by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 14 —

In which Jaya contrives to reunite Ana with her missing father and the Rani finds out more than she should. 

oOo

Ravi wandered through the Bazaar with seemingly aimless strides. He had a gaily decorated bag of roasted nuts in the crook of one arm and munched handfuls at his leisure. He examined each colorful stall, tent, and wagon with interest, stopped at one or two and asked prices, haggled at one and purchased a blue crystal on a beaded chain.

At the third booth from the end of the main thoroughfare he paused again and examined a painted bowl of great grace and beauty. He flagged down one of two girls behind the kiosk’s improvised counter.

“How much is this bowl?” he asked.

“This is a very special bowl,” said the girl. “It’s for sale only to a very special person.” She smiled up at him through eyes that glistened like pebbles at the bottom of a stream.

“I’m a very special person,” said Ravi. “I have the Sight—the Jadu.” He tapped his temple.

She laughed. “Do you now? Show me.”

“I will tell you the story of this very special bowl. This bowl,” he continued, running his hands over the satiny finish and closing his eyes, “is from another world. From a place where the wind paints the land with its own dust. A place where the sky is a frigid blue bowl and clouds are red splashes of dust. This bowl is from Avasa. From Onan. Am I right?” He opened his eyes to see her laughing at him.

“So poetic! You’re right. You are very special, indeed. The bowl is yours for twenty dagam.”

“I’ll take it. Have you any more?”

She gestured with her head at the wagon that formed the rear wall of the booth. “In the back.”

“May I see them?”

“Surely.” She picked up the bowl and signaled for Ravi to come around the end of the counter. She led him up a short flight of wooden steps and into the wagon.

Ravi surveyed the small room quickly as the door closed behind him. Three men sat at a table surmounted by an ancient wickless lamp. Two of them rose and faced him.

He bowed his head respectfully. “Pritam-sama,” he said to the one man he recognized. “I am Ravidas, your servant. The Nathu Rai Sarojin sends his respectful greetings.”

“You can dispense with the formality among us,” said Pritam, clasping Ravi’s hand. He gestured at the young man beside him. “This is Bala. And that-“ He thumbed toward the table. “-is his father. Come, sit and give us your message.”

Ravi took a seat across the table from Bala’s father, who sat huddled in the shadows, sipping hot tea. He caught the sweet, winy fragrance of kesara. Behind him, the girl moved softly, making the wooden floor creak. She set a mug of the tea in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said. He inhaled the perfume and took a sip. “I am sent to ask about Rokh Nadim. Can you tell me where he is?”

Pritam shook his head. “No, but I can tell you he is well.”

“Then you know where he is. You can get a message to him quickly?”

“Yes.”

Ravi sighed. “Ana-sa has been beyond anxiety. I’m happy to be able to tell her her father is safe.”

“Can you give him a similar assurance? He knows of the attack on the Nathu Rai Sarojin. He is also anxious.”

“I must be frank with you, Pritam-sama. We are all anxious. There are few people as bold as Sri Ana. The mahesa fears she is a danger to herself.”

The man across from him was laughing—quietly, at first, then with less inhibition. He set his cup down on the table with a thump and guffawed. Pritam and Bala also seemed amused.

“What have I said?” asked Ravi.

“Sri Ana!” rumbled the old man’s hoary voice. “That a Nadim should be ascribed sainthood by a Mehtaran! How rich an irony! You’re a good man, Ravi.” He brought his mirth under control. “Tell us more about your bold saint. Is she well?”

“She is very well, sama, and in the bosom of our family. She wishes to know that the family of Hadas Gupta has been notified of his safety.”

Pritam nodded. “Tell Ana they were informed. They are grateful and send their thanks. But, Ravi, they are a mere handful. Reports are now coming in from all the settlements. Twenty-six families have reported members missing on Mehtar—wives, husbands, children. Forty-one people in all.”

Ravi nodded, empathetic pain twisting his gut. He had never been separated from his own family. “I don’t need to guess what happened to them. The same thing that happened to Hadas Gupta.”

“Except that we know where Hadas is and that he is safe. We know nothing of the others. Not even how to find them.”

“I promise you,” said Ravi, “my mahesa will try. He’s already gone to the Sarngin about it and may have an ally in that quarter. Could you get him a list of names?”

Pritam nodded. “If you think it would help, you shall have a list. We should be able to receive it during our next trans-chat home. That will be tonight.”

The young man, Bala, made an impatient gesture. “You spoke of danger to Anala. Can your mahesa guarantee her safety?”

Ravi frowned into his tea and shook his head. “The people who were sent to frighten the Nathu Rai Sarojin quickly discovered that the way to the Sarojin is through his Avasan ‘cousin.’ I’m afraid that his attachment to Ana will be used as a weapon against him. I’m afraid that, through him, she has also become a target.”

Bala’s father stirred. “His attachment? You imply that your mahesa is fond of Anala?”

“Yes, sama.”

“Do you believe she returns his affection?”

“I used a poor word, sama. One doesn’t risk one’s life for mere attachment. Have you a message for her from her father?”

The older man leaned into the light from the table lamp, the hair Ravi had thought gray and white becoming a curling carpet of garnet streaked with gold. His eyes shone like the noonday sky from a face the color of sun-washed sand.

“Tell Ana,” he said, “that her father is alive and well and in Kasi, and that he will not leave without her.”

Ravi rose and gave the respectful greeting. “May I tell her that I saw you, Nadim-sama?”

The older man chuckled, the sound rolling and rumbling deep in the broad chest. “You may. And take her my love.”

“And mine,” said Bala.

Ravi bowed and left, the potter-girl going before him. At the bottom of the steps, she handed him the bowl, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Don’t forget your special bowl,” she said.

He grinned. “Ah, that would look suspicious, wouldn’t it?”

She nodded, smiling. “We must not have suspicion.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

He blushed.

She laughed at him, not unkindly. “You are special.”

“What...what is your name? In case I should need to find you again.”

“My name is Lila...and I’m easy to find. Look for the laughing Sun.” She tipped her head toward the wagon, smiled at him, and went back to peddle her wares.

Ravi stared at the place she’d been, his eyes finally finding focus on the jovial, painted face of Mitras that decorated the wagon’s curved door.

Lila, he thought. The laughter of the Divine. He glanced up at the real sun, playing hiding games with the clouds, then gazed past it to Something beyond.

“Smile on us, Tara-ji,” he murmured. “Smile on us all.”

oOo

“Father is in Kasi?” Ana started from her chair by the fire.

“Yes, Ana-sa. He and Bala send their love.”

“Bala, too? Where are they, Ravi? Take me to them!”

Jaya put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her chair. “Right now we’re the only four people outside of his retinue who know your father is here. Do you want to take a chance on someone else finding out?”

“But there must be some way-“

Jivinta Mina leaned across from her own chair and laid a hand on Anala’s arm. “Jaya is right, Ana. Your father’s life is already in danger, and that danger increases every time one of us visits his hiding place.”

His eyes on Ana’s face, Ravi said: “I’m supposed to return to get a list of the missing Avasans. I could at least ask if it might be arranged for her to see him.”

Jivinta raised her eyebrows. “In Lila’s wagon? And what would someone like Anala want with an amorous young vendress?”

Ravi blushed slightly. “Lila also reads the stars and stones. I saw that painted on the side of her wagon.”

“Ah!” Jivinta nodded approval. “Now that’s something. Who’d notice an eccentric old woman going to have her fortune read? When will you return to Bazaar, Ravi?”

Ravi smiled. “Tomorrow morning. They were to trans-chat the list of names tonight.”

The old Rani peered at him through bright and narrowed eyes, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “So eager, Ravi? Am I to think you have developed a belief in the telling of fortunes? Or is it the pottery that makes you smile?”

Ravi blushed again and excused himself, claiming unspecified household duties to attend to.

Jivinta Mina announced that it was time to dress for dinner and moved with a sprightly gait to the door. She paused there and turned back.

“Hadas is in the Game Room,” she said. “You might want to hurry him or he’ll miss an enjoyable meal. The Rani will be dining with Prakash tonight, so we can have as much fun as we please.” 

She grinned saucily and exited, cane tapping lightly on the tiles of the hall.

Jaya grinned wryly and studied the pattern of the carpet. “I have to admit, I’m a little jealous of Hadas.”

“Jealous?”

He shrugged. “He seems to have replaced me as her favorite grandson.”

“That’s ridiculous. No one could replace you in Jivinta Mina’s heart, Jaya. Besides, Hadas is temporary. When all this is over, he’ll go home to his family on Avasa. You’ll always be here.”

He glanced at her. “And you? Where will you be when this is over?”

She stared at him, eyes prying at his. After a moment at that futile task, she looked away.

“With my family, I hope.”

“You could stay here, with us. It feels as if you’ve always been here.”

“But I haven’t always been here. I’ve always been on Avasa.” She folded her hands together and pushed them between her knees. “I feel...comfortable here, in this house with Jivinta and Ravi and his family...and you—but your people, your city, your world—they’re all so strange to me. I have no purpose here. It’s not home.”

“Is home a place, then? I always thought it was...something else.”

“It is something else. I just-“ She shrugged, her eyes darting away from his. “I don’t have words for it.”

“I’m not sure I do either.” He smoothed the front of his tunic, which didn’t need smoothing. “Ana, do you really want to study for Orders?”

She glanced up at him. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“With the Deva Radha?”

She smiled and he could see her eagerness. “That would be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“Which would give your life here a purpose.”

“Yes.”

“You take your commitment to the Path seriously.”

“Of course, I do.” She made an impatient gesture. “Speak plainly, mahesa. I’m sick of skirting the issue. You ask how serious I am. What you want to know is if I would be willing to spend some moments in your bed. Long enough, say, for you to satisfy yourself before I embark on my devotions.”

She shocked him into a half-considered reply. “No! Not moments. I don’t want mere moments. I want you to stay.”

“Then command me to stay and have done with it.” There was challenge in her voice, in her eyes.

“I don’t want that.”

“Of course not. You want me to enslave myself willingly.”

“I don’t want you to enslave yourself at all.”

“Nathu Rai, I know you don’t understand this, but my freedom is in my bhakti. Ram-ji is my Lord, not you, not your passions, not mine. I would be a fool to burn up my freedom and the passion of my soul in a physical fire.” Her eyes strayed to the door. “I believe in another Fire. A Fire that warms instead of burning; a passion that purifies, like the Fire and passion of bhakti. No, not like bhakti—it is bhakti, but devotion to a human beloved. I would gladly give my soul into that Fire, not for annihilation, but for union. I want to know a union with my human beloved that is a reflection of my union with the Divine. You don’t believe in a Divine.”

He didn’t argue his belief or lack of it. He was suddenly sick of arguing. “Do you believe this is only a physical fire?”

“I don’t know. But if it is, it will die out and leave ashes.”

He took a step closer to her chair, raised a hand to her hair, and stroked it. “I don’t think it will die out.”

Her eyes glinted. “So you want me to stay until you’re sure? You want me to give my body to you until you’re certain you love the soul that goes with it?” She shook her head, her mouth twisted wryly. “You asked me once if your honor was just a spiritual abstract. What about mine? Should I just put it aside while you come to some decision? Should I become something other than what I am?”

Guilt gnawed sharply at his stomach. “No. No, you’re right. I can’t ask that of you...or demand it. But I have to be honest and admit that I want to demand it...Laldasa.”

“That’s what I’d always be, isn’t it—your beloved slave.”

She held her left hand before his face, then took his and lifted it to the same level. Raicree and dascree faced each other between them.

“We are unequal, Nathu Rai. And inequity cannot be brought to union.”

Jaya grasped her hand with his own, bringing their marked palms together. The touch sent a thousand tongues of flame through him.

“These marks mean nothing. They’re just so much pigmentation. You are more than my equal, Ana.”

Her eyes met his again over their entwined fingers. “I hear the words, Nathu Rai. I have to ask myself if you truly believe them.”

She pulled her fingers from his and slipped away.

Jaya Sarojin had to ask himself the same thing.

oOo

Duran Prakash arrived at the Sarojin Palace precisely on time and was therefore nearly ten minutes late by the time the security team had gotten through checking his id and searching his car and person. He was convinced Jaya Sarojin had given them special instructions to make the experience as embarrassing as possible for him.

He dined with the Rani Melantha in one of the smaller private parlors on the premiere floor—the Room of Moons she called it, since the dominant color was a soft, silvery whisper reminiscent of moonlight. She was not her usual talkative self and Prakash hoped that signified some anxiety over Jaya’s run-in with the WoCoa thugs.

Over dessert she confirmed his hope, but not quite as he expected.

“Duran,” she said, “what do you know about the attack on my son? Were you responsible?”

He nearly dropped a cup of scalding channa in his lap. “Melantha, what can you be thinking? Who would have put such a vicious idea into your head?”

Her eyes were on the fire in the half-moon hearth. Her fingers toyed with the folds of her gown.

“You wanted to influence his vote.”

“I wanted him to vote sensibly and justly. I believed, and still do believe, that once all the facts were revealed he would have found the Consortium’s case to be the stronger. I assure you, I sent no thugs to intimidate him.”

That was probably the last truth he would tell this evening.

“Can you assure me that your masters didn’t?”

“The Consortium doesn’t conduct its business that way, Melantha, surely you know that. I shouldn’t be discussing this with you.”

“No one will discuss it with me, Duran. No one. Jivinta Mina said this afternoon that you knew why Jaya was attacked, then closed up as tight as Greed’s jewel box.”

“That I-?” Prakash was quite realistically shocked. Who’d have thought the old woman was half aware of what was going on?

“I supposed she must have meant the KNC was responsible.”

“Ridiculous!”

“Is it? Who else would want to pressure him into throwing the Sarojin vote behind Kasi-Nawahr?”

“The Worker’s Coalition.”

“And who are they?”

“Only a simple group of fanatical and misguided souls acting out their fear. They’re desperate men doing desperate things and we regret that heartily. You must not believe the Consortium condones their actions.”

The Rani stood. “How desperate are you, Duran? How desperate are Nigudha Bhrasta and his Board of Directors?”

“Melantha, I assure you, the Directors of Kasi-Nawahr Associates have not been plotting to influence the Sarojin. By God, how could you think it? Nigudha Bhrasta is above reproach in his business dealings. Ask Namun Vedda, if you won’t believe me. He’s dealt with Bhrasta for years. Can you honestly picture him consorting with someone who’d send a troupe of henchmen after his godson?”

“No. Honestly, I can’t. But Namun’s dealings with the KNC do not make him privy to the secrets of its directors.”

“The Board of Directors is innocent of this, Melantha. Nigudha Bhrasta is innocent of it. I give you my word.”

“Ah. Your word.” She nodded and moved away from the table toward the pale, arched mantelpiece. “How much is that worth, do you think?”

“Melantha, your distrust wounds me. I-“ He cut off as the chamber door swung open and Ari appeared.

“Pardon, Rani, but the Vadin Bel Adivaram desires an audience with you. He says it’s urgent.”

The Rani’s brow furrowed and she made a sweeping gesture with one hand as if to bat the intrusion away. “Adivaram? What could he want? Show him in, Aridas.”

Ari bowed and moved silently back through the door. He returned seconds later with a distressed looking Bel Adivaram. The Vadin went directly to the Rani.

“My dear,” he said, clasping her hand, “I must speak to you about your son.”

The Rani’s gaze flickered to Duran Prakash, drawing Adivaram’s after it.

“Prakash-sama,” the Vadin greeted him curtly. “My apologies for interrupting your obviously pleasant evening, but I must ask to have private words with the Rani Sarojin. I assure you it is important.”

Prakash rose and bowed. “Vadin, your apologies are not necessary. Excuse me, Rani, I’ll be in the Court Parlor.”

The Rani nodded to him, then moved to sit on a couch flanking the hearth. She motioned Adivaram to a chair opposite.

He did not go to the Court Parlor. He went only as far as the corridor just beyond the chamber doors, which he left very slightly ajar. From his vantage point, he could see the back of the old Vadin’s head and Melantha’s face.

“You say you have some urgent business that concerns Jaya?” the Rani asked.

Adivaram spread his hands in a broad gesture. “To be completely frank, my dear, this could be a matter of life and death. Ah, I know,” he said, apparently reacting to her expression of disbelief. “The old man loves to exaggerate. I assure you, dear Melantha, this time I do not. Jaya is embarking on a very dangerous exploration into things I fear he is ill-equipped to handle.”

“What do you mean? What things? He’s no longer involved with the case against AGIM.”

“Oh, only incidentally. Besides, that is a matter of record with the Vrinda Varma and the Inner Circle. I would take any fears associated with that case to them. No, no. This has nothing to do with that.”

The Rani’s brows winged gracefully upward. “No? I thought everything had to do with that.”

“Unfortunately, this is an entirely separate matter, one it would do me little good to take to the Vrinda Varma. It came to my attention as a matter of, em, internal Zone security.”

“What did?”

“Your son has taken it upon himself to champion the cause of Avasan yevetha.”

“He what?” The Rani’s relaxed pose became suddenly rigid. She flushed, shook her head and made a languid move to rearrange her silken skirts. “How is this a matter of life and death?”

“There are people who have, shall we say, an interest in the, ah, disposal of these yevetha I mention. People who would rather that their disposal not be investigated.”

“Don’t be mysterious, Bel. It irritates me. What people?”

Adivaram cocked his head to one side as if about to impart a great confidence. “It has come to my attention, Rani, that a ring of thieves are plying a very lucrative and very specialized trade in my Zone. They are waylaying travelers as they wander the Warrows and stealing their id. The beneficiaries of this activity would seem to be one of our more prosperous brokerages. Your son is attempting to apply the leverage of his station against the masters of this illegal enterprise.”

The Rani shrugged. “So tell him to leave off. Tell him it’s for the Sarngin to sort out.”

“Ah, I wish it were that simple. Your son, Rani, noble as he certainly is, is also stubborn. It would seem his, er, liaison with your stunning Avasan clanswoman has made him particularly tenacious about exposing these conspirators. The warnings given him by my officers were useless.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on pudgy knees. “We suspect, Rani, that there are people of high position in the business community who derive much material wealth from these activities, and Jaya is placing himself in direct conflict with their interests. I do not exaggerate when I say that these people may be very dangerous. They have much to protect.”

He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her in silence for a moment. Duran Prakash could well imagine the expression of deep concern on the old man’s face.

“Believe me, if my authority extended over the members of the Taj House, I would order him to leave this matter to the Sarngin, but...” He shrugged. “Unless he does something illegal—which we both know is entirely unlikely—my hands are tied. You, my dear, were the only person I could think of in a position to influence the Nathu Rai. Please, I urge you, for your sake as well as his, make him see reason. I can do no more than pray he comes to no further harm.”

The Rani glanced at him sharply, her eyes glittering strangely in her porcelain face. “Further harm? Are you linking the beating with this other business?”

“Those thugs were not what they seemed to be, Rani. I know that as well as Jaya does. They weren’t KNC wharfers, you know. They were yevetha.”

The Rani rose and moved to the mantelpiece, putting her back to her guest. “Why would they claim to be KNC wharfers if they were involved in this other business?”

“Can you think of a more perfect or ready-made cloak? You remarked on it yourself—it seems that everything is about the KNC and AGIM.”

The Rani was silent for a moment, toying with a mantelpiece decoration. “What you say makes some sense. And I must admit, Bel, I am afraid for Jaya right now. I...I have already lost my husband. I don’t want to lose my son, as well.”

“No, no. Of course not.”

“I’ll speak to him,” she said. “He’ll accuse me of meddling, of course, but I will try.”

“Good.” The Vadin nodded, rising. “I have no desire to see Jaya follow his father’s path to the tomb. Well, my dear, I thank you for hearing me out. I must be going.”

The Rani, still finding her mantelpiece of more interest than her guest, waved her hand dismissively. “Yes. Yes, of course,” she murmured.

Bel Adivaram rounded the sofa and moved toward the door; Duran Prakash slid silently away from the door.

The Rani asked: “You mentioned Avasans in particular—Avasan yevetha. Why?”

Prakash paused to hear the answer.

“Because, of course, they become yevetha most easily, do they not? No cree.”

Prakash hurried away down the hall to the Court Parlor before the old Vadin might see him. He was waiting there for Melantha, sipping wine when she arrived several minutes later. He set down his drink and came to take her hands as she stepped into the room, leading her solicitously to her throne. He liked to see her there. It reminded him how important their liaison was.

When she was seated, he knelt at her knee and gazed into her face. “My dear, you look troubled. Has the Vadin Adivaram brought you bad news?”

“He has brought distressing news. It seems my ‘noble’ son has gotten himself embroiled in the affairs of some Avasan yevetha at the behest of his so-called ‘cousin.’”

“So-called?”

She shook her head and waved him aside. “Ah, the girl is a gaur-mouse, I’m sure of it. Snuggling up to a powerful relation.”

Prakash raised his eyebrows. “The Vadin came to warn you about that?”

“No, the Vadin came to warn me that he suspects Jaya has angered or frightened some very unscrupulous people by threatening their livelihood, which has something to do with manufacturing yevetha from Avasan visitors so they can be sold to local dalalis. That’s what I inferred, at any rate. He...he said he was afraid for Jaya’s life. He thought I might be able to influence Jaya—convince him to leave the matter to the Sarngin.” She laughed. “Can you imagine that? He wants me to influence my son!”

“I take it he has tried to make the Nathu Rai see reason and failed?”

The Rani nodded. “There’s nothing he could do, of course, except suggest politely and with all due respect that Jaya not endanger himself...or interfere in the Vadin’s jurisdiction.”

Prakash gazed at her for a moment, losing his train of thought in the way the soft lighting in the room reflected in the silky, woody sheen of her hair. He shook away a wave of hunger and reached up to touch her temple.

“Melantha, your voice is as cool as moonlight, but I would be a fool to believe this façade of serenity. Can’t you tell me, just once, what you’re really feeling?”

She met his eyes for perhaps the first time since he’d known her. He could see the anxiety in them as clearly as if it had been written there. Her guard was slipping, finally.

“I’m frightened, Duran,” she said. “Jaya is beyond my reach. In the last five years, he’s slipped further and further away from me. Day by day. Inch by inch. I’ve built my wall; he’s built his. I can’t talk to him without it turning into an argument. We’re adversaries locked in an uneasy truce, and even that collapses from time to time. And now...God, if I come to him pleading concern, he’ll laugh in my face—and with every right. What do I do, Duran? What can I say to him?”

A tear raced down her cheek, leaving a dark trail.

Prakash was astounded. Reflexively, he moved to catch the tear before it fell from her chin.

“Hold me,” she said, and it was not a command, it was a plea.

oOo

Bel Adivaram arrived home and checked the messages on his private vicom. There was one—an audio message. The woman’s voice said, “Bel, we must meet immediately. Tonight, if possible. It’s urgent.”

He checked the time. It wasn’t late. He supposed a trip across town wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, especially if there was some sort of compensation at the end of it.

He took his aircar and drove himself to a car park in the Silk District. He took a lift basket down to the sub-level and strolled the private, well-lit promenade that ran beneath the street. Once across, he selected another lift basket and emerged into a small parlor at the rear of the Badan-Devaki foyer. He’d barely seated himself in the sumptuous little room when Kareen Devaki appeared in response to the sensor that had chimed his presence.

“Well, Kareen, what brings me out this evening?”

“Something we should discuss privately. My parlor?” She gestured toward the lift.

He rose and followed her, frankly admiring the way her body caused the fabric of her gown to ripple and flow. He began to have delightful thoughts about her and was disappointed when it turned out that Ashur Badan was waiting for them in her private quarters.

“So,” he said, ensconcing himself in a large cup chair, “it’s business after all, is it?”

“I said it was urgent,” Kareen told him.

“Yes, you did. And what is it, my dear, that seems so urgent to you?”

“This.” She handed him the id necklace; watched carefully as he turned it over in his hands and read the inscription.

His face went through a rapid series of expressions. Finally, he looked up at her.

“You think this woman is a member of Rokh Nadim’s family?”

“A distinct possibility, wouldn’t you say?” asked Kareen. “Does he have a daughter?”

Adivaram nodded. “Yes. Yes, he does. I don’t know her name, but I can certainly find out.” His eyes glinted. “This is incredible! Where is she?”

Kareen made an uncharacteristically uncertain gesture. “We’re not sure. The thieves didn’t get this to us immediately. All of the females we processed that week have been placed.”

Adivaram paled. “You mean, you’ve lost her?”

“No, no, Vadin!” Ashur leapt to reassure him. “It’s simply a matter of tracking our sales for that week and contacting the owner. I’m sure we can find her.”

Adivaram nodded. “Hmm. An inconvenience then, not a disaster. Well, let’s find out if we even need to bother finding this girl. I’ll need to use a vicom terminal.”

“This way.” Kareen led him to the terminal in her private office.

Personal information on the AGIM Chairman was harder to come by than he expected, but in about twenty minutes time, Bel Adivaram was looking at a list of names culled from the Avasan Census Base—they belonged to the members of Rokh Nadim’s personal compound. He requested the names of only immediate family members and was rewarded with a list of six.

“There!” exclaimed Kareen, pointing over his shoulder at the display. “Anala Nadim. His daughter!”

Bel looked up at her and smiled. “Now, you must find her.”