The Tower of Bashan (13 page)

Lela pulled away and tilted her head. “I’ve never heard you sound so sure before.”

His smile returned. “I finally hit my bottom and I’m desperate to climb out. In fact, I was thinking I might try to look for work again once I can make myself more presentable.”

She grinned. “What a coincidence. I know someone who is in frantic need of a tailor. They need someone who can work quickly and create one-of-a-kind garments that would impress even royalty.”

Kunal’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if I’m quite ready for something like that. I was hoping to start with something simple and ease myself back into things.”

“Why? You were the best. Everyone used to say so. What better way to get yourself back on your feet than to jump right in?”

He bobbed his head. A hand drifted up to his mouth. He began chewing on his thumb nail. “All right.”

“You’ll meet them at dawn tomorrow in the water gardens. In front of the Erjan sculpture.”

“Odd choice.”

“They’re odd people. Foreigners actually.” She noticed Kunal swaying slightly on his feet. “When’s the last time you’ve had anything to eat?”

“I . . . I can’t quite recall.”

“Come on. I have a bit of coin. We can’t afford for you to pass out while trying to do business.”

CHAPTER 9

After eavesdropping on Kunal’s meeting with Rondel and Andrasta, nothing could ruin Lela’s day. Her uncle had seemed nervous at first, but once he began offering suggestions on color palettes and design, the famous tailor from before quickly re-emerged.

Contracted for more than a dozen items of clothing, the first outfit was due in two days, delivered in person by Kunal outside the city gates. Proudly, Lela had watched her uncle handle negotiations just as deftly as he once had. Kunal convinced Rondel for more than half of the fee up front in order to purchase material and other supplies needed for creation of the garments.

She had worn a grin all the way to the palace, past check in with the guards. It faded when she learned that she would be working with Seeta once again.

An hour into the day, she paused briefly in scrubbing the pink marble floors to admire a teak table imported from northern Kindi. Something crashed into the back of her head, pitching her forward. She spilled half the contents of her bucket of soapy water.

Seeta waddled over. “Watch what you’re doing, fool girl. You wouldn’t want me to report to Chand that you’re already screwing things up around here.”

Lela shook away cobwebs and looked at the object that struck her. “You threw a brush at me!”

The old woman grabbed her by the arm with surprising strength and twisted. “Next time I’ll do more if you don’t quit your sightseeing. Your job is to scrub them floors, not look for things to steal.”

“I wasn’t looking for things to steal. And my job is supposed to be a personal servant to the princess, something Chand said you would help me become.”

“I am helping.”

“How?”

“By toughening you up. The princess isn’t one for compassion. The first time you upset her, you’re gone. And I know Beladeva will be very disappointed if that happens. So think of this as me doing you a favor, I’m protecting you until you’re ready to be assigned to the princess. Now, get back to work.”

What kind of a fool do you think I am? You’re doing no one a favor, but yourself.

* * *

Mira walked the long fourth floor hallway in a hurry. Her brother, the most gracious prince of Bashan, the royal pain himself, had decided to take certain matters into his own hands.

She struggled to keep the sour look off her face.

Having the right to do something and the ability to do something are two completely different things.

Her friendly advice had apparently not fallen on completely deaf ears. She had sought to smooth things with Brahma, thinking her brother would likely fail to do so on his own.

He hadn’t failed after all.

Minander granted the already powerful merchant sole access to the trade routes of Mandawain and Cantonai.

Too much, brother. Way too much.

She glanced to the walls of the hallway. Paintings of Bashan throughout the city’s history hung on each side. In front of each painting stood a black marble pedestal. On each rested a white marble bust of the city’s ruler at the time of each painting’s commission. Every ruler had received a bust, including her father.

Even King Bimbisara has a bust and he ruled for all of a month before dying of the flux.

She bit her lip in frustration knowing that she’d never have a bust of her own because her temporary rule had never been official.
All my efforts to keep Bashan from falling apart, everything I did to help her grow will either be forgotten or attributed to Minander as successes at the beginning of his reign.

A crash sounded. A shuffle of hurried footsteps followed.

Mira paused.

“You stupid, stupid girl!” snapped a voice full of grit. A thud sounded.

“Ow. You kicked me!” cried a much younger voice.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did. I ought to wring your little neck.”

“I didn’t break it!”

Mira frowned and worked her way silently toward the room where the shouting originated.

“Are you saying I did? I’ve had enough of your lip. I’ll see that today is your last day.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what I can do. Just wait until—”

Already angry at her brother’s idiocy, Mira stormed into the room. A young girl dressed in a simple yet elegant red and purple sari sat on the floor on one side of the room. Her hands were up to defend herself from the drawn back arm of a bent-back old woman. Recognizing the old woman only angered Mira more. “Seeta, what is going on in here?”

“Your Majesty,” Seeta dropped to her knees, wincing as she descended. “I’m sorry if this clumsy girl disturbed you. I’m afraid she broke a precious piece from your collection.”

She gestured to the other side of the room. On the ground lay several dozen azure pieces of a vase some two hundred years old.

Mira narrowed her eyes. “How did she break the vase from the opposite side of the room?”

Seeta stuttered an answer. “She broke it and ran. When I caught up to her, she fell here.”

“
You
ran? And you caught up to a little girl? I find that hard to believe. In fact, I don’t believe it at all. I was passing by when I heard the vase break. The only footsteps I heard were your shuffle. The same shuffle you made when I caught you trying to sneak into my room a month ago.”

Seeta’s old face reddened. She swallowed hard, voice catching in her throat. “Your Majesty, I—”

“No. I think I’m starting to see a pattern.”

“Your Majesty, please, I beg your pardon. Give me another chance. I did not mean to offend you in any way.”

“Well, you did. Go see Yash right away. Tell him you are no longer allowed on the palace’s grounds. You’re to collect your things and your pay through today. Leave and never return.”

Seeta swallowed. “But Your Majesty, I—”

“Now.”

Seeta bowed her head and left without a word, shoulders hunched as if she was off to face a headsman.

Mira looked to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Lela.”

“You’re new. Is today your first day?”

“Second, Your Majesty.”

That accent. Much poorer than she appears.

“You’ve been quiet and not said anything. Why?”

“I had not been asked to by Your Majesty.”

Mira nodded in satisfaction.
She has potential.
“I appreciate that.” She paused, thinking.
Why not take a chance?
She seems like she could use a break anyway.
“I have need of a personal servant as I cannot find one to my satisfaction. They have all been too old, too nosy, and generally could not be trusted. Would you care to take a turn?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I would be honored.”

“Then hurry along. I was on my way to speak with my brother.”

The girl scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her sari as she came up beside Mira. They walked down the hallway.

“Have you heard the expression, ‘best to be seen but not heard?’” asked Mira.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“In the presence of my brother, it is best not to be seen or heard. He will be annoyed enough by me demanding a conversation, and he will look to take out his frustration on anyone nearby. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. He won’t even know that I’m there.”

* * *

Andrasta sat beside Rondel at the front of the wagon as they exited Bashan. She looked over her shoulder to the wide gate with disappointment and longing. She hoped Rondel’s plan worked.

“It’s just for a couple of days. I promise,” said Rondel.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it bothers you.”

Of course it does.
“It feels like we’re going backward.”

“Sometimes you have to take a step back before you can go forward.”

She spat over the side. “Sounds like one of your overdramatic song lyrics.”

“Part of a play actually. It’s from
A Summertime Folly
, a sad tale written by Grandbury nearly two hundred years ago. It’s about—”

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

He paused. “Fine.”

Andrasta heard the resignation in his voice, but she didn’t care. Even with the knowledge of Rondel’s plan to pose as a foreign diplomat to work his way into the right political circles, she hated leaving Bashan, even temporarily, without the jewel in her possession.

Once they maneuvered around the worst of the traffic near the main gate, Rondel clicked the reins to pick up speed. Their horses obeyed, but neither seemed pleased.

“They’re not comfortable doing this. Especially Jewel,” said Andrasta.

“She’s probably just picking up on all your negativity. Relax and let me handle things.”

“Why couldn’t we have done the work inside the city?”

“Same reason we’re using Lela’s uncle as a tailor. Oddly enough, if he stays clean, he might be better than what I had hoped for. Anyway, anyone in the city who would do the work we need would know the truth about us when ‘Lord Rickar’ makes his triumphant entrance into the city. And we do have to make a grand entrance because anyone worth noticing wouldn’t just sneak into Bashan.”

“A lot of people saw us buying all this material yesterday. What’s the difference?”

“People saw two foreigners, crudely dressed, buy seemingly random materials from dozens of different places. That was intentional. If we had bought everything in one place, it would have been easier to trace. No one will think those two foreigners are the same as the ones who’ll return.”

“And what about the village where you want to have the work done? It isn’t far from the city. What’s to stop them from talking?”

“Quite a bit of coin for one. We’ll be buying silence. Half up front and half again when we leave. Even still, no one will know why we want the work done. Just that we’re getting it done. News about Lord Rickar entering Bashan will probably never even reach the village. It’s too unimportant to them. Even if it does, and they put the pieces together that I am Lord Rickar, no one from the upper class of Bashan will believe a bunch of poor commoners from outside the city, should they even report us.”

* * *

Lela ran through the streets of Bashan. For the first time she wasn’t running from someone, but to someone. The day began on a high note with Kunal getting work for Rondel and Andrasta. It ended on just as high a note with her becoming a personal servant to the princess.

A grin crawled across her face as she realized the latter’s success would likely have not occurred if not for Seeta’s cruelty.

A scrub brush to the head was worth the reward. I guess she helped me after all. Ha.

She went over mental notes from witnessing the confrontation between the prince and princess. Though they had guarded their tongues with servants about, the tension was palpable. Lela picked up several names she hoped would be important as it pertained to disputes over trade routes.

I need to decide how much to tell Beladeva and how much to tell Rondel and Andrasta. I guess it doesn’t make sense to hold back from either since their goals are different. It’s not like they’re competing against each other.

She put aside those thoughts. She’d have plenty enough time to work it out later. The last thing she wanted was for Kunal to see her stressed. She entered their building, dashed up the stairs to their door, and turned the handle while giving it a push. Rather than the door giving, she inadvertently slammed her shoulder into it with a loud thud.

“Ow.”
It’s locked.