[Queen of Orcs 03] - Royal Destiny (28 page)

“Shashav for this gift.”

Muth-pah bowed and departed.

Dar sat in the dark gazing at the mysterious stone. Its shifting colors fascinated her and also the idea that she might experience moments from departed lives. Her mother immediately came to mind, but the traumatic memory of her death in childbirth made Dar rethink the choice. Dar could easily see how reliving that night would open old wounds.

Dar also thought of Twea.
Her death was even more terrible.
But it was also mysterious.
Who killed her?
Dar didn’t recall Muth-pah saying that the stone revealed only moments that were fearful or sorrowful.
Besides, my dreams of Twea are already painful. Could the stone’s visions be any worse?
Dar imagined not and yielded to temptation. Holding the stone, she thought of Twea.

What happened next seemed less real than waking life, but more vivid than any dream or memory. She was staring down at two bare feet. They were small and dirty. One foot swung from side to side, its big toe marking a crescent in the dirt. Above the thin legs was a ragged, oversized shift. Dar realized those were Twea’s feet, as seen from Twea’s perspective.

“Look at me!” shouted a woman’s voice.

The view changed to a hard-faced woman whom Dar had never seen before. Yet she knew the speaker. Twea called her Auntie. “Ye’re garbage,” said Auntie. “Yer mother throwed ye away. That’s why ye can’t sleep in the house.”

The image faded to be replaced by another. Dar recognized the setting. It was one of the army’s encampments in enemy territory. Dar saw Taren stirring the porridge pot, and then she spied herself. She was dusty from the day’s march and burdened with a load of firewood. Then—since this was Twea’s memory—she felt a surge of love. It was so intense that she dropped the stone.

Dar was alone in the Great Chamber, still experiencing Twea’s love.
She believed I was her mother!
Seen from the child’s perspective, it didn’t seem impossible, and Dar understood how need and imagination had made it so.
She never told me.

Dar held the stone again and was in a different place. It was dark. She was in a wagon bed, hidden under a coarse cloth. There were shouts and screams horrible to hear. Weapons clanged. She was anxious and terrified.
When’s Dar coming? She said she’d get me.

There were soft thumping sounds at the rear of the wagon. Someone moaned. Dar recognized the sounds, though Twea did not. They were arrows striking someone.
Taren’s just been killed
, thought Dar, steeling herself for what she knew would follow. Still, she gripped the stone, reliving Twea’s last memory.

The cloth is jerked aside. “Dar?”

Not Dar. Soldiers.
She had served them porridge just that morning. One speaks. “Nay, birdie. Dar’s been hurt. We’re here to take ye to her. Where’s she at?”

“I don’t know! She said wait here!”

“Are ye sure, birdie? Dar’s hurt real bad. She needs ye. Needs ye now.”

“I don’t know where she is! I don’t know!”

Sobbing.

“She’s useless,” said a soldier. “Do we take her to Kol?”

“Nay,” said the other. “He only wants Dar. He said do it here.”

A sword blade flies out. It feels like burning.
It’s sticking in my chest! Blood! My blood!
Burning. Growing darkness. Burning. Nothing.

The Trancing Stone fell from Dar’s hand, yet pain lingered in her chest. Not the pain of a sword strike, but pain equally as hurtful. Dar wailed with grief and rage. Gradually, rage dominated. It colored the darkness red.

“Kol!” screamed Dar. “Kusk washavoki!”
Washavoki filth!
“Ga dava-tak fer!”
You killed her!

Thirty-two

Although Kovok-mah pined for Dar, he found life in the garrison an improvement over that in the palace. Two barracks had been refurbished for the orc guards. Their circular walls made them feel homier and each contained a proper hearth, which vented through a hole in the ceiling. Reed mats covered the dirt floors, the rough stone walls had been plastered, and wooden doors replaced the hide door flaps. Better yet, another barracks had been turned into a bath with a flagstone floor, a stone bathing pool, and means to heat the bathwater. Even the food had improved somewhat. It was still served by woe mans. They and the black-garbed Queen’s Men were the only washavokis within the garrison, which was otherwise empty except for the thirty-six orc guards.

The gates of the garrison were always open, and sons went freely into Taiben to serve at the palace. Two orcs guarded the queen by day and another two by night. This number bothered Kovok-mah, for it seemed inadequate. While two armed and armored urkzimmuthi were formidable protectors, he knew they could be overwhelmed. Separating the queen from her troop of orcish guards seemed foolish to Kovok-mah, and he worried that Dar would be displeased by the change.

Kovok-mah had felt isolated ever since Zna-yat had left for the royal hall. He had received no news or instructions from Dar, and Sevren hadn’t visited the garrison. Kovok-mah had yet to send his report to Dar. He wanted to deliver it personally, but feared that would jeopardize her. After vacillating for days, Kovok-mah acted. He wrote out his account and asked Garga-tok to provide a courier. Watching the messenger depart, Kovok-mah nearly ran after him to trade places. Instead, he returned to the barracks. He opened his pack and withdrew the tunic he had worn on the night Dargu slept in his arms. He had not washed or worn it since. Kovok-mah held the garment to his face, breathed in Dar’s scent, and sighed.

Queen Girta gazed out the window at Taiben’s rooftops. After the previous night’s snowfall, the city appeared pristine under a cloudless sky.
I used to love winter
, she thought. That was before her late husband had taken to warfare. Then winter became a pause between campaigns, a time when drunken men caroused and boasted of bloody deeds. Girta had come to feel that cold weather transformed the palace into a kennel for vicious dogs. But worse than them was the mage, whose ominous presence oppressed the entire court.

The demise of her husband and his sorcerer should have ushered in more peaceful times, but Girta felt they hadn’t. Instead of the mage, there were orcs, who seemed equally menacing. Rumors of plots bedeviled her, and a string of misfortunes had overcome her closest confidants. Lady Rowena, Girta’s friend from childhood, had been strangled by a deranged servant. General Gotha’s wife had committed suicide, and Lord Nothur’s spouse had suffered a fatal fall. All three women had always provided support and useful insights. Others were gone as well. Military officers, noblemen, and counselors had perished by mischance or random acts of violence. All were good men. Even Girta’s lady’s maid had been murdered by a lover. It had been a trying winter.

The queen’s bulwark against her fears and misfortunes was General Kol. He was always self-assured, and she had come to depend on him. Sometimes Girta felt that she depended on him too much. There was occasionally something in his manner that sparked her resentment, a condescension that appeared at unguarded moments. These usually occurred when she was speaking to the prince and took the form of a look on Kol’s part. It seemed to say, “Ignore your mother’s foolishness.”
I shouldn’t think like that
, Girta told herself.
General Kol’s my protector. No wonder my son adores him.

A knock interrupted Girta’s musings, and the door opened before she could respond. General Kol entered and bowed. “Your Majesty, another orc has abandoned your guard. The Queen’s Men saw him leave this morning.”

“Did they find out why he left?”

“They just let him pass, as per orders.”

“
Whose
orders?”

“Mine,” replied Kol, his face bland. “It’s part of our plan.”

“Oh yes,” said Girta, wondering what plan he was talking about.

“To lure out Dar. We won’t know what she’s plotting until she comes to Taiben.”

“What makes you think she’ll come?”

“She’ll come because she’s about to learn her scheme has fallen apart,” said Kol. Girta shot him a puzzled look and he elaborated. “Moving the orcs outside the palace thwarted her chance for a surprise attack.”

“There are still two of her fiends outside my door day and night!”

“We’ve been over this before,” said Kol. “If we banished the orcs altogether, Dar would know we’re wary. Instead, we’ve improved their accommodations, which happen to lie outside the city. Just you wait. Dar will betray her intentions. She’ll arrive to persuade you to move her orcs back into the palace.”

“It’s a clever trap,” said Girta, “but I feel like the bait.”

“The Queen’s Men spy on those two orcs from hidden places, ready to burst forth and cut them down at the first false move.”

“Still, I abhor all this trickery.”

“Would you rather go to war?” asked Kol. “Shouldn’t we try to snare Dar in her own noose before it comes to that?”

“You’re right, as usual,” said Girta.

Kol moved to her side. “I only want to keep you safe.” He lightly placed his fingers upon her hand, which rested on the windowsill. It was the first time he had ever presumed to touch her, and the contact was tentative. Girta didn’t protest, so Kol’s left his fingers where they were.

Kovok-mah’s message arrived at the Yah clan hall the following day. When Dar read it, her anger toward Kol, which had simmered ever since she had used the Tracing Stone, flared hot again. It was clear that Kol was already unraveling her treaty. Dar agreed with Kovok-mah that two orc guards were insufficient protection.
Girta’s a fool
, she thought.
Her orcs were unshakably loyal, and she’s replaced them with Kol’s minions.
Dar was irritated that the orcs had so passively submitted to the change. However, she forgave them, for it was their nature to obey mothers. The irony didn’t escape her. They submitted to Girta as Girta submitted to Kol.

Kol’s rise within the court still surprised and perplexed Dar. As far as she knew, murdants never became officers. She assumed he had some powerful friends, but she couldn’t imagine who. The Queen’s Man had been killed when the orcs attacked Taiben.
Who else could Kol have known?
It seemed a mystery that only she had hopes of solving. The orcs would be useless in unraveling such intrigue.

Dar wanted to go to Taiben immediately, but she restrained herself until everything was ready. Her and Nir-yat’s clothing were completed first. Nir-yat worked with Thorma-yat on the final details of the shirts. They fit well and looked good to Dar’s eye. The design for the pendant was a broad-crowned yew, the tree sacred to Muth la. Once it was cast, a wide talmauki ribbon was specially woven to suspend it. Dar consulted with the lorekeeper about both the New and Old roads to Taiben and studied deetpahis that mapped their routes. She also ensured that all her mintaris had arms, armor, and new woolen robes, since she wanted them to accompany her. She expanded their number by biting the necks of the two Goth clan candidates and Treen-pah.

After those preparations were complete, Dar had to delay leaving until sons from the Tok clan arrived. They would stand ready to seal the pass if she gave the order. They came, nearly fifty strong, burdened by their heavy tools and accompanied by some Tok clan mothers. After Dar saw to their accommodation, she announced that she would depart for Taiben the following day. By then, all the matriarchs except Muth-pah had left for their halls.

The evening before departure, Dar spoke to her traveling party. She told them that she wanted to ensure that the washavokis’ queen desired peace. She didn’t explain her concerns, for she was certain only Zna-yat could possibly grasp them. What Dar feared most was Kol’s treachery. Aware of his cunning, she thought it was likely that he had a trap waiting for her. Nevertheless, she was resolved to face him.
I’ve beaten him twice before
, Dar told herself.
I’ll beat him this time, too.

Kol’s secret benefactor lay on a soft feather bed within his darkened room, incapable of rest. Othar was tormented. Though his charred flesh no longer pained him, he was afflicted by the knowledge that his body wasn’t wholly his. Whatever had possessed the magic bones possessed him. It gave him extraordinary powers, but the price was dear.

Unnatural needs governed the sorcerer. He craved bloodshed. He craved it with the same single-mindedness that a parched man wants water and for the same reason—he needed it to survive. Without slaughter to sustain it, his possessor would shuck him like a soiled glove. That terrified the mage, for he had an inkling of what nightmare being would be waiting for him on the Dark Path. Thus the sorcerer dedicated all his powers to helping Kol provoke a war.

There were signs he was succeeding. Othar had acquired some of the bones’ powers of premonition. He sensed forces on the move, and knew events were approaching fruition. The mage had misty glimpses of massed soldiers. Snow swirled about them, colored red by sheets of billowing flame.

Thirty-three