Fire of Ages (The Powers of Amur Book 6)

by J. S. Bangs

  A look of shock crossed Basadi’s face. Vapathi cringed. Why couldn’t the girl keep her mouth shut? There was nothing to be gained by making Basadi interested in them.

  “You,” the Empress said. “What cup are you talking about?”

  Aryaji glared at Basadi defiantly. “Ask the Mouth of the Devourer. He will know.”

  Basadi pressed the tips of her fingers together and studied Aryaji closely. “I think I know who you are.”

  “Has the Mouth of the Devourer shared that knowledge with you?”

  “I don’t depend on him for everything,” Basadi snarled. She rose from the divan and crossed the room to Aryaji. She took the girl’s chin in her hands.

  Aryaji swiped Basadi’s hand away. “You do depend on him,” Aryaji insisted. “Does he know me? Has he learned who I am?”

  “He said to be on the lookout for a girl,” Basadi said. “Two of them, actually. Along with a book carried by the last thikratta.”

  “I thought he had forgotten that,” Vapathi said.

  Basadi whirled and looked Vapathi in the eye. “Why? Because he stopped pursuing the book in order to crush the Emperor in Jaitha?”

  “He hadn’t mentioned it for so long—”

  Basadi sneered at Vapathi. “He is no longer afraid of the book. He said merely to be on the lookout until everything in Virnas is prepared, lest one of you try to stop him.”

  “What?” broke in Mandhi. “What is the Mouth of the Devourer doing in Virnas?”

  Basadi sniffed. “Why should I tell you? You are not the girl seer. And this barbarian—” she waved dismissively at Kest “—he neither interests me nor the Mouth of the Devourer. I should probably kill all of you.”

  “Don’t,” Vapathi said. “Not if you want me alive.”

  “And who says I want you alive?” Basadi asked.

  “Kirshta does.”

  Basadi flinched. She lunged for Vapathi’s neck, but Vapathi grabbed Basadi’s wrists and swatted her aside. Devoured or not, Basadi was still just a woman younger than Vapathi.

  “You know not to say his name,” Basadi hissed. “It was devoured.”

  “As was yours, Basadi-daridarya,” Vapathi said. Basadi’s eyes blazed in anger. “But listen to me, Empress. My brother wants me to live, and he won’t allow you to kill me. But if you lay a hand on my friends, then I will kill myself, and you’ll suffer the anger the Mouth of the Devourer.”

  Basadi shook herself free of Vapathi’s grip and crossed the room to the divan. She draped herself across it with slow, patient regality, then looked at Vapathi with a cold stare.

  “So what if the Mouth of the Devourer wants you alive? I could kill you behind his back.”

  “You haven’t so far,” Vapathi observed. “You took the time to look for me.”

  “Maybe I want to toy with you first.”

  “I don’t think you can kill me. I think the will of the Mouth of the Devourer prevents you.”

  Basadi’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  “You know why you haven’t decayed, don’t you?”

  “Decayed?”

  “You’ve seen the old ones,” Vapathi said, waving at the Devoured leaning against the walls of the room. “The ones who have been Devoured too long. You know what happens to them.”

  Basadi continued to stare at her. Her scowl deepened as Vapathi spoke.

  “But you… you’ve been spared. The Mouth of the Devourer used his will to protect you. To keep you active. So half of your will is actually his. Maybe more than half. And with his effort sustaining you, I don’t think you can kill me.”

  Basadi suddenly laughed. “Would you like me to try?”

  “Leave me and my friends alone,” Vapathi said.

  “If you mean I should let you go, then no. But I suppose the Mouth of the Devourer won’t be upset if I bring the seer girl to him.” She stretched out her legs and did her best to regain her look of imperial indifference. She waved at the Devoured by the door.

  “Take them away. Put them in one of the rooms of the estate here. I’ll bring all of them back to Virnas, and we’ll see what the Mouth of the Devourer wants to do with them.” She gave Mandhi and Kest a long, hard stare. “And don’t try to run away. Where would you go? The countryside has nothing but starvation and the Devoured. We seized all of the food in the region and are carrying it to Virnas.”

  “And the peasants of these villages?” Mandhi asked.

  “They’ve all gone down to Virnas to meet the Mouth of the Devourer,” Basadi said. “A privilege which you’ll soon have as well. But we’ll guard you just in case. Go.”

  The Devoured closed around them again and led them away, and a few minutes later they were deposited in one of the bedrooms of the old majakhadir’s estate. It retained some elements of its former luxuries: a long divan beneath one of the windows, thick carpets on the floor, pillows and blankets stacked against the walls, a lacquered teak table in the center. Plenty of room for all four of them to sleep.

  Kest went over to the window and peeked out. He scowled and shook his head.

  “No help there?” Mandhi asked.

  “Opens onto the garden, which is full of Devoured. No chance to run for it.” He sighed. “Have to hope they can follow our voles.”

  “Voles?” Vapathi asked.

  “I’ve been leaving a trail,” Kest said.

  “What is a vole?”

  “It’s a kind of forest mouse,” Mandhi said. “They have them in Kalignas.”

  Kest went to the brazier in the corner of the room and picked up a pinch of black ash. He began to draw on the walls: a few stylized strokes, curling over themselves and into hard, thick points. When he was done, there was a picture which did, with a little imagination, look something like a mouse.

  “In the Kaleksha style,” he said with a note of satisfaction.

  “I still don’t understand,” Vapathi said.

  “I have been leaving these drawings in every village we passed through,” Kest said. “So if they come after us, they’ll know where we went.”

  “Do you really expect them to come after us?”

  “Of course I do,” Kest said. “Whether they’ll find this one here in the majakhadir’s house in Rignapu, I don’t know. I’ll try to make another on my way out of town.”

  “And the Devoured haven’t noticed you?”

  “I don’t think the Devoured care whether I leave graffiti on the walls of the abandoned villages.”

  Vapathi went to the divan and sat. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed heavily. “Okay, then. But… are we going to go with them to Virnas?”

  Aryaji took one of the cushions stacked against the wall and set it on the ground. She spoke softly and confidently. “We will go to Virnas, and we will meet the ones sent to save us.”

  “You seem very sure,” Vapathi said.

  “As I told her,” Aryaji said, “I will bring the Mouth of the Devourer the cup he has to drink. We will go to Virnas.”

  Mandhi stopped pacing and pointed at Aryaji. “Are you sure?”

  Aryaji simply stared at Mandhi with a glare that threatened to peel away Mandhi’s skin. Vapathi shivered. Sometimes she seemed like a normal girl, but sometimes she made Vapathi’s skin crawl. She probably did speak to a five-winged spirit.

  Mandhi sighed and collapsed onto a cushion. “If you say so,” she said. “Stars above, Aryaji. How long have you known?”

  “Since the Queen of Slaves joined us.”

  Mandhi started. She glared at Vapathi, then at Aryaji. “You knew who she was? And you didn’t say anything?”

  “If I had, you would have driven Vapathi out,” Aryaji said. “That would have been disastrous.”

  “You should have let me go,” Vapathi said softly. “Would have been better for all of you.”

  “Nonsense,” Aryaji said. “This is the will of Ulaur.”

  Kest let out a long, slow groan. “I do not like this business with the Powers. In Kalignas we did
not meddle with them.”

  “In Kalignas we didn’t have the Mouth of the Devourer to contend with,” Mandhi said. “We’d better hope that Ulaur is guiding us.” She gave Vapathi a sharp glance. “And that your brother’s pity extends from you to us.”

  Vapathi’s tongue suddenly grew dry. “I hope it does,” she said.

  Navran

  The gates of Patakshar were wide open, welcoming them into the city like a mother picking up a child. Bidhra’s militia stood in orange and rose livery atop the wall, and as soon as Navran and his cohort had passed beneath the arch of pink granite they were surrounded by dozens of his soldiers holding spears aloft and cheering.

  Navran-dar of Virnas! Stars upon the Heir of Manjur!

  Navran smiled feebly and waved. Bidhra must have sent them. Navran had no herald of his own, and perhaps Bidhra was trying to compensate.

  A herald approached them. “Most high Navran-dar, king of Virnas, Heir of Manjur, will you accompany me to the palace of Bidhra-dar king of Patakshar, who awaits your coming with great rejoicing?”

  “Ah, yes,” Navran said. The herald bowed. “Is everyone else safe?”

  “All others evacuated from Virnas have arrived,” the herald said. “Your group is the last.”

  “Good,” Navran said.

  His party consisted of himself, Srithi, Caupana, Yavada, and a few soldiers from his retinue. They had joined Yavada in Ahunas, where he had maintained his estate as a way-station for the evacuation, and only when Navran came had he abandoned it to flee to Patakshar with the last of them.

  They marched through the city. Patakshar was less stricken than he had feared. The famine here was less intense, and the peasants he saw had more meat on them than the walking skeletons they had encountered in the inland villages. They passed markets, and he saw fish weighed on scales and eels fried in skewers. Even a few sacks of ground corn. The pink granite of the outer wall was untouched, the orange-clad militia still had their strength and their spears. A stir of hope blew through him. There was a chance they would be able to survive in Patakshar after all.

  The street from the outer gate to the inner gate was a long, straight thoroughfare, and Patakshar’s militia marched them down it with sharp efficiency. As they approached the gate of the inner walls, the blast of a ram’s horn greeted them, and Navran spied Bidhra himself waiting beneath the arch.

  They stopped. Navran moved to the front of his retinue. He and Bidhra stood three paces apart. A stiff, simultaneous bow, then Bidhra crossed the last of the space and clasped Navran’s hand in his.

  “Navran-dar,” he said with warmth that surprised Navran. “You’ve made it. A darkness is lifted from my heart.”

  “It was a close thing,” Navran said. “We lost people escaping from the city.”

  “Were you harried on the road?”

  “No,” Navran said. That, at least, had been a relief. “The Devoured took Virnas and pursued us no farther. We haven’t seen any of them south of the Maudhu.”

  Bidhra heaved a contented sigh. “At least there’s that. I had men ready to rush out and rescue you in case you were being pursued—”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’d prefer they weren’t necessary. Come, follow me. I’ve prepared things for you and your party. Your queen is waiting for you.”

  Navran heaved a sigh of relief. “We follow.”

  Bidhra’s palace was just inside the inner walls of Patakshar. Rather than the solid rectangular block of the palace in Virnas, it was a loose collection of towers joined by shaded colonnades and surrounded inner gardens. The pools of water in the gardens were low, but the trees that drooped their branches over the pools were full of yellow blossoms.

  Bidhra led them to one of the smaller towers, three stories high, with filigreed crenellations on its roof and walls decorated with painted friezes of ocean scenes. At the arch cut into the base of the tower, Bidhra stopped.

  “I’ll go no farther,” he said. “Some of my guard is inside, but you may appoint your own. I have installed you and the queen on the top floor. You may move—”

  “It will be fine,” Navran said. “Thank you, Bidhra-dar.”

  “My pleasure, Navran-dar. It’s been a long time since any of the kings of Virnas visited Patakshar.”

  Am I still king of Virnas? Navran almost asked. Was there any Virnas left to be king of?

  Bidhra gave his greetings to the rest of Navran’s party as they entered. Navran continued into the cool, shaded hall and found the stairs that ascended to the upper floors. He climbed.

  It was not hard to identify his chamber. Where the stairs ended on the top floor, there was a wide hallway lit by a tall window. The window looked out over the inner city and across the harbor to the south, flooding the passage with the sound of gulls and the white light of summer. Next to the window was a curtained arch guarded by two men in Bidhra’s orange livery.

  The guards stole a glance at Navran’s travel-stained white garment. The first of them pursed his lips, but his partner elbowed him. They both bowed.

  “Navran-dar?” the guard asked cautiously.

  “Yes,” Navran said. “Is the queen here?”

  “She is,” the guard said with relief. “Please go in.”

  Navran entered the room, and a moment later Utalni was in his arms.

  She pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing her face against his neck. She smelled like salt and rosewater. He didn’t want to think about what he smelled like. Out of pity for her he pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length and looking her up and down.

  A clean sari, face freshly washed, hair tied neatly and a touch of kohl on her eyes. She looked like a queen. And her belly–a modest bump showed beneath her sari, just enough to make her condition unmistakeable. Navran drew his breath in sharply.

  “You’re well?”

  “I’m well, my lord and king,” she said softly. She pushed herself into his arms and kissed him.

  He kissed her back, restraining himself from making his kiss too strong and hard. “And the child?”

  “He kicks,” she said, and she giggled.

  He pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead again. It had been weeks since he had seen her, weeks in which he had comforted himself with the knowledge that she was safe. But to see her again…. He swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head. “How is Patakshar?”

  “Lovely. Bidhra-dar has been an exceptional host. I have became friends with his wife Dhashiti-dar. She accompanies me in the palace and the city, a great woman—two children they have—oh, but I’m forgetting. Virnas?”

  Navran closed his eyes and stepped back at the throb of pain. “As we thought,” he said.

  “Everyone got out okay?”

  “Not everyone.”

  Utalni grew silent. She squeezed Navran’s hand.

  “I should wash,” Navran said. “And change clothes. I should…. I would like to speak to Srithi.”

  “Why?”

  He took a deep breath. “She and Pashman got here safely. The rest of her household did not.”

  Utalni bit her lip. “Should I see her?”

  “Perhaps, when she’s ready. I won’t be long. I want to make sure she and Caupana are settled.”

  Utalni nodded, her painted eyelids flashing black as she blinked. “Come back quickly, my lord and king.”

  He left, nodded to the guards as they bowed, and descended to the lower floors. On the floor immediately below a man in Bidhra’s livery stopped him. He bowed. “Bidhra-dar is waiting for you, if you are ready, my lord and king.”

  “Bidhra-dar? Where?”

  “Find him in the garden.”

  He wanted to return to Utalni, but his blood was pounding with anger and sorrow. And he needed to wash and change—but if Bidhra-dar wanted to speak to him, better he get it over with now.

  He descended another floor, accepted the bows of the soldiers, and exited onto the marble-paved porch before the
entrance into the tower. Ten yards below, the porch opened onto a garden, carefully raked white sand nestled between flowering rhododendrons around a half-dried pool of lotuses. Bidhra stood by one of the lotus pools with his hands folded behind his back.

  Navran descended the stairs to the white sand and called out, “Bidhra-dar.”

  The king started. He turned swiftly and looked at Navran with a mild smile. “Navran-dar. I hadn’t thought I would see you so soon.”

  “Someone said you were looking for me.”

  A moment of confusion on Bidhra’s face, but it disappeared an instant later. “We have to discuss the city’s defense.”

  Navran bowed his head. “You would know more about that than I would, Bidhra-dar.”

  “I know the defenses of Patakshar, yes,” Bidhra said. “But you held out in Virnas long enough to evacuate all but a handful. A better outcome than most would have predicted. But Patakshar has to do better. There is nowhere else to run.”

  Navran doubted whether Patakshar would hold out any better than Virnas. But they might as well listen. “Tell me.”

  “As you saw when you entered the city,” Bidhra said, his voice shifting into a proud, explanatory tone, “Patakshar has a double set of walls. The inner city, where the palace and the docks are, is the old city, from the early days of the Seven Kingdoms. The outer city was once just a collection of suburbs, but a secondary wall was built around them. So we have two layers of defense.”

  “How strong are the outer walls?”

  Bidhra shrugged. “High enough to be an obstacle to any mob of infantry. But easily scaled with ladders.”

  “The Devoured had ladders in Virnas. The city fell because they climbed over the wall.”

  Bidhra grunted. “But the inner wall is twice the height of the outer. The royal chronicle mentions several occasions when the outer walls were breached, but since the construction of the outer wall, the inner has never fallen.”

  Navran was not comforted. “The Devoured took the Dhigvaditya, which was stronger than your inner city.”

  “There was sorcery there,” Bidhra said dismissively.

  “And you think the Mouth of the Devourer cannot bring the same power against your walls, if he must?”