Heir's Revenge (Return of the Aghyrians Book 4)

by Patty Jansen

  His eyes fixed hers. “I realise that. We can help.”

  “Is this why you’ve come to Miran?” On dangerous ground now.

  “This is your idea. We just . . . make it happen.”

  He showed her how to search for the people she needed. The hub was so much more modern than the simple thing she used for the theatre’s finances.

  The Velisar family proved a lot harder to track down than she thought. They had left Miran so long ago that it was no longer clear who was the family’s legal heir. She spoke to a man in Kesilu who seemed to have little interest in the situation as she explained it. He told her he’d ask around and get back in contact with her.

  That didn’t look hopeful.

  The Calthunar family lived in Bendara. Ellisandra spoke to a woman who seemed a lot more interested than Velisar.

  Then came Ilendar, the first important family, also the first time ever Ellisandra spoke to someone off-world. Vayra helped her make the connection and after a lot of strange beeping and clicking noises, a gruff man replied in a language she didn’t recognise.

  Vayra nodded at her, whispering, “That’s him.”

  “This is Ellisandra Takumar of Miran. I need to draw your awareness to proposed changes to the Mirani Foundation Law. The council under the leadership of Nemedor Satarin wants to abolish those sections of Foundation Law that give Foundation families the power to dismiss the council, giving the current High Council effective absolute rule. We, the younger generation in Miran, want to stop this. I’m contacting all Foundation families to see if you can provide some assistance.”

  There was a silence in which Ellisandra was afraid that the connection had been broken.

  Then the same male voice said, “What form would that assistance take?”

  “I’m aware that you have already made your Mirani account available, and I thank you very much for that. There are a lot of people in Miran who have well-paid jobs because of this money. However, this issue will be decided by a vote in the council. Foundation members have a vote. Do you still have the right to veto council decisions?”

  “Not that I know. We used to, with the Foundation stones, but we have lost ours a long time ago. Andrahar was the only family who kept theirs, but as far as I know, it was destroyed in the fire and has never been found. Those stones are a relic of the past and I wouldn’t hold much faith in the council’s commitment to this part of Foundation Law. They’ll do as they please unless they meet serious opposition.”

  “I may be a woman, but I have many people behind me. I am serious opposition.”

  “I never meant to suggest that you didn’t, lady.”

  Oh yes, he did. She’d been warned that Traders could be pompous. She should not let him rile her. She needed him too much.

  “What is it that you would like us to do?”

  “I would be happy if you could send a representative to the council session. Even if we no longer have the right to veto, our presence would give them pause.”

  “Let me know the details, then I will see if we could spare someone.”

  Not someone, we need you.

  She gave him the times of the council session, and didn’t hold out much hope that he would be there.

  When the conversation clicked off, she let her shoulders slump. “I was silly to think that these people are still interested in what happens in Miran.”

  “You’ve got one family left.”

  Andrahar. “I’m almost too scared to speak to any of them. The Mirani council treated them badly. I don’t know which is the truth, but they’re doing fine without Miran. Why would they support us?”

  “Because they are Mirani?” His eerie light brown eyes met hers in an intense expression. “The Andrahar family would like to re-establish part of their business in Miran. They will be there.”

  “We’d like the heir to come.”

  “He will be there.”

  Ellisandra would have stayed with Jintho and his group, but she needed to go home to give Father his dinner and get him ready for bed.

  Vayra offered to walk her home. Jintho protested and said that he should do it, but Vayra subtly shifted aside his cloak, showing the glint of a gun which he wore, Coldi-style, on a bracket on his upper-arm.

  Oh. Jintho and his friends nodded. Yes, they understood. And it was chilling that it had come to this, that a respected Mirani citizen needed to walk through the streets with an armed companion.

  They left the building through the proper entrance of the Andrahar office, the one next to merchant Ranuddin’s closed shop. Normally, there would be a vagrant sleeping on the steps, but there hadn’t been anyone for days, and while no one appeared to have missed the scruffy men, Ellisandra realised where they would have gone: Vayra had given them a job on the building site, as guards or workers.

  A soft drizzle of snowflakes drifted from the sky, appearing out of the darkness in little bubbles of glow around the street lights. Vayra took her arm and led her across the square. The streets were quiet and the last people were leaving the markets. A couple of guards stood idle on a street corner. They glanced at her and Vayra, but didn’t move.

  “They’d have one of their fellows following us,” Vayra said.

  Ellisandra looked over her shoulder, but saw no one. “Are you sure?”

  “Either that or they’ve got enough guards to cover every corner.”

  “I don’t think they would—”

  “They’ve been doing this for years. It’s not new. It’s a system they used in Barresh, too. They call this Mirani surveillance in security circles. On every corner, there is either a guard, a street seller or another civilian in the pay of the military, or a camera. They will know what happens on every street.”

  “They’re afraid.”

  “Possibly.”

  When they entered their street, a dark figure came down the hill. He was nothing more than a black form with light reflecting in the helmet’s visor.

  “All quiet?” Vayra asked.

  “As quiet as it’s going t’ get,” the man said inside the helmet. The Nikala accent sounded very much out of place with the modern gear.

  Ellisandra noticed another man with a similar helmet at the corner of the alley that ran on the lower side of her house.

  She laughed nervously. “Are you trying to take over this part of the city?”

  Vayra’s light brown eyes met hers with an intensity that made her shiver. “I’m protecting my house, and anyone who wants to be protected. I know that those fellows who stole building materials weren’t after the stuff they stole. If I do nothing, they will be back. They might even try to light another fire. As we know, the house burns quite well and I haven’t been able to change much of the design. I’m not about to waste my money and time, and all the work that the builders have put in. These are all Mirani guards. I haven’t brought in many people from outside. I’ve just given them better equipment to work with.”

  “But . . . they’ve all got weapons.”

  They stopped walking in front of the gate to her house. The glow from the street lantern side-lit his face, making him look older and tired.

  “They’ve got nothing that can’t be bought locally. I had a local company make these helmets for me. They’re very basic, but allow the men to carry communication equipment inside.”

  “Is it really necessary to put them in the street?”

  “You’re the last Foundation family left in Miran and you ask me that question?” His breath steamed in the space between them. “You are the only family that can do serious damage to the council. Of course you need protection. I’ve included your house in the guards’ protection zone. Nemedor Satarin probably suspects that you’re planning to run for council against him.”

  She burst out, “How do you know these things?”

  “Well, you are, aren’t you?”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “People talk.”

  “I’ve only spoken about it with a few pe
ople. I haven’t made a decision.”

  “The decision is written on your face.”

  “With this?” she pointed at the bandage he had just put on.

  “Ha, ha, ha.”

  “Stop making fun of me. How do you know these things about me? Are you spying on me?”

  He retreated a step, his expression disturbed. “I’m not a spy. I don’t know any more about you than I am able to guess, quite accurately, as it turns out. I apologise for that. I’ve been honest in my interactions. I’m sorry if I’ve offended, because it was not my intention.”

  “Then why are you always looking at me?”

  He let a small silence lapse. “Does that disturb you?”

  “Yes!”

  His expression softened. “You . . . interest me, as a person. I find you strong, with solid opinions and willing to fight for them. And you’re beautiful. It’s probably not appropriate that I look at you a lot. I’m sorry.”

  What?

  She looked up into his eyes, and couldn’t see any suggestion that his words were anything but the absolute truth.

  There were a hundred replies that went through her mind, most of them full of snark.

  Isn’t it normally the girls that do the flirting?

  You barge in here thinking to pick off one of the most eligible women in Miran?

  Who even says that I’m interested in getting involved with another man?

  But his expression was much too sincere for all of those things. After having worked on the play and having seen the relationship between Jintho and Sariandra, she knew that love was not a trivial thing to be joked about, never mind that Mirani Endri marriages were seldom, if ever, about love.

  Not that she had ever expected a declaration of love from anyone, least of all a foreigner.

  And you know what? It touched her deep inside.

  She was used to having to fight and snipe or tread carefully around people.

  She didn’t think anyone had loved her for a long time.

  Mother died a long time ago, Father was too far gone to express love, her brothers said they loved her, but acted like they didn’t care. The one friend she thought cared, Tolaki, turned out not to care. Sariandra had become a friend, but her affection was reserved for Jintho, and the theatre people just expected her to be a professional.

  Vayra continued to meet her gaze unwaveringly.

  She said, in a low voice, “Thank you.” Her eyes pricked. It was as if her insides had all turned to mush, as if her thoughts were tangled in an impenetrable knot.

  Damn it, she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, was she?

  “I’m sorry if it upsets you.” He reached out, but let his hand hover above her arm without touching her.

  She turned her hand palm up. He gently lowered his hand on top. His skin felt warm and dry. She squeezed his hand gently and he squeezed back.

  “I’m so scared.” Her voice cracked. “Tomorrow is the beginning of what could be the last free days of our lives.” She could end up like the poor woman who had written the play, living in fear and being forced to write about all the things she had supposedly done wrong. They might even put her in jail.

  “Or it could be the beginning of the rest of our lives, remember that. You must have hope that whatever you do will make the world better.”

  “I don’t know who you are or why you care so much, but thanks.”

  He raised his hand to her cheek, but stopped short of touching it. “You’ll be fine. I’ll help.”

  They stood like that for a moment that seemed to last an eternity.

  For a while she thought he was going to kiss her, and she thought that she probably wouldn’t mind if he did, but the tenseness passed, and he let his hand sink.

  “I care so much because I want to see my parents get married at the Foundation monument. I want them to have the big springtime wedding they’ve been denied for so long. I care so much because of all the stories I’ve heard of Miran for most of my life, and I want the city to be like that once again.”

  “You care because of the Mirani blood in your veins.”

  He nodded, once.

  When all this was over, she’d ask him which Mirani family was in his ancestry.

  She went through the gate into her yard, still feeling the warm spot of his touch on her skin.

  The same time tomorrow, the play would be over and she would be either in jail or a hero.

  She was Mariandra. This time, it was up to her to make sure that the foreigners made it out alive.

  24

  ELLISANDRA STOOD between the curtains of the backstage area.

  In the next section stood the three men who played the beggars, dressed up in rags, with their faces dirty. They were the first actors to go onto the stage. Behind them stood the members of the theatre “crowd”. All of them were silent, staring into nothingness while going over their lines one last time.

  Liran and his group of fake Coldi negotiators waited a bit further. They wore their leather costumes, and every bit of their ample exposed skin—they were barbarians after all—had been rubbed in brown oil. Behind them waited the members of the orchestra with their instruments.

  Ellisandra met Vayra’s eyes. She heard that he had called a special meeting of the orchestra that morning where apparently details had been discussed about a slight change in the musical program to accommodate his father.

  Vayra’s father, however, was not yet here, but that didn’t seem to bother anyone.

  Stop worrying.

  She was scrunching up the fabric of her dress. Sariandra was checking all the orchestra uniforms. She wore her own glorious grey dress that came with a shimmering overdress embroidered with little beads. She looked very pregnant. She kept looking over her shoulder, as if afraid that her father would turn up in here. He wouldn’t, because Vayra’s guards stood at all the doors that connected the backstage area to the rest of the building or outside.

  Her father would be in the audience that was the source of many buzzing voices on the other side of the main curtain. The door attendants had confirmed that the hall was full and they’d had to start turning people away.

  Ellisandra felt sick. The hall hadn’t been full for any of the plays she had arranged. Last year, there had been a lot of empty seats at the back, even though the council normally filled empty seats with school classes, but that wasn’t necessary today.

  She peeked through a gap between the curtains.

  All the important councillors sat in the prime seats in the lower middle part. She could see Asitho Bisumar with his wife. Next to him sat Nemedor Satarin and his wife, a grey-haired Nikala woman with her curly hair in a bun. She might have been pretty had it not been for the scowl permanently etched on her face. Then again, being married to such a manipulative man would make her scowl, too. His two daughters were with them, seated on the other side of their mother. Both were a number of years older than Ellisandra, and both were married. Neither of them looked as if they wanted to be there.

  Next to them sat one of the other two High Councillors, who dealt with the internal city affairs and commerce. The fourth High Councillor sat on the far side of Asitho Bisumar.

  Behind the High Councillors and their families sat the other councillors. She spotted Jaeron’s father, and Jaeron next to him. Jaeron’s mother was there, too, a woman with a face that was round for an Endri. They certainly wouldn’t be here out of support to Ellisandra’s theatre work.

  “Oh, there she is,” someone said behind her. She turned her head.

  Aleyo had come up from behind. She wore her beautiful dress, with her hair in a bun and held by a jewelled net. Tolaki was with her, her appearance demure.

  What was this?

  “Tolaki?”

  Tolaki held her hand over her mouth and stared at Ellisandra’s face. Thanks to Vayra’s bandage, the wound was not as sore, but if anything the bruising was worse. She had removed the bandage this morning, and the make-up women had put some extra colour on he
r cheek.

  “I’m so sorry about what’s happened to you.” Tolaki’s voice sounded unsteady. “I’ve come to apologise. I like you. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t really mean it. I don’t agree with what was done to you. The past few days have been really bad for me. I missed you all so much.”

  “It’s all right,” Ellisandra said.

  “No, you’re too forgiving. It isn’t all right. I see that now. I understand what you’re fighting for. I want you to succeed. I was just jealous that it couldn’t be me, that I didn’t have the courage to do what you are doing. Here. You should have this.”

  She gave Ellisandra a piece of paper. It was an official document. At the top, it said, Declaration of Candidature.

  The election.

  “Stand for election. I want you to succeed.”

  “Thank you.” She wondered what had brought Tolaki’s sudden change of heart. “We should all stay together and stand up for each other, especially the women.”

  Tolaki nodded. “I’m sorry. I thought you were selfish, but I can see that I was selfish.”

  She hugged Tolaki. “It really doesn’t matter. You were shocked by what I was doing. I asked a lot of you.”

  Vayra looked over the heads of the orchestra, most of whom were Nikala women much shorter than he was. There were more people than there had been at any rehearsal. His father was still nowhere to be seen, but Gisandra was there with her drums and bells, and so were a group of other women who had left the theatre to have families.

  The clock jumped. Starting soon. Liran was checking the bags of red dye he had taped under his shirt. Then he checked the bags of the other players. One leaked a little bit and he asked for some tape to fix the hole.

  Then the clock jumped again.

  Aleyo hefted the baton. The curtains started moving apart. The audience fell quiet and the orchestra walked onto the stage. In the expectant silence, they took up their positions in the orchestra pit. Aleyo asked for attention and they started playing.

  The first act went off without a hitch. Tameyo stuffed up one of her lines in the second act, but Vayra’s flute solo in the Lover’s Dance was beautiful. As they had decided, he stood on his chair for it so that everyone could see him. People in the audience were whispering to each other and frowning at him.