Heir of Iron (The Powers of Amur Book 1) Page 6

  “And if it’s a trap? Why should all three of us walk into a dangerous pit?”

  Taleg began counting on his fingers. “First, Navran certainly can’t go alone. He’d be dead or drunk or lost at sea before he ever got within sight of the city. I can’t go alone, since I’m just a bodyguard. I suppose that just Mandhi and I might go, but Sadja didn’t ask to see us. So it’s got to be all three of us.”

  Mandhi shook her head. “We can’t all three go. They’re purging Uluriya again in the north, and you want us to walk into the heart of it.”

  “You’d be going to Davrakhanda,” Cauratha said. “Not Majasravi. I’ve gotten no complaint from our brothers in Davrakhanda for their safety.”

  “Plus,” Taleg said, “I would be with you. No one takes me for an Uluriya at first, and barely anyone will dare fight me. You’d be as safe there as here in Virnas.”

  She caught the weight of what he didn’t say. The two of them and Navran, who already knew of their marriage, alone on the road for so many weeks, in the guest-houses of strangers whose gossip would never get back to Virnas. She stamped down the heat in the bottom of her belly. They had been stealing isolated nights, here and there, a half a dozen in the month since the wedding. Travel would be freedom.

  “We would have to leave quickly,” she said. “To get to Davrakhanda and Ternas to see Gocam, and to get back before the rains. We’ll be on the road for months.”

  “We can leave the day after tomorrow,” Taleg said. “Why wait?”

  “I shall have to write Sadja-dar a letter,” Cauratha said, “which you can carry with you. He knows we are Uluriya, so hopefully he will be prepared for our coming. What else he knows, you will have to see. Gocam will know you’re coming, of course. But Mandhi.” He folded his hand over hers and smiled at her with a warm, helpless expression. “Come back quickly. I missed you dearly during your last excursion with Taleg.”

  “We’ll return as soon as we can,” Mandhi said. “I don’t want to stay away any longer, either.”

  “Very well. Taleg, will you leave us for a moment?”

  “Certainly.” He bowed to both of them. “I’ll let Navran know of our plans. Hopefully he’ll be sobered up enough to just glare at me rather than cursing me.”

  When the curtain fell across the door again, Cauratha said in a low voice, “I have been thinking of your marriage.”

  Mandhi heart tightened into a stone. For a moment she forgot to breathe. “With whom?”

  “Veshta has made some inquiries for me. There are a few young men in the city who would be suitable. I have spoken with a young saghada who lives on the south side of the city. Twenty-seven years old, unmarried, of a pristine and pious Uluriya family. I wished to invite him to the estate in the next week, though you’re leaving now…. Perhaps I will invite him anyway.”

  “Father, please don’t compel me—”

  “Compel you?” He laughed. “Mandhi, I lost the power to compel you when you were still a girl. No, no, I would merely present you with the chance to meet him. But you were so eager to marry earlier.”

  “I… I was. I mean, I am. But I was afraid, that you had arranged something, or would arrange something while I am gone.”

  “I will arrange nothing without your consent. You have borne more than half of the burden of being Heir for years, and I owe you at least that respect. And there is the matter of my identity. Any man who would marry you would have to know that I am the Heir, and would respect the star-iron ring on your finger. Should Navran fail to fulfill his duties as Heir, the next Heir might come through you anyway. This man obviously knows none of this, and I would need to examine him more closely myself before telling him. But still, would you meet with him when you return?”

  Her tongue felt like a serpent in her mouth, unwilling to bend itself to form words. She couldn’t say yes, but what pretext did she have to say no? Navran, she thought bitterly. If only he were a competent Heir, her marriage to Taleg might be forgiven. But if not… perhaps she could hope, along with her father, that seeing Sadja and Gocam would change him. “When I return, we’ll see,” she said.

  An idea sparked in her mind: “Perhaps you could arrange for this man to meet with Srithi. She knows me, and she could at least give an impression, both to you and to me. And perhaps when we have heard from Sadja in Davrakhanda things will change.” And this way Srithi would be able to manufacture some excuse to reject the man with less loss of face than Mandhi would endure. She might not appreciate being put upon in this way, but it would do.

  “I don’t see how Sadja-dar’s invitation could change anything, unless you expect him to marry you.” Cauratha looked at Mandhi with an expectant expression, then shook his head. “Ah, that was meant to be a joke, but I see from your face that it has failed. I lack Taleg’s talent for them. You always laugh at his.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. And don’t worry. I’ll go no farther with matchmaking until you return from Davrakhanda. But as for Navran—here, let me give you the letter from Gocam that first sent us looking for him. Perhaps he would like to read it. I want you to consider whether we should reveal the truth of his inheritance to him.”

  Mandhi pursed her lips. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

  “Navran must know before he meets Sadja-dar. I must assume that Sadja-dar knows, somehow, and that the meeting will hinge on this knowledge, so Navran cannot go into it with less knowledge than you and Taleg have. Do you understand?”

  She had not considered the consequences of the meeting with Sadja, though once her father said it, the necessity was obvious. “I’ll tell him,” she said. “Before we get to Davrakhanda. I’m not happy about it, because I don’t think he’s to be trusted, but I’ll do it.”

  5

  The city of Jaitha clung like a barnacle to the south shore of the Amsadhu river. From atop the river bluffs, the entire city stretched before them, running from the black marshy shores of the river to the feet of the bluffs and beginning to climb the slopes. In its center, hidden behind red stone walls, clustered the old city’s houses, markets, wharves, and temples, which stood on stilts to save themselves from the annual flooding. Encrustations of slums and warehouses and markets accumulated around the walls. Near the eastern tip of the city, at the farthest point from them, the Emperor’s Bridge stretched like a chain of white marble across the wide, shallow river.

  “The stars upon Jaitha,” Taleg said, reaching his fists to the sky in an exuberant stretch. “One more night in the miserable hovels between here and Virnas and I might have gone mad. A great step down from the estate, eh, Navran?”

  He elbowed Navran, who shrugged and looked away. Navran had barely said a word in their five days of walking. Without alcohol to loosen his tongue, he seemed determined to recede into that same hostile silence that had marked their first meeting.

  Mandhi leaned into Taleg and wiped the dust from her forehead. “Come on. It’s already afternoon, and we want to get to Paidacha’s early enough to eat.”

  From the bluffs overlooking the city, the road plunged down to the floodplain and into the heart of Jaitha. Once through the boggy slums that sulked on the edges of the city, they found themselves in a cacophonous surge of bodies on the central road. Taleg took the lead, cutting through the crowd like a plow through mud, while Mandhi followed close on his heels to ensure she didn’t get lost in the human froth. Navran took the rear. Kiosks and shops crowded in on the narrow, damp passage, the calls of the merchants mixing with the bleating of goats and sheep and the bells of chanting dhorsha. Ahead of them the cracked red wall of the old city loomed, decorated with reliefs of the sun and tiger icons of Chaludra, its crenelated top like broken teeth. From one direction the smell of incense and blood leaked out from a temple to Chaludra, while from the other direction the smell of grilling fish tempted them to a kiosk.

  Taleg glanced down at the fat skewered eels. “I’d buy this man out of these if I had coin to spare. After a hard day�
��s travel—”

  “Paidacha has better,” Mandhi said. Taleg looked over her head back into the crowd. “We should hurry on. Why have you stopped?”

  “Where is Navran?” he asked.

  She whirled. The street traffic flowed around them like water around a stone, but she didn’t see Navran anywhere. She cursed under her breath. “That ungrateful worm. If we have to search the city for him….”

  Taleg put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him. I’ve been finding him every day for a month.”

  “That was in Virnas. Do you know Jaitha as well as Virnas?”

  “We’ll find him. Follow me.”

  He forged ahead as quickly as he could push through the crowd, glancing back periodically to ensure that Mandhi still followed. Her eyes darted from face to face in the crowd, but no Navran. She saw no signs for beer-sellers that might entice him, and she wasn’t even sure where to look for gamblers. Would Navran know where to go? It didn’t matter. They couldn’t have lost him for more than a few minutes, so he must be relatively near. But the side streets were a warren of swampy alleys and narrow, dark passages, and he could have disappeared down any of them. Her eyes peered into the gloom between the buildings but saw nothing.

  They had walked nearly back to the edge of the city when Mandhi tugged at Taleg’s sleeve. “This is pointless. We’ll never find him this way. You need to go digging in the sorts of rat-holes where he hid in Virnas.”

  Taleg wiped the dust off his brow and stamped his foot. “So what are we doing?”

  “We should go ahead to Paidacha’s. I’ll stay there while you dig him up. You’ll be faster without me anyway.”

  Taleg frowned. “I’m going to miss dinner, aren’t I?”

  Mandhi pulled out a coin and tossed it to Taleg. “Buy yourself some eel skewers.”

  Paidacha’s guest-house was in the old city, a sprawling structure of ancient wood, brightly painted in red and green and glistening with oil. Like all the buildings in the lower parts of Jaitha it was raised on stilts to keep it above the rainy season’s floods, though now, at the tail end of the rains, the water had receded to a mere puddle around the bottoms of the posts. Paidacha appeared at the top of the ladder as soon as he heard Taleg’s knock on the posts.

  “Ah! The stars upon you, my friends!” he shouted. “Come up, come up. It has been a year, two years since you were here?”

  “Two,” Mandhi said. Their very first investigations of Navran brought them to Jaitha, where they had learned about the incredible culinary talents of Paidacha.

  “Too long! Did you find the one you were looking for?”

  Mandhi hesitated on the top step of the ladder. Taleg stood below her and gave a chagrined shrug. “We found him, but we lost him here in the city.”

  “Really? Terrible. Tell me, what was his name?”

  “Navran. Taleg is going to look for him,” Mandhi said. “He’s leaving immediately, but with Ulaur’s favor he’ll return later tonight.”

  “Oh.” Paidacha’s face fell. “Tonight’s dinner will be splendid. You chose a good night to come. But Taleg, you will miss it?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow?” Taleg said with a pained shrug.

  “Certainly.” Paidacha grinned. “I’ll come up with something special. Mandhi, you remember Kalishni my daughter? She’ll show you to your room. The largest chamber, Kalishni, and put up the curtains to provide Mandhi with her seclusion.”

  A little girl appeared at the edge of the doorway, and at her father’s command she took Mandhi’s hand.

  “Find him,” Mandhi said over her shoulder to Taleg as the girl led her into the house. “And come back quickly.” She didn’t add I’ll miss you until you return, since gossip from Jaitha could easily return to Virnas, but she hoped that Taleg understood that she meant it.

  * * *

  Night settled over the city with the scent of woodsmoke and the boasting of frogs. Mandhi sat on a cushion near the front door of the guest-house, her belly full. She had eaten saffron-scented rice, roast duck stuffed with dates and mint, fish stew with leeks and coriander, and honeyed roti. The dining room in the center of the guest-house was packed, both with the guests and with others who had come just for one of Paidacha’s famous feasts. Most of them were Uluriya, and if the others knew or cared that the food was prepared under the law of Ulaur and blessed by a saghada, they gave no indication of it.

  The chatter continued in the dining room, but Mandhi had retired to the door and looked out into the darkness. Overhead, the stars gleamed in an inky blue sky, and the city imitated them with candles and fires flickering in windows. Mandhi’s food sat uneasy in her stomach. Taleg had not returned.

  If Navran was gone for good…. What would she tell her father?

  But isn’t this what you want?

  Yes, but not this way. Cauratha’s heart would break. He would not blame her, at least not openly. He was too gentle for that. But she would feel the recrimination every time they spoke.

  But weren’t you relieved, just a little, when you realized he was gone?

  No. Yes. I don’t know.

  Her thoughts chased themselves in that circle with the inevitability of the stars turning in the sky.

  There was a noise in the street. She stood and looked out, then fetched an oil lamp from the house and hoisted it. Someone was coming. Two someones.

  “Taleg?” she called out.

  His laughter echoed through the night air. “Am I late for dinner?”

  Two dim silhouettes emerged from the gloom into the light of the lamp. Taleg stood there grinning, his arm slung over the shoulder of a mute Navran. Navran looked up at her with a cold, inflexible expression.

  “Was he drunk?” she asked Taleg.

  “I wasn’t drunk.” Navran said.

  Mandhi made a noise of disgust. “Get up here.”

  Navran ascended the ladder with Taleg behind him. As soon as he stepped onto the deck Mandhi slapped him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  He did not open his eyes in response to her slap. “What?”

  “What? What?”

  “Tell me, Mandhi. What did I do to rouse your anger?”

  Taleg got off of the ladder and loomed behind Navran. “Let’s talk quietly,” he said.

  Mandhi put the oil lamp down. Another moment and she was going to hurl it into Navran’s face. Instead, she grabbed Navran by the beard and pulled him down to meet her eyes. “You ran off. You made Taleg chase after you while I sat here like an idiot and waited. You abuse Veshta’s hospitality and our father’s graces. And you ask me what you did?”

  Navran shoved her away. She staggered back and caught herself on the lintel of the door. Taleg put his hand on Navran’s. Navran shook him off. His voice was knife-sharp and cold.

  “Neither of you touch me. Listen, sister Mandhi. You treat me like a slave. You bought me and forced me to call Cauratha my father. You lie to me. You do not tell me why I’m here. You let me leave during the day, but you drag me back every night. And when I slip away in Jaitha, you hunt me like a dog.”

  “Did you want us to leave you alone?” Mandhi said. “You were a star-damned debt slave when we found you. And you’re still a drunk and a gambler and pain to Cauratha. You owe us your freedom and your comfort. And what do we owe you?”

  “The truth.”

  The sounds of gossip and laughter leaking in from the dining room filled the silence.

  “What do you want to know?” Mandhi said at last.

  “Who you are. Who I am. What you want with me.”

  “You are Cauratha’s son. I am Cauratha’s daughter.”

  “And who is Cauratha? More than an old saghada living with a rich merchant. I can see that much.”

  Damn, but Navran was smarter than he looked. Mandhi glanced up at Taleg. He raised his eyebrow and said, “Maybe we should go to our chamber.”

  “If I tell you,” Mandhi said, “you will be bound to secrecy. The highest secrecy that you can imagine. D
o you understand?”

  “I don’t say much,” Navran said.

  “But when you drink….”

  Navran grimaced and pretended to study something in the street. “I understand.”

  “Then let’s go to our chamber. Taleg, grab some dishes for you and Navran from Paidacha. There should be plenty left. Might as well not let the whole evening go to waste.”

  She plunged into the dining room and pushed past Paidacha into the narrow corridor beyond. At the rear of the house was their chamber. An embroidered curtain hung from the central rafter dividing the room into two halves, with a low bed adorned with thin silk sheets and silk-covered cushions on each side. As soon as Taleg and Navran appeared through the doorway, Mandhi glanced into the hallway to ensure that no one was listening, then yanked the curtain shut.

  Taleg sat by the door with his clay bowl of rice, roti, and shreds of the remaining duck. He gave a bowl to Navran, then Mandhi pointed to a spot next to the outside wall. Navran scowled at her for a moment, then bowed his head and began to eat. “Well?”

  “Are you ready?” Mandhi asked.

  He took three bites of rice before answering. “Tell me.”

  “Protect us, Ulaur.” She sat on the floor and took up the Moon posture. “This is the deepest secret you will ever learn. Are you ready?”

  Navran swallowed and nodded. “Tell me.”

  “Fine.” She leaned close to Navran and spoke softly. “You’re right. Cauratha is not just an elderly saghada. He is the Heir of Manjur, the chosen of Ulaur. When the Kingdom is restored he or his heir will be the rightful king of Virnas and all lands south of the Amsadhu.”

  Navran’s hand froze above his bowl. The roti fell from his hand.

  Mandhi went on. “This is why Veshta supports him, or rather, why the estate which Veshta inherited has housed the Heirs for generations. The crypt beneath the estate is a buried remnant of the temple of Ulaur, from the days of Manjur. Many of the Uluriya know that it’s there, but we keep it a secret. Veshta knows that Cauratha is the heir, as does Taleg. There are a few other saghada in the city who may know or suspect. But no one else does.”