Brahma nodded. “So I guessed.”
She poorly hid her surprise. “Really? When?”
“A month ago. One of my men happened upon a conversation with Captain Lochman of the watch and your brother. The prince asked what resources Lochman needed to train more recruits. Lochman asked how many the prince wanted to add. Minander said several thousand. The prince explained that he wanted to have men patrolling not just the streets of the city proper but all the roads in Bashan in order to keep them safe from thugs out and about.”
“You mean those recent rumblings about the strangler cult returning? Those stories only began a month ago . . .” That sneaky little . . . . Mira swore, not caring whose presence she was in.
“My thoughts exactly. It appears your brother learned a few things while away after all.”
Yes, he did. Raise an army and everyone will be in an uproar. Start rumors about bandits and then say you’re trying to stop them by moving more men into the countryside and you’ll be looked upon as someone who cares for the people. All the while, you’ll have a larger militia in place to invade your neighbors.
“What more do you know about his plans?”
“I heard from a reliable source that his true reason for this trip was to scout out places for future military outposts near Bashan’s borders.”
His stupid trips with his friends. Mira slammed her fist on the arm of the chair as she stood. “How did I let him do this?”
“By obeying the law and backing off during the transitional period. The rest is Gulzar’s doing. His people handle a large portion of your brother’s leg work. That way he doesn’t have to use royal guards and draw notice of the other houses.”
“But you noticed.”
He opened his hands and turned them over. “I always notice. It’s part of why I used to frustrate your father so much.”
Mira grinned at that. Her father and Brahma had a very unique relationship, always fighting with each other, but never maliciously. She refocused her thoughts. “How has Gulzar come up in the world so quickly?”
“That I don’t know.”
Mira paced back and forth.
Minander’s ambitions for war are out of control. I can’t let this get any worse.
She went back to her seat. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”
“Of course it’s not. Your father and I disagreed about many things, but we both knew that shedding Kindi blood was not the right solution to re-uniting our country.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He chuckled. “What can I do?”
“Even with Gulzar’s apparent rise in power, you’re still the second most powerful man in Bashan behind the crown.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Some might reverse that placing.”
“Yes. They would. And that makes my point greater. Are you going to stand by and let Bashan go to war?”
“I may have money and guards of my own, but I don’t have anything resembling a militia. And I’m not about to declare war against your brother to rule in his stead.”
“Would you declare war for me?”
He grunted. “You can’t be serious!”
She clenched her hands. “I am. I know that you did not wish to see Minander take over the crown. You were happy with my rule.”
“I was. But there are laws in place and—”
“Yes, I know I’m not supposed to rule over my brother while he is of age. But the transitional period is not up. That might buy me some leeway. If you can help me prove Minander is going to go to war, the other house leaders who don’t know his intentions might come to my side. Then as a collective we can change the law and remove him from power.”
“They won’t turn on him. He’s won too many over with money and Gulzar frightened the others who couldn’t be bribed.”
“But Bashan—”
“I love the city too, but I’ll not lose everything my family owns needlessly.”
“No. You’ll just lose it when our enemies sack the city while weakened.”
“I’ll pack up and leave long before then.” He smirked. “I hear the Hidesi Islands are warm year round,” he added sarcastically.
Mira wanted to scream in frustration. She needed Brahma’s help if she was to succeed in removing her brother from power. But to do so, she needed to bring something to the table, something she didn’t have. An army. Thinking of Lord Rickar, she took a chance. “What if I was to secure my own army?”
“Out of thin air? I didn’t know you were a sorceress.”
“I’m serious. What if I had an army myself?”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the emissary from Bratanic would it?” Brahma asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m looking into him just so you’re aware. Something seems strange about him, familiar even, but I can’t place it.”
How did he know? Mira managed to keep her composure. “Good idea, but you’re avoiding my question,” she said, perfectly aware she had done the same to him.
“So you would go to war against your brother and bleed Bashan yourself? The very thing you’re criticizing Minander for?”
“I wouldn’t need to go to war. The army I’m talking about would be for show. A symbol. It would be present only to make people hesitant so you can speak to the other house leaders without threat of the consequences. You could convince them of their mistake since they all respect you.”
He studied her. “You’re serious.”
“About Bashan? Always.”
He paused, thinking, then gave a shrug. “All right. I don’t know where you expect to find this army, but if you find one, and can guarantee that I’ll be protected, I’ll speak on your behalf. But only if I have complete confidence in these forces.”
“I understand.”
“Today is the second day of the month. In two months, your brother is supposed to take the throne outright. After that, there will be no stopping him. I hope you can work fast, Princess.”
So do I.
She glanced out the window, wondering when Lela would return.
CHAPTER 17
The table rocked. Andrasta’s arm shot out. She caught a small vase mere inches before it crashed onto the floor of the master bedroom. Her heart quickened.
“Be careful,” she hissed.
Rondel edged slowly away from the table, adjusting the small sack slung over his shoulder. “Sorry. I got distracted.”
“With what?” she said, setting the vase back on the table.
He gestured to the painting on the wall. It was a portrait of a bald young man with a thin black mustache. Pale gray eyes narrowed as if the lifeless image could actually focus on someone or something in the room. The figure wore long, flowing robes of gray that matched his eyes. Mist and shadow danced around his body, fading into white as it reached the edge of the canvas.
“Who is that supposed to be?”
“Thalamanak.”
“The sorcerer?”
“You know of another Thalamanak?”
She hadn’t really given much thought to the sorcerer’s appearance, but now that she saw an image of him, something didn’t seem right. “He doesn’t look anything like I imagined.”
“He might not even look like this,” said Rondel.
“What do you mean?”
“He was known to take many physical forms in order to confuse his enemies. I’m sure he looked like this at the time of the painting, or at least what the artist thought he looked like. Like many powerful men, he was a bit . . . eccentric to say the least.”
“Like designing a tower full of powerful guardians?”
He chuckled. “Exactly. Anyway, I’ve seen him portrayed as a bent-back old man, a young child, even a beautiful maiden.”
“Then how do you know this is Thalamanak?”
Rondel pointed to the engraving. “It says so right there.” He smiled.
She scowled, adjusting her own sack. “Are we done?”
Rondel glanced once more aroun
d the room as if calculating the value of everything in sight. Dressed in their old attire, the two had been at it since mid-morning, breaking into more than half a dozen homes, stealing from some of the wealthiest in the area.
Under normal circumstances, Andrasta could have not cared less of robbing the city’s upper crust. However, there was the added danger of them not only getting caught, but damaging the efforts they hoped to accomplish with their new personas if someone spotted them. She had expressed those concerns to Rondel last night when he suggested the day’s plans.
“I agree, but our disguises were expensive to create, and are expensive to maintain. We’re almost out of money, and it wouldn’t do for Lord Rickar to be seen begging on the streets of Bashan for a few coppers,” he had said.
Someone laughed down the hallway outside the door. A woman’s voice hushed the first while trying not to laugh herself.
“The servants are checking rooms,” said Andrasta.
“Then let’s go.”
The two hurried across the room, exiting through the fourth story window which faced a dead end alley. Andrasta went out first and secured their sacks on the roof while Rondel came up beside her.
“What do you think? One more?” he asked.
She glanced up at the sky, and shook her head. “The sun will be setting soon. This was a good idea when we knew the nobles would be off with the day’s business. But it won’t be long before they start coming home.”
“Good point. We probably have enough to last us for a couple weeks anyway.”
“A week? This is enough to last us a year.”
“Under normal circumstances. However, we need to get rid of this both quickly and discreetly. We aren’t going to get true value for the goods.”
She stood. “Fine. Let’s just get out of here before someone sees us.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” said a rough voice from behind.
Andrasta spun, drawing her sword in one motion. Five approaching figures moved silently across an adjacent rooftop. Each wore the common all white garb of the city’s working class. However, the khandas four of the men carried said quite convincingly that their work was not common at all. They jumped the short distance between buildings, landing without a sound to the roof she and Rondel stood on.
“Didn’t hear a thing,” he said beside her. His short sword was in his hand.
“Sorcerer. Third from the right,” she said, noting the one man without a khanda who hung back behind the others, fingers dancing about.
“Take him out first when I tell you,” whispered Rondel.
“Why not let me take him out now?”
“Because we won’t learn anything if we kill them now. Be patient.”
“Pretty bold to be stealing in the middle of the day,” said the man in front, his eyes studying them beneath a thick brow.
Andrasta recognized him as the one who had spoken before. Even if she had met him under a different set of circumstances she decided she would hate him all the same for the strange way he sucked in his bottom lip when not speaking.
The group stopped some twenty feet away. Each wore thick silks, common among those who carried a blade as the material could stop most spear or arrow tips from penetrating to the skin.
Rondel shrugged. “Not if you know what you’re doing. With everyone about their business, you’re less likely to run into anyone of importance.”
“You ran into us.” The man grinned.
“Like I said,” He made an exaggerated effort of looking about. “No one of importance around here. You see anyone?” he asked Andrasta.
She snorted. Away from the nobility and their false personas, she no longer minded her partner’s tongue.
The leader of the group scowled. “Who do you work for?”
“We’re just hard-working entrepreneurs.” He leaned forward. “By the way, that means we work for ourselves.”
“I know what entrepreneur means.”
“Oh, excellent. Based on the confused look of everyone else in your group, I can see your startling intellect is why you’ve been selected the mouthpiece.”
The man’s scowl deepened. “You’re in Beladeva’s territory and he doesn’t take kindly to freelancers.”
“Beladeva again?” said Rondel. “Your boss is becoming a real pain. If he keeps bothering us, we may just have to do something about him.”
The group laughed. “That’ll be the day. Now, we’ll be taking your haul, your weapons, and your clothes.” He paused, eyeing Andrasta. “And maybe we’ll have a go with the lady while we’re at it, eh boys?”
Andrasta clenched her sword until her knuckles cracked. I’m going to enjoy this.
Rondel blew out a slow breath. “You had to go there, didn’t you?” He switched to Juntarkan. “Now, is good.”
Andrasta reached behind her back, withdrew a dagger at her waist, and flung it underhand at the sorcerer. It punched into his gut. The man’s dancing fingers stopped as he grasped at the blade.
The leader’s gaze had followed the throw. By the time he had the wherewithal to turn around, Andrasta had closed the distance between them. Too late in bringing his sword up to protect himself, her blow sliced off part of his unprotected skull, taking an ear in the process. She shouldered the man aside, and he tumbled into the alley below.
She caught a brief glimpse of Rondel engaging one of the other men before the remaining two pounced on her. She dodged a wide slash from the one on her right, grabbing the man by the shoulder and tossing him down. He slid down the sloped roof over the edge, but caught himself before falling. The second man spun, fleeing toward a nearby building.
Andrasta kneeled at the dying sorcerer, twisted her blade loose and threw it at the runner. It struck him in the back just as he cleared the gap between buildings. He landed awkwardly, twisting in agony on the opposite roof.
A shrill sounded behind her as the man who had been hanging onto the side fell after receiving a boot to the head from Rondel. The opponent he fought earlier lay dead with a bleeding hole in his chest.
“And you wanted to do another house?”
He clicked his tongue.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“Strange now that twice we’ve been attacked by Beladeva’s men. If I didn’t know any better I’d say Lela was setting us up. You did say she worked for him.”
“What do you mean if you didn’t know any better? I think it’s pretty clear.”
“Maybe with the first time because she did know Lord Rickar was going to the party at the palace. But she had no way of knowing we’d be here and doing this today. Still, it is a strange coincidence. We need to look into that connection more. We’ve let it slip.”
Shouting came from inside the home. Someone opened a window and screamed for the watch.
Rondel threw Andrasta her bag. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 18
Lela strode the granite hallways of her home and sighed. She passed a simple painting. It showed the lush green grass, tall pines, and the background of snowcapped mountains outside her window—but something about having it hanging on her wall, available to appreciate morning or night, regardless of season, made it all the better.
She wouldn’t consider her home gaudy, certainly not as extravagant as the Rose Palace where she once worked. However, two dozen rooms on several acres of land were more than she ever could have dreamed for.
She followed the sound of laughter from the hallway into a guest room. She walked to the window, careful to stay near the curtain as not to be seen. Kunal danced merrily with the woman from the village he had met a week ago. The two looked genuinely happy and for that, Lela smiled.
Despite all the hardships she had endured, losing her parents in war, almost losing her adopted uncle to drugs, and nearly losing herself to a life in Beladeva’s organization, she had finally found happiness.
And so has Kunal. I have paid him back for saving me all those years ago.
All because
of Rondel and Andrasta.
“Lela,” said the maid from behind.
A sweet woman in her early thirties, she spoke often of her three kids. Lela tried to turn away from the window to greet her, but found herself frozen. Her eyes remained transfixed on Kunal as the clear sky outside slowly darkened.
“Lela,” the maid said again.
What’s going on? Why can’t I move?
She began to panic when the beautiful landscape withered, turning brown and then black. The woman in Kunal’s arms faded. Moments later her uncle kneeled on the ground crying as he drank greedily from a bottle. She didn’t need to guess the contents inside.
She tried to scream, to pound her fists on the window as her uncle continued to drink the drug that had already claimed years of his life. She tried to run outside so she could fling the vile stuff away, but couldn’t move. Her eyes began to well. Kunal lay down on the blackened soil and died.
Tears came down in rivers as the voice shouting her name took on a harsher tone. Something grabbed her shoulders. Her world shook.
“Lela!”
* * *
“Lela! Wake up.”
She screamed. A hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the high pitched shrill. Lela thrashed about. Finally able to move, she had to get to her uncle.
“Gods, calm down. It was just a dream,” said a raspy voice.
Thick hands grabbed her flailing arms and pinned them to her sides. She opened her eyes and stared at the two familiar people. Blinking, she realized what had happened and felt like a fool.
Rondel studied her with a look of concern. Andrasta, annoyance.
It wasn’t real.
She relaxed and they released their grip.
“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I’m all right now.”
“Are you sure?” asked Rondel.
She nodded, moving over to the edge of the bed and collecting herself before standing. “I . . . I only meant to close my eyes for a few moments.” She looked to the window and saw the graying sky of day’s end. “I guess I was more tired than I realized.”
“Why are you here?” asked Andrasta. “Who let you in?”
“No one let me in. I climbed up the rainspout and came in through the window. I needed to talk to you and it couldn’t wait. Something’s come up.”
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