Laldasa (33 page)

“I have, myself, a rather disturbing announcement to make,” she said. “We were expecting to be able to bring Rokh Nadim before this Council in the very near future. However, his arrival is now in question. Rokh Nadim seems to have disappeared.”

In the hushed wake of that lightning strike, the Deva glanced up at Taffik Pritam who sat silently in the AGIM box flanked by two younger Guilders.

Nigudha Bhrasta chuckled.

“You have some comment, Bhrasta-sama?” asked Radha.

He shrugged. “Only that a coward is as a coward does.”

Pritam started to rise, but was restrained by one of the younger men, who whispered something in his ear. He reseated himself, glaring at Bhrasta.

The Deva took a moment to arrange her robes about her.

“This situation has become quite convoluted,” she said at last. “We are dealing with a matter which will affect the lives of millions. There is much at stake. There are allegations of coercion leveled at a group connected to the Consortium, and I believe there is enough evidence to warrant an investigation of those allegations. The lives of our colleagues and the members of the Guild's guiding council are too precious to endanger by prolonging consultation. I therefore recommend that this entire matter of AGIM independence be remanded to the Inner Circle for closed consultation and resolution.”

There was relief in some faces, dismay in others, but it mattered little what the general members of the Vrinda Varma thought now. By laying it at the door of the Nine, Radha had effectively excluded the other Varmana from the discussion.

The members of the Circle sent their votes to the Deva's console. That it was unanimous was evident from the lack of subsequent discussion. Radha then set the next meeting of the Vrinda Varma for three days hence. The agenda for the meeting was summarily discussed and agreed upon.

Back to normal business then, Jaya thought as he rose to leave. New laws to enact, old ones to re-interpret, disputes to settle—though none so big as this one.

His console lit up, making him glance down at the screen. “Stay, please,” it said.

He glanced at Radha who made a small gesture with her hand. He stayed until the hall had cleared of all but the nine members of the Inner Circle. Sri Radha approached him herself.

“You will be available to us, Nathu Rai?” she asked.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

She was studying him intently. “Your ... your cousin, Nathu Rai, is Avasan.”

“Yes.” He felt his stomach tighten.

“Duran Prakash suggested to me before session that he thought that prejudiced you.”

Jaya relaxed. “That no longer bears on the consultation, does it?”

“No, but do you think it bears on the attack? Prejudice against Avasans is unfortunately common on Mehtar. Prejudice against the Genda Sita-“

Jaya felt exactly as if someone was squeezing his throat. “What ... makes you think Ana's Genda, Deva? Certainly, she's fair, but-”

“I noted at the Mesha Festival that her palms were unusually pale compared to the tone of her skin. It occurred to me that what little color she has may be the kiss of Mitras, rather than natural pigmentation. On Avasa, race is not the issue it has been here. There were many Genda Sita among the original colonists. Mining was one of the few types of work they were permitted to do on Mehtar once upon a time. I speak of age old prejudice, Jaya. It is alien to me and meaningless to me, except in that it may mean much to others.”

“I don't think Ana is Genda, Deva. I think she's just very fair.”

He caught himself, remembering, in a flash of heat, exactly how fair. He had seen the milky white of her breast—had touched it—but the sun never had. Did it matter? Did it change how he felt? Certainly, it had not curbed his desire. He made an abrupt gesture, deflecting the thought.

“I'm not blind to the possibility that my ... relationship with an Avasan could cause ill feelings. Race might bear on the attack if the attackers were what they claimed to be.”

“You forget, Nathu Rai, bigotry isn't solely the province of the poor. Ignorance has a place among the well-educated and powerful, as well. It had occurred to me that Ana, being Avasan and so close to a member of the Vrinda Varma, might be the target of the attack rather than yourself. Then, maybe it was only intended to look that way. You said they threatened her life. You indicated they knew of her. Did they see her in the car?”

Jaya shook his head. “No, Deva. They couldn't have. It has opaque glass. I gave Ana away. They mentioned her and when I reacted, they realized she was with me.”

“Then we must assume you were the target and it that coercion was the aim.” She put a hand on his arm. “We will call you, your cousin, and Ravi to testify. Until then, may God watch over you.”

The interview at an end, the Deva Radha moved away as if gliding on ice.

oOo

“Tara be praised! You're here, and not out getting into trouble!”

Ana looked up from her reader and grimaced. “I was afraid to go out.”

Jaya feigned astonishment. “You? Afraid? I've heard rumors of your exploits on Avasa. You can't tell me there's anything on Mehtar more fear-inspiring than a full grown—what did you call it?—a chandi cat.”

“There are Mehtarans on Mehtar. The hordes of Niraya hell are on Mehtar.”

Jaya didn't laugh; in his more cynical moments, he'd had similar thoughts. He crossed the study to sit opposite her at the window. “Ana, that's superstitious nonsense.”

“I was being facetious.” Ana looked down at the reader, marked her place with the press of a key and put the little machine down on the window seat. “What do you think the Worker's Coalition really is?” she asked.

“I'm not sure what to think.”

She pinned him with her eyes. “What does your heart say? What does your spirit tell you?”

“My ... intuition tells me the Consortium is involved on some level. At the very least, Nigudha Bhrasta was silently cheering today when I told them about the attack. At the worst ... ?” He shrugged.

Ana's gaze wandered outside. “This place is so confusing. So beautiful. So ugly.”

She turned her head to look at him and ambushed his eyes. He pulled them away, not wanting her to read them or know what he'd been thinking just then.

“Life on Avasa is hard,” she told him. “There's always a sand blow or a cave-in or a dead-end drill. People get hurt. People die. But they die cleanly. They don't die by politics.”

“They do now. Or at least they will if this situation continues.”

“I wonder if my father will be the first casualty.”

At the mention of her father, Jaya glanced away.

She caught the gesture and pounced on it. “What? What have you heard? What's happened?”

He raised his hands. “Ana, I can't. I can't discuss-“

She was on her feet. “Damn you, Sarojin! This is my father, not some abstract political cipher!”

“What about honor?” he asked, feeling heat. “What about fidelity? Are those just abstract spiritual ciphers? What about my responsibility to the Vrinda Varma? Am I supposed to overlook that because you demand it?”

Ana stared at him, shame clear on her face. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't realize what I was asking.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then glanced away. “It's all right. I understand what this means to you, believe me.”

She made an indecisive gesture. “I can always go to cousin Taffik.”

“No. No, you can't. Ana, you can't be linked to AGIM. That would throw both of us into the fire.”

“Then what can I do?”

The tone of her voice, the look in her eyes, brought swift empathy and opened a flood gate on memories he thought he'd safely dammed. Memories of waiting, helplessly, for hit and run death to complete its task; to leave the House Sarojin without its head, to turn his mother into a cynical stranger, to thrust him into a life of political significance.

“I'll have Ravi contact Pritam. We'll find out what's going on, Ana. I promise you.”

She shook her head, subsided into her chair. “I ask too much.”

“No, you don't. I sometimes imagine that you do.”

His eyes were drawn to her hands, draped loosely over the arms of the chair. He noticed, probably not for the first time, how white were the moons of her fingernails in contrast to the pale gold of her skin.

She caught him staring, tucked her hands into her lap. “What?” she asked. Her pale eyes held both bemusement and suspicion.

The question pressed at his lips, willing him to ask. He found, within himself, an innocent enough way to ask it.

“The Deva Radha drew me aside after the assembly today to ask about the attack on us. She ... asked me if I thought it might be racially motivated—at least in part.”

Ana shrugged. “I'm Avasan.”

“That wasn't what she meant. She thought perhaps some people who care about such things had gotten the idea that you were Genda Sita. She pointed out to me that many of the original Avasan colonists were.”

Ana neither replied nor reacted. Instead, she merely watched him watching her and waited. He opened his mouth to frame the words.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I have Genda Sita blood. There are probably very few Avasans who don't. It is simply more evident in some of us than in others. Does it matter?”

Does it matter? In what context was she asking that question? In what context was he to answer it?

“It shouldn't,” he said.

“Excuse me, Jaya Rai.” Ari peeked cautiously around the tall, carved door of the study. “There is a Sarngin to see you. A Zone Commander Gar.”

Jaya shot Ana a significant glance. “Please send him in, Ari.”

Ari nodded. “I'll bring a tray.”

“You,” Jaya told Ana, “go into the next room.”

“I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “I don't trust him, Ana. If he sees you here, he just might conclude that you're my informant.”

“If he sees the color of my skin, you mean.”

The words froze him. “Go.”

“Jaya-“

“A Kasian Sarngin is going to think it very peculiar that a young Rani is included in a discussion of dalalis, thieves, and corruption. Go.” He gestured toward the door to the Court Parlor.

Ana moved quickly, scooting into the next room and concealing herself behind the slightly ajar door. When Mall Gar had entered and presented himself to Jaya, she dared peek around the slab of carved wood. The Zone Commander's back was toward her, so she allowed herself the luxury of watching as well as listening.

“You're out of uniform, Commander,” observed Jaya, seating him.

“Even the Sarngin may take days off, Nathu Rai. I'm ... not here in an official capacity.”

“Then what may I do for you, Gar-sama?”

Even from her oblique angle, Anala could tell the Zone Commander was ill at ease. Beneath his leather jacket, a pry-rod straight back spoke of great discomfort.

“I am not ... pleased to be here, Nathu Rai. I was disturbed by your visit. It raised my curiosity. No, it did more than that. It raised suspicion. I talked to some of the rookie patrolmen on the Warrows. I asked if they had noticed an upsurge in the number of Avasan yevetha they were finding. Some said ‘yes,' some said ‘no.' I asked if they had been given specific orders about where any yevetha were to be taken. Again, some said ‘yes' and some ‘no.'”
 

Jaya sat forward, not bothering to hide his interest. “And those who said ‘yes?'”

“Told different stories. A few had been ordered by their immediate superior. A few had been ordered by someone further up the chain of command. Most had it suggested to them that a certain dalali was to be favored. None have admitted to being paid for their trouble ... yet. But two young patrolmen who resisted the idea of favoring a particular business with their yevetha claimed that an unfamiliar gentleman approached them while they were on patrol and put to them a deal. He would provide them with the location of yevetha and they would take them to the BadanDevaki no matter where they were found. The young men asked what should inspire them to do this and a sum of money was named. Their Patrol Chief approached them the next day and made a suggestion to them that it might be worth their while to favor the Badan-Devaki.”

“They didn't report him?”

Gar shook his head, his lips pursed. “No, Nathu Rai. These were barely men—boys. Neither had gotten good marks in academy. Both were on probation for that reason. A Patrol Chief can be very intimidating when he holds your career in his hands.”

Commander Gar paused and studied his own hands for a moment. “I spoke with some of the Patrol Chiefs. Their stories were also inconsistent. Some denied having said what their men claimed they had, others-“ He shrugged. “But there was a common thread. The names of Division Chiefs Varaza and Nastan kept coming up—also that of a Patrol Chief named Ranjit.”