Dar knew he was right. That realization was as bleak as any she had experienced. She also saw Kovok-mah’s restraint as proof of his devotion.
“Just hold me, then,” said Dar. “I’m queen. Don’t I deserve some happiness?”
Kovok-mah tenderly enfolded Dar within his arms. “You deserve more than some, yet I can give you only sorrow.”
“That sorrow isn’t your gift. It’s your muthuri’s.”
“I must obey her wisdom, though I understand it not.”
“There’s none to understand,” said Dar, “but that doesn’t alter our law.” Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled not to cry.
Kovok-mah held Dar, all the while wondering if even that meager solace endangered her. The scent of their atur was thick in the cold, dark building. Muth la must forgive us, he thought. W@ve struggled so hard to behave properly. He gently wiped away Dar’s tears, which still seemed novel to him. “We can’t see how things will end,” he whispered. “We may be together yet.”
Dar attempted a smile, knowing that Kovok-mah could see it in the dark, and lightly kissed his forehead. “Then hope must make us happy.”
The cold soon drove Dar from the abandoned barracks back to the warmth where her sister and mintaris waited. She had no doubt her scent betrayed her feelings, but she was equally certain everyone was already aware of them. She went to sleep soon after her return, calming herself with a fantasy in which Kath-mah changed heart and blessed Dar’s union with her son.
A messenger arrived the following morning with an invitation to Queen Girta’s feast, which would commence prior to sunset. Dar spent the morning with her mintaris and her sister, trying to prepare them for the evening ahead. Nagtha-yat was extremely helpful, for he understood what washavoki customs would seem most bizarre to the urkzimmuthi. He told them that washavokis prized their weapons and wearing a sword within a hall wasn’t considered rude. Dar added that she wanted her mintaris to wear theirs. Nagtha-yat also warned that drink at the banquet would be like falfhissi, though it would taste different. “Washavokis seldom bathe,” he cautioned. “Their stench will likely kill your appetites. Yet eat something. It’s considered impolite not to do so.”
Zna-yat bowed. “Muth Mauk, why do you wish us to come? Only Kovok-mah and Nagtha-yat will understand what is spoken.”
“Queen Girta will surround herself with washavokis,” replied Dar. “I want to be surrounded by my kind. I’m proud of you and wish to see you honored.”
“Will washavokis honor us?” asked Zna-yat.
“They should,” replied Dar. “If they don’t, they’ll reveal their hidden thoughts.”
Zna-yat bowed. “I see your wisdom.”
Dar and the others spent the afternoon preparing for the feast. First they bathed. Among orcs, both sexes usually bathed together, though the bathing pool was far too small to accommodate all Dar’s party at once. Kovok-mah avoided washing while Dar was present. After bathing, Dar and Nir-yat braided each other’s hair. They chewed washuthahi seeds to blacken their teeth. Dar applied talmauki to her nails. She also colored her nipples with it, even though her shirt would cover them. As the sun neared the horizon, Dar dressed in her royal raiment. She wore high boots beneath her long neva and a shirt beneath her talmauki kefs. It was dark green, a shade that complemented her kefs and set off the large golden pendant. The ornament was as heavy as it was impressive and Dar donned it only at the last moment. The headband that covered her brand and her crown, a simple gold circlet, completed Dar’s outfit.
Nir-yat wore a rust-colored neva with matching kefs, high boots, and a deep maroon shirt. Dar’s mintaris were all identically garbed in white wool robes that ended at the knees. Dar chose white to contrast with the Queen’s Men’s black. The robes were sleeveless, and short capes covered the sons’ bare arms. Their sword belts and scabbards, contrary to orcish custom, were not treated as mere tools but as articles of attire. Their leather was not only dyed a shade of burgundy, but polished as well. All the sons wore matching burgundy boots.
When everyone was ready, they donned their cloaks and followed Dar into the city. People gathered along the streets to watch Dar and her procession march to the palace gates. Her dignity and bearing made an impression, as did her costly pendant and her formidable escort. The onlookers gazed silently, and when Dar glanced into their eyes, she saw a range of emotions. There was awe and respect, but there was also an abundance of fear and hostility.
Queen Girta was informed of the nature of Dar’s retinue and kept posted on its progress through the city. When Dar approached the palace gates, Girta sent Lokung to meet her. She gazed out a window and watched her steward cross the snowy courtyard. A short while later, he crossed it again, still alone. He soon arrived, out of breath from climbing stairs. “Where’s Dar?” asked the queen.
“Your Majesty, I told her of your welcome and then stated that the banquet was for her alone.”
“And?”
“She replied that she was unaware tonight’s occasion was an intimate dinner between two monarchs.”
“Did you tell her that it’s indeed a feast?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Lokung. “She said, in that case, she would extend courtesy in kind and bid you journey to her hall to dine alone among her followers. After that, she stated that she expected royal treatment for both her and her retinue. Then she added that if she did not receive it, she would withdraw her guards and leave.”
“How did you reply?”
“In truth, Your Majesty, I was dumbfounded by her insolence. Then she said that if none could speak the Orcish tongue, I should address your orc guards myself and say these words ‘Futh Muth Mauk pahak sutuk. Kutuk ma,’ and then lead them to her.”
Girta turned to General Kol. “Do you understand that Orcish?”
“Not entirely,” said Kol. “‘Muth Mauk’ means Great Mother and ‘sutuk’ means ‘come.’ I think ‘Kutuk ma’ is ‘Follow me.’”
Girta addressed her steward. “Then say those words to my orc guards, so I’ll be rid of them.”
“No!” said Kol a little too loudly, adding “Your Majesty” only as an afterthought. Apparently chagrined by his outburst, he bowed humbly to the queen. “Pardon my ferventness, but I fear that would play into Dar’s hands. Wouldn’t it be better to feast her and discover her mind?”
Girta sighed. “Even if that means receiving all her brutes?”
“The Queen’s Men will keep a watchful eye. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
When the palace gates opened, Dar was uncertain who would appear—hostile soldiers, two dismissed orc guards, or Girta’s mealymouthed steward. Though she would have preferred to avoid the banquet, she was relieved to see the steward rather than soldiers. The game’s still on, she thought.
Lokung bowed low. “My humblest apologies, Your Majesty. Poor fool that I am, I misspoke my queen’s words. Of course she wished to honor all your party. I will lead you and them to the banquet hall.”
Dar suppressed a smile at the steward’s blatant lie. “I’m pleased she caught your error. Lead the way.”
While working in the palace kitchen, Dar had brought food to the banquet hall, but she had reached it by the hidden servant passageway. She had never entered the large and opulent hall via its grand doorway. As she stepped through the carved and gilded portal, Lokung called out in a booming voice, “Muth Mauk, Queen of the Orcs, and Friend and Ally to Our Gracious Majesty!”
The room was filled with people, and all of them turned their eyes toward Dar. Dar returned their gaze and quickly spotted Girta standing in the most prominent spot. Next to her was a man dressed in black and gold. Dar recognized him. Murdant Kol! Then she corrected herself General Kol, the Queen’s Man.