The Tower of Bashan (17 page)

She shook her head, biting her lip. “At midday the princess always takes her meal in the library. It will be next to impossible to leave the palace at that time.”

“Find someone to cover for you. This dinner is too important.” She gestured to the letter. “He’s written down some other things he wants you to look into tomorrow morning, most notably if this will be a private dinner with the prince or if Princess Mira will be joining. He would prefer the princess be there.”

I’m sure Mira will want to be there herself.

After parting, Lela continued down the dirty street.

As usual, the door to the apartment was locked. She knocked.

Kunal answered with a frown. “It’s dangerous enough to walk the streets during daylight hours. At night, it’s even worse.”

She entered the room. “Someone sees me home safely each night,” she lied to reduce his worries.

“Still, I don’t like how late you’re staying out. Little girls should be home asleep at this hour, not roaming the streets.”

“Just because I’m small, doesn’t mean that I’m a little girl, Uncle.”

He frowned and bobbed his head. “My stupidity forced you to grow up much sooner than you should have. I’m sorry.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Not enough.”

She warmed at his effort to make up for his past. It had been the longest he’d gone without succumbing to opium again since his addiction began. He still showed signs of struggle, but because of the work secured by Rondel and Andrasta, he had managed to keep his focus elsewhere.

Fear gripped her as she noticed the bare wooden dummies. “Did you finish all of the items already?”

“I did. And I see that look in your eye. There is nothing to worry about. I’m perfectly in control of myself. Besides, I’ve already secured two new jobs. I’ll start on them tomorrow after making a run to the market for the material.”

“So quickly?”

“Apparently, a few people commented on the items I made for your friends. They passed my name on to those interested.”

“That’s great!”

He smiled. “This is only the beginning. Word of mouth spreads fast. So long as I keep doing my best, I’ll be so busy I won’t know what to do with myself. And I can use the money to satisfy whatever price Beladeva will require to get you away from him.”

She gave Kunal a hug. She suspected that Beladeva would not be satisfied with any amount of money offered. But, her uncle needed to believe he could do that for her, and she wasn’t going to be the one to break his hope.

CHAPTER 13

Lela slid into the kitchen like a shadow amidst the clanging of pots and chopping of vegetables. The plethora of competing smells—leaks, mango, bread, cinnamon—assaulted her nose and made the inside of it itch.

It didn’t take long for her to learn that some of the best information could be obtained during the activities of those preparing for the day. Dozens of bodies filled the space, each making their own unique noise, whether talking, laughing, chopping, scraping, or stirring.

So much went on in the space that it was easy for a little girl to move about unnoticed. Anywhere else in the palace, people were more cautious with the volume of their voices, what they spoke about, and to whom. In the kitchen, things were different.

She hugged the wall near sacks of potatoes, pretending she was searching for something. She slid beside two women in their early thirties. Within a few breaths she could tell they spoke of nothing important, gossiping about crushes.

Lela left the potatoes and glided toward the giant stone hearth where various breads baked. Her stomach growled despite the food she had earlier. She snuck a small roll into her sari while preparing the princess’s morning meal. She put the tray together at the edge of a long wooden table where three older women kneaded dough and chopped fruit.

One of the women lowered her voice, but Lela had good ears. “Did you hear what they’re saying about Gulzar?”

Lela’s ears piqued at the mention of the name. Any discussion about the leader of one of Bashan’s major houses, especially one who had garnered so much attention from the prince, was bound to be important.

“No,” said another of the women. “And who is ‘they?’”

“You know I can’t say that,” said the first with a wink. “I’d be betraying my source. Anyway, he’s been spending an awful lot of time with the prince like the two are cooking something up.”

“And I assume you know the thing they’re cooking,” chided the third woman.

“I’ve heard a few things here and there,” said the first with a knowing smile.

Lela slowed her preparation. She finally had something.

* * *

Princess Mira sat in her favorite chair in the corner of the library while breaking her fast with a buttery flatbread flavored with coconut and covered with imported orange marmalade. It was the same meal as the morning before and the one before that. Mira was a creature of habit. If she had it her way, she’d eat the same three meals every day so that she’d never have to worry about whether one of the cook’s new dishes was distasteful or might cause indigestion.

However, her midday and especially her evening meals were rarely taken alone. With guests, the boring and mundane would not do. Business would occur during those meals and she had to appeal to her audience. Therefore, she made sure her first meal of the day never wavered in its contents. It was hers. She looked forward to it each morning as much for its taste and simplicity as its familiarity.

“Lela, fetch me a cup of green tea.”

The girl appeared on her left, seemingly out of nowhere. “I have it at your right elbow, Your Majesty. Lemon and a tiny bit of sugar, just as you like after a fitful night of sleep.”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t sleep well?”

“I beg your pardon Your Majesty. I know you’ve been busy, and from comments you’ve made I didn’t think that rest had come easy to you as of late.”

No. It hasn’t. Too busy either trying to fix my brother’s mess or prevent him from making a bigger one. All while trying not to become the losing piece in his poorly played game.

Mira glanced to her right. Steam rose from a white, porcelain cup etched in silver. She took the cup in her hands, swearing it hadn’t been there a moment ago. The tea set came from Cantonai, the tea grown locally. The hint of lemon reached her and she took a sip.

Perfect.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she whispered.

“Well, the tea is brewed in the kitchen, Your Majesty. I simply pour the cup and add the lemon and sugar.”

Mira smirked. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’ve changed servants more often than I’ve changed clothes these last several years. They’ve been young, old, female, male, local, and foreign. Do you know why they haven’t lasted long?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“None of them listen. They like to say they will be seen and not heard. However, most cannot wait to jump at a chance to interject their own opinion where it wasn’t asked, or chat away about their personal problems in the hopes that I might show them pity.” Mira paused, waiting. She had given a similar speech twice before when she thought she had finally found someone worth keeping.

Mira hated to appear cruel because she was not. Every decision, every thought, every political conversation, was conducted with the people of Bashan in mind. However, she had too much to juggle for her to consider matters on an individual level.

Lela said nothing. In fact, if she hadn’t stood near the table, Mira might have forgotten the girl was still there.

Who would have thought that a girl her age would be the one to finally pass the test?
“What do you think of those who tell me such things?” Mira finally came out and asked.

“I think they are being presumptuous, Your Majesty. I’m surprised that so many would forget themselves.”

Another good answer.

“Would you ever think to overstep yourself in such a way?”

“No, Your Majesty. I would never think to speak to you out of turn unless you would have me do so.”

“That pleases me to hear.” Mira took another bite of her breakfast, enjoying the coconut aftertaste. She reconsidered how she ended the conversation. “That being said, I know you’re a smart girl, much smarter than you like to let on. You also have a way of sneaking around like a quiet little mouse. Not necessarily a bad thing. What I mean is, if there is something that you hear, perhaps from conversations around the palace, things that may be of interest to me, please let me know.”

Mira felt awkward for even making the suggestion to a young girl, but her resources were beginning to dry as her power decreased. She needed more information if she hoped to keep Bashan from spiraling downward under her brother’s reign. As it was, her efforts to figure out what Gulzar and her brother were up to had so far come up empty.

So I’m relying on the hearsay of staff. Pathetic.

“And loose-lipped messengers meant for the prince?”

Mira cocked her head. “Especially those.”

“Then it might please her majesty to learn that her brother will be having a private dinner this evening in the east wing’s formal dining room.”

“This is nothing new. He has those dinners every night.”

“Your Majesty is correct. However, this is the first night that he will be entertaining a foreign emissary from Bratanic.”

Mira choked on her bread. “He what?”

“Yes, a man by the name of Lord Rickar. He’s been spending lavishly throughout the city the last two days, meeting with anyone and everyone of importance. Bankers, merchants, and so on.”

“Yes, I heard the stories. He apparently has a female
bodyguard
or whatever she’s called.”

“She’s very much a warrior, Your Majesty. Not what you might be thinking.”

“So you’ve seen them?”

“Just a glimpse.”

“And they’re meeting this evening with Minander?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I need to be there.

She took a sip of tea. “Find out what’s on the menu. I’d like to know what I’m in store for when I attend.”

Eyeing Lela, she wondered how else she could use the little girl.

CHAPTER 14

In the early evening light, Andrasta gripped a handrail as she bounced along on the outside of the carriage, standing on a step near the door as they traveled toward the palace. The streets seemed deserted in comparison to the seething throngs from earlier in the day. The lack of distraction only put her more on edge.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could fight a half dozen pit fighters out of Kurk while wearing little in the way of armor and be relaxed. Yet, the closer they rolled toward the palace, the faster her heart raced, palms running slick with sweat.

It’s just a dinner, Andrasta. You’ll be expected to do and say little. The real pressure is on Rondel.

That thought should have eased her mind, but it didn’t. She had seen her partner handle himself in similar situations with confidence before. However, the stakes of the current situation felt much higher. Sure, she might have been temporarily derailed a few times in her quest to steal the Jewel of Bashan. But ultimately, most every decision had led her here. Even her partnership with Rondel would have never occurred had he not shown her the sketch to the tower’s entrance.

She sighed.
Would I have been so quick to partner with Rondel had I known the delays that would result afterward? Not likely. And the loss would have been mine.
She thought of the notes Rondel kept hidden in their quarters.
Besides, how could I have learned everything without him? Likely I’d be worse off on my own.

Though it was through no fault of hers, that admission angered her. Even after all she and Rondel had done for each other, she hated having to rely on him so much.
Will Father think less of me when he finds out I had a partner to steal the jewel? Will I prove others right for needing a man to help me?

Before she could answer those questions, the carriage took a sharp turn down a narrow side alley where crumbling red-brick buildings loomed on either side.

Rondel pushed aside the carriage’s curtain and peeked out. “What’s going on, Harshad?”

“A shortcut. I don’t want you to be late.”

Rondel furrowed his brow. “We left with plenty enough time to spare.”

“On most nights, yes. However, there is a festival to Ista, a minor god of fertility tonight. I didn’t want us to get caught in the celebration’s traffic.”

The noise from the sparse traffic along Bashan’s streets faded quickly as they disappeared into the dark gloom of the alley. It smelled of rats and other vermin.

Rondel scowled, casting her a look. “Get us back on the main road.”

“Harshad!” Andrasta barked. “Turn this carriage around.”

“Where shall I turn around at?” he asked chuckling, while gesturing to the walls on either side. The laughter rang false. He clicked the reins, speeding the carriage up. “Don’t worry,” Harshad continued. “There’s an intersection just up ahead we can stop at.”