“That is...more plausible,” said Zash. “I employ fourteen people, and the possibility always exists for a grudge against one’s employer. But I am not aware of anyone who would be that angry at me.”
“Have you had to dismiss anyone because of your blighted trees?” asked Mandir.
“Eventually I will have to,” said Zash. “But I haven’t done it yet.”
“Do they know that?” asked Mandir.
“They’re aware,” said Zash.
Silence descended, and Taya could think of nothing more to ask. “I think we’ve seen enough for now.”
As they made their way through the banana fields back to the house, Mandir took up his customary position in the rear, keeping a protective eye on Taya and a suspicious one on Zash. There was something about the man that rubbed him wrong. He’d half hoped Zash would try to hide the fact that he’d kept his sister in chains. Then he would have caught the man in a lie, or at least an omission of the truth. But Zash had admitted it outright, leaving Mandir with no certainty, only a sense of vague unease.
He could see no plausible motive for this crime. Why would the jackal murder a madwoman who spent her days chained up in a prison in the middle of a banana field? It didn’t make sense. Either there was more to the story—could Amalia have had a lover, possibly someone Zash hadn’t known about?—or else the only person he knew of with a motive to kill Amalia was Zash himself. Amalia was a burden to Zash, even a danger, so he’d claimed. He would have heard about the crimes of the jackal in Hrappa. Could he have seen an opportunity and killed his own sister, and then blamed it on this nameless jackal?
Perhaps he was being too suspicious. It was possible he was letting his personal dislike for Zash color the facts of the case. But the facts were thin, begging to be embellished, and he didn’t have much more than his gut sense to rely upon.
Ahead of him, Taya and Zash were exchanging their life stories. Taya had regaled him about her education at the temple and how she’d become a fire seer. Then Zash told her his family history. Apparently his was no ordinary farming family. Zash was literate, and his mother and paternal grandmother had been artisan caste. His family’s wealth had allowed the men to marry up-caste and bring additional skills and knowledge into the fold. Taya asked Zash about his own marriage plans, but Zash was coy on the subject. Mandir had a feeling Taya’s question was not a casual one.
He’d seen the way Taya looked at Zash. It was a look she’d once aimed at him, for a single day at Mohenjo Temple, before he’d fouled everything up. For days, in Hrappa, he’d been trying to get her to look at him that way again and failing. Now Zash was getting the look, and he hadn’t put any effort into it at all. All he’d done was walk up and introduce himself.
At least Mandir had one point working in his favor: Taya wasn’t the sort of woman to fling herself at a man. Some women’s passions flared like the flames of Isatis. Their love was volatile and capricious, roaring to full strength in an instant, and disappearing just as quickly, never to be awakened again. But other women loved like Lalan, the life-goddess, their passion awakening a little at a time, like a seed laying down roots for weeks before emerging in shyness to peek at the sun. Such love took longer to become established, but it was worth nurturing because it could thrive indefinitely, each year increasing in strength and complexity and beauty. Taya might be a disciple of Isatis, but she loved like Lalan. She would not rush into a man’s arms. Not his, and not Zash’s either.
As they reached the end of the trail and left the banana field, Zash turned. “You must be thirsty after that walk in the midday heat. May I offer you something to drink before you go?”
Mandir said nothing. Whatever game was afoot, he wanted to see it played out.
Taya said, “That would be quite welcome.”
Zash led them into the house and seated them at a worn wooden table. “Do you like banana beer?”
“I love it,” said Taya. “Haven’t had it in years.”
“Never tried it,” said Mandir.
“It’s an acquired taste,” warned Taya.
Mandir shrugged. As Zash headed out of the room, he rose to follow.
“Sit,” commanded Zash. “You’re my guest. I’ll bring everything.”
“No, I insist on helping,” said Mandir, knowing he sounded sarcastic and not really caring.
Zash sent him an unfriendly look and headed down a stairway into a rough-hewn cellar. He opened a chest and pulled out three ceramic mugs, which he set on a dusty bench.
“Let me have a look at those,” said Mandir.
“Go ahead,” said Zash.
Mandir examined the mugs, making sure nothing lurked in the bottoms. They were clean.
Zash filled the mugs from a wooden cask.
Mandir pointed at one of the mugs. “Before we go upstairs, I want you to drink from that cup.”
“Why?” said Zash. “You think I want to poison you?”
“Humor me,” said Mandir.
With a snort of exasperation, Zash raised the foaming mug to his lips. When the cup was half drained, he set it down forcefully, splashing a little liquid on the bench. “Satisfied?”
“Why aren’t you married?” asked Mandir.
Zash blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’ll ask the questions,” said Mandir. “You answer them.”
“Is this an interrogation?” Zash shook his head. “If you must know, I’m not married because my financial situation is uncertain. I may lose all this—” He waved an arm to indicate the cellar and, presumably, the surrounding house and lands. “—within the year. It’s not a good time to start a family.”
“The lady’s not for you,” said Mandir.
“What?”
“Taya,” said Mandir. “She’s not for you.”
“You might as well be speaking the mountain tongue, because I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” said Zash.
“Don’t play dumb. I see the way you look at her.”
Zash snorted and topped off his mug from the cask. “Do you interrogate every young man you run into in this way?”
“No,” said Mandir. “Only the ones who chain up their mad sisters.”
Zash set down the cask. His dark eyes smoldered. “You’ve never dealt with madness. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Stay away from my partner.”
“She’s a grown woman. She’s capable of choosing her own friends. And her lovers.”
“If you try anything with her, you’ll see what I’m capable of.”
“I’m sure she didn’t ask you to come down here and threaten me,” said Zash. “If this is how you behave, I can see why she hasn’t chosen you.” He picked up a second mug and headed up the cellar stairs.
Mandir picked up the third mug and followed, smarting from Zash’s words, which were uncomfortably close to the truth.
Back at the table, Zash handed Taya one of the mugs and sat down. Mandir sat down with his own. Taya sipped tentatively from her banana beer at first, and then drank deeply. “Zash, you’re a master. This takes me right back to my childhood. What do you leaven with, finger millet?”
“Pearl,” said Zash.
“Well, that explains it,” said Taya. “It’s a tiny bit different from what I remember.”
Mandir took a swig and immediately wished he hadn’t. The brew was sour and foul-tasting, not to mention strongly alcoholic. He badly wished he could spit it out. Instead, he gritted his teeth and swallowed.
Taya laughed. “Mandir, you should see the look on your face. I told you it was an acquired taste.”
“It’s never been popular among the higher castes,” admitted Zash.
“You drank this as a child?” Mandir sputtered, setting down the mug.
“I did,” she said gaily.
“You know there are drinks that actually taste good.”
“This does taste good. Zash, do you make wine too?”
�
��I do,” he said, and they launched into a spirited discussion of ripening and fermenting methods, the best varieties of bananas to use, and other things that Mandir couldn’t possibly comment intelligently on. Instead he sat and listened, leaving his banana beer untouched, reflecting on the painful fact that for all the years he’d known Taya, he had never once had a conversation with her that was as lively and as full of smiles and laughter as the one she was having with Zash right now.
Every so often, Zash glanced over at him, looking smug, and Mandir knew exactly what that bit of eye contact meant. Look how much better she responds to me than to you. He was beginning to regret his bit of bluster down in the wine cellar. He ought not to have premonished himself so obviously, and maybe Zash had a point. Taya did have the right to choose her lovers—she’d exercised it already by refusing him at Mohenjo—and perhaps his jealousy was part of what was driving her away from him. He thought he’d tamed his darker urges at Rakigari. Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d thought he was acting appropriately as Taya’s quradum by protecting her from a man he deemed suspicious. Or was he just isolating her and chasing away rivals like he’d done at Mohenjo?
Gloomily, he fixed his gaze on Taya. She was pretty when she smiled. If only he could elicit more smiles from her himself. And the headdress—he’d done a nice job on it, but for some reason he didn’t like it as much as he’d thought he would. It was too perfect. Taya didn’t look like herself.
“Speaking of bananas and farming,” said Zash, “I have a request.”
“What’s that?” said Taya.
“I told you I paid the Coalition to heal my trees. And they did the job, but the trees sickened again,” said Zash.
“I know. I’m terribly sorry,” said Taya.
Mandir smiled inwardly. He had a feeling he knew what was coming, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Zash, who’d been doing so well, was about to be caught outside the city walls with the Lioness breaching her banks.
“I cannot afford to pay them again,” said Zash. “In fact, I couldn’t afford it the first time—I had to borrow money. Normally I avoid debt, but in this case, my reasoning was that once my trees were healthy, my earnings from the harvest would be enough to cover repayment. However, when the trees sickened again so soon, I was not able to pay it off, and sadly it remains unpaid.”
Mandir broke in. “Whom did you borrow the money from?”
“Bodhan isu Kasirum. A cloth merchant in Hrappa.”
He glanced at Taya, who met his eyes with raised brows.
“The debt is several years old now. I managed to put Bodhan off by paying him interest, but this year he insists on full payment. My only chance of coming up with the money is to have a good harvest this year, and that means healthy trees. You are Coalition members. I’m sure you are capable—”
“We cannot do it,” said Taya. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“My understanding is that while there are Coalition members who specialize in plant healing, any ilittum is capable of the task, and given that I’ve already paid for this service once—”
“It’s not that we’re not capable,” said Taya. “And I certainly sympathize with your situation. If it were strictly my decision, I would do it. A blighted tree is an offense against nature, and if I could, I would heal every one I saw.”
Zash spread his hands. “Then what’s stopping you?”
“The law,” said Taya. “Coalition services must be paid for. Our organization is impartial. It is casteless and apolitical. If we charge some people for our services, and offer others our services for free, we would be engaging in favoritism and, ultimately, corruption. Our laws in this area are extremely strict, and there are no exceptions.”
“Well, that’s rather harsh,” Zash muttered.
“I can see why you would perceive it that way,” said Taya. “I truly am sorry.”
Mandir watched the two of them with great interest. If Zash dropped the subject here, he still had a chance with Taya. It was not unreasonable for him to ask for the favor, if he genuinely didn’t understand Coalition law. But Mandir had a feeling Zash wasn’t going to stop here. He’d thought Zash had been turning on the charm because he wanted to get Taya in bed. But it was clear now that what he really wanted was for her to save his farm.
Zash leaned forward and lowered his voice. “No one needs to know. You could just come here in the dead of night and heal the trees, and who’s to say it was you who did it?”
Taya shook her head.
Zash’s face darkened. “If it’s payment you want—I can’t afford much, but I can give you a little. For yourselves, you understand, not your organization. And more later, when I have it.”
Taya stiffened in affront. “I don’t want your money.”
“You insult her,” said Mandir, privately enjoying the spectacle, but also watching Zash closely. The man was becoming angry, and for some men anger could turn to violence. “Taya will never take a bribe.”
“What do you want?” cried Zash.
“Nothing,” said Taya.
Zash slammed his hand on the table. “There’s got to be something!”
“The Coalition will burn her alive,” snarled Mandir, placing a protective arm in front of Taya. “Is that payment enough for you—her death?”
“They won’t burn her, because nobody will tell them,” said Zash.
“I cannot do it,” said Taya miserably.
“We’re finished here,” said Mandir. “Come on, Taya.” He took her hand and pulled her away from the table.
“How you can live with yourselves is beyond me,” cried Zash from behind them. “You and your impartial organization that bankrupts honest farmers. I paid you a fortune already, and for what? My family worked this land for generations!”
Mandir felt Taya’s hand go rigid within his. “Ignore him,” he whispered as he led her out the door. They made their way to the horses, which Rasik had unsaddled for the hours they’d been in the banana fields. Mandir saddled his blood bay. Taya’s fingers shook, and she struggled to tack her mare. “I’ll get it.” He tightened Pepper’s girth strap. “Look,” he said. “The Coalition didn’t bankrupt Zash. The blight did. And we didn’t cause the blight.”
“But we can cure the blight. And he paid once already.”
He slipped the reins over Pepper’s head and handed them to Taya. “We don’t make the rules.”
She leapt up on the mare, and he mounted his blood bay. Rasik rode up to join them.
“I feel we’ve done him a terrible injustice,” said Taya.
“Stop thinking that right now,” said Mandir. “He asked you to break a law that could result in your execution. And you’re the one who did wrong?”
Taya bit her lip.
“Come on,” he barked, sending the blood bay into a trot. He glanced back and saw that Taya’s and Rasik’s horses were following.
As they neared the trailhead that led away from the house, Zash burst out the front door and ran toward them. “Wait! Wait!”
The blood bay threw up his head at this surprise appearance, and Pepper half reared.
“Leave him,” said Mandir. “Let’s go.”
“No,” said Taya, wheeling her mare. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t say it with a knife,” Mandir said through gritted teeth as he kneed the blood bay toward Zash. The farmer didn’t appear to be armed, but he was carrying two long-necked amphoras.
Zash approached Taya and bowed his head. “Forgive me,” he panted. “It was wrong of me to ask such a thing. You are a woman of integrity. I know you cannot change the laws of your organization. Please accept this gift as recompense, and know that I would never have lost my temper if not for the desperation of my circumstances.” He handed her one of the amphoras and gave the other to Mandir. “It’s banana wine.”
“Thank you,” said Taya. “I’m truly sorry.”
Minutes later, they were trotting down the trail, on their way back to Hrappa.
Taya lifted the top of her amphora and sniffed. She closed her eyes. “I feel terrible for him. None of what happened was his fault.”
“Well,” grunted Mandir, “remember that this is a man who used to chain up his sister.”
“His mad sister.” Taya sighed. “I’m not sure what to think about that.”
Mandir wasn’t sure what to think about it either, but it was suspicious enough that as her quradum, he wasn’t going to let Taya drink the banana wine. There was too big a risk it had been tampered with. And he wasn’t looking forward to disappointing her with that news.
“He’s the first person I’ve met out here who’s actually been nice to me,” added Taya.
Mandir glanced at her, stung. The first person who’d been nice? Did he not count?
Chapter XIV
Hrappa
THEY ARRIVED BACK AT THE guesthouses to find an early dinner waiting for them: sesame bread dipped in oil and a dish of barley, peas, and onions. Even though Taya knew the onions would be old and soft, and the peas rehydrated, her stomach rumbled—their long trip out to Zash’s estate had caused her to miss lunch. Food was poor in quality this early in the season of Lalan. The new plants were too young to produce, so everyone was eating last year’s grain and stored vegetables. Taya would kill for a plate of fresh greens right now.
Spying the food on her table, Mandir disappeared through the courtyard door and soon reappeared, carrying identical dishes from his own guesthouse. He set them down opposite hers.
Taya touched a finger to the clay teapot that had been left with her meal. Finding it cool, she reached for the banana wine.
“Sorry,” said Mandir. “I can’t let you drink that.”
She blinked at him. “Why not?”
“It might be poisoned.”
“That’s ridiculous. The beer wasn’t poisoned.”
“I made sure of that,” said Mandir. “That’s why I went down to the cellar with Zash.”
“Really? You thought he might poison us in his own household?” Taya shook her head. “You can’t run around thinking anything and everything might be poisoned. What about this food? By your logic, it could be poisoned too.” She indicated the barley and peas.
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 193
