[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter (22 page)

Dar smiled. “Thank you for watching them.”

“You’re welcome,” said Nir-yat. “Though, if I’d known they were so stubborn, I would have thought twice. It was like herd of muthuris. Which reminds me—you should bathe before you meet our aunt.”

On the way to the hall, they stopped by a stream. As Dar scrubbed away her scent in icy water, Nir-yat spoke of their destination. The Mah clan occupied many halls, which were scattered over the mountain. The one Kath-mah lived in had only one hanmuthi. “We’ll be greeted by Ter-mah,” said Nir-yat. “She’s Kath-mah’s younger sister.”

“If Kath-mah is eldest, why isn’t it her hanmuthi?”

“Kath-mah has two sons, but Ter-mah has two daughters,” replied Nir-yat, as if that explained everything.

It was dusk when Dar and Nir-yat entered the modest hall where Kovok-mah’s parents lived. Ter-mah was seated in the hanmuthi to formally greet them. “Sister’s husband’s sister’s daughters, welcome.” Nir-yat and Dar bowed and returned the greeting. Then Dar’s formal introductions began. These were in order of precedence. She was first greeted by Ter-mah’s daughters, followed by Kath-mah, who had green eyes like her son. Dar then greeted those whose standing was lower than hers: Ter-mah’s husband, then Ter-mah’s daughters’ husbands, followed by Javak-yat, who was Kath-mah’s husband, and finally Ter-yat’s daughters’ children. When the introductions were completed, Ter-mah fed the visitors.

After the meal, Dar and Nir-yat retreated to the chamber of Kath-mah and her husband. Their aunt and uncle were eager for news, especially of Dar’s rebirth. Javak-yat seemed pleased to have a new niece, but Kath-mah’s reaction was more complex. She turned to her husband. “Your sisters certainly have Muth la’s favor,” she said. “Zeta-yat became queen. Zoy-yat became matriarch. And Zor-yat, who already had five daughters, now has six!”

“Muth la favored you also, Mother,” said Dar. “Very few survived battle, but your son was spared.”

Kath-mah snorted. “Spared? Small difference it makes. I never see him.”

“We seldom see his brother, either,” said Javak-yat to his wife. “That doesn’t mean he’s lost to us.”

“Kadat lives in his wife’s hall!” retorted Kath-mah. “He already has daughter. Kovok lives with goats!”

“War is hard,” said Dar. “Even sons who live may have wounded spirits. Give him time to heal.”

“Dargu-yat,” said Javak-yat, “you were with our son. Will you speak of him?”

Dar’s emotions ambushed her. She felt the urge to pour out her feelings to Kovok-mah’s parents, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she was stammering about his bravery when Nir-yat interrupted. “War was hard on my sister also. It pains her to speak of it.”

“Pardon me, Dargu-yat,” said Javak-yat. “I didn’t realize what I was asking.”

Dar nodded politely. “You are as thoughtful as your son.”

Kath-mah looked at Dar quizzically; then her expression turned irritated. “Well, war may have brought you pain, Dargu-yat, but it made you urkzimmuthi mother. Kovok became goat.”

The next morning, Javak-yat left to tend his cheese-making. Kath-mah remained in the hanmuthi to host a “samuth.” Dar broke down the word into “see” and “mother,” which described a samuth’s function perfectly. Unblessed sons came by to introduce themselves, flirt, and hopefully impress an unblessed mother. Nir-yat had been to many samuths and knew all the sons who dropped by. She was in her element—perfectly comfortable and totally in command. Dar found her playful, witty, and sometimes rather lewd.

If it hadn’t been for Dar’s presence, only Nir-yat’s favorites would have bothered to show up. Word was out, however, that a new unblessed mother was at the samuth. Almost every unblessed son in the surrounding settlement dropped by. Dar evoked the same reactions in every one—curiosity and disappointment. The encounters were often difficult because orcs didn’t resort to polite pretense in awkward situations. Many sons thought Dar was interesting, but all found her ugly and communicated that impression—sometimes tactfully and sometimes not. The samuth lasted through the midday meal and late into the afternoon. Throughout, Dar yearned for Kovok-mah, yet dreaded he might appear. He did not.

After the last visitor departed, Nir-yat whispered to Dar, “Your first samuth is always hard. Every son comes. Next time, only those who like you will.”

“Then I’ll have no visitors,” Dar whispered back.

“Don’t believe that! Sons are drawn by more than looks. Jvar-yat is as ugly as goat; yet she’s blessed.”

Dar smiled, though she wondered if Nir-yat’s reference to a goat was intentional.

Twenty-five

Dar and Nir-yat left the following morning accompanied by two mothers who wished to visit the Yat clan hall. The company caused Dar to forgo visiting Kovok-mah again, for she feared word might reach Kath-mah’s ears. Already, Dar feared Kovok-mah’s muthuri would be a barrier to her happiness. That concern increased Dar’s despondency over leaving.

The weather mirrored Dar’s mood. Dank fog obscured the road and hid the mountains. Cold drizzle arrived by late morning. Everyone walked silently, which suited Dar, who had no desire to chat. The four spent the night huddled beneath a ledge, unable to light a fire. The next day, drizzle turned to steady rain. Dar was thoroughly bedraggled when she reached home.

Warmth and food eased Dar’s body, but not her mind. The brief reunion with Kovok-mah only increased her pain over their separation. Her yearning seemed as physical as thirst or hunger, and just as necessary to satisfy. Yet Dar knew there was little chance of that happening soon.

Dar hid her feelings as best she could, assured by the knowledge that there is no scent for unhappiness. Each day, she worked hard in the kitchen, in hope that keeping busy would ease her heartache. Her cooking improved, but not her spirits. She thought no one had noticed her mood until she was summoned to speak with the matriarch.

When Dar entered the Great Chamber, she found Muth-yat alone, peering out a window. The sky was gray and the brown peaks had their first dusting of snow. The matriarch turned and smiled. “Dargu-yat, I’m pleased to see you.” She walked over and touched Dar’s tattoo. “Jvar-yat did fine work.”

Dar returned Muth-yat’s smile before bowing. “I’m much pleased with it, Mother.”

“As you should be. Are you also pleased to be urkzimmuthi?”

“Very much.”

“I understand why, for I have lived among washavokis,” said Muth-yat. “When my muthuri was queen, I often visited them. Old washavoki king ruled then. He was different from his son.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Dar.

“Washavokis have no Fathma,” said Muth-yat. “That’s why son is king now, even though he’s cruel and has strange desires.”

“He favors killing,” said Dar. “I’ve seen that myself.”

“Without Fathma, we might have queens equally cruel and strange.”

“I’ve heard of Fathma,” said Dar, “but I’m not sure what it is.”

“Fathma is special spirit,” said Muth-yat. “Muth la created it long ago and gave it to first queen. It bestowed wisdom, compassion, and fortitude. Before queen died, she passed Fathma to mother most fit to rule. If old washavoki king had possessed Fathma, he wouldn’t have passed it to his unworthy son, and washavokis would have better king now.”

“So Fathma doesn’t pass from mother to daughter?” asked Dar.

“Sometimes it does, but often it doesn’t. Muth la guides queen before she dies.”

“When you took me to place where I was reborn, you mentioned Fathma. You said it returned to urkzimmuthi there.”

“I’m pleased you remember,” said Muth-yat. “Fathma is passed when queen approaches death. When washavokis destroyed Tarathank, they killed queen and everyone around her. Fathma was lost, and there was no queen. Chaos followed. Many died and much was lost.”

“How did Fathma return?” asked Dar.

“Child was born who possessed it. She grew up to be queen.” Muth-yat grasped Dar’s hand and leaned closer. “If urkzimmuthi lose Fathma again, evil times will return. I tell you this because it’s my greatest fear.” Muth-yat’s face grew grim. “When Fathma passed to my sister, she became queen. Now she lives among washavokis in Taiben. There are no urkzimmuthi mothers there, only sons. She is sick. She may die.”

Dar had seen the mage who was “treating” the orc queen’s illness. He didn’t seem capable of charity.
More likely, he’s making her sick.
“Sons should take queen from that place,” Dar said.

“I agree,” said Muth-yat. “Yet sons obey queen, not me.”

“Does she want to stay?”

“She says she does.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Though Dar felt uneasy giving advice, she thought she must speak up. “I think you should visit queen and find out.”

“Mage has forbidden it.”

“Urkzimmuthi do not obey mage.”

“Queen does,” said Muth-yat. “Mothers are turned away. None have seen her for five winters. Dargu, I think mage has used magic to gain power over queen.”

Dar thought it was possible, but she was puzzled why Muth-yat confided in her. Such matters seemed to concern the Council of Matriarchs, not someone like her. Then Dar realized where the talk was heading, and the thought twisted her stomach.

Muth-yat smelled Dar’s fear, but continued anyway. “Dargu-yat, you’re urkzimmuthi mother and daughter of queen’s sister. Yet washavokis are fools. They will not see this. You could go to Taiben. You could see queen and learn what has happened to her.”

As Muth-yat waited for a reply, she smelled Dar’s fear grow stronger. “Mother,” said Dar in a shaky voice. “You’re wise to say washavokis will not see me as urkzimmuthi. They’ll treat me like mother of their kind. This mark on my forehead means anyone who kills me will receive gift. Though I fear death, I fear something else even more. I will have urkzimmuthi spirit, but be compelled to live like washavoki.” Tears began to flow down Dar’s face. “It’s horrible life, with no dignity or peace. Our speech lacks words for cruelties washavokis inflict on mothers.”

Dar fell to her knees before Muth-yat. “Please, Mother, don’t ask me to go. My chest will break.”

Muth-yat stroked Dar’s hair as she would a child’s. “Dargu-yat, Dargu-yat,” she murmured. “I won’t ask you to go against your chest. You’re my sister’s daughter. Stay in our hall and be happy. I’ll find another way.”

Dar wiped her tears, feeling both relieved and ashamed. “Shashav, Mother.”

Muth-yat smiled. “Go back to kitchen. Think no more of queens or mages.”

Muth-yat had returned to the window when her sister entered the chamber. “Snows are coming,” said Zor-yat. “Dargu should leave while road is clear.”

“Dargu isn’t leaving,” said Muth-yat.

“What?”

“She’s afraid,” replied Muth-yat. “I don’t blame her. You know how washavokis treat mothers.”

“Dargu was washavoki. She’s used to it.”

“She’s urkzimmuthi now.”

“Which means she must obey you,” retorted Zor-yat.

“I believe she must go willingly. Otherwise, fear will lead to her death.”

“So what? She’s going to die anyway.”

“If she’s to achieve our goal, her chest must be behind it,” replied Muth-yat.

“But you said it’s not,” said Zor-yat, showing her irritation. “All our efforts have been pointless.
And
she’s living in
my
hanmuthi, not yours. I have to call her daughter and eat her terrible cooking.”

Muth-yat smiled. “Gar-yat says it’s improving.”

“Then serve it in
your
hanmuthi!” Zor-yat sighed. “Sister, we’ve spoken like washavokis and what have our meaningless words gained us? Welcoming Dargu hasn’t worked.”

“Not yet,” replied the matriarch. “But we haven’t learned Dargu’s secret. When we do, things may change.”

“Time’s running out,” said Zor-yat. “I hear our sister calls for more sons to kill for washavoki king.”

“Hai. She wants them in Taiben before winter.”

“More sons to die! What madness!”

“Yet, we must obey,” said Muth-yat. “Zor, discover Dargu’s secret. When sons leave for Taiben, I want Dargu with them.”

Twenty-six