[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter (17 page)

When the room cleared, Muth-goth sat upon her stool and invited Dar to sit at her feet. “Muth la speaks to urkzimmuthi mothers,” said Muth-goth, “but only to very few. Is it common for washavoki mothers to receive visions?”

“Thwa,” said Dar. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Some say visions are gifts. Others claim they are burdens. Whatever they are, they’re rare,” said Muth-goth. “I once had visions. Speak to me of yours.”

Dar recounted everything, and Muth-goth listened without comment until Dar had finished speaking. By then, her expression was troubled. “So you encountered Velasa-pah. This is news, indeed.”

“Who is he, Mother? Those in Pah clan would say little, even after I returned from darkness.”

“They keep his tale deep in their chests, for his fate and theirs are intermingled. Yours, too, I think.”

“How?”

Muth-goth merely smiled. “So, Dargu, why do you think Muth la has given you visions?”

Despite having her own question evaded, Dar answered the matriarch’s. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I understand some visions, but most make no sense to me.”

“Ones that make no sense are most important,” said Muth-goth. “They show things that have yet to happen.”

“How can they guide me if I don’t understand them?”

“Did your vision of burning tell you what to do when you saw Zna-yat bound to tree?”

“Thwa,” replied Dar. “I followed my chest.”

“That’s Muth la’s way,” said Muth-goth. “She shows where path will fork, but you must choose which course to take.”

“Then what’s point of visions? What good are they?”

Muth-goth hissed. “Do you think I know Muth la’s mind? I’m old and have seen much, but I’m child next to World’s Mother. All I know is this—Muth la sends visions to suit her purposes, not yours.”

Dar sighed. “I suspected as much.”

“Yet good will come from them if you act wisely.”

Dar bowed her head. “Hai, Mother.” Still, she couldn’t help wondering,
Good for whom?

The following day, Dar and her companions departed, guided by the sapaha that Muth-goth had provided. As her journey’s end grew closer, Dar worried about her reception at Kovok-mah’s hall.
What muthuri would want a washavoki for her son?
When Dar imagined how perverse her passion would seem, she felt her situation was hopeless. Dar brooded over the matter until it occurred to her that Kovok-mah’s muthuri was Zna-yat’s aunt.
Perhaps he can tell me what to expect.
When they stopped to rest, Dar pulled Zna-yat aside for a private conversation. “Zna-yat, I need guidance.”

“You are mother. It’s not my place to advise you.”

“Yet you must. You have knowledge I need.”

Zna-yat bowed. “How can I help you?”

“You know that Kovok-mah fills my chest. When I enter hall of his muthuri, what will happen?”

“Dargu, don’t enter that hall.”

“Why?”

“Dargu, you’re wise. You know why.”

“Kovok-mah’s muthuri will disapprove.”

“She’ll know his feelings, but she won’t understand them,” said Zna-yat. “I think she’ll be angry.”

Dar let out a wrenching sigh. “Then there’s no hope for me. No place for me either.”

“You’ve bitten my neck, Dargu. There’ll always be place for you in my muthuri’s hall.”

It took only a moment for Dar to realize that living in Zna-yat’s hall was her only option, and she was grateful for the offer. Before, she had assumed that she would stay with Kovok-mah. Yet his muthuri had no reason to take her in, and she would quickly discover one to turn her away. Dar’s future seemed set, and it didn’t look promising.

Toward late afternoon, the travelers entered another empty valley. Dar spotted a suitable campsite and called an early halt to the day’s march. After eating, she led Kovok-mah away. They didn’t return until morning.

Zna-yat took Dar aside soon after her arrival. “Dargu,” he whispered. “You are not blessed.”

“We acted properly,” said Dar. “We gave each other love, nothing more.” Yet Dar wished they hadn’t acted properly. She would have gladly consummated her love if Kovok-mah had been willing, but honor restrained him. Thus, despite a night of passion, she felt denied. By the concern in Zna-yat’s face, Dar sensed that he surmised her true desire. “I won’t be foolish,” she added.

“Mothers who thrimuk before they are blessed become thwada for rest of life,” said Zna-yat.

“I know,” said Dar. Still, she couldn’t help thinking that, once Kovok-mah departed, she might as well be untouchable.

“My chest is heavy for you,” said Zna-yat. “Joy too easily becomes sorrow. Kovok-mah feared this in Tarathank. He dreaded end of this journey.”

“If he knew it would end this way, why did he ever give me love?”

“You came to him and requested what his chest desired most,” replied Zna-yat. “He thought it was Muth la’s doing.”

Dar sighed, thinking how Muth la had her own purposes. “He was probably right.”

Zna-yat pondered Dar’s dilemma a while before he spoke again. “Kovok-mah’s muthuri must not learn about you too soon.”

“Why?” asked Dar. “What difference will it make?”

“It will allow you to seek counsel,” said Zna-yat. “Yat clan is queen clan, and its mothers are subtle thinkers. They may see path for you.”

“It’s not Kovok-mah’s nature to speak words without meaning. How can he hide his love?”

“I’ll advise him to avoid speaking of you,” replied Zna-yat, “and to dwell outside his muthuri’s hall. If he spends summer among his goats, she may not suspect his feelings.”

Once again, Dar saw how Zna-yat was different from the others. He grasped the uses of deception. In contrast, the essence of Kovok-mah was honesty, and Dar couldn’t envision him hiding his emotions. Even if he could, she couldn’t imagine how she would ever become acceptable to Kovok-mah’s muthuri.
I’m washavoki. Kovok-mah’s silence won’t alter that.
Still, it seemed her only hope. “I’ll tell him to follow your plan,” Dar said, “though I doubt it will change anything.”

“Perhaps it won’t, Dargu,” said Zna-yat. “Yet it will gain you time, and Kovok-mah may see you as long as his muthuri doesn’t forbid it.”

“And if she does forbid it?”

“You will be apart forever.”

Dar gathered the orcs together, and Zna-yat laid out his plan in full. It was a simple one: They would split up upon reaching familiar territory. Zna-yat and Dar would proceed to the Yat clan hall. Kovok-mah would journey with the others and arrive home last. All promised to mention Dar as seldom as possible and never to call her mother or refer to her by name. In that way, Zna-yat hoped that Kovok-mah’s muthuri wouldn’t connect Dar to the scent of love lingering about her son.

Dar endorsed Zna-yat’s scheme, although she was ambivalent about it. On one hand, it offered hope—however slender—of rejoining Kovok-mah. On the other hand, it hastened the day of their separation.

As the travelers trekked eastward, the terrain became more hospitable. Trees softened the mountainsides and the trail became easy. It was both the most pleasant time in Dar’s life and the most melancholy, for her present contentment made the future seem all the more bleak. She set a leisurely pace and would have stretched out the journey longer if the orcs—with the exception of Kovok-mah—had not been eager to return home.

After ten days of travel, they reached known territory and their sapaha headed home. The travelers followed a path that increasingly showed signs of use and encountered a broad stream spanned by a small stone footbridge. On the other side, the path diverged. Kovok-mah approached Dar. “This stream flows into river crossed by Flis Muthi.”

“One washavokis call Turgen?”

“Hai,” replied Kovok-mah. He paused, reluctant to continue. “It is here we must part.”

“Not yet,” said Dar. “My chest is breaking.”

“Your chest is big, Dargu. It’s too strong to break.”

“I wish it would,” said Dar. She sighed. “Yet it won’t. Let us speak awhile before you go.”

“I’ll speak as long as you want.”

“Then you’ll have to speak forever,” said Dar. “Come.” She took Kovok-mah’s hand, and led him down the stream’s sandy bank. There, Dar kicked off her sandals to wade into the water. It flowed clear and cool around her legs. Kovok-mah joined her. Dar smiled. “Remember when you made me bathe?”

“You were frightened,” said Kovok-mah. “Yet even then, you were fierce.”

“You said Weasel was good name for me.”

“It still is.”

“You also said I smelled.”

Kovok-mah enfolded Dar within his arms and breathed deeply. “I lacked wisdom then. Your scent is beautiful.”

As Kovok-mah held Dar, she felt him trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, and the effort to suppress her sobs made her tremble also. “Dargu,” whispered Kovok-mah. “Muth la doesn’t speak to sons, but I know this—she brought us together and she’ll do so again.”

Dar wished she was as equally certain, but none of her visions foretold such happiness. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bear to disagree. “Hai,” she said. “I’ll feel your arms again. But not soon enough. You should go now.”

Kovok-mah released Dar. She stood still and stared into the distance, unable to watch him go. Yet she listened for each footstep as he walked away. Dar remained in the river until her feet were numb. All the while, she wished it hadn’t mattered that she and Kovok-mah weren’t blessed.
If he were washavoki, this would have ended differently. We’d have run off together.
Yet Dar knew Kovok-mah would never dishonor her, not even to make her happy.

Nineteen

When Dar climbed up the bank, Zna-yat was waiting for her. He held out Dar’s old washavoki clothing. Dar understood his hint. “Why shouldn’t I dress as mother?”

“News travels quickly among urkzimmuthi. Kath-mah not only has wise nose, she is wise in other ways.”

“Kath-mah?” said Dar. “Do you mean Kovok-mah’s muthuri?”

“Hai. When she smells his atur, she will seek to learn what mothers he has been with.”

“Won’t she just ask?”

“That’s not done,” replied Zna-yat. “She’ll wait for him to speak of his velazul. Meanwhile, she’ll try to guess.”

“I see,” said Dar. “I’m glad you understand Kath-mah so well.” She eyed her old garments with distaste. “I’ll be less glad to wear those again.”

After Dar changed, she followed Zna-yat on a path that headed downstream. The stream soon joined a river and they passed several empty fishing camps. They walked until sunset, then camped in one. Though Zna-yat offered to hold Dar, he looked relieved when she chose to sleep on the ground.

The following day, Dar and Zna-yat encountered an orc settlement. They stopped for directions and Zna-yat explained that they were survivors of a battle. “This washavoki saved my life,” he said, pointing to Dar. “Now it flees with me.”

The orcs looked at Dar curiously. “It looks too small to save you.”

“It’s small, but cruel,” replied Zna-yat.

“Don’t you fear it?” asked one of the orcs.

“Thwa, it has grown peaceful.”

“Are you sure?” asked another orc, eyeing Dar’s dagger.

Zna-yat made a gesture that was the equivalent of a shrug. “Well, peaceful for washavoki.”

Throughout the exchange, Dar pretended she couldn’t understand Orcish. She didn’t speak until the settlement was out of sight. Then she hissed. “So I’m cruel but peaceful? I thought urkzimmuthi did not speak words without meaning.”

“Your power must be hidden,” replied Zna-yat, “so I said little. But what I said made sense.”

“I’ve killed, so I guess I’m cruel,” said Dar, “but I don’t feel peaceful.”

Dar and Zna-yat traveled openly, but unobtrusively, for five days. When they approached the valley of the Yat clan, Dar donned her urkzimmuthi clothing. “I am mother, and that’s how I’ll enter your hall.”

Zna-yat bowed. “It could not be otherwise.”

The Yat clan’s valley twisted, so the clan hall was long hidden. At first, Dar saw only meadows containing sheep, goats, and small huts where shepherds dwelled in the summer. Soon, Zna-yat began to encounter kinfolk upon the road. Each time, he stopped to tell his story. All were amazed that he had returned alive, for news of the deadly battle had preceded him. They were equally amazed by Dar and by the way Zna-yat introduced her. He told everyone that she was a mother who had saved his life and guided him through many dangers. The encounters grew ever more frequent, so the final part of Dar’s journey was drawn out, and she realized that news of her arrival would reach the hall long before she did.

At last, Dar rounded a bend and beheld a small mountain at the valley’s end. Terraces covered its sides like green shingles, and the Yat clan hall crowned its top. Even from a distance, it looked large and impressive. It reminded Dar of Tarathank, not the homey dwellings of Muth-pah and Muth-goth. “
That’s
your hall?” she said in an awed voice.

“Hai. Queen lived there,” said Zna-yat. “One day, she will again.”

Dar didn’t know the Orcish word for “palace,” but the hall seemed one to her. That impression increased as she and Zna-yat neared it. Upon reaching the mountain, the road zigzagged among the terraced fields until it reached the summit, which was entirely covered by the great stone building. It seemed to have grown there, with vaulted roofs that mimicked the curves of weathered rock. Like Tarathank, it lacked military structures. It was a home, albeit one the size of a small town, not a fortification. Dar was both puzzled and fascinated by the way its arched windows reflected the light. “Why do windows sparkle?” she asked.