[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter (20 page)

“It was hard journey,” replied Dar. “Perhaps his strangeness is to be expected.”

“It made Dargu strange,” said Nir-yat, flashing Dar an unsettling look.

Kathog-mah hissed. “But Dargu is washavoki, and all washavokis are strange.”

“Well, I would not want to live with smelly goats,” said Thir-yat.

“Kovok-mah claims he likes their scent,” said Kathog-mah.

For some reason Dar didn’t understand, the remark made Nir-yat hiss with laughter.

The following afternoon, Dar sought out Zna-yat. He was cultivating weeds when she arrived. When he saw her, he set aside his hoe and bowed. “Tava, Dargu. I’m surprised to see you.”

“Do you know Kovok-mah has returned?”

“Hai. Kathog-mah told me.”

“He’s following our plan,” said Dar. “He’s not living in his muthuri’s hall.”

“So I heard.”

“Zna-yat, I want to see him.”

“Please pardon me, Dargu,” said Zna-yat. “It’s not my place to speak, yet my chest says I must. It’s too soon to see Kovok-mah.”

“You don’t understand! I need to see him!”

“I do understand, but I think you should wait.”

“I bit your neck!”

Zna-yat bowed low. “And I will obey you.” He sighed. “Mah clan hall is two days journey. We can leave tomorrow, if that’s your wish.”

“It is,” said Dar, already excited by the prospect. “But what should I tell Zor-yat?”

“That we visit Kovok-mah.”

Dar didn’t want to do that, but she realized lying would be unwise. Lying was something washavokis did. For a moment, she considered canceling the journey or confiding in Zor-yat about her feelings, but she rejected both options. “It will be short visit,” she said. “Besides, unblessed mothers travel often.”

“Hai. To visit relatives or find husband.”

“Zor-yat knows I traveled with Kovok-mah. She won’t think it strange that I wish to see him.”

“Perhaps,” replied Zna-yat.

“I’ll speak to her tonight,” said Dar. After briefly discussing the route with Zna-yat, Dar left, giddy with anticipation. When she returned to the kitchen, she was met by Gar-yat. “Matriarch wishes to see you. She waits in Great Chamber.”

Dar hurried to the Great Chamber and found Muth-yat seated on the stool by the throne. The matriarch rose before Dar could bow. “Dargu, come walk with me.”

Dar silently followed Muth-yat through numerous rooms and hallways until they came to a neglected courtyard. A low dome occupied its center. The dome’s stonework looked more ancient than any Dar had seen about the hall. Muth-yat pushed her way through tall weeds to the structure and swung open its weathered door. She had Dar descend a short flight of steps before closing the door and following her. Dar gazed about the room, where the only light came from a central hole in the vaulted ceiling. Its stone floor was littered with dry leaves, and a large, circular flagstone lay at its center. Muth-yat sat cross-legged among the leaves. “Sit by me,” she said.

Dar obeyed.

“This is sacred place,” said Muth-yat. “Here, Fathma returned to urkzimmuthi.”

“I haven’t heard that tale,” said Dar.

“And you won’t hear it now. I brought you here for another reason. Muth la is strong here. Do you feel her presence?”

“I think so.”

“You and I are alike. We both are mothers. We both have visions.” Muth-yat paused. “I had vision concerning you.”

Dar feared her feelings for Kovok-mah had been revealed. Nervously she asked, “Will you speak of it?”

“You appeared before me and asked, ‘Why am I not born?’ I have learned vision’s meaning by consulting ancient texts.”

“Will you tell me?”

“When your kind first appeared, we called them urkzimdi—second children. We welcomed them as younger siblings. Some dwelled with us and seemed to have spirits that were part urkzimdi and part urkzimmuthi. Velasa-pah was one. Dargu, I believe you—like him—have mixed spirit.”

“My chest feels mixed,” replied Dar.

“Do you like washavoki part?” asked Muth-yat.

“Thwa.”

“In this, you are also like Velasa-pah. That is why he was reborn.”

“I don’t understand how rebirth is possible,” said Dar.

“When you were baby, your body was different, yet you were Dargu. If you lose arm or leg, your body would be different, yet you’d remain Dargu. When you die, your spirit leaves body. Body may look unchanged, but it won’t be Dargu. It’s spirit that defines your being, not body. Velasa-pah used magic to purge washavoki from his mixed spirit so only urkzimmuthi remained. Others have also undergone that rite. I have studied this ancient magic. One can be reborn.”

Dar’s heart leaped at this unexpected news. “So I could become urkzimmuthi?”

“Hai,” replied Muth-yat, “if you underwent this magic.”

“Would I look like urkzimmuthi?”

“You would remain ugly, but you would receive Yat clan tattoo, so all would know your nature.”

“Then I desire to be reborn.”

“I must warn you. This magic is trying. Birth is never easy.”

“I’m used to hardship.”

“There is danger, also,” said Muth-yat. “Not all babies live.”

“If Muth la wanted me to die, I’d be dead already.”

“Then, if you desire to undergo this magic, I encourage you. So does Zor-yat.”

“Velasa-pah told me to follow my chest,” said Dar. “I will do so. I will be reborn.”

“Then this is what you must do,” said Muth-yat. “Tell no one. Eat nothing. Enter this place tonight as moon rises. Wear no clothing. Then it will begin.”

“Is that all?” asked Dar.

“That’s all you may know. You should leave now.”

Muth-yat remained seated as Dar left the building to tell Zna-yat that she had changed her mind about seeing Kovok-mah. Dar didn’t explain why, and he didn’t ask. Afterward, she wandered among the terraced fields in a state approaching ecstasy. The world was full of promise. Dar felt she finally understood the point of all her hardship. For the first time, Muth la’s purposes and her own seemed in perfect harmony.

Twenty-three

Dar didn’t return to the hanmuthi. When dusk came, she went back to the overgrown courtyard to wait for night and the moon to rise. It reminded her of Tarathank, for nature was reclaiming it. The flowers of luxuriant weeds perfumed the air. Dar thought she caught a whiff of her atur mingled with their fragrance.

The sky darkened. Stars appeared. Dar waited. At last, the moon rose over the horizon. Dar made her way to the dome’s doorway, removed her clothes, and descended the stairs. The room was nearly pitch black, but after her eyes adjusted, she could make out changes since her previous visit. The leaves were gone, and the circular flagstone had been moved aside to reveal an opening in the floor. It was wide enough for Dar to fall into and filled to the top with water. In the dim light, she was unable to tell whether it was a shallow basin or a deep well.

The door slammed shut and the room was plunged into near-total darkness. Dar heard a sound like a bolt siding into place. “Tava!” she called. “Who’s there?” Silence. Dar waited for someone to explain what was happening. She heard a faint sound coming from above and looked upward. A blue-black patch of sky was visible through the hole in the room’s ceiling. As Dar gazed at it, the patch disappeared. The darkness became absolute.

Dar tried to be calm, but her situation unnerved her. Although she knew rebirth would be trying, she had expected to know what she would face. The mystery of her situation was more frightening than the darkness. It was impossible not to conceive sinister explanations for what had happened.
Does anyone know I’m here, besides Muth-yat?
For all Dar knew, she had been entombed. “Thwa,” she said aloud. “This is magic, not murder.” Yet doubt remained.

Dar lay down and tried to rest, but it was impossible to get comfortable. She sat up and thought of Kovok-mah. She imagined his reaction when he learned of her transformation and indulged in pleasant fantasies. Her thoughts wandered. Dar relived her past and envisioned her future. She nodded off and dreamed. She woke and waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

Dar felt the need to relieve herself, but doing it in a sacred space seemed wrong. “I should wait,” she told herself.
For how much longer?
Already she had no idea how long she had been in darkness. After a while, her bladder ached. The need for relief became increasingly urgent. Dar began to crawl about the room on her hands and knees, stopping frequently to feel her surroundings. Eventually, she discovered a hole near the wall. It was the width of her outstretched fingers. She investigated it and decided it could serve as a toilet. Afterward, she speculated whether that was its intended function. If it was, it might mean that she would remain in the room a long time.

Later, Dar became thirsty. She groped about until she found the pool in the room’s center. She hunched down until her lips touched liquid, then drank. The tepid water had an earthy aftertaste. She drank only a little, then crawled away. She was frightened of the pool. It was invisible. Perhaps it was also deep. Dar envisioned blundering into it and drowning. “How could that possibly happen?” she asked. Her mind readily conjured up the answer.
I’ll lose my wits and stagger about in the dark.
It didn’t seem far-fetched. Dar crawled in the dark until she touched a wall. Then she pressed against it for dear life.

Time passed. Dar slept and woke, drank from the pool and used the hole. Dar grew hungry, than ravenous. For a long while—perhaps days, she had no way of telling—she thought of little else but food. Then hunger deserted her and Dar began to forget her empty body. It was already invisible.

In the perfect darkness time lost meaning. Dreams and waking thoughts became indistinguishable. Dar believed she was on the Dark Path, a spirit returning to Karm or Muth la, she couldn’t remember which. Later, she alternately shivered with cold and burned with fever. Finally, Dar collapsed and became one with the unthinking dark.

The flame was tiny, yet to Dar it seemed extremely bright. She stared at it without emotion or comprehension. It simply was. Voices spoke. They were unintelligible. Hands lifted her, so she was upright on her knees. Someone held a bowl to her lips and tilted it so sweet white liquid entered her mouth. Dar swallowed some. The rest dribbled down her chin and chest. Dar drank some more. Her head cleared slightly, though she would have fallen if the hands had let go.

The tiny flame moved, and as it did, more flames appeared. The darkness fell back further. Dar saw the room was filled with mothers. They were chanting, but Dar was too groggy to catch the words. One mother stepped forward to straddle the opening in the floor. She pulled her neva up to her waist, then squatted. A second mother drew a blade across the squatting mother’s thighs. Bloody lines appeared, looking black in the dim light. Blood flowed into the water.

Dar was lifted up. Her feet touched the bloody water. Then she was slowly lowered into it. Dar remained still and silent, watching passively as the water overflowed and spread over the stone floor. When the water reached Dar’s waist, she was eye-to-eye with the squatting mother. Her face was familiar. Then the hands let go, and Dar slipped beneath the water.

It was blood-warm. Too weak to struggle, Dar sank. The sinking seemed endless. She looked upward. Small flames danced far away. The water colored them red. Dar’s lungs began to ache. She breathed in. Water filled and dissolved her.

Dar became aware that someone was holding her. She opened her eyes and beheld Zor-yat. Torches had replaced the tiny flames, and the room was brightly lit. Mothers circled around the pair, wiping the pinkish liquid from Dar’s body while Zor-yat cradled her.

“Her eyes are open,” said Zor-yat to the assembled mothers. “Dargu-yat,” she cooed, “I’m your muthuri.”

A white cloth was brought, and Zor-yat wrapped Dar in it. Then she rose, lifting Dar effortlessly. “This is my child,” said Zor-yat in a loud voice. “Tell clan that new mother has been born. Her name is Dargu-yat.” Then Zor-yat carried Dar through the hall as the mothers followed, singing thanks to Muth la. Dar wept like a baby, but she wept for joy.

Dar spent three days in Zor-yat’s sleeping chamber recovering her strength. Her muthuri fed her milk and dressed her in new clothes. During those first days, only immediate family visited. They greeted her as if she were a newborn, giving their familiar names and calling her “little sister.” Later, the entire clan paid their respects. Each visitor precisely described his or her relationship, often using terms Dar had never heard before. After they left, Zor-yat explained what the terms meant, though Dar doubted she would ever get them straight.

The magic hadn’t altered Dar’s body. She looked no different. Her vision and her sense of smell were no keener. Yet she was certain she had become urkzimmuthi, for that was the way she was treated. In this respect, the magic’s power changed everything. When Dar moved back to her room, Nir-yat and Thir-yat were her older sisters. They spoke to her with less respect but more affection, and no topic was too personal.

“Some newborn,” said Nir-yat with a smile. “With tits like those, you’ll be blooded before next moon.”