Sword of the Deceiver (31 page)

Amandad heard the sound and jumped, spinning around. He was grey as a ghost.

“My prince!” Amandad rushed up to make his obeisance directly at Samudra’s feet.

“What is it, Amandad?” he asked, his gaze darting around the room. Except for his man, the chamber was empty. “Have you seen Hamsa?”

“My prince …” Amandad began, then he choked as if suddenly realizing what question had been asked. “
Agnidh
Yamuna has taken
Agnidh
Hamsa to the emperor, with another woman, an outsider …”

Yamuna had Hamsa? And the other woman, that could only be this Radana, and they were being taken to the emperor. Hamsa had failed in her attempt to conceal the woman. Samudra brushed past Amandad.
I cannot leave Hamsa to this
.

“My prince, Queen Prishi is dead!”

Samudra froze in his tracks. Behind him he heard the man breathing hard and knew he was crying. But Samudra did not turn. He could not move. His will could no longer direct his limbs. He could only stand like a statue and hear Amandad’s words echo in his mind.

Queen Prishi is dead
.

“How …?” He forced the word out.
Mother is dead
. “When …?”

“My prince …” Amandad choked again, struggling to speak clearly. “She was found with her maid Damman. The first of all queens found her. She was poisoned, my prince. They … the … Princess Natharie has fled the small domain. She was the last to wait upon the queen. They are saying she did this thing.”

Heat rushed back through Samudra and he could move again. He grasped Amandad by his shoulders and hauled him upright. “That is not true! How dare you speak such a vile lie to me!”

“I swear, my prince, I know it is not true. All the world knows it is not true, but it is the word of the first of all queens.”

The consequences of these truths and lies began to unfurl in Samudra’s mind. His mother, his mother was dead, Natharie was gone. Word of rebellion in Sindhu would be out within moments. The gardens were surely being searched even now, and it would soon be discovered that there was no hunt, and that Makul, Samudra’s teacher and ally, had left the gardens with a woman in maid’s clothing.

Then they would be looking for him, and for Makul, and for Natharie.

They already had Hamsa.

He released Amandad and Amandad prostrated himself at once. Samudra looked down on him, trying to find room in his swollen heart to regret what had just happened. Amandad had done no wrong. If Samudra lived, he would make his apology.

If I live. If any of us live
.

“Where have they taken Hamsa?”

“Divakesh insists all be heard before the Pearl Throne.”

Divakesh as well. Mother A-Kuha, is this my punishment for denying you?

Samudra touched Amandad’s shoulder. “When they come to question you, speak the truth,” he said, which was all the protection he could offer the loyal man now. He darted back through the servants’ door. Half-blind in the dim light, he raced up the stairs, past the eighth ring, to the ninth.

He had never entered the throne room from the servants’ stairs. He did not even know for certain there was a door here. He made himself call to mind the map of the corridors he had walked as prince. The broad stair lay so that the halls circled the Throne’s chamber and led to rooms for prayer, for waiting, for the emperor to robe himself. They ran this way, and this. This place where he stood was the dingy mirror for those bright and beautiful halls. Oriented now, he ran down the right-hand way, and found a door set in the wall, cut with the lotus, Mother Jalaja’s sign, for it was she who had created the Pearl Throne.

He wanted to pray, but he did not know who would hear him. He felt the anger of the Mothers like a stone about his neck. The Mothers, who now held his own mother in their arms.

No. Don’t think on that. Not yet
.

As slowly, as gently as he could, Samudra opened the door the barest crack, profoundly grateful for its well-tended hinges. A thread of light fell across his skin. He pressed his eye to that opening and looked through.

He saw the Pearl Throne on its high dais of red-veined black marble. The pearls that gave it its name shone black, rose pink, and pure white in the glow of the few lamps the attendants had lit for this strange and hasty audience. Chandra sprawled, harshly undignified, on that sacred seat of emperors. Beside him stood the carved wooden screen. Bandhura was with him, then.

Chandra and the images of the Mothers behind him looked down on the huddle of figures at the base of the dais. Hamsa knelt there and Yamuna stood beside her. A second woman knelt beside the sorceress. She was clad in rose silks and Samudra thought she must be Radana. Beside her stood Divakesh, his great arms folded, and beside the priest prostrated in full obeisance huddled a third woman.

Who are you?
He frowned at that third figure in her blue and silver silks.

All at once, Hamsa stiffened. She turned her head, just a little. Samudra sucked in a breath. She felt him. Perhaps by the bond between them, perhaps by her sorceress’s instincts, but she knew that he was there.

No one else seemed to notice Hamsa’s tiny gesture. All attention was on Chandra, who rose from the throne. Casually, as if he were doing no more than walking down a grassy slope, he descended the dais until he stood before the prostrated stranger beside Divakesh. Gently, he reached down and raised her up.

“Tell me again,” said Chandra, smoothing her veil back. “Tell me what you say my brother did.”

He lowered his arm, and Samudra’s heart stopped. The woman was Ekkadi, Natharie’s maid.

“I was not able to hear every word.” Her voice shook badly, as well it might. Chandra stood so close, he could have kissed her with very little trouble, and struck her with even less. “But the prince spoke to her very urgently. He was most insistent in what he said. She was, I think, afraid a little, but …” Chandra touched Ekkadi’s cheek, running one finger down her temple, a gentle caress. She faltered, looking back and up at Divakesh.

“Do not fear, Ekkadi,” said the priest. “Tell your emperor all that you know.”

“Yes,” said Chandra, lightly, easily. “Tell me.”

“We were summoned to Queen Prishi’s chamber. She wanted to hear one of Princess Natharie’s stories. She … she asked for a drink and Natharie prepared it and brought it to her. She, the queen, drank and, and …”

“Go on, Ekkadi. The Mothers are with you,” boomed Divakesh.

“I thought she had just gone to sleep, I swear, Majesty, I swear it!” Ekkadi cried desperately. “Then, Natharie made me change clothes with her. I didn’t know.” She fell to her knees, weeping and put her hands between the emperor’s feet. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

But Chandra paid no more attention to her. He was looking at Divakesh. “Do you trust this girl, my lord?” he inquired.

“She is a true daughter of the Mothers.”

“I see.” Lightly, Chandra kicked Ekkadi’s hands aside and stepped over to Yamuna. “And what is this you have brought me, sorcerer?”

“It is Radana of Sindhu,” Yamuna answered.

The woman lifted her hands, pleading. “Please, Great Emperor, I am come …”

But Chandra had already walked on. Now he stood in front of Hamsa. “And this, of course, is
Agnidh
Hamsa. Where is your master, Hamsa?”

“I do not know, Sovereign,” answered Hamsa evenly. Her words raised all the hairs on the back of Samudra’s neck, for she lied. She did know, and he felt her reaching toward him even while she strained to hold herself apart.

“And was it your hand that gave him the poison for our mother?” Chandra inquired.

Hamsa raised her eyes toward the emperor, a thing that was never done. “Prince Samudra did not poison the queen.”

“No?” Chandra arched his brows, his voice full of mock surprise. “Then who did?”

“I do not know, Sovereign.”

Chandra cocked an eye toward Yamuna. “Is this true?”

“I cannot yet tell, Sovereign,” Yamuna answered. “I have had no time to work.”

“Yes, these things do take time.” Chandra sighed, his demeanor full of patience and understanding. Samudra ground his teeth together. “Now, you, from Sindhu, you say there is rebellion there?”

Plainly relieved, Radana spoke with a hasty eagerness. “Yes, Great Emperor. The king has brought the Huni down from the Iron Pillar mountains to aid him in his rebellion. I came as quickly as I was able to warn …”

“Yes, yes.” Chandra waved her words away as if deeply bored by her recitation. “We have heard this much already. Have you nothing to add?”

Radana buried her face in her hands, her weeping muffled but still perfectly audible. “I have tried to serve, I swear it, Great Emperor. I …”

“If one more woman sheds a tear before me, I will have her eyes burned from her head,” said Chandra. Radana fell instantly silent. Chandra rubbed his face hard and glanced backward at the screen. What was Bandhura thinking back there? What was her part in this madness?

And all at once, Samudra was sure whose hand had killed his mother. It was just what Bandhura would do. She had feared Samudra’s popularity with the soldiers and his influence on Chandra, and now … now Samudra was implicated in murder and rebellion. Behind her screen, Bandhura surely smiled.

“Now, we must consider how to reward those who have brought us these tidings,” Chandra went on. He looked at each of the women before him. Every fiber of Samudra’s body was as tight as a harp string, waiting for Chandra to speak. This was his brother at his very worst, when he wore this quiet, reasoned mask. There was nothing less than bloody murder in Chandra’s mind, the only question was where the sword would fall.

“This one.” Chandra moved to stand in front of Radana. “Since the princess cannot be found, this one will die in her place.” He turned away, walking back to the dais, signaling the guards with a flick of his hand.

The woman dove forward, flinging herself full length at the emperor’s feet, clutching at his heels. “Wait! Great Emperor! I came only to serve! I came to warn …”

Chandra rounded on her, his face distorted with fury. “You betrayed your king!” he roared. “Your lord whom the gods set over you! Why would I accept such service when I have treason enough in my house? Take her out of here!”

Radana screamed and leapt to her feet, to do what, Samudra could not guess. The guards seized her at once, and though she screamed and struggled, they hauled her between them out the great doors.

Chandra watched this little drama with his eyes half-closed and his face impassive.

“Now you, Hamsa,” said Chandra, his voice once more casual and quiet. “I think we should give you to Yamuna’s tender care so we may determine what you do and do not know of these things. Will you take this charge, my sorcerer?”

The sorcerer bowed over folded hands. “I stand ready to serve my emperor.”

“Good.” Chandra smiled. “When you are finished, I would have her punished for her part in my brother’s treason.” He glanced toward Divakesh. “That would be your duty, I believe, priest, would it not?”

“In betraying the Pearl Throne she betrayed the Mothers. It is for the sword of the Mothers to take her life.”

Hamsa said nothing. Then, slowly, leaning like an old woman on her white staff, she stood and made the salute of trust, not to Chandra, but to the Mothers who watched all from behind the Throne. Then, one faltering step at a time, she began to cross the floor to the great double doors. The guards hesitated, uncertain what to do, and then she paused and turned to look over her shoulder.

“Well,
Agnidh
? Are you coming?”

It was a ludicrous, impossibly defiant gesture, and Samudra knew she would pay for it. Helpless, he watched Yamuna walk to Hamsa’s side and bow, gesturing for her to lead the way, and Hamsa did. Samudra bit his tongue until the blood came to stop himself from crying out loud.

“And what for little Ekkadi?” said Chandra, looking down at the maid who still knelt beside the high priest. Chandra squatted down until his face was almost level with hers. “What for this maiden who says she has seen so much of my brother’s treason?”

Divakesh rested one hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I have sworn she will suffer no harm for what she has done in the Mothers’ names.”

“In the Mothers’ names?” Chandra straightened up. “Tell me, Divakesh, did you order her to keep watch on Prince Samudra?”

If the priest had understood anything beyond his own heart he would have lied, but instead, he spoke the plain truth. “When she could, yes.”

You ordered her to spy on Natharie. One of the few Natharie trusted, you turned against her
. “So it is because of you that all this was witnessed.” Chandra’s stance had changed. He was no longer loose-limbed; he stood instead like the wrestler he was, balanced, ready to lash out at any instant.

Divakesh inclined his head once. “Yes.”

Priest, you are going to wish I got to you before you had a chance to tell your emperor this
, thought Samudra with a grim satisfaction that left him feeling soiled.

“I see. Well.” Chandra sighed, a short, sharp sound. “Since you were obeying your masters, Ekkadi, I suppose there is nothing to reproach you for. You may return to the small domain.”

Ekkadi hesitated for a heartbeat, probably stunned by her good fortune. She made obeisance and then, hiking her skirts up around her ankles, she fled the throne room. But no one watched her undignified, undisciplined departure. Chandra looked to Divakesh, and Samudra saw how his brother’s eyes gleamed with tears he would never shed. “You made this, priest.”

Only in part, Chandra. He had help from you and me
. But even as he thought that, he knew it didn’t matter. Divakesh had brought the evil news. To Chandra, that would make him responsible for it, and if Divakesh did not see his sovereign’s fury, Samudra did. It was as palpable as fire against his skin. The question now was which would prove greater, Chandra’s fear of the Mothers, or his anger at their priest?

“It is the will of the Mothers, my emperor,” Divakesh was saying. “The dance must be held sacred. We have spoken of this many times,” he added pointedly.