Pride of Empires (The Powers of Amur Book 3) Read online

  Praudhu turned toward Sadja with an expression of supreme pleasure. He began to gesture grandly. “A plan of my own cunning. I sent a spy into the Dhigvaditya, and he found those inside who were loyal to the imperial line. When Chadram entered the city, the loyalists opened the Bronze Gate and Chadram’s forces poured in.”

  “Never by arms, but often by treachery,” Sadja said, repeating the proverb about how the Dhigvaditya was captured.

  “It’s no treachery when the gates are opened to the rightful Emperor,” Praudhu said with a hint of bitterness. “And we still fought within the Dhigvaditya against Dumaya’s partisans. But it didn’t last long. And the spy, a young thikratta named Kirshta, I rewarded by naming him the Emperor’s Lotus.”

  Kirshta? A thrill of surprise and alarm passed through Sadja. He remembered the boy from their brief meeting on the field outside Virnas. He had not seemed anything formidable then—a slave in Ruyam’s service, hoping for protection in the wake of his master’s fall. Perhaps Sadja had underestimated him.

  “I had heard about the Emperor’s Lotus,” Sadja said. “The rumors say that his mastery of fire exceeds that of Ruyam.”

  Praudhu’s eyebrows drew together. He hissed, “Make no comparisons to that mad thikratta.”

  Sadja bowed. “Forgive me, my Emperor.”

  Praudhu waved it aside. “In any case, the treachery of Dumaya was rooted out like the treachery of Ruyam. I’m secure in the Ushpanditya now.”

  An opening. Sadja put on an expression of mild concern. “Are you sure there is no more treachery in the Ushpanditya?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dumaya fell to his own men, who preferred your service to his. Emperors have fallen in the past in this way.”

  Praudhu was silent for a bit. He stopped walking in the middle of the path. “I had not been concerned with that.”

  “I seek to protect your imperial serenity. Your father nearly lost the empire because his own Hand took it from him. Dumaya, who should have served you as captain of the Red Men, nonetheless turned against you.” Sadja took a deep breath and shook his head regretfully. “I would not say the Ushpanditya is safe. Far from it.”

  Praudhu twisted his hands together. “A puzzle.”

  “You should examine everyone in the Ushpanditya. And the Red Men. First the Red Men, in fact.”

  “Examine them how? For what?”

  “Disloyalty. Divided interests.” Sadja tapped his cheek. “I would say that you should trust Chadram, since he won the Dhigvaditya for you. And Kirshta, your Lotus. But all others?”

  Praudhu was silent for a moment. He turned on his heel and started down the garden path again, walking slowly, his steps heavy with thought. “Yes, Chadram and Kirshta are mine. The rest…” He sighed. “I have sent for Basadi-dar to come here from Gumadha for her wedding. By the time she arrives, I must be sure the whole Ushpanditya is loyal to me alone.”

  Sadja bowed and spread his palms. “If there is anything I may do to help, my Emperor—”

  “No,” Praudhu said flatly.

  “As you wish.” So he wasn’t enough of a fool to give one of his vassal kings free reign to speak to everyone in the Ushpanditya. But he had taken the rest of the bait, and the purging of the Ushpanditya would hopefully take his attention away from what Sadja did elsewhere.

  “You will be here for the wedding of Basadi-dar and Lushatha-kha?”

  “I hope to stay in Majasravi at least that long, my Emperor.”

  “Good.” Praudhu faced toward the Green Hall. “Go, now. I want to think. You may not have Basadi-dar, but if your counsel is wise, I’ll find another way to reward you.”

  Sadja prostrated himself, pressing his forehead against the dirt. “I leave with fear and trembling, Praudhu-daridarya,” he said. And he backed away from Praudhu with his head bowed, until he was out of the Emperor’s sight.

  He maintained a mask of perfect indifference as he met up with his herald, Bhargasa, and the rest of his entourage. They reclaimed their weapons before going out the Rice Gate, then they emerged into the streets of Majasravi to return to the River Palace. Only once Sadja was beyond the shadows of the Ushpanditya’s walls did he loosen his grip on his inner stillness and allow himself to smile.

  He would need to find out everything he could about this Lushatha. Now that Praudhu’s mind was primed to think of betrayal, it should only take a nudge to push Lushatha into the trap.

  Kirshta

  Kirshta sat on a reed mat in his room and sorted the books which he had reclaimed from Ruyam’s personal library, putting them alongside the volumes from the imperial archives. He could not help but smile as he looked at the stack.

  He had so many books.

  The imperial cache had been undisturbed when Praudhu retook the Ushpanditya. It had the most books Kirshta had ever seen in one place. Two large rooms at the base of the Emperor’s tower, filled to the roofs with niches holding everything the Emperor or his court might want to consult: books of history, poetics, philosophy, and worship, census records and tax receipts, traveler’s tales and courtly romances. There were hundreds of books.

  And Kirshta had permission to read them all.

  Besides those, Kirshta had managed to recover about three dozen volumes from Ruyam’s personal library. Yellow palm leaves sewn through their centers and encased in covers of ebony and mahogany. Beautiful things, paintings and reliefs on their faces, with images of Jakhur and the moon inlaid by mother-of-pearl, of tigers and dolphins drawn in squid ink, of Am and Ashti with sapphire paint on their skin, and rice stalks and lotuses stamped with deep etching. They smelled like incense and ink. They were wonderful.

  Kirshta had read about half of them already, from the days when he’d served Ruyam as his servant and stolen glances at them when Ruyam had left him alone. But others were undisturbed, new volumes with unknown titles. They awaited his touch to be opened, unfolded, fragile pages peeled apart, their dancing lines of ink made into knowledge.

  He had brought them down from the Emperor’s tower, where Ruyam had stayed when he was the Emperor’s Hand. Praudhu had no interest in them and had handed them over as soon as Kirshta asked. He had even pointed Kirshta to the temple library; the dhorsha of the Majavaru Lurchatiya kept a vast trove of books in the temple complex, and as Emperor’s Lotus he could request any of them he wanted. He hadn’t yet ventured that far, and in any case he doubted the books there were of as much interest to him. They would be dhorsha texts, rituals and epics and old court dramas.

  But Kirshta wanted the thikratta texts, the books that recorded the teachings of the old masters and the secrets of inner stillness and the power therein.

  He had no teacher. The books were his only guide.

  He glanced across the covers of the books he recognized. The first was a history of the thikratta, from the earliest days of the Seven Kingdoms to the founding of the Empire. A fascinating book, long and detailed, but he doubted there was much there of use to him. The next was a popular work, a collection of legends and tales about the thikratta for the entertainment of khadir and merchants. Then a traveler’s account of moving through the mountains, purporting to describe the customs of the mountain people. Kirshta snickered at that one. Either the author had exaggerated to increase the popularity of his work, or Kirshta’s own memories of growing up in the mountains were missing some important bits.

  Then a manual of Acakta, the Way of Power, the order of the thikratta to which Ruyam had belonged. Kirshta set this aside. Of all of the books he had found, this was the one that promised the most use to him.

  He sorted the rest of the pile and was left with fifteen books which he had not read. Many of them he couldn’t even guess their topics, as they were bound in plain cases of ebony wood. He would have to open them one by one to find out what they were. He shivered with anticipation.

  And at the bottom of the stack, a little piece of slate sat in a bamboo frame. A tiny chip of chalk lay on the tray at the bottom.

&nb
sp; Most of it was smeared beyond recognition. But at the top, a question had been written in large block letters, and though their lower halves were erased two words were legible:

  WHY TERNAS

  Kirshta tossed it aside. He picked up the first unknown book, untied the lace holding the covers together, and pried it open. The halves of the shell came apart with the dry smell of palm leaves and the crackle of bending pages. He opened the first page and read: Ternas in the mountains, and the exploits of its lama.

  Interesting. Kirshta leaned over and picked up Ruyam’s slate, then glanced at the book. Why Ternas?

  Kirshta folded the first book closed and moved to the next one. It turned out to be the second volume of the book he had just opened. He opened the next, and the next, and quickly made a count. Four books concerning the history and founding of Ternas, then three about the Uluriya, two about the mountains and the mountain people, including a second copy of the one Kirshta had already read, and one which seemed to be a manual of the Damana school of the thikratta. Hardly a random sample of topics.

  Why Ternas?

  Kirshta sorted the books again and took the ones which he had already read and arranged them on the shelves next to his bedroll. Then he took the unread ones and sorted them into the order of his interest. The manual of Damana first, the Way of Submission. Ruyam had followed Acakta, but evidently he had found Damana worthy of his study as well, and Kirshta wouldn’t disdain that knowledge. But after that came the histories of Ternas, and then the others.

  Ruyam had been looking for something. He hadn’t found it—or perhaps he had, and that was why they had gone to Ternas and burned it, and then followed the Uluriya all the way to Virnas. Had Kirshta any hope of reconstructing that knowledge? He didn’t even know what the question was.

  “Why Ternas?” he muttered to himself.

  “What about Ternas?” a voice broke in abruptly.

  He looked up, startled, and nearly tore the precious page of the book. Vapathi was in the doorway, studying him with bemused benevolence.

  “You looked like you were concentrating very hard,” she said. “I almost hate to interrupt you.”

  “If you were anyone else, I’d yell at you and tell you to close the door,” Kirshta said. “But you, well, just come in.”

  Vapathi shook her head. “Praudhu-daridarya is looking for you. I have to summon you to the Green Hall.”

  “Ah.” Kirshta let himself show a little grimace of annoyance in front of Vapathi. “I am the Emperor’s Lotus, but I’d prefer he leave me alone with my books for a while.”

  Vapathi shrugged. “I just have to bring you news. With fear and trembling, of course, because it’s the Emperor’s summons. You know how.”

  Kirshta rose. As he passed Vapathi in the doorway he kissed her on the cheek. “Watch my books, will you?”

  “I promise no one else in the Ushpanditya will get a peek at your books.” She paused. “Your ear seems to be healing nicely.”

  He put his hand to his right ear and felt at the ragged edge where the knives of Dumaya’s soldiers had torn through it. The scab had crusted over it entirely and the pain had dissolved.

  “It itches me,” he said. “Other than that, I forget it’s there.”

  “It looks very military.” Vapathi gave him a crooked smile. “Like a warrior. Almost makes me afraid of you.”

  “So long as people are afraid enough to leave my books alone.”

  “I said I’d take care of your books. Now don’t keep the Emperor waiting.”

  Vapathi’s promise was enough. If he couldn’t trust her, then he was as good as dead.

  A herald announced him as he entered the Green Hall. “The Emperor’s Lotus petitions to see Praudhu-daridarya, whose name we say with fear and trembling.” Kirshta prostrated himself to the ground. When he stood he saw that Praudhu did not sit on the Seven-Stepped Throne, but stood at the top of the stairs which ascended from the orange garden. His hands were crossed behind his back, and he looked over the garden wall at the tumbled chaos of Majasravi. Kirshta came up behind him and waited for Praudhu to speak.

  “Have you recovered the mad thikratta’s library?” Praudhu asked.

  “I have, my Emperor,” Kirshta said. “I have seldom been more delighted.”

  “So long as it helps you fulfill your duties to me,” Praudhu said. “And not Ruyam’s corrupt ambitions.”

  “I have no ambitions similar to Ruyam’s.” This was true, he thought after a moment. He had little interest in becoming Emperor. Becoming Emperor’s Lotus and having a shelf full of books was plenty.

  “You had better not,” Praudhu said. He glanced over his shoulder at Kirshta. “What I most want right now is total loyalty.”

  “I have no loyalty except to you, my Emperor.”

  Praudhu turned abruptly and pierced Kirshta with a fierce, angry glare. “Perhaps you don’t. But I may have other enemies in the Ushpanditya.”

  Kirshta stood at silent attention, holding a perfect Palm posture. Praudhu looked at him, but he barely seemed to see Kirshta, staring instead into the shadowed darkness at the far end of the Green Hall.

  “My father fell to treachery in his own court,” Praudhu said. “And though Sadja-dar was too polite to mention it, the Kupshira lineage itself only holds the Ushpanditya because we thrust out the descendants of Aidasa when they had grown weak. The years of my father’s senility were too long. Who knows what rotted alongside that traitorous thikratta?”

  “I know not, my Emperor.”

  “But you’ll find out. That’s why I called you here.” Praudhu folded his hands behind his back again and began to pace from the foot of the Seven-Stepped Throne to the colonnade. Kirshta watched Praudhu intently. He had not been this way the last time Kirshta had seen him, the day before. Something had disturbed him.

  “The whole Dhigvaditya and Ushpanditya,” Praudhu muttered. “All of them.”

  “Praudhu-daridarya, may I ask what you want from the whole Dhigvaditya and Ushpanditya?”

  “You and Chadram will examine them,” Praudhu said. “You can tell if they’re lying, can’t you?”

  Kirshta hesitated for a heartbeat. “Yes.”

  Truth-seeing was an element of farsight. Not one that he had practiced, but one he could deploy. And he had Ruyam’s books now. Maybe they would instruct him.

  “You and Chadram,” Praudhu said. “You two I can trust. Every soldier in the Red Men, the whole Dhigvaditya, will come to you one at a time. Find out if they took bribes from any of my enemies. If they sided with Dumaya. Everything.”

  “My Emperor, do you believe there’s a plot against you?”

  Praudhu turned on his heel and looked Kirshta in the face. His eyes were a whirl of anger and fear. “There are always plots against the Emperor. I had to overcome two scheming usurpers just to enter the palace where my father died. If I wait until the next one shows himself, I may be dead first.”

  Kirshta bowed. “I bow to your wisdom and foresight.”

  “Take a few days to prepare with Chadram,” Praudhu said. He climbed the stairs to the throne. “I already spoke to him. I don’t care how you do it, but be thorough. If there is anyone, anyone who has plotted against me, we’ll find them out.” He sat on the throne. “Now be gone. The court opens soon, and I have petitions to hear.”

  Kirshta prostrated himself again. “My Emperor, I hear with fear and trembling. I will find Chadram and carry out your wishes.” Keeping his face lowered he turned toward the entrance of the hall and left.

  The antechamber of the Green Hall was filled with khadir and majakhadir and others who had come to curry the Emperor’s favor. They parted to make room for Kirshta, a consideration they would never have given him when he was a slave—advantages to wearing the yellow silk of the Emperor’s Lotus, he thought with some pleasure. He didn’t envy any of them. Given the paranoia that Praudhu had shown, they would be lucky to have their simplest requests granted today.

  He heard voices from within h
is room when he returned. He parted the curtain and found Vapathi and Apurta sitting close together. Vapathi wore a look of cautious pleasure while Apurta grinned and gestured broadly.

  “… but he asked for the goat!” Apurta finished.

  Vapathi burst out laughing. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Am’s thighs, that can’t possibly be true.”

  “All true, I swear it,” Apurta said with his eyes glittering. “Well, mostly true. That’s what it was like in Lashmirti.”

  Vapathi swatted him gently on the arm. Apurta leaned into her, his grin widening. Vapathi glanced to the entrance of the room and noticed Kirshta standing there. “Kirshta! You’re back from your meeting?”

  “It was short,” Kirshta said, stepping into the room and seating himself across from Apurta. “The Emperor has something he needs me to do.”

  “Oh, no,” Apurta said, rolling his eyes. “Actual work. I thought the point of being the Emperor’s Lotus was that you got to sit around all day and read books.”

  “He’s had plenty of time to read books,” Vapathi said.

  “No!” Kirshta broke in. “There is never enough time to read all the books.”

  “That’s my brother,” Vapathi said mockingly. “So now that the Emperor is making you earn your rice, what will you be doing?”

  Kirshta stretched his legs and leaned forward. “Talking to the soldiers in the Dhigvaditya. Finding out if any of them are taking bribes or working with people outside the Dhigvaditya.”

  “Praudhu-daridarya must be nervous.”

  “I guess,” Apurta said. “I should probably get back to the Dhigvaditya myself, before my commander starts looking for me.”

  “Your job is to guard me,” Kirshta reminded him.

  “Still have to report in,” Apurta said glumly. “And my bed is there.”