kept this meeting to myself, not knowing its purpose. Yet now that I do, I’m glad for this happenstance. The General is entitled to defend himself.” She turned to Kol. “Dar claims you inspire accidents and suicides.”

Kol grinned. “She does? I must be quite a fellow—soldier by day and mage by night.”

“Well,” Girta said to Dar. “Continue.”

“There’s no point,” replied Dar. “You won’t believe me, so I won’t risk my life.”

Kol’s grin broadened. “Risk your life? Does Your Majesty believe I’ll run you through? My skin’s thicker than you think. It’s true we’re not fond, but I won’t harm you.”

Dar sighed dramatically. “I’m leaving, though I do so reluctantly. Girta, one day you’ll see this meeting as a lost chance. I fear it’ll be a bitter insight.”