by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 8 —

  In which Jaya and Ravi deliver an important message and Ana pays a visit to the Temple. 

oOo

The message sat heavily in the inner pocket of his coat. He felt it there all during the invocation, barely remembering to murmur “Ya, Ramji” at the appropriate times. He listened drowsily to the opening comments of the Dandin, Sri Elui, rousing himself only when the Deva Radha raised the Branch of Oration.

She lifted the Branch from her console and turned it absently between her fingers as she spoke. “We have had several days to look over the petitions brought before us by the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium and the Avasan Guild of Independent Miners. You have no doubt begun to form opinions about the ethics of this situation and the spiritual and moral issues involved. Now is the time to voice those opinions.”

She glanced around the chamber, finally singling out Jaya. She held out the Branch. “Nathu Rai Sarojin, what principles do you see involved?”

Jaya was struck by swift dread. Why had she come to him first? Did she intuit something about his manner; had she heard something of Ana? He shook himself free of the paranoia. That line of thought was pointless. He had, in any event, done much thinking in anticipation of that question. It was necessary to answer honestly, but without bias. Necessary and difficult.

He took the Branch from the courier who brought it to him and folded his hands around the stem, ordering his thoughts. Two seats to his right, Bel Adivaram snickered, and Jaya could only assume it was because this new sober mien did not at all suit him in the Vadin’s eyes. It was also difficult, the Lord Prince of Kasi found, to feel truly and fully mature in the presence of peers who had the advantage of age and experience. He was nearly thirty years of age and they still looked at him and saw a frivolous youth.

Jaya marshaled his thoughts. “Dignity,” he said. “Freedom, independence of thought, the right to pursue a livelihood. The right to...an identity. These are the principles I see that must inform this discussion. Honesty is at issue here, as well. Trust and trustworthiness, generosity, simple courtesy. Balance and moderation.”

At the Deva’s nod, Jaya passed the Branch of Oration to his right. The Dandin beside him spoke of justice and equity and greed before passing it on to Bel Adivaram.

“Greed is certainly a factor,” Adivaram said. “And ingratitude. Equity and justice must be the guiding factors in our adjudication.”

So it went—each of the twenty-seven members of the Vrinda Varma speaking in turn. Once the Principles of Justice had been compiled, consultation began, the order of oration now being reversed. The eldest Dandin, Sri Elui, began by expressing his disappointment that the Consortium thought so little of human rights that they would try to bind their fellow men and women to economic stagnation.

A senior Lord, Vivekand, expressed similar sentiments, adding that the situation transcended politics or economics.

“I feel it is critical that we bear the human values at stake here constantly in mind,” he concluded.

The first of the Vadin to orate was old Narudin, who spoke, as was worthy of a Vadin, of due process and protocols and legal precedent. He suggested the KNC’s current policies for dealing with AGIM be reviewed.

The sentiments expressed by the next Dandin speaker, a young Deva, though framed in more metaphysical terms, were the same, as were those of the next series of Varmana—Lord, Vadin and Holy Ones alike. Many only nodded or murmured “I concur” when the Branch passed into their hands. Two young Vadin abstained from comment.

So it was that Kreti Twapar’s oration came as a complete surprise to the entire assemblage. He took up the Branch and held it for a moment, watching it tremble in his hands. He cleared his throat no less than four times and finally managed to raise his eyes to the assembled Varmana. Clearing his throat a fifth time, he said, “I agree with this Council about the principles here involved, but I don’t—I mean, that is, I have to...I’m forced to disagree with their application. I do not see the Consortium’s demands—that is, their requests—as excessive. No, I quite agree with their attempts to protect the Mehtaran economy. I empathize with-with their concern for their own resources. I don’t feel it unreasonable for the KNC to wish to control the flow of goods to and from the Avasan mines. Nor do I feel it is unreasonable to expect that the Guild should...should show special consideration to the Consortium. It is by the largesse of the Consortium that they have flourished on Avasa in the first place.”

The Lord Twapar warmed to his subject, developing a sense of drama. “Surely,” he said with doleful passion, “they cannot have forgotten that their forebears traveled to Avasa on KNC vessels or that it was the KNC that supplied them grain to plant and food to eat until their crops were selfsupporting. Or that every last peg and pot of mining equipment was imported under the auspices of that same organization. The Guildsmen owe the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium much. Indeed, I am saddened that they choose such a treacherous way of repaying the kindness and generosity of a benefactor.”

He closed his mouth suddenly, oration apparently at an end, and sweated.

In the silence that followed the monologue, Jaya stared at Kreti Twapar. So did nearly every other Varmana present, except the nine Holy Ones, who never stared. All, Jaya wagered, were wondering what strong emotions had driven the timid but opinionated old Lord to such outspokenness.

Twapar, evidently unnerved at being the object of intense scrutiny, quailed and silently passed Oration to Bel Adivaram.

The Vadin scowled. “I find myself, for once, in agreement with Lord Twapar. We must not let our emotions run away with us. Freedom and justice and humanity are all mighty principles, but we must not be misled into seeing oppression where there is none, or label as oppressed a group of people who wield perhaps more power than we suppose. I urge this Council to caution. It is clear to me that the Avasan Guild could exert a strangle-hold on the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium that would ruin its fortunes. Their conception of free enterprise could easily become blackmail.”

Jaya exhaled, wondering what he was missing. Were there elements here he was failing to comprehend? Was he letting his emotions run away with him? Was he biased against the Consortium because he had come to think of the Guild in terms of Anala Nadim and the Consortium in terms of Duran Prakash? Was he incapable of objectivity?

He listened very hard to the consultation after that, not offering much comment and taking copious notes.

It was a long session. Consensus evaded them. Kreti Twapar doggedly insisted on interpreting the Consortium’s position as self-defense and AGIM’s as treachery, and Bel Adivaram stolidly insisted he could be right. The two abstaining Vadin joined them, and a small but vociferous core of concord formed.

It was generally agreed that the Safety Council proposed by AGIM was a good idea, but it was not agreed that the Vrinda Varma should oversee it. It was generally agreed that an independent Quality Control would be ideal, but it was advanced, on the other hand, that it was prejudicial to imply that the quality control measures of the Consortium were insufficient or biased.

Late in the session, Duran Prakash and Taffik Pritam were called in to clarify a few points. There were words exchanged between the two, at which point the Deva intervened and sent Pritam-sama from the chamber until the Varmana should be done with the KNC Speaker. Both men received stern warnings about their behavior.

Prakash was the soul of rationality and discretion after that. He even sympathized with the Guilders. Of course they wanted their freedom. Of course they wanted their own mines, their own lands. That was why the Consortium document included a provision for the Independents to be able to purchase the properties they were currently mining, farming, and living on. Naturally, the KNC couldn’t be expected to sell the properties to its avowed enemies, so only those miners and settlers who were not affiliated with AGIM would be considered for ownership.

The Deva reminded Prakash-sama that KNC ownership of Avasan mining concerns had not been determined, and Prakash-sama reminded the Deva that the KNC had, after all, bank-rolled the initial exploration of the planet, paving the way for settlement.

Later, given a summation of Prakash’s commentary, Taffik Pritam was outraged. “We reject the idea that we must buy our properties from the KNC!” he exploded. “We have already paid for our holdings on Avasa in blood. Our families homesteaded that land. We have sweated and starved and died for it—carved our graves out of its rock. And now they would have us pay a second time? It is too much, Noble Ones. It is too much.”

The Deva excused Pritam-sama at the conclusion of his remarks, then asked for further consultation. There was little of that. The Vrinda Varma seemed to be at an impasse. There was no way to even attempt to negotiate compromises—Taffik Pritam was not authorized to make command decisions for AGIM. Only one man had been granted that right and he was in hiding on Avasa.

“I don’t see how we are to resolve this issue,” said Bel Adivaram at the end of a fruitless round of commentary, “without speaking face to face with Rokh Nadim. I feel we must request— no demand—his presence here. I myself will offer a team of Sarngin from my Zone to protect him. There are no better forces anywhere.”

“Oh, but there are,” said the Lord Mandal. “There are much better forces at our disposal.” His eyes quickly picked out the other members of the Inner Circle, then returned to rest on the Deva, who was its Head.

She nodded. “What say the members of the Inner Circle?” she asked. “Shall we assign the Balin?”

“Surely that’s not necessary,” objected Vadin Adivaram mildly, amid the rustle of commentary that question evoked. “The forces under my command—under the command of any Vadin—should be sufficient. Under the circumstances-“

“I believe the circumstances may warrant the special disciplines of the Balin.”

“The Sarngin are well-trained,” offered one of the younger Vadin, defensively.

“Vadin Pangum, it is not a matter of training. It is a matter of doctrine. The Balin have the discipline of Orders. Do you suggest mere military training is superior or equal to that?”

The Vadin reddened. “No, Holy One. I would never suggest that. By all means, if the Circle feels this Rokh Nadim’s safety warrants the use of the Balin-“

Sri Radha turned back to the Circle. “I put it to the vote. Shall we assign a team of Balin to Nadim-sama’s escort?”

They nodded, each in turn—the two remaining Dandin, the three Vadin, the three Vasin. The last of these, Kreti Twapar, hesitated momentarily and seemed to consider declining, but in the end he, too, nodded his assent. It was unanimous: Rokh Nadim would be escorted to Mehtar by a contingent of Balin—the select Guard of the Inner Circle.

When the session closed, Jaya went quickly to where his coach waited in the circular court central to the Asra Complex. Ravi was already waiting for him there.

“Pritam is registered at the Inn of the Golden Lota,” Ravi reported as he helped his Nathu Rai out of his chamber robes. “Room 4-75.”

Jaya glanced down the broad, flowered avenue that led from the Complex. He could see the artistically lit facade of the Lota from here. This was luck. The Inn had one of the finest restaurants in all Kasi and he dined there often enough after Varma sessions to be considered a regular; his appearance tonight would cause no speculation. 

“We’ll walk,” he said and glanced up at the driver’s box. “Join us, Kena?”

“No, sir!” said Kenadas in his usual tone of scandalized reproach. “I’ll go to the Coach House, Nathu Rai, as is my habit.”

Jaya chuckled. Someday Kenadas would break down and dare to cross the bounds of caste, if for no other reason than that his curiosity would get the better of him.

Their robes stowed in the coach, Jaya and Ravi strolled to the Inn of the Golden Lota where they were seated in the opulent dining room with great ceremony and where the patrons whispered to each other about how scandalous it was for the young Nathu Rai to bring his das to table with him. They ordered their meal, then Jaya excused himself to go to the men’s grooming salon, leaving his companion to peruse the dessert menu.

The salon was accessed by a broad, subtly lit hall that gave onto the lift-well at its nether end. A cross-corridor there led right, to the lobby, and left, to the back firestair. This was a fortunate arrangement. What was not so fortunate was that when Jaya reached the hall, a group of gentlemen of his acquaintance was clustered about the salon entrance chatting. He could not get to the lift-well without drawing their notice.

In fact, he realized, they’d noticed him the moment he set foot in the hall. Cursing silently, he drifted up to them, said “good-evening,” exchanged a few pleasantries, and confirmed that he would look forward to seeing them Bhaktar-eve at the Mesha banquet. Then he excused his way into the salon.

The outer room was not empty. A man stood before the walllength mirror, grooming his substantial beard.

Jaya fumed, took out his hairbrush, loosed his hair and began a careful currying. He glanced sideways. Damn all vanity! The fellow had begun to braid a lock of silver that stood out of the contrasting black. Jaya gritted his teeth.

“Excuse me,” said the beard-braider, “but is that natural?”

Jaya looked at him blankly. “Pardon?”

“Your hair, mahesa. Is that the natural color?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah. Very unusual. Very striking. Almost...blue black, isn’t it? I had to have this done.” He indicated the black curtain that framed the lone silvery lock, then went immediately back to braiding it.

Jaya glanced up into the mirror—his eyes on the door behind him. Maybe... A roar of laughter told him the corridor was still well-guarded. He resigned himself to patience, carefully rebound his hair, then got out his kohl kit and seated himself at the vanity bar. He then embarked on a painstaking refreshment of the Sarojin tiliq between his brows.

He was running out of things to touch up when at last the Bearded One finished his task and left the room. Jaya felt a wave of relief wash through him. It was rudely strangled by the muttered “excuse me’s” that greeted the Beard’s passage into the hall outside.

He sat, silent, listening, as the voices seemed to fade. In a moment there was silence.

Jaya quickly reassembled his grooming kit and tucked it away inside his day-coat. He was halfway across the salon when the door swung open and a young Vadin came in. Jaya froze and pretended to search for something in his pockets, his eyes on the swinging door. Through it he could see that the outer hallway was empty. He all but bolted for the corridor.

In the hallway, he strode swiftly to the lift-well and took the empty basket to the fourth level where it stopped with a swish of air brakes. The fourth floor corridor was empty. Jaya stepped out onto the plush turquoise carpet, then froze as a couple strolled arm in arm through the cross corridor. Intent on each other, they didn’t even mark his presence. He moved quickly to room 4-75 and pressed the chime.

It took only seconds for Pritam-sama to arrive at the door—to Jaya it seemed like minutes. He saw the surveillance light go on above the chime button and felt a stab of nerves, knowing he was being watched.

The light went out and the door slid open, revealing Taffik Pritam. Jaya slipped into the room before he was invited.

The Avasan regarded him warily, ice-pale eyes narrowed. “Mahesa. To what do I owe this honor?”

Jaya pulled Ana’s note from his wallet and offered it to him. “A message for Rohk Nadim...from his daughter.”

Pritam’s hand froze halfway to the note. His eyes penetrated Jaya’s like a deep blue frost. The hand hovered, snatched. He opened the note and read it, then read it again.

“This is her handwriting,” he said finally. “Where did you get this? How?”

“Ana is safe. In my home. She’s...posing as my cousin Ana Sadira from Avasa.”

Pritam-sama frowned. “How did she come to you?”

“That’s a story I don’t have time to tell. I’m dining downstairs and need to get back. I’m supposed to be in the men’s salon.”

“Why does she need duplicate leaf? Can you tell me that?”

“Hers was stolen.”

Taffik Pritam’s face went pink. “She’s yevetha?”

Jaya shifted uncomfortably. “Worse, I’m afraid. She’s carrying a dascree.”

“What?”

“We’ve managed to doctor it so it looks like a raicree, but she needs her leaf if she’s ever going to get home.”

“Get home? With a dascree in her palm?”

“No one expects an Avasan to have any cree at all, Pritamsama. With the proper leaf, no one would have any reason to check her palm. The problem is getting the leaf to Mehtar.”

Pritam nodded. “Not something that can come by packet. It would have to be carried over on someone’s person. And that—the expense of passage-“

“Is not a problem. I’ll pay it. Can you get the message to Rokh Nadim that his daughter needs duplicate leaf?”

“Of course.”

“Then that’s all that needs to be done. He can bring it with him when he comes over.”

“Comes over?” The Avasan was immediately suspicious. “How is that? He would make himself an instant target if he were to leave Avasa.”

Jaya colored in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

Taffik Pritam studied his face. “They want to kill him, mahesa,” he said at last. “They want to smoke him out and kill him.”

“That won’t happen,” said Jaya, side-stepping the issue. “Trust me. The arrangements for his well-being will be to your satisfaction. Can he be told that Ana needs the leaf without arousing suspicion?”

Pritam nodded. “There are ways. No one outside the family knows Anala is on Mehtar. Messages about her will not be expected to come from me.”

“Where is she, supposedly?”

“She went up to the camp at Tibi and took ill. As far as the KNC is concerned she is still there, fighting a case of vapor chill. She smuggled herself out of camp in a shipment of ore.” Pritam-sama’s eyes glinted speculatively. “Perhaps we should not be so hasty to get Ana home.”

“Why not? Surely, Nadim-sama is worried.”

“Oh, yes. He is that. The whole family is frantic, but I can put their hearts at rest with my next trans-chat. Think, mahesa. On Avasa Ana is in danger. Here...?” He shrugged.

Jaya nodded. “She’s anonymous and probably a good deal safer. Yes, I see your point.”

“But you, Nathu Rai. If you are afraid of being found out-“

“I’m afraid only of what might happen to Ana. If she’s safer in the Sarojin Palace, then that’s where she’ll stay. Now, I’d better go.” He turned, then paused. “Be careful what you say over the trans-chat, Pritam-sama. Someone may be listening.”

The Avasan grinned mirthlessly. “Have no fear, mahesa. We Guilders have our own peculiar language. Peace to you. And may Tara-ji smile on all your undertakings.”

A most composed-looking Ravidas was enjoying his food when Jaya returned to the table. A quirked eyebrow formed a question mark.

Jaya smiled and tackled his own meal. “I feel much better, having satisfied my vanity,” he said. “You will note my Saroj is now delivered of that purple smudge.”

“Ah, yes,” replied Ravi, squinting at his Nathu Rai’s forehead. “I am relieved.”

So was Jaya, and he settled back to enjoy his meal.

oOo

Ana’s day had gone much less smoothly than Jaya’s. Despite his concern about her being out on her own, she spent most of it wandering the Port Zone, following this new arrival or that. Jivinta knew what she was about, and had been surprisingly discouraging, but she had not tried to stop Ana from leaving the Saroj.

Ana saw a number of people from home, but the thieves never appeared to dog their tracks. She thought of approaching the Avasans herself, passing them notes asking them to contact her at the Sarojin Palace, but caution and courtesy got the better of her. The thieves might be watching. It would do her no good at all to be seen, perhaps even recognized by them. Besides, she thought, watching Mitras’s orb slide, crimson, toward the skyline, she could hardly give away the Nathu Rai’s address as if it were her own. The last thing he needed in his present circumstances was to have the Sarojin Palace turned into a camp for Avasan refugees.

In the sunset of a fruitless day, Ana mounted the horse she’d slipped from Kenadas’s stable and rode slowly toward the Sun Crescent. She despised her black mood. Gloom did not come naturally to her.

Passing the Asra Complex, she felt a swift need for intimate conversation with Something beyond herself. She stopped the horse and studied the magnificent dome of the Asra where it sat jewel-like amid its ancillary buildings—the Council Hall, the Hall of Knowledge, the Hall of Records. Surely, she could manage to enter unseen. Her clothing was inconspicuous and dark. But what if she was noticed? The Sun Crescent was Sarojin home turf. The Dandin of the Sanctuary would certainly know every soul in their community. A stranger would stand out like...like an Avasan on Mehtar.

In the end, she gave in to her inner need. It was dark when she entered beneath the lamplit archways and she tried to keep to the pools of shadow that eddied along the curving back wall of the Most Holy. There were few worshippers here at this time of day and most of those wore the silken robes of Orders. There were several older women in street clothes offering veneration at the feet of the Flower Altar, and a Dandin, still in the heavy chamber robes of the Vrinda Varma, knelt in a wall niche.

She surveyed the heart of the Asra. The circle of cushions around the Rama Fire was empty but for one very young bhakta whose half-shaved head and black robes marked him as one of the ascetic Asen.

Taking a deep breath, she moved silently to sit as nearly opposite the youth as she could, figuring that the Rama Flame itself would seclude her from him. Once cross-legged on her cushion, she pulled her prayer beads from around her neck and draped them over her head, pressing the large, faceted central crystal between her brows before allowing it to dangle there.

The firelight pierced the facets in a dizzying spray of hues. She followed them for a moment, allowing her eyes to play, unfocused, in the swirl and dance of colored lights. Her mind began to calm. She gazed past the crystal to the Flame that danced in its silver bowl. Light and heat...life of souls and planets.

She began a soft chant, her body rocking to an internal rhythm. The tension and frustration flowed out, light and heat flowed in. Time was meaningless here. It melted upward with the tongues of flame, curled toward the vaulted ceiling, and dissolved in tiny wisps of scented smoke. Deep in the spiral weave of meditation, Ana confronted the shame of being yevetha and was solaced: There is no shame save in breaking faith.

She had begun to swim toward outer consciousness, clutching that thought as if it was a Sagaran pearl, when she knew she was being watched. She opened her eyes and removed the beads from her head. Across from her—or nearly so, for he had moved—the young bhakta stared at her gravely. Seated on the cushion next to her, sat a Deva of the Cloud Order, arrayed in silver and white. Her waist-length hair was so close in color and sheen to her robes, it seemed to melt into them.

Ana bowed her head and quickly gave the respectful greeting. “Deva,” she said.

The other woman nodded in return, her dark, colorless eyes searching. “You have agitated my young associate,” she said. “He is not used to having young women appear suddenly at the Rama Fire and perform devotions...least of all if they are not in Orders.”

Ana couldn’t help throwing the bhakta a slightly pointed glance. “I am Rohin, Deva,” she said respectfully. “I wasn’t aware that this Asra was reserved for the Orders.”

“It isn’t, but...” The Deva’s mouth twisted wryly. “Mehtaran custom does not make your actions...common.”

“Is my devotion not acceptable to Tara-ji?”

“I am sure it is more than acceptable to Her.”

“Then, may I not offer it here?”

“You may offer it wherever you are called to offer it. I speak only of custom, not of Law.” The Deva’s eyes glided to the young ascetic’s face, then back to Ana’s. “You’re Avasan, are you not?”

“Yes, Deva.”

“Yet, you wear the Saroj on your brow. I know the Sarojin clan very well. I was not aware of an Avasan branch.”

“A remote branch, Deva. We are called Sadira. We have been two generations on Avasa, now.”

The Deva nodded, making an “ah!” with her mouth. “Am I correct in assuming that on Avasa no one would blink at a young female Rohin offering bhakti at the shrines?”

“You are correct, Deva.” Ana’s eyes found the bhakta’s face again.

Again, the Deva nodded. This time, she also smiled. The bottomless, black eyes came to life. “I shall inform Brother Dru of this fact.”

Ana dared an answering smile. “I am sorry to have disturbed his devotions.”

“Dru-sama disturbed his own devotions, Rohina. I will suggest to him that a slight difference in custom should not be allowed to spook the steed of contemplation and unseat the Rider.”

“If I might be so bold, Deva—I have found recitation and contemplation of the Seven Vales to be most helpful in learning to keep one’s seat.”

The Seven Vales was a highly mystical allegory of the soul’s quest for meaning revealed by the Kalki Avatar. It gave novice bhakta fits until they found the comprehension that came only through experience. Ana somehow doubted the unfriendly bhakta’s life in a Mehtaran Order had run to that experience...yet.

She knew there was a red gleam in her eyes. Her mother had always called it her demon. Oh, but it couldn’t be a demon, because there it was, echoed, in the Deva’s eyes and then, in her smoky, incense-scented laughter.

“That is an excellent suggestion, Rohina Sadira. May I assume you are able to perform such a recitation, yourself?”

“I am able, Deva. And to provide commentary.”

“I would like to hear that commentary someday,” said the Deva, “but now I feel the need to be expedient in giving my young associate his lessons.”

She rose with fluid grace, the yards of silver-silk hair billowing with the movement.

Ana looked up and smiled beatifically. “I’m sure he’ll feel well-rewarded by such great bounty.”

The Deva nearly grinned. “Oh, most certainly.” She moved a few steps away, then turned. “You will visit us again, Rohina?”

Ana bowed her head deeply. When she raised it, the Deva was already taking the bhakta aside, her face as unreadable as a festival mask.

Ana chuckled inwardly, feeling much better about everything...except... She glanced up into the capacious rotunda above the Asra’s Heart of Flame. “Forgive me, Sanat-ji, for judging the bhakta, Dru. And for crediting him with so little inner sight. I pray he is at least as enriched by the Journey through the Vales as I was.”

Her conscience somewhat appeased, she left the Asra and returned to the Sarojin Palace.

When she entered the Evening Room, some twenty minutes later, Kenadas was receiving a heated lecture on responsibility. It took her a moment to realize that she was the cause of the lecture, only a second more to feel profoundly guilty.

“Nathu Rai,” she said.

His head whipped about so briskly, she imagined she heard his neck snap.

“Please, Nathu Rai. Don’t take Kena to task on my account.”

Jaya obliged. He dismissed Kenadas, then turned to toss his ire in her direction. “Where were you?”

“I borrowed a horse and went for a ride,” she returned demurely. “I...needed to clear my head. Sort things through. I told Hadas and Jivinta Mina where I had gone.” It was not quite a lie; she merely omitted where she had ridden. “Ram-ji has always seen to my safety quite well,” she added.

“Ram-ji is, in all likelihood, a mass illusion incapable of protecting a dust mote. You need to look after yourself.”

Her cheeks felt scorched, but she chose not to answer his disbelief.

He changed the subject abruptly. “I saw Taffik Pritam this evening.”

Ana’s stomach did a somersault. “You gave him the message?”

Jaya nodded. “He promised to pass it on to your family at the earliest opportunity.”

“Then I will soon be leaving Mehtar.”

Jaya hesitated just enough to make Ana squirm, then he said: “Pritam-sama and I discussed that. We agreed you would be safer here.”

Anala’s ire kindled. “You agreed?”

“He brought to my attention that as long as your father’s enemies suppose you’re on Avasa, they won’t be looking for you here.”

“Then you needn’t be so concerned about my comings and goings.”

“Don’t be smug, Nadim-sa. I’m not worried about the KNC recognizing you and you know it. They’re not interested in what happens in the streets of Kasi, but Parva Rishi is. Neither of us knows to what lengths he would go to protect those interests.”

Anala blushed. “I didn’t mean to be smug, Jaya Rai. Forgive me.”

Jaya motioned at the chairs by the nearest hearth. “Will you sit down and have some tea with me?”

“Thank you, I could use some.”

Ana made herself comfortable in one curving cup, then watched the leap of flame as Jaya seat himself and used the chair-side com unit to ring Heli for tea.

“Did you inform Cousin Taffik of my status in your household?” She felt his gaze on her and decided she would never get used to that sensation.

“I told your cousin your id was stolen. I told him you were masquerading as the Rani Ana Sadira—my cousin.”

Ana picked at a stray thread on her seat cushion. “Then you didn’t tell him I was your dasa?”

“I value my life, Anala. I don’t think Pritam-sama would have reacted well to such news. And you are not my dasa. You were fortunate to have been stumbled upon by someone who doesn’t believe in slavery. Why do you persist in provoking him?”

Well, that was an honest enough question. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s my nature. I am trying to overcome it,” she added.

“Are you, indeed?”

“I went to Asra tonight.”

Jaya laughed at her. “To pray for forgiveness?”

“I always pray for forgiveness,” she told him. “I went...to sort things out. To get a different perspective.”

“And did you?”

She nodded. “My difficulties are insignificant. I see that. But the same difficulties are being inflicted on others—only God knows how many others. As you pointed out, I was fortunate. I was found by you and not by the Sarngin...or worse. Hadas was lucky, too. But his sister was not. What happens to her? To the others like her?”

Jaya shifted in his chair, his eyes following hers to the fire. “Why ask me?”

“Because you know. You know something about kaladans and slavery.”

He was not a man without conscience; she knew that. Last night she had sensed in him the opening of a new level of comprehension. They spoke of people, of lives—not of commodities, nor ciphers on an inventory sheet, nor even the strictly faceless “other.” These commodities had names—Ana, Hadas, Belia. She pressed him purposefully, now, wanting him to see this reality as she saw it, feel it as she felt it. She wanted him to walk, if only for a moment, in the way of the casteless—to imagine being free one moment and enslaved the next. She watched his face, wanting it to reveal his comprehension. It revealed nothing.

“I think you understand very well what might have happened to you, Ana. You were in that dalali long enough.”

“I was there long enough,” she said, “to know I’d like to see such places closed down.”

His mouth twitched. “That will never happen. The dalali is an institution in every major city on Mehtar. It’s how we handle people who...who fall from the structure of society.”

“Fall?” repeated Ana. “I didn’t fall, Nathu Rai, I was pushed. As other of my people are being pushed. I am not part of the structure of your society. It should have no claim on me.”

Jaya drew his eyes from the flames to give her his full attention. “It thinks it does, Ana. Generations ago, it seemed necessary to mark and track every man, woman and child in the world due to the diseases they might carry or the politics they might breed. Some believe it is necessary still. Some believe it necessary that every man be able to look at every other man and immediately know his relative place and relationship. It is a...a convenience, a shortcut. If I know you are of a lower caste, I don’t have to bother myself with establishing a relationship with you—that relationship is already established and defined. If I know you are higher, likewise, I need not worry myself with relationship, but only bow and offer the customary rituals of respect.”

He stopped speaking, but continued to look at her as if trying to work something out.

“But how can this happen?” she asked, and thrust her hand at him, palm up. She bored into his eyes, demanding him to give her an answer that made sense to her. “You were born to station; you are part of this world. I’m not. I’m Avasan. How can this happen to me?”

He looked away. “The laws of Mehtar don’t acknowledge true castelessness. You fell through the cracks, Ana. You all fell through the cracks.”

“You are a mahesa, a Lord, a member of the Vrinda Varma. Will you tell me that nothing can be done about this injustice?”

When he looked at her again, she saw her anger reflected in his eyes. “A week ago I might have told you that,” he said. “I might have half meant it. I can’t tell you that now, because I think something must be done.”

Ana nodded. At last, she thought. At last I have reached him.

“Thank you, Jaya Rai.”

“But,” he added, “it will not be done in the back ways of Kasi by a lone woman. Promise me you won’t go out again, alone. Promise me you will take someone with you. Promise as a Rohina.”

This time, Ana accepted both the logic and the urgency of the request. “I promise.”

He was surprised at her easy capitulation. “No argument?”

“I try not to argue with common sense. It’s foolish. I dislike looking foolish.”

Helidasa entered just then with their tea. They spoke of the Mesha party after that and said no more of conspiracies or slavery or of men who could steal lives without taking them.