As soon as Zor-yat left, Dar prepared to receive Togumah and Kovok-mah. She bathed, dressed in her finest clothes, blackened her teeth, applied fresh talmauki, and had Nir-yat braid her hair. She took extra care to look regal, for while pretty by human standards, Dar judged herself by orcish ones. She lacked a prominent brow, a sharp chin, and a ridge along her nose, and she felt this made her unattractive. But her brown eyes disturbed her most. Dar thought they resembled a rat’s. Only her black teeth and the clan tattoo on her chin were lovely in her estimation. Making matters worse, her forehead bore King Kregant’s brand and the skin beneath her breast remained discolored from her wound. At least the scars from my flogging are hidden.
Dar recalled how Kovok-mah had treated those lashes with healing magic, and that memory evoked a cascade of others. He my spirit, not my ugly face. Dar placed the crown upon her head, then headed for the Great Chamber. As she passed the son assigned to serve her, she told him to bring the two candidates there.
The Great Chamber resembled a hanmuthi except that a high throne carved from a single block of marble replaced the hearth in its center and arched windows replaced the entrances to sleeping chambers. The throne, which had no back or arms, was a more elaborate version of the stool that matriarchs sat upon. Its seat was so high that steps were necessary to reach it. The windows provided a panoramic view of the surrounding mountains, which were white with snow. The stone floor was heated from beneath, so the chamber was comfortably warm, despite the frigid weather. Dar noted that the stool Muth-yat had sat upon was gone from beside the throne. She climbed into the royal seat, and waited for Kovok-mah and Togu-mah to arrive.
They entered the chamber soon after Dar and halted before the throne. From her elevated position, Dar gazed down at the two sons. The sight of Kovok-mah affected her even more than she expected. The last time she had looked into his green-gold eyes she was certain that she was dying. That moment came back to her, and she saw his gaze held the same expression as then—a mixture of grief and love. It took a while for her to find her voice. “Muth la’s blessing, Togu-mah and Kovok-mah.”
Both sons bowed low. “Shashav, Muth Mauk.” Then Kovok-mah added in the human tongue, “Please don’t choose me.”
Dar responded in Orcish. “Kovok-mah, I’m pleased you still practice speaking washavoki tongue.” Then she changed to human speech. “We’ll talk later.” Switching back to Orcish, she added, “Both of you can render me valuable service.”
Dar regarded Togu-mah. He was shorter but more massively built than Kovok-mah. He had a likable face, lined by frequent smiles, and his eyes bespoke intelligence. Dar had met him while visiting Kath-mah, but she knew him mostly through Nir-yat’s description. He had fought for the washavoki king three times, but not last summer. Like Kovok-mah, he herded goats. He was also skilled at healing their hurts and diseases. “Togu-mah, my sister, whose judgment I respect, spoke highly of your wisdom, strength, and tenacity. I’ve need of son with such qualities.”
As Togu-mah bowed in recognition of her praise, Dar noted his puzzled expression. Dar was certain she had said nothing to provoke his response. She was wondering what had caused it when she detected a faint scent. It was almost imperceptible, but she recognized it immediately. Atur! If I can smell it, the air must be thick with it. No wonder he’s looking at me strangely. Dar was unable to tell if the fragrance betrayed her feelings or Kovok-mah’s, but her awareness of it increased her awkwardness. She stared at Kovok-mah awhile before remembering that she should address him also.
“Kovok-mah, you’ve shown skill in dealing with washavokis. I’ll need emissary who can speak with washavoki great mother.”
Kovok-mah bowed.
“Togu-mah, Zor-yat will welcome you into her hanmuthi. Go rest from your journey. You have pleased me.” As Togu-mah bowed, Dar addressed Kovok-mah. “Kovok-mah, we must speak further.”
Both Dar and Kovok-mah fell silent until Togu-mah left the chamber. “Kovok, I’ve missed you.”
“Muth Mauk, please.”
“Call me Dargu when we’re alone.”
“You’re not Dargu. You’re Muth Mauk now, and we can never be alone. Muthuri has forbidden it.”
“Once you’re my mintari, that won’t matter.”
“If you bite my neck, your authority will be greater than hers in all things but one: We must have her blessing to give love. Without it, you’ll become thwada.”
“I’ve been thwada before.”
“That was different. You were thwada for sacred reasons. When you returned from darkness, you were no longer untouchable. Thwada I speak of lasts forever. It’s like death.”
“To be apart from you is like being thwada,” said Dar.
“Before you speak like that, may I tell you tale?”
“What is this tale?”
“When I was youngling, I accompanied my father on journey. He brought she-goat with us that was too old to give milk. When we reached ridge that lay far from our halls, he made me chase goat away. Then we headed home. I was curious and asked why we had done that thing. Father said that goat was for ghost.”
“Ghost?” said Dar.
“Hai. I was more puzzled than before, but Father would speak no further of it. Yet his words remained with me, for I had never seen ghost. Winter passed, and next spring I was deemed old enough to roam about alone. Then I thought again of that ghost and resolved to see it.”
“Did you?”
“Not on my first trip to ridge. Three times I made journey. Last time was when leaves had fallen from trees. Then I saw her. Ghost was mother unlike any I had ever seen.”
“How?”
“She resembled animal. She wore hides, not proper clothes. It was cold, yet she had no cloak or footwear. And she was as wary as any wild creature. When she saw me, she ran away.”
Dar saw where the tale was heading. “And that mother was thwada.”
“Hai. Muthuri told me when I spoke of her.”
“What did she say?”
“Only that she was mother who had done forbidden thing with her velazul.”
“You mean thing forbidden by her muthuri.”
“Hai,” said Kovok-mah. “She was cast out, to be forever nameless and dead to all her clan. No one could speak to her, or acknowledge her in any way.”
“What of her velazul? Was he cast out also?”
“He was shamed, yet he remained among urkzimmuthi. Sons are weak. Mothers are not.”
“Did you ever see her again?”
“Three winters later, while searching for lost goat, I came upon hole. Its sides were circular and lined with rocks. There were remains of roof. It had caved in. Bones were beneath it.”
“Her bones?”
“I think so. They were of our kind.”
“So she died alone.”
“You will, too, if you make one mistake.”
“Do you think me weak?”
“Thwa, yet I’m still afraid. I don’t want to hurt you in any way.”
“Our separation hurts me.”
“But...”
“I need you by my side. I can’t do everything alone.”
“You’ll find others more worthy than me.”
“Who will speak to Girta if not you? Garga-tok? He’ll frighten her. He lacks your gentleness and your skill with washavoki speech.” “But Muthuri will.”
“She’ll change her mind.”
“You don’t know her as I do. She’s resolute, and her word is law.”
“I want you for my mintari,” said Dar. “Would you refuse that honor?”
Kovok-mah gazed at Dar, his face betraying his inner struggle. With a pang of remorse, Dar thought he looked miserable. Then he lowered his head. “Sons are weak,” he said in a low voice.