“Thank you. …How do I get there from here?”
“I’ll write it down for you.” She smiled, and less than a minute later handed him a slip of parchment.
Gita still waited outside the office, her back pressed flat against the stone wall. Amna’s reins were wrapped tightly enough through her fingers to purple them.
“I’m back. You can relax now.”
Her head jerked around so she could see him and she relaxed, relief and embarrassment washing over her face by turns.
“They haven’t seen him, but they told me where we might look. Ready?”
She nodded. The streets were beginning to fill up, but it was nothing like weaving through the bazaar at any time of day. When they passed within earshot of a small commercial district, Bahadur detoured through it. He was already tired of being stared at like some slave master. A copper bit and two pennies for a pale blue and yellow chaataa were a small price to pay to stop drawing that sort of attention.
The directions they were given stopped in front of a home that was large by the standards of Q’uungerab, but did not seem at all out of place in this section of Udhampna. The district had the air of a place where money was earned but not scarce. If Bahadur was any judge, he thought this was where the smaller business families probably congregated.
“Ready, Gita?”
She shrugged with one shoulder, and even that seemed like more effort than she cared to spend. He raised the brass knocker – a simple curved affair with a knob at the end – and rapped it against the doorplate. Silence stretched on for several minutes. Bahadur was about to try again when a man with gray-flecked hair in dark trousers and a pale tunic opened the door and bowed deeply.
“The master of the house bids me inform his unscheduled visitors that he is engaged with pressing business this afternoon, but if they would care to leave a calling card he will attend to them as time allows.”
“I’m afraid I have no calling card to give. We have only just arrived in the city today from Q’uungerab. Perhaps you know, though: has Shahin returned?”
His eyes widened, and he turned to look more fully at Bahadur. “You are acquainted with the man?”
“You could say that.”
“We have not seen him. However, I believe the mistress of the house may wish to speak with you. Please, wait a moment.”
The servant closed the door again, but was not gone long.
“Forgive my rudeness. If you will follow me, Mistress Varti has bid me show you in.”
Bahadur suspected that Mistress Varti received most of their visitors. The sitting room was a quiet affair, airy and palely feminine. A mantle on the wall displayed several intricately carved wooden animal figures; the camel on the end was conspicuously unfinished. The servant gestured for them to take a seat on one of the couches in the room, whitewashed wood with a saffron mat and rose-colored cushions. Bahadur sat gingerly, abruptly aware of how dirty he was. Gita stood at the arm of the couch looking uncomfortable.
“May I offer you some tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Very well. Mistress Varti should be along shortly.” The servant excused himself, and Bahadur gingerly shifted to the edge of the seat. He didn’t dare touch the cushions: neither of them had been able to bathe on their trip, nor did they own more clothes than they wore. He felt like a black smudge marring the whitewashed walls and gilt-touched furniture of the room.
Mistress Varti arrived on the heels of a servant bearing tea in an elegant but simple pottery service. Her lustrous black hair was braided and curled about her head in a coronet, and her long tunic was a vibrant scarlet.
“Please, be at ease.” Her voice could have been pleasant if it had succeeded at disguising her own anxiety. “I am told you carry word of my brother.”
“Yes, but I am afraid it may be unpleasant news for you.”
“It is still better than not knowing. My son has been caring for his animals since Shahin left, but he should have returned long since.”
“As you say.” Bahadur began the story with questioning Shahin regarding the disappearance of the merchant. It seemed the appropriate moment. He did not tell her what it was that attacked the city, though he was careful to include everything he knew of Shahin’s actions. As he spoke, she picked up the unfinished carving and began turning it in her hands before returning to the other couch. “The last I saw him, he was sending the two of us on ahead as we were pursued through the salt mines. Not many minutes later, there was an explosion. It was never likely that he made it out, but we had to hope.”
She sat in silence for what felt like a long time, staring at the carving he thought sure Shahin had made. “That… all sounds very much like my brother. The events that would lead him to join a Chèin’ii caravan must have been extraordinary. I’m afraid he hasn’t been back. Based on the story you told, I very much doubt he will be… I will offer you what help we can, in return for bringing this news. For this evening, why don’t you lodge in his apartment? I’m afraid our guest room is inaccessible at the moment.”
“That is already a help, my lady. Thank you.” He took a deep breath and glanced at Gita. “I’m afraid there is one other thing I must do. May Gita stay here?”
“What?! Why would you leave me behind?”
“Because I will be trying to gain an audience with the head of the Guard as a representative of my Prince. Udhampna and Q’uungerab have a longstanding alliance. Now tell me Gita: as a Chèin’ii, how is the local guard going to look at me if we show up together?”
She set her jaw.
“It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but if we show up together I’m just a refugee, not an officer of the Q’uungerab Guard.”
“Fine. Go, then. I’ll get by on my own.”
“Aren’t you a little old to sulk like that? I shouldn’t be long.”
Varti stepped up now and offered her hand to the girl. “Come on, Gita. Won’t it be nice not to have to traipse all the way back across the city – twice – after you’ve had such a long journey? We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you can take it easy while he fights with the bureaucracy.”
Gita didn’t say anything, but she did accept Varti’s hand.
“Thank you,” Bahadur mouthed.
* * *
Before he struck back out toward the Naukers building, Varti handed Bahadur a wet cloth. “Wash your face, at least.” She didn’t have to offer twice: face and hands were cleaned as best he could on his way to the door, and he dabbed at the tatters of his rank insignia to try and make them a little more recognizable.
On the road again, he set a quick pace. Every day that passed reduced the hope that something of Q’uungerab might be saved, and sustana had already drawn to a close. He did not want to let the sun set on the ruins of his city again without at least trying for aid.
The gallery of the Naukers building was arranged for ease of access: a glance told Bahadur that the Guard Headquarters took up most of the east wing of the second floor. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, squared his shoulders, and marched up the steps.
At first glance, the only real difference between the front area of the Courier center and the receiving area of the Guard Headquarters was the number of people. Downstairs, a half-dozen clerks processed what was apparently a steady stream of people with messages to send. Here, a single clerk staffed an otherwise empty room. She sat up, alert, when the curtain opened, but lost interest almost as soon as she caught sight of the man who entered: a man with the bearing of a guard, but dirty and tattered as though he had fallen on hard times. Bahadur suppressed a sigh: he knew the type. They seemed to gravitate to positions like these.
“May I help you?” The woman behind the desk didn’t even bother to feign interest in her ragged-looking visitor.
“Lieutenant Bahadur, Satapadis southern quarter, of Q’uungerab Pradesh, here to see Major Hyrsanidrus.” Hopefully he remembers me…
“Are you expected?” She didn’t look up from whatev
er it was she was doing on the other side of the desk.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Aaaah. I’m afraid Sub-Administrator Hyrsanidrus is unavailable at the moment. If you leave a calling card, I will make sure he gets back to you in due course.”
Bahadur avoided rolling his eyes, but narrowly. “I’m afraid this is a matter of some urgency concerning the alliance between our two principalities. If you would kindly inform the Sub-Administrator that a representative of Q’uungerab Pradesh has arrived, I am sure we can deal with this without disrupting his afternoon any further than it has to be.”
“And I’m afraid that he is not to be—”
The curtain opened again. This time, it admitted a pudgy, red-faced man in the green and yellow silks of an Administrator. The secretary jumped to her feet.
“Administrator Sanjay! What a rare occurrence. What can the Guard do for you?”
The florid man held up one finger to the woman before turning his attention to Bahadur. “Are you the one who was asking after one of my couriers earlier today? One of my clerks said he had returned.”
“I was.”
Now Sanjay turned his full attention and an oily smile back to the secretary. “I’m afraid I can verify that this man comes from where he says he does, and he seems to know what became of one of my best men. Don’t you think it would be poor form to abandon our ally in their hour of need?”
“Um, yes, uh, give me just one moment,” she said. Bahadur was rather shocked to see that she was blushing. “I’ll let him know you’re both here.”
* * *
The secretary led them back through the administrative offices of the Udhampna Guard to an office that would have made the Captain of the Q’uungerab Guard blush. Sanjay stepped in first, but Bahadur was quick enough on his heels to see the man swinging his feet off the desk before he rose. “Administrator Sanjay. To what do I owe the privilege?”
The two bureaucrats clasped hands while Bahadur schooled his face. Seven years ago, when Hyrsanidrus and a unit of guards from Udhampna had visited Q’uungerab on exchange, the man had been a no-nonsense Major, disciplined and direct. Based on the casual atmosphere and the paunch showing around the man’s midsection, the promotion had changed the man for the worse.
“I had a courier go missing on a routine run to Q’uungerab. Now this man shows up. Seems like there might be trouble.”
“Oh?” Hyrsanidrus looked for the first time at Bahadur. His eyebrows knit. “Have we met?”
“Yes, sir. Seven years ago, during your exchange.”
The other man blinked. “I don’t remember anyone of your description in the guard there.”
“With all due respect, sir, it has been a hard journey since we evacuated the city. I have come to call upon the old alliance.”
This elicited a pair of raised eyebrows from Hyrsanidrus, and another from Sanjay. “Explain.”
He began at the point where the prisoner, Shahin, had inadvertently confirmed the suspicious report of a scout sent out to look for a body. Telling the story at Tolkanda village had been deeply personal: this was merely a military report, and because of that he was able to give it with military precision.
Hyrsanidrus gave no sign whether or not he believed the report, nor did he respond right away at the end of it. Instead, he stared at the wall and chewed his lower lip in thought for a long moment. “Leaving aside any question of who or what attacked the city, this does in fact call into effect the old treaty. Or it will, if Q’uungerab has not been utterly destroyed. I will attend to the matter.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Think nothing of it.” A smile touched Hyrsanidrus’ lips, but that it missed his eyes was not lost on Bahadur. “If we cannot be relied on even this far…”
“Of course, sir.” Bahadur bowed so the other man would not see the moisture gathering in his eyes.
“Was there anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well. You may be on your way.”
Bahadur was barely two steps away when Sanjay asked, “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
As long as someone goes to help the refugees, Bahadur told himself, it will be okay. As long as someone here is preparing so that it won’t happen again.
* * *
The sun was low on the horizon before Bahadur exited the Naukers building. He had walked quickly to get there before the office shut down for the night. Now he walked quickly in hopes of getting a hot meal from Varti and an address where they could stay.
Bahadur was almost halfway across the city when he realized he was being followed. He was at a disadvantage here and he knew it. Best keep to broad streets as much as possible… Wish I knew the city better. In Q’uungerab, he thought he could have lost a tail. Here, where he only knew one route to his destination? His best bet was to stay in highly visible, highly public places until they gave up.
Alas, it was not to be. The streets had already started clearing for the dinner hour, and it wasn’t much longer before Bahadur’s unfamiliarity with the city forced his hand. The thugs waited until they entered an empty street lined with merchant stalls. One group stepped out from an alley ahead of them, while his tail fanned out behind. Bahadur reached for his kopis but did not draw, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. Bruisers. Bruisers with cudgels, and I’m surrounded. Five, six, eight, ten of them.
“What can I do for you, boys?” He kept his voice even, studying the situation, looking for his escape route.
“Boss thinks you oughta come to ‘dinner’ tonight.”
“Does he, now.”
“Yep. Not the sort of invitation a guy can refuse, if you get my meaning.”
“I’m afraid I do.” He looked back at the thugs surrounding them and sighed. No talking my way out of this one. Bahadur drew his kopis and screamed like a madman, charging the one who flinched most in front of him. No luck; he recovered, rather than pulling back, and Bahadur had to duck to avoid being clubbed over the head. He struck out with his elbow at the man’s groin and took a knee to the chin for his trouble. In the moment before he recovered his balance from the counterstrike Bahadur felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. The world went black.
* * *
When Bahadur opened his eyes, two things were immediately obvious. First, the thugs were kidnappers, not merely robbers. Second, they were careful enough to put him in a room whose only distinguishing characteristic was its featureless-ness. There was simply nothing to see beyond a bare wooden door with no apparent latch. He was pinioned on a chair, his hands and feet tied to its posts. Thorough. Now how do I get out?
Someone must have been watching for him to wake up, although Bahadur couldn’t tell from where. A familiar-looking plump man wearing green silk and white linen trimmed with yellow let himself in. He left the door standing open behind him. Rich, at minimum, probably powerful, definitely full of himself… The Administrator? What in the depths?
“Your crazy tale didn’t fool anyone, you know.” Sanjay took hold of Bahadur’s chin. “What has Shahin found? It must have been fantastically lucrative, to draw him away like that. What has he done, to have a military man doing his bidding?”
“The man saved my life.” Bahadur had not realized until he tried to speak how thirsty he was. “I told you all this already. Q’uungerab has fallen.” Confusion warred with indignation, with the latter having the advantage.
The man backhanded him. Bahadur hadn’t expected him to be the type to dirty his own hands.
“Oh, believe me, we’re looking into your insanity, and Hyrsanidrus will get to the bottom of whatever actually happened. Meanwhile, isn’t it interesting that within a week after Shahin left with the message the old western gold mine collapses? The mine that hasn’t been touched in a century, but everyone knows has another vein? Interesting. I wonder how quickly you will tell us the truth. Hares.” Someone wearing interrogator’s black stepped through the door behind his captor. “See what you can get out of him
.” The fat man turned and started for the door, then paused for a moment.
“Oh. And you’ll be pleased to know that the girl and your friends are unharmed. For the moment, anyway.” The man had the gall to smirk. “Provided you cooperate.”
Bastard.
* * *
“Hares” was very good at what he did, and very careful not to leave a mark that would show in public, but Bahadur could not give up information that did not exist. He began with the truth, and stayed with it until the man decided it was time to let him rest. When he left he took the light with him, and Bahadur was alone in the dark, tied to a chair, his tongue swollen from dehydration. A little light showed from under the door. He allowed himself the relief of a groan against the pain before setting to work. His shoulders and thighs were on fire, and he thought one or two of the man’s blows had left welts that might scar. The memory of Shahin’s face, contorted in pain outside the mines, superimposed itself over the memory of those same contortions in an interrogation chamber. No more than I deserve. They would not accept his story – he certainly wouldn’t – and the threat against Gita and Shahin’s family could not be allowed to stand. He began testing the bonds on his wrists, twisting them back and forth until he stretched the rope enough he could squeeze his hand through. Rope burns and splinters on top of everything. Fantastic.
It was easier now that he had one hand free. They had used small sections of rope to tie each limb separately, so that releasing one would not cause the whole contraption to fall apart. On the other hand, that meant that he was able to simply untie the knots once he had the first hand free. They had taken his kopis, unsurprisingly. However, under the circumstances he had no compunctions about destroying their chair to use as a weapon.
A solid blow against the wall sent the chair clattering into pieces. Bahadur grabbed one of the legs and heard footfalls approaching the door. He pressed up against the wall, improvised cudgel at the ready. A loud creak from the door hinge and light poured in around the silhouette of a guard. The guard spotted the chair lying broken against the far wall as he stepped in. The cudgel came down hard on the base of the man’s skull and he crumpled to the ground. As long as Bahadur didn’t have to face a lot of them at once he shouldn’t have too much trouble getting out of here.
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 13