“And so you were, Daughter. I never said Kath-mah would bless you. I said I hoped she would.”
Dar’s recollection was distinctly different. I never would have gone to Taiben if I’d known the truth. As she gazed at her muthuri, she had the unsettling suspicion that she had been tricked.
“Love clouds judgment,” said Zor-yat. “Your chest overruled your mind, and you heard what you wished to hear.”
Dar wanted to believe her muthuri, but she didn’t. Nevertheless, she felt it would be unwise to say so. “You speak wisdom,” she said, inclining her head as a dutiful daughter. Zor-yat looked pleased and left soon afterward.
The visit had exhausted Dar, and she retired to the mattress in her sleeping chamber. Deen-yat was waiting there, so Dar feigned sleep. She felt both disappointed and disturbed. She had hoped that her reunion with her muthuri would be like her rebirth, when Zor-yat had cradled her and proclaimed to all that Dar was her child. That loving moment had not been repeated. Instead, Dar was certain that her muthuri had lied to her.
In light of that realization, Dar saw herself as Zor-yat and Muth-yat’s pawn. Both had understood her visions. They knew Othar was Dar’s enemy and didn’t warn her. Dar concluded that Zor-yat had been right—feelings had clouded her judgment. Her desire to be a part of Zor-yat’s family had blinded her. Dar wondered why Zor-yat had become her muthuri. She suspected it involved the crown.
If that’s the case, who’ll teach me how to rule? Dar assumed Zor-yat’s advice would be self-serving at best. And Muth-yat’s her sister. Does she want the crown, too? It seemed likely. Dar knew that both mothers commanded obedience, and whatever she said—regardless to whom—would likely reach their ears. She could trust Zna-yat; his loyalty was absolute. But Zna-yat was a son, and sons knew little about wielding authority. Besides, he was in Taiben. Dar recalled her dream about entering darkness. It suddenly felt like a portent. I’m lost, all right. And completely alone.
“Don’t visit your sister today,” said Zor-yat to Nir-yat. “She’s too ill to receive more visitors.”
“Hai, Muthuri,” said Nir-yat. “Your news saddens me.”
“I understand. You two are close. I think she’ll be better tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
“I should warn you—that magic has gravely harmed her. You’ll know that when you see her wound. Dargu isn’t well. Neither is she prepared to rule.”
“But I’ve heard...”
“Don’t question my wisdom!”
Nir-yat bowed her head. “Hai, Muthuri.”
“Tomorrow when you speak with your sister, encourage her to pass on Fathma. She intended to do so earlier, but her strength failed her. Now that’s she’s recovering, she should fulfill her intention. Dargu is newly reborn—a child really. Can you see her facing Council of Matriarchs?”
“She’d find it difficult,” said Nir-yat.
“More than difficult. Catastrophic. Dargu received Fathma because she was only mother in Taiben. It was chance, not Muth la’s will. If she remains great mother, it’ll cause trouble. Another should rule.”
Upon hearing those words, Nir-yat grew alarmed. “But afterward...”
“Dargu need not know about that. It would frighten her into making poor choice. I forbid you to tell her. Do you understand?”
Nir-yat bowed yet again. “I understand, Muthuri.”
Four
Dar received no further visitors for the remainder of the day. After she ate the evening meal, she called Deen-yat to her. “I feel much better. You needn’t spend night with me.”
Deen-yat bowed. “Shashav, Muth Mauk. It would please me to sleep in my own hanmuthi. But you must promise to do nothing foolish.”
Dar smiled. “I’ll try not to.”
“Then I’ll depart. There are always sons outside your hanmuthi. You need only clap and they’ll attend to any need.” Deen-yat bowed again.
“Go with my gratitude.”
“I’ll see you in morning. Sleep well, Muth Mauk.”
After Deen-yat left, Dar rose and paced slowly about her grand but empty hanmuthi. It was far larger than Zor-yat’s, which housed three generations. Dar gazed at the vacant sleeping chambers, feeling lonely. Again, she briefly saw sons and mothers in them. Are these memories bestowed by Fathma? Ghosts? An effect of my poisoning? All Dar knew for certain was that the images were growing more real and occurring more frequently. She thought of the generations that had lived within the space where she stood and felt like an interloper. She wondered if her muthuri was right and another should dwell in the hanmuthi. Yet Dar couldn’t imagine who.
When Nir-yat arrived the following morning and saw Dar’s wound, she lost all decorum. She ran to Dar and embraced her, all the while making a keening sound deep in her throat. Dar’s eyes teared when she realized her sister was crying. “I’m all right, Nir,” she said, stroking Nir-yat’s thick hair. “I’m healing.
My wound looks worse than it feels.”
Nir-yat calmed. When she drew back to examine Dar, her mood changed. She grinned to see the gold band upon Dar’s head. “Baby sister’s Muth Mauk!”
“Baby? I’ve twenty-five winters. That makes me older than you.”
“Thwa. Those winters don’t count. You were reborn this summer, so this is your first winter. You belong on Muthuri’s teat.”
“Next time I’m hungry, I’ll tell her you said so.”
The remark made Nir-yat hiss. Dar hissed also, as naturally as if she had laughed that way all her life. “It pleases me to see you, Nir. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Thir does also.” Nir-yat smiled. “She especially misses our room. Muthuri moved us from window chamber as soon as you left for Taiben.”
Because she didn’t expect me to return, thought Dar, who kept that assumption to herself. “Where is Thir? I thought she’d be coming with you.”
“She’s at Tok clan hall.” Nir-yat grinned. “She has velazul there.”
“Is it serious?” asked Dar, glad that her sister finally had a lover.
“She walked there in this weather. What do you think?”
“But he would be her first velazul!”
Dar’s sister smiled. “I remember saying same thing to you about Kovok-mah.” One glance at Dar’s face made Nir-yat regret her words. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you still cared for him.”
“I shouldn’t,” said Dar. “Kath-mah won’t bless us.”
“Yet head doesn’t rule chest. I’m sad for you.”
“Did Muthuri tell you of our speech together?” said Dar, eager to speak of something else. “Do you know what happened in Taiben?”
“Hai. But speak of our brother. Why does he remain there?”
“Zna-yat’s there to enforce my will. Sons will guard new washavoki queen, but they won’t kill for her.”
“Does that mean they’ll no longer die in battles?”
“Hai.”
“That’s joyful news! You accomplished much!”
“You seemed surprised,” said Dar. “Didn’t Muthuri tell you?”
“Thwa. She thinks you’re unfit to rule.”
“Perhaps she’s right. I know little about being great mother. Another may be more suited.” “I must tell you story,” said Nir-yat. “Story about Grandmother.”
Nir-yat’s abrupt change of subject puzzled Dar, as did her note of urgency. “What is this story?”
“Grandmother was great mother before Zeta-yat. I was close to her. She visited old washavoki king often, and would have taught me washavoki speech had not Muthuri objected.” Nir-yat gave Dar a meaningful look. “Muthuri dislikes washavokis.” Then she resumed her story. “Five winters ago, Grandmother grew ill. Water filled her lungs, and Deen-yat said she would soon join Muth la. It’s said that great mothers see with Muth la’s eyes as death approaches, so they can know who should become next queen. Grandmother chose Zeta-yat, same great mother who chose you.”