Laldasa (38 page)

The names blurred before Ana's eyes. Get inside, yes, but how?

oOo

She was distracted all afternoon, barely touching lunch. Immediately after that tense meal, she confronted Jaya.

“Take me to the Badan-Devaki,” she demanded.

“What?” He paused in the act of skipping a stone across the pond.

“I have to get in there, Jaya. I have to get into their files.”

He looked back to the pond and flipped another stone at its rippling surface. “It's that list, isn't it? You want to see if they've got one that matches it.”

“That's reasonable, isn't it?”

“Certainly. And dangerous. And futile.”

Her ire flared. “Why, futile?”

“Let's say you find the names of even some of the people on that list in the B&D's files. What then?”

“Then, you tell Commander Gar and he gets the people back to their families and puts Badan and Devaki where they belong—in prison.”

“How, Ana? How does he do that? With what proof?” He turned to look at her. “So, they processed Avasans, and we suspect those Avasans were targeted and we suspect some Sarngin are being paid to collect them. How do we prove it? We'd have to connect Badan-Devaki to the thieves—solidly and irrefutably—and if we wanted to get any of the bent Sarngin, then we'd have to connect them, as well. Getting into their files won't do that.”

“But it will locate those people. My people. Children, some of them. Younger than Hadas. Hadas has lost his sister and one of their closest friends to that lot. Don't you care?”

He gazed at her balefully. “What do you think? Of course, I care. But finding those people—and they're as much mine as they are yours—won't make everything right. This thing is like a growth, Ana. Like sour-wort root. The more of it we dig up, the more we find branching out in all directions. This goes further than Badan-Devaki and some greedy Sarngin. Somehow the Worker's Coalition is involved, and possibly the Consortium.”

“So, what then? We just do nothing?”

“No. We proceed, but cautiously. We figure out what kind of evidence we need and we try to obtain it.”

She studied him suspiciously. “You and Gar have a plan?”

He made a non-committal gesture with his head, “Nothing so definite as a plan.”

“Tell me!” she insisted, planting herself right in front of him.

He opened his mouth as if to demur, then said: “Gar still doesn't know you're involved in this. It's not that I don't trust him, exactly. I'm just not sure on what level he's committed to uncovering this ... conspiracy. Right now, I'm inclined to think it's just a matter of personal and professional pride.”

Ana shrugged. “So, he doesn't need to know I'm involved. Just tell me what you're thinking.”

Jaya sat cross-legged on the grass and signaled Ana to join him. When she'd dropped down across from him, he said, “Ask yourself something: If the thieves aren't taking money—or at least not much—how is Parva Rishi financing his high life?”

“He's being paid by someone. I'd guess Badan-Devaki.”

“Ah, but how do they know what to pay him? I doubt he's on salary.”

“Don't patronize me, mahesa. They pay by the head—that's the only way that makes sense. And the next question you will ask is: How do they know what to pay, since not every yevetha that's brought in is Rishi's work? And the answer is: The leaf that's being taken must serve as redemption tokens. The thieves get paid for the number of id leaves they present to the Badan-Devaki.”

Jaya nodded. “That's what we thought, too.”

Ana's brows arched. “Then you've introduced Gar to Govi?”

“It seemed important that I produce at least one informant, so I chose Govi. Govi described what he'd seen behind the dalali and that was when I had the thought that the packets being delivered might be the stolen leaf. Gar was especially interested in the weapons Govi saw. He thought that might give just cause to investigate the doings in the back alley.”

Ana's heart blazed with raptor fury. “That's it, then. That's the evidence we need to tie Badan-Devaki to the thieves!”

“We?” asked Jaya wryly.

“You're not going to leave me out of this!”

“For your own safety, yes. No, listen, Ana!” He laid a finger across her open mouth. “This is Gar's investigation.”

“Then introduce me to Gar and let me in on it!”

“I can't. I can't forget that there are some dangerous people involved in this. Someone was willing to commit murder to silence that thug. I don't know what they'd do if they knew Rokh Nadim's daughter was within reach.”

Ana shivered as a sudden realization struck. “Forgive me, mahesa, but if we're right about the leaf being exchanged for money, then someone knows I'm in reach already.”

oOo

Jaya had gone into seclusion with Mall Gar and Govi, leaving Ana to her own devices.

Unwise of him, Ana thought.

She played some card games with Hadas and Dana, then went into a secret meeting of her own with Mina, Ravi, and Heli to plot a clandestine visit to the Bazaar. She longed to see her father, yearned for home and family as she had once yearned for water while stranded in a sandcat during a red blow.

Yet, prayer and meditation had led her to know that her future was on Mehtar—not with Jaya, but at the Asra, with the Deva Radha. She was Avasan, casteless and, worst of all, Genda Sita.

She hadn't trumpeted her racial heritage, but she'd made no secret of it either. The Deva Radha and Jaya Sarojin both knew what she was. She was aware that if origin nor caste nor race mattered to a religious Order, it most certainly mattered to the Nathu Rai of Kasi, despite his talk of equality. He could not marry himself to the casteless daughter of a gaur miner—a Snowflake—even were he to desire such a union. She knew with certainty that if she stayed with him in any other capacity, she would immediately cease to be the person for whom he claimed both desire and respect.

Desire and respect. Ana found wry humor in that peculiar juxtaposition of emotion. A paradox, surely. “Laldasa,” he'd called her—his beloved slave. That patronizing endearment had wounded, but Ana was willing to forgive. She loved Jaya Sarojin and would freely admit it to him. She would gladly die for him—but she would not, could not, betray her bhakti for him.

When thought proved unproductive, Ana wandered into the library in search of something to read. She'd just seated herself in the window seat with a reader when she spotted a familiar bound volume sitting on the adjacent serving table. THE ONE SOUGHT was embossed in silver across the midnight blue cover.

She picked it up and opened it, finding a marker at the Parable of the Devi's Garden. She frowned. Who, in this household, would be reading a Rohin text? Had Jaya's curiosity about the Rohin Path prompted him to this?

She grimaced. No doubt he was looking for a hole in the fabric of her faith. She chastised herself immediately for the petty thought, knowing it was motivated by her own sense of outrage that the color of her skin or the place of her birth mandated that he see her as an inferior.

“Ah! Here you are!” The cool female voice came from the open doorway.

Ana glanced up to see the Rani gazing at her, her smooth face adorned in its customary impenetrable expression. The older woman closed the door behind her and glided into the room on a breeze laden with exotic perfume. She came to the center of the soft mulberry and cream carpet that lay before the window seat and faced Ana with icy hauteur.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

Ana froze, barely even blinking. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You are obviously not a Rani of the House Sadira—if such a House even exists ... are you?”

And closed the little book and clutched it tightly in her hands. “No, Rani. I am not.”

Melantha Sarojin's perfect brows rose in mute surprise. She recovered her aplomb swiftly and pressed on. “You're not a Rani at all, are you?”

“No. How did you know?”

“A friend of mine told me that my son was championing the cause of Avasan yevetha. He happened to mention that Avasans, when deprived of their leaf become instantly yevetha because they have no cree. Though you are Avasan, you have a cree. A dascree, unless I'm very much mistaken.”

Ana shook her head. “You're not mistaken, Rani.”

“I thought as much.”

The Rani seated herself in a chair across from Ana, smoothing her pantalons.

Ana had the strong impression she'd sat down because her legs were shaking. She watched as the Rani took a moment to adjust the impressive collection of rings on her delicate fingers. Their eyes collided as the older woman raised hers to Ana's face.

“Why didn't you lie? You could have told me that since your family was originally from Mehtar you had a raicree.”

“I may not be a Rani, but I am Rohin. That much is true. I won't lie to you. I hate lies. I've disliked this subterfuge. I was resigned to being a dasa in this household. Your son wouldn't accept that. He felt it was unjust. This is the way he ... dealt with the injustice.”

“How, then, did you get your dascree?”

Ana sighed. “I came to Mehtar to buy mining equipment unavailable on Avasa. On my first day in Kasi, I was attacked by a band of thieves. They took my money and my leaf and left me lying in a woodland near the Bazaar. Jaya happened to see me stumbling across the grounds and came to my aid. If he'd been two seconds later the Sarngin would have had me. As it was, they knew I was yevetha. They followed us. Jaya had to take me to a dalali for processing while they watched to make sure it was done.”

“So, you became his cunnidasa.”

Ana's abdomen twisted into a knot. Her cheeks flamed. “No, Rani. Your son has never demanded it. He's made me the keeper of my own honor.”

“Hmm. And your Avasan friend—he's also das?”

“Yes.”

The Rani nodded. “So now you've gotten my son embroiled in trying to keep any more Avasans from falling into the evil clutches of some dalali.”

Ana struggled to control her temper in the face of Melantha Sarojin's facetious tone.

“It's not the dalali I'm worried about, Rani. It's what becomes of them when they leave it. Jaya allied himself with us willingly. We didn't ‘embroil' him in anything.”

“Us?” repeated the Rani. “I think Jaya allied himself to you. I must give you credit. I've never seen him so completely beguiled by anyone. Or should I say ‘enchanted?' I've heard things about you Rohin ... ” The Rani was studying her again.

Is that it then? Ana thought, when the other woman fell silent. Is she content to believe I'm just an unfortunate witch?

She was not. “So then, if you are not the Rani Ana Sadira, who are you?” Her eyes were sharp, demanding.

Ana didn't answer.

“Well?”

“No one of any importance.”

“If you are important to my son, for whatever reason, you are important to me. Who are you? What is your name?”

Ana licked her lips. How parched they were.

“Anala Nadim,” she said.

The Rani shook her head, an odd expression twisting her mouth, then, incredibly, she began to laugh. It was one of those laughs Ana had read about in legend—pure and high and flute-like—and she wondered if one could be born with such a laugh or had to cultivate it. When Melantha Sarojin had gotten her mirth under control, she sat back in her chair and gazed at Ana through dark, glistening eyes.

“You are Rokh Nadim's daughter?”

“Yes.”

“What an incredible vise that must have put Jaya in politically!”

“And morally,” observed Ana. “That's why I couldn't be Anala Nadim. If anyone knew I was in his household, they'd think he was biased toward AGIM.”

The Rani chuckled. “But, of course, he wasn't, was he?”

“No. But he was trying to help me out of my personal predicament—along with the fifty some odd other Avasans who have disappeared in Kasi in the last several months.”

The Rani was visibly stunned. “As many as that?”

“More, by now.”

“That's why he was beaten—because someone doesn't want their dirty little business disrupted?”

“No. That was a result of the clash between the Miner's Guild and the KNC.”

“Was it? My friend says not and, frankly, I have more reason to trust his word than I do yours.” She studied Ana speculatively. “This has suddenly gotten very interesting. Do you know who Duran Prakash is?”

Ana's eyes shifted involuntarily aside. “He's the KNC legal representative.”

“He's also my ... lover. Do you have any idea what he might do with this information?”

Ana knew her face must be as pale as Mehtar's three moons. “Yes.”