“Hai.”
“Why?”
“Because they were foolish.”
Sevren rode in silence a while before he asked. “How were they foolish?”
“They thought washavokis had changed.”
“In what way?”
“They believed washavokis had grown tired of killing. Great Washavoki wanted sand ice, yellow iron, wood, and even pashi. It would trade copper, iron, and milkstone for them.”
“Heavy goods,” said Sevren. “So you built road?”
“Hai. Some washavokis helped.”
“Then what happened? This road is used little.”
“Great Washavoki died and its son became Great Washavoki. That son was good. When it died, its son was bad.”
“Kregant the Second.”
“I do not know its name, only that it liked to take, not trade. Then no wagons traveled road. Only sons to kill for Great Washavoki.”
“I wished to serve his father,” said Sevren. “When I come, father dead.”
“I think Kreegan-tesekun was like most of its kind. Washavokis like killing.”
Sevren saw little point in arguing. What has Zna-yat except our wars?
The two reached the pass by late afternoon. Beyond the ridge, the road headed downward, but the snow upon it was much deeper. Sevren was forced to dismount and lead Skymere along the trail that Zna-yat broke. The snow reached Sevren’s waist and the drifts were frequently taller than his head. Without the orc in front, he probably would have turned back.
Progress was slow, and the travelers were still far from the Yat clan hall when darkness fell. Sevren suspected that Zna-yat would have continued walking were it not for him. Yet it was the orc who suggested that they halt for the night. They found a sheltered spot on the wooded mountain and set up a camp. Zna-yat snapped off tree limbs for firewood while Sevren tended to his horse. Soon they had a fire going. When Sevren saw that Zna-yat planned to dine on cold leftover roots, he insisted that the orc share the bread and cheese he had brought. They melted snow for herb water, which Sevren augmented with brandy. Zna-yat took a tentative sip. “This is like falfhissi.” He smiled. “Feast food. It warms you.”
“We will need it this night,” said Sevren, pulling his cloak tighter. He gazed at the dark mountain. “I was here with Muth Mauk. I thought she was dying. I was very sad.”
Zna-yat took another gulp of brandy, then regarded Sevren, whose scent of atur had grown stronger.
“She looked at me like she saw my spirit,” continued Sevren. “Could she do that?”
“Perhaps. She is no ordinary mother.”
“Hai.” Sevren took another swig of brandy and stared into the flames awhile. “Zna-yat, you were wrong. I love not her body. I mean, not only. We never.” Sevren didn’t know the word. “Just.” He made a kissing sound. “And not many. I love her big good spirit.”
“I understand. You should see Muth Mauk. But it will be hard for you.”
“Hai. I think this also.”
The following morning, Sevren and Zna-yat rose at dawn and continued their journey. They reached the Yat clan hall early in the afternoon. Once there, Zna-yat left his companion in a chamber close to the hall’s entrance, for he thought Dar would want some warning of Sevren’s arrival. Then Zna-yat went to the royal hanmuthi, where he was greeted by Nir-yat. “Brother, it pleases me to see you!”
“Your sight fills my chest, Sister. It’ll be good to sit and talk, but first I must see Muth Mauk.”
“She’s with lorekeeper,” replied Nir-yat, her expression growing somber. “She wishes to write her tale before council meets.”
“I’ve news from Taiben, and Sev-ron came with me.”
“I’ll tell her you’re here,” said Nir-yat. Then she hurried from the room.
Dar returned with Nir-yat soon afterward. She smiled when she saw Zna-yat, but he thought she looked troubled. “May Muth la bless you, Zna-yat. I hear that you have news. And where’s Sevren?”
“He waits nearby. Perhaps you will wish to greet him in Great Chamber, so he might see what you’ve become.”
Dar smiled, appreciating Zna-yat’s shrewdness. “That’s good idea.” Then she impulsively hugged Zna-yat. “I’ve missed you, Brother.”
“I’ve missed you also.” When Dar released him, Zna-yat noticed that her eyes had filled with water.
“So what news?” asked Dar. “How’s treaty going?”
“Bah Simi is Queen’s Man.”
“What!” Zna-yat watched Dar’s face grow red as the scent of her anger turned the air pungent. “That stupid.” Dar began to speak in the washavoki tongue. Although Zna-yat didn’t understand the words, they were said in a hard, wrathful way. Then Dar switched back to Orcish. “How could Girta be so foolish? There should be no Queen’s Man. No washavoki can speak for me. Do sons obey him?”
“Thwa, only washavokis who wear black. Red-and-blue washavokis are no more. Queen’s Man has cast them out. Sev-ron can explain it.”
“Are urkzimmuthi treated with honor?”
“Very little. Woe mans serve us, but food is poor. Our chamber is barely suitable.”
“Do sons still guard washavoki great mother?”
“Hai. But I’m told black washavokis will guard her also.”
“What’s your impression of Taiben?” asked Dar.
“I think we aren’t welcome. Quengirta fears us.”
“It’s Bah Simi she should fear,” said Dar. “She doesn’t understand him.”
“But you do,” said Zna-yat. “Perhaps you can give her wisdom.”
“Thwa,” replied Dar. “In four days, I think urkzimmuthi will have different queen. It’ll be her task to deal with washavokis.”
Dar was enthroned when Sevren was brought to the Great Chamber. His escort departed immediately, leaving him alone with Dar. He stood gaping at her until she said “May Muth la bless you” in the human tongue.
Sevren suddenly remembered that he should bow. “Shashav, Muth Mauk.”
“Pahav tha Pahmuthi dup?” Do you speak Orcish now?
“Ke.” Little. “I do much better in our tongue.”
“Your tongue,” said Dar. “Merz pah nak Pahmuthi.” My tongue is Orcish.
“Of course. I meant your former tongue.”
Having grown accustomed to the orcish manner of dress, Dar was unprepared for its effect on Sevren. She was annoyed that he stared at her green-painted nipples, and her tone reflected it when she asked, “Why are you here?” “There’s trouble in Taiben.”
“I know.”
“And Dar. ..I had to see you.”
“So now you have, breasts and all.”
Sevren’s face reddened. “I...I...”
“You used to be more eloquent.”
“My heart has overcome my wits. I thought you’d died.”
Dar recalled her last ride with Sevren. Near death, she had been able to peer at his spirit and understand its secrets. Her annoyance melted as she realized he was still burdened with love. “I’m too harsh,” she said in a softer voice. “You’ve come a long way for so poor a welcome.” Dar adjusted her kefs so that one covered her chest, then descended from the throne. “Zna-yat says that Kol is Queen’s Man now. What does Girta think she’s doing?”
“Whatever it is, I do na know. The royal guard has been disbanded, replaced by the Queen’s Men. I’m only a watchman now.”
“I had hoped that you’d returned to Averen and become a farmer.”
“That dream’s still beyond my means. And less sweet now that you won’t.”
“Don’t speak of it,” said Dar quickly.
“Aye, there’s na point.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“Since Queen Girta does na require my service, I’d like to offer it to you,” said Sevren. “Your orcs keep to themselves and know little of what stirs in Taiben. I could prove useful.”
Dar sighed and walked over to the window. Sevren followed her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the snow-covered mountains. “Your offer’s untimely,” she said in a quiet voice.