Her smile faded. The place she rested her head each night held none of those fond memories, especially now with Kunal pacing about, muttering to himself, and rubbing his hands to cease their shaking.
Hunger. Pain. Fear of the unknown. Those will be my memories of that apartment. Simply better than sleeping in a gutter.
Shouting rang out.
Lela spun to her right, so caught up in thought, she hadn’t noticed her proximity to the walls around the Tower of Bashan.
It’s coming from inside.
The shouting grew in volume as more joined the chorus. The voices came from a multitude of languages, most prominently, the common tongue of Kindi. Guards, she realized, forgetting all about her previous sorrows. Broken pottery, and snapping wood added to the yells.
The sounds are moving to the western gate.
Curiosity got the best of her and she sprinted toward a wide-canopied, unusually large, gulmohar tree. It stood twice as high as the walls, and would give her a clear view of the western entrance. Despite her recently treated skin and her new sari, she climbed. Three quarters of the way up, she inched out on one of the narrow limbs, bare feet balancing on the smooth bark. She pushed aside bright-green leaves and deep-red flowers that smelled cleaner than the city around her. Her sari blended well with the blooming foliage.
Inside the walls, two figures barreled their ways through the sea of vendor stands, toppling carts, crates, barrels, and even the vendors themselves in an effort to slow the trailing guardsmen.
Emerging from the last of the stands and onto the path that led toward the gate, swords clanged with two guardsmen. Both went down quickly.
The taller one moves like the woman that saved me in the alley.
Lela’s stomach dropped. She squinted, noting the comparative size of the two figures. Long braids flopped behind the larger of the two.
That is the woman!
The two foreigners made it through the gate with a handful of men on their heels.
She kept her eyes on the guardsmen while climbing down the tree, graciously accepting the scrapes on shin and forearm. She’d worry about damage to the sari later. She couldn’t let them get away.
* * *
Outside the walls, Andrasta led the guards down several twisting alleys before losing them at a narrow intersection. Rondel thankfully kept pace, still huffing for air while rubbing at his mouth and throat. She finally slowed at a long street filled with various shops and businesses, most of which were closed for the day. She and Rondel did their best to appear normal in spite of their nationalities and attire.
She waited until her anger had calmed and Rondel’s breathing sounded more normal before speaking. “What was that all about?”
His neck reddened. “It was nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
He sighed and told her.
“You left out the part where they said you were small like most women.”
He halted. “What? You heard that?”
She shrugged.
“But . . . why . . . how could you do that to me?”
“What? When Dimwit and Nitwit tried to corner me I got out of it without blowing our cover since you swore up and down that was the best option we had to get into the tower and steal the jewel. Why couldn’t you do the same?”
“Because I’m not the fighter that you are.”
She gave him a dismissive look and started walking again. “I’ve been training you for over a year. You should have been able to handle them both. That’s why I waited. I kept expecting you to get out of it on your own. I knew the second I got involved, someone was going to notice and alert the guards.” She paused. “The problem is that you panicked because of the situation.”
“Can you blame me? Getting raped is a man’s worst nightmare.”
She grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him, and slammed a fist into his gut. Rondel folded in half at the waist.
A part of Andrasta felt sorry for the blow. Another part wanted to strike him again.
“What was that for?” he finally croaked.
She seethed. “For your stupidity. Anyone else and I would have done more. You said that like you think getting raped is somehow less of a nightmare for a woman?”
He crawled to his feet, hunched over. “I’m sorry. It probably did come out wrong. I’m still trying to collect my thoughts. I think I have my head on straight now.”
“Are you sure? You keep telling me that you aren’t going to let what happened in Erba cloud your thinking, yet I keep seeing more and more signs that say otherwise.”
His mouth thinned. “Look, I said, I’m fine.”
No. You’re not. But she let the matter drop. Andrasta knew of nothing that could heal the emotional wounds from Erba except time. She glanced over her shoulder at the tower mocking her.
She felt selfish for wondering how much time would be enough for Rondel to recover from his losses. I can’t wait forever.
She began walking again, hoping to shake off her thoughts. It was bad enough that from the beginning she had led him to believe they would sell the jewel for profit. Try as she might, she could never find an easy way to discuss the truth of taking the jewel to her father. What once started as a small deception, now felt like betrayal. Adding to her guilt, was the worry that by telling Rondel the truth, he might no longer help her retrieve the jewel.
And it would take something as great as giving him the Jewel of Bashan to impress Father.
She felt her mood worsen and clenched her jaw. She was not in a place to let her thoughts wander down the path of her troublesome relationship with her father. To take her mind off her thoughts, she went back to the topic of the brothers. “I was surprised you even drew your sword. I expected you to just talk your way out of it.”
“You heard what was said. It would have been impossible. To have an intelligent conversation, all parties need to have some level of intelligence. I would have done better convincing a slab of marble to let me go.”
“What are we going to do now?”
“Well, obviously we can’t go back. Don’t worry, I realized earlier you were right. There has to be a better way to study the first level of the tower. In fact I was close to deciding that today was going to be our last day anyway. I had just hoped to leave under more peaceful terms.”
“Then you’ve thought of something else?” There was a long pause. I’m not going to like this. “Well?” she prodded again.
“I’m still working on that,” he said in a light tone.
Her jaw tensed. “By the gods, Rondel. This is not a joke. This is everything to me. This . . .”
This would make my father happy. No one in Juntark could stand before him with the jewel’s power. My people would finally accept me too. That’s what she wanted to say, but kept to herself.
He must have seen something in her eyes for his face grew stern. “I promise. I’ll put aside what happened at the City of Pillars and think of something. I always do. I’ll figure out how to get the last bit of information we need about the tower’s entrance, and then we can compare it against the notes from Erba.”
Andrasta glanced up at the night sky, frustrated. She let out a deep sigh.
A throat cleared from behind. “I know how you can get close enough to study the tower’s entrance without raising suspicion.”
Andrasta hissed a curse in Juntarkan. Caught up in emotion, they had grown careless with their conversation, speaking in the local tongue. They spun toward a small voice.
Before them stood a girl with long, black hair parted down the middle and pinned up behind her head. She wore a simple, yet elegant, red and purple sari. To the naked eye, someone might mistake her for a high-born girl, but Andrasta knew better.
The way she’s fidgeting, she’s not used to wearing such nice clothes. And she stands as though she’s trying to remind herself of her posture rather than having it come naturally. Nails are painted, but they’re short which means that they’ve been broken and rep
aired. Scrapes on the forearms as well.
Something about her looks familiar too.
“We don’t know what you’re talking about. Run along, girl,” said Andrasta.
“No, I heard what you said about the tower. I can help. I want to help. As a way to say thank you for helping me.”
“We never helped you.”
“Sure you did. Your faces were covered then, but I know it’s you.”
Andrasta opened her mouth, but Rondel cut her off. She noted the smirk on his face. “The little girl from the docks.”
* * *
Lela thought she had lost the two foreigners, having long ago passed several confused guardsmen. However, she kept searching and thanks to a little luck, managed to spot them in the middle of a sparsely populated street, arguing. She came upon them in the middle of a heated conversation.
She slinked her way closer, positioning herself behind a long row of blooming, white lotus flowers.
They want to get into the tower? That’s crazy. There’s nothing but death inside, she thought, recalling stories everyone knew. Well, death and the jewel.
She snorted silently to herself. The few that have actually made it inside the tower never made it out.
She heard a mention of notes obtained from Erba. But these are professionals. Maybe they have a chance.
She shook her head. Probably not. But it would be stupid to pass up the opportunity . . . . If I can convince them to let me help, I’d probably make enough for me and Kunal to leave not only Bashan, but all of Kindi.
Lela knew her idea was crazy. Just alerting the two foreigners that she had overheard part of their conversation might get her killed.
But they helped me before without expecting anything in return. Besides, if there’s any chance to escape a life under Beladeva, I have to take it.
She stepped out from behind the lotus flowers and spoke. “I know how you can get close enough to study the tower’s entrance without raising suspicion.”
The big woman hissed a curse in some language Lela had never heard before. The two wheeled on her. The man gave her a look of genuine interest as if she was some bizarre novelty one might find at a carnival.
Well, I’m not dead yet. That has to be a good sign.
* * *
“The little girl from the docks,” Rondel said.
Under ordinary circumstances he might have been angry to discover someone tailing them, but there was nothing ordinary about someone so small and so young following them.
“You remember me?” she asked.
“Remember, yes. Recognize? Barely.”
He studied the girl. She appeared a little older now that she had cleaned up. The fact she no longer dressed in rags piqued his interest.
Did she make good use of the money? Or was she in a disguise before?
The girl’s eyes shifted to the left and right. She ignored Rondel’s remark about her appearance. “I know a private place where we can talk.”
“A place where those you work for can attack us?” snapped Andrasta, grabbing the girl’s arm and pulling her close.
The girl frowned. “No! Nothing like that. I’m here on my own.”
Andrasta turned a questioning look on him. Despite his failed plan for how to study the tower, she still deferred to him. Placing trust in a small child when it could mean destroying all they had worked for wasn’t exactly part of the plan.
But I’m truly at a loss and I promised Andrasta I would figure this out. Maybe the girl will at least spark a better idea for me to use.
“All right. We’ll hear you out,” said Rondel. “But under our terms. This isn’t my first time in Bashan. I also know a place away from prying eyes. We go there to talk, or nowhere at all.”
The girl hesitated. “All right. Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 6
“The water gardens?” asked Lela.
At least that’s the name she wishes to give us.
“Very astute,” Rondel said sarcastically while passing underneath a spout of water that shot out of the ground on one side of the path and into a hole on the other side in continual, sorcerous arcs.
All around them water flowed in a way that seemed to defy gravity, curving in the air over red and orange granite walkways. On either side of the paths, stood sculptures carved out of white or black marble. Water spouted, poured, and danced around and within each piece.
If the Tower of Bashan was the city’s most notable landmark and tourist attraction, the water gardens were its second. Built during the beginning of the Rashtraka dynasty, when Kindi remained one unified country rather than a loose faction of city-states, Emperor Vjayan hoped his gardens might rival the natural water gardens in distant Mandawain. Despite the beauty created by Vjayan, Rondel felt the emperor’s efforts came up short.
Despite all we try to do, we just cannot create anything better than what the world formed on its own.
If Thalamanak were still alive, even he would have to admit that the Tower of Bashan doesn’t compare in beauty with something like the great Krazenburg Falls in Luss, or the Painted Caverns in Topek.
Rondel halted in front of one of the more impressive sculptures. It depicted a group of six men on hands and knees prostrating themselves before the Kindi god, Draraka. Draraka held a torch in his right hand. A light mist came from tiny holes in the stone flames so that it resembled smoke. In front of the sculpture rested a slab of white marble. “The Gift of the Gods” had been etched on its face, the moment when man received the gift of fire according to Kindi lore.
“This is an awful place to meet,” said Lela. “Even at this time of evening, it’s full of people.”
“That’s the idea,” said Rondel.
Andrasta nodded as if she approved.
Lela glanced about. “But there’s no privacy.”
“There’s enough. The sound of all this water will drown out any potential eavesdroppers. And from here we’d see someone coming at us with plenty of time to react.”
“All right. Like I said, I know of a way to—”
Rondel raised up a hand. “Not yet. First, I want your terms.”
Lela bunched her face as if confused. “What do you mean?”
“What are you hoping to get out of providing us this information?”
She tilted her head. “I told you. It’s just my way of saying thank you. I owe you one.”
“Nice try. But people don’t generally do what you’re doing just to say thank you.”
“People also don’t generally go to the length that both of you did to help a strange girl in the middle of an alley surrounded by guards.”
Andrasta snorted. The hint of a grin tickled the corners of her mouth. “She’s got you there.”
Rondel admired the girl’s intelligence. People probably underestimate her all the time. “Even so. What are your terms?”
Lela fidgeted and mulled about, but eventually admitted, “I want a cut of whatever amount you sell the jewel for.”
“What jewel?” lied Rondel.
“I’m not stupid. I know what’s in the tower. I assume that you’re going to try to steal it.”
Definitely need to watch this one. “We could just want to study the inside of the tower itself.”
“I just said I wasn’t stupid.”
Andrasta cut in. “How big of a cut do you want?”
“I’m not greedy. Twenty percent sounds more than fair to me.”
“Twenty!” said Rondel. “That’s ridiculous. Once inside, all the risk will be ours. No more than five.”
The girl remained calm. “Fifteen. Without me, you might not ever get inside.”
“You don’t know that.”
“True. But I know you don’t have a solid way to get inside right now, otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me.”
Gods, I’ve haggled less when fencing stolen goods. “Fine. Seven percent.”
The girl shrugged, appearing indifferent. “Ten or I walk.”
“Eight or nothin
g,” butted in Andrasta. Her tone suggested that negotiations were over.
A small grin tugged at Lela’s mouth. “Eight it is.”
I think we’ve been had.
“Now, speak,” said Andrasta.
“You’re going about it the wrong way,” said Lela. “The entrance you’re looking for isn’t there.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rondel.
“When Princess Mira first opened the tower to the public, she sectioned off the first floor in a way that the real entrance was kept hidden in order to deter people from breaking in. The part of the entrance used for tours isn’t the real entrance.”
Rondel swore. Gods, that would explain why I’ve had so much trouble making sense of the markings by the children’s play area.
A part of him felt relieved that he hadn’t been losing his mind. However, another part of him grew angry that he hadn’t realized what was going on. He caught a sidelong glance from Andrasta.
And no doubt she’s wondering the same. I’m sure I would have figured it out with more time to study the markings.
“How do we get to the other part of the first floor chamber?” asked Andrasta.
“I don’t know exactly,” said Lela. She held up her hands when Andrasta’s face clouded. “But I know who does.”
“Who?”
“Princess Mira.”
Rondel chuckled. “I figured that you didn’t really have anything for us.”
“What do you mean? I’m telling the truth.”
“Do you expect me to just stroll right up to the palace, drop to a knee, and beg her royal highness to show me the entrance to the tower? I guess if I said pretty please that might persuade her.”
Lela’s eyes narrowed. “Quit mocking me. I do have an idea for how you can get to the entrance.”
“Tell me.”
Lela calmed. “Once a year, the royalty throws a huge party at the palace in preparation for the Raivataka festival. This year’s event is less than two weeks away.”
“Gods,” Rondel interrupted. “I forgot completely about that.”
“What is it?” asked Andrasta.
“It’s a night for rejoicing and putting aside differences. The event started centuries ago and has never been missed, whether during war or peace.”
The Tower of Bashan Page 7
