Morgan Howell - Queen of Orcs 03 - Royal Destiny - Страница 3

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Dar walked over to the window on shaky legs. She scraped frost from a pane and peered through it. The mountains gleamed white in the moonlight. The pastures are snow-covered, she thought. Kovok-mah’s goats will be stabled for the winter, and he’ll stay with his muthuri. Dar reminded herself that it no longer made any difference where Kovok-mah stayed. He was unobtainable.

“Muth Mauk, why are you up?” asked Deen-yat.

“Dream woke me.”

“Your flesh is bumpy. Are you chilled?”

“I’m fine,” said Dar. “Air feels good.”

Nevertheless, Deen-yat rose to stand close to her. “You’re still weak. Evil magic lingers yet.”

The healer guided Dar back to the mattress. When Dar lay down, Deen-yat covered her with a sleeping cloak. “Try to sleep, Muth Mauk.”

Deen-yat’s mention of Othar’s magic evoked memories of the mage. Dar’s last sight of him had been seared into her memory—a pair of eyes staring from a charred face. He died, Dar reminded herself And the bones, my greater enemy, were destroyed. She had witnessed both events. I’ve nothing to worry about. Yet after her dream, a shadow of doubt arose.

It was late afternoon and Dar was seated in her hanmuthi, having bathed, blackened her teeth, and dressed in a new neva and new kefs. Following custom, she wore the pair of capelike kefs so her breasts were exposed, although that meant revealing her wound. Zor-yat’s eyes fixed on it as soon as she entered the room. “Muth Mauk, my chest breaks to view your injury.”

“Please call me ‘daughter,’ Muthuri. That name makes me most glad.”

“Yet you’re Muth Mauk now,” said Zor-yat. “How can I forget? Where’s your crown? You should be wearing it.”

“There’s no need for crown. My family visits.”

“All urkzimmuthi are your family now. When my sister became great mother, everything changed. Dargu-yat is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Dargu-yat’s spirit is no more. Fathma changes everything.”

Dar was about to say that she felt no different when she realized that wasn’t true. Although she felt no wiser or mightier, she was imbued with a love for every orc. She also experienced vague, transient memories that she assumed belonged to former queens. “Hai, I’ve changed. But are you still my muthuri?”

Zor-yat smiled. “Of course, Muth Mauk.”

“Then, I’m happy.” Dar rose from her stool and embraced her muthuri though it made her wound ache.

Zor-yat smelled Dar’s pain as she hugged her. “You must tell me all that happened in Taiben. We received tales from that washavoki that brought you here and my sister’s son as well, but only you know everything. Why did my sister die?”

“Black Washavoki poisoned her long ago, then gave her healing magic to keep her alive. That magic clouded her mind so she spoke Black Washavoki’s words.”

“I thought magic was used on her,” said Zor-yat. “So did Muth-yat. I’m glad Black One died.”

“In order to clear her mind, your sister stopped taking healing magic, knowing it would cause her death. She’d been waiting for me.”

“For you?”

“Hai. For mother to receive Fathma.”

“So you could pass it to another?”

Dar recalled hovering on the edge of death and finding no one worthy to receive the divine gift. Was Muthuri there? It seemed likely, so Dar worded her reply carefully. “When I thought I was dying, I tried to bestow Fathma, but.. .but I lacked strength.”

“Then we’re lucky you lived.” Zor-yat appeared to reflect for a moment. “Now that you have strength, you can do what you intended.”

“Do you think another should be queen?”

“Crown is burden, even for those who are prepared to receive it. Look at my sister’s fate.”

Dar sighed. “Hai, but this burden is Muth la’s gift. I shouldn’t refuse it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure of nothing.” Dar thought how the Goddess Karm had temples with holy ones to guide the people. “Muthuri, is there someone among urkzimmuthi who understands Muth la best? Someone who offers guidance?”

“Hai, my daughter. She’s called Muth Mauk.”

Dar and her muthuri talked long. Dar recounted the events in Taiben as thoroughly as she could, knowing that Muth-yat and many others would quickly hear them. Dar saved one item for last, and as she spoke, she watched Zor-yat carefully. “When I met Kovok-mah in Taiben, I told him his muthuri would bless us. I said this because you told me so. He called me foolish.”

“And so you were, Daughter. I never said Kath-mah would bless you. I said I hoped she would.”

Dar’s recollection was distinctly different. I never would have gone to Taiben if I’d known the truth. As she gazed at her muthuri, she had the unsettling suspicion that she had been tricked.

“Love clouds judgment,” said Zor-yat. “Your chest overruled your mind, and you heard what you wished to hear.”

Dar wanted to believe her muthuri, but she didn’t. Nevertheless, she felt it would be unwise to say so. “You speak wisdom,” she said, inclining her head as a dutiful daughter. Zor-yat looked pleased and left soon afterward.

The visit had exhausted Dar, and she retired to the mattress in her sleeping chamber. Deen-yat was waiting there, so Dar feigned sleep. She felt both disappointed and disturbed. She had hoped that her reunion with her muthuri would be like her rebirth, when Zor-yat had cradled her and proclaimed to all that Dar was her child. That loving moment had not been repeated. Instead, Dar was certain that her muthuri had lied to her.

In light of that realization, Dar saw herself as Zor-yat and Muth-yat’s pawn. Both had understood her visions. They knew Othar was Dar’s enemy and didn’t warn her. Dar concluded that Zor-yat had been right—feelings had clouded her judgment. Her desire to be a part of Zor-yat’s family had blinded her. Dar wondered why Zor-yat had become her muthuri. She suspected it involved the crown.

If that’s the case, who’ll teach me how to rule? Dar assumed Zor-yat’s advice would be self-serving at best. And Muth-yat’s her sister. Does she want the crown, too? It seemed likely. Dar knew that both mothers commanded obedience, and whatever she said—regardless to whom—would likely reach their ears. She could trust Zna-yat; his loyalty was absolute. But Zna-yat was a son, and sons knew little about wielding authority. Besides, he was in Taiben. Dar recalled her dream about entering darkness. It suddenly felt like a portent. I’m lost, all right. And completely alone.

“Don’t visit your sister today,” said Zor-yat to Nir-yat. “She’s too ill to receive more visitors.”

“Hai, Muthuri,” said Nir-yat. “Your news saddens me.”

“I understand. You two are close. I think she’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

“I should warn you—that magic has gravely harmed her. You’ll know that when you see her wound. Dargu isn’t well. Neither is she prepared to rule.”

“But I’ve heard...”

“Don’t question my wisdom!”

Nir-yat bowed her head. “Hai, Muthuri.”

“Tomorrow when you speak with your sister, encourage her to pass on Fathma. She intended to do so earlier, but her strength failed her. Now that’s she’s recovering, she should fulfill her intention. Dargu is newly reborn—a child really. Can you see her facing Council of Matriarchs?”

“She’d find it difficult,” said Nir-yat.

“More than difficult. Catastrophic. Dargu received Fathma because she was only mother in Taiben. It was chance, not Muth la’s will. If she remains great mother, it’ll cause trouble. Another should rule.”

Upon hearing those words, Nir-yat grew alarmed. “But afterward...”

“Dargu need not know about that. It would frighten her into making poor choice. I forbid you to tell her. Do you understand?”

Nir-yat bowed yet again. “I understand, Muthuri.”

Four

Dar received no further visitors for the remainder of the day. After she ate the evening meal, she called Deen-yat to her. “I feel much better. You needn’t spend night with me.”

Deen-yat bowed. “Shashav, Muth Mauk. It would please me to sleep in my own hanmuthi. But you must promise to do nothing foolish.”

Dar smiled. “I’ll try not to.”

“Then I’ll depart. There are always sons outside your hanmuthi. You need only clap and they’ll attend to any need.” Deen-yat bowed again.

“Go with my gratitude.”

“I’ll see you in morning. Sleep well, Muth Mauk.”

After Deen-yat left, Dar rose and paced slowly about her grand but empty hanmuthi. It was far larger than Zor-yat’s, which housed three generations. Dar gazed at the vacant sleeping chambers, feeling lonely. Again, she briefly saw sons and mothers in them. Are these memories bestowed by Fathma? Ghosts? An effect of my poisoning? All Dar knew for certain was that the images were growing more real and occurring more frequently. She thought of the generations that had lived within the space where she stood and felt like an interloper. She wondered if her muthuri was right and another should dwell in the hanmuthi. Yet Dar couldn’t imagine who.

When Nir-yat arrived the following morning and saw Dar’s wound, she lost all decorum. She ran to Dar and embraced her, all the while making a keening sound deep in her throat. Dar’s eyes teared when she realized her sister was crying. “I’m all right, Nir,” she said, stroking Nir-yat’s thick hair. “I’m healing.

My wound looks worse than it feels.”

Nir-yat calmed. When she drew back to examine Dar, her mood changed. She grinned to see the gold band upon Dar’s head. “Baby sister’s Muth Mauk!”