The red faded from the earth as the day progressed, and as they wound their way up into the mountains proper the tough, scraggly bushes somehow remained back of the path. She wondered if a clan migrated through here. Stunted trees that she thought she might have seen before clung to the rocks in places. The rocks changed, too, and as they moved deeper into the mountains they saw less and less of the familiar red sandstone and more of an iron-colored rock that did not weather quite so dramatically. By the time Ravi called a halt for sustana, beard grasses had begun to grow in thick clumps. They took shade under an unusually large khejri tree and allowed the camels to forage until the shadows began to lengthen again. That was their cue to gather up the animals and continue still deeper into the mountains.
“I think we’ll reach the spring today. We’ll overnight there, and then we should reach the temple mid-day tomorrow or so.”
“So this is really coming to an end, isn’t it?”
“It really is. Hard to believe it’s only been a few months, huh?”
“A bit.”
“Of course, we still have to get back. It’s not really over until we’re home.”
“…I suppose not.” A weight settled down on her, like an important question she was too afraid to ask. Perhaps both of them were too afraid to ask their important questions: Ravi looked like he had something to say, too. The rest of the afternoon passed like that, and even the sounds of bird call and creatures scurrying through the grass and scrub were insufficient to break into their silence.
The spring that night was barely large enough for the two of them to draw water for their skins from, but at least it was fresh and cool. That was something else Chandi missed dearly; the ability to bathe. Even in Rodsfahan there had been no place to do so – or at least no place she was willing to. Maybe in the morning there would be enough water back to wash her face.
“I think Pari spoiled me.” Chandi started tying down her corner of the tent.
“She’s good at that.” He smiled for the first time all day. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re missing her cooking and the bath, though.”
An easy thing to guess. They were both filthy, and two months of trail food was tiring. “When you leave Sararaq for work, do you ever go this far?”
“I’ve crossed the whole desert once or twice, but this is a harder journey.”
“Traveling in the caravan, you don’t really think too much about how far you’re going. I think it’s the roads, though; you can almost always get between good water within a few days, and having so many of us together makes it better too.” The tent wall stopped flapping as Ravi finished tying the last of the knots. His hands looked unsteady, although they did not quite shake.
“…Chandi.”
“Mmm?”
“When we get back, to Sararaq, you’re welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. I’m sure Pari wants you to stay, too.”
“Thank you, Ravi. It would be good to have a place to stay until the Conclave.”
“The Conclave?”
“Once every two years all the clans of the Chèin’ii gather together for the Conclave. It’s my best chance to find any survivors from my clan, and my only way to warn them all. Assuming they don’t already know.”
“And… if you’re the only survivor?”
“I will seek a new clan. It’s not easy to be adopted like that, but I have to try.”
“You know…” he cleared his throat.
Here it comes.
“You wouldn’t have to be adopted out to a stranger like that. I could… I’d be happy to take you in.” He had balled his hands up into fists.
She half-smiled. He’d left her an easy out, at least. “I’d have to think about it, see how things went before Conclave.” Did he want to adopt her because he was fond of her or because he could pretend she was actually the daughter he’d lost? She wasn’t positive, but she thought it was the latter. That was something she just couldn’t take.
“So you think we’re going to make it there tomorrow, huh?” They sat around their nightly campfire now, enjoying its heat and the bitter tea she brewed from the leaves of some brush she recognized.
He nodded once, slowly.
“And then we find out if this ancient ritual works the way we think it does.” She wished she could set aside the story Raghu had told them. She sighed and let herself lay back, pillowing her head on her hands. From the space freed by the sigh a song bubbled up.
The sun will rise again – jahaiya resh t’on!
Through ev’ry test and trial, so long as men remain,
The world will thrive again – jahaiya resh t’on!
“Well. We are trying to save the world, I suppose. If this doesn’t work, we’ll just try something else.”
“Of course.” Ravi sounded quiet and distant again. His shifting moods were a puzzle.
Probably just nerves. “Tomorrow’s a big day. I should get some sleep.”
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.” She opened the tent flap and glanced over her shoulder a moment. Ravi was staring at the sky, his knees hugged loosely near his chest. She couldn’t see his face.
* * *
She had seen the entrance to the shrine from the path down below and not realized what she was looking at. It was an archway cut into the solid stone, just large enough for tall men to enter single-file. Now that she stood in front of it she could see elaborate carvings that time had not worn away; a pointed-arch eave over the door, “supported” by the appearance of a pair of fluted, capitaled columns on either side. Under this eave were carved the likenesses of a man and a woman standing within the columns, and above the arch itself the artist had simulated a pierced-stone jali screen. Above that, but still below the eave, was a parade of fantastical creatures – many of which she simply could not name from the stories. She stood studying the figures for a long time after they dismounted. The camels were free to graze while they were inside.
“Ready, Chandi?”
“Why are we leaving their packs on?”
“Just in case something goes wrong.”
“But if they run off we’ll lose everything.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“If you say so.”
“Shall we go in?” Ravi held an unlit torch in one hand as he gestured with the other. She took a deep breath before answering.
“…Yes. Let’s try this.”
Ravi led the way into a small mountain shrine, dedicated to what or who Chandi did not know. Inside the archway was a hallway only slightly larger than the outer arch and shaped identically. The walls were plain aside from a lotus motif carved at knee level. Ravi stopped to light the torch when they were about five paces in. Perhaps ten paces later they came to a carved-out overhang with a narrow doorway below it. The lotus motif grew up the sides of this doorway to meet at the figure of a many-armed man sitting in meditation in the very center of the overhang. It was as though the lotus blossoms sprouted from his feet. Chandi felt like a trespasser here, unprepared to go before the shrine of whatever sect had built this retreat. Ravi took in the carvings with little more than a glance and nodded before he ducked into the small chamber beyond and took the light with him. Chandi followed.
The room behind the overhang was oval-shaped, with a small stone table and a pair of thin, three-foot candlesticks sprouting from the floor. Ravi stood the torch in one of these. On the table was an elaborate miniature stupa, overlooked by the onyx-skinned, many-armed figure shown meditating on the back curve of the wall. There were remnants of the last candles to burn here in the form of rock-hard wax dripping down the sides of the simple sticks, and when she went to examine the stupa she saw that not only was it hollow, with every archway and window pierced through, there was a larger opening at the bottom. Inside the stupa she could just see a black smudge, as though incense were burned there as part of the practitioner’s devotions. Meditating Khubhranta seemed to look beneficently down at the place wher
e she crouched to inspect the stupa, granting his protection to the practitioner. It felt wrong not to acknowledge that, so she pressed her palms together and offered an awkward bow.
Ravi inspected the carvings on the walls around the god, who was all but buried in lotus and rose motifs. Cautiously she stepped around the table to get a closer look at those carvings as well. She heard something click into place, and a section of the carved flowers slid open to reveal a hidden passageway. Ravi looked up from the portion he was examining with a mask-like smile. She felt her stomach sink.
“Ah! There it is.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bahadur rode through the gates of Vidyavana right as they opened for the day. He thought he might know how Shahin felt when he’d arrived in Q’uungerab, now; he didn’t know how couriers did it, running through the desert alone at a moment’s notice. He wasn’t quite certain how he’d managed it. Poor Amna looked half-dead. He might not look much better, for that matter.
He had to contact Jaleh as soon as possible. She needed to know what her research was being used for immediately. Now, where would she be at this time of morning?
…Actually, the first thing I need to do is stable Amna.
I should choose a different stable. Odds are good this isn’t over yet, so the less connection I maintain the better. Except I’ll stay with Javed and Sanaz. Gita’s there. If they come looking for me and take her…
A month’s stabling at the place he found would cost nearly as much as a month’s rent, but he counted out the first week’s fee. There were more important matters to deal with, and quickly. He trotted away on foot, waving over his shoulder at the stable hand and blinking blearily. He’d had longer days before; he could sleep after he talked to Jaleh. And then probably not until after he’d explained to Javed what happened. This was becoming more and more troublesome.
If he was lucky, Jaleh would still be at the Guild hall. She had been known to work all through the night on occasion. He returned to a side-entrance Zareen had taken him in by more than once and settled in to wait for one of the Scholars to come through the door. So many Scholars kept odd hours the quips had all gone stale. Before many minutes had passed a man in the Guild robes bustled up to the door muttering under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Bahadur interrupted as politely as he could.
“Huh? Gah! Who are you, and where did you come from?” It wasn’t someone who recognized him as an aide, then.
“I’m Scholar Jaleh’s aide. Would you tell her I need to speak with her, rather urgently?”
“Humph. Figures that girl would pick a strong arm with a pretty face. I’ll be no part of your assignations!”
“Assig – Sir! What are you insinuating? I’m a married- !” Well, he had been. He stopped himself short, barely, and brought his voice back to a more reasonable tone before he continued. “Scholar, I am but recently a widower. This pertains to an aspect of her research she asked me to look into.” Jaleh could hardly be called a girl, either, but the scholar he spoke with was probably on the wrong side of eighty.
“Humph. If I see Scholar Jaleh, I will tell her you were here.” He wasn’t going to look for the woman, either, by the sound of it.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” She’ll hear of it eventually this way. Probably. The Guildhall door opened just as the older man was reaching forward with his key. On the other side, Scholar Jaleh stifled a yawn while she slipped her key back into a pouch.
“Well well well. Scholar Jaleh, do you know this man?”
“Hmm?” She blinked, looking at the two men on the other side of the door. “Yes, of course. He’s my assistant. You’re back rather early.”
“Very well, then. I will leave you to your… research.” The old scholar sniffed and turned his back on them to get back to whatever self-important matter he had been absorbed in before.
“Dirty old man.”
Bahadur couldn’t disagree.
“So. If something went wrong, you’ll be wanting to tell me about it in private. Walk with me, and we will speak as old friends.”
It was amazing, the way a scholar could find meaningless little things to speak of that had nothing to do with anything when she had to. Jaleh led him into a wealthy district of the city; it took him a moment to realize they were walking through a residential area. Was she taking him to her home? It was safe enough, probably. Whoever Scholar Aseem worked for had no reason to be suspicious of him yet – he thought – and no reason whatsoever to suspect her – that he knew of.
It was definitely a house Jaleh stopped in front of, little different from the one where he boarded save for decorative touches reminiscent of the Loremaster’s guildhall. She removed a different key from the pouch at her belt and showed him in.
The inside of Jaleh’s house displayed both wealth and elegance, neither of which fit his image of her. Her carpets were crimson woven with mandalas in gold and white, and both shelves and table were of wood burnished until it shone with its own light. Cushions of various muted colors were arranged around the table, and a stairway leading down into the lower level was visible in the back wall. The handrail appeared to be of the same burnished wood as the rest of the furniture. Jaleh moved straight for the stairway.
“We will speak in my study.”
“You have a study here?”
“Of course. We’d either go crazy or never get anything done if we only worked in the guild libraries.”
Down the stairwell they went, their way lit by filigreed bronze oil lanterns with glass chimneys.
“I had no idea you were so wealthy.”
“Work in the Phisiker’s guild pays much better than work in the Loremaster’s, I’m afraid. Most of this was my parents’, and the house was left to me when they passed.”
Jaleh’s study was somewhat less opulent – and correspondingly more comfortable – than the rest of the house. The furniture was still burnished wood, but the carpet and cushions were done in warm browns and muted yellows. She gestured for him to take one of the cushions, then sat herself on the other side of the low writing table and brought out sheets of parchment, pen and ink. An envelope caught his eye, with an address in Siahanchah.
“Now. The expedition wasn’t due back for more than another week. What was so important that you had to abandon the job?”
“First off, is Scholar Aseem a member?”
“Well yes. I believe he’s a leader, actually.”
Bahadur made himself take a deep breath. “Well. That’s a problem.” He looked Jaleh directly in the eye. “I witnessed Scholar Aseem deliberately break the seal in the ruins of Sakjhra. He was guarded by a man with orders to kill anyone who observed the proceedings. My position is compromised.”
“You witnessed… the seal being undone?”
“Scholar Aseem was building something in front of a small shrine with a model of a stupa on it. I was discovered by my acquaintance, and forced to flee before he completed the building, but as I fled the labyrinth behind the doors you described – a labyrinth they had marked their passage through, I might add – I felt a rumbling from under my feet.”
“Performing a creative act… in front of a shrine sealing away the uncontrolled creative power of Tchraja. A tremor… did anything else happen?”
“Other than my being shot at as I tried to escape? Not that I noticed. I left that same night; I’m sure Scholar Aseem could identify me on sight, and I did not wish to risk any… accidents. It didn’t exactly allow me the chance to find out if the door would still close.”
“It would have been nice to confirm, but the information you brought back is troublesome enough, I suppose… I think I have to quit the project.” The far-away look in her eyes suddenly turned fearful.
“You can’t just… stall when they ask for your results?”
“No. Even if I could, eventually they would send someone to confiscate my notes, and when they found I’d stopped work on the project I would be thrown out of the guild. It probably would
n’t even buy us much time, under the circumstances. This is cleaner. Besides, they already know we’ve spoken, and that you were on that expedition. When Aseem returns…”
“I understand.” Given what happened, once the expedition returned there would be no hiding for either of them. Bahadur scrubbed a hand back through his braids. “I’m going to have some explaining to do.” Troublesome, indeed.
* * *
To say that Sanaz was surprised to see him show up on their doorstep that morning, looking worn in the way that only hard travel can do to a man, would be an understatement.
“What happened? I thought the expedition would be gone another week yet.”
“Staying wasn’t worth my life.” He managed a half-smile for her.
“You’re not going to bring trouble down on us, now are you?”
“I don’t know.” He owed her an honest answer to that, at least. “Javed is at the Guild?”
“Yes.”
“And Gita?”
“Rehearsing. The players seem to think highly of the Chèin’ii for some reason, so they gave her a part. The show opens next week.”
“If it’s all the same to you, then, I’d like to sleep for a bit. Will you wake me when Javed comes home? I need to speak to him.”
“Very well.” She curled her lips in distaste. Now he just needed to figure out how much he should tell the man. That would be better done after he slept. Right now his head felt like it was full of sand. Bahadur half-stumbled down to where his room was tucked away and fell into a dreamless sleep.
It was impossible to tell how long he slept, down here. When he awoke he still had no clear idea how much he should tell Javed. Too much, and he really would bring trouble down on their heads. But if he told them too little and trouble came anyway they’d be unprepared. How much could he tell Javed without endangering them, or Gita?
When he stepped up into the main room, the other three were already seated about the table eating dinner. Quietly he moved to take the remaining place setting as they watched him silently.
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 32