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

moment and she was going to hurl it into Navran’s face. Instead, she grabbed Navran by the beard and pulled him down to meet her eyes. “You ran off. You made Taleg chase after you while I sat here like an idiot and waited. You abuse Veshta’s hospitality and our father’s graces. And you ask me what you did?”
    Navran shoved her away. She staggered back and caught herself on the lintel of the door. Taleg put his hand on Navran’s. Navran shook him off. His voice was knife-sharp and cold.
    “Neither of you touch me. Listen,
sister
Mandhi. You treat me like a slave. You bought me and forced me to call Cauratha my father. You lie to me. You do not tell me why I’m here. You let me leave during the day, but you drag me back every night. And when I slip away in Jaitha, you hunt me like a dog.”
    “Did you want us to leave you alone?” Mandhi said. “You were a star-damned
debt slave
when we found you. And you’re still a drunk and a gambler and pain to Cauratha. You owe us your freedom and your comfort. And what do we owe you?”
    “The truth.”
    The sounds of gossip and laughter leaking in from the dining room filled the silence.
    “What do you want to know?” Mandhi said at last.
    “Who you are. Who I am. What you want with me.”
    “You are Cauratha’s son. I am Cauratha’s daughter.”
    “And who is Cauratha? More than an old saghada living with a rich merchant. I can see that much.”
    Damn, but Navran was smarter than he looked. Mandhi glanced up at Taleg. He raised his eyebrow and said, “Maybe we should go to our chamber.”
    “If I tell you,” Mandhi said, “you will be bound to secrecy. The highest secrecy that you can imagine. Do you understand?”
    “I don’t say much,” Navran said.
    “But when you drink….”
    Navran grimaced and pretended to study something in the street. “I understand.”
    “Then let’s go to our chamber. Taleg, grab some dishes for you and Navran from Paidacha. There should be plenty left. Might as well not let the
whole
evening go to waste.”
    She plunged into the dining room and pushed past Paidacha into the narrow corridor beyond. At the rear of the house was their chamber. An embroidered curtain hung from the central rafter dividing the room into two halves, with a low bed adorned with thin silk sheets and silk-covered cushions on each side. As soon as Taleg and Navran appeared through the doorway, Mandhi glanced into the hallway to ensure that no one was listening, then yanked the curtain shut.
    Taleg sat by the door with his clay bowl of rice, roti, and shreds of the remaining duck. He gave a bowl to Navran, then Mandhi pointed to a spot next to the outside wall. Navran scowled at her for a moment, then bowed his head and began to eat. “Well?”
    “Are you ready?” Mandhi asked.
    He took three bites of rice before answering. “Tell me.”
    “Protect us, Ulaur.” She sat on the floor and took up the Moon posture. “This is the deepest secret you will ever learn. Are you ready?”
    Navran swallowed and nodded. “Tell me.”
    “Fine.” She leaned close to Navran and spoke softly. “You’re right. Cauratha is not just an elderly saghada. He is the Heir of Manjur, the chosen of Ulaur. When the Kingdom is restored he or his heir will be the rightful king of Virnas and all lands south of the Amsadhu.”
    Navran’s hand froze above his bowl. The roti fell from his hand.
    Mandhi went on. “This is why Veshta supports him, or rather, why the estate which Veshta inherited has housed the Heirs for generations. The crypt beneath the estate is a buried remnant of the temple of Ulaur, from the days of Manjur. Many of the Uluriya know that it’s there, but we keep it a secret. Veshta knows that Cauratha is the heir, as does Taleg. There are a few other saghada in the city who may know or suspect. But no one else does.”
    “And I am the next Heir,” Navran said.
    “Yes. If you don’t get yourself killed in a gambling feud or kidnapped by a slave