by J. S. Bangs
Navran glanced at Vidham. The boy was no more than thirteen years old, skinny as a starving goat, with a glum, sulky expression. Perhaps he could injure Dastha with the force of his melancholy.
“We’re here to negotiate,” Navran said. “I want Sundasha-kha.”
“Of course you do,” Thudra said. “Nephew of Sadja-dar, heir to the throne of Davrakhanda. Terrible, terrible things would happen if he were injured.”
“Is he injured?”
“No,” Thudra said. “I’m sure you’d like to establish that, so if you’ll look across the garden—there, beneath the palms. You can see that he walks on his own two feet, even if he’s escorted. You know he and Vidham are about the same age? I suspect if he stays here much longer they’ll be fast friends.”
Sundasha stood in the shade of two of the palms, accompanied by a pair of men with bronze knives at their waist and humorless expressions. He raised his hand to wave to Navran, then was rushed hurriedly aside. He disappeared into another wing of the estate.
“Are those your men, Thudra?” Josi asked. “Where did you get them?”
“Those are retainers in Yavada-kha’s service,” Thudra said. “Yavada-kha has indeed been the most wonderful host. Better than the treatment I received in the palace at Virnas—you should take your cue from him, Navran-dar.”
Navran glanced at Yavada with a cold expression. “He should learn who his king is.”
Yavada did not move, his expression placid and imbecilic. “Oh, he does,” Thudra said. “And this is why I’m here in Ahunas, enjoying a bit of sunshine and some time spent with old friends.”
“How do you think this ends, Yavada-kha?” Navran said.
Yavada rubbed his eely fingers together and stroked his chin. “Navran-dar, my lord and king, the majakhadir of Ahunas have long been friends with the lineage of Thudra. Our fathers were friends, and our grandfathers before that—this was even before the House of Thudra were named the kings of Virnas, before the first time the mad thikratta came out of Majasravi. Many marriages, many children between us—my younger daughter Tuladi is betrothed to Vidham here, though it’ll be years before that marriage is performed. You understand.”
“I understand betrayal.”
Yavada gave him an expression of genuine hurt, as if he was truly perplexed that Navran wouldn’t rejoice in the decades of mingling between the majakhadir and the deposed kings. He sighed, folded his hands together again, and glanced at Thudra.
“Enough discussion of hospitality,” Thudra said. “You came here for a reason, no? You wish to ransom Sundasha-kha. You even brought that wench who plays as your Purse along with you. Did you bring the treasure boxes of Virnas as well?” He leered at Josi.
“I did not,” Josi said. “They’re too large to fit in the folds of my sari.”
“I’m sure that Navran will get into the folds of your sari instead,” Thudra said. A flash of hatred darkened Josi’s eyes, but before she could answer, Thudra went on. “My demand is one thousand silver talents.”
Josi snorted then put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. Navran raised an eyebrow, then said to Thudra, “Let me consult with my Purse.”
“Of course,” Thudra said, his expression smug and mocking.
Navran leaned over and put his hand on Josi’s cheek, pulling her ear close to his lips. He wanted to kiss her—she leaned into him, anticipating his touch—but this was adamantly not the time. He considered, not for the first time, that those who had told him it was a bad idea to have a woman for his Purse were not entirely incorrect. He asked her, “Do we have the money?”
She rolled her eyes and cupped her mouth over Navran’s ears. “Three kingdoms don’t have that money. His request is absurd.”
She turned her head so he could whisper back into her ear. “If we sold something?”
Josi shook her head. “What would we sell? The most valuable things we had we already gave up to pay the army.”
A pang of regret passed through Navran. The rings of the house of Manjur were safe in the household of a loyal Uluriya named Gaudam, where Navran couldn’t recover them until he repaid his loan. A necessary evil—and something he could only do once.
He straightened and looked back at Thudra. “No,” he said bluntly. “Too much.”
“Too much for a pauper who’s impoverished his kingdom, you mean,” Thudra said. “Perhaps Sadja-dar’s nephew will simply have to wait until you’re properly motivated.”
“Your request is ridiculous,” Josi said. “We could ransom the Emperor himself for that money.”
Thudra raised an eyebrow. “I want that money and passage to Patakshar. As long as you’re still pretending to the throne of Virnas, I need to be farther away from you than Ahunas.”
The journey from Virnas to Ahunas took four days. How much farther was it to Patakshar? Not far enough—as far as Navran was concerned, Thudra should keep going past Patakshar until he drowned in the sea.
“We cannot,” he said simply. “You want anything, you renegotiate.”
“Or I’ll keep the boy until you become more creative. And more motivated.” He looked at his fingernails and said, “Maybe I should send a message to Davrakhanda, to inform Sadja-dar of how well you’re taking care of his heir.”
A stone of dread tumbled through Navran’s stomach. “I could take this city with my army.”
“Now,” Yavada said suddenly, leaning forward and spreading his hands on the table. “No violence will be necessary. Ahunas swears fealty to Virnas, and no fealty has changed. No armies need march out, no one will be stabbed, no knives will be hidden beneath a dhoti for assassination.”
“Fealty?” Navran said. “This is not fealty.”
Yavada grimaced. “My lord and king,” he said, raising a hand as if to say something, but he seemed to lose his words and he set his hands back onto the table with a flustered grimace.
“His fealty is to Virnas,” Thudra said, crossing his arms over his chest, “and whoever its rightful king is.”
Navran breathed heavily. “By when?”
Thudra shrugged. “I don’t really care. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Perhaps if I have a year to gather money—”
Thudra laughed. “I don’t want to wait that long. And within a year, Sadja-dar will hear about this and may come down with his boats and do something about it.”
“When you make an impossible demand,” Josi spoke up, “you may find it takes a long time to be fulfilled.”
“I’ll give you two months,” Thudra said. “On the second sickle moon from today, I’ll see you again here in Ahunas.”
“Fine,” Navran said. He reached forward and plucked one of the sticky rice balls from the tray in the center of the table, which had lain untouched while they’d argued. He took a bite, then looked pointedly at Yavada. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Their leave-taking was rapid and awkward. Navran chewed a rice ball—it was actually very good, Yavada’s boast about them was well-deserved—and scowled at every person he saw until Dastha reclaimed his weapons and they were back at the outer wall of the estate. The remainder of Navran’s guard waited to accompany them.
“That was a good choice, playing for time,” Josi said. Their passage kicked up dust on the road connecting Yavada’s estate to the center of Ahunas. A wealthy Uluriya merchant had invited them into his estate within the city, where they would spend the night. “If we had a year, we might be able to wring that much money out of the salt monopoly, if we didn’t spend it on anything else.” She covered her mouth and laughed to herself. “And here I thought if I married a king, I wouldn’t have any more problems with money.’
“You’re the Purse. You above all others know our problems with money,” Navran said. A twist of fear tightened his throat. He drew a deep breath and said, “I haven’t spoken to Veshta. About us.”
“I know,” Josi said mildly. “If you had, I would certainly have heard of it from him. And from my mother.” She made an
expression of irritation.
“You’re upset with me?” Navran said. “Thudra—”
“No, I understand,” Josi said. “I didn’t expect you to go to my brother right away, and I certainly didn’t expect it with the chaos that’s gone on in the palace recently.” She sighed. “What if…”
She didn’t continue for a long time. “What?” Navran asked.
“What if we asked Sadja-dar for the money?”
Navran blinked. He had expected something regarding their betrothal. “No,” he said. “I don’t want Sadja-dar’s anger.”
“You might have it one way or another,” Josi said. “If Thudra gets a message to Davrakhanda, he’ll know. Wouldn’t it be better to send our own message ahead of time in order to be able to fairly present the situation? Sadja-dar can hardly be too angry if we tell the truth: that Sundasha-kha was kidnapped by Thudra and is being held with the collusion of a worthless majakhadir who doesn’t know the meaning of loyalty.”
Navran made a noise of anger in his throat. “I don’t like it.”
Dastha spoke up next to him. “I would swear to the truth of your story. And does he want his nephew back?”
“You may have to beg,” Josi said, “but there are worse things than begging.”
Navran laughed mirthlessly. “I know it. I’ve begged for rice. Might as well beg for a kingdom.”
Josi gave him a smile that melted through the frustration in his chest. He let out a breath and watched her for a moment.
“I’ll send the letter,” he said. “When we get back to Virnas.” He’d be counting on Sadja to save him. Again.
Kirshta
Kirshta set the book aside and carefully folded the fragile palm-leaf pages back into the cover. He gently laced the knots which bound the ebony case and brushed aside a bit of dust that had gathered on the oiled wood. This was the last one—the last book in Ruyam’s library. Perhaps the greatest store of thikratta knowledge in the world now that Ternas had been burned.
And he still didn’t understand anything.
The stories were contradictory and bizarre, and none of them resolved the mystery of what Ruyam was looking for in Ternas. One source claimed Ternas had been founded by people who had come from the mountains carrying secret lore, and only later united with the thikratta of lowland Amur. A second source contained mostly ribald tales about lecherous thikratta seducing village girls, as some sort of polemic. It was interesting only because it attributed the founding of Ternas to the Uluriya—a claim Kirshta would have found risible had he not seen Gocam, the old master of the place, transformed into flame atop the Emperor’s Bridge in order to save the Heir of Manjur.
And did the people of the mountains have a secret lore? If they did, he had never heard of it. But he had only been twelve when he was taken. And the keepers of the Holy had their mysteries….
Nor was it clear why Ternas alone survived of the great houses of the thikratta which had existed before the Empire. The official story, laid down by the chroniclers of Aidasa, was that the Emperor had driven out the thikratta for teaching men to abhor the Powers or for teaching that men could become like the Powers by burning away the desires of the flesh. The doctrines of Acakta and Linjanya, in other words, the Way of Power and the Way of Being. The monastery at Ternas had been permitted to stay because its lama taught men to submit to the Powers, and most especially to Lord Am.
But Ruyam was Acakta—he despised the Powers and despised the men who worshipped them—and he had learned everything he knew at Ternas.
It was possible that—
No, he was turning himself around in circles. He rose from the reading table and put the book back with the other neat stacks on the shelves. He needed someone else. He needed Vapathi.
Vapathi didn’t read, but her mind was as sharp as his. She had reminded him that the best way to ruin someone is to tell the truth about them, so he should consider the terrible tales about fornicating thikratta were probably true, along with the story about their connection to the Uluriya.
The servant’s chambers were in a back portion of the Ushpanditya, hidden in the shadow of the walls of the Dhigvaditya. When he came through the door in the yellow of the Emperor’s Lotus the servants scattered like mice, bowing fervently and hiding themselves behind curtains as he passed. Specious scrupulosity. He knew where Vapathi slept, in a small bunk shared with four other women, and in a moment he found the room.
No one was there except for a skinny, trembling maid with pox scars on her cheeks, sweeping the floor with a leaf broom.
“Where’s Vapathi?” Kirshta asked.
The girl startled and looked at him with a rabbity expression. Upon seeing his yellow silk, her eyes grew wide with terror. “My lord,” she whispered.
Kirshta sidled closer to her. “I’m not here for the Emperor. You’re not in trouble.”
The girl nodded. Her expression didn’t change.
He asked again, “Where is Vapathi?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen her? It’s after sundown, and she should be serving me at this hour.”
“No,” the girl said. “I mean, my lord, that she’s gone.’
“Gone where?”
“Out… out of the Ushpanditya.”
Kirshta blinked. “Someone sent her on an errand?”
“No, my lord.” The girl rubbed her hands under her nose. She looked ready to cry. “I mean, the house-master sent her away. Sold her.”
Sold.
A chill passed through him. “But… I saw her yesterday. When did this happen?”
“This morning.”
The girl still hadn’t looked up at him. A nauseous storm of dread and worry began to brew in his stomach. “Why?”
The girl flinched.
“Oh, never mind, you don’t know,” Kirshta said. “Goodbye.”
The house-master. He was not one of the lower servants and didn’t live in the bunks by the Dhigvaditya, but had a spacious room only a little smaller than Kirshta’s near the entrance to the kitchens. He walked as fast as he dared without running and ruining his dignity. The curtain was drawn over the doorway, but he jerked it aside.
The man was sleeping. He blinked at the sudden influx of light, then bolted upright. “Who’s there?”
“The Emperor’s Lotus,” Kirshta said. “Where is my sister?”
The man rubbed his eyes and squinted at Kirshta.
“It is you, my lord.” He groaned and rose to his feet so he could bow. “I was expecting you, but not so quickly.”
“Where is she? You knew why she was assigned to me, and that I wanted no other.”
The house-master cleared his throat. “I sent her away. To keep her safe.”
“Safe? Safe from what?”
“From you,” the man said without hesitation.
“You talk madness,” Kirshta said. “She’s in no danger from me. I risked my life to come here and protect her, I would never—”
“Precisely,” the man said. “You love her. And if the Emperor ever knew she was your sister, he would instantly have her killed.”
Kirshta’s heart hiccoughed. A sharp pain, then a growing numbness as he realized it was true.
“I’m telling you,” the house-master went on, “because I believe you are good, but you don’t quite see. The servants are terrified for you, because you and Chadram and Vadya sit in judgement. New executions occur every day. The Emperor is nearly done with the Dhigvaditya and will soon begin purging the Ushpanditya. And when Vapathi is called, what will you say? She is your sister, she served the mad thikratta, and she served the treasonous Dumaya. Yet you lied to the Emperor about all of those things. Do you imagine the Emperor will suffer her to live? Do you imagine he’ll indulge you once it comes out?”
Kirshta’s breath came heavy. It was true. His mind had been filled entirely with the question of Ternas, and he hadn’t spared a moment to consider the implications of the task Praudhu had given him and Chadram.
&nb
sp; He was too comfortable with his power. When he was a slave this sort of thing would never have taken him by surprise.
“How long has she known?” he asked.
“Oh, I didn’t tell her,” the house-master said. “Just as I didn’t tell you. That would have been even more dangerous. But I have been culling the staff, finding those likely to be purged and quietly sending them outside the Ushpanditya.” He spread his hands. “I save who I can.”
“Good,” Kirshta croaked. “You did well. And yourself?”
The man’s eyes drooped in a fearful, plaintive expression. “I’m telling you this. I can’t save myself, but you might be able to, when you judge me.”
Kirshta bowed his head in regret. He was not the judge, and he couldn’t save the man with his word. That task fell to Chadram and Vadya. If Vapathi had come in to be examined, would he have been able to save even her? He doubted it.
“Where did you send her?”
“The house of Udagra-kha, majakhadir of Tulakhanda. An old man, very loyal to the imperial house. Udagra-kha will have no reason to suspect her, and the Emperor will have no reason to suspect the majakhadir. You can find her and visit her once the Emperor’s jealousy passes.”
“Thank you.” Kirshta bowed his head to the man with sincere gratitude. “I’ll remember you as an honest servant of the Emperor when I see you with Chadram.”
But he doubted whether his memory would do any good.
He returned to his room and lay on his reed mat. He closed his eyes as if to meditate, but the inner stillness fled from him, hidden beneath the churning noise of his thoughts. He should be able to still those thoughts—quieting the clamor of the body and mind was the essence of the thikratta’s discipline—but his will failed.
Vapathi.
He had contrived to return from Virnas to Majasravi, to the Emperor’s favor, so that they could be together and could protect each other. Gone. She was still somewhere in Majasravi, and he could find the house of Udagra easily enough if he needed to—but she had left, driven out by the imperial power which he had hoped would protect them. The house of Udagra might as well be the bottom of the sea.