With that resolution came a measure of calmness. Dar realized that she still needed guidance to succeed and considered to whom she might turn. Only one mother came to mind. In many ways, she was a poor choice. Yet this was the mother Dar wanted by her side. She might refuse to help. I’d hardly blame her if she did. That possibility made Dar anxious again, and she spent another uneasy night.
The following morning, Dar acted. When the daily work within the hall was well under way, she left her hanmuthi without an escort and made her way to the workshop where cloth was woven. The long room featured north-facing windows that filled it with natural light. The floor space was crammed with looms, each with a son or mother busy weaving. As Dar walked among them, no one noticed her at first. When she was spotted, work halted and the room grew quiet. All eyes fixed upon her, and once again, Dar was keenly aware that she didn’t know how to behave.
At last, Dar spotted Nir-yat, who sat motionless with a shuttle in her hand. She bowed when Dar approached her. “I wish to speak with you,” said Dar, in a low voice. “Will you come to my hanmuthi?”
Nir-yat bowed again. “Hai, Muth Mauk.”
The two walked silently until they reached the royal chambers and Dar spoke. “Nir, I need help.” She noted how her sister’s expression turned uneasy. “I assume Muthuri has forbidden you to aid me.” Knowing that Nir-yat was incapable of lying, she pushed the point. “It that so?”
“Hai.”
“Daughters should be dutiful to their muthuri, and your obedience is proper. Yet I fear it will doom me.” Dar saw distress in Nir-yat’s face. It seemed a promising sign. “Only one hope remains.” Dar gazed into her sister’s eyes to communicate her urgency. “Will you bend your neck so I might bite it?”
Nir-yat’s face paled at the enormity of Dar’s request. “Bite my neck! Why?”
“If your life is mine, you’ll be free from Muthuri’s authority.”
“She’ll be angry, and she’ll still have one hold on me. Only muthuris can bless unions.”
“Would she withhold her blessing to punish you?” asked Dar, who hadn’t foreseen that possibility.
“She might.”
“I wouldn’t ask this if my need weren’t great.”
“Why me? I’m too young to be wise.”
There was no word for “trust” in Orcish, for that would require an understanding of deception. Thus, Dar had to explain her reason in another way. “Whenever I’ve sought wisdom, I’ve been told to follow my chest. That’s what I’m doing now. I want advice that springs from love. Even before I was reborn, you took my side.”
“Because you saved brother’s life.” “I think Muth la has sent me to save more than him. Perhaps, to save all urkzimmuthi. I’m only living mother who has witnessed war. If my reign fails, many others may see it also.”
“I know nothing of wars or matriarch councils,” said Nir-yat. “What use can I be?”
“I’m ignorant of royal duties and etiquette. Little mistakes make one seem foolish, and fools have few followers.”
“If you bite my neck, Muthuri will make my life difficult”
“I know, so best you live with me.”
“Forever?”
“If I succeed, I think Muthuri will forgive you. If I fail, I’ll perish. Then you’ll be released from your obligation.”
Nir-yat thought a long while. Dar, sensing her inner struggle, waited patiently. At last, Nir-yat spoke. “Sister, I’ll follow my chest.” She sank to her knees, bent her head, and pushed her hair aside to expose her neck.
Dar knelt beside her sister. As tenderly as possible, she bit Nir-yat’s neck hard enough to leave a mark. Then she embraced her.
Othar was surprised by how many officers visited him. He had already seen two sustolums and a tolum, and it was not yet noon. Karg was the second tolum he interviewed. There was a stigma attached to serving in the orc regiments, and the displaced officers were anxious for positions. Othar needed no special powers to perceive their desperation.
The sorcerer had questioned each officer, for spoken answers were more precise than the impressions he obtained through reading minds. Nevertheless, Othar usually based his judgments on the latter. He had already decided that Karg was as unsuitable as the others, perceiving he was unadept with women. Othar was about to take Karg’s mind when he uncovered an interesting memory. “The orc queen served under you.”
Karg looked surprised. “How did you know that?”
“I have my ways.”
“Aye. She was in my shieldron. She was only the orc wench then. Once, I even had her whipped.”
Othar smiled beneath his silver mask. “That must have been amusing.”
“I didn’t do it. Only gave the order.”
Othar discovered another memory—one that was far more useful. “Too bad Murdant Kol didn’t do the flogging” As soon as the name was uttered, Karg’s thoughts filled with images of a rugged man with piercing blue eyes. Karg feared him, thought Othar, as a cur fears a wolf.
Karg was unaware of the scrutiny. “Aye, if Kol had his way, it would have been the end of her. Then things wouldn’t have gone to shit.”
“Were they enemies?” “She was the only woman Kol never tamed. He couldn’t abide that.”
“Where is he now?”
“Who knows? The regiments have scattered.” Then Karg’s face went blank as Othar seized his mind.
The sorcerer leisurely probed the memories of his latest victim, seeking additional information. The more he learned, the more he was convinced that Kol would be perfect for his plans. When Othar was finished with his examination, he spoke. “Return to your lodging. Tomorrow, seek out a duel. Lose it.”
After what remained of Tolum Karg departed, Othar called for Gorm. The youthful-seeming man quickly appeared. “Aye, Master,” he said without a trace of subservience.
“I’ll see no more officers. Instead, find a man named Kol. He was high murdant in the orc regiments. Persuade him to see me.”
“A promising candidate?”
“Very promising.”
“Every hanmuthi is Muth Mauk’s hanmuthi,” said Nir-yat.
“Does that mean I must give first greeting?” asked Dar.
“Hai. But don’t state your name, for everyone knows it. Instead, you bless ranking mother.”
“May Muth la bless you?” said Dar.
“Hai, but you must bless her by name. That’s important. Always learn it before you enter.”
Dar recalled with embarrassment visiting Metha-yat’s hanmuthi. “So I’ve been doing it wrong.”
Nir-yat sighed. “You’ve been doing everything wrong. You should only wear green kefs and color your claws same shade. Your nipples, too.”
Dar suppressed a smile. “My nipples?”
“Hai.”
“Why green?”
“It’s royal color.”
“My predecessor did none of these things.”
“She did before washavokis imprisoned her.”
“Where do I get this green for my claws and nipples?”
“It called ‘talmauki.’ Jvar-yat provides it.”
Dar recognized the name. “She’s latath who gave me my tattoo.”
“Hai,” said Nir-yat. “And her lore includes secret of making talmauki.”
Dar clapped her hands and a son entered the hanmuthi. “Tell Jvar-yat to bring talmauki.”
After he departed, Nir-yat spoke. “You should send for Thorma-yat, next. You’ll need to order proper clothes. Then have Gar-yat come to help plan your feasts.”
“Feasts?”
“You must invite each hanmuthi here for feast, starting with most lowly.”
“How will I know which one is that?”
“Yev-yat is lorekeeper. She’ll help you.”
Dar was starting to feel overwhelmed. “There’s so much I don’t know. Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“They were forbidden.”
“By whom?”