The Tower of Bashan (24 page)

“Then why not ask her?”

“Because she can always lie or if she suspects we’re fishing for information she might get worried we’ll try to hurt her first. Then she
will
put one over on us with Beladeva. I’d rather we know what’s going on first and then present her with the information so she comes clean.”

There’s more, you just don’t want to say it. You see this as another opportunity to do one of your good deeds.
Andrasta kept that to herself rather than make the point. She knew it would be a waste of breath.

She tried a different approach instead. “You’re really going out of your way with her. If we were still in Erba and working with someone like her, we’d find out what’s going on by any means necessary.”

“Yes, but we’re not in Erba and the people we were working with were scum, not little girls who’ve probably gotten in over their head.”

Just what I thought.

She grunted. “Still seems like we’re taking a big chance.”

“Maybe. Feel like keeping an eye on her tonight? We’ve been so busy we haven’t had a chance to tail her since we got back to the city. And you’re right, we do need to resolve this issue sooner rather than later.”

Andrasta moved toward the edge of the balcony. “You’re not coming?”

“I’ll just slow you down.”

She snorted. “I think you’re just lazy.”

“There is a bit of that. However, someone’s got to start going through the stuff we hauled in today and getting rid of it. Better if we move it before people notice it missing.”

“As long as you’re doing something,” she said as she began lowering herself down the drainpipe. “Might want to practice the flute again too.”

“Don’t worry about the flute. It’ll be fine.” He paused. “Be careful, dear.”

He gave her a wink before disappearing back into their room. Andrasta contemplated that wink and the use of ‘dear’ for a moment, and then hurried down to the alley floor.

* * *

“So you see again, I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I really wanted to come back to the palace sooner when I knew you’d be waiting in the library. However—”

Mira placed her hand over the girl’s mouth. She had been trying to get a word in for several minutes, but Lela would not cease talking. She had never seen her so flustered or excited before. “It’s fine. Just calm down and tell me what you learned.”

Lela relaxed as Mira moved her hand away and sat in her favorite chair.

“Well, I tried following Lord Rickar, but he and Yumna kept talking in a language I wasn’t familiar with. I realized the only way I’d get the information you needed was by engaging them.”

Mira blinked in surprise. “You spoke with the foreign emissary for Bratanic?”

That takes guts from someone of her station.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I know it wasn’t what you wanted me to do, but it was all I could think of.”

“You did fine. Go on.” Mira tried to hide the desperation in her voice but after her meeting with Brahma, any chance of winning his support boiled down to a meeting with Lord Rickar.

Lela gave a summary of the conversation and Mira marveled at the girl’s cunning.
It was a blessing she fell into my lap.

Lela finished her retelling of the conversation with a deep breath. Mira bobbed her head and leaned back in her seat. “So, Lord Rickar isn’t completely enamored with my brother. However, he does want to build a relationship with Bashan. He also feels slighted that he was not offered an invitation to the party before the Raivataka festival because he desperately wants to study the tower.”

“That’s the gist of it, Your Majesty. I got the impression he would be more than willing to speak with you in private about any concerns or ideas you might have.”

Then let’s make the most of that meeting.
“Why wait for the party? I’m going to open up the tower for him and him alone. That should get his attention. Then we’ll see what Bratanic is really willing to do.”

CHAPTER 19

Andrasta swore incessantly in not only her tongue, but also in the smattering of other languages Rondel had taught her in their time together. Swear words always seemed to be the ones she remembered easiest.

She did her cursing while running through the darkened city, chasing after a wagon that barreled down the lit, busy streets of Bashan. She tried to follow after the wagon discreetly at first, but the jostling crowd hampered her ability to keep up with it, and before long she found herself barely able to spot it ahead.

The moving wagon had picked Lela up just outside the palace’s gates. One of the men aboard threw the girl into the bed while palace guards averted their gazes from the suspicious activity.

Under normal circumstances, she would have easily caught up to the wagon, but because it all happened in front of the palace, she could not position herself as close as she would have liked lest she draw undue attention.

She tried to keep up with the wagon, but the crowds only thickened.

She took a gamble and veered sharply to the right down a dark alley. It emerged onto another street that ran parallel to where the wagon rolled. The street was less busy and she moved more freely, certain she would catch up just ahead.

She reached an intersection, stopped, and waited.

The wagon wasn’t there, nor could she see it in any direction.

She cursed again.

Backtracking a bit, she cut through a different alley and re-entered the street the wagon vanished from. No sign of the wagon.

It makes no sense. Why would it turn off so soon?

* * *

Of all the places Lela thought someone might try to harm her, the area she least expected was just outside the palace’s walls. However, she had barely taken twenty paces out of the gate when someone lifted her from the ground and flung her into the back of a passing wagon. She landed hard, wincing at her shoulder.

Her struggling ceased with the voice of Chand in her ear. “Be still.”

This is wrong. Aren’t I one of them now? They didn’t do this last time.

She swallowed dread, whispering a question. “Is something wrong?”

A hand slapped the side of her face. It had been a long time since Chand had struck her. The familiar sting quickly brought back memories of the previous times. He did not answer her question. The slap said enough.

Time passed slowly with only the noise of the rattling wagon wheels and the chatter of passersbys to keep her company in the back of the bouncing wagon. She tried to catch snippets of conversation when she could, but not because she expected to learn anything useful. Instead, doing it provided her a distraction from the smell of fish guts rising off the wagon’s bed.

Of all the luck.

Eventually, they stopped. Chand yanked her out. A quick look around told her she was in the old warehouse district, an area full of rundown buildings, home to most of the city’s illegal drug production.

Ushered inside with three of Beladeva’s goons flanking her, Chand led her through one of those production areas. Despite the time of night, dozens of men, women, and children worked around long tables, mixing chemicals. A scent of hot tar lingered in the air. She knew the smell well and because of it actually longed to reacquaint herself with the fishy wagon bed.

Opium.

She grew angry just thinking about the likelihood that all those years Kunal had struggled with his addictions, the product had come from the very person she worked for.

Just past the tables, off in a corner, rested two chairs. Beladeva sat in one. The other was empty. Chand directed her to it.

“I’m disappointed in you,” the crime boss began. “You’ve been lying to me. Or at the very least withholding truths. You have information that I think you know I’d be interested in. And to me that’s the same thing as lying. What do you have to say for yourself?”

She swallowed her nervousness, but it got hung up in her throat, causing her voice to quiver as she answered. “If I’ve withheld information, it wasn’t on purpose. Can you tell me how you think I lied? Then I can better explain myself.”

“Lord Rickar and his bodyguard.”

She waited until realizing she’d get nothing more. She didn’t know how to respond so she simply began her report, retelling Beladeva about why they were visiting the city, how they met with the prince, and once more about what the prince hoped to gain from the emissary of Bratanic. Lela planned to stop there, but could tell by the look on both Beladeva and Chand’s faces they expected more. She added that Princess Mira also planned to meet with Lord Rickar in private tomorrow night in the hopes of convincing him not to support the prince.

Beladeva studied her for a moment, then grunted. “Several weeks ago, a promising young girl stole some money off a merchant and a banker. She was overly ambitious but managed to use her head and escape the guards chasing her. That is, until they later cornered her in an alley.” He paused. “At the time, this girl said these guards never cornered her. But that doesn’t make sense given that eye witnesses saw her go into an alley around the same time bank guards were supposedly jumped by a couple dozen men. Witnesses say that two foreigners ran from the area shortly before they saw the same little girl leave.”

Lela tensed.

“Several days ago, I sent some of my men after Lord Rickar. He was spending money like it was his last day alive. I paid off their driver to set up an ambush in a secluded part of the city. Eight men, including the driver. More than enough for a prissy foreigner and a woman bodyguard.” He paused. “They all died.”

Though Lela knew Rondel and Andrasta had a confrontation with the organization, she didn’t have to feign surprise at Beladeva’s news. She hadn’t known how many men they fought or that Rondel and Andrasta had killed them.

He continued. “Today my men discovered two freelancers encroaching on my territory, breaking into homes, and stealing. These two took down five of my people, including a minor sorcerer, like they were nothing.”

“I don’t understand.”

Beladeva leaned forward. “They thought they killed everyone. But one survived long enough to describe the two foreigners. That’s when I began piecing things together. Now, the male foreigner from today could have been mistaken for anyone visiting the city. But the woman? How many large women with Juntarkan features do you know in Bashan? Especially one that can fight? I’d venture to say only one.”

“Do you mean that Lord Rickar and his bodyguard were breaking into houses today?”

Beladeva sighed. “Still trying to play me, aren’t you, Little One? Chand suspected you would. That’s why I brought some motivation for you to cut through all the nonsense.”

He nodded to two men who disappeared into a side room. They returned dragging a groaning figure. Her stomach churned in anticipation. Head drooping, clothes battered and torn, Lela didn’t recognize who it was until they dropped the man on the floor and rolled him over.

“Kunal!” She jumped from her seat, moving toward him.

Chand blocked her path. A fist slammed into her gut. She fell hard. “No one told you to get up.”

Bile rushed into her throat. Her hand went to her stomach. Still, she managed to croak, “What did you do to him?” she asked, already knowing.

“Sit down.”

Lela frowned, but obeyed. She stood and stumbled back to her chair, all the while staring at Kunal who breathed shallowly on the ground. “You gave him opium?”

“Yes,” said Beladeva. “Surprisingly, he didn’t accept the drug at first. I believe he had actually turned a corner this time. However, he realized it was in everyone’s best interest, namely yours, to listen to me.” He clapped his hands and smiled. “Now, let’s continue. Lord Rickar and his bodyguard are not really emissaries from Bratanic, are they?”

Lela looked to Kunal, fought back tears, and then turned to Beladeva. She shook her head.

“Finally. Do you know who they really are?”

“Yes.”

“Rondel and Andrasta?”

She blinked, taken aback.

“Don’t be surprised. The stories of what they’ve done in Iget, Erba, and everywhere in between are spreading. Who else would fit the description of the Juntarkan but Andrasta?” His eyes narrowed. “When did you start working with them?”

“A week ago.”

“Not at the docks?”

“No. They did help me, but it was purely coincidence.” She felt Chand’s cold stare from lying to him weeks prior.

“Why did they help you? What did they want?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean they just did it out of the kindness of their hearts?”

“I think so.”

“And how is it that you’re working with, or rather for them now?”

“I sought them out just to thank them, I promise. But we started talking, and it just sort of happened.”

“What happened? You’re still trying to guard your tongue. Do I need to give your uncle another dose? I have to warn you that he’s already had quite a bit. No telling how his body might react to more so soon.”