Stripping off his dirty clothes, he went to his shelves to select clean ones.
He remembered going to the party, and he remembered drinking gold dust at the high table. There’d been some talk about gold dust being an aphrodisiac. He took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. After putting in his time at the high table, he’d left and sat by himself on a quiet bench. Some woman had come and talked with him. He could remember nothing after that.
But that was the trouble. He had not been thoroughly plowed with drink; he ought to remember. Something was wrong if he didn’t. He was beginning to suspect there had been something mixed in with that gold dust. Something more powerful than alcohol.
He ran a comb through his hair.
She’d been in his bed. Why? What had they done? He could easily imagine himself sleeping with Taya if she had been willing. But she hated him. Even if she had for some reason come to his bed, it seemed unlikely that they’d have taken their clothes off, coupled, and then put their clothes back on before falling asleep. Something had probably happened in his bed. Kissing, perhaps? Touching? But Taya had never wanted to kiss or touch him before. If the gold dust had caused them to lose their heads last night and do something they otherwise wouldn’t have, Taya was likely to be furious.
He picked up his straight razor, but his hands shook too much for shaving. He set it back down. Perhaps he should talk to Taya now rather than later; then he could stop his mind from running around in circles. He wasn’t groomed, but at least he was dressed.
He left the guesthouse through the courtyard door and crossed over to Taya’s house. He knocked gently on the door. “Taya.”
There was no answer.
He knocked a little louder. “Taya. We need to talk.”
“Go back to Rakigari,” she called through the door.
Mandir frowned. This was a bad beginning. Ignoring her command, he opened the door. As he began to push it open, he felt resistance—she’d anticipated him and was trying to force the door closed. But in a contest of raw strength, Taya had no chance. He overpowered her and shoved it open.
Taya backed away. “If you come one step closer to me, I’ll burn you to death. I swear on Isatis’s name!”
Mandir stood still just inside the door. Taya looked a mess. She hadn’t changed clothes, and her hair had lost its headdress. He found himself less affected by her anger than by the sight of her unhappiness. “I want to talk. I don’t know what happened.”
“What happened? You drugged me, that’s what happened!”
Mandir blinked. Had he? No, surely not—drugging a woman required premeditation. He had not planned any such thing, and certainly he had not done it. But someone else might have. “Taya, I did nothing of the sort.”
“Gold dust is not an aphrodisiac—so you told me.” She spat the words at him. “Why did I trust you?”
He swallowed. “Let me get you something. Water? Clean clothes?”
“Go back to Rakigari,” said Taya. “You got what you wanted. Now leave.”
“I’m your quradum. I can’t leave.” His heart thudded a rapid, uneven rhythm against his chest. What did she mean by, you got what you wanted? He didn’t remember anything about last night. Maybe she did.
“I’m ordering you to leave,” said Taya. “I don’t need your protection. The only person in Hrappa I need protection from is you.”
“If I hurt you somehow, I want to know what I did.”
“You planned it, Mandir.”
Mandir found a chair and sat, figuring he would appear less threatening if he didn’t tower over her. No matter how plowed he had been last night, no matter how drugged, if that was what had happened, he couldn’t have forced himself on her. It wasn’t possible. Her command of fire was stronger than his; she would have burned him to a cinder. If he wanted to rape her, he’d have to dose her with kimat first. Kimat lasted from sunup to sunup, or sundown to sundown. If she’d been dosed with it last night, it should still be in effect right now.
“Does your magic work this morning?” he asked.
She eyed him warily. Then she flipped her hand palm up and called a tiny fireball above it.
Mandir sagged with relief. He could not have forced her physically, and given that they’d awakened with their clothes still on, he doubted much of anything had happened. “You think you were drugged last night? I think I was too.”
Taya gave him a contemptuous stare. “I cannot believe your shamelessness.”
“Even if I wanted to force myself on you, I couldn’t,” said Mandir. “Your magic is stronger than mine.”
“Which is why you drugged me.”
“I swear on the Mothers’ names, I did not. Help me reconstruct the evening, because there’s something wrong with my memory of last night. I remember almost nothing after leaving the high table.”
Hatred shone in her eyes. “That’s awfully convenient.”
“It’s not at all convenient,” he snapped, “when I’m trying to defend myself.”
“You encouraged me to drink that gold dust, and you knew what it did,” said Taya. “Then you took advantage.”
“No.” Mandir shook his head emphatically. “Gold dust doesn’t do those things. It’s not an aphrodisiac, and it doesn’t cause...mind blanking.”
Two lines appeared in the middle of her forehead, and he knew he’d managed to plant some doubt. If they’d both been drugged, and he suspected they had, she would have suffered the same memory loss that he had. That meant she didn’t remember much of last night either.
“I don’t think we slept together,” he said, “We never took our clothes off.”
“How do you know what did or didn’t happen?”
“I don’t!” he said. “Do you remember?”
“Get out,” she snapped. “You’ve had your fun at my expense. Now leave.”
“None of this has been fun—”
“Get out!”
Mandir turned and left the guesthouse.
Chapter XXVIII
Hrappa
TAYA GAVE A SHAKY SIGH. He was gone—finally. She had no memory of what had happened last night, beyond drinking gold dust and then meeting someone. But it was clear that she’d ended up in Mandir’s bed somehow. Had they slept together? She assumed they had. That was what usually happened when people shared a bed. But it was true that they’d awakened with their clothes on.
Her only point of pride about her history with Mandir at Mohenjo Temple was that she’d never slept with him. She’d always stood her ground and refused. Had he won at last, by drugging her and sleeping with her when she was senseless? Maybe he’d put her clothes back on afterward, and his own, to conceal his crime. But that didn’t make a lot of sense. If he’d gone so far as to put her dress back on, wouldn’t he have also returned her to her own bed and eliminated suspicion entirely?
Now she was just confused.
Earlier, she’d pored over her body and smallclothes, checking for blood. Shouldn’t there be blood? She had no experience with sex. Shouldn’t she also be sore this morning, if they’d coupled last night? She wasn’t. The only part of her that was sore was her head.
She poured herself another goblet of water. Her tongue was swollen, and her mouth felt like cotton. Was that a side effect of gold dust? She wished there was someone she could ask. Someone she trusted.
There was not a single person in Hrappa she trusted.
“Taya.”
She jumped at the sudden voice and turned to see Mandir framed in her courtyard window. Anger boiled up through her pores. “I told you to leave.”
“Please,” he said. “I think this is important. Last night, do you remember any strange feelings?”
“I remember almost nothing, thanks to the gold dust you encouraged me to drink.”
“I didn’t encourage you,” he said. “You don’t remember, perhaps, sounds echoing in your head?”
She had opened her mouth to order him away again, but now she closed it. In fact, she did remem
ber something like that. Of course, if Mandir knew about it, that was simply more evidence that he knew the true effects of gold dust.
His eyes lit with interest. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“There was an echoing effect.”
“I experienced it too.”
“Of course you did. You drank the gold dust as well.” She had to wonder, though, why so many people at the party had willingly drunk gold dust, knowing it would produce that echoing effect and cause them to lose all memory of the rest of the evening. She couldn’t imagine doing that voluntarily. But then, these were ruling-caste people. Maybe they liked it.
“It wasn’t gold dust we were drugged with,” said Mandir, “but Echo.”
“Echo?” She’d heard of Echo, a distillation of leaves that some people in the cities liked to drink. It was said to be unhealthy, and it wasn’t used in the rural village where she’d grown up. “How do you know?”
“The symptoms match,” he said. “Loss of self-control, echoing of sounds in the head, memory loss. Someone drugged you with Echo, and that person drugged me too.”
He could be making this up, for all she knew, but Echo seemed a more plausible explanation than gold dust. Still, how did she know Mandir hadn’t been the one to slip her the drug? It made no sense that a third party would have done it. Why would a third party want her to go to bed with her partner? Mandir’s theory was ridiculous. “It may have been Echo. But you were the one who dosed me with it.”
Mandir shook his head. “For most of the evening, I wasn’t even near you. I realize I can’t prove it to you, but I swear I didn’t do it. And that means somebody else did. The obvious suspect is the jackal or someone working with her.”
“The jackal has nothing to gain from drugging me.”
“We don’t know that. Help me, Taya. Reconstruct the evening with me—maybe we can figure something out. Do you remember leaving the high table?”
Taya hesitated. She didn’t like cooperating with him, but there was just enough about the incident that didn’t make sense to make her curious. “Yes.”
“And did you still feel normal then?”
“More or less. I was tipsy.”
“Did you eat or drink anything after leaving the high table?”
Taya shrugged. “A little more wine. Food from the trays.”
“Did anyone give you anything to eat or drink?”
“No,” said Taya.
“I’ll tell you what little I know,” said Mandir. “After I left the high table, I went and sat by myself. I drank some wine and ate some food, and a woman came and sat beside me.”
“What woman?” asked Taya.
“I don’t know her name,” said Mandir. “We talked for a while. She flirted, but I wasn’t interested, and it didn’t go anywhere. Then...”
“Then what?”
Mandir shook his head. “I don’t remember. You?”
“I left the high table,” said Taya. “I wandered through the crowd, searching for the witness or the jackal. I started to feel...”
Mandir looked up. “Feel what?”
Taya’s brow furrowed. “The noise from the party irritated me. Words were echoing in my head. Then I ran into someone I knew—someone unexpected. I was happy to see him. Needleflies, I can’t remember who it was.”
“Zash.”
“Yes! That’s who it was. I sat with him and...talked or something.”
“You kissed him,” said Mandir.
“I did?”
“I think I yanked him off you. I remember that now.” He swallowed. “I think we might have kissed at the party—I’m not sure. And you must have come home with me. But given that we kept our clothes on, I don’t think anything else happened. The Echo probably just put us to sleep.”
Taya felt moderately certain now, based on the clothes and her lack of soreness, that they hadn’t coupled. But they’d certainly slept in the same bed, and if they’d kissed...well, that wasn’t as bad, but it still bothered her. She might have been willing at the time, owing to a certain amount of animal attraction, but only because of the drug she’d been given, which had robbed her of the ability to think clearly. Her body, foolish as it was, had always responded to Mandir. It was her mind that overrode those desires, when it was working properly.
Mandir was the only person in Hrappa with a reason to drug her. “It was you,” she said coldly. “You drugged me with Echo. And I’ll see you burn for it.”
“I’m sorry that it happened,” said Mandir. “But I was drugged too. And I wasn’t the one who gave you the drug.”
“Get out of my window. You’re spoiling the view.”
“I’ll go,” he said. “But think on what I’ve said.”
Taya would rather go for another swim with vicious river dolphins than think any longer about Mandir. To her relief, he disappeared from her window.
Now what should she do? What was done was done; she couldn’t undo it. And she had a jackal to find. The party had yielded nothing, so what should she do next? Speak with more of the farmer families involved in the court cases, perhaps. But those families wouldn’t be available until evening. In the meantime, she could visit the public baths. That thought appealed. She could wash away the smells of the party and of Mandir. As for breakfast, she’d skip it. After last night and this disastrous morning, her stomach was a rumbling, churning disaster.
She went to the shelves to fetch clean clothes from the saddlebag. But as she reached for the bag, her hand paused in the air. Her saddlebags weren’t sitting exactly where they had been before. Had someone gone through her things? Mandir, perhaps?
She pulled the first saddlebag nearer and rifled through it. Right away, she saw what was missing: her mission tablets. All of them. There was not a single clay tablet left in the bags. Who could have taken them? Mandir had no reason to do that.
Maybe she’d taken the tablets out herself and left them somewhere. Mothers knew she was not always organized. She made a frantic tour of her guesthouse, searching the likely places, including the table where she normally did her work, and then the unlikely places. No tablets.
Had Mandir moved them to his own guesthouse for safekeeping? That was possible, but it didn’t seem likely.
She tore open the nearest saddlebag again. Nothing else seemed to be missing. Her clothes were there, her powders, her medicines. She had not been indiscriminately robbed. But that in itself was frightening. Whoever had taken her tablets had come for them specifically.
She opened the second saddlebag. Nothing obvious missing—everything seemed to be in order. She unbuttoned the center-left pocket, where she kept her ceramic bottle of kimat. That pocket was empty.
“Mandir!” she cried. She’d chased him away, but he would not have gone far. Surely he was just at his own guesthouse. She ran for the door, only to jump back as the door slammed open.
Mandir rushed wild-eyed into the room.
“Someone stole my kimat and all the mission tablets.”
Mandir’s jaw tightened. “Show me.”
Taya led him to the shelves with the saddlebags, and demonstrated the telltale evidence.
“Were the tablets and kimat here last night?”
“How would I know?”
“Before we left for the party,” he amended.
“The tablets were here yesterday afternoon,” said Taya. “I don’t know about the kimat. I haven’t checked on it in a while.”
“Let’s see if I still have mine,” said Mandir.
She trailed after him across the courtyard and stepped into his guesthouse. She could not help but glance at the bed where she’d spent the night. Her stomach lurched. But he didn’t pause there; he went directly to his shelves and opened up a saddlebag much like hers, except black in color. He unlaced a pocket and drew out a ceramic bottle.
“Here,” he said, showing it to her.
“So.” Taya blew out her breath in a sigh. “My place was robbed, but not yours.”
“Because mi
ne was occupied and yours wasn’t. Do you believe me now that we were both drugged?”
“I’m not sure what to believe,” said Taya. But the loss of the tablets badly jeopardized their murder investigation, and surely Mandir cared as much about the success of his first-ever Coalition mission as she did. She could hardly believe he’d sabotage his own prospects just to torment her. Mandir never did anything that didn’t in some way serve his personal interest.
“Look, I didn’t drug you last night,” said Mandir. “But I realize I played a part in what happened. I must have taken you back to my room, and for that I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
Taya considered. If they had both been drugged, he wasn’t culpable. If that was the situation, then they had both lost their heads under the influence of the drug. The fault lay with whoever had drugged them. She nodded. “For this incident, I forgive you. But don’t ever touch me again.”
When Taya expressed a desire to visit the public baths, Mandir agreed to accompany her. He couldn’t argue with the need for a visit, since the party smells lingered on both of them—incense, wine, smoke from the torches. But he had a feeling that wasn’t why she was going. She wanted to wash away the smell of him.
He was certain nothing of consequence had happened between them last night, aside from a little foreplay that seemed to have gone nowhere. But it was hard to watch her virulent reaction to even the thought of kissing him, when he had dreamed about kissing her—and sleeping with her—for years. In his fantasies, he’d imagined her wildly enthusiastic as he brought her to the heights of pleasure again and again. She would fall asleep in his arms, sated and content. He knew they were only fantasies, and that the reality of sex could be more pedestrian. But it was not part of his fantasy that she should be horrified at having touched him.
Rasik brought their horses around to the front of the guesthouse and gave them a smirk. “Surprised you two are up already, after last night.”
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 201