[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter Page 17

  After a long while, Dar drifted off to uneasy dreams. She couldn’t remember them the following morning, but they heightened her need to see Kovok-mah. When snow covered the pastures, Kovok-mah would winter with his muthuri. Dar craved one more chance to have him to herself. Spurred by that thought, Dar went to tell Zor-yat that she would be visiting the Mah clan again. Zor-yat looked surprised. “Nir said nothing of this.”

  “She doesn’t know,” said Dar. “I’m going alone.”

  “You know way?”

  “Hai, Muthuri.”

  Zor-yat appeared intrigued. “You’re going to see some son, aren’t you?”

  Dar didn’t reply.

  “Come, Dargu. It’s not my brother’s company you seek. Nor Kath-mah’s.”

  “It’s their son’s,” replied Dar in a low voice. “We care for each other.”

  Zor-yat smiled. “Of course! You traveled together.” She made a show of sniffing the air. “My nose has been unwise. Most unwise!” Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you had kept this secret?”

  Dar felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. “Ever since I arrived.”

  “I see,” said Zor-yat, annoyed that she hadn’t noticed before. Yet, on reflection, she realized why she had ignored the signs; it never occurred to her that a son could have feelings for a washavoki.

  “Muthuri, I wish to be blessed.”

  “Blessed! This is serious! Have either of you spoken to Kath-mah?”

  “Not yet.”

  Zor-yat’s expression grew thoughtful. “I think that was wise. Kath-mah can be difficult. It’s best I talk to her first, muthuri to muthuri.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. You’re my daughter, and Kovok-mah is fine choice.”

  Dar’s face lit up. “I can’t wait to tell Kovok!”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t see him until I speak with his muthuri. Then he can visit you here. That’s more proper.”

  Dar’s excitement dampened, and it showed. Zor-yat hugged her. “Waiting is hard when feelings are strong.”

  “Hai, Muthuri.”

  “Then I’ll leave today to speak to Kath-mah. If things go well, your velazul will be here soon.”

  Two evenings later, Zor-yat arrived in the hall where Kath-mah lived. Everyone was surprised to see her, for she rarely visited. As Zor-yat shook the sleet from her cloak, Kath-mah’s sister greeted her. “Welcome, sister’s husband’s sister. Your errand must be urgent to travel in such weather.”

  Zor-yat smiled ruefully. “What we muthuris do for our children! I’m nearly frozen.” She bowed her head to Kath-mah. “Brother’s wife, it’s good to see you.” After Kath-mah returned her greeting, Zor-yat asked, “Where’s your son?”

  Kath-mah wrinkled her nose. “Still with his goats.”

  Zor-yat was pleased to hear this, but she said, “How unfortunate, since my errand concerns him.”

  “How?” asked Kath-mah.

  Zor-yat regarded her brother. “Will you leave us, Javak? This is muthuri talk.”

  Kath-mah escorted her visitor into her chamber, where the two huddled together. “What is this matter, Zor-yat?”

  “After my daughter visited here, she told me of her interest in your son. She’s quite serious about him.”

  Kath-mah beamed. “Nir-yat and my Kovok? It would be perfect match!”

  “Not Nir-yat. Dargu-yat.”

  Kath-mah’s expression darkened. “Your washavoki daughter?”

  “She’s not washavoki. She’s been reborn.”

  “Her spirit has been reborn,” retorted Kath-mah, “but not her body. You can’t breed sheep and goats.”

  “Nevertheless, your son’s drawn to her. He’s been her velazul for several moons.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Dargu told me. She visits him at his goat hut.”

  “And she wants my blessing?”

  “Dargu-yat will never bear daughters nor have her own hanmuthi, but her sisters will take care of her. If you give your blessing, Kovok-mah will have pleasant life.”

  “Pleasant? Ha! Ask your brother how it is to have no daughters! My nieces are above me. Someday their daughters will be also.”

  “So what should I tell Dargu?” asked Zor-yat.

  “Tell her that Kovok is forbidden to see her.”

  “I’m not surprised by your answer, but I fear its consequences.”

  “What consequences?”

  “Those reborn have special gifts. Like Velasa-pah, Dargu-yat has magic powers. How else could one so ugly attract your son? If you tear him from her, she will break his chest.”

  “So what am I to do?”

  “Send your son to Taiben, and Dargu will forget him. By his return, she’ll have different velazul.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She’s my daughter. I understand her ways.”

  Kath-mah frowned. “You’ve brought ill tidings. All my choices are hard ones.”

  “This can end well,” said Zor-yat. “Think on what I’ve said. If you send Kovok-mah to Taiben, let us know so Dargu can begin to forget him.”

  Dar’s mood swung between optimism and despair during Zor-yat’s absence. She hadn’t felt so powerless since being branded and sent to the regiment. Her fate seemed completely out of her control; all she could do was wait for Kath-mah’s decision.

  At times, Dar was almost giddy with the prospect of being blessed. Other times, she tried to steel herself for the worst and imagine how she would cope without Kovok-mah. She felt that unique circumstances had brought them together and the love that resulted could never be duplicated. Dar’s first samuth seemed proof. If Kath-mah doesn’t bless us, I’ll spend my life alone. Dar had heard of women who dedicated their lives to Karm, living apart to pray and toil until they walked the Dark Path. Once, Dar had envied such a life, but it seemed dreary after Kovok-mah had awakened her need for intimacy. She didn’t want to grow old without love.

  The fourth day after Zor-yat’s departure, Dar was so anxious that Gar-yat sent her from the kitchen rather than have her ruin another dish. Dar spent the afternoon outside the gate, watching the road for her muthuri. It was nearly dark when Dar spied Zor-yat walking alone, her cloak whipped by the wind. Dar raced down the zigzagged roadway and met her at the base of the mountain. “What news, Muthuri?”

  “It’s better than I hoped, Dargu.”

  “Will she bless me?”

  “Not yet,” replied Zor-yat. “But she’ll allow Kovok-mah to see you. Don’t be discouraged. This is hopeful.”

  “But I desire more than hope.”

  “My news surprised Kath-mah, and she needs time to think. When she does, I expect she’ll see wisdom in this match. Look for Kovok-mah. He should visit soon.”

  Dar hugged Zor-yat. “Shashav, Muthuri.”

  Zor-yat continued up the hill, glad that her hood and the darkness hid her face. Her deed felt unnatural, and she worried her expression might betray her. Meaningless words leave foul taste. Yet Zor-yat believed that if her ploy worked, Muth la would forgive her.

  Twenty-seven

  Zor-yat’s news briefly raised Dar’s spirits, but only a visit from Kovok-mah could provide real assurance. Dar waited for one ever more anxiously. Her mood soon infected the entire hanmuthi, so all her sisters began to watch the road for travelers. Five days after Zor-yat’s return, Nir-yat appeared in the kitchen. Dar was elated until she saw Nir-yat’s subdued expression. “Dargu, Javak-yat is here with news.”

  Dar felt a cold sensation in her stomach. “What is it?”

  “It’s best you hear from him.”

  Dar hurried to the hanmuthi. She found Javak-yat seated with his sister and drinking hot herb water. Expecting the worst, Dar interrupted their conversation. “Uncle, where’s Kovok-mah?”

  Javak-yat appeared surprised by Dar’s urgency. “He’s gone to Taiben.”

  “Taiben?”

  “Hai. All clans must send sons to kill for washavoki king. Our queen…
”

  “This is my fault,” said Dar. “You sent him away because of me.” She burst out sobbing.

  Javak-yat stared at Dar in astonishment. “Sister, why is your new daughter making such strange noises?”

  “I think she’s sick,” replied Zor-yat, regarding Dar sternly. “Dargu, go rest in your chamber.”

  Javak-yat watched Dar hurry away, then gave his sister a suspicious look. “Why did you visit Kath-mah?”

  “Muthuri business,” said Zor-yat. “If Kath-mah didn’t tell you, I won’t either.”

  Nir-yat was waiting in the chamber when Dar rushed in and collapsed on her bed. Though as astonished as her uncle by Dar’s tears, she sensed their nature and cause. “I’m sorry, Dargu.”

  By force of will, Dar stifled her sobs, but nothing could stifle her despair. “Kath-mah doesn’t understand,” she said.

  “Understand what?”

  “She has sent Kovok to his death.”

  “No muthuri would do that.”

  “No muthuri has seen what I have. Washavoki king cares not how many sons are slaughtered.”

  “Our queen would never allow…”

  “She doesn’t understand either.” Dar turned her face to the wall.

  After a while, Dar heard Nir-yat leave the room. Dar lay on her bed, consumed by misery. Before, she had worried that Kovok-mah would be forbidden to see her. Javak-yat’s news made her fear that Kovok-mah would die. His death seemed likely—even inevitable—and Dar felt responsible. He barely escaped the first time, she thought, recalling the final battle’s carnage. In her mind’s eye, each slain orc became Kovok-mah.

  Dar was still on her bed, when she heard Zor-yat’s voice. “Dargu, this is not your fault. All clans must send sons to Taiben.”

  Dar turned to face her muthuri. “Kovok just returned from battle. Why must he kill again?”

  “Only unblessed sons are called. After this summer, few remain.”

  “He would have been safe if Kath-mah had blessed us.”

  “Blessings take time,” said Zor-yat. “She’ll do it when he returns.”

  “Did your brother say that?”

  “Hai, but you’re not supposed to know. Don’t speak to him of it.”

  “So, I’m not reason why Kovok’s gone.”

  “Of course not. Our queen is reason. It’s her command. Be patient. You’ll be blessed.”

  “Thwa, I won’t,” said Dar, her voice dull. “I know it in my chest.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Kovok won’t return.”

  “Have you had vision?” ask Zor-yat, sounding concerned.

  “Thwa, but I’ve seen war.”

  “Queen’s command has brought sorrow to many mothers, not just you.”

  Dar was silent, but her eyes welled with tears. Zor-yat, having lived among washavokis, understood what they signified. She searched Dar’s face for other hints of what she was thinking. Meanwhile, Dar was engaged in an inner struggle and oblivious to the scrutiny. She might obtain her heart’s desire, but only if she took a deadly risk.

  Zor-yat patiently waited. She had said all that she could. Only time would tell if her words had the desired effect. After a while, she detected the scent of fear. It gradually grew stronger until it filled the room. Then Dar spoke. “Muth-yat was right.”

  Zor-yat feigned puzzlement. “Right about what?”

  “I must go to Taiben.”

  “Taiben? Whatever for?”

  “To see our queen and discover why she commands sons to kill. If I succeed, I may save Kovok-mah.”

  “How will you do this?”

  “I’m not sure, but my chest tells me I must try.”

  After Dar spoke with Zor-yat, she was sent to see Muth-yat. The matriarch was pleased by Dar’s decision. “I’m certain Muth la has guided you,” she said. “Zor-yat must be proud. You are worthy daughter.”

  Dar acknowledged the praise with a bow. Then Muth-yat surprised her by having washavoki clothes brought in. “You’ll need these for your journey.” It was obvious that the shabby cloak and shift had been carefully selected, for they were typical of the clothing worn by women in the regiment. Dar thought they were too clean, but otherwise perfect.

  “Dargu,” said Muth-yat. “I have no idea what you’ll find and can give you little advice or help. I’ll tell sons of our clan to aid you, but rely on your own wisdom. When in doubt, follow your chest.”

  Dar thanked the matriarch and an awkward silence followed until Muth-yat told Dar to prepare for her journey. Dar left carrying the bundle of clothes and wondering if she had been manipulated. Nevertheless, she was resolved to go to Taiben. Only there could she expose King Kregant’s treachery, and only there would she be with Kovok-mah.

  Dar didn’t directly return to Zor-yat’s hanmuthi. Instead she went outside to soil her washavoki clothing. The terraced fields looked as desolate as the mountains beyond. Dar shivered, more at the prospect of the days ahead than from the cold. Tossing the clothes on the ground, she began to step on them.

  Zna-yat approached. “I hear we’re going to Taiben.”

  Dar stopped grinding her shift into the dirt. “Our clan sent you to kill?”

  “Thwa. Have you forgotten that you bit my neck?”

  “You need not come.”

  “If you think that, you’re mistaken. My life is tied to yours.”

  “I won’t need your protection. Kovok-mah will be there.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Never before have sons been called to Taiben this time of year,” replied Zna-yat. “Washavokis like to kill when it’s warm. Something strange is happening.”

  “What?”

  “I have no idea, but I think you shouldn’t go.”

  “I have to, Zna-yat. Only I can do what must be done.”

  “Our muthuri and her sister are behind this, aren’t they?”

  “Hai. Do you question their wisdom?”

  “They are wise,” said Zna-yat. “Yet, what is best for clan may not be best for you.”

  “I’m frightened, but I’ve made up my mind. Don’t frighten me more.”

  Zna-yat bowed his head and said no more, though Dar sensed he wished to. He left soon afterward, and Dar finished soiling her garments alone.

  Zna-yat had to obtain armor and a reed shelter, and this delayed Dar’s departure a day. She imagined that the journey to Taiben would be a long one and was surprised to learn they would reach King Kregant’s capital in two days if the weather held. It was frigid and the sky threatened snow when they set out in the early morning. Zna-yat walked beside Dar, swathed in iron, his breath whitening his helmet as it froze. Seven other orcs accompanied him as part of the clan’s quota for the army. Good-byes had been said inside the warm hall, but Nir-yat and Thir-yat waved at Dar from a window. Dar waved back for as long as she could see them.

  The road was called the New Road, though it had been built in King Kregant’s grandfather’s time. Constructed to encourage trade, the route cut through a steep ridge that had formerly kept the orcs isolated. The road was less traveled than in earlier days, but it remained in good shape. A messenger on horseback could travel between Taiben and the Yat clan hall in a single day, although it had been years since one had done so. During the current king’s reign, mainly orc soldiers used the road. Far more went to Taiben than returned.

  Owing to the cold, Dar still wore orcish clothing. Her kefs and neva were made of thick, warm wool, as was her hooded cloak. Dar’s boots had belonged to an orc child and had bulbous toes to accommodate claws. Thus out-fitted, Dar was comfortable as she solemnly marched with her kin. There was no banter, for everyone’s thoughts dwelled on battle. While only Dar and Zna-yat had witnessed war, the others had heard grim tales.

  The party camped for the night inside the passage cut into the ridge. Although it was the highest point on the road, its walls offered shelter from the wind. Within its confines, Dar slept b
undled in her cloak. As evening approached on the following day, they spied Taiben from a hilltop and stopped to gaze at the city. It crowned the only high place on the plain below. The city’s walls seemed to squeeze its buildings into a confusing jumble. The royal palace dominated the cityscape—a fortress within a fortress—with high walls that sprouted towers.

  Zna-yat pointed to the orc garrison. It lay outside the city, enclosed by a separate wall that Dar had expected to be circular. It was not. “Where is Embrace of Muth la?” she asked.

  “Each barracks is one,” replied Zna-yat.

  Dar noted that almost all the buildings within the garrison’s walls were circular. There were many dozens, packed close together in long rows. “And washavoki soldiers move among them?”

  “Hai, but they dwell in Taiben. Only washavoki mothers live in camp.”

  Trapped inside, Dar thought. She studied the gated garrison. Human soldiers paced atop its walls. Even from a distance, it resembled a prison.

  Twenty-eight

  Dar arrived at the garrison on Zna-yat’s back, hidden in his rolled-up shelter. Unable to see, she relied on other senses to tell her what was happening. Dar assumed they were at the gate when Zna-yat halted and she heard a human voice. “What clan you?” it asked in abominable Orcish.

  “Yat,” replied Zna-yat.

  “More come?” asked the voice.

  “Thwa,” replied Zna-yat.

  “Follow this one. It show house,” said the voice before switching to human speech. “Murdant, take the piss eyes to barracks seventeen. Have women bring them supper.”

  “Aye, sir,” said a second voice.

  Dar heard hinges creak; then Zna-yat began to move again. He walked awhile before lifting the shelter from his shoulders. Dar remained within her hiding place while the orcs settled in. Then she heard Zna-yat’s voice boom out. “Gather round! I have brought someone with me.” The shelter was unrolled. Dar sat up, still dressed in her orcish clothes, and gazed about the room. Over two dozen astonished orcs stared at her. Dar rose to greet them and assert her authority. “I am Dargu-yat,” she said in Orcish, “reborn urkzimmuthi by ancient magic. My muthuri is Zor-yat, sister of queen.”