Heir of Iron (The Powers of Amur Book 1) (5 page)

The woman kissed Mandhi hand. “Thank you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“No, listen. My father was the elderly saghada who performed the sacrifice today. The lady Srithi may help you with money, but my father can find you better lodging and get you established in the city. What was your husband’s trade?”

“He worked silver. But all of his implements were lost.”

“No matter. There are many here who could take an assistant. We just have to find them. Talk to Srithi, and I’ll find my father.”

Mandhi shook the water from her hands and headed into the rear of the estate where the kitchens lay. The smell of roasting goat intensified as she approached. Just outside the entrance, she found Cauratha, the other two saghada, and Taleg sitting on the ground with clay cups of rice beer balanced on their knees.

Taleg leapt to his feet with an obsequious bow and said, “Mandhi! What desperate errand brings you into the bowels of the estate like this?”

She could not help but smile. “I’m looking for my father.”

“You found him. Or rather, you found all of us lazing about after the sacrifice, which I’m sure injures your appreciation of sacred things.” He laughed. Perhaps a little too hard.

“As if I didn’t know what you men do after an offering.” She rolled her eyes and knelt next to her father.

Cauratha regarded her with warm eyes rendered slightly hazy by his exhaustion and the effects of the beer. He reached out, patted her hand, and said, “My dearest Mandhi. You need me?”

“A woman from Majasravi spoke to me. She needs help.” And she briefly explained what the woman had said.

Cauratha nodded many times and closed his eyes. He sighed deeply and stroked his beard. “There is a saghada who lives in the East Quarter who would know the silversmiths better than I. Ghauna, unless I have mistaken his name.”

The name
Ghauna
burned in her ears, but she bit her lip and pretended it meant nothing. Her father continued, apparently oblivious.

“I don’t believe you’ve ever met him. He was here when Ruyam came twenty-five years ago, though he was a boy, then, and I believe he had an older brother who was killed. Or perhaps it was his uncle…. Oh, forgive me, Mandhi. I’m rambling. What I mean to say is this: he could connect them with another smith in the area, help them set up a shop, though I doubt he’d take them in himself. He has a reputation for avarice and stinginess, a terrible combination. But I do not judge him. He serves Ulaur—”

“There was something else I wanted to ask,” Mandhi broke in before her father’s monologue could wander too much further, and before she could dwell too long on the unfortunate coincidence of Ghauna. Taleg, sitting on the other side of her father, appeared completely indifferent to the tale. “The woman spoke of a purge in Majasravi. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Were you aware?”

Cauratha’s expression grew serious, and the muttering saghada sitting across from him quieted. He pursed his lips. “Rumor had reached me,” he said quietly.

“When? How long ago?”

“It has been growing quietly over the past few months. So far, only in Majasravi, and only recently has it become grave. But I’ve received several reports of this from our brothers in Majasravi.”

Mandhi fell against the wall and rested her head in her hands. “You never said anything to me or Taleg.”

“You were busy finding Navran.”

But of course that was why he wanted to find Navran so badly. “Do you think it will spread?”

Cauratha put his hand over hers. “We’ll talk about this over the meal. I have things to tell you and Navran both.”

It was the worst new moon feast she had ever been to. As usual, the table for the household was crowded with figs, pomegranates, mangoes, and roti, a feast which was duplicated on the tables in the courtyard from which the rest of the worshippers ate. The roasted goat legs filled the room with the fragrances of fat, cumin, and salt, but it all tasted like uncooked rice in her mouth. Taleg sat three seats away, but Srithi was next to her, and Cauratha on the other side. Her gaze wandered constantly to her husband, smiling and joking with Navran and Veshta, but she cast it aside just as often. Srithi was watching, her lips pursed in disapproval. Eventually someone would notice if Mandhi’s eyes were always on Taleg.

When their dishes were mostly empty of rice, Cauratha assumed the Moon posture, crossing his legs, straightening his back, and resting his left hand on his ankles. Mandhi put her hands on her knees palm-up and bowed her head in the Palm posture, and within a few seconds everyone at the table had done the same except Navran. He viewed the table with confusion for a moment. Taleg nudged him with his elbow and whispered. Navran awkwardly copied Taleg’s pose.

“This is our first feast with Navran,” Cauratha said. “We bow to the One Power who has reunited him to us.”

All the heads around the table bowed, and the word
thanks
echoed on the lips of all except for Navran. He bowed his head deep into his beard as if trying to hide from their gaze.

If Cauratha saw Navran’s discomfort, he ignored it. “Navran, you were bought yesterday from slavery, cleansed, and united to our house. I did not tell you immediately what our purpose was. But now I do. You are my son.”

The whole table was silent. Navran raised his head with an expression of guarded alarm. He looked from Cauratha’s face to Mandhi’s, then around the table. No one spoke. Cauratha extended his hand to Navran, inviting him to speak, but Navran looked at it as if it were a cobra. The silence went on far past the point of discomfort before Cauratha continued.

“You may have questions. You said yesterday that your father gave you the star-iron ring, from which I gathered that you had a father. But the ring was not his. It was always yours. Your father must have raised you as a foundling, though I suspect that he never told you. Your ring, you see, is a copy of mine.”

He raised his hand and showed the star-iron band on his first finger to all of them. The hair on Mandhi’s neck stood up. He wouldn’t reveal himself
now
to Navran. Surely he wasn’t that foolhardy.

Cauratha gestured to her. “Mandhi wears one copy. There are a few others, which would have belonged to my other children if there had been any. Mandhi’s mother—your mother—died shortly after Mandhi was born, nineteen years ago. I never remarried. And we believed that you had died twenty-five years ago when Ruyam came to Virnas.” He hesitated for a moment. “Have you heard of Ruyam?”

Navran looked away from Cauratha. He answered quietly, “I have. Only the name.”

“Then let me explain,” Cauratha said with a smile. He was in his didactic mode, the mode in which he had taught Mandhi everything she knew of the worship of Ulaur, the geography of Amur, history, finance, poetry, administration, cloth-dying, silver-smithing, navigation, and astrology. He was happiest reading, but after that he was happiest teaching. He took up the Teacher’s posture again and began to explain.

“Ruyam was an advisor to the Emperor thirty years ago. Perhaps more than an advisor—they said that as long as he was in Majasravi, he wielded more power than the Emperor himself. And under Ruyam’s influence the Emperor revived the old edicts against the Uluriya and sought to drive us from the shores of Amur. He began by purging Majasravi, Gumadha, and Davrakhanda of all who bore the pentacle, and the vassal kings of those cities acquiesced to him. But before that evil task was complete he took command of a portion of the imperial guard and marched to Virnas, burning every Uluriya habitation that he found along the way. He thought to rout the Uluriya entirely by destroying the ancient capital of Manjur. But he did not reckon that we have many friends here, even in the unclean world. The king of Virnas refused to turn the city over to him, going so far as to close the gates of the city in his face. Afterwards the Emperor ordered him killed and gave the kingdom of Virnas to the House of Thudra—” Cauratha said the name with a bitter scowl “—who so unworthily rules the city now.

“But I’m getting ahead of the story. Where was I? Ah, yes: when the old king wouldn’t open the gates Ruyam attacked, broke through, and attempted to pacify the city. There was battle in the streets for a day and a night, for the citizens of the city rose up to protect their friends and neighbors and to repair the insults which Ruyam had given to their city’s honor. And this is where your story begins.”

Kidri entered carrying a tray laden with cups of steaming tea. Cauratha accepted a porcelain cup from her hand and took a sip. The rest of the table took their cups while Cauratha continued to speak. “I was in Virnas at the time, but when the fighting began I fled with my wife, my son, and a nursemaid. The nurse carried the boy, since my wife was weak from childbirth and needed my assistance. We took the secret way, known only to the inhabitants of this house. There is a way out of Virnas through the Ruin beneath this house, descending through the catacombs. We fled in darkness and chaos. At some point we became separated from the maid, and we could not find her in the tunnels. Eventually we made it to the exit ourselves and took refuge in a nearby village, but we could not return to the city to search for them. By the time peace was restored it was too late. We never saw either of them again.”

He blinked rapidly and wiped at his eyes. He spoke in a gravelly whisper. “I thought my son was dead. I later had a daughter, Mandhi, who has been as much a blessing to me as any child can be, but no other son. And so I thought I would go to my grave, until Gocam told me otherwise.”

A smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You will meet Gocam some day. He’s a thikratta of Ternas, an old friend and ally, gifted with farsight and all of the other arts of the thikratta. He sent me a letter saying that I should seek a man named Navran who wore my son’s ring. I have never been happier. My son was alive. You were alive.” He pointed to Navran, his face flushed with pride. “So I sent Mandhi and Taleg to search for you. And eventually, they found you.”

Navran glanced from Mandhi to Taleg with an unreadable expression. Srithi glared at them. Her father, by the merciful stars, seemed not to notice.

“The ring was how they knew you,” Cauratha went on. “Mandhi went to great lengths to recover it from a man who had stolen it from you.” He raised his eyebrows at Navran looking for some confirmation, but Navran was a stone. “It’s the only thing of value—immense value—that we have. Otherwise, Veshta supports me as a saghada with my family. But we do well. I think you will find that the estate is comfortable and welcoming.”

He took another sip of tea and look at Navran with an expectant expression. “Do you have any questions?”

Navran looked down and fidgeted with the cup of tea in front of him. He dipped his finger into the liquid and ran it along the lip of the cup, sending a drop dribbling down the side. “What do you want from me?”

Cauratha blinked and leaned back. The eagerness of his face faded, and his jaw rocked for a little while as if he stuttered. “I want you to be my son.”

“I didn’t ask to be anyone’s son.” He clenched his jaw and put his fist on the table. “You’ve been kind to me. But I’m not like you. I can’t do anything good for you.”

“I am not asking you to do anything good,” Cauratha said. His voice began to crack. “I’m not asking you to do anything at all.”

Navran clenched and unclenched his fists. “You want me to stay here? Eat your food? Wander your halls?”

Tears began to trickle down Cauratha’s face. “My son. Having you here is reason enough.”

“No.” Navran gestured violently at the remnants of the feast on the table. “This isn’t my life. If you bring me here, I’ll only ruin it—”

“Navran, my son—” Cauratha broke in.

Navran ignored him. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re not telling me everything. One day you’ll show me your real game, and either I’ll get screwed, or you will.”

He lurched abruptly to his feet. “I’m going.” Cauratha’s chin fell against his chest and silent tears trickled into his beard.

Taleg grabbed Navran’s sleeve. “Sit down, man,” he whispered. “You’re not going to get many offers better than this one in your life.”

Navran shook his arm free. “I didn’t stomp on your lives.” He gave a long, pointed stare at Mandhi. “Now don’t stomp on mine.” He stalked past Veshta to the exit of the dining room.

Mandhi threw down her cup of tea and leapt up after him. He was storming down the hall, but she pulled up the skirts of her sari and ran after him until she caught him at the edge of the courtyard. She grabbed his arm and spun him to face her.

“Have some shame,” she hissed. “Or at least have pity.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “Pity for whom?”

“On Cauratha! Our father. Or are you too dense to notice him weeping?”

Navran slouched against the wall. Silence followed.

“Stay. For his sake.”
And for mine,
she added silently. “He’s close to death, and if you leave now, it might kill him.”

Navran’s gaze was unnervingly direct. “You take care of your father.”

“I try to.”

“And you screw the Kaleksha behind his back.”

She swung her hand to slap him, but stayed her hand just short of his face. He flinched. Mandhi gritted her teeth. “That’s not your problem. And we were properly married under the law of Ulaur.”

Navran’s chest heaved. He picked at the embroidery on his white cotton shirt. “You say it’s a kindness to the old man if I stay.”

“Yes.”

He looked back at Mandhi, and his stony glare melted into an earnest plea. “I’ve done worse for a meal and a bed. But I can’t to him now.” He shook his head.

“Stay in your chamber, then, or wander the estate. I’ll go back.”

When she returned to the dining room, Veshta and Srithi had left, leaving only Taleg holding Cauratha’s hand. Mandhi glanced down the hall to be sure no one lingered nearby, then pulled the heavy curtain shut behind her.

“That man should not be the next Heir of Manjur,” she spat.

Cauratha groaned. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. I had a son for two days. Now he’s gone.” He leaned into Taleg’s shoulder and began to weep.

“He’s not gone,” Mandhi said. “I caught up with him in the courtyard and convinced him to stay.”