The Tower of Bashan (8 page)

“Yes.”

“You should have told me.”

“I told you I had a job that could lead to big things.”

“Or death. You should not have gone to work for him.”

Anger flashed. Joining Beladeva’s organization wasn’t a choice she had come to easily. She hated the way people who worked for him treated those who didn’t.
But I won’t live like a rat for my entire life.

“Don’t tell me what to do. Who do you think has been feeding you? If I hadn’t joined Beladeva, we might both be dead.”

“You don’t know that. I’m your uncle and—”

“No, you’re not!”

He winced at her outburst, and immediately she regretted the remark.

Lela lost both parents in skirmishes between several of Kindi’s independent city-states. Her father died serving in a local militia. Her mother died as collateral damage. Orphaned at the age of four, Kunal had found her wandering for food. He’d taken her with him to Bashan where he had hoped to make his fortune as a tailor. After a few weeks, she began calling him uncle. Things went well for several years until Kunal tangled himself up in the city’s opium culture. Orders went unfulfilled. Debts went unpaid. They lost everything.

“You should be the one taking care of me. Not the other way around.” She tossed him a small bag that landed at his feet.

He stared at it, working his jaw. “What is this?”

“You know good and well what it is. I don’t have the money to help you get over your addiction yet, so this is the only alternative I could think of. I told you I’d just as soon buy it for you myself than have you sell yourself again.”

He bent slowly and picked up the bag. A tear fell from his face as his fist closed tightly around it. He wheeled and threw it out the window.

“What are you doing?” she yelled. “That cost me most of the advance I received from Beladeva.”

“No more. I’m done. I . . . I never wanted you involved in what I’ve become.”

“I’ve always been involved.”

“I know. I’ve been lying to myself, but I can’t do it any longer.” He looked up with red eyes. “I’m done. For good. I swear.”

“You’ve sworn that to me before.”

“I mean it this time. And clean, I’ll be able to find work again. Once I do, you can tell Beladeva that you won’t work for him anymore.”

It doesn’t work like that.

Lela kept that to herself. She didn’t want to crush any motivation that might spark Kunal to stay clean. “Prove to me that you can do it and I’ll talk to Beladeva. Until then, I have work to do.”

He must have heard the doubt in her voice. “I can do it, Lela. I know I can.”

She gave him a hug, not caring that her uncle’s filth would undo part of the work to make her presentable. “I know you can too,” she said, wanting to convince herself as much as convince him.

CHAPTER 4

Princess Mira rolled the blown glass goblet in her hand so the
sura
came dangerously close to flowing over the side. She paused, taking a sip of the fermented beverage made from an assortment of rice meal, sugar cane, and grapes. It was cheap, a drink of the commoner, far less refined than the wine her brother drank as he spoke with leaders from each of the major houses in Bashan. However, unlike wine, one did not need to acquire a taste for
sura
. The sweetness made it instantly easy on the palate.

She set her goblet down lightly and folded her hands on the green-marble dining table she shared with her brother and the house leaders. The cool stone against her bare skin helped calm her growing frustration. Mira had keenly listened to the entire conversation through a façade of indifference.

The house leaders noticed the change in her attitude, several stirring in their seats as they cast uncomfortable glances her way. Her brother, Prince Minander, noticed their behavior as well, but refused to acknowledge it. His only response was a furrowed brow beneath a blindingly white turban.

She suppressed a smile.

Mira leaned back in her chair, picked up her goblet, and once more began playing with its contents. She knew that the more powerful leaders of Bashan’s houses would be no more fooled by her behavior than they were before. However, the younger leaders noticeably relaxed.

The dinner ended late. Drinks continued in the palace’s upper hall. Mira mingled just enough to get a feel of the room and make sure a new issue wasn’t broached. She only added her opinion to conversations when directly asked. Otherwise, she played the part of the supportive sister, a princess best seen and not heard according to her brother.

Outside, she wore a smile so wide she thought her thin cheeks might crack. Inside, her stomach rolled with a nauseating sense of annoyance.

She stood at the white marble railing of the balcony just off the library, eying the full moon hovering over the city. Heavy, flat footsteps sounded behind her. She knew the cadence well enough not to turn.

It’s like he feels that by pounding the stone beneath him, it might make him larger.

“My prince.”

Minander came up beside her. He leaned on the railing, looking down rather than out as she had. “Don’t ‘my prince’ me. I’m not blind. I saw what you did.”

“I did just as you asked, little brother.” She saw him wince at her informality. “I kept my mouth shut. I spoke only when spoken to just as you said a good princess should behave.”

He sneered. “Yes, but you said more than enough with each twist of your mouth, roll of your eyes, sigh, and clearing of your throat.”

“I’m sorry. I must be coming down with something.”

“Maybe we should call the royal physician. We wouldn’t want you to catch something serious. I’m not sure what I would do without someone looking over my shoulder and questioning every decision.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I don’t think a physician will be necessary. My symptoms only seem to arise when people ignore solid advice and choose to make reckless decisions instead. So long as you heed my warnings, I should remain in perfect health.”

He seethed. “I wish you would have died instead of father.”

The comment hurt, but she would not show it. To do so would invite more hateful remarks. “Me too, for he would still be ruling Bashan. Regardless, do you think he would have been any easier on you for your choices? He would not have bitten his tongue at dinner when you insulted Brahma by placing Gulzar at your right hand. Instead, he would have called you a child in front of everyone and had you beg for Brahma’s forgiveness.”

“Father would have understood my reasoning. Brahma is an old man that doesn’t have long to live. Gulzar is young and gains more power each day. He has resources that Brahma lacks.”

“What resources?”

Minander smiled, but said nothing.

“Have your secrets then, but you’re wrong about Brahma. He controls the majority of the spice trade in all the city-states of Kindi, let alone Bashan. Old or not, he’s too stubborn to die. Even if he does, he has four sons who would do anything to carry on the wishes of their father. Offend Brahma and you run the risk of upsetting them.”

“Who cares about spices?”

“You should! They are our chief export. Gulzar deals mostly in silks.”

Minander smiled wider.

Foolish brother. I know you’re up to something. I may have promised to keep my mouth shut at dinner, but I’ll not let your behavior slide without looking into it.

“I think you’re letting yourself be lulled in by Gulzar’s empty words,” she continued. “Just because he whispers in your ear does not mean you have to listen. Father never would have elevated him so quickly at his table just as he wouldn’t have placed any weight on the foreign whores Gulzar gifts you.”

Minander’s smile vanished. A scowl took its place. “Father was no priest after Mother died.”

“No. But Father would have bedded the whores and kicked them out of the palace at dawn with a gold coin for their trouble. He would not have given them anything of value or allowed them to linger in the palace. You let them forget their place.”

“Leave Riya out of this.”

“Too late.” She cleared her throat, pausing for effect. “I caught her stealing Mother’s diamond pendant. I’m sure you recall it. Father gave it to her on their wedding day. The one she never took off and hoped you might one day give to your wife. Apparently Riya thought herself ready for the role.”

“What are you talking about? The room where it’s kept is heavily guarded.”

“During interrogation, she admitted to sleeping with two of the guards in order to gain access to the room. However, the third remained faithful to his wife. It was he who reported Riya’s theft. The two guards have been questioned, punished, and relieved of their duties. You can question them if you don’t believe me. Riya is still in the dungeons if you want another night with her before she’s whipped for her crimes and cast out of the city. I’m assuming you approve of my judgment considering her insult.”

His face twisted in anger. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Despite your assumptions, I don’t hate you, Minander. I never have.”

“You want to rule Bashan, but can’t because of me.”

“No. I just don’t want you to lead Bashan down a path Father would not approve.”

Their father, Pandhuka, sent Minander abroad as a boy to study with famous leaders around Untan in the hopes that he would be wiser, well-cultured, and well-prepared after he came of age. Her brother had returned well-traveled, but somehow missed the part about gaining culture and wisdom.

He would have done better to remain under your eye, Father. You sold yourself short.

Minander snorted. “Forget about Father. I rule Bashan and your influence dwindles each day. What will you do when it is gone?”

Her eyes narrowed. She said nothing.

Forced to rule after her father’s death with her brother abroad and still under age, Mira made her share of early mistakes. However, she quickly grew into the role, developing and building upon the work her father began. In a perfect world, her accomplishments would make her worthy to continue as ruler. However, Bashan’s laws were as clear as they were ancient and outdated. A sister could not rule over a brother, even a younger brother, once the brother reached the age of maturity.

With the support of Bashan’s major houses, she had managed to create a transitional phase for handing over the throne due to her concern about Minander’s readiness. Her good intentions to ensure Bashan continued down their father’s path drove a rift between them. It widened each day. The little boy she had loved, looked after, and played with seemed like someone from another life.

What I wouldn’t give to have that brother back again.

He chuckled. “Speechless? I will savor this moment for a long time.”

He walked back inside.

Mira stared at her brother’s retreating back, his golden-hued sherwani cut in a way that gave even his narrow shoulders the appearance of strength.

Clothes may make the man, but they do not make the ruler.

She faced the city, her gaze slowly sweeping across each district before resting on the tower that oversaw it all in a way the six-story palace could never match. Regret tugged at her heart as she thought of what the tower had become.

Turmoil in Kindi among the city-states had developed again early in her reign. With threats of war always looming and Bashan’s coffers dwindling, she had to do something to keep the city financially stable. Her idea to open the area around the tower to the public and charge admission for tours of the entrance had been a difficult choice.

The revenue that spilled into the city erased Bashan’s debt.

Father still would have raged at what that led to.

When Minander entered the transitional phase, he went behind her back and turned the tower into a spectacle, allowing vendors, merchants, and the dregs of the city access. Revenue increased three fold.

But we are even less wealthy because he spends the extra money like a child buying candy. How much does it cost to entertain his so-called friends?

The thought reminded her of letters she would need to write before bed. She needed to find out what Gulzar had his hand in that Minander found so appealing.

She went back inside, thinking on her brother’s last comment. Minander did have the right of it. Her power and influence over the major houses had dwindled. They still showed her respect, but the few conversations she found herself pulled into had a different tone than they would have had a year ago.

What will I do when I have no power left?

Her mouth tasted of bile. She knew the answer.

I’ll be matched and married off to suit my brother’s needs.

She sighed and whispered a prayer, hoping the spirit of her father might hear it.

She could use some of his sage advice.

CHAPTER 5

Rondel could only stay positive about his work for so long.

Carrying a sack of smelly trash, picking up the leavings of other people’s meals, being looked down on as scum, and cleaning up after drunkards with bad aim in the privy had finally become too much for him to take. Twice his boss scolded him for snapping at tourists that gave him a cross look. Andrasta fared no better, cuffing a boy who thought to grab a handful of her womanhood.