by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 11 —

In which Jaya hopes that exhaustion trumps sakti and Ana fears that someone knows who she really is. 

oOo

It was well into morning when the last guests wandered from the Sarojin Palace. Jaya was halfway to his room when he realized how tired he was. Beside him, Ana let out an audible sigh.

Jaya stirred out of his own sluggish thoughts. “You too?”

She nodded. “I’m exhausted. I think I’m less tired after a day in the mines. Socializing requires much mental effort. Especially when you have to remember not only what to say and how to say it, but what not to say.”

Jaya glanced at her in dull surprise. “You don’t actually work in the mines, do you?”

“What else would I do?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t quite picture you covered in dust and man-handling drill bits. I guess I...thought maybe you... prepared meals...” He broke off lamely, feeling as if he’d just stepped into a sink hole.

Ana did not seem to begrudge him his ignorance. “The domestics prepare the meals. That’s their job. Mine is mining. My chores run from surveying terrain and assaying ore to driving sandcats and repairing machinery. I’m a very good mechanic. The best, father says. He also says I have gaur savvy.”

“Gaur savvy?”

She grinned. “I know where the ore is.”

They were at the door of Ana’s room. Ana glanced at it, then reached out to run her fingers over its sheeny, carved surface. “So hard to believe. I never imagined I would call anything like this ‘my room.’”

Curiosity nibbled. “What’s your room at home like?”

She shrugged. “It’s small—compared to this, at least. Dark and warm and round, like a cup turned upside down. The walls are white clay with tiny chips and slivers of mica. At night I can open the skylight and lie in my bed and watch Upala Ratri turn the slivers into a field of stars.”

“What do you watch while you lie in bed here?”

“The stars themselves.” She shook her head. “Windows—you take them for granted. I’ve only seen them on houses in the Sagara where winds aren’t so violent.”

Jaya wanted to know more about Avasa and violent winds and houses without windows. He wanted her to talk about her home, but it was neither the time nor the place. He opened the door to her room.

“Go watch some stars, Ana.”

She smiled, sleepily, and shook her head. “Tonight, I’ll watch only my dreams.”

There was an awkward moment as both of them hung between stillness and movement, then Ana disappeared into her room, the door closing with a soft click. Jaya stared at its ornate exterior for a moment, then retired to his own chambers.

The sakti wasn’t so bad when he was tired. It was hot and diffuse like sunlight. Maybe if he kept himself exhausted it would go away.

oOo

Ana went immediately to her bath chamber, undressed, washed and put on a soft robe. Humming a little of a favorite chanson, she carried the opulent clothing to the bed chamber wardrobe.  Her hand halfway to the intricately carved door, she paused, frowning. It might have been hours ago, but she distinctly remembered closing the wardrobe door. It was open now and the clothing disarranged. A diaphanous camisole was draped across the darker folds of the bodysuit beside it. At the end of the closet, the rough, brilliant fabric of her insulsuit protruded awkwardly from the surrounding finery. She started to tuck it back in then paused. The lapel had been pulled open, clearly revealing the initials stitched on the breast.

Ana’s tired mind immediately rejected the idea that a member of the Palace staff had been through her clothes. She headed for the connecting door to Jaya’s suite, flinging the crimson gown across the bed as she went. She was fully awake by the time she reached the opposite side of the room and realized the door was slightly ajar. She reached for it, then gave a shrill yelp as it opened toward her, forcing her to jump out of the way.

A bemused-looking Jaya entered her room. “Ana? What’s wrong?”

“The-the door,” she stammered.

He glanced at it. “Yes. I just noticed it was-“

She grabbed his hand and hauled him across the room, pointing at the wardrobe. “That was open too. Someone went through my wardrobe. They pulled this out.” She tugged at the insulsuit.

Jaya stared at the bright blue cloth. “Are you sure one of Heli’s girls didn’t just get curious?”

“Jaya, Heli’s girls have seen every stitch of clothing in this closet. They put it there. They check it and straighten it every day. And they don’t leave doors open.”

“Who, then?” he asked, but Ana saw a veil of suspicion fall across his face. He swore.

“It won’t help to-“

He held up his hand. “Spare me, Ana. Spare me all Rohin piety. Just let me be angry... Damn!” He paced away across the room, stopping to lean heavily against a bed post. “Someone is obviously very curious about you. And I’d say they suspect that a certain relationship exists between us.”

“Who? Who would care?”

“Duran Prakash. He dropped a few unsubtle hints at the celebration.”

“Duran Prakash? The Rani’s...” She stalled in mid-sentence. “Friend,” she finished.

“Toy,” said Jaya, then made a dismissive swipe at the air. “He’s the Consortium’s legal representative.”

“The Rani and the KNC Speaker?” Suddenly overwhelmingly weary, Ana crossed to the massive bed and let herself down onto it. It was too late and she was too weary to have to think in political convolutions. “How strange is coincidence.”

Jaya snorted. “What coincidence? Prakash is wooing the Rani because he has something to gain from it...he thinks. She’s a political link in the Kasi-Nawahr chain.”

“All right. But why would Duran Prakash care if we have...a certain relationship?”

“You’re Avasan. A sexual relationship between us could be construed as a compromise of my neutrality. Which he hinted at tonight. I made a point of telling him you were from the Sagara but-“

“But now he’s seen my insulsuit. Not something a woman of my means should have.”

“So it would appear.”

“And...I think I may have mentioned the Kedar to the Rani.”

“Delightful.”

“So.” She put more resignation into the word than she felt.

“So, nothing! Damn!” He struck the bed post a vicious blow with the flat of his hand. “The frustrating thing is, we can’t be sure it was him. Worse, we have no way of knowing if he learned anything significant.”

Ana had difficulty speaking past the lump in her throat. “He saw my initials on the insulsuit, Jaya. He learned my name isn’t Ana Sadira. Even if he doesn’t know Anala Nadim exists, he’s going to wonder why I’m lying about my clan.” She sighed. “You were right; I should have destroyed that insulsuit.”

“Well, I may be in ruin, but at least I’ve lived to hear you admit I was right about something.”

Ana glanced up at him. He was looking at her, stone-faced, only his eyes betraying irony. She laughed—and then couldn’t stop. She doubled up and fell over onto the bed. She could hear him laughing, too, and that only made matters worse.

Five minutes later, they were just recovering, feeling silly and spent. Ana sat up, Jaya sat down.

Ana uttered a sigh that was heavy with laughter. “The poor mahesa. I am such an irritant, I drive him to tears.”

He chuckled and wiped her cheeks with the sash of his robe. She realized the kohl around her eyes must have run; Jaya began dabbing at it.

“It’s a damn good thing no one can see us,” he told her. “They’d think I’d been abusing you.”

“You’d never do that, mahesa.”

It was something to say, but she instantly regretted saying it—most especially not in a tone of voice that sounded so coy.

He dropped the sash, gazing at her, eyes opaque. His fingers strayed into the thick fall of hair over her left ear. She shivered, relaxed, shivered again. She should stop him before he mistook the situation.

“Mahesa,” she started to say, but his kiss caught the word and silenced it.

She didn’t resist. She told herself she was a slave and he was her master. He had this right. Then she forgot about slaves and masters and simply began to drown.

She wanted to drown.

No, she wanted salvation.

She fought both drowning and salvation: Sense against sense. It was an age old battle: Will against attraction. She might as well fight gravity. This force, too, held the planets in their courses, ordered the universe and cemented families and nations together.

Her mind seized on an irrelevancy. How was it that the same force that ordered the universe created chaos between a man and a woman?

Chaos must be the illusion. Sakti illuminates. ‘And are you illuminated, Nathu Rai?’ she’d asked him.

Am I illuminated?

I am drowning, she acknowledged.

There was a pillow beneath her head now and Jaya pressed against her, over her, his hands still in her hair; her fingers were tangled in his. It was black silk; it was a spider’s web.

She tried to rouse her sense of self-preservation, but felt no danger. She tried to throw her mind forward to morning—beyond, to going home—alone. She failed to push it past the moment.

Jaya’s hand glided down her neck to her shoulder; caressing, gentle, pushing aside her robe. Cool air touched her breast for only a second before Jaya covered it with the warmth of his palm. The heat and pain was swift—no wonder the poets spoke of fire. She trembled convulsively and was suddenly terrified. His mouth left hers.

“No!” She forced the word between her lips.

He hesitated, then kissed her neck.

“Please,” she said.

He hesitated again.

“Jaya Rai?” Ravi’s voice came from the adjoining bed chamber.

Jaya groaned and rolled to his feet, pulling his robe tight around his waist. “Here.” He set his back against the bed post and glanced at Ana.

She had sat up and was clutching her robe over her chest.

“Don’t look so frightened, please,” he murmured.

“Mahesa!” Ravi was hovering in the connecting door, disapproval in every line of face and body.

Jaya beckoned him over. “What is so urgent you couldn’t ring?”

“I did ring, Nathu Rai. You did not answer.” He glanced at Ana, who let go of her robe and folded her hands in her lap.

“Ana just made a rather disturbing discovery,” Jaya said. “Someone went through her wardrobe this evening.”

Ravi’s dark eyes flickered to the open closet doors. “A thief?”

“A guest. I suspect Prakash-sama. I’d like to know for sure. Maybe someone on staff saw something.”

Ravi nodded. “I’ll ask them, Jaya Rai. Now, my message—which is urgent: There is someone downstairs who must speak with you. A Govinda-sama.”

Jaya straightened. “Where is he?”

“In the kitchen.” Ravi grinned. “Mata’s feeding him leftovers.”

“I’d better get down there before she fattens him up. We can’t have Govi looking well-fed. It would ruin his career. Ravi, if you’d talk to anyone who’s still up? And you,”—he turned to Ana—“sleep.”

When they’d gone, Ana sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at nothing. She was not thinking, but there was movement. An inner sense of balance took hold and righted her capsized universe.

After a while she prayed—begging forgiveness, begging wisdom, begging further balance. Then, exhausted both physically and emotionally, she slept.

oOo

“Ah! Jaya Rai!” Govi waved a fork at him and nodded, his mouth full of one of Heli’s prize concoctions. “This woman—a saint! A goddess! A shame she is married and I am crazy.”

Heli flushed and turned to poke at the fire in the raised hearth.

Jaya pulled up a chair and sat down opposite his indigent friend. “What’s the report?”

“Mmmph,” said Govi, chewing rapidly. He swallowed. “The alley behind the B&D.”

“Someone has moved in?”

“No one as moved in. Moved out my cozy—boxes, everything.”

“And?”

“Guards.” Govi chomped into a crispy bit of finger-food. “Big, ugly guards. Armed to their eyeballs. And gates at both ends of the alley.”

“Armed with what?”

“Illegals, I’d say. Oh, there’s stun-fuzzies. Visible. But take my word, Jaya Rai, they’ve got more than stunfuzzies.”

“Any traffic?”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Night time stuff. Little fellas pad up, slip something to the guards, pad off. Slick’n’quick.”

Jaya frowned. “Slip something to the guards? What? Slip what to the guards?”

“Little somethings. Little packets. So by so.” Govi indicated the size—about as big as a mailer.

“Anything else?”

“Not that I see...yet.” He grinned.

Jaya nodded and rose. “Thank you, Govi-sama.” He bowed. “Enjoy your meal. You will always be welcome here. My palace is your palace.”

“Nathu Rai,” said Govi tentatively. “I did notice a certain loft in your coach house. An empty loft. I see it was once das quarters.”

Jaya nodded. “Except for Kena, the full time staff lives in the main House.”

“Might one borrow it for a night or two? I haven’t found myself a new place yet.”

Jaya smiled. “Yes, you have. The loft is yours—permanently. If you need anything at all to make it cozier, just ask Ari or Heli.”

Govi’s face became a crinkled fabric of pleasure. “Thank you, Jaya Rai. I will repay.” He shot Heli a saucy look and tucked back into his meal.

Jaya returned upstairs feeling as if something was kicking his insides to pieces. He wanted nothing in the world but to send time backwards. To relive the last half hour without Ravi’s ill-timed appearance.

She’d said “no.” He’d heard that, ignored it. She’d asked him to stop, but he had no doubt he could have changed her mind—overwhelmed her the way she’d overwhelmed him.

He was just reaching for his door latch when Ravi’s voice called him—“Jaya Rai.”

He turned, strangely disoriented. Ravi, grim-faced, strode quickly toward him, stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and gave a soft report.

“I spoke to the upstairs girls. One of them saw Prakash-sama enter the Rani’s suite at about fifth hour and fifteen.”

All thoughts of Ana fled. “That-“ He smothered a foul imprecation. “I knew it.”

Ravi frowned. “Why would he be in Sri Ana’s suite?”

Jaya sucked in a sharp breath. He could hardly ignore the implications of the title Ravi had just used.

“Are you ascribing Ana sainthood now—or is that just your way of putting me in my place?”

Ravi’s face suffused with color. “I would overstep my boundaries-“

“You have no boundaries. We have no boundaries. Speak plainly, Ravi.”

“Anala may not be a saint, but I respect her. I wonder if you do.”

Jaya felt his face tingle with...embarrassment, he realized. “Yes. I do respect her. But...it’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it? Or is it as simple as heat and hardness and a certain pain?”

My face will be singed black, thought Jaya. “No. It is not that simple.”

“When one is hungry, one eats.”

“It is not that simple.”

Ravi waited patiently to hear how simple it was not.

Jaya sighed. “She draws me. Like...like rain to earth. Ravi, you’re making me explain things I don’t have words for.”

Ravi’s eyes glinted. “Poor mahesa. Life is discovery.”

“Now you’re beginning to sound like her.”

“Thank you. Jaya Rai, you owe me no explanations.”

Jaya nodded. “But I do owe Ana.”

“That depends on what has passed between you. I was thinking you owe them to yourself.”

“Ah. ‘Know what you feel before you act on it.’”

“Always good advice.”

“But if I don’t know what I feel-“

“Then is it wise to act?”

“I feel desire.”

“She is Rohin, Jaya Rai.”

Jaya exhaled explosively. “What does that mean? I’ve read everything I can find about the Rohin. It’s all contradictory, mysterious.”

“Mysterious? What’s mysterious about it? It’s a way of life, a path of purity, an attitude of devotion, a bhakti.”

“Bhakti.” Jaya shook his head. “What’s that? I don’t understand that either.”

Ravi’s eyebrows arched quizzically. “How can you not understand what you live, Jaya Rai? Bhakti is what you have for your Jivinta. That, I know you understand. Now, about Duran Prakash.”

Jaya pulled his mind back from the rim of some half-glimpsed metaphysical world. “Is he still here?”

“No. He left. Father says he was one of the last to have his mitas brought around. Will you confront him?”

“No, but I want you and Ari to hire some extra security people. No one must be allowed to enter this House without being seen. And I want more surveillance points added to the system.”

Ravi nodded. “Then there is nothing we can do about Prakashsama’s behavior tonight?” 

“It appears not.”

“That is a shame,” Ravi said.

Yes, it was a shame, Jaya thought, as he wearily entered his suite. A shame on a noble House. If he was punctilious about tradition he would send the Rani packing back to her clan capitol in disgrace...but that would mean publicly disgracing his father’s memory.

He stood at the connecting door now. It was still ajar. His hand rested on the latch. He pushed gently, swinging the door wide on silent hinges. A soft pinkish light still burned near Ana’s bed, shedding its glow over the occupant. She was asleep. She looked exhausted...and troubled. Her face lacked the softness of true rest and a frown lay across her forehead like a dark compress.

Jaya let himself relive those moments before Ravi’s interruption; felt Ana’s lips respond to his kiss, her fingers tangling his hair, her body—warm, smooth, muscular, seductive—evoking every form of hunger he knew. He recalled the verse of Erai prayer: All desires and all perfumes and all tastes. She was that. She was beautiful. She was terrifying.

And terrified.

He remembered that, now, having somehow burned through the veil of preferred memory. He recalled her face in that second before Ravi called. That was fear. Not desire, fear.

He turned back into his own bed chamber, leaving the door open. His head hurt with fatigue. Puzzle pieces spun there, Desire, sakti, disgrace, honor, love, fear, bhakti—pieces.

Bhakti is what you have for your Jivinta.

He slept with that thought, finding it an easier bedmate than the memory of Ana’s terror.