I have a bad
feeling about this,” I told Sahra as she and Tobo and I
started the long walk. “You’re sure the shadows are all
off the streets?”
“Quit fussing, Sleepy. You’re turning into an old
woman. The streets are safe. The only monsters out here are human.
We can handle those. You’ll be safe in the Palace if you just
stick to your character. Tobo will be safe as long as he remembers
that he’s not really Shikhandini and desperate for his mother
to keep her job. It’s in the nature of men like Jaul
Barundandi that they do their bullying inside your head, not
physically. They’ll take ‘no’ for an answer. And
I won’t lose my job over it. My work is being noticed by
others. Especially by Barundandi’s wife. Now, get yourself
into character. Tobo, you too. You particularly. I know Sleepy can
do this when she concentrates on it.”
Tobo was clad as a budding young woman, Minh Subredil’s
daughter, and I hoped we could get him back inside the warehouse
unnoticed by Goblin and One-Eye, because they would ride him
mercilessly. With the investment of a little artifice on his
mother’s part, Tobo made a very attractive young woman.
Jaul Barundandi thought so, too. Minh Subredil was the first
worker called forward and Barundandi never bothered with his
customary grumble about taking Sawa as part of the package.
Sawa had trouble keeping a straight face later when we found
Barundandi’s wife Narita waiting to pick women to work for
her. One glance at Shiki was enough. Minh Subredil’s family
definitely belonged under her direct supervision.
Minh Subredil had done a good job of ingratiating herself with
Narita. For the very good reason that Narita was in charge of
cleaning those parts of the Palace of most immediate interest to
us.
Sawa had not worked for Narita in the past. Subredil explained
Sawa to Narita, who seemed more patient than she had the few times
I had seen her before. Narita said, “I understand.
There’re plenty of simple things that need doing. The Radisha
was particularly restless last night. These days when she has
trouble sleeping, she breaks things and makes messes.”
The woman actually sounded sympathetic. But the Taglian people
loved their ruling family and seemed to feel that they deserved
more room than the man on the street. Perhaps because of the
burdens they bore, always in the past with maximum respect for
Rajadharma.
Subredil maneuvered me into a spot whence I could observe well
without being noticed. She and Narita brought me several brass
treasures that needed cleaning. The ruling family had to be very
fond of brass. Sawa cleaned tons of it. But Sawa could be trusted
not to damage anything.
Shiki came to me and asked, “Will you take care of my
flute for me, Aunt Sawa?” I took the instrument, studied it
briefly, pasted on an idiot grin and tooted on the thing a few
times. Just so everybody would know it was a real flute and not
imagine that it might be a small fireball thrower, capable of
making life both brief and painful for the first half-dozen people
who got too close to a flautist in a bad temper.
Barundandi’s wife asked Shiki, “You play the
flute?”
“Yes, ma’am. But not very well.”
“I was quite a skilled player when I was a girl . . . ”
She noticed her husband peeking in for the second time this morning
and began to suspect he was interested in more than just the
progress of the day’s work. “Subredil, I don’t
think it’s wise for you to bring your daughter here.”
And a moment later, she growled, “I’ll be back in a
minute. I have to talk to that man. I have to straighten him
out.”
The moment she stepped out, Minh Subredil moved with startling
rapidity. She vanished into the Radisha’s Anger Chamber. I
had to admire her. Her mind never seemed clearer than when she was
in a dangerous position. I suspected she actually enjoyed her role
as a Palace menial. And the more dangerous the times, the more
effective she seemed.
Despite a massive workload and Narita’s frequent trips
away to sabotage her husband’s efforts to weasel in close to
Shikhandini, or to draft Shiki into a different working group, in
mid-afternoon we left the Radisha’s personal suite for the
gloomy chambers where the Privy Council assembled. There was a
rumor that the Bhodi disciples were about to send another suicidal
goof to the gateway. The Radisha wanted to forestall that
somehow.
We were supposed to get the place ready for a Council
session.
The Bhodi rumor had had its birth in the mind of Ky Sahra. It
was supposed to be the device by which we could bring Shikhandini
face-to-face with Chandra Gokhale.
We had almost two hours before the staffers appeared, the quiet
little men who wrote everything down. Then the Purohita arrived,
accompanied by the ecclesiastical members of the Privy Council. The
Purohita did not deign to note our existence even though Shiki
mistook him for Gokhale and batted her eyes till Subredil signed
her off. I could hear the excuse that would come later: All old men
looked alike.
Neither Arjuna Drupada nor Chandra Gokhale considered themselves
old.
We continued our work, ignored. The folk of the Palace,
particularly the inner circle, were lucky we had other things we
wanted to do with our lives. Had we not cared about our own
survival, we could have slaughtered scores of them. But getting rid
of the Purohita would not mean much in the grand scheme. The senior
priests would replace him with another old man just as nasty and
narrow of mind before Drupada’s bones got cold.
Chandra Gokhale came in and he did not overlook the help. Sahra
must have gleaned a few suggestions from Willow Swan about what the
old pervert liked, because he stopped dead, staring at Shikhandini
like somebody had clubbed him between the eyes. Shiki had the role
down perfectly. She was a shy virgin and a flirt at the same time,
as though her maidenly heart had been smitten instantly. God
apparently fashioned men so that they would swallow that sort of
bait ninety-nine times out of ten.
Barundandi’s timing was good. He came to move us out of
the meeting chamber just as the Protector swooped in like some
dark, angry eagle. Gokhale watched our departure with moon eyes.
Before we completed our evacuation, he was whispering to one of his
scribes.
Jaul Barundandi, unfortunately, had a sharp eye for some things.
“Minh Subredil, I believe your daughter has charmed the
Inspector-General of the Records.”
Subredil appeared surprised. “Sir? No. That can’t
be. I won’t let my child stumble into the trap that destroyed
my mother and condemned me to this cruel life.”
Sawa caught Subredil’s arm. Apparently she had become
frightened by that intense outburst, but in reality she squeezed,
warning Subredil not to say anything that Barundandi might remember
if Chandra Gokhale disappeared.
We might want to consider a change of plan. We did not want
anyone to have any reason to connect anything outside with any of
us.
Subredil’s outburst faded. She became embarrassed and
anxious to be elsewhere. “Shiki. Come on.”
I was ready to kick Shikhandini’s bottom myself. She was
being a positive slut. But she did respond to her mother’s
command.
Sawa sort of settled down out of the way with the last of her
dirty brass, in hopes of being overlooked while the Privy Council
convened, but Jaul Barundandi was alert.
“Minh Subredil. Bring your sister-in-law.” He tried
to flirt with Shikhandini. He got a look of disgust for his
trouble.
Minh Subredil got me going, then went after her daughter.
“What did you think you were doing in there?”
“I was just having fun. The man is a disgusting old
pervert.”
Softly, as though not meant for Barundandi’s ears while
the words really were, Subredil said. “Don’t ever have
fun like that again. Men like that will do whatever they like with
you and there isn’t anything anybody can do about
it.”
That warning was not all acting. The last thing we needed was
one of the mighty dragging Shikhandini into a dark corner to do a
little groping.
That was not supposed to happen. It was unthinkable, supposedly.
And for ordinary people that was mostly true. But not so at a level
where men began to believe that they existed outside the usual
rules.
“Narita!” Barundandi called. “Where have you
gotten to? That damned woman. She’s slipped off to the
kitchen again. Or she’s gone somewhere to sneak a
nap.”
I heard the Radisha behind us, in the meeting chamber, but could
not make out individual words. An angry voice responded. That had
to be Soulcatcher. I wanted to be somewhere a little farther away.
I started moving.
Sawa, of course, did things others did not always understand.
Subredil grabbed hold and started to fuss. Barundandi told her,
“Take this bunch to the kitchen, get something to eat. If
Narita is there, tell her I want her.”
The moment he was out of sight, I announced, “Sawa is
going to wander off.” Sawa was not completely happy with the
pages Subredil kept bringing Sleepy. Subredil could not read them,
worked in a rush and seemed incapable of collecting anything
interesting.
I hoped I remembered the way. Even when you wear the yarn
bracelet, the Palace is a confusing place and I had not roamed it
since the days when the Captain was the Liberator and a great hero
of the Taglian people. And even then, I had been only an occasional
visitor.
As soon as I began to feel unsure, I got out a small piece of
chalk and began to leave tiny marks in the Sangel alphabet. I had
managed to learn a little of that language during our years in the
far south but it had been a struggle. I hoped anyone who discovered
the marks would not recognize what they were.
I did find the room where the old books were hidden. It was
obvious that someone came there often. The dust was disturbed
badly, which in itself would raise questions if discovered. I tried
to drag out the book that looked the oldest. Darn, that thing was
heavy. Once I got it open, I found that the pages were real
stubborn about tearing. They were not paper at all, which never has
been very common. I could tear them only one at a time. Which maybe
explained why Subredil just grabbed whatever came easiest. She
would not have time to pick and choose.
I worried that I had been away too long myself, convinced that
Barundandi or his wife must have noticed that I was missing. I
hoped it did not occur to them to wonder why Subredil was not
making a scene because she had lost track of me.
Even so, I continued to tear pages until I had all I thought the
three of us could carry away.
I hid everything in an unused room not far from the service
postern, uncertain how we would recover it heading out, then took
myself way down inside Sawa, almost to the point of incapacitating
confusion.
They found me dirty and tearstained and still trying to find the
way back to the meeting chamber, “they” being some of
the other day workers. In moments I was reunited with Subredil and
Shikhandini. I clung to my sister-in-law like a wood chip desperate
to shed the embrace of a rushing flood.
Jaul Barundandi was not happy. “Minh Subredil, I accepted
this woman here for your sake, out of kindness and charity. But
lapses of this sort are not acceptable. No work got done while we
were searching . . . ” His voice trailed
off. The Radisha and the Protector were headed our way, following a
most unusual route. This was backstairs country. Which meant
nothing whatsoever to Soulcatcher, of course. That woman had no
sense of class or caste. There was the Protector and beneath the
Protector there was everyone else.
Sawa just sort of folded up and squatted with her face in her
lap. Subredil and Shikhandini and Jaul Barundandi partially tried
to get out of the way, partially gawked. Shiki had not seen either
woman before.
Sawa crossed her fingers out of sight in her lap. Subredil
whispered prayers to Ghanghesha. Jaul Barundandi shivered in
terror. Shikhandini stared with a teen’s inability to feel
appropriate fear.
The Radisha paid us no heed. She stamped past talking about
ripping the guts out of Bhodi disciples. Her voice contained almost
no emotional conviction. The Protector, though, slowed down and
considered us all intently. For an instant I found myself almost
overcome by the dread that she really could read minds. Then she
went on and Jaul Barundandi ran along behind, forgetting us and
Narita both because the Radisha barked some command back his
way.
Sawa rose and whimpered, “I want to go home.”
Subredil agreed that it was enough of a day.
Neither the Greys nor the Royal Guards were searching anyone. A
good thing, too. I carried so much paper in my small clothes I
could fake a normal walk for only a few dozen yards.
I have a bad
feeling about this,” I told Sahra as she and Tobo and I
started the long walk. “You’re sure the shadows are all
off the streets?”
“Quit fussing, Sleepy. You’re turning into an old
woman. The streets are safe. The only monsters out here are human.
We can handle those. You’ll be safe in the Palace if you just
stick to your character. Tobo will be safe as long as he remembers
that he’s not really Shikhandini and desperate for his mother
to keep her job. It’s in the nature of men like Jaul
Barundandi that they do their bullying inside your head, not
physically. They’ll take ‘no’ for an answer. And
I won’t lose my job over it. My work is being noticed by
others. Especially by Barundandi’s wife. Now, get yourself
into character. Tobo, you too. You particularly. I know Sleepy can
do this when she concentrates on it.”
Tobo was clad as a budding young woman, Minh Subredil’s
daughter, and I hoped we could get him back inside the warehouse
unnoticed by Goblin and One-Eye, because they would ride him
mercilessly. With the investment of a little artifice on his
mother’s part, Tobo made a very attractive young woman.
Jaul Barundandi thought so, too. Minh Subredil was the first
worker called forward and Barundandi never bothered with his
customary grumble about taking Sawa as part of the package.
Sawa had trouble keeping a straight face later when we found
Barundandi’s wife Narita waiting to pick women to work for
her. One glance at Shiki was enough. Minh Subredil’s family
definitely belonged under her direct supervision.
Minh Subredil had done a good job of ingratiating herself with
Narita. For the very good reason that Narita was in charge of
cleaning those parts of the Palace of most immediate interest to
us.
Sawa had not worked for Narita in the past. Subredil explained
Sawa to Narita, who seemed more patient than she had the few times
I had seen her before. Narita said, “I understand.
There’re plenty of simple things that need doing. The Radisha
was particularly restless last night. These days when she has
trouble sleeping, she breaks things and makes messes.”
The woman actually sounded sympathetic. But the Taglian people
loved their ruling family and seemed to feel that they deserved
more room than the man on the street. Perhaps because of the
burdens they bore, always in the past with maximum respect for
Rajadharma.
Subredil maneuvered me into a spot whence I could observe well
without being noticed. She and Narita brought me several brass
treasures that needed cleaning. The ruling family had to be very
fond of brass. Sawa cleaned tons of it. But Sawa could be trusted
not to damage anything.
Shiki came to me and asked, “Will you take care of my
flute for me, Aunt Sawa?” I took the instrument, studied it
briefly, pasted on an idiot grin and tooted on the thing a few
times. Just so everybody would know it was a real flute and not
imagine that it might be a small fireball thrower, capable of
making life both brief and painful for the first half-dozen people
who got too close to a flautist in a bad temper.
Barundandi’s wife asked Shiki, “You play the
flute?”
“Yes, ma’am. But not very well.”
“I was quite a skilled player when I was a girl . . . ”
She noticed her husband peeking in for the second time this morning
and began to suspect he was interested in more than just the
progress of the day’s work. “Subredil, I don’t
think it’s wise for you to bring your daughter here.”
And a moment later, she growled, “I’ll be back in a
minute. I have to talk to that man. I have to straighten him
out.”
The moment she stepped out, Minh Subredil moved with startling
rapidity. She vanished into the Radisha’s Anger Chamber. I
had to admire her. Her mind never seemed clearer than when she was
in a dangerous position. I suspected she actually enjoyed her role
as a Palace menial. And the more dangerous the times, the more
effective she seemed.
Despite a massive workload and Narita’s frequent trips
away to sabotage her husband’s efforts to weasel in close to
Shikhandini, or to draft Shiki into a different working group, in
mid-afternoon we left the Radisha’s personal suite for the
gloomy chambers where the Privy Council assembled. There was a
rumor that the Bhodi disciples were about to send another suicidal
goof to the gateway. The Radisha wanted to forestall that
somehow.
We were supposed to get the place ready for a Council
session.
The Bhodi rumor had had its birth in the mind of Ky Sahra. It
was supposed to be the device by which we could bring Shikhandini
face-to-face with Chandra Gokhale.
We had almost two hours before the staffers appeared, the quiet
little men who wrote everything down. Then the Purohita arrived,
accompanied by the ecclesiastical members of the Privy Council. The
Purohita did not deign to note our existence even though Shiki
mistook him for Gokhale and batted her eyes till Subredil signed
her off. I could hear the excuse that would come later: All old men
looked alike.
Neither Arjuna Drupada nor Chandra Gokhale considered themselves
old.
We continued our work, ignored. The folk of the Palace,
particularly the inner circle, were lucky we had other things we
wanted to do with our lives. Had we not cared about our own
survival, we could have slaughtered scores of them. But getting rid
of the Purohita would not mean much in the grand scheme. The senior
priests would replace him with another old man just as nasty and
narrow of mind before Drupada’s bones got cold.
Chandra Gokhale came in and he did not overlook the help. Sahra
must have gleaned a few suggestions from Willow Swan about what the
old pervert liked, because he stopped dead, staring at Shikhandini
like somebody had clubbed him between the eyes. Shiki had the role
down perfectly. She was a shy virgin and a flirt at the same time,
as though her maidenly heart had been smitten instantly. God
apparently fashioned men so that they would swallow that sort of
bait ninety-nine times out of ten.
Barundandi’s timing was good. He came to move us out of
the meeting chamber just as the Protector swooped in like some
dark, angry eagle. Gokhale watched our departure with moon eyes.
Before we completed our evacuation, he was whispering to one of his
scribes.
Jaul Barundandi, unfortunately, had a sharp eye for some things.
“Minh Subredil, I believe your daughter has charmed the
Inspector-General of the Records.”
Subredil appeared surprised. “Sir? No. That can’t
be. I won’t let my child stumble into the trap that destroyed
my mother and condemned me to this cruel life.”
Sawa caught Subredil’s arm. Apparently she had become
frightened by that intense outburst, but in reality she squeezed,
warning Subredil not to say anything that Barundandi might remember
if Chandra Gokhale disappeared.
We might want to consider a change of plan. We did not want
anyone to have any reason to connect anything outside with any of
us.
Subredil’s outburst faded. She became embarrassed and
anxious to be elsewhere. “Shiki. Come on.”
I was ready to kick Shikhandini’s bottom myself. She was
being a positive slut. But she did respond to her mother’s
command.
Sawa sort of settled down out of the way with the last of her
dirty brass, in hopes of being overlooked while the Privy Council
convened, but Jaul Barundandi was alert.
“Minh Subredil. Bring your sister-in-law.” He tried
to flirt with Shikhandini. He got a look of disgust for his
trouble.
Minh Subredil got me going, then went after her daughter.
“What did you think you were doing in there?”
“I was just having fun. The man is a disgusting old
pervert.”
Softly, as though not meant for Barundandi’s ears while
the words really were, Subredil said. “Don’t ever have
fun like that again. Men like that will do whatever they like with
you and there isn’t anything anybody can do about
it.”
That warning was not all acting. The last thing we needed was
one of the mighty dragging Shikhandini into a dark corner to do a
little groping.
That was not supposed to happen. It was unthinkable, supposedly.
And for ordinary people that was mostly true. But not so at a level
where men began to believe that they existed outside the usual
rules.
“Narita!” Barundandi called. “Where have you
gotten to? That damned woman. She’s slipped off to the
kitchen again. Or she’s gone somewhere to sneak a
nap.”
I heard the Radisha behind us, in the meeting chamber, but could
not make out individual words. An angry voice responded. That had
to be Soulcatcher. I wanted to be somewhere a little farther away.
I started moving.
Sawa, of course, did things others did not always understand.
Subredil grabbed hold and started to fuss. Barundandi told her,
“Take this bunch to the kitchen, get something to eat. If
Narita is there, tell her I want her.”
The moment he was out of sight, I announced, “Sawa is
going to wander off.” Sawa was not completely happy with the
pages Subredil kept bringing Sleepy. Subredil could not read them,
worked in a rush and seemed incapable of collecting anything
interesting.
I hoped I remembered the way. Even when you wear the yarn
bracelet, the Palace is a confusing place and I had not roamed it
since the days when the Captain was the Liberator and a great hero
of the Taglian people. And even then, I had been only an occasional
visitor.
As soon as I began to feel unsure, I got out a small piece of
chalk and began to leave tiny marks in the Sangel alphabet. I had
managed to learn a little of that language during our years in the
far south but it had been a struggle. I hoped anyone who discovered
the marks would not recognize what they were.
I did find the room where the old books were hidden. It was
obvious that someone came there often. The dust was disturbed
badly, which in itself would raise questions if discovered. I tried
to drag out the book that looked the oldest. Darn, that thing was
heavy. Once I got it open, I found that the pages were real
stubborn about tearing. They were not paper at all, which never has
been very common. I could tear them only one at a time. Which maybe
explained why Subredil just grabbed whatever came easiest. She
would not have time to pick and choose.
I worried that I had been away too long myself, convinced that
Barundandi or his wife must have noticed that I was missing. I
hoped it did not occur to them to wonder why Subredil was not
making a scene because she had lost track of me.
Even so, I continued to tear pages until I had all I thought the
three of us could carry away.
I hid everything in an unused room not far from the service
postern, uncertain how we would recover it heading out, then took
myself way down inside Sawa, almost to the point of incapacitating
confusion.
They found me dirty and tearstained and still trying to find the
way back to the meeting chamber, “they” being some of
the other day workers. In moments I was reunited with Subredil and
Shikhandini. I clung to my sister-in-law like a wood chip desperate
to shed the embrace of a rushing flood.
Jaul Barundandi was not happy. “Minh Subredil, I accepted
this woman here for your sake, out of kindness and charity. But
lapses of this sort are not acceptable. No work got done while we
were searching . . . ” His voice trailed
off. The Radisha and the Protector were headed our way, following a
most unusual route. This was backstairs country. Which meant
nothing whatsoever to Soulcatcher, of course. That woman had no
sense of class or caste. There was the Protector and beneath the
Protector there was everyone else.
Sawa just sort of folded up and squatted with her face in her
lap. Subredil and Shikhandini and Jaul Barundandi partially tried
to get out of the way, partially gawked. Shiki had not seen either
woman before.
Sawa crossed her fingers out of sight in her lap. Subredil
whispered prayers to Ghanghesha. Jaul Barundandi shivered in
terror. Shikhandini stared with a teen’s inability to feel
appropriate fear.
The Radisha paid us no heed. She stamped past talking about
ripping the guts out of Bhodi disciples. Her voice contained almost
no emotional conviction. The Protector, though, slowed down and
considered us all intently. For an instant I found myself almost
overcome by the dread that she really could read minds. Then she
went on and Jaul Barundandi ran along behind, forgetting us and
Narita both because the Radisha barked some command back his
way.
Sawa rose and whimpered, “I want to go home.”
Subredil agreed that it was enough of a day.
Neither the Greys nor the Royal Guards were searching anyone. A
good thing, too. I carried so much paper in my small clothes I
could fake a normal walk for only a few dozen yards.