The Tower of Bashan (21 page)

Lela pushed aside her thoughts while shuffling up the line. She couldn’t let possible futures affect her current situation. She had to focus.

* * *

Princess Mira paced the library’s carpeted floors, stopping just before the rug ended and the marble tile began. The annoying tap of her shoes against the stone would only distract her from her thoughts. She had spent most of the night contemplating what to do about her brother’s play for power and war.

She had already sent out several messages to the leaders of Bashan’s most influential families. She did so discreetly, hoping that with her brother leaving the city before dawn on one of his last-minute trips with his friends, she could take advantage of his absence over the next several days. She reasoned Minander would find out about her contact with the houses eventually. And when he did, he would be livid. But she couldn’t let that stop her.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s Lela, Your Majesty,” the girl announced herself.

“Come in.”

Lela entered, carrying Mira’s breakfast on a covered silver tray. She smiled. “Good morning, Your Majesty. I hope you had a restful night’s sleep.”

Mira returned the smile weakly. “I believe you know that I didn’t.”

Lela nodded and set the tray down on a nearby table. Removing the lid, she began spreading orange marmalade over Mira’s bread. Though the smells sent Mira’s empty stomach rolling, the thought of food made her ill.

Too nervous. Best to get this over with.

“Lela, sit down, please. There, in my chair is fine.”

The girl hesitated for a moment before obeying. “Did I do something wrong, Your Majesty?”

“No. In fact, you may have done things too well.”

Lela bunched her face in confusion.

“The more I’ve thought about last night, the more I’ve realized that I have to do something to stop my brother’s plans. I cannot,
will not
, allow him to start a needless war with the other city-states of Kindi. My brother left Bashan earlier this morning and I’ve already scheduled meetings throughout the day to take advantage of his absence.”

“Does Her Majesty need anything from me to prepare for these meetings?”

“No. I have something more important for you to do outside the palace. I need you to learn more about Lord Rickar.”

The girl jumped. “I don’t understand.”

Gods, I hate to put her in this position but I need to leverage any advantage I have.

“Last night you said you were good at being unnoticed outside of the palace. I need you to prove that to me. If Bratanic chooses to support Minander, his war will begin all the sooner. I need all the information I can to stop that from happening.”

“You want me to spy on Lord Rickar and report back to you what I discover?”

“Yes. Can you do it?”

“I can try.”

“For Bashan’s sake, I hope you can do more than that.”

“Of course, I’ll see to it right away.” Lela began backing away to the door.

I’m being too hard on her. Too demanding. That’s not fair of me.

“Wait.” Mira said.

Lela paused. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’ve become . . . important to me. I don’t want you to come to any harm.”

For multiple reasons.

A small grin pulled at the corner of the girl’s mouth. “I won’t.”

* * *

Lela exited the library, blinded by morning sunlight streaming through the windows on the eastern wall. Servants rushed about the busy hallway, exchanging quick nods, scowls, or smiles depending on the recipient as each hurried about their business.

She tried not to fidget as she walked, but couldn’t help herself. After last night’s meeting with Beladeva, she didn’t think her life could get any more complicated.

Gods, was I wrong.

A part of her was pleased that the princess trusted her to carry out such an important task. It meant that she had not only done her job well, but had impressed the most powerful woman in Bashan enough to draw her notice. Under normal circumstances, she’d be floating, rather than walking, outside the palace.

Guilt washed over her. The princess had garnered a bit of a reputation among the commoners as being a cold woman. However, Lela knew that those tales were false, a misinterpretation of a thoughtful woman forced into making tough decisions.
No better proof than the fact she’s shown concern for me more than once.

She would love to do nothing better than to truly help Mira achieve her goals for Bashan.

But I can’t.

Beladeva. Rondel and Andrasta. Now Princess Mira.

My life has grown into chaos.

* * *

The day passed slowly for Lela, not because of laziness, but worry. Her plan had been to meet with Rondel and Andrasta at their inn. She would fill them in on the happenings of the palace and formulate a plan for how to handle the situation with Princess Mira.

However, according to the inn’s manager, specific instructions were left not to disturb Lord Rickar, regardless of who showed. Lela waited in the inn’s lobby for hours hoping Rondel or Andrasta would make an appearance.

Tired of waiting, she left the inn, swept around back and shimmied up a drain pipe to the first window ledge—a difficult climb made more challenging by her sari. After some careful searching and a bit of luck, she found their room. She entered their window by way of the balcony.

The room was empty.

Great.

She knew she should leave. If someone caught her, she’d have a hard time explaining her presence. But curiosity got the better of her.

Rummaging through their things, she discovered the notes that the two had previously referenced. She couldn’t read the foreign language, but she did study the various diagrams and pictures. Never had she seen such meticulous detail. Her heart beat rapidly in excitement.

Maybe this isn’t as much of a long shot as I thought.

She finished sifting through the stacks of papers, then carefully placed them back in the trunk next to a bag of several clay containers and other small vials of dark liquids and powders. She had no idea what was inside them and after careful inspection of the wax seals on the outside thought it best to keep it that way.

She took a seat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t leave until she spoke to them, and she had nothing to do to bide her time. Her eyes flicked to the pillow behind her. A wave of fatigue struck her.

Why not?

* * *

Mira had left the library only twice since morning. In both instances, it was to freshen up and tend to nature’s needs. The library, her cozy nook within the massive palace, had become a revolving door of hopes, promises, and crafty word play. In times past, she never would have held meetings in her personal sanctuary, but the rules had changed, and she dared not speak freely in other parts of the palace where many of Minander’s personal servants patrolled. She knew her meetings would get back to her brother when he returned, as would most of the points of discussion. However, she wanted to do her best to curtail the flow of information.

Gulzar took a sip of the wine offered to him, smiling over the glass’s brim. He wore light-yellow churidars and a turquoise sherwani. Mira thought the feminine colors did little to add strength to the man’s soft face and thin build.

Gulzar came into power as a result of his father’s passing two years ago. Several poor business decisions shortly after taking control of his family’s holdings almost bankrupted the work of generations.

How did he pull it all together and become Minander’s closest confidant?

“You look as beautiful as ever, princess,” he said after taking another sip. A small wink followed.

Under normal circumstances, she would either ignore the comment or put an end to such nonsense.
But that was when I had the power to be more bold. Now, the last thing I want to do is turn the man off to anything I want to say.

Though it pained her greatly to put up the façade, she smiled. “My lord is too kind.”

I probably should compliment him too.
However, Gulzar had a reputation for thinking of any woman, regardless of station, as a potential conquest. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she had any interest.

“Not at all. I would love the opportunity to show you how kind I can be. . . .”

His words trailed off like a leaf on the wind, hanging in the air, waiting for someone to snatch. That someone wouldn’t be Mira. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes in disgust.

Gulzar was the last of the noble houses most loyal to her brother she was meeting. Based on conversations with the other houses as well as information already collected over the last several days about activity within the city, she felt that learning more about Gulzar was crucial to stopping her brother’s plans.

She cleared her throat. “Gulzar, I have a delicate matter to discuss.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a delicate creature.”

“A difficult matter then,” she offered, hoping to refocus their conversation. “It’s about my brother.”

“A great man.”

A foolish man.
“Yes. Well, I think he can be. However, there have been rumors that have me concerned. From what I hear, your ships have begun sailing outside of your normal trade routes.”

“This is so. A man of business must never be complacent, but always look to grow. Words my father lived by.”

“I understand. The trade routes themselves aren’t so much my concern.” She recalled the information learned earlier in the day. “It’s what your vessels return with.”

He stirred in his seat. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“They’re returning with large amounts of copper and iron ore.”

Something a man bent on war might be interested in.

“And how does Your Majesty know what my ships contain?”

“Well, I would say it’s because the documentation your captains must submit to port officials are part of public record. However, those documents show nothing of copper and iron ore.”

“Of course not.”

“I did a bit of research and it looks like those records are incorrect, possibly even fraudulent.” Her eyes narrowed. “I met with various members of the blacksmith and metal worker guilds today. At my request, they brought their inventory records with them. Their most recent shipments of iron and copper ore over the last three months have come from someone I had never heard of. Ashok. I asked who this person was. Well, he actually works for someone named Darshan. That name didn’t sound familiar either. After a bit more digging I discovered that Darshan works for Gobind. His name I did recognize.” She paused. “He works for you.”

His eyes grew cold. “Say what’s on your mind, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. Why is a silk merchant bringing large amounts of copper and iron into my city? And why is he trying to hide not only his involvement in these shipments but also their very existence?”

Gulzar shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I cannot speak of the poor record keeping of the metal worker guilds. I can only tell you what’s on my ships. I assure you that copper and iron ore has never filled their hulls. The prince has graced the decks of my vessels many times. He can vouch for me.”

I’ll bet he can. This meeting with Lord Rickar wasn’t the beginning of Minander’s plans for war as I had hoped. He’s been preparing for months behind my back. I underestimated you, brother.
Admitting as much stung.

“My brother isn’t here. I want the truth. I am still your princess.”

His smile returned. “I’m glad you think so.” He leaned forward and reached for her hand. She reflexively withdrew it, suppressing a shiver. A faint chuckle escaped his grinning mouth. “I shouldn’t say anything. It’s supposed to be a surprise. But your brother has promised me your hand once this nonsensical transitional period ends.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. After the last few days the news didn’t shock her as it once would have. Disgust was a far better descriptor.

Give me a wrinkled old man to share my bed over someone who would aid my brother in bringing about our land’s destruction.

Mira ended their conversation without addressing Gulzar’s last remark. She knew better than to press him further. She would get nothing. He was her brother’s in every sense. After parting, she collapsed back in her seat, downing the contents of her glass. The sura tasted sweet, the alcohol already working its way through her body.

After a deep breath to compose herself before the last meeting of the day, her most hopeful, she stood.

Brahma entered the library on the thick arm of his personal servant, a man who could carry the house leader if it came to it. Mira was certain Brahma had seen better days, though she hadn’t seen them. Old when she was at her father’s knee, Brahma always joked that he held Yamana, the Kindi god of death, by the hand. “But I refuse to give that scoundrel the other,” he’d finish with, giggling like a school boy each time he used the line.