If Tana hadn't spotted Jasmine, the governor's men would have found her exactly where they expected, sleeping at the headman's home.
As she reproached herself, the world around her turned to shades of gray. A cock crowed. He sounded forlorn, as if suspecting that nobody would feed him today. Tana gathered her resolve. She had better get on with it.
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She climbed down from the roof. Inside the well, she gritted her teeth against the pain of clay shards that stabbed her bare feet. She drank, then washed stealthily in the small bathing pool. Emerging a short time later, she found a thick mist shrouding the trees. It tasted of ash and felt clammy on her bare head. But it was her friend, she reminded herself. It would help hide her.
She picked her way up the path, stopping often to listen. Birdsong greeted the dawn, cooings and cluckings, whistlings and the piltreet's "lazy girl, girl, girl." Inside the village, Tana crept along the walls. Scenes of destruction played out in every home: cooking pots overturned, bedding slashed, farm implements broken and the pieces scattered. The headman's workshop was the worst. The valuable drills and tools were all missing. The wooden benches had been smashed, then set on fire. Soot smeared the walls, which were fringed with scorched thatch and open to the sky. Tana's bare feet left gritty black prints. When she noticed it, she grabbed a fallen palm frond and dragged it behind her. The deception wouldn't fool a serious tracker, but it should make it less obvious that one person, at least, had been here shortly after the fire.
When she found the dead dog outside a house, a scrap of white fabric caught in its teeth, Tana crouched next to it and cried. Tears ran warm down her cheeks and dripped off her nose. With sorrow came anger. Anger at the soldiers for killing the dog. At the governor for ordering them here, at the spy who had watched her. She was furious with herself, too, for not considering the possibility of pursuit, for putting innocent people in harm's way Kalyan, her heart mourned. What had happened to him?
Deeper still, where she could hardly admit it, Tana was angry with Naghali. The goddess scorned her pilgrimage, strewing
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devastation in Tana's wake. Many of the villagers had seen her; they had no reason to lie about that. The soldiers would be searching the roads for a bald-headed, orange-robed, stupid girl who spoke snakes and toads.
Tana hiccupped and wiped her eyes on the robe, now stained with soot. Inside the house, Tana found a worn yellow dress wrap and shawl, not too badly singed. She took off the pilgrim's robe and put on the dress wrap, tying the shawl over her shaved head. If the morning stayed cool, nobody would find it strange. Kneeling by the household shrine, she prayed to Brother Akshath that the war god recognize the dog's courage and speed his rebirth. She hoped the brave soul might protect his own more successfully in his next life.
Under the shrine, Tana noticed the broken pieces of a house naga's pot. The ratter lay a short distance away. Its head had been severed from its body in a display of cruelty that made the tears start again. Crying, she bundled the dead animals into her discarded robe.
Judging from the broken, unfired pots littering the courtyard, the next house belonged to a potter. The kiln wood stacked along the wall had burned to a deep bed of coals. Tana raked them together to make a pyre for the bodies. On it, she also burned two more dead dogs, a chicken, and all the village ratters. The soldiers had broken the pot under every household shrine and killed any house naga sleeping inside. The smell of cooking flesh made Tana retch, but she didn't leave the village until all the dead had been burned. By the time the morning fog cleared, the betraying column of smoke should be gone.
After Tana had dealt with the bodies, she washed again. Then she returned a last time to collect what food she could find: a bag of
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dried chickpeas, another of rice, and some dried fruit. Occupied in her sad work, she felt her resolution harden like a clay pot in the flames.
She wouldn't wear a pilgrim's orange robe or beg for food in Naghali's name any longer. She wouldn't speak and let one more snake fall from her mouth to be cut up by the governor's butchers. Tana could no longer call her flight from Gurath a pilgrimage. Not after this. The goddess might have turned her back on Tana, but Tana would keep faith with the people who had been taken in her place. If she had to walk all the way to Lomkha, she would find them.
And she would send word to Diribani, in hopes that her sister could convince Prince Zahid to punish Tenth Province's lawless governor and set his captives free.
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***
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Diribani
I trust you'll be comfortable here," Ruqayya said. Fingers adorned with rubies and pearls waved Diribani through an arched doorway and into the suite of rooms.
"It's lovely." Diribani left her slippers at the door. Her bare feet sank into the carpet. A flower design woven in tones of pistachio, melon, and berry, it gleamed with the sheen of silk. Diribani wanted to kneel and touch it, but after the morning's difficult interview, she preferred not to play the country maid where a passing courtier could see.
Although the younger ones had gotten used to her, Lady Yisha and her friends continued to treat Diribani with condescension, as if she were a superior type of conjurer, producing more than the usual silk scarf from her sleeve. Someday, their expressions said, you'll slip, and we'll understand how the trick is done. Then we'll ship you back to the dusty town His Highness plucked you from. In the meantime, it amuses him to honor you, and suits us to indulge the royal whim. As long
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as Diribani remembered her manners. The prince ate first, always, and then the princess, and then the rest of the court.
With Ruqayya strolling behind her, Diribani walked through the suite. She wished Tana were with her to admire the carpets scattered over floors of inlaid marble, plastered walls painted in shades of cream and tea, the mirror-encrusted dressing room. Tall windows set with intricate stone screens overlooked the rest of Fanjandibad. Diribani saw the fort's grand audience hall, soldiers' barracks, stables, prayer halls, and other buildings they had passed on the long climb up the hill. Four hundred steps, Nissa had said, from the gate in the massive walls to the palace at the top of the hill. Diribani's knees still felt them.
One of those buildings would be the artists' workshop. She couldn't identify it from above, though she lingered at the window for an extra moment. As she turned back inside, a young woman whisked out the door, her arms full of bedding and gauzy clothing. Diribani recognized the maid. After a moment's reflection, she wished she hadn't.
"These are Lady Yisha's rooms?" she asked her hostess.
"They were," Princess Ruqayya said. "She'll be moving in with a cousin, on a lower floor."
"It's kind of her to give up her apartment for my sake," Diribani said.
"Not a bit," the princess returned. "You should have seen her face when I told her. She'd have had her elephant hoist you up by the neck and drop you in a ditch outside the walls if she thought I wouldn't find out." A trill of laughter issued from Ruqayya's lips. The sound was so unlike her usual straightforward manner that Diribani stared. "Never fear. Everyone knows you're under our
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family's protection. And Yisha was getting rather tiresome, acting as if her father was chief adviser to God Himself, not a mere emperor." The princess bared her teeth in a fierce smile. "A taste of humility will improve her character."
Humility? Or humiliation? Diribani didn't ask.
Entering the fort's gates had changed Ruqayya, and not for the better, as far as Diribani was concerned. The princess's manner had become both more arch and more cryptic. That one speech seemed to contain several warnings, but Diribani wasn't sure what kind exactly, or how many. Again, she missed her sister. With her skill at marketplace bargaining, Tana would be better at deciphering Ruqayya's underlying message.
If anything, her hostess's conversation reminded Diribani of an elaborate sweet the cooks had served recently. Layer upon layer of pastry, chopped n
uts, and honey syrup surrounded a caramelized sugar wafer sharp enough to cut your lips unless you knew to eat it by nibbling around the edges toward the center. If Ladli hadn't warned Diribani to eat it slowly the other night, blood would have flavored her portion. Diribani's hand fluttered to her mouth to cover a grimace. "The rooms are so large for one person," she said. "I wouldn't mind sharing."
"You'll get used to it, I assure you." Again, the princess laughed, but then her plucked eyebrows drew together in a slight frown. "I can't let a well-born girl live with you, my dear. Your, uh, gift--you must see how the situation would give rise to jealousy and mistrust. Also, it would put your guards in an awkward position."
"My guards?" Diribani braced for another unwelcome revelation. She glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Zeen and Mahan
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were standing by the door. Lilies, orchids, and precious stones dotted the carpet where Diribani had walked. At any moment, one of the women would be retrieving the gems, noting them in her ledger, and putting them in the locked chest. They left the flowers for Nissa to clean up.
"I mean," Diribani said, "on the road, it seemed practical. But surely there's no one inside the palace who would do me harm."
"Little innocent." Nudging jewels and flowers aside with her embroidered slipper, the princess moved closer to whisper in Diribani's ear. "Learn quickly; the travel idyll is over. Why do you think Zahid and I live in this barren flypit of a district?"
"Because of the diamond mines? And it's a position of great responsibility, overseeing the seat of justice on the southeastern frontier..." Diribani's voice trailed off.
Ruqayya tossed her head. She kept her voice too low for any but Diribani to hear the anger in it. "Before the cool season ends, I imagine you'll have produced as many diamonds as these mines. No, it's because our elder brother doesn't want us exerting any influence over Father. Those who keep us company are either suspect themselves, or paid to spy on us, or both." Her lip curled. "Have I frightened you? Good. Remember the assassin in Gurath. Revenge, greed, necessity: Any could be your undoing. Only think. One of the gems you spit so casually would secure an ambitious man's future."
Diribani swallowed the ugly taste in her mouth. "Thank you for your counsel, my lady." Lotus flowers drifted to the floor.
"It would reflect poorly on our supposed trustworthiness if something happened to you in the heart of Fanjandibad, wouldn't
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it?" Ruqayya primped in a mirror, adjusting her dark curls. "I believe Governor Alwar would ride his horse directly into my father's throne room in Lomkha if Zahid's couriers stopped delivering that lard pudding's share of your jewels."
"Lard pudding?" Diribani said.
"Why, how very undiplomatic of me. Never mind. It's a nasty dish." Ruqayya clapped her hands, effectively changing the subject. "Nissa."
"My lady?" Diribani's maid dropped the bag she was carrying and bowed.
At court, white-coats didn't fold their hands to show respect, Diribani had noted. They bowed, more or less deeply, depending on relative rank. Lady Yisha had resented Diribani from the first day, when she didn't know enough to bow. And now Diribani had taken her rooms. Was this her new fate, to make enemies without understanding what she was doing wrong?
Like a rose's thorn, danger accompanied the fragrant petals of Sister Naghali's blessing.
The princess flicked her fingers at the maid. "I charge you with ensuring that Mina Diribani lacks nothing suitable for her station."
And wasn't that nicely stated? Diribani thought. Ruqayya used the traditional honorific "mina," not the court's "lady," since Diribani wasn't nobly born. That way, others weren't offended that she'd been granted a status she didn't deserve. And if Diribani appeared to presume, the princess could blame Nissa for not following her instructions.
"Yes, my lady." A deeper bow.
"Then I will leave you both to get settled," Ruqayya said. "Rest, if you like, and wash off the road dust. The baths are on the lowest
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floor; Nissa will show you. Since the weather's fine, we'll eat this evening on the upper rooftop terrace."
"Thank you, Your Highness." Instead of bowing, Diribani folded her hands, Gurath-style.
Ruqayya's lips twitched, but she didn't comment on the minor rebellion. At the door, she spoke briefly to the guards, then called out again to Diribani. "By the way, Mahan and Zeen have their orders. My brother has proclaimed that, unless given expressly by your hand, the jewels that fall from your lips are to be considered royal property. Their theft is punishable by death."
"What?" Diribani couldn't contain her dismay, even as a particularly fine piece of jade plunked onto the carpet. "But he said that Fanjandibad didn't covet Gurath's gift, that the jewels would go to Tenth Province and glorify Naghali-ji."
"And so they will. Zahid's word is law." Princess Ruqayya gestured in graceful apology. "But people can be so undisciplined. Especially those who don't believe in your Gurath gods and goddesses. This way, no one will be tempted to tuck a diamond into her coat sleeve. For her dowry, or to pay off a father's debts. Don't you agree, Nissa?"
"Yes, my lady." The girl stared at the carpet, where real flowers overlaid the woven ones. Her expression did a poor job, Diribani thought, of concealing raw terror.
"I'm glad we understand one another," the princess purred. In a sweep of white brocade, she left the room.
The moment Ruqayya's voice could no longer be heard issuing orders to the servants in the corridor, Diribani snatched the nearest three gems from the floor. She dragged her maid by the elbow to stand in front of the guards. "Mahan, Zeen," she said, "I want you to
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witness that I am presenting Nissa with this ruby, sapphire, and emerald." As she named each stone, she set it deliberately on the girl's moist palm. "She may dispose of them however she chooses."
"Yes, my lady."
"As you command, my lady."
Diribani couldn't tell whether her bland-faced guards approved or disapproved of her action, and she didn't care. She had to assume that they would report each word she spoke, down to the last rati, to Ruqayya.
"A thousand blessings on your head, my lady." Nissa had fallen to the floor and was pressing kisses to the carpet at Diribani's feet.
"Eyo!" Diribani said, disconcerted out of her temper. "Stop that, please. I should have thought of it before." She should have thought of a lot of things, but, as Tana would say, it was no use standing on one leg to kick yourself for being clumsy; you'd fall over for certain.
As Diribani extracted herself from Nissa's effusive gratitude, the ever-present knot of loss tightened in her chest. In these palatial rooms, every comfort--suited to her station, of course--could be enjoyed at the snap of her fingers. And yet it seemed a wasteland in comparison with the humble house in Gurath. There a few bare rooms had contained people who loved her.
At least Tana and Ma Hiral had each other. Diribani didn't even have news of them. Without benefit of imperial courier, their letters had yet to catch up with her. The court ladies were relieved to be home, but Diribani felt so lonely she would have been glad to find a house naga's clay pot under the window. She hadn't noticed one as she walked through the palace. Perhaps white-coats who didn't kill snakes on sight kept them in the kitchens. Diribani wouldn't have minded banishment to their fair-minded company. You knew
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where you stood with snakes. Unlike courtiers, ratters made no distinction in their treatment of the humble and the mighty. They hunted as happily for a farmer in his hut as for an overseer in his mansion. More happily, probably. Farmers had fatter rats.
Diribani tried to imagine Lady Yisha attempting to intimidate a house naga. The thought lifted her spirits until bedtime, when she lay on soft sheets and stared at the moonlight filtered by stone screens. What was she doing here?
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***
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Tana
FROM dusk to foggy dawn, Horse Month to Monkey M
onth, Tana followed the kidnapped villagers across Tenth Province. As if transporting a herd of valuable wild elephants, the soldiers moved the people and their livestock after dark, from one walled enclosure to another, along the emperor's road.
Thick evening mists favored Tana's pursuit. Bare feet quiet on the hard-packed dirt, Tana maintained a discreet distance from the creaking carts. Her shawl and the walking kept her warm as she plodded along, listening to the cries of owls and other night hunters. A distant howling alarmed her, but the pack of wild dogs didn't approach the mounted soldiers. Leopards posed a greater danger. Several times, she heard the distinctive barking cough. Ahead, torches flared and men shouted. Tana quickened her pace. More than discovery, she feared straggling behind, lest a big cat mark her as easy prey.
When dawn broke, she scouted her surroundings for a safe
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place to eat, wash, and rest. Tana had never traveled so far from home. If she hadn't been worrying about the others, she would have enjoyed her morning and evening glimpses of the countryside. Gradually, the road curved north, away from the river Saris marshy course. As the ground became higher and drier, the coastal landscape of fields carved from jungle changed. The vegetation thinned. In place of great mango, pinkfruit, and tamarind groves, scrubby trees and bushes poked out of the soil. Fewer people lived in the northeastern part of Tenth Province. They seemed poorer, scratching out a living from fields pinched between walled white-coat estates. The powerful artisan guilds didn't extend this far, making craft enclaves less common. Tana rarely saw the vivid swaths of dyed fabric drying on a village's mud-brick walls, or heard the distinctive rattle of gem drills and polishers. Even the region's stepwells were plainer affairs, large open tanks without the shade pavilions of Gurath's sacred well.
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