The Tower of Bashan

by Joshua P. Simon

  Andrasta grunted. “All right, give me the notes.”

  Sometime later, Lela slid over the edge of the balcony. Rondel and Andrasta had done little for the better part of an hour except read and share a cold meal. It didn’t seem they’d do much more any time soon. The thought of sleep made Lela aware of her own fatigue, but she pushed thoughts of sleep aside as the cold rain pattered down. Drops slid down the back of her neck and under her sari.

  She shivered while working her way down the wall of the inn. Though the drumming rain masked any noise she might make, it did little for her grip. Near the bottom, her foot slipped. She fell the last several feet to the ally floor.

  Suppressing a yelp, she stood slowly and examined the scrapes on her knee and elbow before heading out of the alley. Chand stepped out of the shadows before she reached the main road.

  She tried not to look surprised. “Do you want my report now?”

  “No. Beladeva will want to hear it from you personally. Come.”

  * * *

  “Well?” Rondel asked.

  Andrasta moved away from the curtain. She betrayed us. “I was right. It was Lela. I told you I heard something. Blasted rain made it hard to hear her sooner. She slipped at the bottom, and met that big guy I saw following us on the way back to the inn. I think he’s also the one that threw her in the wagon last night.”

  Rondel swore. “I had hoped her help was genuine.”

  “Doesn’t seem that way.”

  “No.”

  “Makes me wonder if that stuff with her uncle is even real or if that was part of whatever con she’s working.”

  “If it wasn’t real then they’re both in the wrong line of work. They’d make a killing in the theater.”

  Andrasta strapped on her sword. “Considering they’ve been putting one over on us, I’d say they’re in the right line of work.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I need to get going before I lose her.”

  Again.

  “All right. Just confirm what’s going on. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll have us packed, squared away with the innkeeper, and ready to go by the time you get back. We’ll worry about how best to handle what’s going on once we get settled into a new location.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Any trouble Andrasta thought she might have had following Lela was cast aside as the large man led her casually through the city. The few people braving the weather turned their way, eyes going first to the man, then to Lela. Some did a double take. Some bowed. Others hurried off without a second glance.

  A man who has little to fear.

  Andrasta kept her distance, moving among the shadows and over the rooftops.

  Eventually they reached a part of the city near the docks. It consisted of old warehouses with crumbling mortar and blackened walls from both grime and soot.

  A pair of guards stood outside a first-level entrance to one of the more rundown buildings on the block. They stepped aside for the two to enter.

  Andrasta left the shadows, ran across the street, and found purchase on a pockmarked wall away from the front entrance. She climbed, reaching the top quickly. As was common among other buildings in the area, several skylights protruded from the top of the flat roof. She moved to the nearest and peered inside.

  At least a hundred people, ranging in age from younger than Lela, to so old they could barely stand on their own, worked tightly around tables mixing powders and liquids. Though Andrasta had never been one to experiment with drugs, she had no trouble recognizing the production of them.

  She hustled along the roof to the next closest skylight, pausing briefly to watch workers package what she assumed to be finished products.

  Two more skylights later, near the back corner of the warehouse, she found Lela. The man with her led her into one of several partitioned rooms. In the room sat a man dressed all in white except for a black turban atop his head. A jade jewel sparkled in the center of the turban. A dozen armed men stood around him.

  That’s got to be Beladeva.

  Andrasta whipped out her dagger of Relian steel, prying open the skylight. Activity in the warehouse below masked the grating noise the hinges on the skylight produced.

  A strong tar-like scent assaulted her. She dropped inside onto a rafter, swung over to another beam, and hustled across the narrow, makeshift walkways crisscrossing the high ceiling until she hovered above the room where Lela recounted her report of the meeting between Princess Mira and Lord Rickar.

  The man she spoke to grunted. “Obviously, this major house she spoke of is Brahma. His involvement could complicate things.”

  “He won’t get involved though unless the princess can muster an army.”

  “For now. But he’s too powerful to assume he’ll remain cautious. What about Rondel and Andrasta? Have you spoken with them?”

  “No. But I did spy on them at the inn. They’re much further along than where they were before, but not quite where they need to be. Rondel said he needs more time to find a key among the tower’s glyphs in order to ensure he’s reading them correctly. He plans to stall Mira in hopes of getting the prince to place him on the guest list for the tower party before the Raivataka festival. He wants to study the glyphs more then. Afterward, it sounds like they’re going to try to break in as soon as possible.”

  Andrasta squeezed the rafter she crouched upon, angry at the young girl for betraying them, angrier still that her plan to steal the jewel of Bashan seemed to grow ever more complicated.

  “Good,” said the man in the turban. “It sounds like we know more than enough to make sure things continue as we need them to.”

  “You mean I don’t have to continue spying on the princess any longer?”

  “No. She’s desperate and running out of options. If we eliminate Brahma, she has nothing.”

  “And Rondel and Andrasta?”

  “They’re too much of an unknown and have already proven themselves to be a problem.” He turned to the man at his right. “Chand, take some men and go to their inn. Capture them alive. At least Rondel, anyway. He seems to have all the information on the jewel.”

  “Does that mean I’m all right to keep working for you?” asked Lela.

  The man in the turban shook his head. “No. I have no more use for you and you’ve tried to play me once before. I don’t believe in second chances.”

  So, she tried to work several angles. Help us all and see who is closest to success before committing. But now we know and she has no one left to help her.

  Andrasta needed to get back to Rondel to warn him. She turned on the rafter toward the skylight.

  “But you have my uncle! Why would I betray you? I can still be of use.”

  Andrasta paused. All because of the uncle. Too bad.

  She felt a tug in her chest, and swore to herself. Don’t. You aren’t Rondel.

  She inched forward again.

  “No. I had your uncle,” said Beladeva. “He died a few hours ago. Too much opium it would seem.”

  “You’re lying!” screamed Lela.

  “No. And as you reminded me, without your uncle, I can never fully trust you.” Andrasta looked over her shoulder as Beladeva stood. He patted Chand on the shoulder. “Before you go after Rondel and Andrasta, take care of her.”

  Andrasta’s hands balled. Don’t get involved. It’s too much risk. She made her choice. She made the jewel that much harder to get.

  Beladeva left the room. Chand walked to Lela. The girl was on her knees sobbing. “Get up, Little One.”

  Lela didn’t move. Chand’s open hand struck her. Andrasta jerked in surprise, anger crawled across her skin. Just turn around and go.

  Chand gestured to the shadows. “Get her on her feet and bring her outside. We’ll do it by the docks.”

  Just go.

  The two men picked up the limp little girl whose soul seemed crushed.

  Just go.

  They carried Lela out of the room and through the warehouse.

 
Just go.

  She wondered what Rondel would do in her situation and immediately regretted doing so.

  Just go.

  A door opened and the two men dragged Lela outside to meet her fate.

  Andrasta clenched her jaw and went after them.

  * * *

  Too weak to do much of anything, Lela let the guards drag her, thick hands under each arm. The tops of Lela’s feet scraped over the ground, yet she barely noticed. She was too numb.

  Lela was no stranger to pain. She knew loss and sorrow like she knew her own skin. Losing both her parents at the age of four nearly killed her. When Kunal saved her, he repaired not only her physical health, but her mental state as well.

  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 know
ledge 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.”