Laldasa (15 page)

“Not at all simple, Jaya Rai. I had assumed it was my money they were after, that somehow I had tipped them to the fact that I was carrying it. But today, I watched them tail Hadas, offer him directions, even, all to lure him to a particular place so they could attack him. He wasn't carrying a large amount of money-“

“So they misjudged the situation. In your case-”

“In my case, they got lucky. I was wearing a money bag around my neck, when they grabbed my leaf, they got that as well. Jaya, they took Hadas's id. He said they didn't even search him for anything else. The id is what they were after all along.”

She was losing him. “Why?”

She stopped pacing and came to crouch, cat-like on the carpet before him, her pale eyes imprisoning his, “To make yevetha, Jaya Rai. To create exotic fodder for the dalalis. What could be more perfect? Avasans wear no cree. On Avasa, this isn't a problem, we lose our leaf, we get new. But here ... ” She shrugged. “We are dispossessed.”

“How-?” he began, and she told him how. Described seeing her own robber again, following him, stalking him as he stalked his own prey. And while she told him these things, Jaya felt as if a chill wind swept direct from some blasted Avasan plain through this, his inner sanctum.

“And if you catch them, what? If you make a complaint to the Sarngin, you'll have to have your palm read as well as submit leaf you don't have. You can't be the one to report this, Ana.”

“I'm not sure, Nathu Rai, that it would do either of us any good to report this.” She proceeded to tell him, then, about the pair of Sarngin who arrived on cue to take Hadas Gupta away to the dalali. “There was no discussion. No hesitation. No searching. They passed the thieves in the street, went in, secured him, and came out again.”

The wind grew ever more chill. “You think the Sarngin were in league with the thieves?”

“So it would seem. They take Avasans off the street and put them into dalalis.”

“So then, who's making it worthwhile for the thieves and the Sarngin? The dalalis?”

“One dalali is, anyway. Badan-Devaki.”

“How did you happen to trace him there?”

“I didn't have to trace him. They said they would take him to Badan-Devaki and so they did.”

She had his complete attention. “They said to whom? You spoke to them?”

She rose and turned away, made an odd wagging gesture with her head. “I wandered by and asked what dangerous thing such a nice-looking young man had done. They explained and I expressed a certain interest in Hadas.” She moved to gaze from the atrium doors overlooking the gardens.

He couldn't see her face; she was taking special care with the arrangement of her tunic's thigh-length skirts.

“I understand,” he said, counseling his rising temper to patience. ““They told you you could obtain the object of your desire at BadanDevaki. So you simply went there.”

“I wanted to contact you, but your grandmother decided to take things into her own hands. You know how she is.”

“Only too well. But you went along-“

“I didn't want to, at first, but I had to identify Hadas.”

“Who saw you—Kareen Devaki?”

“No. Ashur Badan was on the floor today. I was very well disguised.”

“Were you wearing a veil?”

“No. But I was made up quite heavily.”

“You weren't disguised, Ana. A man doesn't forget a face like yours—it haunts.”

She shivered at how close those were to the words of Ashur Badan. “You shouldn't say such things to me.”

“Why, because you're Rohin?”

“Because of our circumstances, Nathu Rai. Our worlds were not meant to collide.”

“No? Then why did they? You're Rohin. You're supposed to believe that some all-knowing, all-seeing deity is in control of our destinies.”

“I do believe that.”

“Then we must have been intended to meet for some reason.”

“Yes. Before we met, you didn't really care about what happened on Avasa or to Avasans. Now you do.”

Jaya considered that. “I wouldn't say I didn't care,” he said finally. “I would say I didn't want to care. I didn't want to get involved.”

“And now you do.”

“And now I do.” Though not, perhaps, with what Anala Nadim would consider pure motives.

“Our meeting has served a purpose, then. An important purpose.”

“That's too pat an answer, Ana.” He turned to watch her face in profile, feeling her pull, tide-like, at him.

“It's the only one I have.”

He was drowning, he thought. Drowning in metaphysical nuance and religiosity ... and desire. “Look, let's confine this conversation to practical issues for the moment. I need to extract a promise from you.”

She was at once wary. “A promise? What sort of promise?”

“That you won't pursue this matter any further on your own.”

“I wasn't on my own,” she prevaricated. “I had Kenadas at my side this morning and was in the capable hands of your Jivinta this afternoon.”

He came to his feet on a wave of impatience. “You're sidestepping the issue, which is one of character. You are very likely to take it upon yourself to pursue this. I ask you not to.”

“You ask?” She was regarding him slyly out of the corner of her eye.

“I ask.”

“When you could command?”

“As I said, it's an issue of character—yours. I appeal to your Rohin sense of responsibility.” He at once regretted how very sarcastic that sounded.

Her eyes, mirroring his impatience, picked at his thoughts. “Responsibility, Nathu Rai? To what? To whom? I am responsible, by my own choice, for finding out who is assaulting Avasan travelers and selling them. Other than that, I am responsible for my own actions to God and to no one else.”

“My grandmother has grown very fond of you, Ana. I won't let you be reckless with her affection.”

She seemed scandalized. “I would never willfully hurt Jivinta Mina. If you don't know that about me, your own lack of insight is at fault. Jivinta is part of my responsibility to Sanat-ji. The two are not separable. Besides, Jivinta is behind what I'm doing. She supports me in it.”

“Implying that I don't?”

Ana made a futile gesture. “You're always angry. I begin to believe it's your natural state.”

He had to ponder that for a moment—to check the set of his face, wonder what she read in his eyes. Anxiety was there, he was certain. Impatience also. Did those things appear to the outside world as anger?

“Odd,” he said. “I've always stood accused of being good-natured to the point of frivolity—of taking too little seriously. Until now,” he added wryly, “my life has been relatively free of irritants. I haven't found it necessary to be angry. I'm not very good at it.”

“Why is it necessary now? Why not stop being angry before you do get good at it?”

What did he say? What could he say? That he was jealous of her adventurous nature? Or worse, that he had the sudden, insane conviction that in threatening her own life, she threatened his as well?

“What's the matter?” she asked, and sounded more concerned than sarcastic.

He shook his head, his anger oozing away like water from a cracked bowl. “You are the matter,” he said, half to himself.

“Do you to intend to begin fasting, or shall I have Heli serve your meal?” Jivinta Mina stood in the doorway, her eyes daring Jaya to challenge her for her day's work.

He didn't. All he said was, “And what are we doing to do with our new foundling, Jivinta? I must assume you don't mean to keep him as das.”

“I intend to get his leaf replaced.”

“Falsified leaf?”

Mina's brows formed a snowy exclamation. “Of course. We could hardly get the real article on demand.”

Was this woman speaking so calmly of circumventing the law really his grandmother?

“What kind of leaf was he wearing? It would be next to impossible to fake one of these.” He pulled his own id out of the neck of his tunic. The delicately faceted oval crystal spat varicolored fire into the room.

“He had metal leaf,” said Ana. “Most of the colonies are still using the old id system.”

Jaya was unconvinced. “Even so, he couldn't get off-world. He couldn't pass the id-scan.”

“But he can go freely about Kasi,” said Mina. “As long as he doesn't try to use his community credit, no one would have any reason to subject his leaf to a scan.”

“Then what?”

“We'll have to get word to his family somehow. Try to get someone to bring the id to Mehtar. The Gupta family isn't involved in this thing with the Consortium—at least not directly. His family owns an inn.”

“Rani Sarojin,” said Ana quietly, “every family in the mining provinces are involved in this thing with the Consortium. Whether they are miners, darumen, or merchants. Nor, I think, do these thieves ask whether we are in the Guild before they steal our lives from us. There is no guarantee the leaf would reach Hadas safely and having it ferried here could put yet another life in danger.”

“But, if we can't bring duplicate id from Avasa-“

“Then,” said Ana, “we must catch the thieves and get our id back.”

Jaya laughed. “Just like that?”

“Why not? Now I know approximately where they strike—between the spaceport and the Nahar. And I know who they strike. And why.”

“It's unlikely they'd keep the id, Ana. Chances are they destroy it. Or perhaps they've found a way to make more money from it. They could sell it to people who need to assume a false identity for some reason ... fugitives perhaps. Or they could ransom it to your families, who would then have to buy your freedom. Remember, these are people who will squeeze what benefit they can from any situation.”

“I paid 8,000d for Hadas,” said Jivinta Mina dryly, “but only 1500d for a healthy young Mehtaran serving girl. I think that clearly illustrates the economics of the situation. An exotic item brings more profit. I can only imagine how much Ana would have brought at auction.”

Jaya suppressed the urge to glance at Ana's face. He kept his eyes on his grandmother, recalling how keen Ashur Badan had been to impress him with the dalali's success. Had Badan-sama and Devaki-sa worked out a unique way to gain a competitive edge? Nausea circled the pit of his stomach, restless, looking for a place to lodge. In spite of this, he asked Jivinta Mina to have Heli serve, promising he and Ana would be in shortly.

“Your promise?” he asked when his grandmother had gone.

“I have made no promises,” she returned quietly.

“Ana, please. I am trying to be respectful of you. I am trying not to make demands.”

“I am trying not to make promises I can't keep.”

You're trying my patience, he thought wryly. “And I am attempting not to make threats I don't want to keep. Ana, make me this promise—don't make me force the issue.”

“It is said that force is the refuge of the desperate.”

His patience evaporated. “Damn your Rohin platitudes! Stop throwing them in my face.”

She rounded on him, pale eyes frigid. “You are willing to throw my ‘Rohin platitudes' in my face when it suits you, mahesa. You call so eloquently on my honor, my virtue, my honesty—when you have need of them.”

“I don't consider your honor a platitude. Do you?”

“Excuse me, Nathu Rai. I believe my dinner is getting cold.”

He stopped her when she would have gone—blocking her path to the door. She turned away, fluttering between him and the windows like a trapped bird. He watched her for a moment, pondering his next move, his next words. Whatever they were, most likely they would drive her further into her pious fury. He chose to be conciliatory.

“I'm sorry, Ana. I don't mean to lose patience with ... ” That didn't sound conciliatory. “May we start again? I believe that if you give me your word you'll keep it. I trust you to be both honest and honorable with me.”

He cringed, realizing he was doing exactly what she had just accused him of. That this had not escaped her registered clearly on her very expressive face.

“Will you at least promise me this: that you will not leave this house without letting someone know where you are going?”

She turned slightly toward him, her eyes assessing, her expression not quite contrite. “If I make you this promise, will you be less angry?”

He was surprised into laughter. “Would you have me make a promise I can't keep?”

“I suppose that wouldn't be fair, would it?” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I promise I will not leave this house without letting someone know where I am going. And now, Nathu Rai, if you are ready for dinner, I would like to introduce you to my ‘cousin,' Hadas.”