Coin of Kings (The Powers of Amur Book 2)

by J. S. Bangs

  He did have Dastha and a portion of his militia. Maybe force of arms would be impressive enough.

  Ahead, the rice paddy came to an end in a low mud dike, beyond which stood a line of tall palms and a wall of yellow stone. A wide gate allowed the road to pass through, and a man stepped out of the guardhouse into the middle of the road as they approached.

  “Thudra’s servants finally noticed us,” Srajan said. “I hope they’re not clearing the place out.”

  “Can’t,” Navran said. “Soldiers are on all the other roads.”

  “Oh,” Srajan replied, sticking his lower lip out in a fashion that admitted to being impressed. “Then you were prepared.”

  Navran smiled.

  The lone guard held his position in the middle of the road, but as they approached Navran could see his face wore an expression of barely-contained terror. When Navran stopped in front of him, he bowed and said, “My lords, how may I welcome you to Hauradi?”

  Navran gestured to Dastha and his herald, who had been walking a few paces behind him. The herald stepped forward and announced in a booming, imperious voice, “Navran-dar, King of Virnas and Heir of Manjur, enters with Srajan-kha of Mudhisha and Udarma-kha of Asandhu. The House of Thudra has fallen under judgement for its debts and its rebellion. This estate is forfeit to Navran-dar and the House of Manjur, and will be apportioned among its creditors.”

  The gate guard looked at them with an expression of helplessness. Dastha stepped forward and spoke in a low voice.

  “Just let us in. There’s nothing you can do.”

  The man nodded and bowed quickly to Navran and the majakhadir. “May I go tell my lady?”

  Dastha glanced back to Navran, who nodded. The man sprinted toward the estate itself.

  “Is that all the resistance we’re going to face?” Udarma asked. “I’m wondering why we brought all these soldiers.”

  “We don’t face resistance because we brought soldiers,” Navran said.

  They marched through the narrow gate. On the other side of the wall was a small garden of flowering shrubs and orange trees with green fruits, encircling a wide, low estate with walls painted yellow and a roof of red tiles. Once through the gate, the soldiers behind them split into squads to secure the other gates, leaving Dastha and a core of men following the nobles.

  “I would have thought that Thudra had a nicer estate than this,” remarked Srajan. “These gardens are rather pitiful. Or maybe he just had a bad gardener.”

  “His father only became king of Virnas after the first attack of Ruyam,” Udarma said. “The Emperor gave him the city for sycophancy. Their house didn’t have enough time to get truly rich. Or else we probably wouldn’t be here today, no?” He chuckled to himself.

  “They came out less well on Ruyam’s second appearance,” Srajan said, gesturing to Navran. “Amusing how Ruyam attacked the city twice and only ever succeeded on getting the king changed.”

  They arrived at the main entrance of the estate, a pair of wide wooden doors through which peered a set of nervous eyes. Dastha stepped forward, but before he could put a hand on the door it swung open to reveal a doorman, with a gaggle of servants and housemaids cowering behind him.

  The doorman prostrated himself before Navran. He grabbed Navran’s ankles and began to plead. “Navran-dar, merciful king of Virnas, take pity on us and spare our lives. We are your faithful servants.”

  “Don’t worry,” Navran said. “No one should get hurt.” He glanced to the herald and nodded.

  The herald stepped forward and announced, “Bring me the house-master, the keeper of the purse, and the lady of the house. This estate and everything in it is to be apportioned between Srajan-kha and Udarma-kha. Do not fight, and no one will be harmed.”

  The doorkeeper rose to his feet and whispered a command to one of the servant girls. “The house-master and the purse will be here at once. But Sarmadi-kha has barricaded herself into an inner room and will not come out.”

  “Take me there,” Navran said. “She’s my problem.” He nodded to Srajan and Udarma. “You two divide your spoils, but remember that whatever coin the purse has is mine.”

  The doorman led Navran into the estate with Dastha. The interior was dark and cool after the bright swelter outdoors, and the doorman brought them to the heart of the estate, where there was a heavy wooden door with a bronze ring in it.

  “Here,” the doorman said. He pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge. “Sarmadi-kha, will you open the door?”

  A rustle of movement could be heard inside, but no answer. The doorman looked at them helplessly and shrugged.

  “Dastha,” Navran said, and gestured to the ring. “Open the door.”

  Dastha set his spear down, put his foot near the bronze ring, and gave a single kick. The door flew open with a violent crack and sent splinters flying. From inside, a sharp scream.

  “These inner doors aren’t meant to resist attack,” Dastha said with a smile. He gestured into the room. “My lord and king.”

  Navran stepped into the room. A quiet whimper greeted him. Against the far wall was a woman in her thirties, hair the color of iron with strands of silver. Fear made the lines of her face stand out. A young girl hid her face in her mother’s sari. In the corner of the room a young woman, no older than sixteen, crouched on the floor with her arms across her knees and her face hidden behind them. A tall, lanky boy stood in front of them with his fists up and his teeth bared. None of them moved.

  Abruptly the boy shouted, “You leave my mother alone!” He launched himself toward Navran and beat his fists against Navran’s chest.

  Dastha grabbed the boy around the waist and threw him to the ground. The boy flailed, but Dastha calmly put a knee in the boy’s chest and pinned his fists to the floor.

  “Stop it,” Dastha said with annoyance. “I left my spear outside, and I don’t want to have to use it against you anyway.”

  The boy struggled for a moment against Dastha’s grip, then went limp. He looked from Dastha to Navran with a glare of hatred.

  “Spare us,” the woman said. “He’s only thirteen. We are no threat to you.”

  “You are Thudra Sarmadi-kha?” Navran said.

  The woman nodded. “Have pity.”

  “I’m taking you to Virnas.”

  “Virnas!” she shrieked. “So you can finish us off in public?”

  “I won’t kill you,” Navran said calmly.

  “Then you’ll make me a housemaid and take my daughters for concubines.” Sarmadi lowered her head and hid her face in the hair of her younger daughter for a moment. The little girl squeezed her mother tightly and whimpered. Then she raised her gaze and fixed Navran with a despondent stare. “I know how it is with kings. My husband was a king, and I know precisely what he would have done in your case.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “No,” Sarmadi said, and the fear in her eyes turned to disgust. “You’re that Uluriya usurper.”

  “Your husband is in my dungeon,” Navran said. “You and your family can join him.”

  “In a dungeon,” Sarmadi said. “How generous. Until you take away the girls for your amusement, and then my son for your army, or slave labor, or whatever you want from him. I know how it is with kings.”

  Navran sighed. Loud footsteps sounded through the hallway. A soldier ran toward him, bowed, then announced, “Navran-dar, my lord and king! The housekeeper and the purse have been found. Srajan-kha and Udarma-kha are dividing up the estate as agreed with the housekeeper. You should come and see the purse.”

  “Send three men,” Navran said. He pointed to Sarmadi and her children. “To keep these under guard.”

  The soldier bowed and ran away.

  “Three men to guard three women and a boy?” Dastha asked. “You must not think much of us.”

  “I want to be sure,” Navran said. “No one hurt them.” He gave Sarmadi a long stare, but her expression of sorrow and disdain did not change.

  The guards arrived a
nd arranged themselves around the broken door. Dastha released the boy, who got up rubbing his wrists and staring at the soldiers with disconsolate hatred.

  Navran and Dastha found the two majakhadir on rugs across from a jowly, balding man in a rumpled kurta. He had a stack of palm-leaf pages in front of him, which he was reading carefully. Smaller stacks of pages lay beside the two majakhadir.

  “Ah, Navran-dar,” said Udarma jovially as soon as Navran entered. “We’ve figured out what we’re doing here. Srajan here is taking possession of this property. A winter estate, no?”

  “Too hot in the summer,” Srajan said with a sour look. “And I have to fix the garden.”

  “And now we’re splitting up the village parcels.” It took Navran a moment to understand that Udarma meant tax parcels, the documents which specified which peasants owed tax to which khadir. “There seems to be plenty to satisfy the debt,” Udarma went on, “so there’s no further worry there. But you should look at the purse.”

  He gestured to a chest of shining ebony against the wall of the room, atop which sat a thin man. At the mention of the word ‘purse,’ the man rose and bowed to Navran.

  “I’m Thudra-dar’s purse,” the man said, then quickly corrected himself. “Thudra’s purse. Unfortunately, this is all of the coin that we have in the estate.”

  He opened the lid of the chest to reveal two small sewn silk bags. Navran pried them open and found each of them half-full of silver coins.

  “The truth is, Navran-dar,” the man said quietly, “that since Thudra’s capture the estate was running desperately poor. I made it last as long as I could, but the house-master”—he gestured to the jowly man counting out tax parcels with the majakhadir—“would not dismiss staff.” He sighed.

  Navran’s stomach fell. He was hoping for more. He was hoping to pay his soldiers with the money from Thudra’s estate. He doubted this was enough.

  But the purse had worked with it. “You made this coin last,” Navran said. “What’s your name?”

  “Vaija,” the man said.

  “You have a job in Virnas,” he said. “The King’s Purse I have appointed is good, but she needs help.”

  “She?” Vaija said, looking at him in surprise.

  “She,” Navran repeated. He turned to the majakhadir. “Finish quickly. I want to return to Virnas.”

  * * *

  The flowers were new. Navran pointed to the azure-glazed vases beneath the narrow windows of the treasure house, full of freshly-cut hibiscus from the royal garden.

  “You picked these?” he asked Josi.

  Josi looked up from the ledger she had been staring at. “Oh. No. The gardener picked them. It was my mother’s idea.”

  “Oh,” Navran said. “I thought—”

  “I’m unfortunately not the one to come to if you want someone to think of delicate, feminine touches to add to a room. My mother scolded me about it and told me to talk to the gardener.”

  “But you arranged the rest of it.”

  The treasure house of the palace in Virnas had been transformed. Josi had taken the past few weeks to arrange the chaos of records, storage boxes, ledgers, and slates left by Karanja’s departure into a neat and well-ordered office, and Navran had visited frequently over the past weeks to see the progress which Josi had made. The details of the administration were beyond him, but he took pleasure in seeing his Purse and what she had done.

  Solely an administrative interest, of course.

  Josi nodded. “I finally got everything put away so that I know where it is.”

  “Even the money?”

  She chuckled. “As much of that as I can find.”

  Navran nodded. “And for that, I brought you someone.”

  He nodded to Dastha waiting at the entrance to the office of the treasure house. Dastha pulled aside the curtain and gestured someone in, and a moment later Vaija entered and bowed to Navran.

  “This is—” Navran began. Then he noticed Josi’s crestfallen look. “Is something wrong?”

  “You brought someone.” Her tone expressed clearly how little she wanted it.

  Vaija looked from Navran to Josi, and his expression of confusion mirrored Josi’s disappointment.

  Navran drew in his breath. “Vaija. Purse of Thudra’s estate in Hauradi.”

  “And?” Josi said guardedly.

  “He will be the palace house-master.”

  “Oh,” she said and let out a long breath. Her stony expression melted into relief. “I thought he was going to be the Purse.”

  “Oh, no,” Vaija said rapidly. “I was called in because—well, precisely because I managed the king’s household—the former king’s household purse well.”

  “Are we sure this is wise?” Josi said, looking at Navran with eyebrow’s raised. “The last hire we took from Thudra didn’t end well.”

  “Difference is, Vaija doesn’t like Thudra,” Navran said.

  Vaija laughed nervously. “Not that I would be disloyal, my lord and king, to anyone that had rightfully employed me. But yes, Thudra and his house-master spent without compunction, despite my pleading. Navran-dar informs me that it is not so in his household.”

  Josi nodded smartly. “We’re trying to recover from that recklessness. And theft.”

  “Show her what we have. From Thudra’s estate.”

  Vaija came forward, removing the heavy purse of silver coins that had been tied around his waist. He crouched before Josi’s ledger and set the purse down.

  “All that was left of Thudra’s private fortune,” Vaija said. “I expect the palace treasury would be in better shape.”

  “You’d expect that,” Josi said, “but you’d be wrong.” She pried open the laces of the purse and began to count the coins inside.

  “Can I pay my soldiers?” Navran said.

  “With this?” Josi gave him a pained expression and shook her head.

  As he had thought. He sighed deeply. “Have to go talk to the Horn. Josi, teach Vaija what he must know.”

  Josi bowed her head to him. “As you say, my lord and king.”

  Navran marched out of the treasure house with Dastha on his tail. Rice harvest was beginning. The men hired from outside Virnas needed to return to their villages. And that meant he had to pay—or stall.

  He found the Horn of Virnas—Kaudhara-kha, as Navran had finally learned his name—in the palace armory. He stood to attention when Navran entered.

  Navran accepted his bow and lowered himself onto a stool in the corner of the room. Kaudhara sat down in the seated Cane posture atop the rug in the center of the armory and waited for Navran to speak.

  “Harvest,” Navran said. “Already started in some villages.”

  “Yes,” Kaudhara said.

  “Soldiers going home?”

  “A few have requested their dismissal and permission to leave. I have denied their requests… for now. I can’t hold them long.”

  Navran nodded. “If you say no?”

  “The men have to return for the harvest. Eventually, I expect most of them will simply desert, if they have to.”

  Driving the men to desertion was one way to avoid paying them. But he hoped to be an honorable king. “Just talked to Josi. No money to pay soldiers.”

  Kaudhara grimaced.

  “But we can stall.”

  “Stall, my lord and king?”

  Navran nodded. “Let them go. Discharged with pay—but not now. Pay after harvest and winter planting.”

  “The winter planting won’t be finished until nearly two months from now.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And if they won’t take it?”

  Navran adjusted himself atop the stool and winced as a bolt of pain passed through his nearly-healed burns. “Then they get no pay.”

  “But in two months, you’ll pay them?”

  He had no idea how, but he would at least have time. Half the work of being a debtor was angling for more time. He nodded. “Pay after harvest.”

  Ka
udhara bowed. “As you command, my lord and king. I’ll notify the lieutenants and have them spread the word to the men.”

  “Now, the other thing.”

  A shadow of discomfort passed over Kaudhara’s face. “My advice, Navran-dar, is that you don’t do this. Keeping Thudra in the palace dungeon is one thing, but bringing him into the palace itself—”

  “A woman and three children, Kaudhara-kha.”

  “Yes, they’re here, and I understand that you won’t put them in the dungeon. But their husband, the former king.”

  “They’ll be guarded.”

  “I have assured that,” Kaudhara said with a grim nod. “I couldn’t possibly approve this otherwise.”

  Navran rose from his stool. “Bring Thudra now. Guard them. Nothing else.”

  The Horn of Virnas drew his lips together and bowed. “As you wish.”

  Navran arrived at the chamber set aside for Thudra moments before the prisoner himself. The guards pushed Thudra through the door and unshackled him with rough indifference. He rubbed his wrists and took in the room’s meager furnishings: five floor mats laid out along two walls, a plain wooden chest, and a clay ewer. He fixed Navran with a contemptuous scowl.

  “What is this about?” Thudra said. “Are you dedicating this room to our games of jaha?”

  “I went to Hauradi,” Navran said.

  A bolt of surprise and dismay erased Thudra’s contempt for a moment. Then the mask dropped back into place. “Finally,” he said dismissively. “You’re visiting the estate you took from me?”

  “No. I went with Srajan-kha and Udarma-kha.”

  “Oh.” He seemed to be trying very hard not to display any further emotion. “And what did they find?”

  “The estate is plundered. They divided your holdings between them. Your debts are paid.”

  Thudra’s eyes narrowed into angry slits. “You ruiner. Karanja-kha and I worked together for weeks to make that trap for you. Now you’ve reduced my whole family to penury.”

  Navran folded his arms impassively. “I didn’t incur those debts.” He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re here.”

  There was a brief moment of resistance in the hall, then someone shoved Thudra’s son into the room. Sarmadi and the two daughters followed a moment later. Thudra’s hatred melted off his face. The girls gasped and ran to their father, then Sarmadi crossed the room smiling, bowed, and accepted her husband’s kiss.