by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

  — CHAPTER 2 —

In which Jaya discovers that his new "houseguest" has dangerous family ties. 

oOo

Jaya was on the shaded patio overlooking Aridas’s artfully curried garden when Helidasa appeared in the doorway behind him.

“She’s wakeful, Nathu Rai.”

He glanced at her, only half seeing her at first, then focused on her face. It was set in almost prim lines.

“Have I earned your disapproval, Heli?” he asked.

“I’d have no business disapproving a Lord, Nathu Rai.” Only the words were meek.

Jaya sighed. “Yes, Heli, I have taken a dasa. And yes, I do remember that I swore not to. But it was against my will.”

Helidasa’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “How does one enslave another against their will?”

“One finds a stranger wandering, injured and without id, through the Bazaar, and one gets to her just before the Sarngin do. Your next question would be, ‘Why does one take the stranger to a dalali?’”

“That dascree in her palm be hard to remove,” Heli replied, admitting that her curiosity had led her to a close inspection.

“I know. I’m sorry about that. But the Sarngin were watching our every move. They followed us all the way into the dalali.”

She nodded, unbending a little. “She’s very beautiful. What will you do with her?”

“First, I’ll find out what she was doing in Kasi—if she has any family that can produce more id leaf for her. Then-“ He shrugged.

Helidasa glanced back over her shoulder. “Well, you’ll be hearing about that soon, then. Shall I bring her meal out here?”

His gaze going past Heli into the interior of the solarium, Jaya realized his foundling had come downstairs. She was standing near the door to the entry hall, looking out at them.

“Yes,” he said, “bring it out here.” He nodded toward the stone table set like a jewel in the center of a pastel mosaic saroj, a scene from the creation of the universe worked into each of its pale blue petals.

“And you? You are hungry also, Jaya Rai.”

Jaya smiled. It was more command than question. “A little. Thank you, Heli.”

The dasa grunted, satisfied, and went into the morning room. Jaya watched as she directed the other woman toward the mellowly lit patio. Anala emerged into the late afternoon sunshine, her gaze taking in the gardens in a wide-eyed sweep. The setting sun caught the deep copper hair and saffron gown and turned her to a pillar of flame.

Lust clouds, he reminded himself. Sakti illuminates.

“You have a beautiful palace, Lord,” she told him. Her eyes met his and retreated behind a wary screen. “Sarojin... That’s the Taj House of Kasi. Your father holds a seat on the Vrinda Varma?”

“I hold a seat on the Vrinda Varma. My father is in the arms of Tara-rama.”

“He is blessed,” Anala responded automatically, pressing her palms together over her heart. “Why am I here?”

Jaya smiled wryly—blunt. “It was your best option.”

“The others being?”

“The others being sale to the highest bidder or to a kaladan.”

“A what?” She stopped by the stone table, her attention shifting from the bird-filled trees to his face.

He averted his eyes and gestured for her to be seated, then moved to sit across from her. “A kaladan.”

She shook her head. “Is that some sort of prison?”

“Some sort of prison, yes... You seem to have a fixation with prisons.”

The woman shrugged, causing the soft sunlight to dance in the folds of her gown. “It’s what my brothers told me could happen if I was stupid enough to lose my leaf.”

“Where did they hear this?”

“On Mehtar, I imagine. They’ve both been here several times.”

“Well, they were misinformed. We don’t imprison idless people on Mehtar. We have work-farms and kaladans and large houses like this one that need das to run them as their masters require.” His sarcasm was not lost on his guest.

“You mean domestics?” She jerked her head toward the house. “You have them. How can you sound so disapproving?”

“Ari and Heli are family das. I...” He hesitated. He’d been going to say, ‘I don’t have any,’ but that was no longer true. He wondered if Anala understood her position. “Do you have das on Avasa?” he asked.

“We don’t call them that, or consider them that. My family has a large compound, so we’ve had to hire domestics and hands. They do become like family after a while... How do you know I’m from Avasa?” She shifted in her seat to watch Helidasa emerge from the house with a food-laden tray.

“Where else? Thank you, Heli.” He accepted a bowl of sliced fruit with a nectar sauce glistening atop it. “You know very little about Kasi, you had no cree in your palm—you’d have to be from an extremely rural area at the very least. But then you refer to Mehtar as if you’ve never been here, so the only logical answer is Avasa. Besides, your...coloring is...unusual, as is your accent. Anything I missed?”

“I have an accent?” Anala paused in the act of biting into a fat, red berry. “You have an accent.” She bit into the berry and chewed it thoughtfully. “Is it unpleasant?” she asked after a moment.

“What?”

“This accent you say I have.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s very pleasant.”

She nodded. “Yours doesn’t grate the ears either.”

“Thank you.” He studied her, considering what tack to take. “Do you understand what happened today?”

She snorted. “I was robbed. I understand that perfectly well.”

“At the Bazaar?”

“No. Close, though. On the avenue that comes in from the spaceport.” She shook her head in disgust. “Stupid. I was so freighted down in that winter cloak—I was trying to juggle my pack and take the cloak off at the same time. I didn’t expect it to be so warm here.”

“It’s actually cool for Chaitra.”

“Cool is fine—our summers are cool—but I was wearing an insulsuit under that cloak. My brother said it was winter in Kasi this time of year. It’s more like late summer.”

“Well, that entirely depends on your point-of-view. I suppose compared to what you’re used to, Kasi winters might seem rather mild.”

“I should have expected that, of course, but I’d thought with the elliptical orbit...” She shrugged.

He was surprised she understood that sort of thing and let it show in his expression.

“We’re not savages on Avasa, despite what the Consortium wants everyone here to think.” She hesitated, giving him a measuring look. “You’d be surprised, Lord, at how civilized Avasa is. We are an honorable people-“

“And a rebellious people,” Jaya inserted for the sake of argument.

Anala flushed, ignoring the remark. “We have much to offer as an independent-“

“Mostly a lot of trouble to the Consortium, it appears.”

“Are we not justified?” She slammed her fist down on the table top, nearly upsetting a bowl of stewed nuts.

Jaya grabbed the bowl. “Eat the kuri, don’t bludgeon it.”

Surprisingly, she laughed, then returned to her story. “So, there I was, struggling to get out of this fleece cloak, when four men pounced on me and knocked me senseless. All I remember after that is trying to follow them. Falling down a hill. Everything is a blur. Even meeting you, the dalali...” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what I dreamed and what really happened. All I know is, my id is gone—which I suppose means I’ll have to leave Mehtar—and my money with it—which means I’ll leave empty-handed.” She was suddenly grim. “I’m ashamed to have to go back to father like this. After all his talk about how competent I am.”

“Competence or lack of it has nothing to do with what happened to you, Anala.” He avoided the issue of her return to Avasa for the moment and asked, “What were you to have brought home with you?”

“Mining equipment. Nandin drill bits. That new chemical spray that’s supposed to neutralize manda fumes. Protective gear.”

Jaya nodded. “How much money did you lose?”

“Twenty thousand dagam. Damn!” she added, feelingly.

“Why come all the way to Mehtar for mining equipment? Why not buy it on Avasa? Surely they sell it there after nearly two hundred years of mining.”

She gave him an odd look. “It was sold on Avasa, up until about six months ago. Then the Consortium stopped its import.”

“Just like that?” he asked. “They stopped it?”

“Yes.”

She was telling him the truth, he was convinced of it—or at least she believed it was the truth. It was an accusation that the Consortium was putting economic pressure on the Avasan colonies even as it worked to stall their independence through legal means. If that was true, it could mean an indictment for arbitration violation.

He suspected guiltily that if he’d half kept up with the briefs for the upcoming Council sessions, he’d have already known about the import situation.

He shrugged the niggle of concern away and realized he was staring at Anala’s hands. They were strong hands with short, neatly filed nails. Workers’ hands. Her arms were bare (surely proving that even hot and cold were relative concepts) and unusually muscular. He recalled that her legs were, as well.

“So,” she said, “when do I go back to Avasa?”

Jaya found meeting her eyes very difficult, but managed it. He ignored the tightening sensation under his breast bone and said the words bluntly: “You don’t.”

She was so still, she might have been part of the stone bench she sat on. “I don’t,” she repeated finally. “Can you explain that?”

“That’s difficult. The fact is, Anala, you’re now...part of my household.”

Her eyes dropped to her hands. Mouth grim, she turned the left one palm up and flexed the fingers back, exposing a faint golden design the shape of the Mehtaran river lotus—the saroj.

“I see. What you mean to say is—or perhaps what you’ve been trying not to say is—you own me.”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Do you see that it’s not something I wanted? Do you understand that I didn’t have a choice? I made a decision when I was of The Age not to own das-“

“What are they, then—peris?” she asked, jerking her head toward the house.

“They’re family das. Their family has served mine for centuries. To me, they...they are family.”

“If that’s true—that you want no slaves—then let me go.”

“I can’t, Anala.” He willed her to look at him, so she’d know the depth of truth in him. “With that mark in your hand, you can’t leave this planet unless you leave it at my side.”

The pale eyes lanced through him, almost making him catch his breath. “You could take me to Avasa, then.”

He shook his head. “Not now, I can’t. The Vrinda Varma is just beginning to hear petitions in the case between the Consortium and the Avasan Guild. You’re from a mining family, you know how important that consultation is. At this time of year the turnaround to Avasa takes the better part of a week. I can’t vacate my seat for a trip of that length.”

She snorted. “Least of all with the daughter of Rokh Nadim.”

He was stunned. He tried to hide it and failed.

“I see Father is a celebrity even on Mehtar.”

“You could say that.”

“So.” Anala folded her hands in front of her on the table.

There was an entire discourse on resignation in that one word—in that simple gesture. Jaya was almost awed by it. No tears, no histrionics, no anger. Just “so.”

She met his gaze again. “I am part of the household of Nathu Rai Jaya Sarojin. I thank you for helping me escape another fate. What now, mahesa? What will my duties be?”

She was steeling herself. He could see it in the slow straightening of her spine.

“Your first duty,” he said, “will be to take twenty thousand dagam into Kasi, buy the mining equipment you were sent to get, and ship it to Avasa on the next freight shuttle.”

Clearly it was not what she’d expected to hear. “What? Why?”

“Because...because your family needs it.”

“Nathu Rai-“

“Kasi stole your money—and more. You didn’t gamble it away or lose it carelessly. Kasi is my city. I am only returning a small part of what it took. I can’t return the greater part. It’s not in my power. I can only apologize...for everything.”

“I’m...more than grateful, mahesa. You seem to have saved me twice today.”

Jaya grimaced. “Hardly. All I’ve done is contrived to make the disastrous merely intolerable... Anala, would your family be able to produce duplicate leaf for you?”

“I should think so.”

“Then, we can send a message over with the equipment asking your mother and father to appear with it. The Inner Circle should be able to declare your freedom on the strength of that. And your father will very likely be appearing before the Vrinda Varma to argue AGIM’s case-“

Anala was shaking her head. “Father’s position is very much like yours, mahesa. He can’t leave Avasa right now. He won’t leave unless he’s ordered to testify before the Vrinda Varma. The Guild needs him at home now, and there’s every chance, if he did come, that his life would be endangered. The same is true for my brothers. They’re too well known. Why do you think they sent me for equipment? No one knows me in Kasi and father said Mehtarans underestimate women. I’d be just another young dustbrain coming to Kasi for fun and pretty clothes.”

Jaya had missed half of what she’d said. “What do you mean, your father’s life would be endangered?”

She lowered her eyes to her lap. “He’s received threats.”

“From whom?”

She glanced up. “The Consortium, of course. Who else?”

“Anala, you know I sit on the Vrinda Varma. Are you sure you’re not-“

Her eyebrows rose. “Exaggerating? No, mahesa, I’m not. My father and the other Guild officers have all received threats. They’re also under surveillance. As I said, I was able to come only because I’m female. My father will send one of his officers to speak for him.”

“How do you know the threats are from the Consortium?”

“Who else would they be from? Who else would want to keep us in thrall to Kasi-Nawahr?”

“I don’t know and I’m not going to conjecture. Now about your leaf-“

“Could they send it by packet?”

He shook his head. “Bad idea,” he said. “Any mail coming from an Avasan Independent to me or any other Varmana would be intercepted and checked.”

“If the Consortium learns of the position I’m in on Mehtar, they’ll jump to use it to their advantage.”

“Then they’d best not learn. We’ll make sure your message to your father is well hidden among your drill bits.”

“And what will my message say?”

Jaya stood as the house lamps came on in the purple twilight. “That you’re safe, but unable to return because you lack id. That you’re under the protection of a Lord who will return you when he can. Shall we go in? I’d like you to meet my Jivinta, Mina Sarojin. I think you’ll find her a friend.”

“Two new friends in one day. I am blessed, mahesa.” She rose, pressed her palms together again, bowed and smiled.

He grimaced. “I’d rather you not call me that.”

She looked at him quizzically. “What should I call you then, Nathu Rai Sarojin, that won’t scandalize your family?”

“Jaya?” he suggested.

She looked at him doubtfully.

“Jaya,” he repeated.

“It seems disrespectful for a slave to address her lord-“

“Let’s not dwell on that shall we?” He moved toward the house, pausing when she didn’t move with him. Annoyance pricked him. “You don’t have to walk three paces behind me,” he said, without looking at her, and continued toward the house.

She was beside him when they reached the sliding glass panels that opened into the solarium, and gave him an odd look when he held them open for her. He led her through the core of the palace toward the wing occupied by Jivinta Mina. On the second floor she nodded at one of the uniquely decorated doorways.

“That’s the room I woke up in.” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “Is yours in this part of the house?”

“Yes,” he said, and gestured at the one next to it. “That one.”

A look at her very expressive face told him she hadn’t asked the question with the intent of offering to share her bed; a disappointment. Now she appeared to be rummaging through an obviously troubled mind for something to say.

“What, Anala?” he asked. “Speak plainly.”

“Nathu Rai,” she said, “I realize that as my...lord you can command me as you wish. But, I would beg you-“

“You don’t need to beg, Anala. Your honor is as sacred to me as it is to you.” It was an ambiguous statement, but it seemed to satisfy her. He’d be a liar to deny the kinetic attraction he felt to her, a hypocrite to protest that he would not act on it if the opportunity presented itself. That oath left the sacredness of her honor entirely up to her.

oOo

Mina Sarojin was enjoying a light supper when Jaya brought Anala into her suite. He hadn’t gotten a word out before her bright, raptor eyes found and fixed on the Avasan.

“Ah! You are right, Gauri, she is stunning. Such coloring!” She swung aside the carved wooden tray that held the remains of her meal and sat eagerly forward in her cup chair. “What’s your name, child?”

Anala, immediately impressed with the Jivinta, presented her with the respectful greeting—palms out, palms together, a slight bowing of the forehead to her fingertips. “It’s Anala, Rani.”

“Anala.” The old woman nodded as if she liked the feel of the name on her tongue.

Anala had the sudden impression that if her name had not met with the Jivinta’s approval she would have simply changed it on the spot. Everything about her spoke of royalty, from the erect posture to the long hair she wore like a silver diadem.

“And you will call me Jivinta Mina,” the old woman decided. “The distinction of Rani in this household goes to my bonddaughter. Unlike her, I prefer names to titles. So, what is the story of Anala? Are you to be a guest of the House Sarojin?”

Anala shot Jaya a fleeting glance. “A while, I think,” she said. “It much depends on the Nathu Rai’s kindness.”

“Well, he’s long on that quality. Your while here should be pleasant if it’s his kindness you depend on.”

Jaya smiled at his Jivinta. “Ah, and this is where I jump in with a proof of my kindness. Jivinta, could I impose on you to take Anala into Kasi tomorrow for some shopping? She needs to purchase some mining equipment and some new clothes. That dress and a torn insulsuit is all she’s got at the moment.”

Mina’s sculptured silver brows ascended delicately. “Mining equipment and new clothes? An interesting combination. Well, I’d be very happy to take our new friend shopping.”

Anala stirred uneasily. “Nathu Rai, please don’t trouble your Jivinta to buy me a new wardrobe. If I could have my insulsuit mended I’d be more than grateful. And I’m sure I can find the equipment broker on my own.”

Jaya’s reply was blunt. “Anala, I’m going to be honest with you. I know your desire to get home is fierce. I don’t want you to be tempted to try to return on your own. You simply wouldn’t make it. Not with that dascree in your palm.”

Ana felt her face suffuse with heat. “You don’t know me, so I won’t take that as an insult. I couldn’t possibly leave Mehtar with your money in hand. Besides which, I’m honor bound to repay your kindness to me. If I left without doing that, I couldn’t face myself, let alone my family.”

The Nathu Rai flushed and opened his mouth. Whether he meant to equivocate or apologize, Ana was not to know; chimes sounded from the com-unit at Jivinta Mina’s elbow.

The old woman glanced at it only briefly before returning her eyes to Jaya’s flushed face. “Yes, Ari. What is it?”

“Some visitors for the Saroj, Jivinta. The Vadin Bel Adivaram and the Lord Kreti Twapar. They say it is urgent.”

“I’ll be right down,” Jaya said and threw Anala a rueful grimace. “While I’m closeted with my guests, try to think of something I can do to merit forgiveness for that ignorant remark.”

“So, Anala,” said Mina Sarojin when her grandson had left her rooms, “Come, sit. Tell me about Avasa. Is the air as dry and sweet as I’ve heard?”

oOo

Jaya wasn’t particularly pleased to have government business brought into his private quarters, but turning away Adivaram and Twapar would be considered an extreme rudeness. To them the governing of the Mehtaran Commonwealth and the concomitant political existence was the center of their universe. To one who didn’t even want a political existence it was at best a duty, and at worst an imposition.

By the time Jaya reached the Court Salon reserved for the reception of Mehtar’s elite, Aridas had already provided his guests with refreshment and was standing by to hear his Nathu Rai’s pleasure.

“Channa please, Ari,” Jaya told him, and did not miss the oblique glances of his fellow Varmana. Their raised brows marked his indiscretion silently. He ignored them and followed a perverse urge to compound the social gaffe. “Oh, and Ari, you can just leave the carafes. I’ll serve.”

Aridas bowed slightly, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, then went to the kitchen to fetch his master’s channa.

“I wish, Nathu Rai, you would not amuse yourself at our expense.” Vadin Bel Adivaram studied the fluted stem of his wine goblet distractedly.

“At your expense?” Jaya asked, seating himself beside the opulent hearth. He chose a low, comfortable chair and chuckled inwardly when his guests both glanced toward the ornate and infinitely less comfortable throne he was expected to use on such occasions. “I fail to understand how Ari’s humor cost you anything.”

“Then you fail to understand much,” mumbled Kreti Twapar. “Every time you elevate a das, by neglecting to use his varnal name, for example, you demean yourself in his estimation. When you make it a joke between you, you demean yourself even more—impair your dignity, impair the dignity of your station. In this instance, you have included us in the joke.”

“I’ve impaired your dignity?” Jaya asked. His answer came in the form of two eloquent glances. “Well then, aren’t I demeaning myself even more by allowing you two to lecture me—a Sarojin?”

Vadin Adivaram set down his goblet with a distinct click. “Nathu Rai, demeaning you was not our intention. Think of us merely as a couple of fond old uncles bent on imparting their wisdom to a favorite nephew.”

“I’ll do that,” Jaya promised. “Now what brings my two fond old uncles out this evening?”

“You’ve read the petitions?” Bel Adivaram came right to the point.

“Yes.” That wasn’t quite true, and Jaya felt just a little guilty in professing that it was. He had read the Focus Document and scanned the individual petitions tendered by the several chapters of the Avasan Guild. Of the Consortium’s counter-petition he’d read only the synopsis.

“And have you formed an opinion?”

“Not one I should discuss.”

“I’m not asking you to discuss your opinion,” returned Adivaram mildly, “just to comment on whether you’ve formed one.”

Aridas’ return with his channa gave Jaya a moment to ponder his reply. Opinions, he didn’t have. He hadn’t read the petitions well enough for that, nor had he paid strict attention to their presentation in Assembly. He had leanings—an instinctual belief that if the Avasan miners thought they’d be better off without the over-lordship of a Mehtaran corporation, they were probably right—but nothing more solid than that. However, if the Consortium’s methods of dissuasion were what Anala claimed...

“Thank you, Ari. This is excellent, as always. No, I don’t have any opinions. I haven’t heard both sides in Session yet.”

“Well,” drawled Lord Twapar, “I’d say we’ve all heard the Consortium side often enough. It’s rather hard to avoid it when every social event seems to center around bringing Kasi-Nawahr officers and stockholders together with Varmana. The Consortium, understandably, does not want the competition. Independents are one thing, united Independents are quite another.”

“What do you think Kasi-Nawahr would do if the Vrinda Varma grants AGIM some form of legal status?” asked Jaya.

“Obviously, they’re hoping it won’t,” returned the Vadin.

Jaya glanced at him. “Obviously, but would they do more than hope, do you think?”

Kreti Twapar sat forward in his chair, clasping veined hands before him. “What do you mean by that?”

Jaya shrugged. “They have a lot to lose. I wonder what they might do to protect their interests on Avasa.”

“Are you suggesting something less subtle than lobbying?” queried Bel Adivaram.

“Subtle? I’ve had to avoid too many growling, whining KasiNawahr associates at social gatherings to call it subtle. Although, very few of them go far enough to warrant a sanction being placed on them. I was thinking of something more secretive ...and more serious.”

The two guests shared a significant sidelong glance before putting down their glasses in near unison.

“I think it’s time to come to the point,” said Adivaram. “The Consortium, as you suggest, is more than eager to maintain its hold on Avasa. But it is not the Consortium we come to speak of. We come with a warning, Nathu Rai. You may well be approached by...a group of people who are willing to do a bit more than whine.”

After a moment of silence, Jaya prompted him. “Approached?”

The two older men continued to gaze at him without replying.

“Am I to construe from that an unlawful query as to my opinions, or something else?”

He glanced from one closed, watchful face to the other, hearing only Kreti Twapar’s raspy breathing, the snap of flame from the hearth and the tell-tale click, click, click of Bel Adivaram’s fingernails against the arm of his chair.

What in the name of Sanat-Ram were they trying to do, frighten him?

“What is it we’re not discussing, uncles?” he asked. “Bribery? Threats?” He gestured around the room. “Bribery hardly seems likely, considering my circumstances. Promises of political promotion are equally ludicrous. Threats, then? Is that this evening’s purport of the word ‘approached?’”

Bel Adivaram cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how much we dare say.”

“Were you approached?”

“Possibly.” Adivaram glanced sideways at Twapar.

“You couldn’t tell?”

“We’re not certain what to do. It was so vague, so nebulous.” Twapar made a fluttering gesture of helplessness and trained sorrowful eyes on his Nathu Rai. “Nothing, you understand, that could be pinned down...quite. We wondered, Nathu Rai, what you would do in such circumstances.”

“I can’t tell you. I don’t know what the circumstances were. Were you threatened or not?” Jaya felt a tickle of irritation. What did these two think—that he had the Jadu and could read minds?

“Not threatened, precisely,” said Adivaram. “It was suggested that there are advantages to deeming the Avasan position unlawful.”

“Unlawful?” Jaya got up and moved away from the hearth, putting his back to them. “That suggests that the Vrinda Varma should declare the Avasan Guild asat.”

“That was what I inferred also,” admitted the Vadin. “Apparently, the Consortium is preparing an addendum to their counter petition that demands AGIM be declared a subversive organization and officially disbanded. And, of course, if AGIM is asat, it would keep the issue of their independence from ever being raised again.”

“Leaving all AGIM mining interests open for KNC appropriation,” murmured Jaya. How amazing are the workings of the political mind, he thought, and was grateful he didn’t have one.

“Excuse me, Nathu Rai?”

“Never mind.” He turned back to face them. “Who approached you?”

“They called themselves WoCoa—the Workers’ Coalition,” said Twapar. “They indicated they felt that any decision favoring AGIM threatened their jobs and incomes. They suggested that supporting the Consortium’s counter petition is the best thing for all concerned. They were quite vehement.”

“Vehement, but nebulous, eh?”

Adivaram scowled. “As I said, we were unsure of how much we should say.”

“Well, what did you say to these suggestions?”

“We didn’t know what to say to them,” protested Adivaram. “What would you have said?”

Jaya shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe I would have thrown the suggestion-makers out of my house. Then again, maybe I would’ve asked to hear more.”

They stared at him and he chuckled. “Did I shock you? Sorry. Just consider it a function of my infamous eccentricity.”

Kreti Twapar’s stare twisted into a grimace. “Your eccentricity, Lord Prince Sarojin, is sometimes inappropriate.”

Jaya raised his eyebrows in amusement, but the Vadin Adivaram misread him. “Forgive our irascible old Lord, mahesa. He’s becoming cranky with his years.” He shot his confederate a withering glance.

“Yes, Nathu Rai,” mumbled Twapar, with about as much contrition as Jaya felt for being eccentric. “Please, don’t take offense. I forgot myself.”

“No offense taken,” said Jaya blandly. “You see? My eccentricity can also be a blessing. I’ve forgotten you, too.”

For a moment Kreti Twapar’s face drained of all color—lacking even its natural yellowish tinge. Jaya’s pleasant laughter seemed to restore it somewhat, and he laughed, as well.

“Why haven’t you reported this to the Inner Circle? You are members, after all.”

“We...didn’t want to muddy the waters with mention of this WoCoa matter. If you’ve read the petitions, you’ve no doubt realized how complex this situation has already become.”

“Very complex.” You have no idea.

“So,” said Bel Adivaram finally, “you would advise us to say nothing of this before the Vrinda Varma? Or should we register a complaint?”

“I wouldn’t presume to advise you,” returned Jaya. “But I do see the point of not lodging a formal report. If I were ‘approached’ by anyone, I probably wouldn’t be inclined to complain to the Vrinda Varma right away. Silence can give instruction even to the wise.” He’d heard his father say that often enough. He could only assume he’d gotten it from Jivinta Mina.

The two old ones nodded and hummed and then excused themselves, leaving Jaya alone in the Court Salon. He wasn’t alone long—a grinning Aridas joined him, chuckling as he collected the glasses and cups from the room.

“Ari, you’ll burst if you don’t share that grin with me. What did my two ‘old uncles’ do to amuse you?”

“’Ay! Silence can give instruction even to the wise, he says!’” The imitation of Kreti Twapar’s gritty, wheezy voice was eerily accurate. “’How dare that insolent young whelp sound so damn sage? Nathu Rai he may be, Sarojin he may be, but he’s got a head full of air and ego!’”

Jaya laughed. “Air? Something as benign as that? I’m amazed. I would’ve expected they thought it was full of something else.”

Ari shook his head. “Someday, Jaya Rai, you should land upon those two old scoffers with talons. You tolerate them so well, they’re getting bold and toothy.”

“Why should I do that? I don’t care how toothy they get.”

“But I do,” chided Ari. “Their das know what disrespect they feel for you, mahesa. Heli and I have to put up with their foolish mockery, you know. It’s not easy.”

“Ah, and of course you defend me loyally.”

“Of course,” Ari assured him. “It’s our duty and privilege. But you could help by quashing them occasionally.” His reproachful expression twisted into a leer. “It’d scare them to eternity, mahesa.”

“And you’d like to be there to see it, of course.”

The leer was still hanging in the air when Aridas was halfway back to the kitchen with his tray.

oOo

The Rani Melantha Sarojin was curious about her son’s visitors. She made an abortive attempt to pump Helidasa for information, but got absolutely nowhere with the woman. She should have known better than to waste her time trying, she realized, pulling off her gloves in the front hall. Her late husband’s das were fiercely loyal to his son and imagined that loyalty extended to keeping all his affairs secret from even his own mother.

She paused to study the closed doors of the Court Salon, considered stepping closer to listen to the conversation she could just barely make out, then saw Aridas coming down the corridor with a carafe-laden tray.

She collected herself and headed for the grand staircase, hoping the das hadn’t seen her lingering there like a common snoop. It occurred to her, as she mounted the stairs, that her bond-mother might know why there were Varmana sitting in their Court Salon—Varmana who were also of the Inner Nine. She hoped Mina Sarojin would be in one of her chatty moods. With that in mind, she turned right at the top of the stairs and passed down the central corridor to the dowager Sarojin’s quarters.

The Rani was surprised to find that the old woman also had a visitor. The young woman was quite beautiful in a wild, vivid and somewhat alien way. Her dress was exotic but tasteful and made the most of her rather pale skin. She remembered Bel Adivaram’s seemingly endless supply of young female “relations” and wondered if this was one of them.

She was faintly amused by the two pairs of eyes that stared at her as she stood in the doorway of her bond-mother’s suite. They could have belonged to children caught whispering in the Asra during prayers.

“Pardon my intrusion, Mata,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your visit. May I be introduced?”

Mina Sarojin collected herself and fixed the Rani with a brittle smile. Her veined hands, still strong and supple, caught the young woman’s possessively between their palms. “Of course. Melantha, this...” Her smile swung to her young companion, warming. “This is Ana Sadira, a new, but already dear friend of mine. Ana, I present the Rani Melantha Sarojin.”

The younger woman made a visible attempt to free her hands from Mina’s to offer the respectful greeting, but Mina held them immobile, a frozen smile aimed at the Rani.

Ana Sadira nodded, embarrassed, and said, “I am honored, Rani Sarojin. The hospitality of your House is as the kindness of Tara-Rama.”

Melantha accepted the greeting and compliment with a slight raising of artfully painted brows and an even slighter nod. “You are related to one of my son’s guests?”

“No, Rani, I am not.”

“She’s a friend of Jaya’s,” said Mina. “That should please you.”

“Yes, it should.”

The Rani studied her bond-mother’s guest a moment more, then smiled briefly and left them. On the opposite side of the translucent curtains that separated her bond-mother’s sitting room from the anteroom, Melantha turned for a last look at the pair. The vivid young woman was staring into her palm, while Mina Sarojin remonstrated with her.

Odd. The Rani wondered if it had anything to do with Mina’s refusal to allow her guest to offer the respectful greeting. Bemused, she turned away and left the suite.

oOo

“Jivinta, may I speak with you for a moment?” Jaya stood just inside the curtained door of her bedroom, his eyes on the pool of light that washed the shallow bowl of velvet padding she slept in.

She laid aside her book and shifted to face him more directly. “Of course, Gauri. Come.” She patted the lip of the bed.

As if I were still a small boy with bad dreams, thought Jaya, and moved to her side.

“I like her very much,” answered Mina, before he could phrase the question. “She is not prim about spiritual things. You know how I loathe religious primness. And I think she is to be trusted. I should mention that your mother has met her.”

A terrifying thought. “How?”

“She paid me a visit this evening—I can’t imagine why, unless it was to see if I knew anything about the business downstairs. Naturally, she was fascinated by Anala.”

Jaya shifted uneasily. “What did you tell her?”

Mina chuckled. “The Rani is under the impression that our young friend is also a Rani—of the family Sadira.”

Jaya was not certain whether to be relieved or worried. “Not my cunnidasa?”

“I refused to let Anala offer her the respectful greeting.”

“That was wise.”

“I thought so.”

“So, she’s Anala Sadira, now.”

Mina’s smile deepened. “Ana Sadira. Ana of the Lotus Tree. I thought it was appropriate. I hope your mother doesn’t take it into her head to check up on her.”

“Why should she?”

“Maybe she suspects a wedding is being plotted behind her back.” The look she gave him was coy.

“I’m ignoring you, Grandmother.”

“Mmmm. But can you ignore Ana?”

“Grandmother, you are an incorrigible match-maker! The woman is Avasan—the daughter of a miner.”

“So?”

“So where’s your Mehtaran pride? Aren’t you supposed to be bringing me quality Taj-daughters of Mehtar? Dark-skinned Ranis, Devas-“

Mina made a rude noise. “That’s your mother’s job. Quality doesn’t come with breeding, titles, citizenship...or racial heritage. It comes with character. The daughter of an Avasan miner is just as likely to have that as any woman on Mehtar, regardless of her rank.”

“Her father is Rokh Nadim.” Jaya watched his Jivinta’s expression. It didn’t change.

“Yes, I know.”

“She told you?”

“She told me many things.” She paused, assessing him. “Did you know she was Rohin—a bhakta?”

Jaya was surprised. That explained why, despite her apparent acceptance of her situation, she’d dared to let him know his sexual advances would not be welcomed. He was relieved that he hadn’t pressed the issue. Even a member of a Taj House generally watched his manners with a devotee of the Upward Path.

Mina was watching his face with raptor gaze. “I hope you didn’t embarrass yourself, Grandson.”

He smiled. “Only slightly.”

“What do you think the Rani would make of all this...if she knew?”

Jaya could just imagine. The knowledge that the daughter of Rokh Nadim had come into the possession of the youngest member of the Vrinda Varma would probably be the most important piece of gossip Melantha Sarojin could ever hope to pass along. Since her current male companion was Kasi-Nawahr’s Legal Representative, and since that particular gossip would have the greatest impact in his quarter, she would pass it along to him.

“You were wise to give her a new name.”

“I try to make a habit of wisdom,” said Jivinta Mina. “What will you do if the Rani presses the issue? Who is Ana Sadira that she should suddenly be living under your roof?”

“Why should I have to comment? If it pleases me to suddenly invite a beautiful woman into my house-“ He shrugged.

“But not into your bed? Highly suspicious.”

“She’s in the adjoining suite. I can make sure the door is unlocked in case the Rani or one of her das should wander into my quarters.”

Mina nodded. “And if the Rani sees the palm of her hand?”

“That’s more difficult. I can’t, in good conscience, pass her off as a cunnidasa, knowing she’s Rohin... We could fake an injury to her hand.”

“And when that wears thin?”

Jaya opened his left hand and studied the palm thoughtfully. “With a little alteration, the dascree could be made to look like a raicree. Change the color, a line here and there....” He illustrated, tracing the faint scarlet imprint in his own palm.

“An unknown branch of the House Sarojin? From where?”

Jaya shrugged. “Darupur?” He named a city halfway across the continent. “The Saroj is a far-flung clan.”

Mina was skeptical. “Darupur? With her coloring?”

“Ah...one of our distant relations moved his family to Avasa.”

“I will relish watching you come up with a credible reason as to why any sane man would do such a thing. Just how do you propose to get this cree ‘fixed?’ Who do you know that owns the proper machinery...that you can trust?”

“Badan-Devaki?”

Mina snorted. “Those maggots! I said, ‘that you can trust.’”

Jaya feigned shock. “Jivinta! Such language!”

“Such people! Do you think either of them would keep that damaging knowledge to themselves? They’d sell it, just as they sell the poor creatures who have the misfortune of coming into their possession.”

“There’s a cree imprinter at the Asra.”

Jivinta Mina was amused. “Do you think the Deva will be persuaded to let you use it? What will you do, pose as God?”

Jaya was cornered and knew it. “The Deva Radha is not as legalistic as some of the Rohin.”

Mina didn’t say anything, but merely quirked an eyebrow at him. He knew the look well after over two decades of these sparring matches. She was giving him a second chance to make a better parry.

“If the situation gets desperate,” he said, “I can always take her to the Inner Circle for sanctuary. They could make her their ward. No one would dare touch her then.”

“True. They would likely give her sanctuary. They know the sanctity of a covenant.” 

“So, who is Ana Sadira?” asked Jaya, wondering how many points he’d made.

Mina shrugged. “She’s a Sarojin cousin whose grandmother, a native of Avasa, moved to Mehtar for reasons of health and married a member of the Saroj from Darupur. He returned the family to Avasa when...his bond-father died, leaving an estate to his only daughter. Ana is in Kasi for a holiday.”

“And her hand?”

“Ah, leave that to me. Helidasa can do wonderful things with her herbs and dyes.”

Jaya kissed his Jivinta lightly on the cheek, then rose to leave. “Well, this story at least saves the Rani Sadira having to leave her bedroom door open at night. She wouldn’t like that.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

She said it with such vehemence that he had to laugh. “Am I that repulsive?”

“Repulsive? You?” She scanned his face, her eyes mocking him. “Your father was called ‘the Golden Lotus,’ and you are your father’s son. You know this—you’ve heard it often enough. But Anala is Rohin. That is something you may not be able to understand, even if you try.”

Jaya smiled wryly. “You’re being mystical and sage, Jivinta. I hate it when you’re mystical and sage.”

“Phht! You love it, and have since you were a boy. When you’re my age, you’ll be mystical and sage too. Then you’ll see the other side of things.”

“I hope I enjoy it as much as you do.”

“You will,” she assured him. “Especially if your audience stands raptly in wide-eyed wonder, never doubting a word you say.”

“I doubt,” said Jaya. “I am simply too polite to say so.”

That was a lie, he thought, as the door of her suite closed behind him. He’d never doubted Mina Sarojin for a moment.

oOo

The room was dark, lit only by a fire in the hearth and the light that breached the vast expanse of windows and squeezed through the brocaded drapes from outside.

Anala parted them and caught her breath. From the second floor she overlooked the walls at the front of the palace—now a line of indistinct black—and saw the broad avenue beyond sweep away downhill, ablaze with street lamps. At its end, Kasi spread before the House Sarojin like a litter of vari-colored gems on black velvet—a tribute. Or like a jewel-bedecked pet tethered to its master by a chain of light.

Tethered, as she was tethered.

A smoky curl of anger roiled for a moment in her heart. She took a deep breath and blew the fire out, unclenching her fists in a deliberate stretching of muscle and bone. She pulled the drapes fully open and knelt on the window seat.

She focused on the litter of light and kept her eyes there until they blurred. Then she closed them and began to pray.

“Sanat-ji, Tara-ji. Please visit this, Your daughter. You know, O my Lord, what has befallen me. I have been lost, but found; enslaved, yet freed; mistreated, but kindly. I am frightened, yet comforted; alone, yet among friends. I do not yet see Your purpose in these things, O Lord, so I await Your guidance. Do with me as befits Your grace, O Most Gracious One, and is worthy of Your glory, O Most Glorious One.”

She was silent for a moment, listening; and still, waiting. Waiting for the Sign that her prayer had been heard. There... within three heartbeats, the warmth of certainty blushed outward from heart to hands and up into the very roots of her hair. She couldn’t recall a time the Sign, when asked, had not been given.

She lay down, then, to watch the lights of Kasi until sleep came.

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