Dar knew Kol would be at the banquet, but that didn’t lessen her reaction. She felt a jolt of fear and rage. Her face flushed red as anger got the upper hand. All the orcs smelled it and glanced at her. Dar took a deep breath to compose herself. Only when she looked outwardly calm did she meet Kol’s eyes. They were as inscrutable as ever. Dar headed toward Girta, walking gracefully and forcing herself to smile.
Girta smiled back even less sincerely than Dar. “Muth Mauk,” she said. “You look miraculously well, considering you were dying when I saw you last.”
“Such is the power of the World’s Mother,” replied Dar. “It seems she had more plans for me.”
“I’m delighted by your recovery,” said Girta. “As is General Kol. I believe you two have met.”
“We have,” replied Dar. “General, has your shoulder healed?”
Kol’s face darkened, but his expression and voice remained calm. “It has. So kind of you to ask.”
“Your Majesty,” said Dar. “Let me introduce my sister, Nir-yat.” She turned and said, “Sutat, Muthana, tep tavat washavoki nathmauki.” Come, Sister, and greet washavoki queen.
Nir-yat advanced and bowed. “Grut-tinz, Grat Muther.”
“Greetings,” replied Girta. She gave Dar a puzzled look. “How did you acquire an orcish sister?”
“The urkzimmuthi know magic that transforms one’s spirit. It’s called ‘theemuth,’ which means ‘rebirth.’ A mother underwent this magic with me, making me her child. Her children became my siblings. I also have a brother here.”
“So you changed yourself through sorcery?” asked Girta.
“Rebirth is unlike the magic once practiced here.”
“Yet, as I recall, Othar was slain by magic,” said Girta.
“That was his magic, not mine.”
“So you don’t practice sorcery yourself,” said Girta. “You only benefit from it.”
Dar chose not to respond, and instead introduced her mintaris. Each greeted the queen by reciting the phrase he had memorized, except for Kovok-mah and Nagtha-yat, who were fluent in the human tongue. Their greetings were more eloquent. Nagtha-yat told Girta that he had visited the palace during the reign of Kregant I and praised the old monarch’s love for peace. Kovok-mah expressed a hope that friendship would follow understanding.
Girta didn’t reciprocate by introducing members of her court. Dar feigned to be oblivious of the slight. An awkward silence followed until Dar decided to bait Kol. “So, Queen’s Man, how does a murdant become a general in only three moons? That must be a tale worth hearing.”
“The Queen’s Man was a tolum when he first came to court,” said Girta.
“A rise equally astonishing,” answered Dar. “When I last knew him, he was but a murdant and meek as a mouse before Tolum Karg.”
Kol glared at Dar, but said nothing.
“Oh don’t be bashful, Murdant,” said Dar. “You’ve cleaned up well. If only Loral and Neena could see you now! They’d feel honored that you had tupped them.”
Kol’s face reddened but he remained silent.
“You’ll gain nothing by bringing up your past,” said Girta. “General Kol has told me your history.”
Dar laughed. “I’m sure he has, and I blush to imagine the nature of his lies. He once lied to me as well, saying his only wish was to protect me. Has he told you that, too?”
“I see a crown hasn’t changed your slattern’s nature,” said Kol, his voice cold, yet clearly angry.
Dar grinned. “Why, Murdant, court life has made you soft. You used to hide your feelings better. I believed your claim that you spared your daughter. But perhaps drowning her didn’t upset you.”
“Don’t malign my friend,” said Girta.
“Friend?” replied Dar. “Your Majesty, beware of such friends. An adder charms the bird before it strikes.”
Thirty-four
The rest of the evening was as dreadful as Dar had expected. Queen Girta interrupted Dar and Kol’s sparring by taking her place at the head table. Dar was seated to the left of the queen, who ignored her throughout the meal to dote on her son. He sat to Girta’s right. General Kol’s place was next to the prince, obviously a position of honor. A military man, who introduced himself as General Voltar, sat to Dar’s left. He seemed principally interested in getting drunk as quickly as possible, a feat he readily accomplished.
It had been a long time since Dar had dined among a crowd of humans, and she found their odor nauseating. Girta, resplendent in a gown of scarlet and gold, had a musky scent with fishy overtones. General Voltar reeked like spoiled meat. Nevertheless, Dar forced herself to eat. She drank sparingly of the wine, knowing that she’d better keep her wits about her. Being deprived of meaningful conversation, Dar used her powers of observation to learn what she could.
The first person who drew her attention was the prince. He was still a child—Dar guessed he was perhaps eight—but he seemed to be trying to act a man. Like General Kol, he was dressed in black and gold, though his attire had more gold in it. The similarity of the prince’s and the general’s apparel bothered Dar, for she thought it was intentional. Kol’s closeness with the future monarch disturbed her more. Watching Kol and the boy chat easily together, it was evident they were on very good terms. In comparison, Girta seemed slighted by her son.
The queen impressed Dar as insecure. I think I frighten her, she thought. I fear to think what Kol’s b^ telling her. Queen Girta’s mood seemed reflected in her court. Dar had only glimpsed one royal banquet when she served in the palace, but she recalled it as different from the present feast. For one thing, it was better-attended and the diners were livelier. One aspect hadn’t changed: Though the mage was gone, a black-garbed figure still sat at the head table. It seemed to Dar that Kol’s personality
influenced the court as much as Othar’s had. He has power. I can see it in the way others look at him.
None of Dar’s party had been seated at the head table. They sat together in isolation. It was another slight, but Dar suspected they were happier with the arrangement. She felt sorry for them as they stoically picked at their food, and she wished the “festivities” would soon be over. As the meal wound down, Dar waited until Kol was engaged with the prince, then gently grasped Girta’s hand. The queen started, but Dar held firm.
“I fear this pomp-filled night has made a poor beginning to our relations,” said Dar. “Yet know I long for peace and think your safety is its best assurance. Can I meet with you tomorrow? I wish to speak to you, woman-to-woman, without the General present. I’ll open my heart so you might see my intentions.”
Girta tried to pull her hand away. “Please!” said Dar. “I’ll come alone.”
“All right,” said Girta, her voice betraying her reluctance. “Come at noon. Alone.”
Dar bowed as she released Girta’s hand. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You’ll be glad you agreed.”
The banquet ended soon after Dar spoke to Girta. There was a formal exchange of courtesies between the monarchs at the night’s conclusion, but no further conversation. All Dar’s hopes centered on the next day’s meeting. When she departed the palace, she was as uncertain about the future as when she arrived.
Dar walked through Taiben’s empty streets until she reached the town’s gates. They were closed for the night, but the Queen’s Men opened them to let her and the orcs pass. Once she was outside the city walls, Dar breathed in the clean air and sighed. “I’m glad that’s over,” she said.
“How were you received?” asked Zna-yat.
“Fearfully,” replied Dar. “Queen’s fear is what I must overcome.”
“How?” asked Zna-yat.
“I’ll meet alone with her.”
“Is that safe?” asked Kovok-mah.
“You’ll be alone,” said Zna-yat, “but washavoki queen will not. Our last great mother was imprisoned in that palace.”