Laldasa (10 page)

“I am in complete sympathy with Nadim-sama's concern for his family,” said the Deva, “but this turn of events makes it even more imperative that we meet with him. How may we accomplish this?”

“Come to Avasa. Or put his family under your protection ... day and night.”

She nodded. “We shall consider those options, sama. Tell me, have any of the threats against you been carried out?”

“There has been vandalism at several of the mines. The stream that feeds one of our largest reservoirs was poisoned—a heinous crime on any world. Water is more precious to us than even the ores we mine. To poison that resource is to toy with our lives.” The remark was accompanied by an eloquent glance at the KNC delegation.

Prakash half-stood. “Deva, this vandalism is entirely too convenient.”

“Is this documented, Pritam-sama?” the Deva asked, raising her hand to silence Prakash.

He nodded. “In an attachment to the document I delivered to you today, Deva. We have included signed affidavits from the owners and pit-lords of the vandalized mines and the local Sarngin commander, as well as vipics of the damage.”

“Vipics?” The Deva looked up from the notes on her screen. “May we view these vipics now?”

“If it be your wish, Deva.”

“How votes the Council?” she asked the membership. “Do we wish to view this evidence now?” She glanced down and counted the flashes of gold and red on her console. Looking up again, she said, “Do the nay-sayers wish to comment?”

Bel Adivaram flashed his courtesy light and was recognized. “It only seems to me, Deva, that these alleged threats against the Guild are an entirely separate matter from the petitions before us.”

“Not,” countered the senior Dandin, Sri Elui, “if they are the result of the petitions.”

“Does anyone else wish to speak to this point?” There was no response, and the Deva went on. “There were five dissenters. We will view the evidence now, Pritam-sama.”

She nodded to the Council courier who stood silently by, and the young man swiftly produced the Guild's petition package. Radha withdrew a data wafer and slipped it into her console. The lights dimmed.

The Council Chamber was suddenly silent, but for the minute riffle of fabric. The two dimensional image of three wrecked sandcats dominated the view screen at the open end of the curving room. The machines had obviously been ripped by a violent explosion and huge pieces of metal lay strewn over the amber Kedar sands.

“As you can see by the chemical analysis on your displays,” said Pritam after allowing the sheer devastation to sink in, “the explosive used is a relatively new compound known as Niraybar 4. NB4 is not used in any of our mines, nor will you see it on any AGIM associate's shipping manifest or inventory. This is because it is not yet on the market.”

“May I ask if you had this analysis done on Mehtar?” asked Bel Adivaram.

Pritam ignored the implication behind the question. “It was done at the Asra of Sciences in Onan. The Head of the Order, himself, oversaw the work. You will note that his seal accompanies the data.”

“Still,” persisted the Vadin, “a Mehtaran lab would certainly be more-“

“We expected that objection, so we took the additional precaution of having a second analysis done by Vedda Technologies. They confirmed that NB4 was developed in their own laboratories and is currently licensed for use solely by Ahurajas Incorporated, an associate business of the KasiNawahr Consortium.”

“But it could, of course, have been used without a license,” observed the Vadin Narudin, his tone neutral.

Pritam nodded. “I grant you that, Noble One. But the implied accusation by Prakash-sama is that we did this damage to our own equipment. We would hardly sacrifice expensive, vital resources to cause the KNC discomfort. Nor would we poison our own water. Deva, if we may view the next pic.”

Radha keyed her console and the image on the screen changed to show the further results of sabotage. Along a sparkling, clear stream lay the decomposing bodies of what had been a herd of goats. Between and around the dead goats were the carcasses of other animals that had drunk the poisoned water.

“That stream feeds into a reservoir that provides water for three settlements and a number of mining compounds. So far, there have been eight deaths. Were it not for these unfortunate animals, there would have been more.” Pritam swept a cold gaze about the chamber. “Does anyone honestly think we would kill our own people to discredit the Consortium? I tell you, Holy Ones, we would rather spend eternity imprisoned by the KNC than cause the death of one innocent person. We are not capable of this.”

The KNC comment light flashed and Prakash was on his feet. “This is an outrage!” he croaked. “You accuse the Consortium of this-this hideous vandalism? I've no doubt it was perpetrated by your own juvenile delinquents!”

“There are no juvenile delinquents in a mining community,” retorted Pritam. “Mischief is the province of the idle. Our youth work from the Age of Reason—boys and girls alike. They don't know what idleness is.”

“Are they saints, then?”

“They are not vandals! If they were, they'd hardly be capable of the level of damage our mines have sustained. Whoever did this had machinery capable of breaking solid hacovite beams and crushing wall bracing to dust. And they had a sandcat to haul that machinery to the mines they vandalized.”

“Sandcats can be stolen,” said Prakash.

Pritam uttered a sound like the breaking of a dry branch. “Let us suppose for one moment that a youth gang could break into one of our yards without tripping the alarms. I won't ask you to explain why they'd want to do such a thing. Let us also suppose they had the time to either find a sandcat rigged with the equipment they needed or load one themselves. Let us suppose further that they could get the sandcat out of the yard without being seen or heard. Now, tell me how they could arrange for it to be in two places at once. None of our machinery has gone missing, Prakash-sama.”

“Such certainty!” Prakash's voice was scathing.

“We are not the unsophisticated savages you would like people to believe we are. Our yards are well-manned—all day and all night—by trained Sarngin.”

Duran Prakash's expression changed with the fluidity of oozing oil. “We have not doubted your sophistication or your shrewdness,” he said. “We suspect you are shrewd enough to destroy your own property to incriminate the KNC and win your war for autonomy.”

“Our war? OUR war?” Taffik Pritam was livid. “No, Prakash-sama, not our war. We want peaceful coexistence. We want the authority to control what we produce. We don't want a fight. Not with the Consortium, not with anyone. We did not start this battle, but we will finish it!” He turned back to face Radha. “We don't need to incriminate the KNC. This”—his hand swept toward the screen—“is enough to incriminate them. Deva, if you would cue the next image.”

The next image was a close-up of the rear of a sandcat that had been driven straight into a mine entrance and was all but buried in debris. There was a word scrawled across the green haunch in thick, uneven letters: WOCOA, it said.

Jaya glanced at Bel Adivaram, but it was too dark to read his expression. He said nothing and Jaya said nothing.

“WoCoa?” said the Deva. “What is that?”

“We don't know, Deva,” admitted Pritam. “This is the latest bit of sabotage and it is the first time a signature has been applied. Since the only pressure we have felt so far has been from the Consortium, we must assume that this is their work.”

“Heinous lies!” exclaimed Prakash emphatically. “Our ambassadors to you have done nothing but attempt to negotiate. How dare you characterize it as-as threat?”

“How dare you characterize your threats as negotiation?”

The Deva waved them down. “Enough, both of you. You have stated your wishes, made your accusations, and laid before us your petitions and counter-petitions. I would like, at this time, to adjourn this session so that the detailed documents can be analyzed. That is, unless any member of this Council has questions they would like answered.” The query lights were dark. “In that case, the delegates may leave us to our study.”

Three hours later, Jaya left the Assembly hall with copies of all petitions, charges and evidence, a growing dislike for the Consortium, and a growing lack of respect for Bel Adivaram and Kreti Twapar. They could have said something about WoCoa. It had been the perfect opportunity to speak of it.

Jaya's conscience pricked him. You could have said something, too, it said. Except of course, that it was their experience with the Worker's Coalition that would have been at issue; if he'd lit up and divulged what little he knew, it would have embarrassed them. Wondering if he had committed a sin of omission, Jaya stepped out of chambers and into the Hall of Ancestors.

As fate would have it—or more likely design, Duran Prakash was waiting in the Hall with Ravi when he emerged from the inner chambers. He put himself firmly in Jaya's path.
 

“Nathu Rai! Jaya!” Prakash settled comfortably on the intimate address. “I hope you aren't finding this whole business too tedious.”

“Not at all.” Jaya eyed the older man speculatively. “I find it most interesting.”

“Really? I wouldn't think this sort of dry legality would have much allure for a young talon like yourself.”

Jaya declined to take offense at the veiled insult, reflecting meditatively that this was the second time in two days someone had compared him to a bird of prey. He said as much.

“I'm not surprised,” Duran Prakash informed him. “You have about you the look of a predator. The air of a man who is the guardian of his own best interests. Bad business this,” Prakash informed him, seeming to change the subject. “Kasi-Nawahr Associates stand to lose a great deal if AGIM can make a case for itself. You wouldn't have any KasiNawahr holdings?”

Ravi growled.

“No,” Jaya said mildly, “that would be a conflict of interest. My family held part of a passenger service associated with the KNC. I put the holding in suspension and sold it to my Uncle Namun.”

“Ah, of course.” Prakash nodded. “Well, I am not so fortunate. As Consortium fortunes go, so go mine. I only hope they go well. For your mother's sake, especially.”

“My mother?”

“I mean that were she to marry me and were the Consortium to ... fail drastically ... ” He shrugged.

Jaya made a barely successful effort not to react to the casual mention of marriage to his mother. “I'm sure the Rani's fortune would support you both well enough.”

“The Rani's fortune is tied up quite extensively in KNC holdings and sub-holdings. I wonder if I should encourage her to sell.” His eyes flicked briefly to Jaya's face.

“And how has my mother's fortune become so entangled? I would have advised her against any investment that was in conflict with our House's position of neutrality.”

“Well, naturally, these investments were made long before this case was ever brought to Council. The Rani Melantha had no way of knowing that her son would be adjudicating a case involving the KNC.”

Jaya unclenched his jaw with some difficulty. “Of course not,” he said. “Nor would she have any way of knowing that the person who encouraged her to purchase these holdings had something other than her personal profit in mind.”

Prakash looked scandalized. “Oh, I'm sure-“

“How much of her fortune is invested, may I ask?”

“Oh, I'm sure I couldn't say, Nathu Rai. I'm not privy to that information. You'd have to ask the Rani, herself.”

“I will,” Jaya promised, and left Duran Prakash standing in the middle of the Hall without farewell.

“I swear, Jaya Rai,” hissed Ravi, hurrying after him, “if he calls you a talon one more time, I will personally gut him.”

Jaya stopped in the sunlight that poured into the huge courtyard of the Asra Complex and considered Mitras's position in the sky—the way its glow was reflected in the golden dome of the Asra.

“Well, maybe he sees something in me I don't. Maybe I have talons and only hide them from myself.”

“He sees nothing in you, Jaya Rai, except a means to an end. The man is a vulture.”

“If he is a vulture,” said Jaya, “what does that make my mother?”

oOo

“Jaya!” The Rani Melantha jumped and spun away from her mirror. “You scared me to death! What is the matter?”

Jaya Sarojin stopped about two feet from his mother's glass-topped vanity and caught sight of himself in the tall mirror. Eyes dark and hard, he was as terrifying as her expression suggested. He hardly cared.

“I just had a very interesting conversation with Duran Prakash.”

The Rani's expression shifted to a point between wariness and amusement. “I didn't think that was possible.”

“Neither did I, but he had some information he suggested I corroborate with you.”