Laldasa (18 page)

The Lord Twapar warmed to his subject, developing a sense of drama. “Surely,” he said with doleful passion, “they cannot have forgotten that their forebears traveled to Avasa on KNC vessels or that it was the KNC that supplied them grain to plant and food to eat until their crops were selfsupporting. Or that every last peg and pot of mining equipment was imported under the auspices of that same organization. The Guildsmen owe the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium much. Indeed, I am saddened that they choose such a treacherous way of repaying the kindness and generosity of a benefactor.”

He closed his mouth suddenly, oration apparently at an end, and sweated.

In the silence that followed the monologue, Jaya stared at Kreti Twapar. So did nearly every other Varmana present, except the nine Holy Ones, who never stared. All, Jaya wagered, were wondering what strong emotions had driven the timid but opinionated old Lord to such outspokenness.

Twapar, evidently unnerved at being the object of intense scrutiny, quailed and silently passed Oration to Bel Adivaram.

The Vadin scowled. “I find myself, for once, in agreement with Lord Twapar. We must not let our emotions run away with us. Freedom and justice and humanity are all mighty principles, but we must not be misled into seeing oppression where there is none, or label as oppressed a group of people who wield perhaps more power than we suppose. I urge this Council to caution. It is clear to me that the Avasan Guild could exert a strangle-hold on the Kasi-Nawahr Consortium that would ruin its fortunes. Their conception of free enterprise could easily become blackmail.”

Jaya exhaled, wondering what he was missing. Were there elements here he was failing to comprehend? Was he letting his emotions run away with him? Was he biased against the Consortium because he had come to think of the Guild in terms of Anala Nadim and the Consortium in terms of Duran Prakash? Was he incapable of objectivity?

He listened very hard to the consultation after that, not offering much comment and taking copious notes.

It was a long session. Consensus evaded them. Kreti Twapar doggedly insisted on interpreting the Consortium's position as self-defense and AGIM's as treachery, and Bel Adivaram stolidly insisted he could be right. The two abstaining Vadin joined them, and a small but vociferous core of concord formed.

It was generally agreed that the Safety Council proposed by AGIM was a good idea, but it was not agreed that the Vrinda Varma should oversee it. It was generally agreed that an independent Quality Control would be ideal, but it was advanced, on the other hand, that it was prejudicial to imply that the quality control measures of the Consortium were insufficient or biased.

Late in the session, Duran Prakash and Taffik Pritam were called in to clarify a few points. There were words exchanged between the two, at which point the Deva intervened and sent Pritam-sama from the chamber until the Varmana should be done with the KNC Speaker. Both men received stern warnings about their behavior.

Prakash was the soul of rationality and discretion after that. He even sympathized with the Guilders. Of course they wanted their freedom. Of course they wanted their own mines, their own lands. That was why the Consortium document included a provision for the Independents to be able to purchase the properties they were currently mining, farming, and living on. Naturally, the KNC couldn't be expected to sell the properties to its avowed enemies, so only those miners and settlers who were not affiliated with AGIM would be considered for ownership.

The Deva reminded Prakash-sama that KNC ownership of Avasan mining concerns had not been determined, and Prakash-sama reminded the Deva that the KNC had, after all, bank-rolled the initial exploration of the planet, paving the way for settlement.

Later, given a summation of Prakash's commentary, Taffik Pritam was outraged. “We reject the idea that we must buy our properties from the KNC!” he exploded. “We have already paid for our holdings on Avasa in blood. Our families homesteaded that land. We have sweated and starved and died for it—carved our graves out of its rock. And now they would have us pay a second time? It is too much, Noble Ones. It is too much.”

The Deva excused Pritam-sama at the conclusion of his remarks, then asked for further consultation. There was little of that. The Vrinda Varma seemed to be at an impasse. There was no way to even attempt to negotiate compromises—Taffik Pritam was not authorized to make command decisions for AGIM. Only one man had been granted that right and he was in hiding on Avasa.

“I don't see how we are to resolve this issue,” said Bel Adivaram at the end of a fruitless round of commentary, “without speaking face to face with Rokh Nadim. I feel we must request— no demand—his presence here. I myself will offer a team of Sarngin from my Zone to protect him. There are no better forces anywhere.”

“Oh, but there are,” said the Lord Mandal. “There are much better forces at our disposal.” His eyes quickly picked out the other members of the Inner Circle, then returned to rest on the Deva, who was its Head.

She nodded. “What say the members of the Inner Circle?” she asked. “Shall we assign the Balin?”

“Surely that's not necessary,” objected Vadin Adivaram mildly, amid the rustle of commentary that question evoked. “The forces under my command—under the command of any Vadin—should be sufficient. Under the circumstances-“

“I believe the circumstances may warrant the special disciplines of the Balin.”

“The Sarngin are well-trained,” offered one of the younger Vadin, defensively.

“Vadin Pangum, it is not a matter of training. It is a matter of doctrine. The Balin have the discipline of Orders. Do you suggest mere military training is superior or equal to that?”

The Vadin reddened. “No, Holy One. I would never suggest that. By all means, if the Circle feels this Rokh Nadim's safety warrants the use of the Balin-“

Sri Radha turned back to the Circle. “I put it to the vote. Shall we assign a team of Balin to Nadim-sama's escort?”

They nodded, each in turn—the two remaining Dandin, the three Vadin, the three Vasin. The last of these, Kreti Twapar, hesitated momentarily and seemed to consider declining, but in the end he, too, nodded his assent. It was unanimous: Rokh Nadim would be escorted to Mehtar by a contingent of Balin—the select Guard of the Inner Circle.

When the session closed, Jaya went quickly to where his coach waited in the circular court central to the Asra Complex. Ravi was already waiting for him there.

“Pritam is registered at the Inn of the Golden Lota,” Ravi reported as he helped his Nathu Rai out of his chamber robes. “Room 4-75.”

Jaya glanced down the broad, flowered avenue that led from the Complex. He could see the artistically lit facade of the Lota from here. This was luck. The Inn had one of the finest restaurants in all Kasi and he dined there often enough after Varma sessions to be considered a regular; his appearance tonight would cause no speculation.
 

“We'll walk,” he said and glanced up at the driver's box. “Join us, Kena?”

“No, sir!” said Kenadas in his usual tone of scandalized reproach. “I'll go to the Coach House, Nathu Rai, as is my habit.”

Jaya chuckled. Someday Kenadas would break down and dare to cross the bounds of caste, if for no other reason than that his curiosity would get the better of him.

Their robes stowed in the coach, Jaya and Ravi strolled to the Inn of the Golden Lota where they were seated in the opulent dining room with great ceremony and where the patrons whispered to each other about how scandalous it was for the young Nathu Rai to bring his das to table with him. They ordered their meal, then Jaya excused himself to go to the men's grooming salon, leaving his companion to peruse the dessert menu.

The salon was accessed by a broad, subtly lit hall that gave onto the lift-well at its nether end. A cross-corridor there led right, to the lobby, and left, to the back firestair. This was a fortunate arrangement. What was not so fortunate was that when Jaya reached the hall, a group of gentlemen of his acquaintance was clustered about the salon entrance chatting. He could not get to the lift-well without drawing their notice.

In fact, he realized, they'd noticed him the moment he set foot in the hall. Cursing silently, he drifted up to them, said “good-evening,” exchanged a few pleasantries, and confirmed that he would look forward to seeing them Bhaktar-eve at the Mesha banquet. Then he excused his way into the salon.

The outer room was not empty. A man stood before the walllength mirror, grooming his substantial beard.

Jaya fumed, took out his hairbrush, loosed his hair and began a careful currying. He glanced sideways. Damn all vanity! The fellow had begun to braid a lock of silver that stood out of the contrasting black. Jaya gritted his teeth.

“Excuse me,” said the beard-braider, “but is that natural?”

Jaya looked at him blankly. “Pardon?”

“Your hair, mahesa. Is that the natural color?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Ah. Very unusual. Very striking. Almost ... blue black, isn't it? I had to have this done.” He indicated the black curtain that framed the lone silvery lock, then went immediately back to braiding it.

Jaya glanced up into the mirror—his eyes on the door behind him. Maybe ...
 
A roar of laughter told him the corridor was still well-guarded. He resigned himself to patience, carefully rebound his hair, then got out his kohl kit and seated himself at the vanity bar. He then embarked on a painstaking refreshment of the Sarojin tiliq between his brows.

He was running out of things to touch up when at last the Bearded One finished his task and left the room. Jaya felt a wave of relief wash through him. It was rudely strangled by the muttered “excuse me's” that greeted the Beard's passage into the hall outside.

He sat, silent, listening, as the voices seemed to fade. In a moment there was silence.

Jaya quickly reassembled his grooming kit and tucked it away inside his day-coat. He was halfway across the salon when the door swung open and a young Vadin came in. Jaya froze and pretended to search for something in his pockets, his eyes on the swinging door. Through it he could see that the outer hallway was empty. He all but bolted for the corridor.

In the hallway, he strode swiftly to the lift-well and took the empty basket to the fourth level where it stopped with a swish of air brakes. The fourth floor corridor was empty. Jaya stepped out onto the plush turquoise carpet, then froze as a couple strolled arm in arm through the cross corridor. Intent on each other, they didn't even mark his presence. He moved quickly to room 4-75 and pressed the chime.

It took only seconds for Pritam-sama to arrive at the door—to Jaya it seemed like minutes. He saw the surveillance light go on above the chime button and felt a stab of nerves, knowing he was being watched.

The light went out and the door slid open, revealing Taffik Pritam. Jaya slipped into the room before he was invited.

The Avasan regarded him warily, ice-pale eyes narrowed. “Mahesa. To what do I owe this honor?”

Jaya pulled Ana's note from his wallet and offered it to him. “A message for Rohk Nadim ... from his daughter.”

Pritam's hand froze halfway to the note. His eyes penetrated Jaya's like a deep blue frost. The hand hovered, snatched. He opened the note and read it, then read it again.

“This is her handwriting,” he said finally. “Where did you get this? How?”

“Ana is safe. In my home. She's ... posing as my cousin Ana Sadira from Avasa.”

Pritam-sama frowned. “How did she come to you?”

“That's a story I don't have time to tell. I'm dining downstairs and need to get back. I'm supposed to be in the men's salon.”

“Why does she need duplicate leaf? Can you tell me that?”

“Hers was stolen.”

Taffik Pritam's face went pink. “She's yevetha?”

Jaya shifted uncomfortably. “Worse, I'm afraid. She's carrying a dascree.”

“What?”

“We've managed to doctor it so it looks like a raicree, but she needs her leaf if she's ever going to get home.”

“Get home? With a dascree in her palm?”

“No one expects an Avasan to have any cree at all, Pritamsama. With the proper leaf, no one would have any reason to check her palm. The problem is getting the leaf to Mehtar.”

Pritam nodded. “Not something that can come by packet. It would have to be carried over on someone's person. And that—the expense of passage-“

“Is not a problem. I'll pay it. Can you get the message to Rokh Nadim that his daughter needs duplicate leaf?”

“Of course.”

“Then that's all that needs to be done. He can bring it with him when he comes over.”

“Comes over?” The Avasan was immediately suspicious. “How is that? He would make himself an instant target if he were to leave Avasa.”

Jaya colored in embarrassment. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm not at liberty to discuss it.”

Taffik Pritam studied his face. “They want to kill him, mahesa,” he said at last. “They want to smoke him out and kill him.”