The Tower of Bashan (27 page)

However, years later Kunal conditioned her with a different type of pain, one that resulted from watching him slowly kill himself without knowing it. In many ways that sorrow was far greater than the sudden deaths of her mother and father.

Neither was as bad as this.

Though Kunal wasn’t really her uncle, he had been everything to her. The fact that he’d finally found the strength to regain his health, only to die because of her made it worse.

All I wanted to do was save Kunal. Like he saved me.

But I killed him. It wasn’t the opium. It was me.

Down steps they went, Lela audibly grunting as her legs slapped against stone. The smell of algae tickled her nose.

She opened her eyes. A laugh almost escaped her lips at the irony. The stairs near the docks had been what saved her once.

And now this is where I’ll die.

“Here’s good,” said Chand.

The two men released her and she slumped against the stone.

“Anything you want to say for yourself, Little One? Now is your last chance.’

“Yes,” she said looking up, surprised at the sound of her own voice. “I hate being called ‘Little One.’”

Chand snorted. He turned to the two men. “Do it quick and make sure she can’t be identified.”

“You’ll do nothing,” came a familiar voice.

Andrasta?

All eyes turned toward the descending figure. Sword drawn, Andrasta eased down the steps.

Chand seemed amused. “Ah, the Juntarkan. Do you know the girl betrayed you and your partner? We know who you really are. Andrasta.”

No answer.

“So you already know. Here to kill her yourself then?”

Andrasta kept walking, her gaze flitting between the men.

“I’m talking to you,” said Chand, his tone growing sterner.

Nothing.

“What do you want?”

She spun her sword in her hand, continuing her descent.

Chand swore. “Answer me!”

Ten steps from their position, Andrasta leaped, sword sweeping down as she descended. Lela’s limbs found life in the moment. She threw herself out of the way just as steel crashed together. Screams followed. A splatter of blood struck her arm. Two great splashes sounded. Lela put her hands over her head as Chand yelled a defiant curse. A wet gag followed, then nothing.

“Get on your feet,” said Andrasta.

Lela opened her eyes. Two bodies floated face down in the bay. A third, Chand’s, lay lifeless at the step closest to the lapping water.
I thought he was huge. Scary. She chopped him down like nothing.

Andrasta sheathed her sword. “C’mon. Someone will come looking for them soon.”

“Are you going to kill me?” asked Lela.

“No.”

Lela thought of all the people she had betrayed. Most importantly she thought of Kunal. “You should.”

“There is still time to change my mind if you don’t hurry up. Now, get on your feet.”

Lela wasn’t sure why, maybe because of the look on Andrasta’s face or the fact she had no facility to think clearly, but she obeyed.

Andrasta glanced down at Lela’s feet and frowned. “Can you run?”

“Yes. I don’t feel much right now.”

Andrasta grabbed her hand. “Then move.”

They sprinted up the steps and ran through the streets.

Lela managed to find her voice to ask, “Why didn’t you answer Chand?”

“I came at him with a drawn sword. Seemed pretty obvious to me what I wanted.”

* * *

Mira’s carriage ended its long trek through the city, pulling up to the gates of the palace. She had hoped the ride through Bashan might ease her anxiety, but in many ways it only made matters worse. So many would suffer should Minander get the war he sought.

The gates opened inward and her carriage lurched forward. It rolled past green grass, yellow marigolds, white jasmines, and purple orchids. She breathed their deep scents and tried to relax.

It didn’t work.

Pulling up to the palace’s entrance, her heart skipped a beat. Brahma waited outside in a simple chair with his servant beside him. He stood, wearing a troubled look. They bowed as Mira exited the carriage.

She hurried up the steps. No one would ever presume to call on her so late at night unless the matter was of great importance. “What is it?”

“We need to talk in private, Your Majesty,” he answered.

Mira looked around at the palace’s doorman and the guards posted at the entrance. “Everyone, inside. Now.” As the door clicked shut, she turned back to Brahma. “Tell me.”

“You met with Lord Rickar tonight in the tower.”

She raised an eyebrow.
It didn’t take long for that news to spread.
“Yes.”

“There’s no easy way to say this, Your Majesty, but I learned that he and his bodyguard are not who they claim to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you heard the stories circulating from the west about two people named Rondel and Andrasta?”

Mira laughed. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am very serious, Your Majesty. My men learned the truth while looking into Gulzar. Two foreigners, a man and a woman matching their description, entered Sagal days ago. They employed most of the village to create clothing, luggage, and the carriage itself that Lord Rickar rides when about the city.”

She gasped. “No.”

“Yes. Several of my men took further initiative and learned that nowhere prior to entering Bashan was there news of a Lord Rickar traveling in the lands around Kindi. Considering the way the man spends money, I doubt he could have gone unnoticed.”

“But this Lord Rickar is so . . .”

“Well spoken? Convincing? Rondel was once a great performer. A famous minstrel. He spent a great deal of time in court. I saw him once when he performed for your father many years ago. I should have recognized him, but he’s changed quite a bit.”

“Why would a minstrel turn to the life he has now?” Mira knew the question was foolish but under the circumstances, it was the first that came to mind.

“There was an incident where he lost the tips of his fingers on his left hand as well as the use of his voice. I’ll spare you the worst of the details, but apparently it changed him more than physically.”

“The scar,” she whispered, thinking of the mark on Lord Rickar’s neck.
And the gloves. He always wears gloves . . . always uses his right hand.

“If Your Majesty needs more convincing, the simple fact that there aren’t many who fit the woman’s description should do it.”

“No.” Mira’s stomach dropped to her toes. “Why would they put up this farce?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken with either. Do you recall anything out of the ordinary in conversation with them?”

Mira went over their conversations and slowly a pattern developed. She hadn’t considered the idea before because it had seemed so farfetched.
The jewel. He wants to steal the jewel. I ought to let him just so he suffers and dies inside the tower like all the rest who’ve tried before.
Her fists clenched.
But by doing so, I wouldn’t get to see him pay for his deception.

She could take solace in the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one fooled by Rondel and Andrasta’s deception. Her brother and the entire city also fell for their dishonesty. Her anger flared when implications of their trickery dawned on her.
All that I hoped an agreement with them would bring me is gone. I have no chance to save this city. The only positive is that Minander will need to look elsewhere for foreign aid.

“Brahma, how many men do you have with you?”

“Nearly thirty of my best are outside the palace’s walls.”

“Good. Send word to them that we’re leaving immediately. We have criminals to catch.”

* * *

Rondel stood at the half open window, peering into the gloomy night. The rain had started once again after a brief reprieve. It came down slower than before. He glanced to the left and right, and saw no one foolish enough to be on the streets.

He turned away and checked over the room for the eighth time, making sure he didn’t forget anything. Their things lay in two packs and in a chest at the foot of the bed, ready to go once Andrasta returned.

He paced.
Hopefully sooner than later.

Heavy footsteps pounded up stairs like a thunder from the deepest hell. Rondel spun toward the door, drawing his sword as the boots raced down the hallway.

He looked over his shoulder at the window, wondering if he could make a break for it. He opened and closed his left hand. The stubs of his shortened fingers pressed into his palms, reminding him that the speed necessary to escape would likely cause him to lose his grip.

Someone tried the door. A curse sounded at the lock. “Open the door, Rondel.”

“Andrasta?” He sheathed his weapon, closed the distance, and unlocked it. She barged inside, dripping wet. “You were supposed to come in through the window, remember?” he said.

“No time,” she grunted, pushing past him, and pulling on her pack. An equally soaked Lela followed her into the room. She stared with vacant eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“Long story short, Beladeva used her uncle as leverage. She informed on us to save him. Only Beladeva killed her uncle and was ready to kill her too. He’s got men coming to kill me and torture you for the knowledge to steal the jewel himself.”

Rondel’s mouth opened and shut. At least a dozen questions were on the tip of his tongue. All but one could wait for a more opportune time. “And she’s coming with us?”

“Yes. Where are we going?” She threw him his pack.

Good question. This changes my original plan.
“All right. I assume that when Beladeva discovers us gone, he’ll start sweeping through the High District expecting us stay in the area to keep up appearances. So we leave it and head toward the Low District. Then we find a place to hole up for the night. Come morning we go to the princess, tell her about the lies in the city that Beladeva has started against us, and ask for protection.”

“Works for me,” said Andrasta.

They headed downstairs, Lela at the rear. Rondel and Andrasta each took a side of the chest. He threw a few coins to the innkeeper on their way out to settle his bill.

Three steps out of the building, they froze. A dozen men brandishing spears and khandas walked toward the inn from the right. The men halted.

“Beladeva wants to see you,” said the one out front, scowling beneath a thick beard. He wore a white, collarless kurta and a simple, white turban.

Well, no uncertainty about who they work for at least.

“Four on the roof across the street with crossbows,” whispered Andrasta.

“And what if we don’t want to see Beladeva?” Rondel called to the man.

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“There’s more coming up behind us,” said Lela.

“Which means they probably have the back way out of the inn covered too,” muttered Rondel.

“Likely,” added Andrasta.

Always the hard way.
“All right. They have numbers and the better position. On the count of three, we drop the chest and run,” said Rondel.

“Run where?” asked Andrasta.

“Through them. I doubt they’d expect that.”

“True.”

“One.”

They dropped the chest and surged forward.

* * *

Princess Mira sat beside Brahma in the carriage angrily drumming her fingers against her thigh. They rolled noisily down Bashan’s streets surrounded on all sides by armed men. Several of her personal guard had joined Brahma’s force.

“I really wish you would reconsider coming along, Your Majesty,” said Brahma.

“Worried I might get hurt?”

“Among other things.”

“There are only two of them. I’ll be fine. Besides, I could say this isn’t the most ideal situation for a man of your maturity either.”

Brahma chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything more than point a finger and issue orders.”

“And I can’t do the same?” she asked.

“Yes. I just wonder if it’s best for you to stay away from something so public, all things considering.”

You mean considering they’ve made me look like a fool.

Shouts rang out. The carriage came to jarring halt. Her guards and Brahma’s men closed in to protect them.

“What’s going on?” demanded Brahma.

“It’s Gulzar, my lord. He’s got a few dozen men with him. One claims to be the prince.”

“Minander? Impossible. He won’t return for days,” said Mira.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but it sure looks like him.”

“Step aside,” said Mira swinging the door open. She heard her brother long before she spotted him.