Laldasa (5 page)

Vadin Adivaram set down his goblet with a distinct click. “Nathu Rai, demeaning you was not our intention. Think of us merely as a couple of fond old uncles bent on imparting their wisdom to a favorite nephew.”

“I'll do that,” Jaya promised. “Now what brings my two fond old uncles out this evening?”

“You've read the petitions?” Bel Adivaram came right to the point.

“Yes.” That wasn't quite true, and Jaya felt just a little guilty in professing that it was. He had read the Focus Document and scanned the individual petitions tendered by the several chapters of the Avasan Guild. Of the Consortium's counter-petition he'd read only the synopsis.

“And have you formed an opinion?”

“Not one I should discuss.”

“I'm not asking you to discuss your opinion,” returned Adivaram mildly, “just to comment on whether you've formed one.”

Aridas' return with his channa gave Jaya a moment to ponder his reply. Opinions, he didn't have. He hadn't read the petitions well enough for that, nor had he paid strict attention to their presentation in Assembly. He had leanings—an instinctual belief that if the Avasan miners thought they'd be better off without the over-lordship of a Mehtaran corporation, they were probably right—but nothing more solid than that. However, if the Consortium's methods of dissuasion were what Anala claimed ...
 

“Thank you, Ari. This is excellent, as always. No, I don't have any opinions. I haven't heard both sides in Session yet.”

“Well,” drawled Lord Twapar, “I'd say we've all heard the Consortium side often enough. It's rather hard to avoid it when every social event seems to center around bringing Kasi-Nawahr officers and stockholders together with Varmana. The Consortium, understandably, does not want the competition. Independents are one thing, united Independents are quite another.”

“What do you think Kasi-Nawahr would do if the Vrinda Varma grants AGIM some form of legal status?” asked Jaya.

“Obviously, they're hoping it won't,” returned the Vadin.

Jaya glanced at him. “Obviously, but would they do more than hope, do you think?”

Kreti Twapar sat forward in his chair, clasping veined hands before him. “What do you mean by that?”

Jaya shrugged. “They have a lot to lose. I wonder what they might do to protect their interests on Avasa.”

“Are you suggesting something less subtle than lobbying?” queried Bel Adivaram.

“Subtle? I've had to avoid too many growling, whining KasiNawahr associates at social gatherings to call it subtle. Although, very few of them go far enough to warrant a sanction being placed on them. I was thinking of something more secretive
 
... and more serious.”

The two guests shared a significant sidelong glance before putting down their glasses in near unison.

“I think it's time to come to the point,” said Adivaram. “The Consortium, as you suggest, is more than eager to maintain its hold on Avasa. But it is not the Consortium we come to speak of. We come with a warning, Nathu Rai. You may well be approached by ... a group of people who are willing to do a bit more than whine.”

After a moment of silence, Jaya prompted him. “Approached?”

The two older men continued to gaze at him without replying.

“Am I to construe from that an unlawful query as to my opinions, or something else?”

He glanced from one closed, watchful face to the other, hearing only Kreti Twapar's raspy breathing, the snap of flame from the hearth and the tell-tale click, click, click of Bel Adivaram's fingernails against the arm of his chair.

What in the name of Sanat-Ram were they trying to do, frighten him?

“What is it we're not discussing, uncles?” he asked. “Bribery? Threats?” He gestured around the room. “Bribery hardly seems likely, considering my circumstances. Promises of political promotion are equally ludicrous. Threats, then? Is that this evening's purport of the word ‘approached?'”

Bel Adivaram cleared his throat. “I'm not sure how much we dare say.”

“Were you approached?”

“Possibly.” Adivaram glanced sideways at Twapar.

“You couldn't tell?”

“We're not certain what to do. It was so vague, so nebulous.” Twapar made a fluttering gesture of helplessness and trained sorrowful eyes on his Nathu Rai. “Nothing, you understand, that could be pinned down ... quite. We wondered, Nathu Rai, what you would do in such circumstances.”

“I can't tell you. I don't know what the circumstances were. Were you threatened or not?” Jaya felt a tickle of irritation. What did these two think—that he had the Jadu and could read minds?

“Not threatened, precisely,” said Adivaram. “It was suggested that there are advantages to deeming the Avasan position unlawful.”

“Unlawful?” Jaya got up and moved away from the hearth, putting his back to them. “That suggests that the Vrinda Varma should declare the Avasan Guild asat.”

“That was what I inferred also,” admitted the Vadin. “Apparently, the Consortium is preparing an addendum to their counter petition that demands AGIM be declared a subversive organization and officially disbanded. And, of course, if AGIM is asat, it would keep the issue of their independence from ever being raised again.”

“Leaving all AGIM mining interests open for KNC appropriation,” murmured Jaya. How amazing are the workings of the political mind, he thought, and was grateful he didn't have one.

“Excuse me, Nathu Rai?”

“Never mind.” He turned back to face them. “Who approached you?”

“They called themselves WoCoa—the Workers' Coalition,” said Twapar. “They indicated they felt that any decision favoring AGIM threatened their jobs and incomes. They suggested that supporting the Consortium's counter petition is the best thing for all concerned. They were quite vehement.”

“Vehement, but nebulous, eh?”

Adivaram scowled. “As I said, we were unsure of how much we should say.”

“Well, what did you say to these suggestions?”

“We didn't know what to say to them,” protested Adivaram. “What would you have said?”

Jaya shrugged. “I'm not sure. Maybe I would have thrown the suggestion-makers out of my house. Then again, maybe I would've asked to hear more.”

They stared at him and he chuckled. “Did I shock you? Sorry. Just consider it a function of my infamous eccentricity.”

Kreti Twapar's stare twisted into a grimace. “Your eccentricity, Lord Prince Sarojin, is sometimes inappropriate.”

Jaya raised his eyebrows in amusement, but the Vadin Adivaram misread him. “Forgive our irascible old Lord, mahesa. He's becoming cranky with his years.” He shot his confederate a withering glance.

“Yes, Nathu Rai,” mumbled Twapar, with about as much contrition as Jaya felt for being eccentric. “Please, don't take offense. I forgot myself.”

“No offense taken,” said Jaya blandly. “You see? My eccentricity can also be a blessing. I've forgotten you, too.”

For a moment Kreti Twapar's face drained of all color—lacking even its natural yellowish tinge. Jaya's pleasant laughter seemed to restore it somewhat, and he laughed, as well.

“Why haven't you reported this to the Inner Circle? You are members, after all.”

“We ... didn't want to muddy the waters with mention of this WoCoa matter. If you've read the petitions, you've no doubt realized how complex this situation has already become.”

“Very complex.” You have no idea.

“So,” said Bel Adivaram finally, “you would advise us to say nothing of this before the Vrinda Varma? Or should we register a complaint?”

“I wouldn't presume to advise you,” returned Jaya. “But I do see the point of not lodging a formal report. If I were ‘approached' by anyone, I probably wouldn't be inclined to complain to the Vrinda Varma right away. Silence can give instruction even to the wise.” He'd heard his father say that often enough. He could only assume he'd gotten it from Jivinta Mina.

The two old ones nodded and hummed and then excused themselves, leaving Jaya alone in the Court Salon. He wasn't alone long—a grinning Aridas joined him, chuckling as he collected the glasses and cups from the room.

“Ari, you'll burst if you don't share that grin with me. What did my two ‘old uncles' do to amuse you?”

“'Ay! Silence can give instruction even to the wise, he says!'” The imitation of Kreti Twapar's gritty, wheezy voice was eerily accurate. “'How dare that insolent young whelp sound so damn sage? Nathu Rai he may be, Sarojin he may be, but he's got a head full of air and ego!'”

Jaya laughed. “Air? Something as benign as that? I'm amazed. I would've expected they thought it was full of something else.”

Ari shook his head. “Someday, Jaya Rai, you should land upon those two old scoffers with talons. You tolerate them so well, they're getting bold and toothy.”

“Why should I do that? I don't care how toothy they get.”

“But I do,” chided Ari. “Their das know what disrespect they feel for you, mahesa. Heli and I have to put up with their foolish mockery, you know. It's not easy.”

“Ah, and of course you defend me loyally.”

“Of course,” Ari assured him. “It's our duty and privilege. But you could help by quashing them occasionally.” His reproachful expression twisted into a leer. “It'd scare them to eternity, mahesa.”

“And you'd like to be there to see it, of course.”

The leer was still hanging in the air when Aridas was halfway back to the kitchen with his tray.

oOo

The Rani Melantha Sarojin was curious about her son's visitors. She made an abortive attempt to pump Helidasa for information, but got absolutely nowhere with the woman. She should have known better than to waste her time trying, she realized, pulling off her gloves in the front hall. Her late husband's das were fiercely loyal to his son and imagined that loyalty extended to keeping all his affairs secret from even his own mother.

She paused to study the closed doors of the Court Salon, considered stepping closer to listen to the conversation she could just barely make out, then saw Aridas coming down the corridor with a carafe-laden tray.

She collected herself and headed for the grand staircase, hoping the das hadn't seen her lingering there like a common snoop. It occurred to her, as she mounted the stairs, that her bond-mother might know why there were Varmana sitting in their Court Salon—Varmana who were also of the Inner Nine. She hoped Mina Sarojin would be in one of her chatty moods. With that in mind, she turned right at the top of the stairs and passed down the central corridor to the dowager Sarojin's quarters.

The Rani was surprised to find that the old woman also had a visitor. The young woman was quite beautiful in a wild, vivid and somewhat alien way. Her dress was exotic but tasteful and made the most of her rather pale skin. She remembered Bel Adivaram's seemingly endless supply of young female “relations” and wondered if this was one of them.

She was faintly amused by the two pairs of eyes that stared at her as she stood in the doorway of her bond-mother's suite. They could have belonged to children caught whispering in the Asra during prayers.

“Pardon my intrusion, Mata,” she said. “I didn't mean to interrupt your visit. May I be introduced?”

Mina Sarojin collected herself and fixed the Rani with a brittle smile. Her veined hands, still strong and supple, caught the young woman's possessively between their palms. “Of course. Melantha, this ... ” Her smile swung to her young companion, warming. “This is Ana Sadira, a new, but already dear friend of mine. Ana, I present the Rani Melantha Sarojin.”

The younger woman made a visible attempt to free her hands from Mina's to offer the respectful greeting, but Mina held them immobile, a frozen smile aimed at the Rani.

Ana Sadira nodded, embarrassed, and said, “I am honored, Rani Sarojin. The hospitality of your House is as the kindness of Tara-Rama.”

Melantha accepted the greeting and compliment with a slight raising of artfully painted brows and an even slighter nod. “You are related to one of my son's guests?”

“No, Rani, I am not.”

“She's a friend of Jaya's,” said Mina. “That should please you.”

“Yes, it should.”

The Rani studied her bond-mother's guest a moment more, then smiled briefly and left them. On the opposite side of the translucent curtains that separated her bond-mother's sitting room from the anteroom, Melantha turned for a last look at the pair. The vivid young woman was staring into her palm, while Mina Sarojin remonstrated with her.

Odd. The Rani wondered if it had anything to do with Mina's refusal to allow her guest to offer the respectful greeting. Bemused, she turned away and left the suite.

oOo

“Jivinta, may I speak with you for a moment?” Jaya stood just inside the curtained door of her bedroom, his eyes on the pool of light that washed the shallow bowl of velvet padding she slept in.