“Aye, but she wasn’t a queen then. I still thought I had a chance with her.”
“Even after your hopes were dashed, you’ve persisted with your lessons. Why?”
“With orcs living in the palace, it seems prudent to understand them.” Sevren smiled. “And Thamus, I like your company. Court’s a nest of vipers. It’s good to talk with an honest man.”
“Shashav, Sevren. Gu fwilakma pahi ta tha.” Thank you, Ssvren. It pleases me to speak with you.
It was dark when Sevren left Thamus’ house, and he carried his sword unsheathed while returning to the palace. Once, he heard furtive footsteps, but they faded into the distance. The unsafe streets seemed to him another sign that things were awry. There was something abroad that made Sevren uneasy, although he couldn’t say what it was. He had hoped that the death of Kregant and his mage, coupled with the new treaty, would usher in better times. Instead, men grumbled and rumors abounded. It seemed likely that Dar’s sacrifice had been for naught.
Thamus’ assurance that the orcs would be steadfast should have encouraged Sevren, but he still worried. Queen Girta’s orc guards were her best deterrent against usurpers; yet she shrank from them. A woman beleaguered by rats should na shun cats. But Girta did, and Sevren feared her enemies would thrive.
Things have gone sour, Sevren thought. I should be moving on. He couldn’t imagine where. His purse remained short of the price for a farm, but he didn’t wish to soldier in Luvein again. In truth, he still clung to the hope that Dar lived. His dream of taking her to Averen seemed utterly lost—sand ice
dropped on a stone floor. Yet the memory of it bound him to Taiben until he knew Dar’s fate.
Sixteen
Despite her words to the contrary, Dar worried that Nir-yat was right, and it was foolish to call for Kovok-mah. Dar knew that, even as queen, she couldn’t gainsay his muthuri. Dar could make Kovok-mah serve her, but only Kath-mah could bless their union. Dar wasn’t even sure if he could touch her without his muthuri’s permission. She thought he probably could, but further intimacies would be a major transgression. Sb why torment myself? Dar’s reason was simple. She was tormented already.
Dar believed that she was urkzimmuthi because of Kovok-mah. Even when they first met, he knew she was different. He had taught her Orcish, healed her wounds, and protected her from the washavoki soldiers. When she incited the orcs to desert, he followed her leadership. He said she made him feel secure. And then, in Tarathank’s ruins, he had given her love. It was his love that made Dar feel truly urkzimmuthi—more than her crown or even her rebirth—because it had preceded both. No washavoki has ever received such love as I have.
But Kovok-mah’s love was denied her because his muthuri wanted granddaughters. Dar knew they would bring Kath-mah more status than a son’s marriage to a queen. Though Dar felt a muthuri should care more about her son’s happiness, Kath-mah didn’t, and there was little Dar could do about it. That brought Dar back to her dilemma: She could keep Kovok-mah by her side, but he must stay aloof. Dar didn’t know which would be worse—having him close or not having him at all. Her chest wanted him close. Her head told her that was foolhardy.
The evening of her third feast, Dar was often distracted by thoughts of Kovok-mah. She had already calculated how long it would take her message to reach Muth-mah and how soon Kovok-mah might arrive. The hanmuthi Dar was hosting that night was headed by a muthuri who was scarcely older than she. Yet the muthuri already had three daughters, none of whom was old enough to serve. Her hanmuthi also included two elderly aunts and their families. Clearly discontented, they reminded Dar of Kath-mah.
Despite drinking too much falfhissi, Dar slept fitfully after the feast. The next morning, she woke with a headache. After chewing a washuthahi seed to ease her hangover, she went to see the lorekeeper. Dar was still taking lessons in reading and writing, but that wasn’t the reason for her visit. Nevertheless, Dar practiced her writing awhile before asking what she wanted to know. “Can reborn mothers have children?”
Yev-yat responded by stroking the lines of her clan tattoo. “Interesting question,” she said after a long pause. She continued stroking her chin awhile, then rose and began pulling deetpahis from the shelves. She returned with an armload and read through several before pointing to a passage. “Here’s tale of washavoki son who was reborn as Hunda-pah. He and mother named Dir-tab were blessed. There is no Tab clan now.”
“Is it lost like Pah clan?” asked Dar.
“Thwa, they’re all dead. Before washavokis came, there were thirteen clans. Now there are only eight, nine if you count Pah clan. But I digress. Here.” Yev-yat pointed to a passage. “Dir-tab bore son named
Tak-tab.” Yev-yat read silently a while. “It says he looked strange.”
“How?” asked Dar.
“It doesn’t say.” Yev-yat read some more. “Later he was killed.”
“By who?”
“Some washavoki that was kin to Hunda-yat’s washavoki parents.”
“But Dir-tab was born urkzimmuthi,” said Dar. “Does any deetpahi speak of reborn mothers who bore children?”
The question prompted another bout of reading and more visits to the stacks of deetpahis. Dar waited patiently as the lorekeeper sought the answer. At last, Yev-yat spoke again. “No one has been reborn for long time, and much wisdom has been lost. I’ve found tales of three reborn mothers, but only one was blessed. She was Deen-jan and she lived near Tarathank. Perhaps she had child, but that child may have been her sister. Tale is unclear about this.” The lorekeeper gathered up the deetpahis. “Why did you ask that question?”
Dar’s face reddened. “I hope to have daughters.”
“What mother doesn’t?”
Tolum Kol made his first appearance in court at one of its frequent banquets. Girta’s feasts were neither as lavish nor as well attended as her late husband’s, but the ambitious came. As they milled about, all noted the new officer on General Voltar’s staff. Word was out that he was an expert on orcs, and that information spurred a round of speculation. Some thought the tolum was there to curb the orcs. Others believed he was their advocate. Many wondered if he was being groomed as the new Queen’s Man.
The consensus among the ladies was that Tolum Kol cut a dashing figure. He was deemed handsome in a rugged way and many commented on his piercing blue eyes. The men who regarded him a likely rival took comfort in his lack of noble birth. They found his confident demeanor unsettling, despite his courtesy.
Prior to the formal seating, courtiers could approach Queen Girta with petitions and other business. Those that did found her distracted. She was worried about her son, who had been withdrawn since his father’s death and prone to night terrors. Orc guards stood silently behind the queen, casting a pall over the entire gathering. Young Kregant Ш seemed terrified by them. He fidgeted anxiously by his mother’s side while she listened to petitions with half an ear.
General Voltar waited for a lull, then approached the queen. “Your Majesty,” he said with a bow. “May I introduce my new staff officer, Tolum Kol.”
“Your Majesty,” said Kol, bowing deeply, all the while keeping his gaze on Girta.
“He knows a thing or two about piss eyes,” said General Voltar.
“That’s useful,” replied the queen in an absent manner.
The general seemed about to say something more when Kol touched his sleeve. Voltar bowed instead, and the two men departed to be replaced by a count with some grievance. Queen Girta didn’t think of
Tolum Kol again until the banquet was nearly over and her son slumbered fitfully on his miniature throne. Then all she could recall were his eyes and how assured they looked.
While Girta thought of Tolum Kol’s eyes, Dar’s feast was also winding down. She had arrived late from visiting the lorekeeper and had been barely ready when her guests arrived. The family she hosted that night was even larger than Tauma-yat’s, and serving everyone was time-consuming. As on the previous night, Dar was distracted by thoughts of Kovok-mah, but she put on a good effort and thought the night had gone well.