Queen Girta gazed out the window at Taiben’s rooftops. After the previous night’s snowfall, the city appeared pristine under a cloudless sky. I u^ to love winter, she thought. That was before her late husband had taken to warfare. Then winter became a pause between campaigns, a time when drunken men caroused and boasted of bloody deeds. Girta had come to feel that cold weather transformed the palace into a kennel for vicious dogs. But worse than them was the mage, whose ominous presence oppressed the entire court.
The demise of her husband and his sorcerer should have ushered in more peaceful times, but Girta felt they hadn’t. Instead of the mage, there were orcs, who seemed equally menacing. Rumors of plots bedeviled her, and a string of misfortunes had overcome her closest confidants. Lady Rowena, Girta’s friend from childhood, had been strangled by a deranged servant. General Gotha’s wife had committed suicide, and Lord Nothur’s spouse had suffered a fatal fall. All three women had always provided support and useful insights. Others were gone as well. Military officers, noblemen, and counselors had perished by mischance or random acts of violence. All were good men. Even Girta’s lady’s maid had been murdered by a lover. It had been a trying winter.
The queen’s bulwark against her fears and misfortunes was General Kol. He was always self-assured, and she had come to depend on him. Sometimes Girta felt that she depended on him too much. There was occasionally something in his manner that sparked her resentment, a condescension that appeared at unguarded moments. These usually occurred when she was speaking to the prince and took the form of a look on Kol’s part. It seemed to say, “Ignore your mother’s foolishness.” I shouldn’t think like that, Girta told herself General Kol’s my protector. No wonder my son adores him.
A knock interrupted Girta’s musings, and the door opened before she could respond. General Kol entered and bowed. “Your Majesty, another orc has abandoned your guard. The Queen’s Men saw him leave this morning.”
“Did they find out why he left?”
“They just let him pass, as per orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Mine,” replied Kol, his face bland. “It’s part of our plan.”
“Oh yes,” said Girta, wondering what plan he was talking about.
“To lure out Dar. We won’t know what she’s plotting until she comes to Taiben.”
“What makes you think she’ll come?”
“She’ll come because she’s about to learn her scheme has fallen apart,” said Kol. Girta shot him a puzzled look and he elaborated. “Moving the orcs outside the palace thwarted her chance for a surprise attack.”
“There are still two of her fiends outside my door day and night!”
“We’ve been over this before,” said Kol. “If we banished the orcs altogether, Dar would know we’re wary. Instead, we’ve improved their accommodations, which happen to lie outside the city. Just you wait. Dar will betray her intentions. She’ll arrive to persuade you to move her orcs back into the palace.”
“It’s a clever trap,” said Girta, “but I feel like the bait.”
“The Queen’s Men spy on those two orcs from hidden places, ready to burst forth and cut them down at the first false move.”
“Still, I abhor all this trickery.”
“Would you rather go to war?” asked Kol. “Shouldn’t we try to snare Dar in her own noose before it comes to that?”
“You’re right, as usual,” said Girta.
Kol moved to her side. “I only want to keep you safe.” He lightly placed his fingers upon her hand, which rested on the windowsill. It was the first time he had ever presumed to touch her, and the contact was tentative. Girta didn’t protest, so Kol’s left his fingers where they were.
Kovok-mah’s message arrived at the Yah clan hall the following day. When Dar read it, her anger toward Kol, which had simmered ever since she had used the Tracing Stone, flared hot again. It was clear that Kol was already unraveling her treaty. Dar agreed with Kovok-mah that two orc guards were insufficient protection. Girta’s a fool, she thought. Her orcs were unshakably loyal, and she’s replaced them with Kol’s minions. Dar was irritated that the orcs had so passively submitted to the change. However, she forgave them, for it was their nature to obey mothers. The irony didn’t escape her. They submitted to Girta as Girta submitted to Kol.
Kol’s rise within the court still surprised and perplexed Dar. As far as she knew, murdants never became officers. She assumed he had some powerful friends, but she couldn’t imagine who. The Queen’s Man had been killed when the orcs attacked Taiben. Who else could Kol have known? It seemed a mystery that only she had hopes of solving. The orcs would be useless in unraveling such intrigue.
Dar wanted to go to Taiben immediately, but she restrained herself until everything was ready. Her and Nir-yat’s clothing were completed first. Nir-yat worked with Thorma-yat on the final details of the shirts. They fit well and looked good to Dar’s eye. The design for the pendant was a broad-crowned yew, the tree sacred to Muth la. Once it was cast, a wide talmauki ribbon was specially woven to suspend it. Dar consulted with the lorekeeper about both the New and Old roads to Taiben and studied deetpahis that mapped their routes. She also ensured that all her mintaris had arms, armor, and new woolen robes, since she wanted them to accompany her. She expanded their number by biting the necks of the two Goth clan candidates and Treen-pah.
After those preparations were complete, Dar had to delay leaving until sons from the Tok clan arrived. They would stand ready to seal the pass if she gave the order. They came, nearly fifty strong, burdened by their heavy tools and accompanied by some Tok clan mothers. After Dar saw to their accommodation, she announced that she would depart for Taiben the following day. By then, all the matriarchs except Muth-pah had left for their halls.
The evening before departure, Dar spoke to her traveling party. She told them that she wanted to ensure that the washavokis’ queen desired peace. She didn’t explain her concerns, for she was certain only Zna-yat could possibly grasp them. What Dar feared most was Kol’s treachery. Aware of his cunning, she thought it was likely that he had a trap waiting for her. Nevertheless, she was resolved to face him. I’ve beaten him twice before, Dar told herself. I’ll beat him this time, too.
Kol’s secret benefactor lay on a soft feather bed within his darkened room, incapable of rest. Othar was tormented. Though his charred flesh no longer pained him, he was afflicted by the knowledge that his body wasn’t wholly his. Whatever had possessed the magic bones possessed him. It gave him extraordinary powers, but the price was dear.
Unnatural needs governed the sorcerer. He craved bloodshed. He craved it with the same single-mindedness that a parched man wants water and for the same reason—he needed it to survive. Without slaughter to sustain it, his possessor would shuck him like a soiled glove. That terrified the mage, for he had an inkling of what nightmare being would be waiting for him on the Dark Path. Thus the sorcerer dedicated all his powers to helping Kol provoke a war.
There were signs he was succeeding. Othar had acquired some of the bones’ powers of premonition. He sensed forces on the move, and knew events were approaching fruition. The mage had misty glimpses of massed soldiers. Snow swirled about them, colored red by sheets of billowing flame.