He snorted. “Better, but not good enough.” He paused. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready when the time calls for it. I promise.”
I hope so, she thought, choosing not to voice her concerns. Her frustration at his failure for getting them inside the tower grew each day. However, the last thing she wanted at the moment was to add to his anxiety.
They ate in relative silence for several minutes, both going about the task with a workmanlike quality.
Andrasta shifted on the hard, grime-coated floor, eyes moving about their small, one-room residence while trying to get comfortable. “Why can’t we get a nicer place again? We’ve got more than enough money from our previous jobs?”
“Wouldn’t fit our characters at the tower. As it is, most people picking up trash don’t even have a place to stay. They live on the streets. We have to keep up appearances in the off chance someone follows us after work one day. If you want a nicer place to lay your head, then think of a cover that fits us staying in that sort of place.”
A skittering beetle trailed a path through the dirt on the floor. She stamped it out with her boot. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Though she had been more than angry with Rondel for his lack of progress, she could see him putting in the effort. However, the events from Erba still obviously hung over him. It had been her hope that the distraction of the tower would ease some of his pain. So far, her hope had not flourished.
The weight of Erba is making it more difficult for him to concentrate on the task at hand.
She knew she was being selfish by nagging Rondel and pushing him to come up with a plan faster, but she couldn’t stop. Her need to get the jewel and return to Juntark bored down on her.
She gestured to the notes on the floor. “Any more progress on the clues?”
“Some. As before, I feel pretty confident about the second guardian being a snake of some sort. We might be able to use the flute there like a charmer.”
“And if not?”
“I’ve got a couple ideas. So long as I can find a decent alchemist. Regardless, it is obvious the fourth guardian will require the flute. ‘An impenetrable defense cannot be breached unless the true music of the flutist is reached.’”
“But we still don’t know what music you’ll need to play.”
He shrugged. “No. I’m assuming something will be made available to us once inside. Otherwise, I guess I’ll just have to play something I think is fitting.”
“I don’t like the idea of us guessing.”
“Neither do I, but we’re going to have to. The library in Zafar held the most clues about the tower in all of Untan and I searched it top to bottom. There may be some other small hints here and there elsewhere in the world, but we could spend years searching for them and still may not end up any better off than we already are.”
Andrasta thought about the state of her homeland and her father. The longer I take to get the jewel, the worse the land will become.
“I can’t wait years.”
He frowned. “I know. I’m sorry, but this is all we have. The best thing we can do, is keep reviewing the information we have so we’ll hopefully be able to think more quickly of a solution once we actually see each of the five guardians.”
She sighed. They spent months in Zafar while Rondel researched the documents in the city’s library. Considering all they had gone through before and afterward, she had hoped they would be in a better position for success.
It’d be nice if we at least knew what the first guardian was.
CHAPTER 3
Lela met Chand at an open alleyway near the market. He greeted her by throwing a bag over her head, tossing her over his shoulder, and placing her in the back of a wagon. A hundred worried thoughts ran through her head as her breath caught in her throat. She almost voiced one, just a simple question, but Chand quickly snapped.
“Say nothing. Do nothing.”
She obeyed. Since her stunt with the banker several weeks ago, she carried out all of Chand’s instructions exactly as told.
Could this be the day?
They rode for hours, twisting and turning at odd intervals, stopping at random points, even switching wagons three times. Lela lost her bearings, yet still they rode.
Eventually, the wagon stopped. Someone lifted her out of the bed, and carried her inside. Up and down stairs she bounced before entering a large, open space. She gauged the size from the ripple of echoes brought on by each footfall.
Lowered to her feet, she grinned under the sack.
This is it. I’m finally going to be accepted into the organization. I’ll be able to afford better food and clothes. A safer place to stay. Most importantly, a doctor for Kunal.
Hushed whispers sounded. The tones held an edge. An odd scraping noise came next as did the smell of old blood and a hint of smoke. She swallowed as another thought struck her. Not accepted. Silenced. They’re going to kill me and burn my body until there’s nothing left. Have I done something wrong? The fisherman. He must have told someone about the gold and it got back to Beladeva.
The sack came off her head, immersing her in a sea of light. She blinked rapidly, palms coming up to rub her eyes. Slowly, her vision cleared. Oil lamps on metal posts encircled her. More lamps hung from chains overhead. Beyond the lamps was shadow.
“Do you know why you’re here?” came a question from the blackness. She saw no one, but recognized Chand’s voice.
“I have a couple of ideas.”
“Such as.”
Lela hesitated, but realized that this could be a test. “It could be that I’m under scrutiny for something that I did to displease the organization. Another is that I’ve been accepted.”
“I see.”
Silence hung in the air as Chand chose not to elaborate.
Scrutiny it is then. She bit her lip. Be careful, Lela. You promised you would take care of Kunal.
“Do you understand what it means to be part of our organization?” asked another voice, one softer than Chand’s. It was a voice not used to rising above a conversational tone.
“I think I do,” said Lela.
“Tell me.”
“It means respect from those both inside and outside of the organization. It means security, power, and money.” She paused, realizing that she was saying what membership meant to her, not what it meant to the organization itself. “It means loyalty and devotion. It means submissiveness and a level of understanding that no matter who you are, you are not above the organization. You do what is best for the organization first, best for you second.”
The voice grunted. “Well spoken from someone so young. Chand said you had potential. I’m inclined to agree.” Footsteps approached from her right. “You did make one mistake though. There is one person who is above the organization and that’s because without him the organization doesn’t exist.”
A figure stepped into the light. He wore a turban so black that it shimmered. At the center rested a jewel of jade that matched the man’s green eyes. Crow’s feet touched the corners of those eyes, a thin nose between them. Thinner lips lay beneath a wisp of a mustache, facial hair one might expect on a boy rather than the man in charge of Bashan’s largest crime syndicate.
He wore white churidars and a matching sherwani embroidered with a mix of silver and gold patterns. Beladeva smiled. “And that person of course, is me.”
Lela’s jaw dropped. Her stomach sank so low she thought her toenails might scrape her belly button. Beladeva was rarely seen, and then only by those of high importance within the city.
Instinctively, she fell to her knees, pressing her forehead to the stone.
“Though I appreciate the gesture, I prefer to look people in the eyes. Get up.”
She rose quickly.
“Good,” he said. “Now, one more question. Do you have any reason for not joining us? If so, now is the time to speak.”
Joining Beladeva’s organization had never been a dream of Lela’s. She could think of dozens of rea
sons not to do it. And one overriding reason to join.
To survive.
“No, sir. I want to join, badly.”
“Then you just did.” He frowned. “You look disappointed.”
“It’s not that. I just thought there might be something more. Like a ceremony.”
He laughed. “This isn’t a cult. I say you’re in, you’re in. That’s all there is. Now, let’s get on with things. I have a very specific role for you. In a few moments, Chand will take you to a local bathhouse where you will be cleaned, scrubbed, debugged, and made presentable. People can say all they want about whores, but there are no cleaner persons in all of Bashan. A dirty whore is a hungry whore.”
Her eyes bugged. “Do you mean I’m supposed to. . . .” her voice trailed off, unable even to finish the sentence.
Beladeva waved a hand dismissively. “No, nothing like that. From what Chand has told me, it would be a waste of your talents to force such a role on you. Besides, I have women and young boys specifically trained for those tasks.” His eyes narrowed. “However, if I ever come to you with such a request, you will do it without hesitation. Understood?”
She nodded, hoping that day would never come.
“Good. Prince Minander will be throwing the annual royal party to honor the Raivataka in a couple of weeks. I need someone to serve his sister personally from now until then. Perhaps afterward as well.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. I want you to tell me everything Princess Mira does. Minander’s power is growing, but Mira is not completely out of the picture. I want to know who she meets with. Who she talks to. What she reads. Everything. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. But why the princess? And why me?”
“The princess because I said so. I picked you because any other attempt I’ve made to place someone close to her has failed. I thought I’d try someone much different in both age and demeanor.” He paused. “I’ll be very upset if you fail as well.”
Lela swallowed hard.
“Good. You grasp my meaning.” He clasped his hands. “Chand will fill you in on the rest.”
Before she could respond, big hands latched under each of her arms, lifted her, and spun her around. Chand carried her out of the circle of light and into the darkness.
I’m alive. Not only am I alive, but I was found worthy enough to be given a special task. Nevermind the part of having to spy on the princess and win her trust. Nevermind the fact that one day I might be tasked to do disgusting things with strangers. For now, I have a way to help Kunal. And maybe once he gets that help, he can begin tailoring again.
Despite the dark room they walked, Chand set her down and located a door handle. He turned the latch. A flood of sunlight spilled into the space, searing Lela’s eyes once again.
Chand hurried her through several alleys and narrow streets. “You’ve been given a great opportunity.”
“I know.” She paused. “You don’t think I deserve it, do you?”
“No. I think you’re still too headstrong. You still want to do what’s best for you. I don’t like to be wrong, but in this case, I want you to prove to me I am. Am I clear?”
“Yes.”
“You’re also to give up your other activities.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t take me for a fool. I know you’ve been searching the city for someone. What I don’t know is who you’re searching for.”
Lela tensed. Since that day in the alley, she had asked around for the two foreigners who helped her. She knew the task was not only foolish, but a waste of time. However, something compelled her to find and thank them. Few people had ever done something kind for her without expecting something in return.
He chuckled. “I’ll let you have that little secret. But it ends. You must be available to me and Beladeva at all times.”
“I will.”
“Good. We’re here.”
They stopped in front of a building faced with black marble. No sign hung out front. It did not need one. Lela had never visited the abode of the Night Dancers, but she knew the stories. They held the reputation of being not only the most expensive prostitutes, but also the most beautiful and most skilled in all of Bashan.
Chand knocked. A bent-back older woman wearing a simple black sari answered the door. She squinted through beady eyes and pursed her lips, looking like a dead fish. “This the one?”
“Yes.”
The woman looked Lela over like she was selecting a fresh mango from the market. “Very well. Just her looks, right?”
“Beladeva has no current plans for her to enter the trade.”
The old woman grunted. “A wise decision. Our boys have more meat on their bones than she does. Well, come inside then. By the look of things, we’ve got a lot of work to do. First things first. A bath.” She paused, sniffing the air. “Perhaps two.”
* * *
Lela walked down the street to her apartment with a more acute sense of smell. She knew residents dumped overflowing chamber pots into the street drains or among the laziest of tenants, right out their windows so the contents splattered to the paved sidewalks until the next rain washed them away. She knew that the remains of vegetables and meats too rotted for even the poor to force down sat clumped against the sides of buildings or jammed into dank alleys. She knew the decaying corpse of a yellow retriever sat in the middle of the street, surrounded by buzzing flies, scurrying rats, and crawling maggots.
But what she had only known by sight before, she now knew by smell. Her own stench no longer disguised the scents of the neighborhood. She had to choke down the desire to gag.
People stared as she passed. At first she worried someone might try to rob her, not recognizing her as the poor little girl from the morning. But the opposite held true. When she turned to meet someone’s eye, they would quickly look away and bow. The woman at the bathhouse had told her to expect as much when she pinned a small silver broach on her chest.
Beladeva’s sigil. Only someone of a rival criminal organization would dare harm me now.
She climbed the stairs to her building and entered the apartment, pleased that Kunal had not left the door open again. She found him dressed and staring out their lone window with hands clasped behind his back. He squeezed them tightly, but they still shook.
Withdrawals. Good. That means he hasn’t sold himself again.
He turned slowly. Sweat beaded his forehead. A deep sadness lined his face.
That’s not what I expected.
He noticed the sigil and his frown deepened. “So, you’ve been working for Beladeva and now you’re official.”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me.”
“I told you I had a job that could lead to big things.”
“Or death. You should not have gone to work for him.”
Anger flashed. Joining Beladeva’s organization wasn’t a choice she had come to easily. She hated the way people who worked for him treated those who didn’t. But I won’t live like a rat for my entire life.
“Don’t tell me what to do. Who do you think has been feeding you? If I hadn’t joined Beladeva, we might both be dead.”
“You don’t know that. I’m your uncle and—”
“No, you’re not!”
He winced at her outburst, and immediately she regretted the remark.
Lela lost both parents in skirmishes between several of Kindi’s independent city-states. Her father died serving in a local militia. Her mother died as collateral damage. Orphaned at the age of four, Kunal had found her wandering for food. He’d taken her with him to Bashan where he had hoped to make his fortune as a tailor. After a few weeks, she began calling him uncle. Things went well for several years until Kunal tangled himself up in the city’s opium culture. Orders went unfulfilled. Debts went unpaid. They lost everything.
“You should be the one taking care of me. Not the other way around.” She tossed him a small bag that landed at his feet.<
br />
He stared at it, working his jaw. “What is this?”
“You know good and well what it is. I don’t have the money to help you get over your addiction yet, so this is the only alternative I could think of. I told you I’d just as soon buy it for you myself than have you sell yourself again.”
He bent slowly and picked up the bag. A tear fell from his face as his fist closed tightly around it. He wheeled and threw it out the window.
“What are you doing?” she yelled. “That cost me most of the advance I received from Beladeva.”
“No more. I’m done. I . . . I never wanted you involved in what I’ve become.”
“I’ve always been involved.”
“I know. I’ve been lying to myself, but I can’t do it any longer.” He looked up with red eyes. “I’m done. For good. I swear.”
“You’ve sworn that to me before.”
“I mean it this time. And clean, I’ll be able to find work again. Once I do, you can tell Beladeva that you won’t work for him anymore.”
It doesn’t work like that.
Lela kept that to herself. She didn’t want to crush any motivation that might spark Kunal to stay clean. “Prove to me that you can do it and I’ll talk to Beladeva. Until then, I have work to do.”
He must have heard the doubt in her voice. “I can do it, Lela. I know I can.”
She gave him a hug, not caring that her uncle’s filth would undo part of the work to make her presentable. “I know you can too,” she said, wanting to convince herself as much as convince him.
CHAPTER 4
Princess Mira rolled the blown glass goblet in her hand so the sura came dangerously close to flowing over the side. She paused, taking a sip of the fermented beverage made from an assortment of rice meal, sugar cane, and grapes. It was cheap, a drink of the commoner, far less refined than the wine her brother drank as he spoke with leaders from each of the major houses in Bashan. However, unlike wine, one did not need to acquire a taste for sura. The sweetness made it instantly easy on the palate.
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