Laldasa (6 page)

She laid aside her book and shifted to face him more directly. “Of course, Gauri. Come.” She patted the lip of the bed.

As if I were still a small boy with bad dreams, thought Jaya, and moved to her side.

“I like her very much,” answered Mina, before he could phrase the question. “She is not prim about spiritual things. You know how I loathe religious primness. And I think she is to be trusted. I should mention that your mother has met her.”

A terrifying thought. “How?”

“She paid me a visit this evening—I can't imagine why, unless it was to see if I knew anything about the business downstairs. Naturally, she was fascinated by Anala.”

Jaya shifted uneasily. “What did you tell her?”

Mina chuckled. “The Rani is under the impression that our young friend is also a Rani—of the family Sadira.”

Jaya was not certain whether to be relieved or worried. “Not my cunnidasa?”

“I refused to let Anala offer her the respectful greeting.”

“That was wise.”

“I thought so.”

“So, she's Anala Sadira, now.”

Mina's smile deepened. “Ana Sadira. Ana of the Lotus Tree. I thought it was appropriate. I hope your mother doesn't take it into her head to check up on her.”

“Why should she?”

“Maybe she suspects a wedding is being plotted behind her back.” The look she gave him was coy.

“I'm ignoring you, Grandmother.”

“Mmmm. But can you ignore Ana?”

“Grandmother, you are an incorrigible match-maker! The woman is Avasan—the daughter of a miner.”

“So?”

“So where's your Mehtaran pride? Aren't you supposed to be bringing me quality Taj-daughters of Mehtar? Dark-skinned Ranis, Devas-“

Mina made a rude noise. “That's your mother's job. Quality doesn't come with breeding, titles, citizenship ... or racial heritage. It comes with character. The daughter of an Avasan miner is just as likely to have that as any woman on Mehtar, regardless of her rank.”

“Her father is Rokh Nadim.” Jaya watched his Jivinta's expression. It didn't change.

“Yes, I know.”

“She told you?”

“She told me many things.” She paused, assessing him. “Did you know she was Rohin—a bhakta?”

Jaya was surprised. That explained why, despite her apparent acceptance of her situation, she'd dared to let him know his sexual advances would not be welcomed. He was relieved that he hadn't pressed the issue. Even a member of a Taj House generally watched his manners with a devotee of the Upward Path.

Mina was watching his face with raptor gaze. “I hope you didn't embarrass yourself, Grandson.”

He smiled. “Only slightly.”

“What do you think the Rani would make of all this ... if she knew?”

Jaya could just imagine. The knowledge that the daughter of Rokh Nadim had come into the possession of the youngest member of the Vrinda Varma would probably be the most important piece of gossip Melantha Sarojin could ever hope to pass along. Since her current male companion was Kasi-Nawahr's Legal Representative, and since that particular gossip would have the greatest impact in his quarter, she would pass it along to him.

“You were wise to give her a new name.”

“I try to make a habit of wisdom,” said Jivinta Mina. “What will you do if the Rani presses the issue? Who is Ana Sadira that she should suddenly be living under your roof?”

“Why should I have to comment? If it pleases me to suddenly invite a beautiful woman into my house-“ He shrugged.

“But not into your bed? Highly suspicious.”

“She's in the adjoining suite. I can make sure the door is unlocked in case the Rani or one of her das should wander into my quarters.”

Mina nodded. “And if the Rani sees the palm of her hand?”

“That's more difficult. I can't, in good conscience, pass her off as a cunnidasa, knowing she's Rohin ...
 
We could fake an injury to her hand.”

“And when that wears thin?”

Jaya opened his left hand and studied the palm thoughtfully. “With a little alteration, the dascree could be made to look like a raicree. Change the color, a line here and there ... .” He illustrated, tracing the faint scarlet imprint in his own palm.

“An unknown branch of the House Sarojin? From where?”

Jaya shrugged. “Darupur?” He named a city halfway across the continent. “The Saroj is a far-flung clan.”

Mina was skeptical. “Darupur? With her coloring?”

“Ah ... one of our distant relations moved his family to Avasa.”

“I will relish watching you come up with a credible reason as to why any sane man would do such a thing. Just how do you propose to get this cree ‘fixed?' Who do you know that owns the proper machinery ... that you can trust?”

“Badan-Devaki?”

Mina snorted. “Those maggots! I said, ‘that you can trust.'”

Jaya feigned shock. “Jivinta! Such language!”

“Such people! Do you think either of them would keep that damaging knowledge to themselves? They'd sell it, just as they sell the poor creatures who have the misfortune of coming into their possession.”

“There's a cree imprinter at the Asra.”

Jivinta Mina was amused. “Do you think the Deva will be persuaded to let you use it? What will you do, pose as God?”

Jaya was cornered and knew it. “The Deva Radha is not as legalistic as some of the Rohin.”

Mina didn't say anything, but merely quirked an eyebrow at him. He knew the look well after over two decades of these sparring matches. She was giving him a second chance to make a better parry.

“If the situation gets desperate,” he said, “I can always take her to the Inner Circle for sanctuary. They could make her their ward. No one would dare touch her then.”

“True. They would likely give her sanctuary. They know the sanctity of a covenant.”
 

“So, who is Ana Sadira?” asked Jaya, wondering how many points he'd made.

Mina shrugged. “She's a Sarojin cousin whose grandmother, a native of Avasa, moved to Mehtar for reasons of health and married a member of the Saroj from Darupur. He returned the family to Avasa when ... his bond-father died, leaving an estate to his only daughter. Ana is in Kasi for a holiday.”

“And her hand?”

“Ah, leave that to me. Helidasa can do wonderful things with her herbs and dyes.”

Jaya kissed his Jivinta lightly on the cheek, then rose to leave. “Well, this story at least saves the Rani Sadira having to leave her bedroom door open at night. She wouldn't like that.”

“No, she wouldn't.”

She said it with such vehemence that he had to laugh. “Am I that repulsive?”

“Repulsive? You?” She scanned his face, her eyes mocking him. “Your father was called ‘the Golden Lotus,' and you are your father's son. You know this—you've heard it often enough. But Anala is Rohin. That is something you may not be able to understand, even if you try.”

Jaya smiled wryly. “You're being mystical and sage, Jivinta. I hate it when you're mystical and sage.”

“Phht! You love it, and have since you were a boy. When you're my age, you'll be mystical and sage too. Then you'll see the other side of things.”

“I hope I enjoy it as much as you do.”

“You will,” she assured him. “Especially if your audience stands raptly in wide-eyed wonder, never doubting a word you say.”

“I doubt,” said Jaya. “I am simply too polite to say so.”

That was a lie, he thought, as the door of her suite closed behind him. He'd never doubted Mina Sarojin for a moment.

oOo

The room was dark, lit only by a fire in the hearth and the light that breached the vast expanse of windows and squeezed through the brocaded drapes from outside.

Anala parted them and caught her breath. From the second floor she overlooked the walls at the front of the palace—now a line of indistinct black—and saw the broad avenue beyond sweep away downhill, ablaze with street lamps. At its end, Kasi spread before the House Sarojin like a litter of vari-colored gems on black velvet—a tribute. Or like a jewel-bedecked pet tethered to its master by a chain of light.

Tethered, as she was tethered.

A smoky curl of anger roiled for a moment in her heart. She took a deep breath and blew the fire out, unclenching her fists in a deliberate stretching of muscle and bone. She pulled the drapes fully open and knelt on the window seat.

She focused on the litter of light and kept her eyes there until they blurred. Then she closed them and began to pray.

“Sanat-ji, Tara-ji. Please visit this, Your daughter. You know, O my Lord, what has befallen me. I have been lost, but found; enslaved, yet freed; mistreated, but kindly. I am frightened, yet comforted; alone, yet among friends. I do not yet see Your purpose in these things, O Lord, so I await Your guidance. Do with me as befits Your grace, O Most Gracious One, and is worthy of Your glory, O Most Glorious One.”

She was silent for a moment, listening; and still, waiting. Waiting for the Sign that her prayer had been heard. There ...
 
within three heartbeats, the warmth of certainty blushed outward from heart to hands and up into the very roots of her hair. She couldn't recall a time the Sign, when asked, had not been given.

She lay down, then, to watch the lights of Kasi until sleep came.

Morning brought sunlight and warmth. But the winds were capricious, gentle one moment, unkind the next. Sitting at the head of the breakfast table in the Morning Room, Jaya watched the tall evergreens in the garden shrug off the rough teasing, their topmost branches shying first one way, then the other.

He was alone, and Helidasa moved almost silently in and out of the room, laying out the meal. He smiled at the sheer amount of food she was assembling on the sideboard.

“Heli,” he said, when she appeared with a huge bowl of fruit, “are you planning to feed a team of rattle-ball players?”

“I am feeding three people,” she said, setting the bowl of fruit in the center of the arrangement. “Maybe four.” Catching his questioning glance, she continued, “The young lady will be down. Which means your mother will most certainly be at table. Jivinta Mina tells me she will be down as well.”

The soles of her soft shoes padded lightly across the tile floor of the solarium as she returned to the kitchen, disappearing through the broad, corner-cut doorway.

Jivinta at breakfast—now that was an event. She'd stopped coming down to breakfast months ago, claiming her leg was paining her. Jaya suspected that in reality, it was the Rani Melantha that was paining her. Conversations at breakfast didn't always go pleasantly with Mother there—especially since she'd taken up with her newest beau. She tended to echo his philosophies and viewpoints, which was usually enough to send Jivinta into a temper and Jaya out of the room.

A soft cadence of footfalls told him Helidasa was returning. Something in the whisper of sound made every hair on his body rise up. He chuckled and turned to tell her she'd have to walk less like a cat, then froze in the torrent of electricity that poured through him.

Anala stared at him from the doorway, her cloud of blackcherry hair ablaze in the bold wash of sunlight from the tall solarium windows.

Were he a religious man, he might have claimed her as a vision of the Mother God. He wasn't, but the name dropped from his lips before he realized it had slipped out. “Tara-ji.”

Anala shifted uneasily. “Mahesa?”

He felt immediately foolish. “Sorry, Anala, I wasn't taking one of your God's names in vain. There's a painting of Her Holiness Tara-Rama in our family shrine—for a moment, you reminded me ... with the light ... ” He gestured past her.

She turned her head, glancing at the sun-washed tiles. “Ah. I'm flattered, Nathu Rai. Thank you, but you do no honor to Tara-ji with the comparison.”

“That's debatable.”

She blushed, averted her eyes and moved to take the seat he indicated. “Please, Nathu Rai. You're making me uncomfortable. I'm unused to flattery.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Anala's eyebrows winged upward. “Nathu Rai, I don't know what you imagine life in an Avasan mining community is like, but it doesn't give one many opportunities to wear the sort of clothing that draws compliments.”

“I wasn't complimenting the clothing, Ana.”

Anala stared at her empty plate. “Nathu Rai ... ”

“Jaya.”

She shrugged. “My life on Avasa hasn't prepared me for any of this.” Her gesture took in both her surroundings and circumstances.

“You must tell us about your life on Avasa, my dear.”