When Dar finished speaking, Muth-yat stepped forward. “I agree with everything Muth Mauk has said. Without her, Fathma would be lost to urkzimmuthi. When my sister was dying, Dargu-yat was only urkzimmuthi mother present. That was why Dargu-yat received Fathma.
“If you are lost and thirsty, is it not wise to cup hands and drink water when you find it? Of course it is. But it is foolish to store water in one’s palm. Enduring vessel is needed for that. Dargu-yat received Fathma and brought it to us. That was good. But is she fit to keep it?
“Dargu-yat was reborn this summer. Should infant be our queen? Her urkzimmuthi spirit dwells in ugly washavoki body. Her nose is not wise. How can she tell what others feel? She smells neither fear nor anger nor love nor pain. These are dangerous times. We need experienced queen, not some crippled newborn.”
“I agree,” said Muth-zut. “We must test Muth Mauk’s fitness. It’s our responsibility.”
“That test is rarely done,” said Muth-tok, “and I see no need to do it now.”
“Hai,” said Muth-jan. “Seldom has Muth la’s will been so clearly revealed. Muth Mauk has received many visions. How many have you received, Muth-yat? Only one I’ve heard of, and it revealed that Dargu should be reborn.”
Muth-smat spoke up. “When sickness comes, we use healing magic. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Sometimes, its cure is only partial. Is magic of rebirth any more reliable? I see no certain sign that Muth Mauk is urkzimmuthi. Perhaps she’s only partly so.”
“Or not at all,” said Muth-zut. “I smell washavoki stink.”
“Are you saying washavokis can receive Fathma?” asked Muth-tok.
“Thwa. I suppose they can’t,” replied Muth-zut.
“Then why did you speak so quickly?” asked Muth-tok. “We need wisdom here.”
“I spoke my chest,” said Muth-zut. “I don’t like her looks.”
“Indeed, I am unsightly,” said Dar. “Strange, also. Why would Muth la choose one as strange as me to be your queen? I think it’s because I understand something you don’t—our enemy. Who among you understands washavokis’ minds? Urkzimmuthi are strong and wise, yet washavokis possess our ancient lands. Why? I know, but our tongue doesn’t even have words to explain. Washavokis say ‘lies,’ ‘treachery,’ ‘betrayal,’ and ‘deceit.’ These words are only meaningless sounds to us, with no translations. This summer, two thousand sons died because they didn’t understand my warning. As Muth Mauk, I need not explain, only command.”
“Are we to obey you without understanding?” asked Muth-smat. “I won’t.”
“When Muth-yat’s sister was queen,” said Muth-jan, “she commanded us to send sons to kill for Great Washavoki. We understood and obeyed. How many of those sons have returned to our halls?”
“Perhaps Muth Mauk understands washavokis,” said Muth-mah, “but does she understand urkzimmuthi ways? Among us, muthuris are honored and their words are obeyed. Sons look to their muthuris to guide their chests. Yet I think Muth Mauk would have it otherwise and take some son for herself without his muthuri’s consent.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Muth-yat, as if she didn’t know.
“Kath-mah came to me,” replied Muth-mah. “She was much troubled over her son, Kovok-mah. Muth Mauk wanted him as her velazul. When Kath-mah forbade it, Muth Mauk bit his neck. Is this how she upholds our traditions?”
Muth-smat glared at Dar with disgust. “She should be thwada, not queen.”
“Kovok-mah serves me,” said Dar, “but he serves me in Taiben. Few speak washavoki tongue, but he does. I have honored his muthuri’s commands.”
“Are you not his velazul?” asked Muth-mah.
“We were velazuls until his muthuri forbade it.”
“Did he give you love?” asked Muth-mah.
“We behaved properly.”
Muth-mah pressed on. “Do you wish he would give you daughters?”
“We must be blessed first,” replied Dar. “If that doesn’t happen, my wishes are of no consequence.”
Muth-mah ceased her questioning, but it had had its effect. The look of disgust on Muth-smat’s face had deepened.
Muth-yat spoke up. “There is disagreement. Some among us think that we should test Muth Mauk’s fitness, while others think it’s unnecessary. This matter seems to require stones. Muth Mauk, will you call for them?”
Courtesy required that the call for stones be phrased as a question, but only one answer was permissible. “Hai,” said Dar. “Muth-yat, will you open door?”
Muth-yat bowed and opened the double doors to the Great Chamber, which were closed only when the council was in session. Zna-yat stood outside them. “Bring stones,” Dar commanded.
Zna-yat returned a short while later bearing a black, wide-mouthed pottery vessel. He set it by the throne, bowed, and departed, closing the doors behind him. Muth-yat reached into the vessel and removed the stones it contained. She handed two to each matriarch, one green and one black. Afterward, she spoke. “Muth Mauk, we are uncertain where wisdom lies. Should we give you Muth la’s Draught? Is this test unneeded? These stones will guide us. Do you wish to speak before they decide?”
“Hai,” said Dar. “Muth la has given me many visions. They have guided me. Yet not all have come to pass. This means I still have more tasks to fulfill.”
“If it’s Muth la’s will,” said Muth-yat, “you shall drink and live.”
“Muth la’s Draught is poison,” replied Dar. “Anyone who drinks it dies. Muth la prevents death by calling us to avoid killing.”
“Stones will answer this question,” said Muth-yat. “Black means Muth Mauk is tested. Green means she is not.”
Each matriarch moved apart from the others and turned away so none could see what color she chose. Then each placed her hand in the vessel and dropped a stone. The click of them hitting the pottery was the only sound in the chamber. Muth-yat lifted the vessel and presented it to Dar. “Muth Mauk, will you count the stones?”
Dar reached into the black vessel.
“Green.
“Black.
“Black.
“Green.
“Black.
“Green.
“Black.
“Four black. Three green,” said Dar.
“Stones say Muth Mauk should be tested,” said Muth-yat. “Does this council accept their judgment?”
“Hai,” replied the matriarchs together.
“Then I will submit to your wisdom,” said Dar. “Muth-yat, will you open chamber doors?” Muth-yat did so. Zna-yat was outside. Dar spoke to him. “Zna-yat, have Jvar-yat bring Muth la’s Draught to us.”
As Dar waited to die, memories from the queens who had taken Muth la’s Draught came to her unbidden. It tastes of honey, but bitter. It acts quickly. I’ll be nauseous and gasp for air. When I start to tremble, someone will step forward to receive Fathma. Dar was certain that it would be Muth-yat. Before, when Dar had been near death, she had seen the worthiness of everyone’s spirit. It’ll make no difference this time. I wont be given a choice.
Jvar-yat entered the Great Chamber, interrupting Dar’s thoughts. She bowed very low. “Forgive me, Muth Mauk, Muth la’s Draught is not yet ready. It’s my fault. I drank too much falfhissi at my feast and began steeping seeds too late. More time is required.”
“When will it be ready?” asked Dar.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Dar regarded the matriarchs, whose faces betrayed their mixed reactions. “We’ll meet again then.”
Jvar-yat bowed and departed. Then the matriarchs did the same, leaving Dar alone in the Great Chamber. She gazed through its windows at the surrounding mountains. Falling snow made them fade, so they seemed more like memories of mountains than real. This time tomorrow, all that will remain of me will be memories.
Twenty-eight