[Queen of Orcs 02] - Clan Daughter (10 page)

As Dar explored with the orcs, a pattern to the house became apparent. A main passageway snaked through the structure connecting a series of large, circular rooms, each featuring a hearth. Smaller rooms branched off from those. Kovok-mah explained that a room with a hearth was called a “hanmuthi”—
fire of mother
—and it was the center of a family’s daily life. The adjoining rooms were primarily used for sleeping. On the house’s second floor, they found a hanmuthi that was particularly grand. Its floor was mostly clear of litter and a series of large windows admitted ample light and air. Above the hearth was a hole in the ceiling surrounded by the remnants of a metal chimney.

“This is good place to rest,” said Dar, who had grown accustomed to making decisions.

Usually, the orcs set up camp by marking off the Embrace of Muth la. This time, they behaved differently. Duth-tok and Lama-tok wandered into one of the small adjoining rooms and Varz-hak and Zna-yat entered another. Dar was left standing with Kovok-mah. “Should we not mark circle?” she asked.

“Walls of hanmuthi form Muth la’s Embrace,” said Kovok-mah.

“So we can sleep anywhere?”

“Hai. Everywhere is within sacred circle.”

Dar glanced at the empty chambers, feeling reluctant to enter any of them. “I’m not used to sleeping alone,” she said.

“This is fearful journey,” said Kovok-mah. “Your nearness brings me comfort.”

“Then let us rest together.”

An adjoining room lit by windows attracted Dar. She entered it, and Kovok-mah followed. Upon its walls was a relief showing children running unclothed through a field of flowers. Someone had gouged their faces, reducing them to shallow craters in the limestone. Yet, even in its marred state, the relief was a beautiful work of art. The flowers were carved with delicate detail and the running children seemed alive and joyful. Only the claws on their fingers and toes marked them as urkzimmuthi.

Dar noticed a line of curious marks beneath the relief. “What are those?” she asked.

“Words,” said Kovok-mah, pointing to them as he read.

“Laughter echoes not

In soft spring fields.

Flowers always return.

Children visit only once.”

Dar had heard of reading, but had never seen anyone do it. She was unsure which astonished her more—that Kovok-mah had read those lines or that they had moved him so deeply. His eyes were mournful as his fingers caressed the exquisitely worked forms.

“I think urkzimmuthi are like these children,” he said. “When we depart, no one will recall our faces.”

“Why do you speak of departing?” asked Dar.

“This empty place shows how we’ve dwindled. When we are gone, who will remember us? To washavokis, we are only monsters.”

Dar thought of Leela, who had killed herself rather than face orcs, and guiltily recalled the gruesome tales she had told Theena. Beholding Kovok-mah’s sorrow made Dar want to ease it. “Thwa, Thwa,” she said softly. “You are gentle and good. I am washavoki and…”

“Thwa! You are not.”

“I am. My teeth are white like dog’s.”

“So? Now mine are also.”

“I smell.”

“I like your scent.”

“Look at me! What do you see?”

“Dargu, why do you speak like this? You are mother…seer…guide. Your chest is not washavoki, and chest is most important.”

“My chest wishes you were not sad,” said Dar.

Kovok-mah smiled wanly. “Then I must strive to be happy.”

Dar dreamed of Velasa-pah. He sat silently upon the floor of the room where she and Kovok-mah slept, watching her with an expectant look on his face. When Dar asked what he wanted, he crumbled to dust. The image was so disturbing that it woke her.

Dar was sitting in Kovok-mah’s lap. She had grown accustomed to the orcish upright sleeping position, but it was comfortable only because Kovok-mah supported her. Dozing folded in his arms was preferable to lying on the ground, and Kovok-mah liked her to do so. It calmed him. Dar recalled a doll of twisted straw that one of her little half sisters took to bed, and imagined she served a similar function. The idea made her smile.

Vines draped over the room’s shattered windows, dimming the light and keeping the room cool in the afternoon’s heat. Dar was still tired and wished to sleep some more, but she kept thinking of Velasa-pah. She had never seen deep magic before, but felt certain she had witnessed it in his stone hut. While what happened there might be explained away, instinct told Dar that would be foolhardy. Velasa-pah’s advice, like her visions, shouldn’t be ignored. Yet what he had told her seemed of little use. She knew of no man who listened to bones. The feelings that stirred within her chest were unsettled and often contradictory, hardly guidance at all.
Well, at least I’m in Tarathank.
Dar wondered why she was directed to the ruined city.
Perhaps I’m supposed to find something.
She couldn’t imagine what it could be.

Realizing she wouldn’t sleep, Dar rose carefully so as not to disturb Kovok-mah. Her bare feet made no noise as she walked over to the window and peered out. The overgrown city looked like a forest of bizarrely shaped trees. It was eerily quiet. No birds called, and the air was still. Judging from the low angle of the sun, it was late afternoon.

Dar turned about and saw that Kovok-mah was watching her. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” she said.

“I’ve been awake awhile. You seem restless.”

“I was thinking of Velasa-pah. Zna-yat said he’s mentioned in old tales. Who was he?”

“Muth la made urkzimmuthi first,” said Kovok-mah, “and for long time we knew no washavokis. When they first appeared, we called them ‘urkzimdi’—second children. In those days, some urkzimdi were reborn into clans. One was Velasa-pah. He became great wizard, though great was his sorrow.”

“Why?”

“It can be painful to see future.”

“I know,” said Dar, thinking of her own visions. “What happened to him?”

“He foresaw destruction of Tarathank, but queen didn’t understand war. It was his fate to see all he loved perish.”

“Yet, he lived.”

“Thwa. All urkzimmuthi perished in Tarathank.”

“But he was washavoki.”

“He was not,” said Kovok-mah. “He had been reborn.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t happen anymore.”

Dar thought of the lonely old man in the stone hut. “That’s sad tale,” she said. Yet she hoped it was true, for the one she imagined was even sadder.

“Tales told here lack happy endings,” said Kovok-mah.

“Yet we were supposed to come to this place,” said Dar. “I don’t know why.” She sighed. “I fear we must stay awhile.”

Dar’s decision to linger in Tarathank didn’t disappoint the other orcs. Rather, it gave them a chance to pursue their interests. The following day, Zna-yat found an iron kettle that still held liquid. After scouring the rust from its interior, he searched long-abandoned gardens for culinary herbs. By the time Lama-tok and Duth-tok returned from studying the city’s stonework, Zna-yat had a stew cooking on the hearth. Varz-hak came back a little later with a collection of glass shards in colors he had never seen before.

Only Kovok-mah had no personal project. Instead, he accompanied Dar as she wandered about the city. She was looking for something, but she had no clue as to what it was. Kovok-mah tried to be cheerful as they poked about the deserted buildings, but being an orc, he was unable to disguise his feelings. The ruins depressed him, and Dar knew it.

The only discovery that lifted Kovok-mah’s spirits was a bathing pool located in a nearby courtyard. A steady stream of water poured into it from a stone spout set high in the wall above. The tiny waterfall made a soothing sound. Moreover, the constant flow of water prevented leaves from accumulating, and the pool was the first they had encountered that wasn’t choked with muck and weeds. When Dar was ready to depart, she saw that Kovok-mah was reluctant to leave, so they stayed a while longer and watched the falling water.

After dinner, all the orcs but Kovok-mah were brimming with talk of things that had fired their imagination. Zna-yat had encountered two herbs that were new to him. Varz-hak passed around his collection of shards so that everyone could hold them up to the light. Duth-tok and Lama-tok waxed eloquent on stonework and prevailed on Dar to visit a wall they particularly admired.

Dar returned at dusk to find Kovok-mah gone, and his absence made her feel that she had neglected him that evening. She had been caught up in the other orcs’ enthusiasms while he sat silent and alone. When the orcs retired to sleep and Kovok-mah hadn’t returned, Dar decided to find him. She suspected that he had gone to the pool. It wasn’t distant. If she hurried, there would be enough light for her to find the way.

Dar left the building and made her way through the street. So many plants grew between the paving stones that it resembled a meadow. The house that contained the pool was huge and burned. In the twilight, its entrance was a black hole. Dar nearly turned back, but recalling Kovok-mah’s sadness made her press onward. She felt her way through the passage until she saw a dim light ahead. She moved toward it, heard the sound of falling water, and entered the courtyard.

Kovok-mah stood waist-deep in the pool, facing away. Water cascaded over him, and he seemed unaware of Dar’s approach. She halted at the pool’s edge. Kovok-mah was ten paces away, motionless. The water flowing over his skin made it look as if it had turned to silver. Dar was transfixed by Kovok-mah’s beauty. He seemed the embodiment of strength and power. Dar knew he possessed a gentle spirit—a spirit that made her feel secure. Gazing at Kovok-mah, Dar envisioned his arms about her as she slept.
He’ll be fresh and clean tonight. I should be also.

The idea of bathing with Kovok-mah made Dar both nervous and excited. The mere sight of him awakened a need she had long denied—a desire for tenderness and intimacy. Kovok-mah remained absolutely still, as if waiting passively.
This will be my choice
, Dar thought,
not his.
She wavered a moment, uncertain what she wanted. Then Dar shed her clothes and entered the water. It was warm, yet goose bumps rose on her flesh.
What am I doing here?
she asked herself.
Bathing.
Dar knew that wasn’t true. Still facing away, Kovok-mah stepped back from the stream of water, then froze.
He knows I’m here, but I can still leave. He won’t turn around.
Dar moved closer, instead. Soon, she was near enough to touch him. Kovok-mah remained motionless. Dar reached out her hand, then hesitated.

The warm, moist air bore a scent that Dar had never experienced. It was at the farthest reach of her perception—elusive, yet primal and compelling. Dar breathed deeply. Her senses heightened, and she felt energized. She brushed her hands over Kovok-mah’s broad back. His skin was cool, but she felt the heat beneath it. The scent intensified. Dar’s head swam with its fragrance.

Kovok-mah turned, his eyes radiating warmth. “Dargu,” he said, tenderly voicing her name as both plea and promise. He didn’t ask her why she was there or what she wanted. Dar realized why.
He can smell what I’m feeling!
She sensed that he understood those feelings better than she did. Her thoughts were ambivalent, yet her essence bespoke yearning. She surrendered to that yearning.

“I’m here,” Dar whispered, “because I followed my chest.” Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed Kovok-mah. She could only reach his breastbone.

“What was that?”

“It was gesture,” said Dar. “It means…” She paused, groping for a neutral word, but the Orcish language wasn’t suited for equivocation. “…it means I show love.”

“I don’t know this gesture.”

“Then show me your own,” said Dar. “I am mother. Treat me as one.”

Kovok-mah placed his powerful hands upon Dar’s shoulders and gently drew her toward him. His fingers drifted over her skin as lightly as a breeze. The same hands that had crushed a man’s throat with a single squeeze caressed her with exquisite delicacy, awakening her body. There was no urgency in his touch, only gentleness and reverence. When Kovok-mah lifted Dar from the water, she was uncertain what he would do, but she was unafraid.

Kovok-mah carried Dar to a mossy spot and set her down. Dar lay on her back as Kovok-mah settled beside her. She glanced below his waist and, to her relief, saw that he was no larger there than a man. Kovok-mah caught her looking and smiled. “Dargu, we are not blessed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We may not thrimuk, but I may give love.”

He won’t tup me
, thought Dar, uncertain if she was more relieved or disappointed. Then Kovok-mah’s lips drew her attention. He didn’t exactly kiss her neck—the tip of his tongue was more active than in a human kiss—but the sensation was distinctly pleasurable. It became even more pleasurable as his lips traced a trail to her breasts. They lingered there. He sucked in her nipples and caressed them with his tongue. Dar felt a warm glow spread through her body. Then gentle fingertips replaced Kovok-mah’s tongue as his lips traveled down her belly.

Dar was surprised when she guessed where Kovok-mah was headed. She had never heard of a man doing such a thing.
He’s not a man
. Then she felt Kovok-mah’s tongue between her legs. She had never experienced such pleasure in her life. Warm, tingling ripples washed from the center of her body. All her senses became more intense. Kovok-mah continued licking and the ripples became waves. Soon, Dar was arching her body against his face. The waves grew stronger. Their intensity became overwhelming. Dar writhed. She cried out in ecstasy. The feeling slowly subsided, leaving Dar limp and blissful.

Kovok-mah lay back and gently pulled Dar on top of him. As their bodies pressed together, Dar sighed with contentment. She kissed Kovok-mah’s chest, then slid along him until she reached his lips. “This is called ‘kiss,’” she whispered. She kissed his mouth.

Kovok-mah smiled. “I like this kiss.”

Dar kissed him again.

“Are you happy?” asked Kovok-mah.

“Can’t you smell it?”

“There is no scent for happiness.”