by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 13 —

In which a would-be kidnapper dies suspiciously in jail and the stakes are raised. 

oOo

“Report on project AS17B.”

The vicom terminal beeped. “Voice identification accepted,” it responded. “Project AS17B code Black. Do you wish visual report, oral report, or hard copy?”

“Visual.”

“Reporting.”

The system displayed the report’s contents on the vicom screen, oblivious to the displeasure in its master’s face. Across from him, Duran Prakash looked up questioningly from his papers.

“The Sarngin have one of Subham’s idiots!”

“What? What happened?”

“Evidently, Nathu Rai Sarojin and his Rani proved to be too much for them. The others escaped. Small consolation.”

“But perhaps the wheel has been turned,” suggested Prakash. “Perhaps our Nathu Rai has been sufficiently unsettled.”

Nigudha Bhrasta looked as if he had swallowed something disagreeable. “He was slightly injured. I should thank the Avatar he wasn’t killed. Fools.”

“What will you do?”

“First, let me tell you what you must do. You must contrive to find out if our crude persuasion had any effect. Damn! We must have the Sarojin vote, Duran. Without it we stand no chance at all of swaying the Vrinda Varma. If those old cretins will vote with the Taj House, then we must have the Taj House in our palm.” He cupped his hand before Prakash’s grim face.

“And the thug? What if he speaks?”

“That’s easily taken care of. See to Sarojin. I’ll deal with our dim-witted associates.”

“Are we now contemplating a return to subtlety?” asked Prakash. He despised the use of violence in these matters; he felt it showed weakness and naiveté. Not that he’d ever say as much to his employer. It did, however, afford him a certain spiritual and moral superiority. An offset to material power.

“It seems we must. At least, once we have seen to our current problem.”

oOo

Jaya entered the Assembly chamber intentionally late. It gave him an opportunity to watch the faces in the KNC box as he picked his way to his seat. There was some reaction to his split lip, bruised cheek, and bandaged neck, but nothing he could honestly read as anything more than curiosity. He paid closest attention to the reaction to the Chairman of the Kasi-Nawahr Board. Nigudha Bhrasta was a big cadaver of a man with eyes like steel ballbearings—eyes that were perpetually narrowed. He had, Jaya realized wryly, no expression to read.

After the invocation, the Deva Radha called for a reading of the summary of the last meeting. Jaya chose that moment to press his comment button.

The Deva looked at him questioningly. “Nathu Rai, you have a comment to make?”

Jaya stood. “I have a report to give, Deva. I wish to report an attack against my person by employees of the KasiNawahr Consortium.”

Now he saw a roomful of shocked faces. A murmur rippled around the chamber. Nigudha Bhrasta’s eyes narrowed even further.

“An attack?” repeated the Deva. “When and where did this take place?”

“Yesterday at the front gate of the Sarojin Palace.”

Again, the eddy of stunned disbelief.

“I was attacked by four hooded men carrying illegal weapons. They beat me, they held me at knife point, they threatened my life and the life of my cousin, Ana.”

“Pardon, Nathu Rai,” said Bel Adivaram, “but if these men were masked, how do you know they were in the employ of the KNC?”

“They told me as much. Their object was to coerce me into voting pro-Consortium.”

His eyes pried at Nigudha Bhrasta’s closed face. Bhrasta gazed back coldly.

Adivaram scowled. “You mean to tell me, Nathu Rai, that KNC henchmen announced themselves?”

“I didn’t say they ‘announced’ themselves as KNC henchmen,” returned Jaya. “They claimed to be members of a Worker’s Coalition. An organization made up of KNC wharfers and other employees.”

“Worker’s Coalition,” repeated the Deva. “I’ve never heard of such an organization.”

“I think our friends in AGIM have,” Jaya said. “They also call themselves WoCoa.”

Taffik Pritam and his two boxmates both reacted strongly to that, sharing angry glances and pushing toward the edges of their seats.

“The Vadin Adivaram might also have had...a recent encounter with them,” Jaya added.

Adivaram reddened, then nodded reluctantly. “Yes. It sounds as if they’re the same people who...suggested my vote might also favor the Consortium.”

“You said nothing before the Council about these socalled suggestions,” observed the Deva.

Adivaram made a dismissive gesture. “Deva, the threats were so veiled, so ambiguous. I had never heard of the organization.”

“They’d heard of you,” said Jaya.

Adivaram paled.

The Deva turned to fix the KNC box with an intent gaze. “Have you ever heard of this Worker’s Coalition, Bhrastasama?”

The Board Chairman returned the gaze with equal intensity. “I had heard that something of that sort was being organized by the Wharfers Guild, but nothing indicated its members would resort to fanatical behavior. I assure you, Deva, we are just as shocked by this as you are.”

Jaya studied Bhrasta’s impassive face. If he was shocked, he hid it well.

“Have you notified the Sarngin, Nathu Rai?” asked Adivaram.

“He has,” offered the Vadin of the Sun Crescent, Rakesh Bithal. “We have one of the men in custody. I questioned him myself. A most stubborn individual. He would tell us nothing.”

Jaya, his eyes still on the KNC box, thought Duran Prakash went a shade paler but that certainly didn’t qualify as evidence of conspiracy.

“Such fortune!” exclaimed Adivaram, also watching the KNC contingent. “But, of course, the Sarngin of Kasi are unparalleled.”

“My friend, Ravi, captured the man. The Sarngin merely put him under arrest.”

“The Consortium officially abhors any acts of violence perpetrated by its employees,” interjected Bhrasta. “We will, of course, do whatever we can to counsel our wharfers to patience.”

He glanced away from the Varmana as if they had ceased to be of interest to him.

Duran Prakash stepped into the awkward silence. “May we now return to the issue of AGIM’s anarchy?”

“Autonomy,” corrected Sri Radha. “And I think, perhaps, this Worker’s Coalition deserves a bit more consideration.”

Prakash uttered a sound of sheer frustration. “Deva, this is obviously an issue that affects a broad spectrum of people. We can’t expect all of those people to behave reasonably in such an emotional situation. Surely, Holy One, you would not hold the Consortium responsible for the actions of a few distraught men.”

“No, we would not. However, it hasn’t been established that a few distraught men are the perpetrators. I suggest this issue not be addressed until the Sarngin of the Sun Crescent have had further opportunity to interrogate their prisoner.”

“I agree,” said the Vadin Bithal. “Let’s continue with the matter at hand. I have some questions for the Speakers.”

There was general consent to that and Jaya was the first one to key in a “yea” vote. He found himself watching the doorway as the session advanced, hoping Ravi would come with a message that the thug had confessed.

They were up to their eyes in fiscal reports, examining the KNC claim that AGIM autonomy posed undue financial hardship, when Ravi at last appeared in the vast doorway of the chamber, escorted by a Chamber courier. He came quietly to Jaya’s side and knelt to whisper in his ear.

“The news is not good,” he said.

Sri Radha interrupted the conversation. “Nathu Rai, does your man’s message bear on the attack made against you?”

Jaya looked to Ravi, who nodded.

“Then, share this information, if you would, please.”

Ravi straightened, glanced at his Nathu Rai and said, “Holy Deva, my Lord will have told you that the Sarngin captured one of the men who attacked him.”

“Actually, he told us you captured him, Ravidas.”

Ravi merely bowed his head again. “It matters very little who captured him now, Deva. He’s dead.”

“What?” Jaya’s exclamation was lost in the general uproar.

It took the Deva some moments to bring the meeting to order again. When she had done so, she motioned Ravi to the witness box.

“Continue with your report, please, Ravidas.  How did this man die?”

“He was poisoned.”

So much for coincidence, Jaya thought, and did not like the implied meaning in this sudden death.

“How did this happen?” the Vadin Bithal’s whisper was heard clearly in the silent chamber.

“It isn’t known yet, Vadin. The poison was contained in a capsule which was still in the man’s mouth when he was found.”

“Well, it sounds to me as if the fellow committed suicide!” exclaimed Kreti Twapar.

The Deva’s face was expressionless. “Ravidas, have the Sarngin found any evidence to suggest that this man’s death was indeed a suicide?”

“No, Deva. No conclusive evidence.”

“He was searched thoroughly when he was admitted to the cell block, Deva,” offered Rakesh Bithal. “There was no poison capsule found on him then.”

“You mean your Sarngin didn’t find one,” said Adivaram. “That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one to be found. Perhaps he had it in his mouth all along.”

“Then why,” asked Jaya, “why wouldn’t he have used it immediately?”

Adivaram opened his mouth to reply, but the Deva cut across him.

“Do they have any idea who he was?”

Ravi shook his head. “He carried no leaf and his cree had been...tampered with.”

“Tampered with?”

“His palm had been burned. According to the forensic Asvin, the scars were several years old.”

“That seems highly suspicious,” observed the Vadin Narudin.

“Such injuries among wharfers must be quite common,” said Duran Prakash. “I’m sure it’s just an unfortunate coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” repeated Jaya.

“Nathu Rai, you’re out of order,” said the Deva.

“May I speak?” asked Ravi from the witness box.

The Deva nodded.

“If this man were a wharfer, then he must carry cree. With his left palm damaged, the cree would have been placed in his right. It was not. Yet, he could not have gotten employment legally without that cree.”

“If the injury occurred after he began working for the Consortium-“ began Kreti Twapar.

“Then the Consortium would have been bound by law to see to it that the cree was replaced,” Rakesh Bithal finished. “It was not. The man’s lack of identifying cree is on record. He is—was—yevetha.”

The Deva nodded. “You seem to be suggesting that this man was a professional criminal.”

Bithal shrugged. “That is entirely possible. One thing is clear at this point: He couldn’t have been what he claimed to be...unless, of course, the Consortium is hiring yevetha illegally.”

“Or unless,” said Nigudha Bhrasta, his eyes on Bithal, “he was hired by the Worker’s Coalition to pursue their... questionable goals.”

The Deva sat back and clasped her hands before her in her lap. “This changes the complexion of the situation significantly. I recommend that this Council receive a full report on this matter from the Sarngin of the Sun Crescent. Immediately.” She scanned the faces of the Council. “Do we have consensus?”

The Varmana reached for their consoles to indicate “yea” or “nay.” Radha watched the votes register on her own console. Amid the gold lights that signaled agreement, the cluster of red ones was glaring.

“Majority carries,” announced the Deva, “but I would like to know why there is disagreement. Do any of the nay-sayers wish to discuss this?”

There was a moment of silence, then Kreti Twapar cleared his throat. “It simply seemed to me that an added expenditure of time and energy when we’re already involved in an undertaking of this magnitude would be overwhelming. In the scheme of things, wouldn’t we do just as well to wait until the Sarngin issue a report to our noble associate?” He nodded toward Rakesh Bithal. “He could then tender it to a review council—I would gladly volunteer for such, and would recommend Bel Adivaram, since he is our senior Vadin.”

“Why shouldn’t I tender my report directly to the Vrinda Varma?” asked Bithal quietly.

Twapar wheezed. “Pardon, Vadin, but it appears either a suicide or a murder has occurred in the headquarters of your own District. Certainly it would not be proper for you to head any investigation into it.”

Bithal’s dark skin flushed, but he held his tongue.

“I think perhaps the Lord Twapar is correct,” said Bel Adivaram. “That way the matter would be in the hands of objective parties and would not consume valuable Council time.”

“Pardon me,” said Sri Elui, “but this is a most grave matter. Does it seem suspicious to no one else that, in the midst of these negotiations with AGIM and the Consortium, the Saroj is attacked by an employee of the KNC—pardon, an alleged employee—who then either commits suicide or is murdered before he can speak? My dear friends, if this man were, indeed, a wharfer intent on survival, why would he kill himself? Why would he be killed?”

He shook his head, the bells in his long silver braids whispering across his shoulders. “It surely behooves us to search into this matter. A threat to the Saroj is a threat to our government. If it was made by desperate and ignorant men, as Speaker Prakash suggests, that is tragic. But if it was made by other than a simple group of activists...” He left the thought unfinished.

“Such an insinuation-“ began Prakash, then choked off whatever he’d been going to say as Bhrasta’s hand descended onto his forearm.

“I insinuate nothing,” said the old Dandin mildly. “I am merely determined that we should know the truth.”

In the silence that followed, Kreti Twapar signaled and was recognized. “I agree whole-heartedly with my noble colleague. We must certainly know the truth. I would like to recommend that the Vadin Bithal be required to lay a full report before our senior Vadin immediately.”

The Deva looked at him steadily for a moment then said, “Let me amend the recommendation: A report is to be submitted directly to the Inner Circle by Vadin Bithal. Immediately. Discussion?”

“Deva,” said Bel Adivaram, quietly, “I have also been contacted by this WoCoa. I feel that I have a...personal interest in this development. I would welcome a chance to investigate it.”

“It is precisely because of your personal interest, Bel, that you should not investigate it,” Radha returned reasonably. She scanned the Council chamber. “Is there further discussion? A counter proposal?”

There was none.

“Then the recommendation stands: A report shall be tendered to the Inner Circle immediately. Consensus?” The Deva watched the lights on her console wink on. “So be it. The Inner Circle will meet as soon as the report is available.”

She recorded the consensus with her light pen, then gestured for Ravi to step down from the witness box and leave them. When he had gone she favored the assemblage with an assessing gaze that fell, at last, to her folded hands.

“I have, myself, a rather disturbing announcement to make,” she said. “We were expecting to be able to bring Rokh Nadim before this Council in the very near future. However, his arrival is now in question. Rokh Nadim seems to have disappeared.”

In the hushed wake of that lightning strike, the Deva glanced up at Taffik Pritam who sat silently in the AGIM box flanked by two younger Guilders.

Nigudha Bhrasta chuckled.

“You have some comment, Bhrasta-sama?” asked Radha.

He shrugged. “Only that a coward is as a coward does.”

Pritam started to rise, but was restrained by one of the younger men, who whispered something in his ear. He reseated himself, glaring at Bhrasta.

The Deva took a moment to arrange her robes about her.

“This situation has become quite convoluted,” she said at last. “We are dealing with a matter which will affect the lives of millions. There is much at stake. There are allegations of coercion leveled at a group connected to the Consortium, and I believe there is enough evidence to warrant an investigation of those allegations. The lives of our colleagues and the members of the Guild’s guiding council are too precious to endanger by prolonging consultation. I therefore recommend that this entire matter of AGIM independence be remanded to the Inner Circle for closed consultation and resolution.”

There was relief in some faces, dismay in others, but it mattered little what the general members of the Vrinda Varma thought now. By laying it at the door of the Nine, Radha had effectively excluded the other Varmana from the discussion.

The members of the Circle sent their votes to the Deva’s console. That it was unanimous was evident from the lack of subsequent discussion. Radha then set the next meeting of the Vrinda Varma for three days hence. The agenda for the meeting was summarily discussed and agreed upon.

Back to normal business then, Jaya thought as he rose to leave. New laws to enact, old ones to re-interpret, disputes to settle—though none so big as this one.

His console lit up, making him glance down at the screen. “Stay, please,” it said.

He glanced at Radha who made a small gesture with her hand. He stayed until the hall had cleared of all but the nine members of the Inner Circle. Sri Radha approached him herself.

“You will be available to us, Nathu Rai?” she asked.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

She was studying him intently. “Your...your cousin, Nathu Rai, is Avasan.”

“Yes.” He felt his stomach tighten.

“Duran Prakash suggested to me before session that he thought that prejudiced you.”

Jaya relaxed. “That no longer bears on the consultation, does it?”

“No, but do you think it bears on the attack? Prejudice against Avasans is unfortunately common on Mehtar. Prejudice against the Genda Sita-“

Jaya felt exactly as if someone was squeezing his throat. “What...makes you think Ana’s Genda, Deva? Certainly, she’s fair, but-”

“I noted at the Mesha Festival that her palms were unusually pale compared to the tone of her skin. It occurred to me that what little color she has may be the kiss of Mitras, rather than natural pigmentation. On Avasa, race is not the issue it has been here. There were many Genda Sita among the original colonists. Mining was one of the few types of work they were permitted to do on Mehtar once upon a time. I speak of age old prejudice, Jaya. It is alien to me and meaningless to me, except in that it may mean much to others.”

“I don’t think Ana is Genda, Deva. I think she’s just very fair.”

He caught himself, remembering, in a flash of heat, exactly how fair. He had seen the milky white of her breast—had touched it—but the sun never had. Did it matter? Did it change how he felt? Certainly, it had not curbed his desire. He made an abrupt gesture, deflecting the thought.

“I’m not blind to the possibility that my...relationship with an Avasan could cause ill feelings. Race might bear on the attack if the attackers were what they claimed to be.”

“You forget, Nathu Rai, bigotry isn’t solely the province of the poor. Ignorance has a place among the well-educated and powerful, as well. It had occurred to me that Ana, being Avasan and so close to a member of the Vrinda Varma, might be the target of the attack rather than yourself. Then, maybe it was only intended to look that way. You said they threatened her life. You indicated they knew of her. Did they see her in the car?”

Jaya shook his head. “No, Deva. They couldn’t have. It has opaque glass. I gave Ana away. They mentioned her and when I reacted, they realized she was with me.”

“Then we must assume you were the target and it that coercion was the aim.” She put a hand on his arm. “We will call you, your cousin, and Ravi to testify. Until then, may God watch over you.”

The interview at an end, the Deva Radha moved away as if gliding on ice.

oOo

“Tara be praised! You’re here, and not out getting into trouble!”

Ana looked up from her reader and grimaced. “I was afraid to go out.”

Jaya feigned astonishment. “You? Afraid? I’ve heard rumors of your exploits on Avasa. You can’t tell me there’s anything on Mehtar more fear-inspiring than a full grown—what did you call it?—a chandi cat.”

“There are Mehtarans on Mehtar. The hordes of Niraya hell are on Mehtar.”

Jaya didn’t laugh; in his more cynical moments, he’d had similar thoughts. He crossed the study to sit opposite her at the window. “Ana, that’s superstitious nonsense.”

“I was being facetious.” Ana looked down at the reader, marked her place with the press of a key and put the little machine down on the window seat. “What do you think the Worker’s Coalition really is?” she asked.

“I’m not sure what to think.”

She pinned him with her eyes. “What does your heart say? What does your spirit tell you?”

“My...intuition tells me the Consortium is involved on some level. At the very least, Nigudha Bhrasta was silently cheering today when I told them about the attack. At the worst...?” He shrugged.

Ana’s gaze wandered outside. “This place is so confusing. So beautiful. So ugly.”

She turned her head to look at him and ambushed his eyes. He pulled them away, not wanting her to read them or know what he’d been thinking just then.

“Life on Avasa is hard,” she told him. “There’s always a sand blow or a cave-in or a dead-end drill. People get hurt. People die. But they die cleanly. They don’t die by politics.”

“They do now. Or at least they will if this situation continues.”

“I wonder if my father will be the first casualty.”

At the mention of her father, Jaya glanced away.

She caught the gesture and pounced on it. “What? What have you heard? What’s happened?”

He raised his hands. “Ana, I can’t. I can’t discuss-“

She was on her feet. “Damn you, Sarojin! This is my father, not some abstract political cipher!”

“What about honor?” he asked, feeling heat. “What about fidelity? Are those just abstract spiritual ciphers? What about my responsibility to the Vrinda Varma? Am I supposed to overlook that because you demand it?”

Ana stared at him, shame clear on her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize what I was asking.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then glanced away. “It’s all right. I understand what this means to you, believe me.”

She made an indecisive gesture. “I can always go to cousin Taffik.”

“No. No, you can’t. Ana, you can’t be linked to AGIM. That would throw both of us into the fire.”

“Then what can I do?”

The tone of her voice, the look in her eyes, brought swift empathy and opened a flood gate on memories he thought he’d safely dammed. Memories of waiting, helplessly, for hit and run death to complete its task; to leave the House Sarojin without its head, to turn his mother into a cynical stranger, to thrust him into a life of political significance.

“I’ll have Ravi contact Pritam. We’ll find out what’s going on, Ana. I promise you.”

She shook her head, subsided into her chair. “I ask too much.”

“No, you don’t. I sometimes imagine that you do.”

His eyes were drawn to her hands, draped loosely over the arms of the chair. He noticed, probably not for the first time, how white were the moons of her fingernails in contrast to the pale gold of her skin.

She caught him staring, tucked her hands into her lap. “What?” she asked. Her pale eyes held both bemusement and suspicion.

The question pressed at his lips, willing him to ask. He found, within himself, an innocent enough way to ask it.

“The Deva Radha drew me aside after the assembly today to ask about the attack on us. She...asked me if I thought it might be racially motivated—at least in part.”

Ana shrugged. “I’m Avasan.”

“That wasn’t what she meant. She thought perhaps some people who care about such things had gotten the idea that you were Genda Sita. She pointed out to me that many of the original Avasan colonists were.”

Ana neither replied nor reacted. Instead, she merely watched him watching her and waited. He opened his mouth to frame the words.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I have Genda Sita blood. There are probably very few Avasans who don’t. It is simply more evident in some of us than in others. Does it matter?”

Does it matter? In what context was she asking that question? In what context was he to answer it?

“It shouldn’t,” he said.

“Excuse me, Jaya Rai.” Ari peeked cautiously around the tall, carved door of the study. “There is a Sarngin to see you. A Zone Commander Gar.”

Jaya shot Ana a significant glance. “Please send him in, Ari.”

Ari nodded. “I’ll bring a tray.”

“You,” Jaya told Ana, “go into the next room.”

“I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t trust him, Ana. If he sees you here, he just might conclude that you’re my informant.”

“If he sees the color of my skin, you mean.”

The words froze him. “Go.”

“Jaya-“

“A Kasian Sarngin is going to think it very peculiar that a young Rani is included in a discussion of dalalis, thieves, and corruption. Go.” He gestured toward the door to the Court Parlor.

Ana moved quickly, scooting into the next room and concealing herself behind the slightly ajar door. When Mall Gar had entered and presented himself to Jaya, she dared peek around the slab of carved wood. The Zone Commander’s back was toward her, so she allowed herself the luxury of watching as well as listening.

“You’re out of uniform, Commander,” observed Jaya, seating him.

“Even the Sarngin may take days off, Nathu Rai. I’m...not here in an official capacity.”

“Then what may I do for you, Gar-sama?”

Even from her oblique angle, Anala could tell the Zone Commander was ill at ease. Beneath his leather jacket, a pry-rod straight back spoke of great discomfort.

“I am not...pleased to be here, Nathu Rai. I was disturbed by your visit. It raised my curiosity. No, it did more than that. It raised suspicion. I talked to some of the rookie patrolmen on the Warrows. I asked if they had noticed an upsurge in the number of Avasan yevetha they were finding. Some said ‘yes,’ some said ‘no.’ I asked if they had been given specific orders about where any yevetha were to be taken. Again, some said ‘yes’ and some ‘no.’” 

Jaya sat forward, not bothering to hide his interest. “And those who said ‘yes?’”

“Told different stories. A few had been ordered by their immediate superior. A few had been ordered by someone further up the chain of command. Most had it suggested to them that a certain dalali was to be favored. None have admitted to being paid for their trouble...yet. But two young patrolmen who resisted the idea of favoring a particular business with their yevetha claimed that an unfamiliar gentleman approached them while they were on patrol and put to them a deal. He would provide them with the location of yevetha and they would take them to the BadanDevaki no matter where they were found. The young men asked what should inspire them to do this and a sum of money was named. Their Patrol Chief approached them the next day and made a suggestion to them that it might be worth their while to favor the Badan-Devaki.”

“They didn’t report him?”

Gar shook his head, his lips pursed. “No, Nathu Rai. These were barely men—boys. Neither had gotten good marks in academy. Both were on probation for that reason. A Patrol Chief can be very intimidating when he holds your career in his hands.”

Commander Gar paused and studied his own hands for a moment. “I spoke with some of the Patrol Chiefs. Their stories were also inconsistent. Some denied having said what their men claimed they had, others-“ He shrugged. “But there was a common thread. The names of Division Chiefs Varaza and Nastan kept coming up—also that of a Patrol Chief named Ranjit.”

“Varaza,” repeated Jaya. “Yes. He seemed...unsettled by my visit.”

Gar shifted in his seat—his leathers voiced a protesting creak. “There is more. I heard about the attack on you. In view of your visit—what I had discovered—I wondered if the two things might not be connected. I went to the Sun Crescent Headquarters intending to visit the prisoner myself. He was dead when I arrived. Just. I was there, Nathu Rai, when the forensics team removed the poison ampoule from his mouth.”

“Suicide?”

Gar’s lips twitched. “That was suggested as a possibility by the Asvin in attendance, but he said it was by no means certain. The ampoule was of a soft, gelatinous substance. It was caught on one tooth.” He paused again, then said, “You ask if it was suicide. I think not. The guards I interviewed claimed to have searched the man thoroughly and found nothing on his person. The man died while eating his dinner, Nathu Rai. I don’t think he took that capsule voluntarily. I think it was in his food.”

Jaya stood and paced toward the hearth. He could just see Ana behind the door, listening. Not wanting to give her away, he turned his face toward the fire.

“There is yet more,” said Gar. He sounded like a man who had just bitten into a sour fruit. “Division Chief Varaza paid a visit to the Sun Crescent Headquarters less than an hour before the time of the prisoner’s death.”

Jaya returned to his chair. “He visited the prisoner?”

Gar shook his head. “That is not a matter of record, but he was seen entering the cell block by at least two patrolmen.”

“Are visits to the cell block normally a matter of record?”

Commander Gar looked as if the fruit had become suddenly more sour. “Normally, yes.”

Jaya’s mind raced. Varaza. If Varaza was the one who planted poison in the thug’s food...

“It is a hard thing for me to accept, Nathu Rai, that such corruption has seeped into the ranks of the Sarngin. That a man—even such a man as that—should be murdered for the sake of petty greed.”

Jaya glanced up at the Commander’s face. Did he dare trust him—let him in on the larger implications of this? Or did he let him believe that it was as simple as that? He shifted his eyes from the brooding Gar to Ana, half-hidden behind the Parlor door.

She nodded. Trust him, her eyes said.

“The greed may be a good deal more than petty, Commander,” Jaya said. “You’re assuming I was attacked because I inquired into the corrupt dealings of some Sarngin officers and their men. I imagine you suspect Varaza of master-minding that attack.”

Gar nodded.

“Are you familiar with the dispute between the Avasan Miner’s Guild and the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium?”

“One hears and reads of nothing else.”

“As a member of the Vrinda Varma, I was to vote on that issue. As a Sarojin, my vote carries...an undue amount of weight. I suspect that someone would have liked to influence that vote.”

“The Consortium?”

Jaya nodded. “A possibility.”

“But you speak in the past tense. You were to vote-“

“The case has been remanded to the Inner Circle. I’m no longer a deciding factor.”

Gar’s brows disappeared under over-hanging fringe of dark hair. “Are you not? Let us assume that the attack on you was motivated by the desire to affect your vote. Did it?”

“No.”

“The report states that these men claimed to be KNC wharfers in fear of being let go—members of a Worker’s Coalition. Do you believe that?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve...received some pressure from another quarter. From someone I know, without doubt, is connected at a high level to the KNC.”

“Can we assume this person is aware of your suspicions?”

Jaya recalled the expression on Duran Prakash’s face when he’d mentioned the KNC in the same breath with the word “attack.” He nodded. “I think we can assume that.”

“Can we not also assume that your testimony is critical to proving coercion?”

Jaya nodded again.

“And that a substantiated charge of coercion would end or severely damage the Consortium’s political aspirations?”

The implications sat in Jaya’s mind like huge cold blocks of stone. It had never occurred to him that the Consortium’s aspirations were anything more than big business.

“You are very much a deciding factor, Nathu Rai—and very much in danger, if all this is so. But I wonder: Are these two things linked, or is Varaza simply a man of varied interests?”

oOo

“Do you know what this is?” Kareen Devaki shook her fist in Ashur Badan’s face, a chain dangling from her fingers.

“Off-hand, I’d say it’s a necklace. Gold, by the look of it.”

Kareen tossed the chain down on her partner’s highly polished desk. It glinted in the light of the chandelier hanging just overhead. “Look at it. Closely.”

“Ah!” he said. “Yes, it’s leaf isn’t it? The old etched style. We see enough of that around here, I’d say, not to get so excited about it.”

“You fat toad,” hissed Devaki. “Read it!”

Frowning, Badan picked up the delicately incised medallion and peered at it. “Anala Nadim—Onan. Dated: 5523-Pausha-9. ...Nadim,” he repeated. His eyes met Devaki’s. “You don’t think-“

“I most certainly do think. Nadim is not a common name—except in Onan.”

“Kareen, you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Am I?” She pointed to the leaf. “Don’t you think we’d better find out? We’ll have to access the census records.”

Ashur Badan’s face was suddenly less jovial than usual. “You know what he’ll say.”

“Oh, he’ll say we’re every kind of idiot known to God. He’ll say we’ve let an incredible opportunity slip through our fingers. And it’s all thanks to that idiot Rishi. He had this for the better part of a week before he turned it over to us. This may be the end of everything, Ashur.”

Badan shrugged. “You exaggerate. Our network is too valuable to him. He’s not likely to toss it aside when things are going so well. He’s too greedy and he enjoys our... arrangement. Besides, how could we have known? Ah, we still don’t know! She might not be any relation to Rokh Nadim at all.”

“Or she might be in his immediate family. We need to let him know, Ashur. Now.”

“Do we? Why can’t we exploit this thing ourselves? Why not use it to retrieve our autonomy?”

“Why not? We’re not big players in this game, Ashur. We’re mice. Attractive, expedient, useful mice.” She leaned across her partner’s desk. “What if we try and fail? It’s not just him we’d have to face. Remember that. This is not a game for small players anymore.”

Ashur nearly pouted. “It was.”

“Was, was—I’m talking about what is. We will not be let go easily. We are deeper in this every day and with this-“ She snatched the id from his fingers. “With this, we are in over both our heads.”

Ashur Badan shuffled the flimsies on his desk. “All right. I concede that an attempt to get out from under would probably...”

“Kill us?”

He glanced at her uneasily. “You don’t think he’d-“

Devaki laughed brittley. “Him? No, not him. But his puppet-masters might. Don’t judge others by yourself, Ashur. You wouldn’t kill someone for the sake of maintaining our little kingdom, but they are different people playing in a different dimension and I suspect they have an Empire at stake.”

oOo

“Jaya?”

Jaya barely glanced up from the buffet at which he filled his plate. “Ah, mother! It’s been ages.”

“It’s been two days,” said the Rani, moving to pour herself a cup of channa. She scooped a segmented asok from the buffet and put it on a plate. “And in two days, you have managed to turn this house completely upside down. When I got home last night I found armed guards at every entrance, men patrolling the grounds and a team of journalists preparing to storm the front gates. Can you explain any of this?”

Jaya turned to look at her and she found her hands could no longer hold her plate and cup. She put down the channa with a clatter, spilling it. Asok wedges rolled onto the sideboard.

“What happened to your face?”

“The same thing that happened to my ribs—a little bit of campaigning on the part of...some people in favor of crushing AGIM.”

“What?” The Rani’s breath stopped in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“More than I should. Excuse me.” He literally fled into the gardens.

Melantha Sarojin stared after him. She was at the point of giving pursuit when Jivinta Mina entered the room.

“Well, good afternoon,” said the older woman dryly. “You’ve been conspicuously absent. Sleeping late or were you...out?”

“I was visiting my family in Mohan. Can you tell me what’s been going on around here? What happened to Jaya?”

Mina raised her brows. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He mumbled something about a campaign against AGIM and then said he was telling me more than he should. What is going on?”

“Maybe you should ask that fine man-friend of yours.”

The Rani’s brow furrowed. “Duran? What do Jaya’s injuries have to do with Duran?”

Mina shrugged. “Maybe nothing, maybe everything. But he does have an interest in Jaya’s vote.”

“So does AGIM. So, probably do the Avasans living under our roof.”

“Neither AGIM nor the Avasans living under our roof have dispatched a clutch of thugs to lobby the House Sarojin.” Mina shrugged again and moved to sit at the dining table. “But, thankfully, lobbying—or threats—are futile now. Jaya’s vote no longer figures in it.”

“What does that mean?” Melantha gathered her channa and fruit and moved to the table.

“The Deva Radha has relieved the Vrinda Varma of the issue.”

Melantha felt weak with relief. “Then Jaya’s involvement with this thing is at an end.”

Mina made a moue with her lips. “Well, except for the small matter of the threats made to his life.”

“Surely the Sarngin can handle that.”

“The Sarngin!” snorted Mina disparagingly. “They’ve already managed to lose the one suspect they had in custody. I wouldn’t expect too much of them, if I were you.”

“How does one lose a suspect?”

“In this case, death by poisoning. Ah, but I’ve said too much.” Mina smiled into the Rani’s face. “The biscuits are very good, Melantha. You must try one.”

oOo

“So. He will testify.”

Duran Prakash snorted. “Of course he will testify. And we have no way to stop him—short of killing him, that is. In view of everything that’s happened, that would be exceptionally stupid.”

“Not if it’s done correctly.” Nigudha Bhrasta extracted a jellied leaf from the appetizer tray and put it into his mouth, obviously savoring the minty flavor.

Prakash bared his teeth in nothing like a smile. “Do you trust any of our ‘associates’ to do anything correctly? Besides which, any action against the Saroj would be immediately connected with us.”

“Not necessarily.” There was a flash of light from the wall monitor as it came to life. “It’s the server.”

They discussed inconsequential things until the domestic had served them and left. Then, Prakash’s host picked up the thread of their previous conversation along with a forkful of seafood.

“Our young Lord has been pursuing certain other unhealthy avenues of curiosity. He seems to have noticed an upsurge in the number of muggings in the Port Zone that target Avasan tourists. He also noticed that those tourists are then subject to immediate arrest by our fine Sarngin.”

Prakash’s eyes widened. “Sarojin made that connection?”

He was favored with a grim smile. “You underestimate him, Duran. He is Bhaktasu Sarojin’s son, after all.”

“Hmm. But he is also Melantha Sarojin’s son. With her predilection for the trivial and shallow-“

“I thought the beautiful Rani had quite captured your heart. Shallow, you call her?”

Prakash snorted indelicately. “She’s captured only my lust, my friend. She has enough depth to satisfy that, if only she was willing.”

“Tsk. Still not admitted to the Sacred Chamber, eh?”

“No, but at the door. You are familiar with the Bogar rites?”

“Vaguely. I have nowhere near the...fascination with it that some do. You are considered a master, are you not?”

“I am. I find the satisfied female is willing to express gratitude if a rite is well-performed. And I do perform them well.”

“Ah, and the Rani was grateful for your performance.”

“Oh, yes. But not grateful enough. Still, I’ve gotten farther than any of her previous suitors. I interviewed them, you know. They all lied terribly.”

His companion chewed thoughtfully. “Yes, you are in a most convenient position with regards to the Rani. The barometer of her fear.”

“Fear?”

“For her son’s wellbeing.”

“She sold her KNC holdings. I’m not certain whether it was out of fear for her son or fear of him.”

“Oh, I think it’s fear for her son that motivates the Rani. The young mahesa is sticking his pristine horns into the corrupt business of Niraya-jinn. His mother might be convinced to warn him away from such dangerous curiosity. I doubt she would care how many Avasan yevetha are manufactured in Kasi.”

“And if she fails to dissuade him?”

“Then we will at least have put in the minds of those closest to Sarojin’s whelp the idea that the threat against him is from a different quarter altogether. The Worker’s Coalition is perhaps a little to close to our front door for comfort.”

“Ah. Sarojin dies and a handful of corrupt Sarngin are suspect. But won’t that trail eventually lead to our door as well?”

“What trail? Dead men don’t leave trails, and dishonored men tend to become dead men. The Sarngin are a proud lot. Even the crooked ones.”

“What if the dalali is implicated?”

“There are hundreds of dalalis in the provinces, Duran. One will not be missed.”

“The trail does not end with the dalali,” Prakash observed.

“Our associate has been discreet. To a fault. A good thing—he is not expendable. The trail will end with the dalali.

“You wish me to warn the Rani that her son may be in danger as a result of his poking and prodding?”

“Certainly. You are her lover.”

“I am her pleasure tool. I doubt love enters into it. But how am I, as Consortium Speaker, to know of this other business?”

He cringed as the shell of a resistant mollusk shattered in his companion’s hands.

“You hear things, don’t you? You’re a legal expert. You have connections.”

Prakash frowned. “I wouldn’t want to raise her suspicions. She’s shallow, not stupid. I-“ He broke off and favored Nigudha Bhrasta with a slow, beatific smile. “I’ll see her tonight,” he said. “Yes...I think I know how to handle this. I’ll take care of it.”