Heir of Iron

Chapter 28: Mandhi

The orange of the sunset and the orange of distant fires mingled in the window of Srithi's chamber, lightly the interior with ghastly, smoky forms. Srithi knelt on a cushion near the window, rocking baby Gapthi gently and rising to her knees every now and again to peer out at the chaos, then turn away muttering. Mandhi stood near her, arms folded under her breasts, looking out the window with a scowl.

The riot had not been intended.

The first news of the violence in the streets had startled her, but the news of Thudra's loyalists coming through the gate was a shock. She had intended for Ghauna to spread the news of Navran's past to the saghada, and for the priests to demand that he abdicate at the acclamation. But evidently the word had spread beyond just the saghada, and now the city burned for it. Veshta had barred the doors to the estate, and Mandhi had stayed since then in the upper chamber with Srithi, watching the city gradually blacken and bleed. Even if it came to the worst, there was hope, though. The tunnels through the Ruin still held.

"We'll get out one way or another," Mandhi whispered.

"You can't be sure," Srithi said. She stroked Gapthi's face and cooed. She seemed to be soothing herself as much as the child. "Ruyam could already be in the city. And what if the baby comes"

"I'm sure he could, but still---"

Panicked shouting filled the alley beneath their window. Mandhi backed away from the open space, wary of a stone or torch that might fly though. There was pounding at the door of the estate. Srithi winced and put her hands over her ears. "Mandhi! They've found us."

"Quiet. No one is looking for us." But one of the voices outside was Navran's, and Mandhi's pulse galloped.

They heard the heavy creak of the estate door opening, then closing again. The bar across it fell with a shudder. Srithi let out her breath and began twisting the end of her hair. "At least they got it closed. Why would they open it? Go see who it is."

"Sure." But as soon as Mandhi stepped out onto the balcony of the upper story, the visitors spilled into the inner courtyard lit with golden torchlight: Navran first, smeared with blood and ashes and dragging a sword limply in one hand, followed by Sadja and three soldiers from Sadja's militia. A shiver of outrage passed through her at seeing them, for the inner courtyard of Veshta's estate was holy, and the unclean polluted it by entering. But a step behind them came Veshta, shouting for Habdana and Kidri to bring water and food, and Mandhi swallowed her displeasure.

Navran sat on the lip of the pool at the center of the courtyard. The sword dropped from his hand. He looked around the courtyard with a dazed expression, the torchlight making the blood on his face seem black. He looked up at Mandhi. Their eyes met.

He knew.

She drew back from the railing and looked away, hoping to hide the tremor in her hands. His eyes were as cold as iron, his expression direct. He had pieced it together, and he had survived and reached her. She was undone.

She slipped back into Srithi's chamber and curled up on the cushion next to her friend. Srithi felt Mandhi's shaking and put her hand over Mandhi's, bending to kiss Mandhi's fingers. She probably thought that Mandhi was merely concerned for the ruined city.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"Navran and Sadja," Mandhi whispered. "And a few others. No one I knew."

"Navran and Sadja!" Srithi's voice rose into a squeal. "Then they're alive."

Mandhi's response was monotone. "Yes. They're alive." Would he kill her? Could she throw herself on his mercy?