Wine & Tears
Ch 15
Drojendrik felt as if he was being watched. He scanned the shadowy low roofed hall, broken on both sides with recessed doors. It was lit with small cups of ghee in which floated tiny boats holding wicks. They sat flickering in shallow niches in the plastered walls. Here and there would be a cup placed by a door. Looking both ways, Drojen could see three nearby doors with lights, several more in the dim distance in either direction. Most of the doors were unlit, the rooms supposedly empty. He could see no-one, but the tingling wariness continued, and he stopped, focussing on his jewel, opening his mind, his senses registering the dominant smell of burning ghee and a faint background of incense. He could hear a distant murmurs through the thick walls, and somewhere far off, the slap of feet, a ringing of a bell. There was always some sound in the Mantopa.
He walked, softly, careful to prevent the sound of cloth pant-legs rubbing. At a particularly shadowy doorway, the nearest lamps flickered low. He moved into the door recess, expanding his senses still further. He could feel no life in the hall, and the sense of life-essence in the rooms seemed to correspond to those indicating occupancy. Sinking deeper, he felt nothing below him, but perceived someone walking away along the hall above.
The hand that touched his chest made his heart jump, then race, his eyes snapping open, muscles suddenly unresponsive. He was physically frozen, then the hand turned his head to the side. The strange woman from the night before stood beside him. As he recognised her, she again touched his chest, and his paralysis vanished.
Her voice was soft, dark velvet. “Forgive me, Drojendrik. I didn’t want you to jump or call out.”
Swallowing, he nodded. “Honoured one. What can I do for you?”
The black-haired woman smiled gently. The expression added beauty to the flat features. “I told you I would contact you if I had more to convey. There is more. It will be in your interest to follow me.”
His mind begin to function more clearly. “Where?”
“Close at hand. Come, we have little time.” She turned and walked down the hall, a small brown-robed woman with a cap of black hair, entering an unremarkable door, old wood on iron hinge-pins, like hundreds of others in the Mantopa. Nearly all these rooms were identical. Anyone needing a meeting simply chose one, placing a lamp outside to indicate occupation. Someone coming to a meeting simply looked in those rooms with lights, if they were unsure. This far in the interior of the building, lamplight was the only illumination.
The room he entered initially looked like any others, plaster walls, dusty floor, old painting of sacred scenes, rendered on cloth, hanging on each wall. But the woman turned left, moving to a painting of Bharavantik, the wrathful guardian of the south, and lifting a corner, indicated a passage in the wall behind. He could not imagine knowing this. The Mantopa was huge, part palace, part temple, part monastery, part fortress. It was home to over ten thousand people, and contained all the offices for running both the Empire, as well as being a hub of religion. It’s development had been a millennial process of accretion, layer built on layer, burying the inner rooms under a human-made mountain of stone and wood.
He followed in silence, since silence seemed to be required. Behind the sacred painting, the passage opened on a stair of rough stone running along the middle of the wall, narrow enough that his shoulders barely fit between. They climbed what he estimated to be two floors, an oil lamp on the central landing allowing them to see. The strange woman gestured him to stop, indicating the wall opposite the stair though the steps continued upward. Touching it, he found the wall was actually a tapestry, painted to look like rock. Pushing it aside, he stepped into a passage, dark as a covered well, smelling of stone and must. The floor seemed even. He raised his hands on both sides, brushing the sides of the passage. After twenty-three paces the woman took his sleeve, and he stopped. Suddenly, there was light, three small holes, dim illumination spreading from bright circles, but enough for sight. The woman put her eye to one hole, and he followed suit.
He could see another meeting room, lit with two small lamps, unremarkable. The spy-holes were high, two hand-spans below the ceiling. No-one was likely to see them, yet they overlooked the room. Two men sat close to each other on round cushions. One was Childrik, an officer from army central command. Not top echelon, but the one below it. The other was a stranger with the high cheekbones and almond eyes of a plateau-dweller, but with hair that was brown rather than black, thick and wavy. His eyes were light, almost the colour of tea. This was the man who spoke, as he poured from a steaming flask.
“…And will this Nilara cause any problems?”
“I can’t say, Ashitun. She’s a Naga. The Naga don’t follow military control. Lutsajig indicates she is a wild card, not well controlled even among her own people.
“Yes, this is the word we get from other Naga.”
The soldier looked up, surprised. “You have alliances among the Naga?”
“We have alliances everywhere. That is why your superiors have chosen to join us.”
Childrik paused, then picked up a cup, putting it back without drinking. “We have sent orders to have the regiments gather at Vasunantang. The pass will be unguarded, once the troops fall back from Chanatang.”
The other man, Ashitun, studied the soldier. “Will all the troops come down? My understanding is that there are some who feel other loyalties.”
“I think not. Our men are loyal to the generals, and we give them their orders. I cannot say what the Nagas will do, or the Naa, but when the Natin reach the pass, I think they will find no army to stop them. Saruchan will have given them their orders yesterday evening.”
“I hope things go as you say. A pity if they do not.”
The officer sounded irritated. “At this point, there is no way to know. Even the fastest birds cannot deliver a message in a single day.”
“Yet the Natin don’t wait for your birds. They should be at the bottom of the pass shortly after full moon. So, when you hear any news, contact me immediately.”
Childrik looked bitter, as if he’d eaten an unripe persimmon. “Don’t worry. If Shanikot doesn’t fall, it won’t be because the army saved it.”
The officer never did touch his drink, sitting still while Ashutan rose and left without another word. Childrik seemed withdrawn, staring for some time at the wall, probably at a religious painting. Finally, he begin to chant, unwrapping a set of prayer beads from his wrist. Once he completed a set of prayers to Koris, god of discipline, he did a short set to Nicthen, goddess of Ambition, then fell silent again, finally rising and leaving, carefully tipping his cup so it’s contents spread across the floor.
Once he left, Drojendrik pulled away from the wall, sensing the woman beside him do the same. He saw her smile in the dim light, and shuddered slightly with a sudden superimposition of the giant lizard smiling.
She spoke then. “This man, Ashutan. He is one to watch. He will lead you to interesting places. This other, he is only a messenger, though not without fault. ...But then, who is without fault?”
She turned away just as Drojendrik begin to speak. “Honoured one, can you tell me more? What is your interest in this?”
She did whatever it was that covered the spyholes, dropping them back into a lightless dark before she answered. “My interest was to show you this.”
“What would you have us do?”
“Would you take orders from me? You did what you needed to do. I have conveyed this information. It is up to you to act on it. Consult your fellows.”
Then, with a tug she led him out, first to the stairs, then, blowing out the lamp as she passed, back down to the room and out into the lamp-lit hall. He felt a moment of vertigo, and when it passed, she was gone. He was in a different part of the hall, and though he looked in rooms nearby, he couldn’t locate the room with the hanging of Bharavantik.
It was only later that he realised he had no clear idea what had taken him to the hallway where he had been surprised by the woman adept.
Paljik watched as Mahendron cracked the knuckles of his sausage-like fingers. The man was gross, deep jowls and a double chin framing a petulant frown on his cupid-bow mouth. His eyes were dark beads in the flesh around them.
The Viceroy leaned forward, elbows on the table. Mahendron had been big and physically powerful once. Now he was simply over-stuffed. Paljik schooled his expression to a bland neutrality. The man was still dangerous, but with skill, that would end.
Mahendron’s voice sounded like that of an irritable bull eating gravel as he spoke to his Privy Counsellor. “What do you mean, the Natin want us to help them?”
“My lord, that’s what the agent said. They want more direct support. I told them no. I can control them, but these people are greedy, not to be trusted.”
“They will be tamed by the Naa. Zhindrik won’t tolerate demands.”
“The DashakNaa is the master of the heavens, but perhaps your majesty needn’t trouble him.”
“What do you mean?” The look on the Viceroy’s face managed to convey the sense that he would reluctantly hear a distasteful suggestion, but that Paljik would remain pond-scum no matter what he said.
“Lord, these Natin have their part to play, but once that part is done, you could remove them. A victory banquet is an occasion where they will be at ease and off guard.”
Mahendron’s grin did it’s best to be broad, given the poor material of the Viceroy’s small mouth. “Yes. I’d thought of that already, Paljik. It also has the advantage of making some payments unnecessary.”
“Indeed Lord.” And you will be surprised when you are caught in your own net. His deep obeisance hid Paljik’s smile
Drojendrik pushed his way through the crowded inn, people jostling, the blandly sour tang of rice beer an overlay for the scent of human bodies and pungent foods. He headed towards the woman sitting at a table next to dais, on the side where the musicians played. Though he was half-way across the low-ceilinged room, she looked up, sensing him, her features thin to sharpness, eyes like stars in a night sky, black hair long and loose. Pushing his way through the press, he scanned for any sign of oddness, any sense of being observed by others. He felt nothing out of place.
As he arrived, she turned and spoke to the man with her, who rose, kissing her hand in a way that held minor parody, the humour a thing shared between them. He turned, gave Drojen a subtle lowering of the head in greeting, and departed. Drojendrik slipped into his place, the cushion still holding body-heat, and kissed Samatrin on her weathered cheek.
“Sama, thank you for meeting me. Before I say more, I’ll ask you to use your powers to scan for watchers.”
She raised a fine, high-arched eyebrow as a comment, then closed her eyes, hand going to her batris-gem. Drojen watched as she sat. His own skills at scanning were of a high order, but she was the best the Naga had. If anyone in his order had answers, it would be Sama. Not only was she a superlative scanner, but she had resources of lore most did not, and she was a woman.
After a space of nine heartbeats, she opened her eyes, giving a subtle shake of her head. “There is nothing I sense, Drojen. We are also sitting next to the drummers, and there is background sound and energy. A good place for private conversation. We have a jug of beer. Have a cup, or water, if you like.”
He took the heavy porcelain cup that had been used by the man who left, and poured water. “I didn’t mention everything in the Council meeting this evening. In part, that was because I have reason to believe no part of the Mantopa is really secure.”
“What do you mean, not secure?”
“I mean that the first time I saw the adept, she was listening at ventilators, and the second time she took me through passages inside the walls. There are stairs that lead up at least three levels, passages like termite-eaten wood. It was from one of these I observed Childrik. I had the feeling someone could watch whatever room they chose. I no longer trust any place in the Mantopa.”
“What you are telling me is serious, but what you are implying is that this adept regularly engages in spying, and she or her colleagues have done so for long enough to know, and possibly to have constructed, such passages. You didn’t mention surveillance to the Council. Was that because you didn’t want others hearing… or because you suspect some of our own Naga colleagues?”
“Gasht’s mercy! Ashitun mentioned Naga informers, but I hadn’t really considered traitors among the Council. Do you think there could be?”
The sound of the drums, percussive beat of the dancers’ feet, and short, sharp cries from the singers temporarily overwhelmed the ability to hear speech. Sama watched him, amusement clear on her saturnine features. Once the wave of sound peaked and crashed, she spoke again.
“_Betrayal_ is an idea, based on expectation that things should be a certain way. Beneath it is the belief in common values and understanding, common commitments. All these things are mental constructs. It does not pay to have expectations about the world, or beliefs about what happens in someone else’s mind or heart.”
“Surely betrayal is clearer than that. It’s going against a vow or claimed allegiance.”
“Of course. But you, Dro, conceive such acts as wrong, and put a judgement into that description. The betrayer often sees their action as right, sometimes even as the ‘real’ fulfilment of the shared values and principles… Some might say speaking here to me betrays the trust in which you should hold your fellows.”
He knew the way Sama could twist ideas to novel directions in an effort to surprise and shock. She’d explained it once as a way to shake people, get them thinking in fresh ways, so he didn’t react to her statement that talking to her might be a betrayal.
“I’ll ponder this. I didn’t come because I thought our council includes traitors, but because I worry about being overheard. I also wanted to ask you about things I wasn’t ready to share. Some Councillors are not flexible, and we could lose the important things in a demand for answers I don’t have. I’m hoping you can give me some of those answers.”
He leaned toward her. “You know I said the woman is an adept. But I have never heard of a woman Cheel, and this woman had power only an accomplished Cheel would have. You are one of the few who might know of women adepts. You are master of most inner Naga skills, and are wise in many things. Some say you should have been a Cheel.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, though it may not always have been intended as such. But Drojen, I think you will need to start examining yourself more deeply. You say you trust your colleagues. Yet you speak to me, withholding both information that the Council could be subject to watchers, and withholding information about your informant. You didn’t tell the Council she was a woman. You didn’t tell them that potentially a group of adepts spy. Have you ever heard of Naa or monastics spying? That is supposed to be our job, though the Naga have grown more independent of the Naa than many admit. How different is it to say you do not trust your colleagues, than to say you will speak behind their back because they may not understand? If you cannot trust them to understand, to what extent can you say you trust?”
“Are you saying I betray my position? I’ve lived my life..”
“No. You clearly act to serve your understanding in a way that has integrity, but your understanding lacks depth. You are highly skilled, Drojen, one of the best and most accomplished of our order. You’re also symptomatic of the separation from Balance that I spoke of. I know you are devoted to your Naa, but your devotion is still that of a servant, not a student. Until you deepen your understanding of self, you cannot truly serve Nomi.” She looked at him, and he could feel the concern and care she had. He really did sometimes see her as a teacher of Balance, rather than a colleague.
Her tone turned brisk. “It’s something for you to pursue inwardly, and the answers may affect your understanding of our situation. Regarding your questions, tradition says Nomi has always been served by both men and women. As you know, the Naa are all men, and so are their Cheel. They work and teach in the open. They are our spiritual and temporal leaders. But if they are open, perhaps Nomi’s balance requires the hidden. It is said there is a secret order of women, led by women. Legends call them the Vaj, and the female Naa are known as Vajshi.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this?”
Sama laughed, but her tone dripped irony. “When have you looked or cared about women? Aside from in bed. You take too much unquestioned. Do you think Nomi is a male god? Did you ever wonder how only men serve Balance at higher levels? As I say, the Vaj are hidden. But there have always been stories of witches and women adepts.”
“In those stories they are mostly evil. If the male Naa are good, and in the open, and the female Vaj are hidden, are they also evil? Is that part of Balance?”
“Drojen, you spend too much time on martial skills, it rots your soul.” she said in exasperation. “You’re one of the best men at inner skills, but the inner practices should be for wisdom, not for powers. If you really studied, you’d know how primitive good and evil are. Balance does not include evil. The thought-form ‘evil’ is simply ignorance. Ignorant people have seen women of power as evil. But going back to the question, your answer is yes, women adepts are said to exist.”
“Where can I find them?”
“Why do you want them? They’re adepts. If you really believe in your Naa, ask him. For my part, what I tell you is dependant on my own allegiances. You’re a friend, you’ve been a lover, you’re a Naga. What I’m telling you is what you need to know. Yes, women adepts may serve the balance. If the Vaj do exist, they may seek information, or may have agents who do. Tell me Dro, what does that mean to you?”
“I don’t know, Sama. I’m trying to figure out what’s happening.”
Reaching out, she put a hand on one side of his face. “And so you came to me. Thank you for your trust, Dro. If you want an opinion…,” she paused, waiting until he nodded. “I feel your instinct in coming to me was right. Personally, I’m not certain all Naga are people we can depend on, including some in the council. I’m not saying why they may fail us; betrayal, conflicted understanding, incompetence on some level, maybe just inflexibility and too much adherence to procedure. I think we’re in a critical time, and not everyone will be helpful.
“The first order of things is to act on what you heard. If the Natin army will attack through the pass to Shanikot, we’ll have to make sure they are met, whether or not the Naga council takes a similar position. The second order of business is to determine who is working for a Natin invasion. We have three certain parties, including Lutsajig, and need to watch them. Close behind that, we need to work out why Saran officials would want Natin to invade. Finally, we need to know who our friends in this will be, and who may be enemies, including those informants Ashitun implied exist in the Nagas. Those are the things we need to do. You personally, need to do some self-examination.”
Drojen smiled wryly. “You do that so well, setting priorities for action. Where do you fit the Vaj adept?”
“We don’t know that is what she is. And it seems to me, who she is and what position she represents is far less important at the moment than following the information she’s given, and checking the validity of what we’ve learned.”
“But if I’m going to keep meeting her, I’d like to know.”
“Why Dro? Are you planning to make her a frequent companion?”
“I’m afraid of her. I haven’t told you half of what happened.”
“Fear never stopped you bedding me.” Mara grinned at Drojen’s smile. “So, why don’t you come to Mama Sama’s room, and you can tell me all about this scary woman.”
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