Laldasa (35 page)

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

“Fear?”

“For her son's wellbeing.”

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

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

“And if she fails to dissuade him?”

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

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

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

“What if the dalali is implicated?”

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

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

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

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

“Certainly. You are her lover.”

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

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

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

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

Ravi wandered through the Bazaar with seemingly aimless strides. He had a gaily decorated bag of roasted nuts in the crook of one arm and munched handfuls at his leisure. He examined each colorful stall, tent, and wagon with interest, stopped at one or two and asked prices, haggled at one and purchased a blue crystal on a beaded chain.

At the third booth from the end of the main thoroughfare he paused again and examined a painted bowl of great grace and beauty. He flagged down one of two girls behind the kiosk's improvised counter.

“How much is this bowl?” he asked.

“This is a very special bowl,” said the girl. “It's for sale only to a very special person.” She smiled up at him through eyes that glistened like pebbles at the bottom of a stream.

“I'm a very special person,” said Ravi. “I have the Sight—the Jadu.” He tapped his temple.

She laughed. “Do you now? Show me.”

“I will tell you the story of this very special bowl. This bowl,” he continued, running his hands over the satiny finish and closing his eyes, “is from another world. From a place where the wind paints the land with its own dust. A place where the sky is a frigid blue bowl and clouds are red splashes of dust. This bowl is from Avasa. From Onan. Am I right?” He opened his eyes to see her laughing at him.

“So poetic! You're right. You are very special, indeed. The bowl is yours for twenty dagam.”

“I'll take it. Have you any more?”

She gestured with her head at the wagon that formed the rear wall of the booth. “In the back.”

“May I see them?”

“Surely.” She picked up the bowl and signaled for Ravi to come around the end of the counter. She led him up a short flight of wooden steps and into the wagon.

Ravi surveyed the small room quickly as the door closed behind him. Three men sat at a table surmounted by an ancient wickless lamp. Two of them rose and faced him.

He bowed his head respectfully. “Pritam-sama,” he said to the one man he recognized. “I am Ravidas, your servant. The Nathu Rai Sarojin sends his respectful greetings.”

“You can dispense with the formality among us,” said Pritam, clasping Ravi's hand. He gestured at the young man beside him. “This is Bala. And that-“ He thumbed toward the table. “-is his father. Come, sit and give us your message.”

Ravi took a seat across the table from Bala's father, who sat huddled in the shadows, sipping hot tea. He caught the sweet, winy fragrance of kesara. Behind him, the girl moved softly, making the wooden floor creak. She set a mug of the tea in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said. He inhaled the perfume and took a sip. “I am sent to ask about Rokh Nadim. Can you tell me where he is?”

Pritam shook his head. “No, but I can tell you he is well.”

“Then you know where he is. You can get a message to him quickly?”

“Yes.”

Ravi sighed. “Ana-sa has been beyond anxiety. I'm happy to be able to tell her her father is safe.”

“Can you give him a similar assurance? He knows of the attack on the Nathu Rai Sarojin. He is also anxious.”

“I must be frank with you, Pritam-sama. We are all anxious. There are few people as bold as Sri Ana. The mahesa fears she is a danger to herself.”

The man across from him was laughing—quietly, at first, then with less inhibition. He set his cup down on the table with a thump and guffawed. Pritam and Bala also seemed amused.

“What have I said?” asked Ravi.

“Sri Ana!” rumbled the old man's hoary voice. “That a Nadim should be ascribed sainthood by a Mehtaran! How rich an irony! You're a good man, Ravi.” He brought his mirth under control. “Tell us more about your bold saint. Is she well?”

“She is very well, sama, and in the bosom of our family. She wishes to know that the family of Hadas Gupta has been notified of his safety.”

Pritam nodded. “Tell Ana they were informed. They are grateful and send their thanks. But, Ravi, they are a mere handful. Reports are now coming in from all the settlements. Twenty-six families have reported members missing on Mehtar—wives, husbands, children. Forty-one people in all.”

Ravi nodded, empathetic pain twisting his gut. He had never been separated from his own family. “I don't need to guess what happened to them. The same thing that happened to Hadas Gupta.”

“Except that we know where Hadas is and that he is safe. We know nothing of the others. Not even how to find them.”

“I promise you,” said Ravi, “my mahesa will try. He's already gone to the Sarngin about it and may have an ally in that quarter. Could you get him a list of names?”

Pritam nodded. “If you think it would help, you shall have a list. We should be able to receive it during our next trans-chat home. That will be tonight.”

The young man, Bala, made an impatient gesture. “You spoke of danger to Anala. Can your mahesa guarantee her safety?”

Ravi frowned into his tea and shook his head. “The people who were sent to frighten the Nathu Rai Sarojin quickly discovered that the way to the Sarojin is through his Avasan ‘cousin.' I'm afraid that his attachment to Ana will be used as a weapon against him. I'm afraid that, through him, she has also become a target.”

Bala's father stirred. “His attachment? You imply that your mahesa is fond of Anala?”

“Yes, sama.”

“Do you believe she returns his affection?”

“I used a poor word, sama. One doesn't risk one's life for mere attachment. Have you a message for her from her father?”

The older man leaned into the light from the table lamp, the hair Ravi had thought gray and white becoming a curling carpet of garnet streaked with gold. His eyes shone like the noonday sky from a face the color of sun-washed sand.

“Tell Ana,” he said, “that her father is alive and well and in Kasi, and that he will not leave without her.”

Ravi rose and gave the respectful greeting. “May I tell her that I saw you, Nadim-sama?”

The older man chuckled, the sound rolling and rumbling deep in the broad chest. “You may. And take her my love.”

“And mine,” said Bala.

Ravi bowed and left, the potter-girl going before him. At the bottom of the steps, she handed him the bowl, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Don't forget your special bowl,” she said.

He grinned. “Ah, that would look suspicious, wouldn't it?”

She nodded, smiling. “We must not have suspicion.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

He blushed.

She laughed at him, not unkindly. “You are special.”

“What ... what is your name? In case I should need to find you again.”

“My name is Lila ... and I'm easy to find. Look for the laughing Sun.” She tipped her head toward the wagon, smiled at him, and went back to peddle her wares.

Ravi stared at the place she'd been, his eyes finally finding focus on the jovial, painted face of Mitras that decorated the wagon's curved door.

Lila, he thought. The laughter of the Divine. He glanced up at the real sun, playing hiding games with the clouds, then gazed past it to Something beyond.

“Smile on us, Tara-ji,” he murmured. “Smile on us all.”

oOo

“Father is in Kasi?” Ana started from her chair by the fire.

“Yes, Ana-sa. He and Bala send their love.”

“Bala, too? Where are they, Ravi? Take me to them!”

Jaya put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her chair. “Right now we're the only four people outside of his retinue who know your father is here. Do you want to take a chance on someone else finding out?”

“But there must be some way-“

Jivinta Mina leaned across from her own chair and laid a hand on Anala's arm. “Jaya is right, Ana. Your father's life is already in danger, and that danger increases every time one of us visits his hiding place.”

His eyes on Ana's face, Ravi said: “I'm supposed to return to get a list of the missing Avasans. I could at least ask if it might be arranged for her to see him.”

Jivinta raised her eyebrows. “In Lila's wagon? And what would someone like Anala want with an amorous young vendress?”

Ravi blushed slightly. “Lila also reads the stars and stones. I saw that painted on the side of her wagon.”

“Ah!” Jivinta nodded approval. “Now that's something. Who'd notice an eccentric old woman going to have her fortune read? When will you return to Bazaar, Ravi?”

Ravi smiled. “Tomorrow morning. They were to trans-chat the list of names tonight.”

The old Rani peered at him through bright and narrowed eyes, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. “So eager, Ravi? Am I to think you have developed a belief in the telling of fortunes? Or is it the pottery that makes you smile?”

Ravi blushed again and excused himself, claiming unspecified household duties to attend to.

Jivinta Mina announced that it was time to dress for dinner and moved with a sprightly gait to the door. She paused there and turned back.

“Hadas is in the Game Room,” she said. “You might want to hurry him or he'll miss an enjoyable meal. The Rani will be dining with Prakash tonight, so we can have as much fun as we please.”
 

She grinned saucily and exited, cane tapping lightly on the tiles of the hall.

Jaya grinned wryly and studied the pattern of the carpet. “I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of Hadas.”

“Jealous?”

He shrugged. “He seems to have replaced me as her favorite grandson.”

“That's ridiculous. No one could replace you in Jivinta Mina's heart, Jaya. Besides, Hadas is temporary. When all this is over, he'll go home to his family on Avasa. You'll always be here.”

He glanced at her. “And you? Where will you be when this is over?”

She stared at him, eyes prying at his. After a moment at that futile task, she looked away.

“With my family, I hope.”

“You could stay here, with us. It feels as if you've always been here.”

“But I haven't always been here. I've always been on Avasa.” She folded her hands together and pushed them between her knees. “I feel ... comfortable here, in this house with Jivinta and Ravi and his family ... and you—but your people, your city, your world—they're all so strange to me. I have no purpose here. It's not home.”

“Is home a place, then? I always thought it was ... something else.”

“It is something else. I just-“ She shrugged, her eyes darting away from his. “I don't have words for it.”