by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 16 —

  In which a raid is planned, Ana is discovered and the Rani makes an important decision.

oOo

“I regret, Nathu Rai, that I am unable to trust more of my men.”

Mall Gar gazed out the mullioned doors of Jaya Sarojin’s private study, his eyes only vaguely registering the vernal glow of growth beyond.

“You can trust mine,” Jaya assured him. “How many will we need?”

“A small group for the inside work. If you can give me seven, maybe eight men, that should suffice. If we need reinforcements they can be called out at the last minute—so that they can give nothing away.”

“I think I can manage that many, including myself.”

Gar turned, appalled at the suggestion. “You, Nathu Rai? You can’t take part in this raid. It’s unthinkable.”

“It’s unthinkable that I not be part of it. I have...a somewhat personal stake in this. It’s a matter of honor and of something more than honor.”

“That being?”

“Friendship.”

“Your other informant?” guessed Gar.

“My other informant. Everything dear to that person is threatened by this in ways I’m only dimly beginning to understand.”

Gar nodded, then glanced at Govi, who sat by the fire, looking more like a well-fed mahesa than a beggar. Or at least, Gar thought, like a mahesa’s well-fed pet.

He gestured at the table where he had placed a folio of maps. “Summon your men and we shall begin,” he said, only belatedly realizing he had issued an order to his Nathu Rai.

He glanced at Jaya’s face, his mouth open in apology, but saw only amusement there.

“You remind me of my father, Commander,” said Jaya. “He was also a decisive man.”

He rang for the others, who appeared within minutes, and they began, Commander Gar leading the discussion of timing and tactics.

“We have done some reconnoitering,” he said with a nod at Govi, “and have located a vantage point here.” His finger pressed a spot on the detailed map of the Silk District’s main avenue. “From a point on the roof of the building facing the Badan-Devaki across the alley, the rear entrance is in plain sight. The guards’ activities are clearly visible, as are any visitors to their post.”

“Traffic?” asked Jaya.

“Only service wagons,” said Govi quickly. “Refuse wagon, twice weekly at dawn—Kistna and Mu’ad; linens weekly on Sakya; foodstuffs pretty regular—first, fourth and eighth day of each week, plus special deliveries.” He shrugged and tilted his head. “A busy alley—but on a schedule.”

“Ah,” said Jaya, “but has the schedule changed since you got hustled out of the alley?”

Gar raised an eyebrow. “It should be easy enough to find out about the refuse wagon, but we have no way of knowing who delivers their foodstuffs and linens, short of asking them.”

“Tripura,” said Govi. “Tripura brings the food; Lipyate, the linens. Oh, and there is a couture—Akala House—that delivers clothing and toiletees.”

“That’s ‘toiletries,’ and you were a very nosy neighbor,” observed Jaya.

“The air wagons were not as I’d call slinkers-in. They made a big old blow where I’d tucked up. So, I had frequent occasion to read them.”

“You read?” asked Gar, surprised.

Govi made a rude gesture at his own head. “Crazy, not ignorant,” he said.

Mall Gar smiled. “Then, thanks to you, we shall know these schedules and determine how best to use them.”

oOo

“This description matches none of the young women the Sarngin brought in last week.”

Ashur Badan made a frustrated noise between his compressed lips and scrolled the data past his eyes again.

“Ah, well, here—this one has dark reddish hair, but dark skin, as well. Not even Avasan...from some loggertown. These are Avasan, but all the wrong coloring, wrong names...”

“She might well have lied about her name,” said Kareen Devaki.

“But not about the color of her skin, eyes, and hair.”

Kareen jingled her bracelets impatiently. “Then perhaps someone else brought her in. Maybe-“

Ashur’s eyes met hers on a shared recollection.

“My God, how could I have forgotten?”

“Or I,” said Kareen acidly. “I recall thinking I would sell my pride to spend one night in her Genda skin...in that House.”

Ashur snorted. “In his bed, you mean. Ah, yes! That must be her, the Sarojin’s find. Then we’re looking in the wrong place.” He patted at the keyboard. “There she is! Nameless girl, private processing, Jaya Sarojin’s personal cree.”

Kareen leaned over his shoulder to peer at the full-face and profile images taken during the quick-processing.

“That’s the woman. Damn.”

“Ji, she’s exquisite!”

“Don’t drool—think! How are we going to get her out of that House?”

“We could buy her back.”

“What reason could we give? She was never ours to begin with. And why should he sell her? He certainly doesn’t need whatever money we might offer. Besides which, there’s every possibility that he knows who she is. Send for Adivaram.”

“He’s already here. He came in about half an hour ago for the private auction. Dare we interrupt his enjoyment?”

“Dare we not?”

The Vadin, when he arrived in Kareen Devaki’s office, was already rubbing his hands together, gleefully. 

“Well? Where is she?”

“In the Sarojin Palace,” said Kareen.

“In the-“ The Vadin’s glee was blown to the four winds. His face suffused with violent color. “By the mount of Indra—it-it must be the same woman!”

“The same woman, Vadin?”

Adivaram made a cyclic gesture with one hand. “The one he’s been parading around as his ‘Avasan cousin.’ A Rani of the House Sadira; some obscure branch of the Saroj. A rare beauty; cherry-colored hair, eyes like the snow clouds. Yes! Damn! I sat at table with her just days ago and had no idea-“ He cut off in mid-sentence, his hands fidgeting with the silk shawl that covered his shoulders. “Ji! If this is the woman...! She will testify!” His eyes snapped to the dalal. “Your vicom.”

Kareen Devaki gestured at the device then herded her partner toward the doorway. There, they stopped, hovering. Adivaram was already on the link, using the earpieces for privacy, his face intent on the screen as he spoke.

“Believe me, I do not interrupt you frivolously, so cease glaring at me like a fractious child. Your ‘friend’ will want to hear this, too, so have him gather ‘round. The so-called ‘Rani’ our Nathu Rai has been embellishing his presence with is a dasa processed by Badan-Devaki.”

The Vadin waited silently while this news elicited a response at the other end of the comlink. Watching, Kareen Devaki smiled, grudgingly admiring how Adivaram played his fish. She did not move to see the face he studied so archly. She suspected whose it might be, but was not permitted to be certain.

“I’m gratified you find the news so titillating,” said Adivaram dryly. “Now let me tell you who this dasa is. Her name is Anala Nadim. You are familiar with that name?”

He sat back in his chair and nodded, fingers laced over his expansive girth. “Yes, I thought so. I would wager she is at the heart of our young Lord’s sudden interest in the affairs of those unfortunate enough to wander Kasi without the proper identification. She was, you realize, the ‘clanswoman’ who was with him during the attack of the Coalitionists.”

Kareen could hear the vicom audio spike from across the room.

Adivaram winced, then said, “Yes, and she will probably be called to testify in the next day or so before the Inner Circle.”

He pulled the earpieces away suddenly and gave them a baleful glance. “Damn it! You’re deafening me! ...Yes! Yes, I know, but she is also Rokh Nadim’s daughter and, I assure you, that will count for something with the Circle. ...No, I would not recommend that. You were lucky once, but I think a repeat would raise suspicions. You don’t need Sarojin dead, you need him in your pocket. ...It can be done—he’s not his father—and I think the woman is the key to all of it. If you have her, you have not only the Nathu Rai Sarojin, but Rokh Nadim, as well. And if you have Nadim, you have the Guild. So now, the question is: How can you have the woman?”

There was a moment of silence, during which the Vadin nodded and made rumbles of agreement. At last he made a dismissive gesture and said, “I’ll wait here for your call.”

He removed the earpieces and tugged at his ears.

“Your puppet-masters play the big game, don’t they?” asked Kareen.

Adivaram’s glare quashed her curiosity. “That is absolutely none of your business, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep it that way.”

“I don’t care who they are,” said Ashur Badan from the doorway behind his partner. “What are they going to do?”

“They are thinking,” said Adivaram. “We should all pray their thought bears fruit.”

oOo

Duran Prakash stared at the kinetically moving palette of one of his spectacular collection of light paintings, but failed to enjoy the display.

“A.N.,” he said. “Damn! It was right there for me to see, but I was so drunk with that Sarojin witch, I missed it.”

“What are you babbling about?” asked his companion.

“At the Mesha Fest when I went through that girl’s wardrobe, there was an insulsuit hidden among the whispwear. It was well-worn and had the initials ‘A.N.’ on the breast. The girl’s name being ‘Ana,’ I simply assumed the last letter had been torn away.”

Nigudha Bhrasta gazed at him steadily, eyes dark with acid. “You never mentioned this insulsuit before. Didn’t you think it significant?”

“I...I...”

Bhrasta shook his head and laughed. “Damn you to Niraya Hell, Prakash! Are you so besotted with Melantha Sarojin that you didn’t even think to question the presence of such a garment in the wardrobe of a Sarojin clanswoman?”

“She’s Avasan. Avasans wear insulsuits.”

“The working classes wear insulsuits. Miners wear insulsuits. Did it never occur to you that a Rani would not?” Bhrasta couched the question in a light purring tone that made Duran Prakash sweat.

“But she-she has a raicree! I saw it when she greeted the Deva Radha.”

“Avasans don’t have cree. Unless they’ve been made das. I should think you would know that. You purport to be our legal expert.”

Prakash flushed. “My area of expertise is corporate law. I never had occasion to study caste law.”

“No doubt you were too busy studying the Bogar to have the time...or the energy. Sometimes you disgust me, Duran. Indulging in such unsavory and pagan practices.”

“It didn’t disgust you when you thought my mastery of the Bogar was an asset. It’s an asset that’s availed you and the Consortium very well, my friend. Or have you forgotten how useful it’s been in my dealings with the Rani Sarojin?”

Bhrasta seated himself. “Is the Rani now of the opinion that her precious son’s injuries were the result of his prying into the other matter?”

Prakash nodded, forcing himself to relax back into his chair. His temper had come close to being uncorked and that, with this man, would have been disastrous. Friends they might be, but he was still an employee. He had not to forget that...though it rankled.

“I arranged for Adivaram to interrupt our dinner the other night with his concern for the young mahesa,” he said.

“Then she’s of no further concern to us.”

Prakash smiled. “She is of concern to me. I am now her lover.”

His companion seemed less than impressed. “How important you make it sound. Lovers! Next I suppose you’ll tell me you’ve attained surata with her, as well.”

“Isn’t that the point of it all?”

Bhrasta regarded him with renewed interest. “Have you attained it, then—the Bliss?”

“Yes. Why should you care?”

“I don’t, but we have a mutual friend who is also most interested in these...mystical quests and chimeras. He’ll be delighted to hear you were finally able to achieve your...heart’s desire. Unfortunate that you will no longer be able to grant the Rani that level of attention.”

“What?” Prakash nearly held his breath.

“You will no longer pursue intimacy with Melantha Sarojin. At least not until things are under control.”

“You can’t...order me-“

“I certainly can. I just did. You are lust-drunk around that woman. Stay out of her bed and keep her out of yours until we are in control of this situation. Now, let’s get down to business—how are we going to lure the Rohina out of the Sarojin Palace?”

“Hasn’t it occurred to you,” said Prakash, forcing his voice to remain even, “that the Rani may be useful to us in that endeavor? If she thought the woman was dangerous to her son, she might drive her out of the Palace for us. My relationship with her gives me a distinct advantage when it comes to credibility.”

He leaned forward across the desk, his fist clenched as if around a jewel. “She cried in my arms that night. She bared her soul to me.”

“And then her body, eh?”

Prakash sat back abruptly. “You have the soul of a purchasing clerk. The point is she trusts me. No man has made love to her since Bhaktasu Sarojin. No man but me!”

There was a long moment of silence during which Duran Prakash watched the darkly thoughtful face, waiting to know the effectiveness of his ploy.

At last Bhrasta spoke. “Tell her you have proof the woman is an impostor. Tell her the woman is an AGIM agent sent to gather information and sway the Sarojin vote. Tell her the woman is being investigated by the Inner Circle. That ought to put a different complexion on their ‘invitation’ to testify.”

Prakash nodded. “I guarantee you, she will be only too eager to get the ‘Rani Sadira’ out of her house. She has no love for the woman, believe me.”

“I believe you. But, in the event that the Rani’s disaffection for her isn’t effective, we need to have a contingency plan. Perhaps Anala Nadim’s fascination with rescuing her fellow Avasans can be made to serve.”

“Shall I contact Adivaram at the dalali?” asked Prakash, nodding toward the vicom.

“By all means. His devious mind should be able to concoct a suitable plan.”

Prakash smiled, relaxing again. “I’m sure. Though I doubt it will be necessary.”

“As long as it results in me getting my hands on that Nadim woman, I don’t care whose idea it is.”

oOo

It was an odd-looking entourage that parted the morning crowds at Bazaar. The old-fashioned covered palanquin was richly ornamented and draped with the Sarojin blood and flame. Borne by four men, it rocked down the main sward, preceded by Nathu Rai Jaya Sarojin and his steward, Ravidas, and surrounded on all sides by the shimmering music of the hundreds of tiny bells woven into its glittering valance.

Passers-by assumed that the old Rani, Mina, rode within, but it was Anala Nadim who sat in the canopied box.

The palanquin came to rest at a wagon decorated with the smiling Sun. Outside, Ravi announced that the Rani Sarojin would have her stars and stones read. A girl’s voice answered lightly and with laughter that she’d rather read his stones instead.

Jaya took Ana’s arm and helped her from the box, murmuring to her as he would to his Jivinta. She saw the bright-tented kiosk and the wagon behind, with its smiling portrait of Mitras, and her heart leapt in her chest. It was all she could do not to not to straighten her body and run to the wagon, but the bent and frail do not run. So she gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into Jaya’s forearm and prayed for patience.

At last she was up the stairs and within the confines of Lila’s wagon, which were dominated by the two tall men who stood in the center of the long, narrow room.

Ana straightened, at last, and threw back her hood. “Father!”

Her father and brother both embraced her at once, enveloping her completely in the warmth of their greeting. After moments of tears and endearments, they pulled apart.

“You are wonderful to look at, Ana,” said Rokh Nadim, then offered his hand to Jaya. “Thank you, Nathu Rai, for taking such good care of my daughter, and for returning her to me safely.”

Ana glanced up at her father. His eyes were on Jaya’s face, reading it. For his part, Jaya clasped the offered hand in a firm grip.

“You wish Ana to go into hiding with you then, Nadimsama?”

Ana held her breath.

“That would only increase her danger. No, I have at my disposal a small vessel lent to me by friends. In it, Ana may return to Avasa and the safety of our family compound.”

Ana stared at him; her heart seemingly still in her breast. “I can go home? Now?”

He nodded. “You may go home. If you wish. Mata says I must tell you she misses you terribly,” he added, “and that she’s afraid for you.”

“And I for her. It’s been so hard not knowing what’s happening at home. Not seeing you and Mata; not even knowing where you are.”

Rokh Nadim nodded. “All that can be over now. You can go home.”

She listened carefully to the words—weighed the tone and the force of them. She felt as if there was a shaft plummet where her heart should be.

“If I go home, who will look for the others? The Lost Ones?”

“I will,” said Jaya. “I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to find them.”

Ana protested. “You endanger your life—“

“Some things are worth endangering one’s life.”

She tried to read his face, to penetrate his eyes. Yes, she thought, some things are.

She turned her eyes back to her father. “I can’t go home, Father. I have testimony to give before the Inner Circle about the attack on the Nathu Rai.”

“Is that necessary?” asked her brother.

“Bala, it is necessary that I be willing to do what I can in these circumstances. Jaya has made great sacrifices for me—for us. I, too, must be willing to sacrifice. This isn’t something I can run away from.”

“I can give my own testimony before the Nine,” Jaya said. “My word is worth a good deal in Kasi.”

Ana fidgeted. The rich layers of clothing she wore suddenly felt claustrophobic and binding.

“The Rani knows who I am, Jaya. She threatened to tell Prakash. If she does, your word is worth nothing.”

Jaya stared at her, his face frozen and expressionless. “How?” he asked. “How does she know?”

Ana made an impatient gesture. “Someone warned her about your involvement with the missing Avasans. He happened to mention we have no cree.” She raised her hand. “I do.”

Bala made a hissing sound and turned his face away. Their father closed his eyes and whispered something too softly to be heard.

“But, that wouldn’t tell her-“ Jaya began.

“She asked me who I was,” said Ana. “I couldn’t lie to her. And I can’t lie now.” She turned to her father. “Father, I’m not going home. I have to stay in Kasi and testify. I have to tell the Inner Circle who I am.”

After a moment of inscrutable study of his daughter’s face, Rokh Nadim smiled and laid a large hand on her shoulder. “Yes,” he said, “I think that would be best.”

She looked up at him, still troubled. “I won’t compromise you?”

“No, Ana. You won’t compromise me. You’ve made a good decision. The Circle must hear what you have to say.”

“I think, sama,” said Jaya, “that they also must hear what you have to say.”

Nadim tilted his head to one side and looked nowhere in particular. “Oh, they will. I promise you, they will.”

oOo

She found him waiting in the Court Parlor, pacing the room and looking distraught. She paused in the doorway to watch him. He pretended not to see her, but continued his fretful pacing until she spoke.

“Duran! This is a surprise! I didn’t expect to see you.”

Nor, he wagered, did she expect the fervid embrace she found herself enveloped in.

“Melantha,” he whispered against her cheek, “I had to see you.”

She pulled away from him and studied his anxious face. “Why? Whatever is wrong? You look like your world is about to collapse.”

“It’s not my world I’m worried about, Lalasa. It’s yours.”

Melantha laughed. “Mine? What are you talking about?”

He led her to her throne and seated her in it, still holding her hand. “I’m talking about that girl your son has brought into your house. She’s not what she seems to be, Melantha. She’s an impostor.”

“An impostor!” Melantha stood and moved away, putting her back to him. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not the Rani Sadira. She’s an agent of AGIM, sent here to gather information and sway your son’s vote. Or, barring that, to compromise his position.”

Melantha paused by the central hearth to run a manicured fingernail along its polished surface. “What an incredible story! How did you get this information?”

“My intelligence network uncovered it. I know it’s stunning, but it’s true. Their meeting at that Hotel was no coincidence. It was a set up—conceived by AGIM to throw them together.”

Melantha turned her head, watching him from the corner of her eye. “Are you sure of that?”

He nodded, hoping he looked suitably weary and rueful. “I have witnesses who will swear the girl paid a baggage handler to bring her luggage to the attention of the concierge just as the Nathu Rai was leaving the Hotel dining room. Naturally the concierge thought the bag belonged to the Nathu Rai, it appeared to have his crest on it. It was a set up.”

“Was it, indeed? Tell me something, Duran...” The Rani turned to face him, leaning her elegant body against the huge, white expanse of the hearth face. “Do you love me?”

“What?” Prakash blinked at the non-sequitur. “Of-of course I love you. Why else would I be here?”

“Why indeed? Why are you here, Duran? Why are you telling me this?”

He moved toward her, willing his face to be solemn, earnest. “Because I love you, Melantha, as I know you love your son. I want to protect you, as I know you want to protect him.”

“And what shall I do now, Duran, to protect my son from this woman?”

Ah, good. She did not prolong the game, he could move more quickly.

“Get her out of the Palace and away from him. Before she can influence him further. Before she can hurt him.”

“How can I do that?”

“Confront her. Expose her. Put her in a coach and send her away.”

“How earnest you sound.”

“I am earnest, Melantha. This is a more dangerous situation than you realize.”

Melantha was looking down at her hands, rearranging her rings. “Well, I’ve already confronted her, Duran. And putting her in a coach and sending her away is out of the question... since she’s my son’s dasa.” 

“She-“ He was thunderstruck. “How-?”

“How did I know? I asked her. She has a cree. Avasans don’t have cree as a rule. So, I confronted her with that fact and she admitted she was Jaya’s property and not a long lost cousin.”

Prakash licked his lips. “You must have been furious.”

She shrugged. “At first—but of course, I have to be fair and lay the lie at my son’s door. I can hardly believe she coerced him.”

“Really? A woman can exert a great deal of power over a man. Especially one such as that.”

“You mean a Rohin woman?”

“They are said to have the Jadu—or at least to think they do—and I’ve heard they are schooled in Kunda disciplines that make the Bogar rites seem like the play of innocent children.”

Melantha’s mouth twitched. “Truly? Should I fear for my son’s sanity, then? I would hate to have him go mad from too much pleasure.”

Prakash scowled. The reins of this interview were no longer in his hands. “It has been known to happen.”

She stared at him, bright-eyed, then threw her head back and laughed.

He colored, embarrassment rising from his gorge. “You take this much too lightly, Melantha. The girl is not only Avasan, she’s Genda Sita. She’s involved him in dangerous undertakings. Surely, you must want her out of your household.”

“No, I don’t. And do you know why I don’t? Because you seem so very much in favor of it.”

Prakash could only stare at her as if she’d started speaking an incomprehensible dialect. “I-I don’t understand...”

The Rani shook her head. “I’m not surprised. You stupid man. Do you think I can’t tell when I’m being used? Do you think I’m so dim-witted I don’t realize I’m being lied to?”

“Lied to!” Prakash felt the blood drain from his face. “The girl may be a dasa, but I assure you, she is also an AGIM agent—owned by AGIM, it appears.”

Melantha Sarojin moved back to her throne and seated herself regally, her gaze eloquent with scorn. “Avasans don’t own people, Duran. I’ve spoken to my houseguests enough to know that. Oh, and one other thing: You say your witnesses will swear she arranged their meeting at a Hotel near the Spaceport? They didn’t meet in a Hotel. There was never any confusion over baggage because she didn’t have any. They met at the Bazaar where Jaya apparently just kept her from being arrested as yevetha. But the Sarngin refused to let the girl out of their sight—he was forced to have her processed. Poor Jaya, he’s always hated the whole concept of das. Another way in which he is like his father.”

Prakash stared at her for several seconds, his body stiffly upright. “You knew all this and yet you let me go on with my... accusations. Why?”

“I was curious. I wondered how many lies you could tell in the space of five minutes. I counted three.”

“I lied about the girl’s identity. I admit that.”

“That was the first lie.”

“I only repeated their lie about the way they met.”

“And added the lie that there was a witness. That was the second.”

“What was the third?”

“That you love me.”

He put his hands out to her, ready to beg, to grovel.

“Melantha, please, I“

“No, don’t. It’s not important. Just a matter of pride. Bhaktasu always said pride was a fool’s surrogate for selfrespect. He was right.”

Prakash dropped his hands to his sides. “What else do you know about the girl?”

“I assume I know at least as much as you do. I know who she really is...above and beyond being Jaya’s dasa.”

His eyes raised, hopeful. “Then you know I’m right about the danger to your son. I assure you, I am neither lying nor exaggerating when I tell you his life is in jeopardy.”

“I believe you. Now, get out of my house, Prakashsama, before I’m forced to have Aridas and his inestimable sons throw you out.”

He left without protest, in a haze of stunned disbelief.

oOo

Melantha Sarojin sat for a while in her throne, her hand on the arm of the one next to it, her eyes trained sightlessly ahead. She recalled a time when that second throne had been occupied. When she and her husband had greeted guests from the Taj Houses of all Mehtar, from the most illustrious and Holy Orders, from the most prestigious schools of Law and Science.

She’d felt respect then—and if it was not directed at her, at least it came to her by way of the man who occupied the other throne.

By God, he’d respected her...and loved her, too.

Perhaps Jaya was right. Perhaps she’d been a different woman then. A woman worthy of this seat. Worthy of respect...and self-respect. Now, she didn’t have even a fool’s pride to solace her.

“Stupid,” she whispered, and allowed her self to weep.