Heir of Iron (The Powers of Amur Book 1) by J.S. Bangs

Author:J.S. Bangs [Bangs, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-27T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

The majakhadir and khadir lingered into the evening, gossiping and shaking heads in little clusters like swarms of gnats. The colonnade of the Green Hall looked over the silhouettes of orange trees swaying against the indigo horizon in the breeze. The interior of the hall was bright with lamps, casting a warm glow over the long tables laden with a feast fit for—well, fit for the Emperor: oranges over ice, mangoes and limes, roast lamb and fried fish, heaps of steaming rice and roti.

Ruyam reclined on a bed of purple silk cushions at the foot of the dais and made Navran rest next to him. It was profoundly uncomfortable. Glances shot like arrows towards Ruyam from throughout the room, though those glances at least showed fear and respect. But him? The nobles looked at him with confusion and pity. He would prefer that no one looked at him at all.

“Did you appreciate my performance?” Ruyam said, leaning towards Navran across a tray of roasted lamb and figs. He smiled and reached for a modest sliver of lamb, placing it onto his own tray and licking his fingers.

“They seemed impressed,” Navran said. He still didn’t understand why Ruyam had brought him, nor why Ruyam sought his opinion.

“Impressed?” Ruyam scoffed. “They’ll be plotting against me within a day. They probably are already. As the Emperor’s Hand I was aware of a dozen petty intrigues among the ministers and courtiers, and there must have been just as many whose existence escaped my notice. I was more than once approached with offers from other nobles. I have only made my work harder, now. They’ll stay away from me as long as they think of me as the Emperor.”

“You said you weren’t the Emperor.”

“A matter of terminology. A thikratta cannot be the Emperor. But I hold the Ushpanditya and the Dhigvaditya, and the Red Men obey me. I don’t care what they call me. Vapathi, bring another drink for Navran.”

Vapathi rose from the place where she and Kirshta knelt behind Ruyam. She filled a cup with the flagons of hot spiced rice beer and put it in Navran’s hand with a short bow. Navran took it with a wobble in his hand. It was his third cup.

It would be so, so easy to drink this cup, and the next one, and the one after that. Bliss and oblivion. But he feared that if he did, he would wake up in the dungeon again. Or let loose with Cauratha’s name.

“Does the drink suit you?”

“It’s fine.” It was a heck of a lot better than the stuff he had drunk for most of his life.

“You may get it whenever you need from the kitchens. Or you may ask Vapathi to bring it for you. I am giving you a chamber of your own on the floor beneath mine. Vapathi will be your attendant.”

Navran nodded. He almost said thank you, but stopped for the absurdity of it.

“Now pay attention. The dance is starting.”

A chain of bells jingled at the north end of the hall.

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