by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

— CHAPTER 12 —

  In which there is a shadowy meeting between confederates and an open attack on the Saroj.

oOo

“Your report?”

“Not as good as I’d hoped.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“No less so to me. The Rani Melantha has charms beyond her son’s political position.”

Duran Prakash seated himself in a pillowed cup chair and gazed out over Kasi. He barely noticed the magnificent view afforded by the height of the penthouse.

“She divested herself of any conflicting interests,” he reported.

“At her son’s request?”

Prakash shrugged and sipped his drink. “I have no idea. I only know that the couture called in extreme heat asking why his benefactress had withdrawn her funds.”

“I see. And you’ve gotten her no closer to marriage?”

“I was admitted to her private chamber after the Mesha celebration.”

“Ah! And?”

“And we performed...certain Bogar rites. Rites she had not permitted me before. But that was all. She seems determined to give me only a drop more of herself at a time. I did glean some more about her son’s relationship with this Avasan girl, though.”

“Yes?”

“Her bed chamber connects with our Lord’s, and her wardrobe is full of the sort of whispwear a man likes to see on his bedmate. I’m certain there’s a sexual liaison there and, with the position she enjoyed at table—well, I would say our Nathu Rai has a vested interest in the welfare of her family on Avasa. They are not in the mining business-“

“Irrelevant. The Avasan economy is driven by mining. Everything else is just part of the infrastructure.”

                       “We may be able to call him on this, then, if the Vrinda Varma shares that interpretation of the situation.”

There was a protesting creak of leather as Nigudha Bhrasta rose from his chair. He moved to the great window that formed one wall of the opulent office atop the North Tower of the KasiNawahr Consortium’s main offices. Imbedded pieces of crystal shot a rainbow of light-darts back into the darkened room.

“It seems, then, that there may be several ways to get to the young mahesa through this woman. Which is best? Is she in a politically susceptible position?”

Prakash chuckled. “That I seriously doubt, although I suspect she is not just Avasan, but possibly Genda Sita, as well.”

“Her skin is surely not that light.”

“I’ve had the opportunity to inspect her fairly closely. Her palms are pale as cream, which leads me to think what color she has is merely sun tan. I’m having the Sadira family checked out, of course. Her grandmother was from Avasa and her grandfather from Darupur. I’m having the Avasan side of her family traced.”

“I’m not sure the color of her skin is going to serve us much. Remember, a Sarojin can get away with things other men cannot. If she is Genda Sita, that means that one of them has already got away with marrying a snow-jinn. Besides which, there are elements within the Vrinda Varma that would consider raising a racial issue a petty tactic. Her origins alone may provide the tool we need. At the next session, the issue shall be raised.”

“That will slow things down a bit,” agreed Prakash, “but it will hardly get us the Sarojin vote. Nor will eliminating him from the vote serve our purposes.”

“No, we must influence the young Taj. It appears we must resort to more obvious persuasion.”

Prakash grimaced. “So it would seem. Sarojin is too arrogant to be bought and too apathetic to be pressured politically.”

“No, Duran, you’re wrong. Apathy is not a Sarojin trait and never has been. If it were, your Rani would not recently have sold her KNC interests. Our Nathu Rai is simply too stubborn to be pressured politically. He has that much of his father in him.”

Bhrasta seated himself in the chair opposite Prakash and reached for the decanter of wine on the table between them.

“Perhaps he will respond to pressure of a more primitive sort.”

oOo

Ana felt completely bedraggled—as if the repeating dream of tearing her way through the sweat of a Mehtaran swamp had been real. It was a child’s nightmare—the endless path; green, dripping horizon at arm’s length; alien sounds spurring her to a haphazard run; the continual sense of pursuit, as if some dim alien beast closed in behind.

Ana was mistress of her subconscious. She manipulated the dreams, massaged them, paused, edited and reread them. On the fourth or thousandth time through, the diadem on her head sprouted real wings and let her soar above the close, green maze.

She saw the high plains—flat, dry and familiar. She winged her way to them and perched, secure, on a low hakwood tree. Her lungs filled with sweet, arid chill. She scanned the horizon for dangers and saw only mirages—shifting, indistinct, threatening. Like dark little dust-jinn, they hung on the fringes of perception.

She closed her eyes and let the mist from the cup of hot channa between her hands caress her cheeks and eyelids. Sun wove through the trees and soothed the dim ache at her temples.

“Are you asleep?”

Ana’s eyes came open and tried to focus through the steam. One of her dust-jinn had come to life.

“I’m not sure,” she answered him. Then, “No. I think I must be awake. If I were asleep I wouldn’t be so exhausted.”

“I thought you were a career miner. Where’s that famous Avasan stamina?”

“Don’t scoff, Nathu Rai. You’d do no better after a day in a mine shaft.”

“Undeniably true. Have you eaten breakfast?”

She shook her head. “My stomach is still asleep.”

“Let’s go, then.”

“Go?”

“Into Kasi. I think we need to pay the Port Zone Sarngin a visit. We can get something to eat afterwards.”

We are not talking about it, then, Ana thought as she followed Jaya from the House. A crimson aircar waited at the bottom of the wide steps.

Anala stopped to admire it. “Very impressive, but why are we taking it? Horses are-“

“Not nearly as impressive. I want to be especially impressive today. And I want you not to be seen.”

He thumped the nearly opaque surface of the tinted window, then popped the passenger side door open. It rose with the elegance of a bird’s wing.

“Your coach, Rani.”

“Your manners are improving.”

He bowed and helped her into the car. It was spacious and comfortable and smelled like any new machine. She was reminded of her family’s sand-crawler, then laughed at the absurdity of the comparison.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just struck by the similarity between your car and our sand-crawler. It smelled new once, too.”

Jaya chuckled and started the aircar’s near silent engine. They were out on the road before he spoke again.

“Are we going to talk about last night or pretend it didn’t happen?”

Ana’s face flamed and her stomach quivered. “What needs to be said? It happened.”

“And you don’t feel anything?”

“I feel a great many things, mahesa.”

“Name one.”

“Fear.”

He nodded. “I know. I saw that. What are you afraid of? Me?”

“Of drowning...of losing myself.”

He glanced at her. She made busy staring out at the passing scenery. He started to say something, then grimaced and shook his head.

“I am not an institution,” he said. “I’m a human being.”

Ana turned to look at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means...” He shook his head. “It means I was thinking out loud. Ignore me. Govi informs me that there’s some clandestine business going on in the back alley of the Badan-Devaki.”

“What?” Ana sat forward too quickly. Her safety harness snapped her back against the seat. “Ouch! And when did he inform you of this?”

“Last night. Correction: This morning.”

“That was the visitor-?”

Jaya nodded. “He says the alley behind the dalali is gated and under guard now, and that couriers are making midnight deliveries to the guards.”

Ana frowned. “Midnight deliveries of what?”

“I don’t know. Govi just said they were small packets.”

Ana put her hands on the curving, padded crash panel and stared out at the road.

“That’s it, then. The thieves steal the leaf, the Sarngin pick up the victims and take them to the BadanDevaki. You told me Govi got hustled out of his alley by Parva Rishi. He must have been in the way.” She frowned. “Isn’t that backwards? If the dalali is paying off the Sarngin, why are deliveries being made to them? Are you sure Govi didn’t see a payoff?”

“I’d trust Govi’s sight—it’s pretty sharp. He said the couriers were delivering, not picking up.”

“But delivering what?”

“I don’t know. I do know that some of our Port Zone Sarngin are on Badan-Devaki’s payroll. The question is, how many and at what level of command?”

“How can we find out?”

“I don’t know, Ana. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Ana glanced at him. He seemed suddenly uncertain. A chill skittered down her back. “You’re jeopardizing yourself, aren’t you—doing this?”

Jaya smiled. “Don’t worry, Ana. I’m not jeopardizing anything.”

The headquarters of the Port Zone Sarngin was in a neighborhood of modern, business-like splendor. Square, gleaming buildings of stone and glass lined up along the broad avenue—the lairs of officialdom.

Jaya parked the car before a particularly solid-looking block of stone with a pair of bronze eagles flanking the heavy, gilt doors. The massive birds glowered menacingly over the street as if they took their role as Sarngin symbol of Law and Order very seriously indeed. Their wings were open and arched, metal pinions nearly touching over the doorway.

“Impressive,” said Ana, peering at them through Jaya’s window. “Our Sarngin in Onan have a conservative little dugout with a nice flagpole. They replace the Eagle flag every month—twice in Chaitra—and the flagpole comes down at least three times a year. They’d love this. Of course, it would be entirely impractical in the Kedar outback.”

“So, it would seem, is the flagpole.”

She shrugged. “We have to be able to tell the Sarngin dugout from all the other dugouts in Onan. But you may be right—maybe the Onan Sarngin should get some statues. Of course, they’d have to have the wings folded or they might blow away.”

Jaya shook his head. “Eagles with folded wings would hardly present the image of tireless vigilance-“ He broke off and gave her a severe scowl. “You’re obnoxious when you’re tired. Didn’t your mother and father ever warn you not to tell tales?”

Ana knew she missed looking innocent by a wide margin. “You don’t believe me about the flagpole?”

Jaya unsnapped his harness. “I don’t believe a one thousand pound bronze eagle can fly.”

“You’ve never been to the Kedar. Onan is at the foot of Mount Amurpradha—merely at the rim of the High Plains. The wind gauge is a boulder on a hundred pound chain.”

Jaya grimaced and popped his door open. It swung up and back with wing-like grace as if saluting the feathered guardians.

“Stay in the car,” he warned. “The air system is on and the vents are open. Keep the doors and windows closed and locked. Don’t get out for anything or anyone. Don’t open the doors until I get back.”

She watched him disappear into the headquarters. Wings. Wings seemed to have new significance all of a sudden. Wings on guardian birds, wings on crowns that became wings to escape nightmare dangers. Protection, status, freedom—an odd lot. She sighed and settled back to wait.

oOo

The Sarngin headquarters was very much as Jaya expected—muted and concise. Every angle was exact, every surface gleaming. The only color in the place was in the uniforms of the officers. The Patrolmen were in gray, their sergeants in black.

There were two officers approaching him already. They seemed pleased to have noticed him. He was pleased to have been noticed.

“Nathu Rai,” said the senior of the two. He wore the nearly iridescent purple of a Division Chief. Both offered the military version of the respectful greeting—one quarter benediction, three quarters salute.

“We are honored,” said the lesser officer—a Patrol Chief. “How may we assist the Nathu Rai Sarojin?”

“I wish to consult with your Commander about a matter of great concern to his district.”

“I am Division Chief Varaza,” said the D.C. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

Jaya weighed the advisability of revealing any more, then said, “It seems the merchants near the Spaceport are concerned about the growing number of thieves roaming the streets. I’ve heard reports that the crime rate is up around the Warrows—a lot of Avasan tourists are being mugged and then arrested as yevetha. An unhealthy diplomatic situation.”

The two Sarngin exchanged frowning glances.

“I’ve noticed no increase in complaints from the area,” said the Division Chief. “Have you heard anything, Kers?”

The Patrol Chief shook his head slowly. “The Warrows, you said, Nathu Rai. If I knew the neighborhood...”

“Dockrow,” said Jaya.

“Ah! That’s not my territory.” There was relief in the man’s face. “Perhaps I could-“

“Yes. Patrol Chief Kers is correct,” interrupted the D.C. “That isn’t his territory. I believe you want to talk to Patrol Chief Ranjit...or to me. I’m his superior.”

“I believe I already stated what I wanted, Chief Varaza. I want to speak to your superior. Is the Zone Commander in?”

A dark anger glinted in Varaza’s eyes. “I’m sure I can assist you-“ he started to say, but Patrol Chief Kers was already speaking.

“I saw the Commander not five minutes ago in his office, Nathu Rai,” he offered, and the D.C.’s face darkened to an unbecoming shade of purple that clashed dreadfully with his uniform.

Jaya smiled. “I’ll see him now—if he can spare the time.”

Division Chief Varaza smiled in return, his color returning, more or less, to normal. “I’m sure he can. If you will follow me, Nathu Rai.”

A glance in the P.C.’s direction effectively dismissed him.

Jaya followed the Division Chief down a broad central corridor toward the rear of the building. The click and clatter of myriad heels on the polished gray floor sounded like a horde of summer locusts. As they crossed the large common office area given to Patrolmen and their immediate superiors, young Sarngin eyed him with unabashed envy and admiration.

How naive. They could only envy the status that went with the Sarojin tiliq between his brows or admire a reputation for...whatever it was he had a reputation for. They had no idea what kind of man lived behind all that. 

He was escorted to the glass-fronted office of Zone Commander Mall Gar and waited patiently while Division Chief Varaza went inside to announce him. In a moment he was back, holding the gleaming metal and glass door open for Jaya’s entrance. The Chief glanced quickly from his Commander to Jaya, then left, closing the door behind him.

“Nathu Rai.” Commander Gar bowed deeply, then gestured toward a less-than-comfortable looking couch across from his desk. “Please make yourself comfortable,” he said and gave the couch a rueful look. “If you can.”

A man with a sense of humor, Jaya observed. He seated himself and glanced around the office. It was neither austere nor opulent, and was tasteful, if muted, in its appointments—a thing which Gar’s deep crimson uniform jacket more than made up for.

The pictographs on one wall told him of a man’s career—graduation from the Academy of Military Sciences in Nawahr, awards for marksmanship, the Badge of a master level Logician. On the wall opposite, a different tale; this one told by a tripaneled antique tapestry of delicate and lush beauty. And behind the desk, a wall full of books.

Jaya took that all at a glance and turned his attention to the man. “This is quite an elegant office, Commander. You have excellent taste.”

Gar’s eyes widened in apparent surprise. “I am sure it can’t be as elegant as what you’re accustomed to, Nathu Rai.” His speech was precise and carried a slight Norther accent.

“Elegance,” observed Jaya, “is a function of taste and self-expression, not of wealth. Unfortunately, wealth and taste are rare partners.”

Commander Gar’s response was a twitch at the corner of his thin mouth and a slight jerk of his head. “What may I do for the mahesa?” he asked.

Jaya draped his cloak over the back of the couch and arranged himself to look relaxed.

“The mahesa,” he said, “has been informed that muggings are becoming commonplace in the Port Zone. Especially in the Warrows.”

Gar frowned and nodded, his hollow cheeks drawing in even further. A thick fringe of curly hair screened his eyes so that Jaya couldn’t read them.

“The tourist areas are always the most attractive to criminals,” he said.

“According to my sources, they’ve become suddenly more attractive.”

The frown deepened. “What do your...sources say, exactly?”

“That attacks on tourists are occurring with growing regularity.”

“I’ve heard no such reports. I assure you, Nathu Rai, if there were more muggings being reported I would have heard of it.”

“I didn’t say they were being reported, Commander. But they are being observed.”

“By whom?”

Jaya shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to say, but I consider my sources unimpeachable.”

Gar stood and circled his desk, obviously disturbed. “If they’re not being reported... Why are they not being reported?”

Jaya met the other man’s impressive gray gaze. “Because the people being attacked can’t go to the Sarngin without being arrested.”

Gar made an impatient gesture with one hand. “Speak plainly, Nathu Rai. I have no aptitude for mysteries.”

Jaya sloughed the relaxed pose and stood face to face with the Sarngin Commander.

“Neither have I, Gar-sama. But I’m in the middle of one nonetheless. Speak plainly? I’m not sure I can. Quite frankly, I’m not sure I can trust you.”

He moved away from Gar toward the interoffice window and gazed across the outer room. Division Chief Varaza and another officer were involved in conversation in a doorway across the commons. They both glanced toward Gar’s office, saw they were being watched and glanced away again.

Jaya chewed his lip. Who to trust? And how far to trust them?

He turned his gaze to the Commander’s reflection in the glass. The frown of deep perplexity and growing impatience hadn’t altered.

“I’ll try to speak plainly, Commander Gar. When I can do so without jeopardizing my informants.” He turned his back on the window. “Here’s the scenario: A young, attractive Avasan gets off a starcoach at the Kasi spaceport. Somewhere in the Port Zone, he or she is set upon by thieves. The thieves aren’t after money or jewelry, unless it’s readily gotten. They take only leaf. A matter of minutes after they’re gone, a team of Sarngin come by and take the brand new yevetha to a dalali where they are processed and sold.”

Gar studied him for a moment, then said, “You are suggesting this is no coincidence.”

“These attacks are not taking place out in plain sight, Commander. One that I know of occurred in an alley; one happened in a side street rowhouse. In that case, the Sarngin passed the thieves on their way to make the arrest. They went right to the house, Commander Gar. Right to it.”

Gar’s expression was grim. “You seem very well-informed. You said ‘young, attractive Avasans.’ You believe they’re being singled out for this treatment?”

“I do. They have no cree. Once their leaf is gone, their id is gone. Instant yevetha. Instant fodder for the dalali.”

“Yes, the dalali. A particular one, you think? One you could put a name to?”

“Badan-Devaki.”

Commander Gar moved to the bookshelf behind his desk and touched a small control panel. A large vicom screen came to life just above it. He fingered a menu item on the screen, then another. A map of the Port Zone filled the screen. He tapped the southern corner and the map shifted to show a portion of the Silk District. Another selection caused an irregular array of red squares to appear on the map.

“The Badan-Devaki is here, is it not?” Gar pointed to a red square situated along a broad boulevard.

Jaya nodded.

“Well, here are the Warrows.” The tracing finger moved south into the Port Zone. “As you can see, the Badan-Devaki is the closest dalali. It’s normal procedure to take yevetha to the brokerage closest to the point of arrest.”

Jaya studied the map for a moment, then moved to plant a finger among a warren of minor streets. “One attack took place here. The victim still ended up at Badan-Devaki. The closest dalali is this one...” He pointed at a red square to the east. “The Blue Iris. I suspect the Badan-Devaki is paying to have das made for them, Commander Gar, and that some of your men are on their payroll. If that’s so, wouldn’t you like to know which ones?”

“Indeed I would, Nathu Rai Sarojin. And I assure you, I intend to find out who they are. I also assure you that their orders did not come from this office. If you could introduce me to your sources—let me question them-“

Jaya shook his head, turned back to the sofa and retrieved his cloak.

“Forgive me, Commander, if I hesitate to trust you. But I can’t take that chance. Not yet.”

oOo

Ana was nearly asleep by the time he returned to the aircar and jumped half out of her seat when he got in. She was fully awake in seconds, though, and listened intently to his report as they drove.

“Do you think he’s one of them?” she asked, when he’d finished. “One of the crooked Sarngin?”

“I don’t know, Ana. I honestly don’t. I tried to read him. I wanted to trust him. Then he asked to question my informants.” He shrugged. “I don’t trust Varaza, though. He just seemed... too perturbed by my visit with Gar.”

“Maybe he was just concerned that you might get him in trouble with his Commander. After all, you did go there to complain about the rise of crime in his sector. And you went over his head to do it.”

Jaya chuckled. “I guess I did. All right, so I’m not a detective.”

He had just turned the car onto the drive that fronted the Sarojin property when Ana saw the graffiti. She grasped his arm.

“Jaya, look! On the wall by the gates!”

He brought the aircar to a stop. Just up the gentle slope, a red, three foot high scrawl glared down at them from the perimeter wall. “DEATH,” it said. “DEATH TO AGIM. DEATH TO FRIENDS OF AGIM.” The meaningless word “WoCoa” was scribbled beneath.

“Who in the name of-“

“It’s fresh,” said Ana. She pointed at the oozing letters.

Jaya swore violently, flipped his harness off, and popped the door.

“What are you doing?” asked Ana, grasping his arm more tightly.

“I’m going to see if they left any telltale signs.”

“All right.” Ana reached for her harness clip.

Jaya’s hand closed over hers. “Stay in the car, Ana.”

“I’m not afraid to go out there.”

“Then you’re an idiot. Stay in the car.”

Angry, Ana tugged at the clip. The pressure of Jaya’s fingers increased painfully. She glared at him.

“Do you want to take the chance that someone might be watching? Someone who might recognize you? These are your father’s enemies we’re dealing with.”

He was right. She was being an idiot. Still glaring, she nodded.

Jaya slid out of the car and glanced around, removing his cloak and dropping it onto the driver’s seat.  He closed and secured the door, then rounded the sleek nose to wade through the lush greenery at the base of the wall.

Watching him, Ana failed to notice the large, silver-gray aircar that glided to a stop behind her. Failed to see the hooded men that climbed from it until they were flanking her.

A movement at the corner of her eye made her turn her head. Two figures slid by her window, close enough to brush the glass. Electrified, she let out a muffled shriek. Two more men moved by on the left. She’d flipped off her harness and was in the act of springing the door catch when she remembered that they couldn’t see her.

She caught at mental cords of discipline. I can’t panic. I won’t be any good if I panic.

The men fanned out at the nose of the car, moving to encircle Jaya. She could just see him through the wall they created and willed him to hear them or sense them.

As if at her thought, he turned and straightened. His eyes flicked to Ana, though they couldn’t see her there, behind the opaque glass. Stay, they said, then scanned the hooded ones.

“Is this your work?” asked Jaya. His hand extended toward the wall.

Ana couldn’t tell if he got an answer.

What he said next was, “Who are you? What do you want?”

The answer to that was movement. They edged closer, spreading the circle to cut off his retreat.

“Damn!” murmured Ana. “Damn!”

She searched frantically for some way to hear what was happening without giving herself away. She found the controls to the roof hatch and breathed a prayer that its mechanism would be as silent as sunlight. It was.

“-jobs on the block,” said a raspy, metal-edged voice. “We don’t like that. We’re just...registering our disapproval.”

Jaya shrugged. “What have I done that you disapprove of? I haven’t voted on the AGIM petition yet.”

“We want to make sure you vote correctly, that’s all. We don’t like the idea of your foreign friends eating into KNC payload. Which they will, if the AGIM petition passes. And the first thing to go will be the cargo handlers. The KNC won’t support a team of wharfers when there’s nothing for them to do. And that won’t be all. AGIM threatens every honest worker in the KNC family. You vote right, mahesa, we keep our jobs. You vote wrong, we lose—and we’ll see to it that you lose.”

“You’re not damn likely to influence my vote by painting hate slogans on the walls of my estate.”

The thugs edged closer.

“We hear,” said the saw-tooth voice, “you can’t be bought.”

“And you thought maybe I could be frightened? Think again.”

“No, mahesa. You think again.”

The thug took three quick strides forward and slammed Jaya against the wall with a blow to his shoulder.

Ana gasped and coiled for action, her hand hovering above the door catch.

Jaya’s eyes drove her back.

They won’t kill. They need to frighten, not to kill. Stay calm...

That was far from easy. Ana knew her temper was a great personal weakness, and watching Jaya take a swift series of vicious blows taxed her self-discipline almost beyond limit. She concentrated all her will on his well-being.

oOo

His back to the wall, Jaya struggled for breath and focus. He was hemmed in—a man before him, another beside him, holding him in place. A black hood wavered before his sight, eyes like dark flares gleamed through the shadowed slits. Not quite right, those eyes. One of them was crooked. Skewed in some way—the flesh around it, puckered. Through a haze of pain and vertigo, he heard the rasping voice again.

“How do you vote now, mahesa?”

“I vote you to Niraya Hell.”

“Are you sure, mahesa?” There was a surreptitious movement among the folds of the man’s black cloak.

Jaya saw the thin, shining sliver of blade just before it bit into his left side. He sucked in a sharp breath and tried not to cry out.

Ana jumped as a chill dashed around her rib cage. Something was wrong. She gasped for air, fighting against a sudden stitch in her side. She tried to read Jaya’s face, but his eyes were closed. They came open as her fingers curled around the door catch. She bit her lip and waited, wishing someone would come. Surely someone could sense that they were in danger. Kena? No, Ravi! Jaya’s shadow. If only Ravi might have some gift of second sight.

“Am I making an impression, mahesa?” The knife nibbled its way deeper.

Caught between the knife and the wall, Jaya could not escape the pain. “Not the one you were hoping for,” he said and gasped when the blade punished him for the insolence.

“I don’t think this is going to convince him,” said the man at Jaya’s shoulder. “I think maybe another tactic might.”

Sawtooth seemed to consider that, then nodded. He withdrew the knife and wiped the bloody point on Jaya’s shirt.

“So you don’t care about your own pain, hm? What about someone else’s? What about...oh, that Avasan cousin of yours—the Rani Sadira?”

Jaya tensed. “What do you know about her?”

He could feel the smile through the hood. “Oh, the Coalition is very interested in what you Varmana do in your private moments. Knowledge like that can be quite useful in times like these. We have quite a network set up to bring us that knowledge.”

“Oh? What knowledge did you hold over poor old Adivaram’s head?”

The black hood laughed. “I’m sure you’d like to know. I can tell you it was nothing like this. That old boy only cares for the dagam. But you... I’ll bet you’d go out of your way to protect your little Genda cousin, yes?”

Jaya thought frantically. Where distraction had failed, perhaps bluff would succeed.

“What makes you think I would? She’s a pleasant diversion, but hardly worth jeopardizing my career on the Vrinda Varma.”

“You really expect me to believe you don’t care about that woman? Tsk. Nathu Rai, you’re joking with us. I assure you, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

“I’m not joking. I don’t give a damn what happens to her. I can buy five more just like her in any dalali in Kasi.”

He was surrounded by unpleasant laughter.

“Buy a Rani, mahesa? I doubt even you could do that. You’re lying through your eyes.” He peered into them as if to flush the lie out. “It’s a shame your beautiful, Rani-dasa isn’t here, or we could put that lie to the test.”

He didn’t mean to glance at the car, but he did—and Sawtooth, with the skill of a veteran tracker, followed the trail his eyes left.

“Ah! But she is here, after all!” He jerked his head to one side. “The car.”

oOo

Crouched on the padded seat, Ana tensed, her fingers aching in their death-grip on the backrest. She’d already thrown the door catch, already disengaged the automatic lift mechanism. Now she braced herself against the inner arm of the passenger seat, her feet resting against the door panel.

Two men approached the car. One circled to the driver’s side. Ana grimaced. Thank God she’d thought of that. The man on her side drew a very illegal weapon from his cloak—a lightning gun. It occurred to her that Jaya would probably want her to start the car and shoot away in a jet of hot air. She took a deep breath. Not a chance.

The car rocked slightly. A voice overhead and behind called, “This side’s locked.”

Ana glanced at the driver’s side monitor. This thug, too, had a weapon trained on the car. He nodded to his partner. Ana swiveled her head back around and tensed. The man above her leaned forward slightly and reached for the external hand hold.

She kicked with every ounce of strength in her body. The door flew up and back, caught the thug full in the face, and sent him crashing backward into the knee high foliage. It closed over him like a green tide. The car bucked savagely as his partner scrambled to the roof.

Ana dove through the open door into the leafy cover. She landed half atop her unconscious victim. Gun! she thought and scrambled for it among the moist shadows. It wasn’t in his hand. She slithered forward, suddenly aware of sound. To her left—shouts and cries and the sound of fighting. Behind her, something scrambling, groping, seeking her out.

Last night’s nightmare popped into her head. Her salvation then had been the winged crown, but the crown was gone, safely tucked away in a velvet bag. A velvet-

Heart beating loudly enough to drown out all else, Ana groped for the fallen thug’s hood. She found it, grasped it, tugged. It gave slightly, then caught. Biting her lip to keep from groaning in frustration, she gave it another yank and was rewarded. The hood was in her hand. Her ankle was in someone else’s.

Kicking, she struggled the hood over her head and prayed she could make her naturally husky voice sound like a man’s. “Hey!” she roared and popped her head out of the greenery.

The other thug released her ankle with a disgusted growl. “Help me find her!”

She jerked her head backward. “The gun,” she grunted, and submerged herself in the foliage again.

Now she crawled toward the wall, desperate. Where was the gun?

The glint of stray sunlight on its anodized casing gave it up. It had come to rest against the base of the wall, its muzzle propped in the woody crook of a fern. Two more feet and she had it in her hands. She rolled over onto her back and lay still.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Just beyond her feet she could hear the sounds of search. To her right... 

A sharp cry of pain made every nerve in her body jump.

“Tell her to come out, mahesa. Tell her to come out now. Before you lose the ability to speak.”

Ana sat up and tore off the hood. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

“Come here!” ordered Jaya’s captor. “Come here and save your Lord from a very sore throat.”

Ana shook her head. “Come get me.”

The knife tip nipped at Jaya’s throat, drawing blood.

“I’ve hurt my ankle,” she added.

The thug just below her on the florid bank started to move toward her, then stumbled. He swore, reached into the foliage and came up with his partner’s hand. He started to pull, attempting to help the man to his feet.

“No!” The leader gestured violently. “His hood, stupid! She’s got his hood! Leave him! I want her.”

The thug nodded, straightened, took a step up the slope. Ana raised her hands out of the leafy blanket, sunlight dancing along the barrel of the lightning gun. She aimed it at his middle.

The hooded head shook. “You don’t know how to use that, Rani.” He made a move to draw his own weapon, tucked away during his search.

“Don’t bet your life on it.”

He kept moving. A sizzling bolt of light shot from the gun’s muzzle and sliced past his right elbow, turning the fabric of his jacket to cinder. He grabbed his arm and dropped into the vegetation, howling in pain.

Ana was on her feet, swinging toward Jaya and his two guardians. One of them made a dash for her just as the wounded man recovered himself and drew his gun. Faced with a two sided attack, Ana leapt backwards against the wall.

In the momentary burst of confusion, Jaya parted company with his distracted captor. A well-aimed kick threw the thug off balance, but he still had the knife. He thrust it at Jaya’s face, forcing him back and away from where Ana dealt with her two attackers.

oOo

Distracted, Jaya tried to edge around and away from the slashing blade. The next thing he knew he was on his back in the brush, fending it from his throat. He heard the crack and sizzle of a lightning pistol and a shriek of singed agony. Above him, the knife-wielding thug swore and tore out of his grasp, leaving him to wallow in the brush. Someone ran past him, shouting.

He heaved himself up and staggered toward the car, trying to focus his eyes. Ana was there, moving toward him through the tall growth. She reached him in what seemed like hours, her hands searching for wounds. He pushed her hands aside and gathered her into a fierce embrace, kissing her hard enough to bruise his lips. She responded in kind.

“Idiot!” he called her. “Why didn’t you just drive to the House for help?”

“I wasn’t about to leave you out here alone.”

“Stupid. You could have got Ravi-“

“I did get Ravi.” She pulled away from him and looked over her shoulder. Behind her, Ravi held a stun-fuzzy on a huddled heap wearing a crumpled hood.

Jaya blinked. His arm around Ana’s shoulders for support, he moved unsteadily to Ravi’s side.

His friend’s face was a study in anger, amazement, and anxiety. He grasped Jaya’s arm with his free hand.

“Are you all right? You’re bleeding.”

Jaya shook his head. “I’m fine—just muddled.”

“I’m deeply sorry the others got away-“ Ravi jerked his head toward the empty road behind Jaya’s car. “-but we’ve got this one at least.”

“And just who is this one?” asked Jaya. He tugged the hood from the lolling head. The face was unfamiliar and would have been even if Ravi’s stunner hadn’t deprived it of all expression.

“You don’t know him, either,” said Ana, disappointed. She turned her head. “Ravi?”

“No, Rani. I’ve never seen him before.”

Jaya sighed. “No. That would have been too easy. Well, let’s see if the Sarngin can get anything out of him.”

oOo

Jaya exhaled explosively and winced. “How long do I have to wear these bandages?”

The Asvin Suhrdam chuckled. “Until the wounds heal, Nathu Rai. A matter of, oh...Ram-ji’s good time.”

He closed his kit and winked at Mina, who stood next to her grandson’s couch, leaning a bit heavily on her cane.

“I’ll be back in three days to check up, so make sure he doesn’t slip out of them before then.”

“Rest assured, Asvin Suhrdam. I shall do so,” Mina assured him.

The Asvin kissed Jivinta’s hand and left, humming.

She gazed after him fondly. “Such a man. I do believe I shall have him to dinner Kistn’eve. He’s only fifteen years my junior. Might make a good match.”

Jaya refastened his shirt, the pain-killer the doctor had given him making both his fingers and his mind slow and clumsy. “You’ll have to ask him to marry you then. He’d never presume on a Rani of the House Sarojin—that would not be rita.”

“I shall ask him...if I decide it’s him I want.”

“Jivinta, you’re incorrigible.”

The old woman snorted. “And you’re not? Getting yourself beaten, stabbed-“

“Just a little gouged.”

“Just a little gouged,” she mimicked. “Idiot.”

“What was I supposed to do—agree to vote as they demanded?”

“Yes! Tell them you’ll do what they want—then don’t.”

“That would have been a lie. Cowardly.”

Jivinta’s pale eyes widened. “Well, you wouldn’t want to lie to thieves and assassins, would you?”

“I did lie to them.” Jaya shivered. “’Ranidasa,’ he called her. I pray he never knows how close he was to the truth.”

“Ah! Praying now, are we? It’s about time.”

“She’s terrified of me, you know.”

Jivinta Mina took the change of subject—and bald admission—in stride. “Do you think she has no reason.”

“I would never touch her against her will.”

“Who said you would? She’s Rohin, Jaya. She has made a covenant. She will take one husband as a lover and no others. She is not a woman to be taken lightly, nor will she take a man lightly. She is all or nothing, Gauri. Make no mistakes with her.”

“If she’s all or nothing, then why is she afraid of me? Afraid of losing herself, she said. What does that mean? I don’t want her to lose herself.”

Mina eyed him wryly. “Are you really that naive or are you merely pretending to be? No, don’t answer. It must be the Asvin’s potion making you so dense. She’s not afraid of you; she’s afraid of herself. She’s a bhakta, not an Avatar—not even a saint. Her will is strong, but it’s not inflexible. She’s afraid of her own weakness.”

Jaya let his exasperation out on a long breath. “Now I’m a weakness. By tomorrow I’ll be a sin. What do I do, avoid her?”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Then don’t. Talk to her, Jaya. Don’t let the mystery of her bhakti be a wall between you when it doesn’t need to be.”

Jaya shook his head. “The biggest mystery right now is how Ravi knew we were in trouble.”

His Jivinta smiled. “I’m not sure you’ll believe the answer.”

“Now you’re going to tell me Ana’s a mistress of the Jadu, I suppose.”

The smile deepened. “She’s Rohin. All true Rohin have a little of the witch about them.”

“How is it you know so much about the Rohin?”

“Ah, well. There is a little of the witch about me, too.”

Jivinta Mina turned and moved regally to the door, where she paused.

“There is a Rohin text: THE ONE SOUGHT. In it is a parable. The Parable of the Devi’s Garden. If you were to read it, you might understand Ana a little better.”

“And where can I find this obscure text?”

“In our library.”

She enjoyed his surprise for a moment then left.

oOo

Ana stared at the window. Against its dark, glossy panes firelight skimmed and slipped. Tongues of flame and tiny cinders danced, jinn-like, in a ghostly replica of the room behind her.

“Sri Ana?” Ravi appeared, translucent in the rippling window world.

She turned her head. “Please, Ravi, call me ‘Ana.’ I’m not a Deva.”

“Ah, but you should be! Sri Ana, Deva of Fearlessness.”

Ana laughed and shook her head, gesturing for him to stop.

“No, it’s true. I felt it. You have the Jadu—the Magic.”

“Then, doesn’t that make me a witch or something?”

“Jivinta Mina just told me all Rohin are witches.” Jaya came into the small salon, closing the door behind him.

Ana came to her feet. “You’re all right?”

“I’ll wear these bandages until Jivinta is finished courting our Asvin, but other than that...” He patted his ribs gently. “It hurts.”

Ana resisted the temptation to go to him—to offer comfort. Reflexively, she made a tiny stroking gesture.

A startled expression flickered through his eyes. “I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to the Vrinda Varma session, Jaya Rai,” said Ravi.

Jaya’s brows rose. “Of course I am. And I’m going to report our little...scuffle. I want to see if I can bring this Worker’s Coalition into open discussion—get some kind of reaction from the KNC.” He touched a bruised cheek gingerly. “Now I know what Bel Adivaram meant by ‘approached.’”

“Pardon, Jaya Rai, but what reaction do you expect from the KNC?”

“I’m not sure. I just have a feeling, I guess. Duran Prakash applies pressure from one direction, and these thugs apply it from another. Is it just coincidence—two parties with the same intent, using different tactics to make the same point—or is it...?”

“Conspiracy?” supplied Ana.

“It could be coincidence,” observed Ravi. “The link between the Coalition and the Consortium is not necessarily an illegal one.”

“I suppose it could be, but I’m not convinced of it.”

“What do we do next?” asked Ana.

“We sleep.”

Ana opened her mouth to protest.

“Tomorrow,” added Jaya, “is the earliest we can expect to hear anything from the Sarngin. Unfortunately, Ravi’s stun-fuzzy was a little too potent.”

“I have no regrets,” said Ravi.

“I have a few.” Jaya glanced pointedly at Ana.

She ignored him and headed for the door. “If there’s nothing more I can accomplish waking, I shall try to achieve something in dreams. Good night, mahesa, Ravi.”

The door closed behind her.

“I believe I shall retire early, too,” said Ravi. “I want my eyes to be sharp tomorrow, in case there are more of these WoCoa people in the bushes.”

“Ravi.” Jaya stopped him as he reached for the door handle. “How did you know we were in trouble? Or were you just on your way out?”

Ravi looked amused. “On my way out—carrying a weapon? No, mahesa. I came because Ana called me.”

“What do you mean—called you?”

Ravi considered that in silence for a moment.

“I was in the kitchen with Mata. Suddenly, I knew you were in trouble. I even...saw you—for a moment only—as if in a dream. I got a stunner from the lockup and I went to the lower gates.” He shrugged. “All was just as I had seen it. I stunned the one man—he would have shot Ana if I hadn’t. She burned the other. There is really nothing else I can tell you.” He gave Jaya a thorough once over through narrowed eyes. “You won’t be up too late, Jaya Rai.”

Jaya shook his head, contemplating the fire.

“That was not a question.”

Jaya glanced at him and smiled. “I know.” He waved Ravi away. “Go on.”

Ravi smiled. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” Jaya said and went back to his study of the flames.