[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter (21 page)

“Lucky you,” said Thir-yat. “It was fourteen winters before I received Muth la’s Gift.”

Dar, who had never considered her period a “gift,” was puzzled. “Why am I lucky?”

“You’ll be grown-up,” said Nir-yat.

“And get your tattoo,” added Thir-yat.

“Will it hurt?” asked Dar.

“Muthuri says it’s no worse than childbirth,” said Nir-yat.

“Neither is it better,” said Thir-yat. “Ayee! How my face swelled up!”

Nir-yat hissed. “She looked like berry.”

“Now I’m sweet and juicy,” said Thir-yat.

“In your dreams,” retorted Nir-yat. “No son has given you love.”

“That’s what
you
think,” replied Thir-yat. “Remember this spring, when we visited Muthuri’s brother?”

“Hai,” said Nir-yat, “and I saw you leave with that son. But I smelled no atur afterward.”

“He wasn’t pleasing,” replied Thir-yat.

“Then it wasn’t love-giving,” replied Nir-yat. She turned to Dar. “Don’t worry, Dargu. Son wasn’t Kovok-mah.”

“What about our cousin?” asked Thir-yat.

“Tell me more about tattoos,” said Dar quickly. She reached out and touched the design on Nir-yat’s chin. The black markings were slightly raised. Each clan had a distinctive tattoo that its sons and mothers received when they reached adulthood.

“Muthuri will take you to latath after you receive Gift,” said Nir-yat. “Latath will make clan mark. It takes whole day. You must show strength to prove your fitness. Lie still and don’t cry out.”

“Jvar-yat is latath here,” said Thir-yat. “She’s very skilled.”

Dar looked at her sisters’ chins and appreciated Jvar-yat’s handiwork. The tattoos were a pattern of swirls falling from a line that marked the edge of the lower lip. They reminded Dar of waterfalls. Despite the intricacy of their pattern, both tattoos were perfectly identical.

Dar received her clan tattoo a week after she was reborn. The procedure was part ceremony, with Muth-yat, Zor-yat, and her family chanting prayers for a long and happy life. Dar lay outdoors on a wooden bench, as Jvar-yat bestowed the mark of the Yat clan using thorns dipped in a black paste. Dar’s lip and chin were pricked over a thousand times, and each time stung. By sunset, her lower face felt on fire.

That night, Dar sucked a liquid meal through a hollow tube, for her face was too swollen to take nourishment otherwise. While she lay awake in the dark, Nir-yat tried to comfort her. “You’ll be glad you’re marked,” she whispered, “when you see your velazul.”

“Wnnph,” replied Dar.

“I know your feelings. We’ll visit him.”

“Kumm?”

“We’ll talk soon.”

Twenty-four

When Dar’s face was no longer swollen, she wanted to see it. Orcs disdained mirrors, so Dar sought out a pool to view her tattoo. She found one in a sunny courtyard. The pool was in a basin carved from black basalt, which made it more reflective. Dar leaned over the basin’s edge and was shocked by what she saw.

The face peering back was ugly. All its proportions seemed off—the brow was too delicate, the bridge of the nose wasn’t sharp, and the chin was rounded. Worst were the brown eyes; they resembled those of rats. Dar touched her cheek to confirm that the grotesque thing reflected in the water was truly her. It was. Only her black teeth looked right. They were enhanced by her beautiful tattoo. Dar traced its lines with her fingers, imagining Kovok-mah doing the same.
He loves me despite my looks.
Still, she was glad for her pretty new feature.

“I thought I’d find you here,” said a voice.

Dar turned and saw Nir-yat. “After I was tattooed, I came here often,” said Nir-yat. She sniffed the air and smiled “Are you thinking of your velazul?”

Dar’s first impulse was to deny that she had a lover, but she checked herself. Instead, she asked, “How did you know?”

“I have nose. Besides, you told me.”

“I did?”

“Falfhissi loosens tongues,” said Nir-yat.

“So Muthuri knows, too?”

“I doubt it, little sister.”

“I should speak to her,” said Dar. “I wish to become blessed.”

“You’re rushing matters. Is Kovok-mah your first velazul?”

Dar recalled her suitors in the highlands. None would qualify as a lover. The only man she had ever kissed had been Sevren, and that had been just once. “Hai,” she said. “Kovok-mah is first.”

“Did he give you love?”

“Hai.”

“That’s no reason to think of blessing,” said Nir-yat. “Don’t talk to Muthuri yet. See Kovok-mah, instead. I visit his hall often. I’ll take you with me.”

“When?”

“As soon as you like.”

“Tomorrow?”

Nir-yat hissed softly. “My, you
are
eager.”

The following day, Dar and Nir-yat left to visit the Mah clan hall. Such visits were common and no one seemed surprised when Nir-yat announced that she was bringing her new sister along. After packing some extra clothes and a few provisions, the two departed in the morning.

Once on the road, Nir-yat plied Dar with all manner of gossip. Dar heard about the queen’s mysterious illness that only the washavoki mage could treat and how her long absence cast a pall over the entire clan. She learned why the queen backed her elder sister in the contentious election for Yat clan matriarch. Dar was told who chewed too much washuthahi; who was happy with their spouse and who wasn’t; which sons went off to kill for the queen and which sons died for her; who was giving love to whom; and who was honored and who was in disrepute. Dar learned the story of Harz-yat, a mother who became thwada and lived alone for fifty winters. Dar found out that Jvar-yat honed her skills by tattooing piglets sedated with falfhissi. She also learned that when Gar-yat refused to bless her son’s velazul, he joined the orc regiment and died in battle.

Nir-yat did more than gossip. At times, she spoke to Dar as an older sister. “Kovok-mah’s your first velazul,” she said. “It’s too early to think about getting blessed.”

“Only Kovok-mah will ever care for me,” said Dar. “Without him, I’ll spend my life alone.”

“You don’t know future.”

“I know my chest is empty without him.”

“So enjoy his company, and keep his muthuri out of it.”

“But…”

“That way, you can see him. Once Kath-mah’s involved, she’ll decide that.”

“Why would she forbid it? I’m urkzimmuthi now.”

“Muthuris want granddaughters,” replied Nir-yat.

Dar’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Perhaps it’s no problem,” said Nir-yat. “I know nothing about magic. Maybe if you’re reborn, you can have children.”

Dar doubted it. In fact, the idea that she could get pregnant unsettled her.

“Don’t be glum, Dargu. Muthuris look other way until things get serious. While flowers bloom, think not of winter.”

Dar resolved to follow her sister’s advice, and found it easy on a journey where anticipation heightened the pleasure of hiking. Their way wound between green mountains with peaks colored by the reds and golds of autumn. The brisk air was perfect for walking, and the pair traveled far before stopping for the night. They stayed in a hall of a distant relative. She had heard of Dar’s rebirth and was pleased to meet her. That evening, Dar told her tale, holding everyone spellbound. Once again, she was encouraged by her unquestioning acceptance.

Dar and Nir-yat reached Mah clan territory the next afternoon. It covered the southern side of a mountain furrowed by a network of ridges. The ridgetops were covered with terraced fields, and the hollows were used to pasture sheep and goats.

“Listen,” said Nir-yat when they neared the mountainside. “Hear different tones of bells?”

Dar cocked her ear. “I think so.”

“Each tone marks different flock.” Nir-yat listened intently. “That’s cousin Kovok’s bell.” She pointed toward a hollow to the left. “He’s grazing his goats there today.”

Dar rushed in its direction. “Let’s go!”

Nir-yat hurried to keep up, grinning as she went. The ground grew steep, forcing Dar to slow down. Soon, she was panting. “Only goats belong here.”

“And sons who herd them,” said Nir-yat. She gazed up the grassy hollow and spotted something. “Hide, Dargu! Quick!” After Dar scurried behind a bush, Nir-yat called out. “Tava, Cousin Kovok!”

From her hiding place, Dar heard footsteps. Then Kovok-mah answered. “Tava, father’s sister’s daughter. Why have you journeyed here?”

“Muthuri has new daughter.”

“Yet another? Muth la has blessed her.”

“I’ve brought her here to show you.”

“That’s long journey for one so young.”

Nir-yat grinned. “She’s big for her age. Will you see her? She’s behind bush.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, Dar stepped from her hiding place. Kovok-mah froze. “Dargu?”

“I’m Dargu-yat, now. I’ve been reborn.”

Kovok-mah bounded down the slope, halting just before Dar. “How’s that possible?”

“Magic,” said Dar as she grasped Kovok-mah’s hand and brushed it across the front of her kef. “I’ve become urkzimmuthi.”

Kovok-mah reached out and traced the lines of Dar’s tattoo, but not in the way she had imagined. He seemed unable to believe his eyes and compelled to confirm such a miracle by touch. “Surely, this is Muth la’s doing,” he said in an awed voice.

“Hai,” said Dar.

Before she could say more, Kovok-mah embraced her, lifted her up, and breathed in deeply. Dar threw her arms about his neck as he savored her scent.

“Dargu. Dargu. Dargu,” he said in a low voice that mingled joy and wonder. “You’ve changed, yet you’re same. I don’t understand.”

“You’ve always understood,” replied Dar. “You saw urkzimmuthi in me before anyone else. If it wasn’t there, magic would have failed.”

Kovok-mah smiled. “I’m glad I was so wise.” Still holding Dar’s torso with one arm, he swung his other arm beneath her knees and lifted them so she was cradled in a nearly horizontal position. Dar giggled as he began to plant orcish kisses all over her face and neck.

This prelude to giving love was interrupted by Nir-yat. “Cousin Kovok,” she said, “Dargu walked two days to see you. She can manage to walk to your hut. I’ll watch your goats.”

Kovok-mah set Dar on her feet, bowed to his cousin, and led Dar to his hut. It was located in a small hollow with steep sides that formed a natural corral. A high fence of interwoven branches enclosed the hollow’s entrance and a wooden shelter for the goats lay at its rear. Kovok-mah’s hut was next to it—a tiny, windowless stone structure with a hide flap for a door. It didn’t look much larger than the reed shelter he carried on his back when he fought for the king. The goats seemed to have better accommodations.

Dar strode across the muddy ground and entered the hut. The opening was so low she had to stoop, and its interior was spare. A mat of woven reeds on the earthen floor, some pegs in the wall, and a small fireplace were the sole amenities. When Kovok-mah entered, their two bodies nearly filled it. Dar barely noticed. She was with her love, and only that mattered.

The sun was low by the time the two lovers had spent their passion. Dar dressed and gazed about the shadowed hollow. Goats had stripped all its greenery. The air smelled of them and their manure. “
This
is where you live?”

“Hai.”

“All alone?”

“I have my goats.”

“Who serves you food?”

“I must serve myself.”

“I’ll stay and serve you.”

“This place is unfit for mother,” replied Kovok-mah.

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“But you’re urkzimmuthi now,” said Kovok-mah. “Our mothers live in halls. Did you see any at our camps? Even in Taiben, there are none.”

“I doesn’t matter,” said Dar, “as long as you’re here.”

“It matters, Dargu-yat, because it will matter to my muthuri.”

The resignation in Kovok-mah’s voice disquieted Dar. It reminded her of when she had warned him of the ambush in the Vale of Pines.
He knows there’s trouble ahead and feels powerless before it.

Nir-yat proved an inept goat herder. When Kovok-mah found her, his goats were scattered over the mountainside. Nevertheless, he thanked her before he hurried off to round them up. Dar watched him scramble up the slope, captivated by his grace and power. “You must have had good time,” said Nir-yat. “Your atur overpowers smell of goats.”