Pride of Empires (The Powers of Amur Book 3)

by J. S. Bangs

  “She’s coming,” Dastha said.

  Navran glanced at Dastha in confusion. “She is?”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “Who called for her?”

  “I did, my king.”

  “Why?”

  Dastha bit his lip and looked nervously to the side.

  “Not your duty,” Navran said, but a pleasurable smile passed across his face. He hadn’t seen her for so long—barely at all since he had spoken to Veshta. Had Veshta told her of their conversation? He didn’t know.

  “Let’s go to the docks and talk to the other merchants,” Peshdana said amicably, putting his hand on the salt merchant’s forearm. “When the King’s Purse gets here, she will confirm any changes we make. Agreed?”

  The merchant grumbled but stepped out, and Peshdana left with him toward the docks.

  “Did you arrange this?” Navran asked Dastha.

  “With the salt merchant? No, that’s just luck.”

  Navran shook his head but could not summon the will to be annoyed at Dastha’s act of subterfuge. He glanced aside at the clerk, who still sat atop the coin chest, looking from Navran to Dastha with alarm.

  “Were you hurt?” Navran asked.

  The clerk shook his head rapidly. “No, my lord and king.”

  “Do you normally have a guard here?”

  He shook his head again. “Until now, we’ve never needed one.”

  “Maybe you should have one. For a while.”

  “We could spare a man from the palace guard,” Dastha said. “I will talk to the Horn of Virnas.”

  They heard footsteps outside, then Josi stepped through the door escorted by one of the palace guards. Josi saw Navran, stepped back a pace, and stammered, “Navran-dar, my king. I did not expect you here.” She bowed.

  “I didn’t expect you, either,” Navran said. He stepped aside and gestured to the clerk. “There was a salt merchant. Upset over prices.”

  “Oh, that,” Josi said. She shook her head. “I thought it might happen. Where’s Peshdana?”

  “At the dock.”

  “Don’t go to him yet,” Dastha said to Josi. “He wants you to audit the weights of the newest shipments first. He worries they have been shorted. Then he’ll come back with the merchants.”

  Josi gave Dastha a long, hard glare, then looked at Navran with a slight twinge of embarrassment showing on her face. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll check them.”

  “You and Navran-dar,” Dastha said. “I will stay here and guard, since the merchants may be angry and attempt to break in. When I hear from Peshdana that he’s calmed the merchants, I’ll call for you.”

  Josi closed her eyes and shook her head. She bowed to Navran and said, “My king, you first.”

  They entered the yard with the casks of salt rising on every side, and Josi set out with rapid, bouncing steps for the farthest corner, where a set of shelves obscured them from the entrance. When they reached the corner she turned and put her hands on her hips.

  “So?” she said, scalding Navran with a glare. “You needed to put together this ridiculously transparent ruse in order to speak to me in private?”

  “Not my ruse,” Navran said.

  “I’m sure,” Josi said, tossing her head mockingly. “Then whose?”

  “Dastha’s.”

  “That’s more initiative than I expect from a bodyguard.”

  And yet, Navran noted, both of them had arrived in the yard without putting up the slightest resistance to Dastha’s machinations. He smiled awkwardly at Josi. “I can have him flogged.”

  “No,” Josi said with irritation. She turned around and began counting casks of salt. “I suppose I might as well do the job that Dastha invented for me.”

  “Josi…” Navran said nervously. His heart was thundering in his chest. “Since we’re here, I…” He took a deep breath. “I spoke to Veshta.”

  “And?” Josi said, without interrupting her count. “He persuaded you to stop bothering me?”

  Have I been bothering you? he wondered. “He told me.”

  She stopped her count. “Told you what?”

  “About Habdana.”

  “Oh,” she said. Her hand dropped to her side. “Very well. I assume that your interest has waned, and our relationship may be entirely cordial after this.”

  “Nothing has waned.”

  Bitterness soured her voice. “Then perhaps you misunderstood what Veshta told you.”

  “I understood.”

  “Not well enough,” Josi said. “If you spoke to Veshta, then you should understand that the difficulty has nothing to do with your interest and everything to do with the fact that I am a soiled rag and not a suitable match for the Heir of Manjur.”

  Navran winced. He bowed his head then said, “Let me judge that.”

  She turned around, her fists on her hips, a fire in her eyes. “Yes, but exercise good judgement. There aren’t many who know. I wish you didn’t know, and I don’t need the entirety of Virnas gossiping about the queen—as if I could handle the thought of being a queen—and that’s exactly what would happen if you tried to marry me.”

  Navran looked her in the eyes, despite the pain it caused in his chest. “Not many know about me, either,” he whispered.

  Josi opened her mouth to answer, then shut it. A look of confusion crossed her face. “Know what?”

  The thundering in his chest grew louder, but he felt a lightness in his belly at the thought of telling the truth. “Should I list my impurities? I fell into being Heir, and I fought against my duties. My life was not one of purity and piety.”

  “So you suppose you’re debauched enough to settle for me?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Navran said with an edge of bronze in his voice. “I understand why you want to refuse me. I refused to be Heir, because I was a failure. I drank and gambled. I pissed myself in gutters. Ruyam tormented me, first with darkness, then with pleasure—”

  “When did Ruyam torment you?” Josi broke in. “This was not when he burned you on the field.”

  “Before that,” Navran said. “The part of the story that people don’t know. I was in the Ushpanditya. Ruyam gave me drinks and women. Threatened to burn me alive. And so I betrayed the ones who tried to save me.” His voice caught in his throat. “If any of us is a soiled rag, it’s me.”

  Josi was quiet. She held her hands folded together and looked into the dust. “So what? You’re still the Heir.”

  “Because Gocam taught me. Do you know Gocam?”

  Josi shook her head.

  “A thikratta of Ternas. A friend of the Heirs. He chastened me. Not for my sins. For thinking that my sins were an excuse to refuse my duty. And so I took the ring, its blessings and its curses. Like Gocam said: The gifts of the Powers can never be earned, only received.”

  “The Powers aren’t offering me any gifts,” Josi said bitterly.

  “But I am.”

  She looked up, met his eyes. Her eyes still burned with fire, but it wasn’t the fire of anger. “What are you offering me?”

  “A blessing and a curse. Be my queen.”

  She took a step closer to him. “A blessing and a curse? Is that a warning to make me run away?”

  He reached toward her, almost touching her hand, but hesitating just before his skin met hers. “It’s a warning. But not to make you run.”

  “Then I won’t run.” She brushed the tips of her fingers against his face. Then her breath caught in her throat and she turned away. “No, Navran-dar. It’s a terrible idea.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t… you are not a woman. Maybe your sins can be so easily brushed away. Mine cannot.”

  “Nonsense.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

  She flinched at his touch, but she did not push his hand away. “You say that, Navran-dar. You’d still have to convince Veshta and Amashi. I can’t….”

  “Do you want to refuse me?”

  She turned around and dr
ew close to him. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “No,” she whispered.

  “Then don’t.”

  She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face toward hers. Her lips pressed against his.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him. They kissed, lips crushed against lips, tongues mingling, cheeks brushing against cheeks. His blood burned in his veins. She tasted like honey and cinnamon, smelled like hibiscus, was soft and warm as a summer dream. Soft plump curves under his hands. The fabric of her sari felt as thin as vapor. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he felt her nipples like hard plum seeds through the choli. She slung an arm around his neck and the other around his waist and pulled herself into him. His hands groped down her hips and thighs, found naked flesh above her knees—

  “Navran-dar!” called out Dastha’s voice from the far end of the courtyard. “My lord and king, Peshdana has returned.”

  Josi stepped back with a gasp, then hurriedly tugged her rumpled choli into place, smoothed her sari, and wiped her face clean of sweat and saliva.

  “Wait,” she said. She stepped up to Navran and smoothed his kurta, then pulled his dhoti into place with a tickle on his thigh. She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed Navran’s neck.

  She gestured below Navran’s waist. “Give yourself a moment to stand down, then we’ll be ready to see Peshdana.”

  Navran could barely hear her over the roaring of blood in his ears. “I don’t think…” he started.

  “Oh, we’ll be fine,” Josi said.

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and waited a few moments for his blood to cool. He opened his eyes to see Josi looking at him with an impish spark in her eyes.

  “I think you look fine,” she said. “Very fine. Let’s go talk to Peshdana.”

  They found Peshdana in the office of the salt warehouse, chatting with Dastha with some annoyance. As soon as he saw them his face brightened and he said, “Ah, Josi. Delighted to see you. The salt merchants—”

  “I heard,” Josi said a little too quickly. She seemed suddenly nervous, squeezing her fists against her sari. “What price do they want?”

  “They want the old price back, but I think I convinced them to go lower—”

  “Halfway between what they got before and our first offer?”

  Peshdana grinned. “More or less as we planned it, no?”

  “Exactly.” Josi tipped her head and looked up at Navran with a self-satisfied smile. “You can tell them, truthfully, that the King’s Purse approved your generous change to the conditions, within hearing of Navran-dar. And tell them to praise the king’s generosity.”

  “Of course,” Peshdana said with a little bow. He gave Josi a warm smile. “I’ll take your leave, my lord and king. You have a remarkable woman for your Purse.”

  “I do,” Navran said. He gave Josi a glance of admiration. “Back to the palace?” he said to Dastha.

  Dastha bowed. “And the King’s Purse will accompany us?”

  “I will,” Josi said. She followed Navran out the door, and their escorts from the palace guard accompanied them.

  Custom dictated that Navran must lead with his guard. Every step he wished that Josi were next to him. He would clasp her hand, put his arm around her shoulders, her waist, pick her up in his arms—but no, this was public, and he could do none of those things. They ascended the stairs from the wharf district to the city walls, passed through receiving the greetings of the gate guards. Josi is with me, he wanted to tell. The King of Virnas will marry this woman. People bowed as he passed. Could they read the joy on his face? Did they see a King and his Purse, or two lovers? A voice called out—

  “My lord and king! You are urgently needed at the palace!”

  Ahead of them on the street, a herald in Navran’s white and blue livery was running. His face was flushed and shining with sweat, and people bolted out of his way. He saw Navran, fell to his knees, and said, “Navran-dar, come to the palace with all haste. A disaster—” His words petered out into gasps.

  “What is it?” Dastha demanded. “Should I go ahead of them?”

  The runner shook his head. “Thudra,” he said. “He demands to speak only to Navran-dar. He has Sundasha-kha.”

  “What?” Navran said. His fists tightened in alarm. Sundasha, Sadja’s nephew and the heir presumptive to the throne of Davrakhanda. Sadja had left him in Navran’s care to seal their alliance. “What did Thudra do to Sundasha-kha?”

  “Nothing yet,” the boy said. “But he threatens to. You have to come.”

  They ran. Navran glanced back to make sure that Josi kept up with them, then he turned his attention to the rocky streets. The palace was at the other end of the city. Disregarding all kingly dignity, he ran.

  The chaos was evident from the moment they passed through the palace gate. It seemed like the whole staff of the palace had emerged into the courtyard, and a circle of palace guards surrounded something unseen.

  “Navran-dar, the king of Virnas and Heir of Manjur!” Dastha shouted, plunging into the middle of the crowd. The people split before them, letting Navran and Josi through to the front ranks of the soldiers.

  Thudra stood near a closed side gate which let into the palace courtyard. His left hand held Sundasha by the hair, while his right grasped a bronze dagger which he pressed against Sundasha’s throat. The boy held his mouth shut and his eyes closed, and his jaw trembled.

  Four men surrounded Thudra and Sundasha, one of them Thudra’s son Vidham. He stood next to his father with a wooden beam, which he gripped as a club, while the others held bronze knives. They stood in a loose circle, the points of their knives out, grim expressions daring anyone to approach.

  “Navran-dar!” Thudra shouted as soon as Navran breached the front line of the palace guard. “Glad to see you finally got here. This,” he said, shaking Sundasha with his grip on the boy’s hair. “Is this something that you’re supposed to take care of?”

  Navran kept his voice level and firm and spoke slowly. “Let him go. He hasn’t harmed you.”

  “He’s a puppet,” Thudra said. He lifted the boy’s chin with the point of his knife. “See? He goes wherever I tell him. And you, meanwhile, can’t afford to let me hurt him, not unless you want to make an enemy of his uncle.”

  “He’s a child,” Navran said. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “And you are a filthy usurper. So don’t patronize me with your insistence on honor. The moment you or any of your soldiers step any closer to me, I cut his throat open and let you clean up the blood. Do you understand?”

  “What do you want?”

  Thudra straightened a little. “First, bring me my wife and daughters.” When Navran didn’t move, he shook Sundasha by the hair and said, “Now.”

  Navran nodded and gestured to Dastha. One of the palace guards ran into the palace. A few moments later three figures emerged from the palace, flanked by a pair of guards. Sarmadi, Thudra’s wife, ran to Thudra’s side with their two daughters. Thudra gestured with his head, and they took up position behind him and Sundasha.

  “Now hear me,” Thudra said. “I’m going to Ahunas, to the house of the majakhadir Yavada-kha. You will let me leave through this gate.” He pointed over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. “You can follow me as far as the village of Kushmathan, where my allies are waiting for me. And from there, you won’t attempt to follow or hinder me until I’ve reached Ahunas. Once I’m there, you’ll pay me my ransom. And then you’ll never see me again.”

  “If you hurt him—”

  “I won’t hurt him, so long as you do what I ask.” Thudra gave Navran a serpentine smile. “But even if I did… you took a kingdom away from me. Why shouldn’t I take one away from you?”

  Navran leaned over to Dastha. “How far away is Kushmathan?”

  “About two hours walk, if you hurry,” Dastha whispered.

  Navran looked across the expanse of stone at the terrified boy in Thudra’s grip and at the three women gathered behin
d him. “Let him go,” he said gravely. Then, to Dastha, “Follow him at a safe distance as far as Kushmathan.”

  “Yes, my lord and king,” Dastha said. His jaw was clenched, and a growl sounded in his throat.

  Navran waved his hand. Someone ran and opened the side door, and Thudra’s entourage crept out with their hostage. At the door Thudra stopped.

  “Eight days from now in Ahunas,” Thudra said. “Meet me there, and maybe Sadja’s nephew can live.” He pulled the boy against his chest and disappeared.

  Mandhi

  It wasn’t trivial to leave Sadja’s palace without being observed, but neither was it impossible. Fortunately, Mandhi had friends.

  On the arranged night, Mandhi waited until midnight. Aryaji was asleep in the next room, and with thanks to the stars, Jhumitu likewise slumbered in a sling around Mandhi’s shoulders. The hall outside her room was empty. Mandhi moved to the end of the hallway and waited half a breath.

  Quiet steps sounded on the stairs which descended to the ground floor of the palace. A face appeared, a woman of Mandhi’s age with her head covered by a scarf of blue cotton. She looked at Mandhi and asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Nagiri-kha,” Mandhi said. “You?”

  Nagiri looked suspiciously at the sling hanging from Mandhi’s shoulders. “You didn’t say you’d be bringing the boy.”

  “He comes with me. I didn’t need to say anything about it.”

  Nagiri pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. She sighed. “It’s probably fine. When are you planning on coming back?”

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  “And how do you plan on getting back in?”

  “I plan on walking through the front gate.”

  Nagiri raised an eyebrow. “Since you’re officially invited, I suppose it works. And that’s more or less how we’re going to get out.”

  “Really?” Mandhi peered at Nagiri in disbelief. “Why all this subterfuge if I can just walk out?”

  “You can’t just walk out,” Nagiri said. “But I can. The staff is used to seeing me come and go at all hours of the night.”