Laldasa (8 page)

“Half-open please, Naru,” Mina told him. “We will have iced nectar to refresh ourselves before the meal.”

The man bowed and smiled, not insincerely, Anala decided. There was legitimate pleasure in his handsome face. Mina Sarojin was evidently a favorite patron.

“What do you think, Ana?” she asked when the server had disappeared to bring their drinks.

Anala's eyes made a thorough assessment—the splendid box, the view of the beautifully laid-out restaurant with its fountains and greenery and statuary. What she had once taken as luxurious surroundings—the channara of the Hotel Gaesa in Raratok—seemed colorless in comparison. “It's beautiful,” she said.

Mina quirked a silvery brow at her. “And extravagant?”

“The soul has as much need for beauty as the body does for food. What could be better than to feed both at the same time?”

“Well put. And,”—Mina glanced over the carved balustrade— “one can also feed one's curiosity. Most of the crowns of Kasi society have boxes or booths or standing reservations at the Kiritan. Not to mention some from Nawahr and even Vatapur. From here, I can see much. Ah ... Namun!”

Ana followed Mina Sarojin's eyes as she sent a cheerful wave to someone below. A tall, slender gentleman with finely cut features and streaks of silver in his dark hair had just entered the main dining area from a side room and glanced up, smiling broadly in return. His somewhat mismatched clothing looked as if it had been an after-thought—careless enough that he looked as out-of-place as Ana felt. Mina beckoned to him and he began to move toward their balcony.

“Namun Vedda,” Jivinta Mina explained. The twinkle of her eyes told Anala that here was another of her favorites. “Jaya's godfather. A delightful man. Very erudite. He once taught at the college here in Kasi, but he has left academic life to devote himself to research.”

“Research?” repeated Anala. “He's a scientist?”

“Yes. He owns his own company, too. A company my son helped him start. They were like brothers. When Bhaktasu was killed, I think Namun nearly died with him. He's unmarried.” She gave Ana a sly glance out of the tail of her eye. “Quite a catch for some intelligent and engaging woman. Oh-!”

The disappointment in Jivinta Mina's face caused Anala to drop her gaze back to the floor below. Vedda-sama had been waylaid by another man—a handsome, impeccably dressed fellow with quick mannerisms and an air of great intensity. They were a study in contrasts; this newcomer was gesturing emphatically with his hands—Veddasama had stuffed his into the large pockets of his tunic. It was clear that this other demanded his attention and just as clear that he was much annoyed at the demand.

In the end, he waved his regrets to the Rani Mina and returned with his companion to the room he'd only just left.

Mina's expression was one of barely veiled disdain. She made a clucking noise and shook her head.

“You don't care much for Vedda-sama's friend,” Anala guessed.

“An understatement. I despise him. He is my bond-daughter's current ... companion. I had thought better of her than that. I had, in fact, hoped she and Namun ... ” She shrugged eloquently and let the subject drop.

“I see our drinks hurrying this way,” observed Anala. “Should we order?”

In the end, the alieness of the dishes convinced Anala to have Mina order for her. It sounded like more than she could possibly eat, but Mina assured her that between the cook and the server, they would receive amounts proportioned to their respective appetites.

“A good server,” said Mina, “is a master at knowing his patrons' preferences and appetites. This first time he serves you he has only your size, age and gender to go on, but as you return, he will note which are your favorite dishes and in what proportion.”

“Is he das?” asked Ana.

“Naru? Oh, no.” Jivinta Mina seemed almost scandalized at the thought. “The service people at the Kiritan are free—every one. Highly educated in the culinary arts as well as the spiritual disciplines. Giving pleasure is an art, Ana. But of course, your discipline as Rohin has taught you that.”

Anala discovered that one could, indeed, blush to the roots of one's hair. “My bhakti is of the simplest kind, Jivinta,” she said. “I observe devotion to Sanatji, the pursuance of the Intellectual Arts. My knowledge of the Pleasure Arts is-“

“Ana,” interrupted the old woman, almost reproachfully, “I was not implying something about you I know is not true. I am aware that there are those who call themselves Rohin and are little more than glorified cunnidasa. I am also aware that you are not one of them. There is much of that on Mehtar,” she said thoughtfully, “but perhaps the Path is clearer on Avasa.”

“The Path is becoming unclear there, too. In the cities—even in a place as small and out-of-the-way as Onan—I've met bhakta who make a devotion of giving pleasure to male pilgrims in the Asra. The men joke and call it Josha—the Path of Satisfaction.” She looked away from Mina's sharp gaze to the arcade below. Delicate sounds mingled with delicate perfumes rose upward to their aerie.

“Don't concern yourself with them. Only your bhakti, Ana, concerns you. Not theirs ...
 
What's wrong, child?”

Anala barely heard the question. Her entire attention was on a familiar face in the room below. Where had she seen that face, and why did it matter? His clothes didn't seem right ...
 

She nearly jumped out of her chair. “That man, Jivinta!” She pointed. “The one just crossing the room—no, he's stopped again, near that small fountain.”

“I've never seen him before. What about him bothers you?”

“That's one of the thieves who stole my father's money.”

Mina didn't ask if she was certain. Instead, she turned raptor eyes on the man as if to memorize him. “Shall we pursue him?” she asked. “Have him stopped?”

“On what charge, Jivinta? How can I stop him without revealing myself? Besides, who would believe that a man of such obvious means would steal money from someone like me?”

“What is he doing here, I wonder?”

“Could we find out?”

Mina smiled and rang the service bell.

Naru appeared almost immediately with a platter of breads, a slight frown in his eyes. “There is something wrong, Rani?”

“Not a thing, Naru,” Mina told him. “Your service is exemplary, as always. But I've seen someone I know I should recognize, but cannot match with a name. One of my grandson's many friends. Is he still there, Ana, dear?”

“Just leaving, Jivinta.” Ana's voice betrayed none of her desperation.

Naru took the cue and moved to stand behind Mina's chair, his eyes on the premiere floor.

“There,” said Mina, “just passing the first table.”

Naru squinted, frowned and shook his head. “I've seen him before, but I know nothing about him.”

“He came out of that doorway over there.” Ana pointed to an elegantly decorated portal of only slightly less grandeur than the one they'd entered to reach the Sarojin box.

“He might be acquainted with someone who has a box in that section. Then again, he might just be a general patron.”

Anala sighed in frustration. Fate had granted her a gift and she had failed to accept it.

Naru's face brightened. “I could give him a message, if I should see him again.”

“Oh, no,” said Mina, “that would never do. Then I should have to make the embarrassing admission that I've forgotten his name.”

“Well then, I shall ask the other servers if they know him.”

“If you would be so kind. If I'm going to put the man on my invitation list, I must have his name.” Mina smiled engagingly and Naru bowed his way back to the serving cart, clearly pleased to assist her.

The meal was wonderful and Anala managed to lose herself in enjoyment of it, though Naru didn't discover anything about the Nathu Rai Sarojin's mysterious “friend.” He promised continued attention to the matter as he escorted them to the Sarojin carriage.

“I will find out this man, Rani Sarojin,” he vowed. “You shall have him at your next dinner, I promise you.”

“Yes, as the main course,” murmured Mina.

Naru laughed and bowed as the carriage pulled away from the Kiritan's front curbing.

Jaya Sarojin shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to concentrate on the petition being read by the Kasi-Nawahr legal representative. Legalese always numbed him; he made an effort to focus on its intent. The KNC document was purposefully obscure, but he caught the intent easily. If it was accepted, the Avasan Guild would be obliterated and its miners reduced to virtual slavery.

In obscure manner, it set strict percentages on the amount of ore Avasan mines must sell to the Consortium and gave the Consortium firstrefusal on all output. In convoluted language, it barred Avasans from selling their ores directly to KNC customers, from setting up their own refineries and even from shipping their freight on any but Kasi-Nawahr vessels. There was, of course, a perfectly good rationale for each provision. The KNC was merely protecting the interests of its customers and the economy of Mehtar.

Jaya scanned the faces of his fellow Varmana and wondered how many of them understood what was couched so carefully among the twisted clauses. It was clear the Deva Radha did. The pensive disapproval on her dark face as she accepted a copy of the document from KNC Speaker Duran Prakash was eloquent; her fingers seemed to disdain the touch of the light-tablet as he placed it in her hand.

“We will, of course, thoroughly review this document at length before coming to any decision regarding its merit.” She handed the tablet to one of the Vrinda Varma's couriers to have it downloaded to the Council data system, then faced Prakash. “Have you anything further to add to this reading?”

The man smiled, teeth glistening as if oiled, and Jaya tried not to imagine his mother kissing him.

“Only to comment, Deva, that the Consortium is confident your decision will not allow the forces of anarchy to rob Mehtar of its greatest resource.”

“Whether this petition is granted or not,” said the Deva, “we will certainly not allow the forces of anarchy to rob Mehtar of anything.”

Jaya's mouth twitched. Deva Radha had a delightful way with words ... and eyes. Just now she had locked hers with Prakash's and held him standing before her dais like a stick doll on a string.

Finally, she released him to glance at her notes. “You may return to your quarter.” She looked to the AGIM box on the left end of the semi-circular room. “We will now hear the presentation of the Avasan Guild of Independent Miners.”

The AGIM representative rose and strode to the central witness box.

“Pritam-sama.” The Deva acknowledged him. “We expected Rokh Nadim to speak on behalf of the Guild. Where is he?”

The room was silent but for the shuffling of feet and paper, and Taffik Pritam used that silence to dramatic advantage. Mounting the docket, he scanned the curving chamber, his eyes striking the faces of the Varmana like a pale blast of winter wind. He made a full circle with those freezing eyes, the bells at the hem of his prayer sash singing in a soft, holy whisper.

The windroughened face turned at last to the KNC quarter. His arm rose with the sudden thrust of an accusing finger directly at Duran Prakash and the Vice-director of the Kasi-Nawhar board, Ranjan Vrksa. The tiny bells let out a burst of song. “They know why Rokh Nadim is not here, Deva. He's not here because he's not safe on Mehtar. His life has been threatened, not once, but several times; it has been made clear to him that if he were to come to Mehtar, misfortune would befall him.”

At a look from Vrksa's frigid eyes, the KNC Speaker came languidly to his feet. “And do you suggest, sama, that we are responsible for these alleged threats?”

“I do not suggest such a thing, sama, I accuse.”

Jaya sat forward in his seat, along with nearly every other Varmana.

“This is a serious charge, Taffik Pritam,” said the Deva Radha.

“I have others to go with it,” he returned. “First, they cut off our supplies, forcing us to the expense of sending to Mehtar for the most basic equipment. Then they refused to let our vessels transport that equipment to Avasa. Then they prohibited their freighters from carrying it unless a member of the Guild accompanied the shipment—as a paying passenger. Our earnings do not run to frequent space passage, Deva. When we pooled our resources, sending one Guilder to stand for collective orders, we were told that every Guilder who places an order must sign for it, in person, at the freight dock on Mehtar before the resources can be released.”

“We are only trying to protect our associates, Deva,” interrupted Speaker Prakash. “The Avasan ships are ancient and unreliable-“

“They are entirely reliable!”

“-and sending expensive equipment to Avasan retailers in the hope that it will be sold is not profitable. What are we supposed to do if someone orders a drill rig, then never shows up to pay for the shipping?”