The Tower of Bashan (22 page)

Mira met him halfway across the room. It was a break in decorum, something her brother would never do. But then again, she had never been and never planned to be anything like Minander.

At least not the Minander I know now.

“My lord, you look well,” she said, speaking loudly so the old man could hear.

He bowed his head in respect, leaning on his servant’s arms. “I appreciate the kind words Your Majesty, but you know as well as I that I look awful. My liver spots have liver spots. The last two hairs atop my head haven’t fallen off yet only because they’re fighting over who should go first.” He tapped the side of his head with a forefinger. “Thankfully, everything up here is as crisp as a cold spring rain.”

Mira returned the smile. “I pray that it stays that way. Please join me near the window.”

She held out her arm. Brahma took it. He looked over his shoulder. “Give us a bit of privacy by waiting outside, Johar. I’ll be fine.”

Johar bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

They took their seats, Mira sitting daintily on the edge of her chair, Brahma sinking into the cushions with a sigh. “I’m sorry to drag you out to the palace, my lord.”

“No need to apologize, Your Majesty. We rarely talk in private anymore. Besides, I’m sure you have good reason.”

“It’s about Minander.”

“I assumed so.”

She sucked her teeth. “Why is that?”

“Because his approach to ruling Bashan is much different than yours and thereby much different than your father’s. You do an admirable job of hiding it most days, but recently, it is all but written across your face.”

She chuckled. “Well then, no sense in dancing around the issue. I’ve met with all the major houses today and most of the minor ones. I was hoping to get a feel of how everyone truly feels about my brother’s rule.”

“Did you learn what you hoped?”

“Hoped? No. Suspected? Yes. Except . . . It’s worse than I thought. He means to take us to war, only most are too blind to see it.”

Brahma nodded. “So I guessed.”

She poorly hid her surprise. “Really? When?”

“A month ago. One of my men happened upon a conversation with Captain Lochman of the watch and your brother. The prince asked what resources Lochman needed to train more recruits. Lochman asked how many the prince wanted to add. Minander said several thousand. The prince explained that he wanted to have men patrolling not just the streets of the city proper but all the roads in Bashan in order to keep them safe from thugs out and about.”

“You mean those recent rumblings about the strangler cult returning? Those stories only
began
a month ago . . .”
That sneaky little . . . .
Mira swore, not caring whose presence she was in.

“My thoughts exactly. It appears your brother learned a few things while away after all.”

Yes, he did. Raise an army and everyone will be in an uproar. Start rumors about bandits and then say you’re trying to stop them by moving more men into the countryside and you’ll be looked upon as someone who cares for the people. All the while, you’ll have a larger militia in place to invade your neighbors.

“What more do you know about his plans?”

“I heard from a reliable source that his true reason for this trip was to scout out places for future military outposts near Bashan’s borders.”

His stupid trips with his friends.
Mira slammed her fist on the arm of the chair as she stood. “How did I let him do this?”

“By obeying the law and backing off during the transitional period. The rest is Gulzar’s doing. His people handle a large portion of your brother’s leg work. That way he doesn’t have to use royal guards and draw notice of the other houses.”

“But you noticed.”

He opened his hands and turned them over. “I always notice. It’s part of why I used to frustrate your father so much.”

Mira grinned at that. Her father and Brahma had a very unique relationship, always fighting with each other, but never maliciously. She refocused her thoughts. “How has Gulzar come up in the world so quickly?”

“That I don’t know.”

Mira paced back and forth.

Minander’s ambitions for war are out of control. I can’t let this get any worse.

She went back to her seat. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

“Of course it’s not. Your father and I disagreed about many things, but we both knew that shedding Kindi blood was not the right solution to re-uniting our country.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He chuckled. “What can I do?”

“Even with Gulzar’s apparent rise in power, you’re still the second most powerful man in Bashan behind the crown.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Some might reverse that placing.”

“Yes. They would. And that makes my point greater. Are you going to stand by and let Bashan go to war?”

“I may have money and guards of my own, but I don’t have anything resembling a militia. And I’m not about to declare war against your brother to rule in his stead.”

“Would you declare war for
me
?”

He grunted. “You can’t be serious!”

She clenched her hands. “I am. I know that you did not wish to see Minander take over the crown. You were happy with my rule.”

“I was. But there are laws in place and—”

“Yes, I know I’m not supposed to rule over my brother while he is of age. But the transitional period is not up. That might buy me some leeway. If you can help me prove Minander is going to go to war, the other house leaders who don’t know his intentions might come to my side. Then as a collective we can change the law and remove him from power.”

“They won’t turn on him. He’s won too many over with money and Gulzar frightened the others who couldn’t be bribed.”

“But Bashan—”

“I love the city too, but I’ll not lose everything my family owns needlessly.”

“No. You’ll just lose it when our enemies sack the city while weakened.”

“I’ll pack up and leave long before then.” He smirked. “I hear the Hidesi Islands are warm year round,” he added sarcastically.

Mira wanted to scream in frustration. She needed Brahma’s help if she was to succeed in removing her brother from power. But to do so, she needed to bring something to the table, something she didn’t have.
An army.
Thinking of Lord Rickar, she took a chance. “What if I was to secure my own army?”

“Out of thin air? I didn’t know you were a sorceress.”

“I’m serious. What if I had an army myself?”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the emissary from Bratanic would it?” Brahma asked with a raised eyebrow. “I’m looking into him just so you’re aware. Something seems strange about him, familiar even, but I can’t place it.”

How did he know?
Mira managed to keep her composure. “Good idea, but you’re avoiding my question,” she said, perfectly aware she had done the same to him.

“So you would go to war against your brother and bleed Bashan yourself? The very thing you’re criticizing Minander for?”

“I wouldn’t need to go to war. The army I’m talking about would be for show. A symbol. It would be present only to make people hesitant so you can speak to the other house leaders without threat of the consequences. You could convince them of their mistake since they all respect you.”

He studied her. “You’re serious.”

“About Bashan? Always.”

He paused, thinking, then gave a shrug. “All right. I don’t know where you expect to find this army, but if you find one, and can guarantee that I’ll be protected, I’ll speak on your behalf. But only if I have complete confidence in these forces.”

“I understand.”

“Today is the second day of the month. In two months, your brother is supposed to take the throne outright. After that, there will be no stopping him. I hope you can work fast, Princess.”

So do I.

She glanced out the window, wondering when Lela would return.

CHAPTER 17

The table rocked. Andrasta’s arm shot out. She caught a small vase mere inches before it crashed onto the floor of the master bedroom. Her heart quickened.

“Be careful,” she hissed.

Rondel edged slowly away from the table, adjusting the small sack slung over his shoulder. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“With what?” she said, setting the vase back on the table.

He gestured to the painting on the wall. It was a portrait of a bald young man with a thin black mustache. Pale gray eyes narrowed as if the lifeless image could actually focus on someone or something in the room. The figure wore long, flowing robes of gray that matched his eyes. Mist and shadow danced around his body, fading into white as it reached the edge of the canvas.

“Who is that supposed to be?”

“Thalamanak.”

“The sorcerer?”

“You know of another Thalamanak?”

She hadn’t really given much thought to the sorcerer’s appearance, but now that she saw an image of him, something didn’t seem right. “He doesn’t look anything like I imagined.”

“He might not even look like this,” said Rondel.

“What do you mean?”

“He was known to take many physical forms in order to confuse his enemies. I’m sure he looked like this at the time of the painting, or at least what the artist thought he looked like. Like many powerful men, he was a bit . . . eccentric to say the least.”

“Like designing a tower full of powerful guardians?”

He chuckled. “Exactly. Anyway, I’ve seen him portrayed as a bent-back old man, a young child, even a beautiful maiden.”

“Then how do you know this is Thalamanak?”

Rondel pointed to the engraving. “It says so right there.” He smiled.

She scowled, adjusting her own sack. “Are we done?”

Rondel glanced once more around the room as if calculating the value of everything in sight. Dressed in their old attire, the two had been at it since mid-morning, breaking into more than half a dozen homes, stealing from some of the wealthiest in the area.

Under normal circumstances, Andrasta could have not cared less of robbing the city’s upper crust. However, there was the added danger of them not only getting caught, but damaging the efforts they hoped to accomplish with their new personas if someone spotted them. She had expressed those concerns to Rondel last night when he suggested the day’s plans.

“I agree, but our disguises were expensive to create, and are expensive to maintain. We’re almost out of money, and it wouldn’t do for Lord Rickar to be seen begging on the streets of Bashan for a few coppers,” he had said.

Someone laughed down the hallway outside the door. A woman’s voice hushed the first while trying not to laugh herself.

“The servants are checking rooms,” said Andrasta.

“Then let’s go.”

The two hurried across the room, exiting through the fourth story window which faced a dead end alley. Andrasta went out first and secured their sacks on the roof while Rondel came up beside her.

“What do you think? One more?” he asked.

She glanced up at the sky, and shook her head. “The sun will be setting soon. This was a good idea when we knew the nobles would be off with the day’s business. But it won’t be long before they start coming home.”

“Good point. We probably have enough to last us for a couple weeks anyway.”

“A week? This is enough to last us a year.”

“Under normal circumstances. However, we need to get rid of this both quickly and discreetly. We aren’t going to get true value for the goods.”

She stood. “Fine. Let’s just get out of here before someone sees us.”

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” said a rough voice from behind.

Andrasta spun, drawing her sword in one motion. Five approaching figures moved silently across an adjacent rooftop. Each wore the common all white garb of the city’s working class. However, the khandas four of the men carried said quite convincingly that their work was not common at all. They jumped the short distance between buildings, landing without a sound to the roof she and Rondel stood on.

“Didn’t hear a thing,” he said beside her. His short sword was in his hand.

“Sorcerer. Third from the right,” she said, noting the one man without a khanda who hung back behind the others, fingers dancing about.

“Take him out first when I tell you,” whispered Rondel.

“Why not let me take him out now?”

“Because we won’t learn anything if we kill them now. Be patient.”

“Pretty bold to be stealing in the middle of the day,” said the man in front, his eyes studying them beneath a thick brow.

Andrasta recognized him as the one who had spoken before. Even if she had met him under a different set of circumstances she decided she would hate him all the same for the strange way he sucked in his bottom lip when not speaking.