“Yes,” added Lela. “Every member of the houses of Bashan will be in attendance. Powerful merchants, generals, current allies from other regions in Kindi, and even some enemies.”
Rondel chimed in. “After the party is over, the ruler often invites very specific guests to continue celebrating late into the night.”
“I don’t see how a party would help our situation,” said Andrasta.
“Because,” said Lela, “once Princess Mira took over for her father, she began holding this private celebration in the true entrance to the tower. I think she does this for increased privacy though she claims that it only makes sense to celebrate at the tallest building in the city since Raivataka is to honor the legendary mountain where the gods are said to reside. Prince Minander continued her practice once he took over as ruler.”
“So once a year people are allowed into that part of the first floor, but only for one night?” asked Andrasta.
“Yes. Otherwise, it stands heavily guarded.”
Rondel raised an eyebrow. “And how does a little girl who once smelled of trash and dressed like the dregs of society know all of this?”
“People don’t notice me. I can sneak around and overhear lots of conversations. Just like I did tonight. I know all this stuff about the tower because several scholars from the university talked about it while eating at a local pastry shop.”
“All right. Let’s say this all happens as you say it will,” said Rondel.
“It will.”
“The problem is that we’re still back to where we were before. Neither me nor Andrasta would make a guest list that would give us access.”
“I’m sure you could think of something.” She hesitated as if fighting with her conscience. “I actually just started working at the palace. I can try to get information about the prince and princess while I’m there. Maybe you can use it in some way.”
“Wait. Now you work at the palace too? Who are you?”
“No one. Just someone who caught a lucky break and finally got a decent job.”
Andrasta grunted. “Give us a minute in private”
“Sure.” Lela walked a good hundred feet away and sat beside a small waterfall that descended over granite steps before collapsing into a pool surrounded by black marble.
When the girl took a seat, Andrasta asked, “Well?”
“Well what? You’re considering this?”
“You just said earlier you didn’t have a better option. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but if what the girl says is true about working in the palace, that could help, right?”
“It could, but it won’t be enough. To get on that guest list, we’ll need to pull out all the stops and create entirely new personas. I mean—”
She grabbed him by the shoulders. “After what I saw you do in Zafar to Kamal and Wabu, I know you can do this.”
Rondel winced at the reminder. He was in no mood to discuss Erba. “That was different. I was operating on hate and revenge for what happened to us and remorse for what happened to Shadya and our—”
“I know. I didn’t mean to bring it up. But I need you to do this. Just tell me what I need to do to make it happen and I will.”
That look in her eyes. I’ve never heard her sound so desperate. She’s worried we’ll never get to the jewel. C’mon Rondel, you owe her.
Wheels turned in his head. A con from an old play he used to perform came to mind.
A hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. About time I start getting my act together.
“All right. But I’m warning you that to pull this off, it’s going to cost us. A lot.”
“Money matters little to me so long as we get the jewel.”
“Then bring the girl back. We’ve got a lot more to discuss.”
* * *
Lela tiptoed down the hallway to her apartment. It was late, but in her part of the city, someone always seemed to be up. Babies cried. Adults sobbed. Couples fought. Addicts prayed loudly, either for what their bodies craved, or if broke and racked with the pain of withdrawals, a quick death. She expected to hear one or more of those sounds from her floor, but all was still.
That made her more nervous.
She stepped faster, worried that something awful might happen at any moment. She tried the door to her apartment and found it open. She swore, angry at Kunal. Expecting to find him either high or continuing to suffer through withdrawals, she frowned at the empty space.
Lela closed the door, clenching her jaw. He couldn’t even make it one day. Only the gods know what he’s likely doing to get his fix this time around. Why did he have to throw away the opium I bought?
She barred the door. Based on past experiences Kunal wouldn’t come home tonight and the danger of leaving the door open was too great for her to risk.
Putting aside her disappointment, she crossed the small room to change out of her sari and dress in her rags. Lela hated putting the dirty garments over her clean skin. However, she figured it made more sense than sleeping in the sari.
Tomorrow would be the biggest day of her life.
I can’t believe I did it, she thought, recalling her conversation with Rondel and Andrasta.
After agreeing to give her idea a chance, they grilled her with questions about all she knew. Rondel then gave her of list of information that would help them pull off the ruse of getting invited to the party at the palace. He said he didn’t expect Lela to get all of the information, especially not within a day or two, but anything would be helpful.
So well organized. And able to think quickly. That gave her confidence. Perhaps they can pull off the impossible.
Lela eased down on a half-rotted floorboard. She pulled an old cloth over her legs for warmth. She would get all the information Rondel wanted, one way or another.
Better to exceed expectations than for them to question my usefulness.
An image of Beladeva flashed in her mind. She had her own set of tasks and bits of information to gather for him too. She could not displease the crime lord either. As much as she hoped for Rondel and Andrasta’s success, reality told her things rarely worked out in her favor.
CHAPTER 7
Lela opened her eyes to the sound of wailing. It wasn’t the first time that something so filled with pain had woken her. She doubted it would be the last.
I wonder who died this time.
She sat up with a start, head quickly swiveling about. Kunal had not come home. Lela’s first reaction was to dress and go out searching for him. But as she rose, she caught sight of her sari.
I can’t. Today is the day. I have to go to the palace. She seethed, thinking about the position Kunal had put her in, forcing her to abandon him and hope for the best. I can’t let this opportunity slip by. I can only pray . . . no the gods never listen . . . I can only hope that he’s waiting for me when I return home tonight.
She stripped and donned the sari once more, doing her best to fold the cloth in a way so that it hid the few tears from climbing the tree last evening.
She left her room and froze. Down the hallway, a middle-aged woman kneeled beside the bodies of three men. Blood coated her hands and arms. Lela knew them by reputation. Each belonged to the Nishant syndicate, a lesser rival of Beladeva’s criminal empire.
The woman noticed Lela and begged for help. Lela turned away quickly and descended the stairs. Once she might have rushed to the woman’s aid, but that girl had died hungry in the streets of Bashan. Lela knew nothing good would come from helping the woman. She’d get blood on her sari and end up late to the palace.
Besides, I can’t be seen helping someone who was at odds with Beladeva. Especially if he ordered their deaths.
She exited the building with the woman’s pleas fading behind her. No one else on the streets seemed to care about the racket either.
She took little solace in that.
Despite the early hour, bright sunlight filtered down from thin clouds hanging over the city. The warmth felt good on Lela’s
skin, but it did little for her nose, heating up the trash and urine covering the streets. Both the smells and sights improved as she made her way through the city.
In the high district, servants carried out full chamber pots and poured them into the sewers near the curb. Maids opened windows to let in fresh air while cooks quickly left their masters’ homes to purchase food from the market. Some of the wealthier citizens exited their homes dressed in elaborate sherwanis while on their way to do the day’s business. Depending on wealth and importance, one or two guards followed in their wakes.
A single horse drawn cart clopped down the street. The driver, a vendor late in getting his wares to market, cracked his whip at the beast, urging it on faster. He caught Lela staring and scowled. She stepped aside as he barreled past. The smell of freshly cooked flat bread set her stomach growling. She quickly darted back into the street and snatched a sample from the back of the cart.
What am I doing? I’m not dressed like a thief anymore and I’m on my way to the palace. I can’t be doing this.
She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one did. She shrugged and took the first buttery bite.
A short time later, she reached the outer wall to the palace. Made from blocks of green limestone, it stood fifteen feet in height. However, its grandeur was incomparable to the palace behind the walls.
Constructed entirely out of pink marble, it bore the name the Rose Palace. In a city of wonders such as the tower and water gardens, she found it ironic that such beauty could be overlooked.
Circular in nature, the outer walls of the palace held no clear edges. Each story appeared to fold onto itself so the entire thing resembled petals. A gold spire ascended out of the center of the building like a large pistil. Arrayed around the outside of the palace, stood five green towers, each four stories high. They served no practical purpose that Lela was aware of, but she liked to think of them as thorns.
And people actually deny that the palace wasn’t intentionally designed to resemble a flower.
Someone bumped into her, jarring her from her admiration. She started to open her mouth and protest, but realized the someone was another servant hurrying to the line forming outside the palace’s walls at the heavily guarded gates.
I wonder if they are as nervous as I am.
She took a deep breath and joined them.
Be calm, Lela. You can do this.
CHAPTER 8
Andrasta jerked awake and shook away the remnants of her dream while cautiously scanning the area around her. All was as it should be, but that gave her little comfort. It was unlike her to doze off so exposed, even if only for a moment.
Even in a few seconds of sleep, I can’t get the jewel out of my head.
The promise to her father played itself over and over in her mind as of late.
I’ll never know peace unless I take the jewel to him. She thought of Rondel again and wondered what he would say if he knew her intentions. A ball of guilt formed in her gut. What peace will I have then?
She used the tip of forefinger and thumb to rub the sleep from her eyes. It had been a long night standing vigil outside the little girl’s apartment, made longer by three fights with men of various ilk and size who had tried to rob or assault her. Two bodies lay hidden in an alley beneath trash. The third stiffened on the roof of an adjacent apartment building.
“Finally,” she muttered as Lela exited the building just before dawn. The girl again wore the red and purple sari.
Andrasta followed as Lela made her way through the city, smiling once as she deftly stole bread from a cart passing by. She pulled back to the shadows when the girl joined a line of similarly dressed individuals at the palace’s gates. A man with a sheet of parchment walked up and down the column, asking questions and ticking marks with a quill as he went. Only when Lela moved inside did Andrasta leave.
At least she was telling the truth about that.
It took her the better part of an hour to jog back to the room she and Rondel rented. She entered via the third story balcony shielded from prying eyes in a narrow alley rather than drawing attention to herself by walking through the front door where people would wonder about her early arrival. She slipped inside the window and found Rondel sitting at the room’s lone table, scribbling away with quill and ink.
“Have you even moved since I left?”
“Twice,” he said without looking up. “Both times to use the chamber pot if you must know.”
“And?” she asked, eager to hear his progress on how to get onto the princess’s guest list.
“And I felt much better each time. Thanks for asking.”
She cuffed him.
“Hey! I’m in the middle of something.” He scribbled some last note, punctuated the end of the line with a hard dot, then set about removing the excess ink from the quill with a small piece of cloth. “How about you go first?” He blinked rapidly, while taking in the first rays of morning that lanced down into their room. “Gods, it’s bright. Close the curtains first, will you?”
Andrasta drew the thin curtains and took a seat across from Rondel on the edge of the bed. Unlacing her boots, she began. “She stays in the third floor of a dump in the Low District. I don’t know how the building is still standing. The walls are in such bad shape you can see right into some of the rooms without a window. I got some information about her from a couple people who thought to grab hold of me. She lives alone with an older man named Kunal. She calls him uncle, but there is some question whether they’re related. They apparently look nothing alike.”
“That means nothing. We’re half-siblings after all.”
Andrasta snorted. “Anyway, the uncle is hooked on opium. Keeps trying to quit, but it never sticks.”
“How does he get money for that?”
“However, he can. Sold himself to some pusher not too long ago from what I heard.”
“That’s a shame.”
Andrasta really didn’t care about what the uncle did. It was his life. “The girl has been recently accepted into a big crime syndicate.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Which one?”
“Beladeva’s.”
Rondel frowned. “Name doesn’t ring a bell. He must have taken over from someone else that was in power when I last came here. Not surprising. Those guys aren’t known to die of old age.”
“You think Beladeva’s setting us up through the girl?”
“Maybe. Though I’m not sure how. No one knows who we are except the girl and that’s by accident. We should still find out more about this Beladeva to be on the safe side though.”
Rondel paused. His eyes seemed distant, almost glazed over. Andrasta took that for a good sign. It usually meant he had something brewing.
He focused on her again. “I’ll have to think more about the angles. In the meantime, let’s not bring it up to her just yet. See how things play out first. What else?”
“Not much. She got up early and went to the palace like she said she was going to do.”
“And got inside?”
She nodded. “I came back here after that.”
“It’ll be interesting to see what she learns before our next meeting.”
Andrasta gestured to the parchment Rondel had scribbled on. Each paper barely looked as though it had any space left to write on. Arrows had been drawn all over the sides, connecting each set of notes with another. “Well?”
He sighed. “There’s still a few holes here and there that I won’t be able to work out until later, some of it is dependent on what Lela discovers. The meat of the plan is ready.” He stood and stretched. “A lot to do in a short amount of time.”
Andrasta put her boots back on. “Then we better get started right away.” She reached over and grabbed his boots, tossing them into his gut. He caught one, but fumbled and dropped the other. It clacked against the floor.
“Are you crazy?” A yawn burst from Rondel’s lips. “We’ve both been up all night. I’m exhausted.”
“So am I, but we can sleep later.”
“We can sleep now just as easily. Just for a couple hours.”
She paused with her laces and gave him a look.
“Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”
A few minutes later they left the inn.
“Where are we going first?” asked Andrasta.
“Stables.”
“I checked on Jewel and your mount last night.” It bugged Andrasta that Rondel refused to name his horse.
“We’re not looking for horses. We need a carriage.”
“What for?”
Rondel smiled. “I think I’ll keep that to myself. I don’t want you questioning every bit of the plan until you fully understand what I have in mind.”
* * *
Lela left the palace frustrated in more ways than one.
As Chand had instructed, she found her contact, a small boy near her age in the kitchens. Without speaking, he led her through half the first floor of the palace and passed her on to a young woman near twenty. The young woman passed her on to a middle-aged man who walked like he’d sat on a long tent pole, back erect, hips thrust forward. However, it didn’t end there. He passed her on to another contact. With each person she met, she realized just how many people Beladeva had managed to work inside the palace.
Ears everywhere.
Thrice more she was handed off. At last, an old woman with a shriveled face that looked like it was collapsing on itself due to her magnitude of wrinkles and her perpetual frown gave her the first lesson of the day.
Lela had tried to introduce herself, but an open-handed slap to her face had cut her off. Her hands instinctively bunched into fists, and that was met with another slap. “To knock the fight out of you,” the old woman named Seeta had said.
Lela’s fight never left her.
She was not so stupid to fight with one of Beladeva’s other spies though. She inferred from Seeta’s grumblings that the old woman felt threatened by Lela’s presence. As a result, Seeta made sure Lela spent the day scrubbing floors, walls, and anything else that would put her as far away from Princess Mira as possible.
The Tower of Bashan Page 8
