The other man leaned out of the car, and in his hand, a small but perfectly serviceable pistol. “We must insist, Sri Ythen. Get into the car.”
I could run, or yell. At that distance though, and where he was aiming, he could hardly miss and I was rather fond of my testicles for all they weren’t getting much use lately. “Is this necessary, Sri Vishva?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Get in.”
The two of them were more scared than I was. Provided the guy with the weapon didn’t set it off by accident, I thought I was probably safe. So I got into the back seat. Vishva locked the door and headed off at speed.
“Sri Ythen, I thought we had an agreement.”
“And what was that, Vishva?”
“That you would let me outbid any offer you had for your aunt’s collection. Including the shirt.”
“I said I’d consider it, Vishva. No promises. I’ve had a very generous offer. The shirt’s worthless. A fake. It’s not part of the gatha.”
Both men tensed up, angry. “You should not speak of such things,” the other guy growled.
“Yeah, yeah. Look, I know why you want that shirt, and I’m telling you, you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“We can’t take your word for it. Tanmay Kly must not have it.”
“And you must? Last I heard, you could see just fine, Vishva. You’re not one of the keepers.”
“Neither is he!” Vishva yelled. The auto swerved.
“Beloved reason, will you concentrate? Or pull over? This is ridiculous. Stop the fucking vehicle, Vishva. I’ve got a weapon too and unlike Sri Sweaty Palms, I know how to use it.” I whipped it out and put it against the guy’s head. “Now stop the auto or your friend will find out what it’s like to have a ventilated brain.”
Vishva barked something in Nihani and the other guy answered. The auto slowed and stopped, and I grabbed the guy’s weapon before he remembered he could still use it. “Better. Now knock this off, the pair of you. Vishva, Tanmay Kly is not going to get any of the gatha from me, okay? Neither are you. I’m going to make sure everything is returned where it belongs. Any more dramatics from you amateurs, and I’ll see you arrested and locked up for weeks while the chuma cops sit on their arses wondering how to make your lives miserable.”
“We can’t lose any more of our heritage to your people.”
“You won’t on my account. I give you my word.”
“Word of a chuma.”
“Word of a man descended from Sureni Kala Uday, a man who is matos, and employed by Roshni Deela Yatin. I’m not udawatha, but I respect your people. You can trust me.”
The guy I had a bead on muttered in Nihani, and Vishva answered him, before saying to me, “We are taught from a young age not to trust those with dark hair and dark eyes.”
“And I was taught from a young age that those with red hair and light eyes are all lazy thieves who never amount to anything. I can’t tell you any more because I hold a client’s trust, but Tanmay Kly won’t get what he wants.”
Looking at me over the back of the seat, Vishva nodded. “All right. You truly understand how important this is?”
“I truly do. Give me time. I’m not the only person working on it, and speaking of that, you’ve made me late for an important meeting. Give me a lift over to Tockta Street and we’ll call it quits.”
A sullen silence prevailed while Vishva obeyed, but the two of them exuded confusion, shame and anger. They were lucky. Pulling that stunt on another ex-cop would have ended up with them arrested at best, dead at worst. They were just kids—desperate, loyal kids, way out of their league.
Vishva let me out a few hundred metres from Roshni-ji’s house. “My hewiz,” his friend said, holding his hand out for the weapon.
“Uh uh. You’re not old enough to play with toys like this. If I hear about you threatening anyone else in this way, things won’t go so well. I admire what you’re trying to do, but you need to learn violence doesn’t solve anything. Go on home, beto.”
I slammed the door and the auto screeched away. I hoped Vishva had someone older and sensible to ask about this, but I doubted it. He needed a keeper of his own.
I ran as discreetly as I could to my appointment, but this time Shardul had the pleasure of being annoyed at my lateness. “I have an excuse,” I panted.
“I’m sure. Hurry up.”
Roshni-ji nodded at me as I came into her living room, but didn’t rise. “Welcome, Javen. I believe you’ve met my guest, Induma.”
I stared in shock at the young woman I’d last seen at Kly’s house. She didn’t look my way. “Uh, yes. Sorry I’m late.”
“Never mind that,” Shardul said. “I’ve had a number of discussions with Induma and she’s confirmed Tanmay Kly has the monuwel.”
“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” I asked Induma. She didn’t deign to acknowledge my question.
“Induma informs us Kly was not behind the theft here or at the other residence, and his intention is to return the monuwel after he’s finished with it,” Shardul said.
“Finished with it?”
Induma spoke for the first time. “Tanmay is dying. He’s afraid to die, but more than that, he’s afraid not to be reborn. He’s converted to udawa.”
I raised my eyebrows at Shardul, whose scepticism, as that of his aunt, came over loud and clear. “Okay. Then stealing the monuwel isn’t exactly the best way to be on side with the Spirit.”
“His fear is too great for rationality. He means no harm.”
“Then all we have to do is wait for him to give it back, right? No?”
Shardul made a face. “Unfortunately, Kly believes that such an important artefact should be kept in the museum under lock and key rather than in private hands. He cites the fact it was stolen this time as proof.”
“He does have a point.” I said. “Uh, sorry, Roshni-ji.”
“It’s not for Tanmay Kly to make that decision,” she said, keeping the anger I sensed out of her expression. “It’s not for any Kelon to do so. The monuwel is part of our tradition. It is our responsibility. My responsibility. Not his. Not any Kelon’s.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I got carried away. So what’s the plan, and why does he need it?”
Induma sighed. “He says he’s udawatha, but his instructor is—”
“—A complete lunatic,” Shardul interjected helpfully. “That’s Gagan. Gagan Warl. I’m still trying to find out more about him, but I don’t like what I’ve heard about him so far.”
“Yes,” Induma agreed. “On Tanmay’s property is the burial site of one of the Seeker’s incarnations. A sacred site.”
“One of many stolen by the chuma,” Shardul muttered.
“Carry on,” I said to Induma.
“Gagan had told Tanmay that if he drinks from the monuwel at the grave, and recites certain prayers, he will be viewed favourably by the Spirit. Even, possibly, to the point of being granted a cure, or at least a remission.”
“Nothing in our beliefs supports that,” Roshni-ji said firmly. “This Gagan is an impostor.”
“He’s udawatha too?” I asked.
“So he claims,” Induma said, her lips twisting in contempt. “He says he was married to one of our women before she divorced him. Personally I suspect he’s a fraud through and through.”
“Certainly a most cruel person, playing on a sick man’s mind like this,” Roshni-ji said.
“Yes,” Induma agreed. “He was the one who brought the monuwel to Tanmay. He has already had himself inserted into Tanmay’s will. I believe he may even be behind the theft of the monuwel, and the attempt on the sawret. I don’t know how Gagan learned of the gatha. Tanmay obtained a diary some years ago which, much against our traditions, recorded their existence and significance, with descriptions. None of us told him what it meant, but he has many contacts with our people. He can be persuasive, and there are some who will talk of such matters for money. I would not.”
“Induma’s grandmother was a keeper,” S
hardul explained to me.
“Why didn’t you come to Roshni-ji before this?” I asked. “If you feel so strongly, why didn’t you ask for help?”
“I love Tanmay.”
“You hate him.”
I sensed pain and shame from her, as her expression twisted. “I love him and sometimes I hate him. I pity him and I want to make sure he dies in full communion with the Spirit, for it will comfort him. I hoped to change his mind about the monuwel. But since your visit, he has talked of nothing but the sawret, and Gagan encourages him to believe that wearing it will increase the magic.”
“So what’s your plan?” I asked Shardul.
“We provide Kly with the fake, so he goes ahead with the ceremony without any further delay. While it’s in progress, you and I will gain access to his property with Induma’s help—which means it will be legal—and retrieve the monuwel.”
I held up my hands. “Whoa. No way. We have no proof he obtained the object unlawfully. The only people who can walk in and seize possibly stolen property are the police. And need I remind you I am not a cop any more?”
Shardul sneered. “Certainly we can contact the police. They might even listen to you. If they seize the monuwel, we’ll then be in a position of proving ownership on the testimony of a blind women—forgive me, muor—of something very few people have seen and of which there are no visual records. If the case goes to court, or even if Kly is charged, the publicity will mean our greatest secret will be exposed for all to pick over. So no. We don’t involve the police. If necessary, I’ll go on my own.”
“Great. So one of the best lawyers and advocates the banis have will end up in jail, and his career will be over. Not worth it, Shardul.”
“The monuwel must be returned to the keeper. Everything else is unimportant.”
“No, Shardul,” Roshni-ji said, turning her blind eyes upon him. “You’re wrong, and Javen is right. We need you. Remember the sacrifices we made to educate you. Remember how many hopes we place in you. No. I forbid it, by the power vested in my position.”
“I’ll retrieve it, if no one else can,” Induma said. “Only I think Gagan will try and stop me by force. He wants the monuwel very badly and I suspect it will never reach the museum.”
I sighed. “Okay, knock it off. I’ve had all the stupid self-sacrificing dramatic gestures I can deal with in one night. We need a better plan than this. I’ll send Kly a message to say my cousin is happy for him to have the shirt. That gives us at least a week to prepare. Shardul, you need to speak to Vishva and his friends and tell them to stop threatening people with guns or they’re going to end up in prison.”
He turned sharply towards me. “What?”
“I’ll explain later. Induma, we need all the dirt you can dig on this Gagan, because he’s the one we need to stop.” She nodded. “Roshni-ji?”
“I knew we were right to place our trust in you, Javen.”
“Thanks, though we still have to get the monuwel back.”
Induma stood. “I must go. I told Tanmay I was visiting my family. I have to be home before midnight.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Shardul said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She kissed Roshni-ji’s cheek in turn, knelt respectfully, then slipped out of the apartment.
“I too need to go, and you, Ythen. What’s this about Vishva?”
I explained, and showed him the confiscated weapon, shocking Roshni-ji when Shardul described it to her. “He was a very good boy. What happened to him?”
“He’s still a very good boy, ma’am, just going about things in the wrong way. But he needs to be sat on.”
“I’ll apply the appropriate buttock pressure,” Shardul said. “Now go.”
Roshni-ji put her hand on my arm. “Javen? Thank you for not having Vishva arrested.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. I don’t want to see good kids in prison any more than you do.”
Shardul walked me out, and he hailed a taxi for us. “I too should thank you,” he said grudgingly as we pulled up to the library.
“No need. I figure the debt’s still on my side. See you around,” I said, then hopped out.
I returned to my auto but didn’t drive home immediately. I sat, trying to think of a way to get this stupid cup back that wouldn’t end up with people arrested. Shardul was right though. Once the police were involved, given Kly’s high profile, the secret of the gatha would be public property. It might kill Roshni-ji, putting her through that.
Cops made the best criminals, they said. Looked like I was going to discover the truth of that.
~~~~~~~~
Ten days later, I was parked on a road near Kly’s estate, wishing I was anywhere but. I’d only had a few hours’ warning that tonight was the night when I would go against all my stated principles, and commit a serious crime for the first—and I hoped only—time in my life. Induma had convinced three of Kly’s employees to assist in letting me and Shardul into the estate and the house, where she would pass us the monuwel, and we were then supposed to high-tail it out of there. Shardul wasn’t supposed to be coming with me, and his aunt thought Harinakshi was going in his place. Instead, Harinakshi was our wheelman.
“I really hope he hasn’t got any fluria,” I muttered. They had a fierce bite and worse temper, and more than one cop bore the mark of their impressive teeth.
“Induma assures me he has not,” Shardul said, calm as if he was on his way to his office.
“She also says she doesn’t go out on the estate at night.” But she’d hear guards using fluria. I was just spooking myself.
“I believe it will be fine, Javen,” Harinakshi said. “The Spirit is with us.”
“The Spirit might be with you, but it doesn’t believe in me, or me in it. I’d rather trust in Shardul’s long legs and Induma’s planning.”
“On that point,” Shardul said. “Ythen, once we have the monuwel, I will treat that as my first priority. If we’re separated, I’ll come back here and not wait for you.”
“Your concern is touching, really,” I told him. “But you’re right. The least I want from this is to retrieve the bloody thing.”
“Don’t be disrespectful,” Shardul said.
“Stuff it up your arse. I’m telling you guys—we get this thing back? Then me and the Nihan are quits, okay? I’ve made reparations for whatever bad stuff my ancestors did to you. Clean slate, or no deal.”
Shardul twisted around to look at me. “If that’s what you want. It doesn’t work like that.”
“The hell it doesn’t. Okay, so I’m still a privileged chuma and I know squat about your culture. But between you and me? No more shit. Deal?”
“Very well. Deal. But we still have to retrieve it.”
Which was a lot easier said than done. Induma had only been able to give us the go ahead tonight because the monuwel had been brought from its secret store in preparation for the ceremony at the sacred site tomorrow. Security in the house would be high, and she couldn’t guarantee to disable it all. There was also the matter of the two of us having to run through a wooded estate at night, through unfamiliar terrain and for long distances, when the whole estate was wired for sight and sound.
It was close to midnight, but we had to wait for Induma’s signal. She had to make sure Kly was sound asleep before she left his bed, and that the house was quiet.
Another hour crept by before we received her quiet, “All’s clear. I’m ready.”
“Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Harinakshi said.
“What now?”
He bowed his head. “May the Spirit guide your enterprise, for it is just and noble. If you die in its execution, may the Seeker of the Spirit lead you to your new life and let that life be a good one.”
Charming. “Thanks, I think. Shardul, come on.”
Our entrance to the estate was at a gate in the high wall that surrounded it. Normally locked, but now opened and alarms disabled by one of Induma’s confederates, who waved us in. “We’ve placed UV flar
es to guide you. Your night vision goggles will pick them up. That way. Hurry.”
We headed off at a run, and I soon saw the bright light from the flare—invisible to the naked eye, as bright as an auto headlight from here. We were in communicator contact with Induma, but any warning she could give would almost certainly be too late. Better than nothing, but not much.
Every step seemed obscenely loud, though we ran as lightly as we could over thick turf, avoiding hard surfaces. I kept expecting to trigger one of the many sensors Induma said were scattered around the estate, or one of the security patrols, but after running for what seemed forever, the dim lights and looming shape of the mansion against the three moons, hove into view.
“We’re here,” I whispered to Induma. “Where do we come?”
“Wait for a light. Come to that side.”
We crouched behind a prickly bush that smelled of piss, peering towards the house.
“There.” Shardul pointed to a faint wavering light to the left.
We hunched over and ran to the window indicated. The second we were outside, Induma flung the window open, and shoved a small cloth-wrapped parcel into Shardul’s hands. “Go!”
We were already on our way, Shardul ahead of me, taking care of the monuwel as he’d said he would. We passed the first flare—three to go. But with the second flare in sight, Induma’s voice came over my earpiece.
“Gagan’s awake and knows it’s gone. Hurry!”
“Shardul, go!”
He picked up speed, quickly increasing his lead over me. Harinakshi was monitoring. He’d be ready to scoop and run, but would he wait for both of us?
Sirens, deafening, men shouting and lights coming on all around us in the distance. Second flare passed. Two more. Just two more.
“Ythen!”
“Just get the hell out of here! Go!”
He took off, and I did something I swore I wouldn’t do, which was play the bloody hero. I deliberately changed course, and changed my steps to make more noise, heading towards a gravel path. I didn’t plan to be captured, but I needed Shardul to get clear. I could climb a wall. I’d done it often enough. I just had to get there.
Lights heading towards me. I ducked and changed course. I could see the estate wall in the distance. I bolted through the undergrowth, keeping to dirt and turf again. Shardul was on his own now. I’d done what I could.
Different Senses Page 17
