Different Senses (2e)

Different Senses Ann Somerville

These stories are a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. ‘Prologue’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Ex’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Lost Girl’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Seeker’s Gift’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Inside Out Bracelet’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Pretty Boy’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Bomb’ Copyright © 2009 by Ann Somerville ‘Javen and the Night of Fire’ Copyright © 2010 by Ann Somerville All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information please visit my website at http://logophilos.net Smashwords Edition 2, January 2011 Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Published by Ann Somerville

Contents Different Senses - Prologue Javen and the Ex Javen and the Lost Girl Javen and the Seeker’s Gift Javen and the Inside Out Bracelet Javen and the Pretty Boy Javen and the Bomb Javen and the Night of Fire

Different Senses Prologue I acknowledged the controller on my comm, then turned to my partner, Trilok. “Report of an ILT over by Haeve Street. Sri Gerjan.” “Again, sarge? That guy needs to calm down. The kids just like looking at his stuff. I don’t think he’s even had a theft in over a year.” “He thinks banis teenagers hanging around isn’t good for trade. Come on. If we don’t attend, he’ll keep calling.” Some days, patrolling the central shopping district in Hegal, we spent more time moving on completely harmless youths too many store owners saw as an ‘Indigenous Loitering Threat’ than we did investigating actual offences. Sri Gerjan could be counted on for a call a week at the very least, if not one a day. The irony was that he sold banismanufactured textiles—but his customers were Kelon, not unemployed natives. Rich Kelon wives didn’t like having to edge past sullen Nihani kids to spend their dolar. And if we, the police sworn to protect and serve the entire population, didn’t make life as comfortable for rich Kelon wives as they felt they deserved, rich Kelon husbands tended to be cranky. That kind of crankiness ended up making my father, the regional governor, an unhappy man. I had to admit very little of my days was spent worrying about my Dad’s feelings but my superintendent’s disapproval tended to be more immediate and forceful. So off we went to Haeve Street to shift bored kids over to some other part of the city where they could indulge their fantasies of being wealthy and wasteful without pissing off the worthy Sri Gerjan. We rode our cykes over, and as soon the kids saw us, they scattered—all but one. I groaned to myself. Darpak Charan, the thorn in my flesh. He hated the police—he hated Kelons, actually—and loved pushing us to arrest him for mouthing off, knowing that the superintendent at whatever station he ended up at, would let him go with a warning not to be such an idiot in future. The kid needed a new hobby. “Let me handle this, Trilok,” I said into my helmet communicator. “Right you are, sarge. I’ll go in and talk to Sri Gerjan.” “You do that. See if you can persuade him to be a little more tolerant.” We parked the cykes, and I walked over to Darpak, while Trilok headed into the upmarket material store owned by Sri Gerjan. The kid wore no shirt, but had on an open waistcoat displaying lots of flesh, which

tended to upset the wealthy shoppers, and loose-cuffed pants slung low on his hips, ditto. The pants and the dyed feathers woven through his braids were youthful fashion statements rather than indigenous custom. Kelon teenagers wore them too, much to their parents’ dismay, but what was mere rebellion on a Kelon kid, looked threatening on a banis one—at least to the respectable citizens of Hegal. Darpak wasn’t helping that impression with the fierce face striping either. I reminded myself that underneath the paint and the attitude was a seventeen-year-old boy who hadn’t yet got himself into serious trouble with the law and I wanted to keep it that way. “Good morning, Darpak.” An ugly sneer deformed the boy’s skinny face. “Sergeant Ythen. Come to tell me I can’t walk the streets of Hegal because my hair’s the wrong colour?” “No. How’s things? Any luck with the job hunting?” “What business is it of yours?” “None at all. Just making conversation.” “Disappointed you can’t hassle my friends again? Does it spoil your day?” I sighed. “Strangely enough, it doesn’t. Look, I know you lads are doing nothing illegal, and I also know it drives the storekeepers insane when you hang around their stores. They call us and then we have to come down and talk to you. Wastes everyone’s time.” He leaned back against the wall. “I’ve got plenty of time, chuma.” “But is it the best—?” Darpak jumped as three loud bangs came from behind us. People screamed, ran for cover into shops. I belted towards my cyke, yelling into my communicator. “Shots fired, vicinity of Haeve Street. Send assistance.” Trilok came barrelling out of the shop as I started my cyke. “Control the civilians, constable. Wait for backup!” Another shot. I was already gunning the cyke down Tworqel Street. Over my communicator, I heard which officers were attending. “Suspects spotted in blue Jekin hatchdoor auto, identification number Alpha Tango Foxtrot seven zero four, travelling at speed west on Tworqel Street. I’m in pursuit on cyke.” “Observe, but do not engage, sergeant.” “Understood. Ythen out.” Non-engagement might be difficult—a passenger in the blue vehicle fired again from the rear window, striking sparks off a metal wall to the left of me. I wore body armour but

there were plenty of places I could be hit that the armour didn’t cover, and if the rounds were duin-tipped, I might as well be naked for all the protection I had. I dropped back. “Suspects shooting at random. Falling back.” “Understood, sergeant. Two units heading to your position.” The auto increased speed, and the passenger’s arm disappeared back inside. I sped up too, reporting my position as the vehicle turned towards Pada Bridge. Suddenly it spun on its front wheels, and headed straight for me on the wrong side of the road. I swerved hard to avoid it, and the three autos behind me. Horns and curses sounded. “Suspects headed towards the city again, driving on wrong side of road. Request aerial support, Control.” “On its way, sergeant.” The auto veered recklessly over to the other side of the road, and I followed, hoping backup would hurry up and cut these idiots off before they caused a serious accident. More shots, and a vehicle on the other side of the road crashed onto the sidewalk. I called it in, unable to tell if the driver had been shot or simply distracted. Again they switched direction, back to the bridge. Overhead I heard a flyer, and its pilot calling reports into Control. The perps wouldn’t get away now. But then the auto made a sharp right, cutting off a large transport, forcing me to stop until the transport could back up. When I could finally follow the auto down the side lane, there was no sign of it. “Air Tango, can you see the vehicle?” “Negative, sergeant. Those are covered streets. Suggest caution.” “Thanks, AT.” I slowed the cyke to a crawl, turning up the outside mic to listen for the sound of wheels on tarmac. The street ended a hundred metres ahead, with turns to the right and left. “Lost sight of vehicle in Hurn Lane,” I reported. “Air support has no visual. Control, are you monitoring the approach to Pada Bridge?” “Yes, sergeant. Hurn Lane has no exits at your point, other than back down your direction.” “Understood.” I rode slowly up the lane, and stopped. I took off my helmet. All was eerily silent under the weather protective awnings crossing overhead. Where were all the people who worked here, the transporters, the delivery vehicles? There. Footsteps, running, to the left, towards the bridge, most likely heading for the

pedestrian crossing over the river. I jammed my helmet back on, sped up, and at the junction, saw the blue auto to the right, pulled over at an angle across the road, empty, its passengers apparently gone. “Vehicle abandoned. Suspects may be headed on foot towards Pada Bridge.” I dismounted and drew my weapon. Behind me sirens approached. Backup was close. I walked towards the auto, gun held ready for firing. “Sergeant, have you got visual on the suspects?” “Negative, Control. Vehicle is empty.” A quiet beep behind me, but I barely had time to register the sound as a pistol’s sighting mechanism before a blow to my chest—not a fist but a bullet striking the body armour—knocked me flying. The breath punched out of me, I struggled to raise my weapon as a man approached from the corner of a building. He fired twice more, once into my thigh, the other at my stomach. The shock left me unable to grip my gun, or even cry out. My dimming vision caught sight of the assailant throwing himself into the front seat of the auto, and the driver rising from his hiding place on the floor. He reversed the vehicle, missing me by mere centimetres, and accelerated towards the bridge. “Officer...down,” I whispered into my communicator. “Officer...down.” ~~~~~~~~ Apparently I died twice that day. According to the banis, I should have been reincarnated well and truly as a result and the Deists would swear I should be sitting down for chai with the Almighty right now. Being nothing but a Scientific Rationalist, I wasn’t aware of my brushes with oblivion or anything else for the next three weeks. My family told me later it had been one of the worst experiences of their lives, waiting for me not to die. For me, one minute I was bleeding out on a street, the next minute I was waking up in a hard bed, drugged and hazy, covered in data sensors and hooked up to oxygen, two drips and a catheter. My first utterance was something like “uhga,” which Kirin, my lover, interpreted as “I’m alive, and what the hell happened to me?” Close enough, I supposed. “Javen, you’re awake! How do you feel?” “Uh...st’ange.” My mouth was dry, and my chest and gut hurt in a vague, distant way. “I better find a medic. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for so long.” He touched my hand, which made me feel a bit...upset. Why was I upset? He frowned at me. “Are you all right? Sanity, is something wrong?” Panic rose tight and fast in my chest. An alarm off to the left pinged quietly but

urgently. Kirin’s eyes widened. “Javen, what’s happening? Medic! Doctor!” He lunged at the wall behind me to hit the call button. Now frightened and bewildered, I made a weak grab for his shirt, desperate for him not to leave me. “It’s all right, love, I’m getting help for you. Please don’t die.” Two women medics rushed in. “He woke up and now he’s freaking out,” Kirin said. “What’s wrong?” “Sri Nel, please, wait outside,” one of the medics said. “It’ll be fine. Please.” As soon as Kirin left, the panic subsided. Weird. The other medic checked my eyes, and then looked at the data on her reader. “How do you feel, Sri Ythen?” “O...kay. B’er.” I winced at the pain. I wished I had some water. “Your throat’s dry, I know. Now you’re awake we can test your swallowing, and then give you some liquid. Let’s have you sitting up a little.” The position was a bit more comfortable but moving had set off all kinds of aches, large and small. “Wha’ wrong?” “You were shot. Do you remember that?” I nodded. “That was three weeks ago, and you’ve been through a lot of surgery.” She smiled. “But you’re much better now. The doctor will be along after we check your ability to drink, and he can tell you more. For now, you need to take it easy. Shall I send Sri Nel back in?” “ ‘S.” Had anyone been in contact with my brother Yashi, or my parents? Or Trilok? My partner would have been going insane these last three weeks. I would have been, if the situations were reversed. Kirin came in, his face twisting with worry. My anxiety rose again, but I fought it so not to upset him. “The medic said you were fine. Sorry to be silly, but I’ve been....” He swallowed and smiled damply. “It’s been a hard few weeks. Yashi only left three hours ago. Should I call him?” “P’ease.” “Of course. And your parents. You’re in your father’s own dedicated room. The governor’s one, I mean. At least you missed all the press excitement. I suppose that’ll all start up again when they hear you’ve woken up.” His lips trembled, and a wave of anxious misery flooded me at the sight. I held out a hand to him and he gripped it. I tugged weakly, inviting him to kiss me, which he did but only on the cheek—the nose tube was in the way. “I thought you would never wake up.” I squeezed his hand, trying to smile. “Did.”

“Yes, you did. You’re upset. I’m upsetting you.” “No....” “Yes, I am.” He gently pushed my hand away. “I should go. People to call, and the medic said someone would be here any minute to do things to you.” “Ba’?” “Of course I’ll come back. But your family will want to visit. Mustn’t wear you out.” I wanted him to stay, but he looked so unhappy and I felt so crappy, maybe he was right to go. I waved as he left, and calmed down. I hoped this up and down emotional stuff was just part of being injured, because it wasn’t like me. I was the stolidly calm twin, Yashi was the bouncy, sympathetic one. It had always been like that. Me and my brother, reflections and complements. I suddenly wanted to see my brother very much. He would be out of his mind with worry. Finding out I could swallow safely was a lot more tedious than it sounded, but when the medics and therapists finished, I was allowed some water to sip with a promise of fruit juice later. Apparently real food would have to wait a while. The bullets had done a real number on my insides, now a mass of grafts and clever stitching, not to mention some nanobots which would gradually work their way out of me in ways I truly didn’t want to think about right now. I only had enough energy for about ten minutes of gentle activity, so I was worn out after they let me drink. I woke from the inevitable nap to find my own face smiling back at me. “Yashi.” “Hello, Javen.” He leaned in for a hug. The gesture made me ridiculously happy and relieved. “You almost look as good as new.” “Half of me is new. Are you all right? Tara, the boys?” “We’re fine. Well, worried but fine. Mum and Dad...never seen Dad cry before.” “He cried? Really?” “Yeah. You know, manly gubernatorial tears. Made him look all sensitive for the press.” I made a face. “You’re joking.” “Yeah.” He laughed and I grinned. “You look better than I thought you would. Kirin sounded worried.” “You know what he’s like. A bit highly strung. He hasn’t done the sick lover thing before.”

“You’re not sick. You were shot.” His suddenly snappish tone made me straighten a little, irritated. “I know that. Did they catch who did it?” “Yes. A couple of punks. They shot someone they’d set up a drug deal with, apparently. That’s what you and Trilok heard. They ambushed you and made it over the bridge. But the police caught up with them in Darliw.” “Charged them with attempted murder?” “No, the police shot them.” I stared at him, and he stared back, expression hard. “They died in a shoot out and when you nearly died, I wished I’d killed them myself.” “Yashi....” “I nearly lost you, Javen. We nearly lost you.” He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, and tears pricked in my own eyes. “Damn it. This was the biggest fear I had about you going into the force.” “I’m okay,” I said, my voice thick with grief. “I didn’t die.” “Too bloody close. Too close.” I held my arms out and he came close so I could hug him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, his pain and my pain one mass of unhappiness. He sniffled, and pushed back, wiping his eyes. “Well, this is great,” he said, grinning bravely. “Welcoming you back by crying all over you.” “Better than you crying over my coffin.” “Are you trying to cheer me up?” “Sort of.” “You suck at it.” “Yeah, always have. Mum and Dad are coming?” “Maybe later, if you’re up to it. I’ll call them. Are you okay? I know why I’m upset but why are you upset?” “Twin mental bond?” He made a rude noise. “Javen, that time I broke my arm in three places as a kid? You never felt a thing.” “Feel me get shot?” “Nope, not a twinge. Mental bond my arse.” I shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? Manly tears affect me that way.”

“Huh. Some big bad tough cop you are.” “Are you bringing the twins next time? I want to see them.” “Maybe. We tried not to involve them too much, especially when they weren’t sure...uh....” “If I would make it?” “Yeah. Are you up to the boys? The doctor told us you were pretty much held together with spit and goodwill.” My brother the vet tended to forget human patients understood remarks like that. “Were you supposed to tell me that? And yes, I can handle the boys. I want to see them, and Tara.” Sorrow washed over me, shocking me with the suddenness of it. Deep, aching misery and grief. I covered my face, confused and heartbroken. What was I grieving over? Yashi squeezed my shoulder. “Javen? Javen, what’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I sobbed. “I’m okay.” “You sound it. Let me find a medic.” He got up and went to the door, but as soon as he did, the sorrow passed as if it had never been, leaving only a stuffy nose and a vague tightness in my chest. “Wait, I’m fine. Yashi?” He’d stepped out, but I heard his voice from a little way outside. Damn, if he called a medic in.... Yashi returned. “Sorry, there was a man outside crying. I just wanted to see if he was okay.” He stared at me. “Crying like you were.” “Coincidence. I’ve been up and down.” But a cold dread filled me even as I said it. Could I really have been affected by the emotions of a total stranger I couldn’t even see? “That must be it. Look, do you need anything? The medics said to keep it short and if Mum and Dad are coming over, I don’t want to wear you out.” My crying jag had exhausted me. “I know. Come back tomorrow?” “For sure. And with the kids.” He bent and kissed my cheek. “Stay calm, rest.” “I will.” But the frisson of fear I felt, scared me. Just whose fear was it? ~~~~~~~~ I told myself my wildly swinging moods were nothing more than a reaction to my injuries and the shock of nearly dying. Even when I broke down in tears in front of my

parents because Mum did, Dad muttered something like, “No need to be ashamed, son,” though he was embarrassed as hell. That only made it worse. I mentioned the problem as casually as I could to the doctors, and a charming lady psychologist came and sat with me, talking about post traumatic stress and near death experiences until I felt sane again, and accepted the prescription for a mild sedative with relief that my labile emotions were just a side-effect of my injuries. With the help of drugs and determination, I feigned calm so well that Trilok and Superintendent Ferir, coming to visit and bringing a video message from the entire station house as well as a gag gift of a bottle of virulent orange vitamin syrup, looked a little stunned. “Never seen an officer this cheerful about being shot before, Ythen,” my super said. “Better than being dead,” I chirped. Trilok winced. “Docs say it’ll be a few weeks before I’m ready for active duty, but don’t go giving my job away just yet, sir.” “You worry about getting back on your feet, sergeant, and leave operational matters to me. I’ve assigned Constable Vimet a temporary partner, of course, but we’re all looking forward to you coming back to work.” I gave him the thumbs up. “Good as new, sir.” I think I scared him a little. He told me brief details about the shooters and their deaths, but wandered off to let me talk to Trilok in private shortly after. “What the hell are they giving you?” my partner asked as soon as we were alone. “Double doses of larin?” “Nope. Just determined to go back to my job. No need to be so suspicious, Trilok.” He frowned. “How did you know...? Are you sure you’re okay, sarge?” “Absolutely fine, bar a few supernumerary holes.” I gave him the thumbs up again, but at his puzzled look, I hid my hands under the covers. “Don’t go getting slack because I’m not around.” “No, I won’t. Anything you need, sarge?” We chatted for a couple of minutes, but he made his excuses after that. I knew I’d made him uncomfortable. Not as in I read his expression. I knew it. Felt it in my head. My psychologist, Doctor Woy, was less cheerful when I told her that. “I’d like to run a few tests, Javen, just to be sure I haven’t missed something. I can wait until you’re feeling better, if you like.” Missed what? “No, do them as soon as you want. When I’m not being poked, or hauled around the physio room, I’ve got nothing to do. You’re worried?”

She straightened up and smiled at me. An act, and I wished I hadn’t been so sure of that. “Not really. I’m being ultra cautious. Keep taking those sedatives, and try not to worry about things. Call me if you want to talk, okay? I’ll drop around tomorrow and we’ll run through some questions.” The moment she left, I regretted telling her the truth. What if this was something serious? Real psychological damage, the kind of thing that would get me marked as unfit for work? Damn it, I’d die if I had to work as a desk jockey. Seen too many cops go down that route, become fat, sour and narrow. I’d quit before I let that happen. Kirin’s visits were a mixture of pleasure and pain for me. Pleasure because I loved him and missed him, pain because his anxiety rubbed off on me. When he came by that evening, that unease reverberated off my own worry, making me snappish and impatient with my lover in a way I hated, but couldn’t seem to stop. “Would you like me to leave?” he asked after I’d barked at him about fidgeting. “No. Just sit still. I’ve got enough to think about without worrying about you.” “I know that, Javen. It’s not a lot of fun on this side of the bed either.” “Maybe you should find someone to fill the gap.” His eyes widened. “What do you mean?” “If it’s so tedious, you don’t have to play the attentive lover. I’d rather you went off and had fun if you find it so boring.” He paled. I felt like shit for being so bloody vile. “Kirin, no. I’m sorry. Ignore me. I’m...just all fucked up lately.” He patted my hand. “I know you are, love. But we’re in this together, remember. No replacing you with anyone,” he added, wagging his finger and making me smile. “Is there anything I can do? More books, better music? Anything?” “Blowjob?” “Here?” His scandalised face made me laugh. “Be something, wouldn’t it? In the governor’s own private ward?” “Your mother would never speak to me again. And she’d tell my mother.” “Be worth it just to hear that conversation.” “You’re serious.” “No. To tell the truth, I don’t think I could get it up anyway. Too many drugs and wires and things. “It’s not....”

“Permanent? Don’t think so. I haven’t actually asked.” “Sanity, Javen, you have to find out! A man’s...reactions...are essential.” “Yeah, but there’s been a bit more to worry about than morning wood. I’ll find out for you, so you don’t need to pick up a toyboy for relief purposes.” Again he wagged his finger. “You’re spending too much time thinking along those lines. Stop it. It’s unhealthy.” “Yes, Mum.” “Brat.” He stood. “I should go though. You look tired.” He brushed the hair off my forehead. “Love you.” He bent and kissed me. “Sleep well.” “You too. And I’m sorry.” “You’re a terrible patient. Get well and it’ll be behind us.” Oh, I hoped so. I really hoped so. ~~~~~~~~ “Some questions” took two hours and left me exhausted and fretful, though nice Doctor Woy took it as gently as possible, giving me lots of breaks and support. “That’s the worst of it,” she said. “I’ll need a brain scan and some blood work done, but I hope to have some preliminary results by tomorrow and then we can go from there.” “What do you think it is?” I’d come to distrust that particular smile of hers, the one that said “Let’s not scare anyone just yet.” I’d used it too many times myself in the field. “I don’t think it’s helpful to speculate. You’ll just worry yourself and there’s probably no need. How are you sleeping?” “Fine,” I lied. “I feel much better today.” “Excellent. Then I’m sure these tests will rule anything major out. Concentrate on your physical therapy. More than enough there to keep your mind working.” We were both lying. When doctors lied, patients had good reason to be scared. I had the scan and more blood drawn, but I heard nothing from the psychologist the next day or the day after that. I guessed if it had been something life threatening like a tumour, there wouldn’t have been a delay, but the silence made me edgy and cranky, and poor Kirin took the brunt of it. At least Yashi was with him the second time and told me to knock it off, but both of them were more concerned than angry. I wanted to tell them to knock it off, but how could they and how could I? They were making noises about leaving when Doctor Woy turned up. “Oh, Javen, you have visitors. I can come back.”

“It’s okay, doctor. This is my brother, Yashi, and my partner, Kirin.” “Oh. Nice to meet you.” She shook hands with them. “I suppose it’s just as well...you could do with some support, I think. If you don’t mind them hearing the results of the tests, I mean.” Yashi took my hand. “Bad news, doctor?” “Um, possibly. Javen?” “Tell me,” I said. Yashi squeezed my hand. Kirin moved in closer. “Is it a tumour?” She was taken aback. “Goodness, no. You’re not ill at all. Is that what you thought?” “Yes. But if it’s not that—” “No, it’s not. Categorically not. You two are twins, aren’t you? Identical? Do you have children, Yashi?” “Identical twin boys.” “Ah, then this will affect you too. Javen, you and Yashi have the gene for empathy. Did you realise that?” I frowned. “No. How can we? We’re both Kelon.” Yashi looked at me in confusion. Kirin squinted at the doctor. I reached for his hand but he didn’t see. “I don’t know how specifically. Obviously I don’t know your family history in every detail, but the results are unequivocal.” “You mean we have banis blood?” But we were Kelon. The whole family were Kelon. Yashi grinned uneasily. “You want to tell Dad or will I?” Wouldn’t that be fun. “Um, you, I think, since I’m injured. But, doctor, I’m not empathic. I did the test when I joined the force.” “No, you weren’t then. You are now.” “What?” Kirin’s voice echoed mine. “How can that be?” he asked. “When did it happen?” I didn’t care for the accusation in his voice that seemed half aimed at me. “I think it was triggered by the shooting,” she said. “It’s rare but there are cases on record of trauma or severe illness activating empathy in Kelon individuals with the gene.” “Then untrigger it. They can do that now, right? Gene therapy or something?” She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Some things we could reverse, yes. Not this. It fundamentally changes brain structure and chemistry. Trying to reverse could leave you severely damaged. You’ll have to accept that you’re now an empath and will be for the rest

of your life.” “No, you have to be wrong! I’m not an empath. I can’t be a cop with empathy.” She winced—my voice had got a little loud. But damn it, this couldn’t be right. It couldn’t. Yashi finally realised what the real issue was. “Javen,” he murmured. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The results are very clear. You are empathic, and very strongly so. And I, uh, have a statutory duty to tell your employer.” “No! Run the test again! I can’t be,” I pleaded. “I’m a cop. Please. Do it again.” “I would if I thought there was the least point. You have to accept this. You’re an empath. I’m sorry.” I reached for Kirin, but he backed away. “Kirin?” “I’m sorry, Javen. I...I just...there’s something I need to deal with.” “Kirin!” Yashi shouted after him. “I’ll be back. I’m sorry!” Why was Kirin running away just when I needed him? Yashi put his hand on my shoulder as I glared at the doctor. “What have you done to me?” I snapped at her. “You’ve just destroyed my whole bloody life.” “No, I didn’t. No one caused this, Javen, except possibly the men who shot you. The ability was within you. Both of you, and likely your boys, Yashi. You should all be tested.” “No,” I said. “Leave them alone. Leave me alone.” She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry. I’ll come by tomorrow—” “You’ve done enough, thank you.” My voice was cold, but my chest tightened with tears I fought not to shed. “I’ll come by anyway. Javen, it’s not the end of the world.” I stared at Yashi and ignored her until she went away. Then Yashi hugged me. “She’s right. It’s not the end of everything.” “Only my job. My career. What am I going to do, Yashi?” “Dunno, brother. But I’ll be with you while you work it out. Don’t worry about that.” I buried my face against his arm. Did I cry because of his sorrow or my own? Did it matter? This stupid, ridiculous, useless ability was no substitute for the job I loved. I might as well cry. Wasn’t much else I could do, not now.

Javen and the Ex The day broke, pale sun shining cheerfully through the windows. I looked at it and the invitation it held to get up and join the bustling masses. “Not today,” I mumbled, rolled over and tried to get some more sleep. Three hours later when my bladder and aching back made it impossible to avoid being awake, I took a piss, then stumbled into the kitchen. I stopped short and blinked, grittyeyed, at seeing my brother Yashi there. It was nine. The family was normally long gone by the time I woke again from restless dreams and rose, looking for chai. “Oh. Is it your late shift today? I thought that was tomorrow.” Yashi lifted an eyebrow in exactly the same way I would. “Same day every week. Losing track of time, brother?” I made a face at him and headed for the cupboard. He continued putting the clean dishes away. “You could leave all that. I’ll clear it later.” “It’s okay. Waiting for the laundry to finish. If you could clear the dryer and fold the clothes....” I waved at him to say that’d be fine. We were still sorting out what chores I should do in exchange for free lodging. I did a fair bit in addition to babysitting, but he and Tara already had a scarily efficient routine to manage their twins, careers, and the household, and Yashi didn’t like to impose. I’d tried to let him know I’d be only too happy if someone would ask me to do something useful, but he was an independent sod. Like me, really. “You want chai?” “Sure, why not. I’m ahead of myself today, and the boss won’t care if I’m late.” I smiled a little at his joke as I filled the kettle. Yashi ran his own vet practice. He could do what he liked. “Having more for breakfast than chai, I hope,” he said as he sat down. “What? Oh, maybe later. Not hungry right now.” “Right. My face needs a shave too.” “Huh?” He pointed at my features, identical to his own except for the stubble. “Yeah, I guess. No one cares any more.” “I do. Tara does. The kids do. They want to see you look okay, Javen. You know— back with us.”

My conniving twin had engineered this, I realised sourly. Should have figured it from his elevated concern, but there was so much of it around lately, I habitually ignored it. “You do ‘rock paper scissors’ with Tara to decide who’d give me the pep talk?” He rolled his eyes. “Dad called last night. He really wants you to work with him. It’s not charity.” “I know. But I really don’t want that job. I hate all that political stuff as much as you do.” I filled the chai pot with boiling water, and set two mugs out. “I know fuck all about mining leases. I’m a cop.” “Was a cop.” “Rub it in, why don’t you?” I felt his regret at upsetting me, which only upset me more. “You have to move on, Javen. Yes, it sucks they kicked you out for something you have no control over, but you’re only thirty-one. Even if you hadn’t developed empathy, that shooting could have been enough on its own to make you retire and you’d have the same problem.” “But it wasn’t,” I said, louder and sharper than was polite. “Physically, I’m fine. And if they’d kept me, empathy would have just made me a better cop.” “I know,” he said quietly. “It’s a dumb law, but lots of people agree with it. Even Dad said he does.” “Figures.” Yashi poured out the chai and I sat down. “Okay, we’re officially worried. You’re moping, you’re letting your grooming go, you haven’t spoken to anyone outside the family since you moved in with us, and that’s not like you.” “It is when I have a nasty break-up with my lying, cheating boyfriend.” “Kirin never cheated on you, and you know it.” “Huh. Let that little arsehole move in quick enough after I left.” He held up his hands. “Not getting in the middle of this. I don’t like what Kirin did, and I’ve told him. But he’s a friend, and I don’t believe he cheated on you. What Devi’s role was, I don’t know.” “I do. Arsehole.” Yashi sighed. “Well, maybe. Javen. You need to find something to keep you busy, something that gives you what being a cop did.” “You don’t get it. You don’t do cop work. You are a cop. It defines you. Me. It’s all I’ve wanted to be since I was ten, same as you wanted to be a vet. I don’t have anything

else.” I turned the mug around but didn’t drink from it. “My pension and investments are enough to live on.” “Damn it, it’s not about money. It’s about your self-esteem. You used to care about so much, and now you care about nothing. Maybe you need to see....” “A doctor? A mental health professional? An employment counsellor? Maybe a banis witchdoctor.” He moved back as if to get away from my sarcastic tone. “Someone. Didn’t they offer you help when you left the force?” “Sure. But they couldn’t help me get my job back and that’s the only help I need.” I stood and picked up my mug. “I’m going back to bed. I’ll sort out the laundry. Leave me a list if you want anything else. Housework, I can do.” He reached out a hand but I moved away from him. “Javen.” “Later, Yashi.” ~~~~~~~~ Of course I felt like a shit later, but Yashi’s kindness was more than I could stand. He hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know, and hadn’t beaten myself up over a hundred times. To make some kind of amends, I put away the laundry and scrounged around for other tasks that might need doing, then made a list of food items they were running short of, and did a run to the market for those. By now I vaguely felt like eating, and in the only routine I had these days, I headed for a small chai house in town that had several attractive features. It was quiet and private, and the chai and food acceptable without being so good as to attract non-locals. And most important of all—it was nowhere near any police station, court, or justice facility of any kind. This reduced my chance of running into anyone I knew to as close to zero as I could make it and still leave the house. Out of residual guilt, I even shaved, though I honestly wondered who would care or notice. My family would. I guessed that was enough reason. I walked because it was good for my still tender back muscles, and I was out of shape after so long recovering from the shooting. I definitely didn’t want to end up a sad, lonely and overweight ex-cop. I tried not to resent the busy people going about their useful lives, or the weight of their emotions on my brain. Most of the time it felt a bit like wearing a tootight hat, unless I sensed something more powerful, like extreme anger or hate. Then it was more like having a pick driven through my right eye. I’d have given a testicle to get rid of this ‘ability’ and the few banis I passed earned a scowl for the genetic contamination one of

their people had perpetrated on my family. That was how my parents put it anyway. Kelons and banis had intermarried a fair bit over two centuries of colonisation, but we’d always considered ourselves pure blood Kelon. Mum had hit the roof when she found her baby boy was walking proof someone in our past had crossed the racial divide. Why couldn’t I have inherited red hair from my banis ancestor, instead of this stupid ‘gift’? Empathy had wrecked my life. As usual, thinking about this stuff put me in a foul mood, and as usual, the owner of the chai house ignored my temper, and took my order of spiced chai and egg dosa in silence. She didn’t need to cultivate customers. Her place was close enough to the business district to attract workers looking for cheap, decent refreshment, and in the evenings, local residents came down for inexpensive filling meals. If they didn’t like her manners, they could go somewhere else that cost more, same as I could. I pulled up the media screen at the table and read the news, trying to avoid the crime reports, though my eyes kept going to them out of habit. I recognised names of fellow cops, areas I’d patrolled, regular problem makers, and crimes I’d worked hard all my career to solve and prevent. It was picking at the wound and yet I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I should see someone. But I hated talking about any of it because it made it more real, took me back to that day in the hospital when the results of the Empathic Sensitivity test had confirmed my worst fears. Empaths couldn’t be cops. It wasn’t fair on the poor little criminals that I might have an advantage over them and know when they were lying their arses off, like justice was a bloody game and we all had to start with a level playing field. I shouldn’t scowl at the banis in the city. I should walk up to the nearest civil libertarian and kick him in the nuts. The waitress brought my chai and food, and I had my first meal of the day. The dosa weren’t terrific, but they were edible, and I’d never been fussy about food. Used to drive Kirin crazy. He’d spend an hour titivating and spicing and arranging things just so, and put the plate before me only to have me eat it without comment. Food’s just food, you know? I was grateful he cooked, sure, but I’d have eaten it without all the messing around and he knew it. Still, much as my lack of culinary sensibilities annoyed him, it had taken my empathy to drive him away. Or have him stolen away. “Javen?” I jerked, my old lover’s voice in my head suddenly coming from outside it. I looked up and saw the handsome face that haunted my dreams. I stared, paralysed by unpleasant surprise, then shoved away from the table. “Nice to see you, Kirin. Goodness, look at the time. Catch you round.” I grabbed my

coat, and headed to the door, pushing my ex out of my way. The owner nodded slightly to me as I left but I ignored everything and everyone in my need to get the fuck away from the man who’d shredded my heart. “Javen, wait!” I walked faster. What in the name of sainted reason was he doing here? If Yashi sent him, I’d gut my brother with a rusty knife. Running steps, and before I could pick up my pace, Kirin grabbed my arm. “Wait, please! I need to talk to you.” I pulled away. “Too fucking bad.” “Please. Javen, I need you.” I glared at him narrow-eyed, wishing my empathy worked both ways so he would know just how angry I was. “Yeah? Bit late for that, friend. Devi’s your helpmate now. Go ask him.” “Javen, please. Please listen to me. Damn it, it’s life or death!” I made a rude noise. “Bullshit. Cut the dramatics, Kirin. They never impressed me.” “I’m serious. I...Javen, you’re the only person who can help me.” “Did Yashi send you here?” “What? Of course not. I can’t talk to him about this.” He ran his hand through his thick, wavy hair. He looked good, damn his eyes. At least I’d shaved. “Look, ten minutes. Twenty maximum. Please.” “Why? Why should I?” “Because I’m desperate.” “Yeah, right. Like I didn’t know that,” I said, tapping my forehead. “Another reason. You’re the one who gave me the excuse not to give a shit, remember?” He bit his lip while I did my best to keep a mean expression on my face. Kirin’s puppy eyes were pretty damn impressive but I wouldn’t soften. He’d blown his chances with me. “Javen, I’m staring at financial ruin. Not just for me, everyone in my lab. Twenty employees. Help them, if you won’t help me. Please?” I sighed. “Fifteen minutes maximum. Back in the chai house, and don’t make a scene because I like that place and want to go back. For the record, you’re a prick for coming anywhere near me right now.” He wrung his hands, and I wanted to tell him to stop the foppish gesture. But I didn’t. He wasn’t my business any more. “I know. I didn’t know anyone else to ask.”

“Always nice to be someone’s last option.” He winced, chagrined. Sometimes he had no idea how he sounded. Better at food than people, was Kirin. I led the way back to the chai house. The owner didn’t even lift an eyebrow at my sudden reappearance, taking my paycard without the slightest change in her emotions or expression as I ordered more chai. I sat back and gave him my hardest glare. “Okay, talk—fast and calm, and keep the sob stories for someone who gives a fuck.” He gulped, out of breath from being hysterical and walking fast. “Evidence has gone missing at the lab.” “Missing as in stolen?” He nodded. “So call the cops. I’m not on the force, remember?” “I can’t.” He twisted his hands like he was trying to wipe something nasty off them. “I’ll lose my contractor’s license, and the owner of the evidence and the client will both sue me. The insurance won’t cover it completely, and not at all if it’s staff theft. They’ll claim I colluded in it.” I held up my hand. “Back up. What was stolen, who owns it, and what client? And who took it, do you have any idea?” He lowered his voice. “A pendant belonging to Kajal Gemate, worth over a hundred thousand dolar. Her husband’s lawyers sent it for DNA analysis as part of their divorce case.” I whistled quietly. “Man, you picked some nice people to piss off. What happened?” He waited for the chai I’d ordered to be set in front of us, before continuing. “One of our technicians logged it out to begin work on it. It was still in the sealed evidence wallet, on his table, and he left it there—against all our regulations—while he attended to an urgent call for assistance from another employee. This was during the lunch break. When he returned, the wallet and pendant was gone.” “Sloppy, Kirin. You questioned people?” “Yes, and searched the lab thoroughly. No trace. If we don’t hand the pendant back with our results within ten days, I’ll have to admit what happened.” “The chain of custody’s broken anyway.” “Yes, but we’re testing for the presence of Shrimati Gemate’s alleged lover’s DNA. There’s no way we could have contaminated the item with that. We just need it back.”

I sipped my chai, pretending to think, but really taking time to get my feelings under control. I hadn’t seen Kirin in three months, and would have been glad not to have seen him for another three years. He really had a fucking nerve. Though I saw his problem. A lab losing an item that valuable and in such a high profile divorce suit? The police force would never use him again, and civilian clients would avoid him too because the opposition in any court case would have a wonderful time pointing out their chosen forensic laboratory was so careless. “Suspects?” “You have to understand, I know all these people very well. They’re friends.” “And one of them’s a thief. How many?” “Five people, not including me, were in the building. One of them is, um.” “Um. You mean the little bitch?” His face took on a pinched expression. “Devi, yes.” “Well then. Look no further.” “Javen, that’s unfair.” “He stole you, he could steal a pendant. Case closed.” “He didn’t steal me. I...left you.” “You threw me out and three weeks later Devi boy was unpacking his underwear in our old home. Pardon me for not believing a bolt of lightning made you suddenly appreciate our dear, dear friend after so long.” “I don’t want to talk about him. He didn’t do it.” “Prove it.” “I know him.” “Uh huh.” He looked on the verge of tears. “The others?” “All technicians. All people I trust completely. Javen, this has to be handled carefully. Any of them could cause a scandal.” “And again it comes back to, why me? There are at least a dozen private investigators in Hegal. Go ask one of them.” “I can’t trust them.” “And I can’t trust you.” “I’ll pay.” “I don’t care.”

“Please, Javen? For old times’ sake?” I rolled my eyes at him. “Oh man, that was the wrong line to take. No. Piss off. Fifteen minutes was up three minutes ago.” He hung his head, and I drank my chai, trying very hard not to care, or pay attention to the misery and anxiety rolling off him. This wasn’t anything to do with me twice over. Kirin wasn’t my lover, and I wasn’t a cop. He had a hell of a nerve. But the problem was, I still felt like a cop in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me. I’d been in Kirin’s lab lots of times, both on and off duty. It was a pretty slick outfit, lots of impressive quality control and tracking procedures for evidence and material. I’d never heard of the chain of custody being broken at his place, and that was one of the reasons he got so much police work. The screw up he described didn’t fit at all. “I still don’t know why me, Kirin. I’m a civilian. I can’t force anyone to talk to me, or search anyone without permission. If I had an investigator’s license, that’d be something, but I don’t.” He gave me a brief hopeful smile. “I thought you could use that...thing. To tell if any of them were lying.” My vision turned red from rage. “Do you actually want me to punch you on the fucking nose?” I spat. “That thing made you so afraid of me, disgusted you so much, you dumped me after three years together. And now you want to use it? Just go away. You make me sick. I mean it.” The tears were back. “I’m sorry. About all of it. I know I was wrong to say what I did...and to ask you to leave.” “Bit late now.” He nodded. “Yes. I fucked it all up, I know that. And now I’ve fucked this up. You’re right. I’m sorry to...I’m just sorry.” I didn’t watch him leave. I stayed where I was because I wasn’t sure I could walk on legs that had been cut out from under me. That miserable, selfish bastard. It wasn’t enough he had to rip my heart into bits, but now he wanted to make pâté out of it too? I’d always known he was self-centred but this? This was sociopathic. I called Yashi at work. “Did you tell that shithead where to find me?” “Good afternoon, Javen. Nice of you to call me. Which shithead are we talking about now?” “Kirin. He’s just tried to drag me into a stupid fucking mess of his own making.

Someone told him where to find me.” “I might have mentioned a while ago where you liked to eat breakfast, but I had no idea...sorry, brother.” He sounded sincere. “You all right?” “No.” “That stupid bastard. I’d never send him to you. You didn’t need this. I know what that would do to you right now.” “Yeah. Sorry I...never mind. Um, I did some grocery shopping for you guys, and fixed that leaking tap. Figured out what was causing it while I cleaned the bathroom.” “Thank you. Javen, you don’t need to be our housekeeper. We love having you.” “I know. I just want to...be part of the family. Have a real role. You know, not as a favour, but because you expect it. You’re entitled to expect it.” “Oh. Well, okay. I’ll work out what you can help with, and put you into the routine. The babysitting’s a big thing for us, though. Hard to find people we trust, and the kids adore you.” “I adore them back. Uh...better let you go.” “Yeah. You could drop by the clinic if you like.” “I might, sure. Later.” I hung up and stared into space. Trust. Such a loaded word, and one Kirin had no right to use. He’d betrayed me. I’d needed him and he kicked me out. The first real test we’d faced and he failed it. Like I’d just failed his test, though he had no business setting it. “For old times’ sake.” Give me a break. I didn’t owe him a thing. But there was something I could get from this—proof that I was the bigger man. Proof that the ‘freak’, as he’d called me in a frightened rage, could do something he couldn’t. Proof that he’d traded down when he’d gone for that little lying weasel, and if Devi was guilty I would so enjoy proving that. I thought about it some more, then called a number I was slightly surprised to find I hadn’t deleted. “Kirin? I’ll do it. I’ll come to the lab and you keep your mouth shut. Especially to fucking Devi, right?” “Of course.” “I mean it. He’s a suspect, same as the others. If you tell him what’s going down, I’ll walk.” “I won’t say anything. Thank you, Javen. I can never repay you for this.”

“You got that right.” I hung up. I really, really hoped Devi was the thief. It would make up for so much. ~~~~~~~~ Kirin’s lab was in the heart of the legal district—a place I’d carefully avoided for months. I tried not to wince as I saw uniformed officers—people I recognised, though thankfully no one called to me. Man, I’d extract full price from Kirin’s hide for this. He met me at the front desk as he’d done so many times before, but this time, it was as if we were strangers. The clerk, who knew me well, looked down at his work, avoiding both of us. Kirin pointed to the door on the left. “Um, this way.” “I know the drill.” He bit his lip again. He was going to gnaw it through by the time this was done. “Come to my office first.” The route avoided the main working areas, fortunately. A lot of his employees knew me, so as soon as I appeared, they’d realise something was up. Like Devi did, rushing up to Kirin and coming to a comically clumsy stop when he spotted me. “Hello, cockface,” I said pleasantly. “Javen. Um.” He radiated guilt and fear, and I smiled to myself. Oh yeah, guilty as fuck. “Kirin, I—” “Not now, Devi. I’ve got business to deal with.” “Sure.” The little turd gave me another hunted, suspicious look and scurried off. “I don’t want you to insult him to his face, or in front of me,” Kirin said a little petulantly, but he wasn’t as pissed as I’d have been in his shoes. Interesting. “Too bloody bad. But now he knows I’m around, we need to move fast. Come on.” Behind the closed door of his office, I told him, “Your boyfriend is good for this. He’s spewing guilt all over the place.” “You don’t know it’s over the pendant. Please, Javen. Set aside your prejudice—” “Hah.” He flushed. “This is a mistake,” he muttered. “Yeah, it is. But I’m here now. I need the exact sequence of events and the work records of all the people who were in the building. Then I want to interview them all separately. Here, preferably.”

“What about searching the lab?” “This happened when? A couple of days ago? The thief’s had time to clean up and move anything they want.” “I sealed the workspace.” “Fine. But I want to talk to the people first. Tell me what happened.” “All right. It was just before noon. Jishnu Uin removed the evidence wallet from the secure repository, and put it on his table. Before he could open it, Jyoti called out for help so he rushed over to deal with the problem.” “Who’s Jyoti, and what was the problem? Was it real?” “Jyoti Hiranya, one of the junior techs. She’s new, uh....” “Since you fucked me over, yes. And the problem?” “A centrifuge began to emit smoke. She shut it down, but it gave her a bit of a fright.” “And what caused that?” “Jishnu couldn’t tell. We sent the machine to be serviced. He spent some time reassuring her and helping her sort out recovering the tubes and so on. When he returned to his worktable, the wallet was gone. He looked around for it, and when he couldn’t find it, called me.” “Elapsed time since he left his desk?” “Uh...at least half an hour. Obviously he didn’t expect to be gone so long or he’d have locked the wallet up again.” “Obviously.” Kirin glared. “You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” “One of your employees is a thief. They’re lying to you. You sound like a gullible idiot. Don’t expect me to agree with your assessments. I’m here to deal in facts.” “Like my lover being a thief when you have no evidence.” “My empathy tells me he’s feeling extreme guilt. That’s a fact. Now can we move on?” My suspicions immediately centred on this Jishnu and the junior tech because an equipment failure just at that moment was awfully convenient for our thief. But the table wasn’t isolated and three other staff had access to it. It might have been opportunistic, though if that were the case, the thief had to have some way of knowing what was in the wallet, or have enough time to look it over. “What searches did you do and did you check everyone as they left the building?”

“At first we thought the thing had been mislaid, so the staff all joined in to look under tables, in drawers, checking files opened that morning and so on. It’s quite a small wallet.” “So the thief had more than enough chance to cover their tracks.” “Um, yes. When we didn’t find it, I arranged for everyone to be searched on departure. The wallets are tracked from room to room, but—” “It’s probably not in the wallet any more. Is it still showing on the system?” “No. Uh, the tracking device can be deactivated by someone who knows what they’re doing.” “And that would be....” “Everyone in the building,” he confirmed miserably. “I trust people, you see.” “Yeah. You might want to unlearn that habit, same as I did.” “Javen—” I held up my hand. “Save it. Right. Let’s talk to these people. Jishnu, then Jyoti, then they need to be.... Damn.” “What?” “Your security people. They were around at the time?” “Yes.” His expression changed as he worked it out. “Oh damn.” “Exactly. Should have called the police, Kirin.” “I couldn’t.” “Then this is what you end up with. I need the people I talk to, to remain isolated from the others and each other. Or at least somewhere they can’t compare notes. Who can you trust completely, and who wasn’t in the building at the time?” “Payal. My manager. You remember her?” “Sure. Call her in.” It was always possible that Payal was working with a confederate, but Kirin’s stupidity had compromised matters so much, no one was in the clear. None of this was ideal and only reminded me of my unwanted civilian status. But Payal, who I liked and trusted and who didn’t give off any suspicious emotion, understood what we wanted without needing elaborate explanation. She’d babysit those I interviewed until the process was done. It was bound to cause comment and resentment, but I didn’t have a lot of choice here. Jishnu strode in, and did a double-take when he saw me. “Javen. I thought...um, nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I lied. I’d never cared for him particularly. “Jishnu, Kirin asked me to help him find this pendant, so I’ll be talking to everyone in the building at the time. I’m no longer with the police, so you don’t have to talk to me. But you probably realise how serious this is.” I kept speaking in a smooth, reassuring voice, but inside, excitement rose as I sensed the massive anxiety and fear coming off him. He had something to hide. What? “Yes, and I don’t mind talking.” He shifted nervously. “I already told Kirin everything. We looked everywhere. I mean, I knew I was the obvious suspect.” “You believe it’s been stolen?” “There’s just no way it could be an accident.” “Did you see anyone near your table? Do you suspect anyone?” “No. I was totally absorbed in helping Jyoti. I told you,” he said to Kirin. “What was wrong with the equipment, exactly?” “I don’t know. I smelled the smoke she saw, but there was nothing obvious. I logged it and called the maintenance contractor.” “And that’s it?” “Well, I unplugged it and walked it down to Dispatch.” “Right. Any background in mechanics, Jishnu?” The anxiety spiked. “A little. A couple of units of electronics, very basic, at university. I found it boring. What’s this to do with the pendant?” “Nothing. Just curious. Okay, that’s it for now.” “Jishnu, could you go to Payal’s office?” Kirin said. “We’re going to reassess security measures and she wants to talk to you about it.” “Sure.” Jishnu shot me a dark look, and left. His relief just added to my suspicions. He thought he’d put one over us. “Well?” Kirin asked. “He knows something, but it’s too early to know. Call Jyoti in.” I sat up in surprise as a tall, pretty banis woman wearing a protective white coverall walked in. I hadn’t realise Kirin employed any indigenous staff. “Hello, Jyoti,” he said. “Please take a seat.” She gave off a little fear and anxiety but nothing like Jishnu—more what I’d expect from someone in a new job facing an unexpected interview with the boss. Strangely, she made my head tingle a bit. Maybe because she was banis? I didn’t know.

I gave her my little speech about helping Kirin and how she didn’t need to talk to me. “I have nothing to hide, sir. But I didn’t see anything either.” “Well, tell me what you did see, and if you noticed anyone walking around while you were talking to Jishnu. Start with the equipment. What happened?” “I started the centrifuge and a few seconds later, smoke came out of the base, near the motor. I yelped a little, and Sri Uin came over to see what was wrong.” “He said you called him over,” Kirin said. I frowned at him for interrupting. Her anxiety jumped a little. “Uh, I can’t remember. I might have. I wasn’t really paying attention to who else was around just then.” “Go on,” I said. “He came over....” “I’d turned the machine off, of course, and he lifted it up to look. By then the smoke had stopped. He told me not to worry and that these things happened. He said it was best to have it looked at and took it away.” “Okay. So while you were talking, did you notice anyone walking around the lab area?” “I definitely saw Sri Terben. He smiled at me.” Devi would, the little creep. “Anyone else?” “I don’t remember anyone else. The place was quiet because it was lunchtime.” “I understand. Did you take part in the search afterwards?” “Yes. Everyone did.” “Right. Jyoti, do you like Sri Uin?” Her head came up, and I felt a flash of her anger. “Yes.” “Everyone else here?” “Yes, sir.” She was lying. “Not many of your people working in this field.” “No, sir.” “Okay. Well, that’s all for now.” Her nostrils flared as she left the room. She was furious with me. Didn’t blame her, really. Kirin tapped his pen against his note pad impatiently, a habit that had always irritated me. “What was all that about, Javen? You don’t mean to imply she took the pendant out of resentment?”

“I was just curious. Trying to get a sense of the dynamics. For what it’s worth, I think she’s not the one.” “Oh good. She’s a hard worker. As you said, not many indigenous work in this area so I thought it was a good thing to encourage it. You know, help raise their standard of living.” “I know how saintly you are, Kirin. Let’s have the shithead next.” “Javen, please.” I ignored him, and after a little bit, he called the weasel in. Devi slipped into the room, still radiating guilt. “Sit down,” I snapped, “and tell us where you put the pendant.” “Javen!” “Stay out of it, Kirin. He’s guilty as hell, and I want to know why.” Devi sneered. “You’re not a cop any more, Javen. Kirin, do I have to answer his questions?” “No, but it would—” “Then I’m not going to. If either of you want to talk to me about this again, you can do it through my lawyer.” He flounced out, and I turned to my ex, grinning evilly. “There’s your man.” “All you proved is that you and he are no longer friends and that you’re really ungracious sometimes. Is that it? You’ll just lay it on him?” “Not yet. But I’m telling you, he’s hiding something. He was definitely at the scene at the right time, which is more than we have for the last two on your list. And you’re walking proof that living together doesn’t mean commitment.” He flushed. “You’re obnoxious.” “I’m pissed off. All right. If you insist. Let’s have the other two.” I’d met both Pritam and Waman before, which made Pritam’s reaction all the more interesting because he was even more guilty and anxious than Jishnu. Waman was calm and took it in his stride, even helpfully suggesting how he could look guilty if you squinted. I mentally crossed him off the list, which still left three—Jishnu, Devi and Pritam. Working together, or three separate reasons to be scared of me? I kept my assessment to myself as I dressed in protective overalls and hood since Kirin would probably tell Devi everything. If he did, he was only screwing himself, so what did I care? Kirin led me to the laboratory proper, explaining as we walked what the security

protocols were to protect the chain of custody. My real interest lay in the wallet’s tracking tag which had mysteriously switched itself off during the frantic search after Jishnu raised the alarm. “So how exactly do you deactivate them?” I asked. “Strong magnetism, or an electric charge. It’s a tracking device, not an anti-theft tool.” “Might want to rethink that.” The work area was open, and since my interviewees had returned to their desks, what I was doing was no longer a secret. I asked Kirin to clear everyone away from Jyoti’s table and everything between there and Jishnu’s workstation. He and Jyoti watched me from a distance, their mixed hostility giving me a headache I did my best to ignore. I told Kirin to stand at Jishnu’s table, while I stood at Jyoti’s. That gave me a clear line of sight, and a good view of anyone walking between the two points. Pretty much the entire lab was visible to anyone paying attention. Jishnu hadn’t mentioned Devi, but Jyoti had. Significant? I didn’t know. I wanted to search the work area around Jishnu’s table. “But we went over the entire thing three times,” Kirin protested. I ignored him. He was a forensic scientist. I was the cop, or had been. Thieves were my speciality, not his. No point in checking fingerprints. Everyone wore protective gloves, and the search would have compromised every surface. I donned gloves myself and went to work, while Kirin watched and chewed a hole in his bottom lip. I found the wallet in under a minute, stuck to the underside of the bottom drawer in the workstation. Kirin gaped as I held it up. “How did you...?” “Perps do this all the time with stolen goods, contraband, weapons.” I checked the packet. “The pendant’s gone. Damn, I wish you had image surveillance in this area.” “We don’t employ thieves,” he said, but didn’t even convince himself, let alone me. I straightened and handed him the wallet. “You can try to get prints and DNA off it. I doubt you’ll find anything. Tell me, did you do a search as people left every day since this went missing, or just the first day?” “Just the first.” “Terrific.” So the thief could leave the wallet hidden until the fuss died down and then sail out of the building with the damn pendant in their shoe. “I think it’s long gone. You need to talk to the police and your insurance company.” He moaned. “It’ll ruin us.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do any more. Okay...give it a day. Won’t make any damn difference. I want the names and details of the client and the court case, all the people involved. And I want to talk to Jyoti again, privately.” “Jyoti?” One of the technicians close by heard him and gave Jyoti a suspicious look. Great. “Yeah. I’m going to leave now. Send me that information, then ask her to leave in half an hour and to meet me at the chai house you found me at this morning. Don’t frighten her, and don’t make a fuss. She’s not a suspect, okay?” “Yes, I understand.” But he looked at her speculatively, as did a couple of others when they saw the direction of his gaze. I could have kicked myself for sowing seeds of suspicion about an innocent woman in the minds of her co-workers. “And keep your mouth shut, especially to Devi.” “I don’t think he’s talking to me right now anyway.” “I’m heartbroken, truly. I’ll call you later. Tomorrow, maybe.” He didn’t want me to go but there was nothing more I could do there for now and being around him was acid etching the glass shell of my soul. It gave me no pleasure to see him flailing so incompetently, though this was new to him, and honest citizens rarely did well when confronted with criminality. Seeing Devi’s face only made me want to punch it. I needed to get out of here. ~~~~~~~~ I waited for an hour in the chai house, and was on the point of calling Kirin to ask what was taking so long, when Jyoti walked in. I stood to greet her, but though she responded politely, her resentment was clear. “Chai?” I offered. “No, thank you, sir.” “Jyoti, I need to apologise. I didn’t mean to draw attention to you and before I say anything else, let me make it clear—I know you had nothing to do with the pendant going missing.” “Because you are matos.” “Huh?” “Matos. Empathic.” She tapped her head in case I didn’t get her meaning. “Sri Terben told us. Uh...when you and Sri Nel—” “Broke up. Yes. What a surprise. It’s not like it was our private business or anything.” Some small sympathy under the irritation. “It’s nothing surprising for me. Everyone

else was shocked.” “Is that why you haven’t told them you’re empathic too?” Her head jerked up. “How did you know?” “Well, the chances were good and while I was waiting, I did a little research about this tingle you give me in my head. Seems that’s something that happens when empaths are physically close. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” She sagged with relief. “Thank you. It’s difficult, being new and—” “The only banis in the building?” “Yes. They all think I took it,” she said, her anger flaring again. “I felt them, so suspicious. Even just after it happened. And now....” “I’m sorry. I made it clear to Sri Nel you’re not one of my suspects and in fact, that’s why I want to talk to you.” “Bit late now, isn’t it? Once you ruin my reputation, you think it will be so easy to mend it?” Her brilliant blue eyes bored into me above the weird high-angled cheekbones of her race. Her flame-coloured hair framed her features like a headdress, braided carefully and intertwined with fine purple ribbons. A beautiful woman, for a banis. “I’ll do what I can. If Kirin doesn’t support you, I can make his life merry hell.” “It’s too late. The chuma only need an excuse. Sooner or later, I’ll make a mistake, and they’ll be expecting it. Then I’ll have to leave.” She stared at me, willing me to contradict her. Sadly, she was probably right. “But if we find the thief, and with your help, you’ll be vindicated.” “A stranger naming one of their own as a criminal? They’ll hate me more, Sri Ythen.” “I’ve made a mess of this, haven’t I?” “Your people usually do.” She sighed. “But what is done is done, and the Spirit will give me strength to endure. So how can we find the thief?” “I found the wallet in Jishnu’s desk. Empty. Think back to the search. Not just who was where, who looked where, but how they felt to you. Did anyone’s emotions strike you as wrong?” “It was very hard to separate them. Ten people all frantic—” She put her finger on her lips as if something had suddenly come to her. “Someone wasn’t frantic?” “Hmmm. Sri Mlano was much more worried than anyone.”

“Pritam? Why would he care so much?” “I don’t know, but he was desperate. Even more than Sri Nel at that time, though Sri Nel is more worried now.” That didn’t fit at all. “And Sri Uin? How did Jishnu seem?” “I wasn’t paying that much attention because I wanted to find the pendant. I knew because it had gone missing while I was around, people would suspect me. Sri Mlano stood out though.” “And Sri Terben?” “He wasn’t there. He went to lunch and only returned when we were done. I think he was on his way out when I saw him.” “And his reaction to the news?” “Uh...annoyed. A little excited.” “Like....” “Like he is when he has gossip to share,” she said. “Sri Nel would sack me for saying that about his lover.” “I won’t repeat it.” I easily recalled Devi’s eager expression as he shared some private secret or other. “But not glee? Relief? Anything to indicate he’d pulled off a successful crime?” “No. Though I didn’t spend all that long with him, as I had to speak to Sri Nel about what happened.” “Okay, let me be blunt here. You were lying when you said you liked everyone you worked with. Who don’t you like?” She clasped her hands in her lap. “This isn’t fair, Sri Ythen.” “Then who would you suspect of this theft, if you had no evidence at all other than your instincts and your empathy?” “That’s even less fair. But we have mentioned them in this conversation.” “Devi? You don’t like him, do you?” She shook her head. “He’s very funny and is friendly to everyone, but he can be unkind and...he makes remarks about my people I don’t care for.” That was Devi all right. Once I’d thought him funny too, a spice in my life. When Kirin took up with him so suspiciously fast, I wondered how I’d been so ready to excuse the bitchiness which had always had such an undercurrent of cruelty. Unfortunately, Jyoti’s report made him an unlikely suspect, even if the little shit was hiding something.

“I don’t blame you for not liking him. Now, this is more speculative. If you wanted to sneak something out of the lab, and not take it out in your own hands, what can you think of as a way to remove it?” She frowned. “Well, I’d take it to Dispatch and post it. Some of the staff, uh, send....” “Private material on the boss’s bill? Not surprising. Damn. And no one checks the parcels going out?” “Not that I know of. Sri Nel would know.” “Yes. You’ve been really helpful, Jyoti. Incredibly so. Do you have to go back to work?” “Sri Nel told me to fake a migraine and take the afternoon off. I think Sushri Tarl knows it’s not the truth.” “Don’t worry, I’ll explain to Payal, or Kirin will. Let me order a taxi for you to go home. This is my phone number,” I said, writing it on my notepad. “I want you to keep your eyes, ears and empathy open, especially on those individuals we talked about. And I will make sure Kirin protects you, okay? He owes me big time for this.” “Thank you,” she said unenthusiastically, taking the piece of paper. “There is one thing. One of the people who uses Dispatch for personal purposes is Sri Mlano.” “But there are others.” “Yes.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, and I waited, but nothing came. “I’ll walk you out,” I said. I insisted on paying the taxi driver to take her to her door, since she was only here at my request. Then I started home, and called my brother as I walked. “I was worried about you,” Yashi said. “Are you on your way over to the clinic?” “Yes, I guess so.” I checked the time—almost six. “I’ll bring food.” “Great, I’m starving.” Surprisingly, so was I. My appetite had been lousy since I got out of the hospital, which drove my dear, sweet sister-in-law crazy. She spent more time pestering me to eat than she did her twins. Well, tonight, I didn’t need to be pestered. Maybe cop work—even this pretend kind—was what my stomach needed to feel perky again. ~~~~~~~~ I didn’t tell Yashi much about the case, except to say I thought it would be a poke in the eye for my faithless ex. He only grunted and said it was good to see me interested in

something, whatever the reason. But as we ate and talked about this and that, my mind turned over the facts I’d gleaned. By the time he’d finished his meal break, I knew I needed to go back to the lab. “I might be late home,” I told him. “Be careful and have fun,” he said, sounding just like our father. I grinned and told him that, which made him pull a face. I called Kirin at home. “I need to look around while the place is empty. Meet me there.” “I was just about to eat.” “Wrap your food in a chapati and come down. Leave the weasel behind.” “Javen.” “You’ve got twenty minutes, and I’m not joking about the weasel.” I called a taxi and arrived a minute before Kirin’s tidy red auto slid into the car park. The sight gave me a pang—how many times had we sat in that vehicle, making out at a beauty spot, or at the beach. I grew hard just looking at the damn thing. I’d thrown Kirin’s gifts back at his face as I left, but I’d forgotten how much the auto meant to me. Maybe I should have asked for it as part of my own personal ‘divorce’ settlement. “Couldn’t this have waited, Javen?” he said as he walked over. No sign of his supper. “No. Stop bitching. This is for your benefit, not mine.” “Sorry.” “And stop bloody apologising. You’re not really sorry.” His mouth opened to issue another meaningless apology. I cut him off with a glare. “What are you looking for?” he said as he let us into the quiet building. “Records. Dispatch, clients. Specifically anyone giving you work in the last two weeks, or that you sent items to. Not reports—packages.” He was completely confused and more than a little irritated. I ignored him and asked him to pull up the dispatch logs for the times after the incident with the centrifuge. “Look.” I pointed at the entry. “Wala and Faute, lawyers. Package sent the afternoon after the pendant went missing.” “So?” “Kirin, they’re Kajal Gemate’s lawyers.” His eyes went huge. “Her lawyers are behind this?” “That’s what I think. I want to know when they sent you the job and if you’ve worked

for them before.” It was all so obvious, but the trick was knowing to look for it. Wala and Faute, in the first work they’d ever offered the lab, had sent an inexpensive bauble for DNA testing two days after the pendant arrived. It had been signed out by Jishnu—and returned by him too. “Could he make sure he was the one to process an item?” I asked. “Theoretically, no, but he’s been here so long he does pretty much what he wants because he’s fast and does a good job. He’s done this out of turn, but it’s not the first time. But why would her lawyers contact him?” “I don’t know but I bet there’s a connection. Maybe they did work for him or a friend. He has to be the one, Kirin. It’s the only explanation that fits all the evidence. He was the only one with access to the wallet at the crucial times, and the one who had the obvious means of dispatching the pendant without suspicion.” “The centrifuge?” “A smoke device on a timer, then he waited until a new, inexperienced employee was almost alone in the building with him before setting it off. I’d have to contact your repairers to be sure but I bet that centrifuge is in perfect working order.” Kirin shook his head. “I can’t believe it. He’s worked here from the beginning. Why would he betray me like that?” “You want me to answer that, lover?” He flushed. “No. So the others are clear? Devi and Pritam and Waman?” “Waman isn’t a suspect. Pritam...may have other reasons to be guilty. I suggest you do a bit of digging. Uh...I think he’s doing something dishonest. Small or big time, I don’t know, but apparently he was frantic to find the pendant, possibly because he doesn’t want the police poking around. I don’t have any evidence but my gut says he’s up to something.” Kirin nodded unhappily. “And Dev—” Before he could finish, the weasel himself walked in. We blinked at him in surprise. He’d clearly come down in a hurry, dressed without his usual care and his artfully cut glossy hair an untidy mess. “Devi, what are you doing here?” Kirin asked. He put his hands on his hips and glared. “That’s what I want to know. What are you doing here with him?” “Oh that’s funny. Fucking hilarious. You’re jealous?” I sneered. “Please. I wouldn’t take either of you with a kilo of first grade nixum.” “That’s why you’ve turned up here, turning everything upside down and using every

opportunity to denigrate me, is it, Javen? Because you’re so uninterested in Kirin now?” I stalked towards him, furious, and he backed away, really afraid. I outweighed him and overtopped him by a head. More than that, I knew how to use my body for evil and he didn’t, and I had real reason to hurt him. I forced him up against a wall. “You think by throwing a hissy fit, you can hide what you’ve been up to, don’t you? You came down here because you’re afraid we might find out what you’re hiding. What you’ve been so guilty about. Did you forget why Kirin broke up with me, cockface? I know what you feel. I know you’re hiding the truth. So what is it? Where’s the pendant? Why did you steal it?” “I didn’t! Kirin, I wouldn’t!” “Stay the fuck out of this, Kirin,” I warned without turning around. “If it isn’t the pendant, what is it? Tell me, you little bastard.” I raised my hand and he cringed, even though I had no intention of giving him any excuse to call the police. “You can tell me now or you can tell my nice former colleagues, none of whom would be particularly thrilled to have someone like you screw over a fellow officer. I’m the son of the regional governor, Devi. I can make shit stick like you would not believe. So talk! What did you do?” “Nothing! I didn’t steal the pendant! I....” “What? Spit it out or I’ll smack it out of you.” Kirin murmured my name but sensibly didn’t interfere. Maybe he wanted to know the truth too. “I didn’t steal. It’s nothing to do with that. It’s about you and uh, him.” “Yeah? So what did you do? Let me guess. You’ve had your eyes on him for a while, right? Pretending to be my friend, cosying up to Kirin?” He nodded, which surprised me. I never thought I’d get him to admit it. “What else? Badmouthing me?” “No! Of course not.” “Yes, you did,” Kirin said. I felt him close behind me. “I remember now. All that talk about Javen’s empathy.” “I was just being sympathetic,” Devi said, but the guilt was back. And fear. “I bet,” I said. “I bet you were such a comfort to poor, poor Kirin. I noticed you never came near me. Afraid I’d find out what you were doing?” “I wasn’t doing anything.” “We talked for hours,” Kirin said, anger rising. “After I heard about Javen’s empathy being triggered and him having to leave the police force. You were over at the house all the

time. I thought you were trying to help, but all you talked about was how empaths can know all our secrets and that’s why the law had been changed. How hard it would be living with one.” I slammed the wall next to Devi’s head, making him jump. “How subtle, cockface. How charming.” He pouted, which looked ridiculous on him and in the situation. “I only told him the truth. I was right. You can’t be trusted. Look what you’re doing now.” “Exposing you? First time since the shooting I’ve been glad I’ve got this power.” I stepped away in disgust, as he folded his arms and failed to meet our eyes. “You’re a prick. I never cheated or lied to anyone, empath or not. But you did.” “Because I love Kirin! I appreciate him more than you ever could, you uncouth cop.” “Maybe. But he wasn’t yours and you had no right.” “He’s not yours any more. Kirin, tell him.” “Tell him what? That you played both of us? Get out of my sight, Devi,” Kirin said, his voice rough with emotion. “Kirin, we can talk—” “No, I don’t think so. Just get out.” Devi slid along the wall, and left the room at a half-run. I turned to face my shamefaced ex. “You don’t need to say it,” he said. “I was a fool.” “Yeah. We both were. So I guess I’m done. You know who the thief is, and we can probably get him to confess tomorrow.” “But if the pendant’s gone, I’m still screwed. I can prosecute Jishnu, but I can’t save our reputation.” “I think I know a way to do that. Let’s talk to Jishnu, and then I’ll let Shrimati Gemate know that the governor’s son would like to pay her a call.” His eyes widened. “You’d do that for me?” “No. I’ll do it for your innocent employees who deserve better. I’m still madder than hell at you.” “I don’t blame you. I can’t even blame Devi entirely.” “Can’t force the willing, right? You already believed all that crap about empaths, and you let him persuade you to do what you were half-inclined to do. So much for loving me.” “I did. I do,” he whispered. “I made a terrible mistake. Javen....”

I cut him off with a slicing motion. “I don’t want to talk about it. Close up, and you can give me a lift home.” We rode to Yashi and Tara’s house in silence, me trying to ignore Kirin’s churning emotions and the headache they’d given me, and him thinking about who knew what. I didn’t envy his situation but at least part of it, he’d brought on his own head. At least he still had his job, his career. His home. And this auto. He pulled up outside the house and cut the engine. “So...see you in the morning?” “First thing. Pick me up on your way through, okay?” I put my hand on the door to open it. “Javen.... We really should talk. A lot’s happened, and I was so very wrong.” “It’s too late, Kirin. You broke it, and it can’t be mended.” “Can’t it?” He put his hand on my thigh. “I care about you. I never stopped. I just freaked out.” “Yes, I remember. I could hardly forget.” “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I really am sorry. I was wrong in every way and about everything. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but I hope one day you will forgive me.” How long had I hoped for him to apologise, to admit he was wrong? And yet to hear him say the words meant nothing now. It was over. I wouldn’t go back, and he wasn’t asking for me to. Everything was poisoned, dead. “One day. But not soon. What will you do about Devi?” “He’s destroyed my trust in him. I can’t see how we can go on. I should have listened to you.” “Yeah. Not exactly an unbiased witness though, am I?” “No. But you spoke the truth. Javen, can’t you tell how I feel right now?” He cupped my face and I let him turn it to him. In the low light, in this auto, so many memories flooded back, from when we were first in love, randy as bulls, besotted and amazed at finding each other. Where had that all gone, that passion? Blasted out of me by a gun and Kirin’s words. “I know how you feel. I don’t know how I feel.” “Don’t you want me a little?” A little? If my cock was making the decisions, I’d have thrown him back and fucked him, family house or not. I was hard, and yeah, I could give him what he wanted, what he was so unsubtly hinting about with his hands and eyes. I leaned closer, wondering if I should let lust carry me where reason wouldn’t, but as he came closer to meet me, I

stopped, then brushed his hands off me. “I can’t. You destroyed the trust, Kirin. I’d hate myself, and you, if I ignored that.” I didn’t need empathy to read the disappointment and sadness in his expression. “I can’t exactly blame you. Javen, I owe you a lot and I will do whatever it takes to be your friend again, even if we can’t be lovers. I’ll be the man you thought I was. I won’t ever let you down again.” “Won’t get a chance.” But as he winced, I added, “To have you as a friend would feel good. Just...don’t push it.” “I won’t.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Good night, and thank you.” “We’re not done yet, and you still have to face Devi.” He grimaced. “Yes. Part of the penalty for rank idiocy.” “See you tomorrow. Call as you’re leaving your place.” I stepped out of the auto and he drove off. I didn’t go inside immediately, wanting to appear calm before I faced the family. Was this the closure I needed, or a false start? I was still alone, and without a job, and kicking Devi in the teeth hadn’t felt anything like as good as I thought it would. I didn’t get off on hurting people and never had. So rent-a-thug work was out as a career, for a start. I needed a hug, and there were twins inside the house who had any amount of them for their broken down uncle, so I went in search. Sometimes, the only solution was to wait for things to improve on their own. ~~~~~~~~ Kirin picked me up just before eight. “I hope you realise this is the earliest I’ve been out of bed in months,” I grumbled as I climbed into his auto. His eyes were tired, and his voice sounded harsh like it did when he hadn’t slept well. “I’m aware of the sacrifice. Uh...Devi’s gone. He left me a resignation note, took a few essentials and told me where to send the rest.” “Not surprising. You’re not as crushed as you could be.” “No. Which says it all, really.” “Mmmm.” I didn’t want to talk about the weasel. “We need to record the interview with Jishnu, so we’ve got proof if you need to go to the police. He could get nasty about this, if you sack him.” “I know. What about Kajal Gemate?” “Calling her now.”

Shrimati Gemate’s assistant was surprised to hear from Governor Ythen’s son, but of course Shrimati Gemate could find time to see him. Would just before lunch suit? It certainly would. I closed the call, and found Kirin looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “That’s only the second time since I met you that you’ve used your father’s position for personal reasons,” he said slowly. “The first time was last night, with Devi.” “Well, I don’t usually like to remind people about it. Besides, I’m a bit of an embarrassment to dear old Dad. He and Mum pretend they keep us kids out of the spotlight for our own privacy, but really it’s because they don’t want to admit too publicly they have a cop in the family. And certainly not a biracial ex-cop.” “They ought to be proud of you.” “Yeah, you’d think.” Didn’t want to talk about that either. The recording equipment, normally used for training and some promotional purposes, took very little time to set up and then Kirin called Jishnu into his office. This time, Jishnu was more afraid than guilty when he saw me. He knew the game was up, but he still tried bluster. “Kirin, do I need to call my lawyer? This is verging on workplace harassment.” “Sit down and shut up, Jishnu,” I snapped. “We know you did it. We found the wallet where you hid it, and the dispatch record where you sent the pendant back to Shrimati Gemate’s lawyers, and when I speak to the centrifuge repairers and confirm there’s nothing at all wrong with that unit, it’ll be brought back so Kirin can run some tests on it. I’d bet my investments that he’ll find the residue of smoke-creating chemicals, and probably even signs where you attached the remote trigger to the motor. So all I really want to know from you is why? How much did they pay you?” His face drained of colour. “You can’t prove anything!” “Wrong. We have more than enough to call the police in, and once they do and once they talk to Shrimati Gemate and examine your phone logs and your bank records and do all the things that as a civilian I can’t do right now, you’ll be prosecuted as a thief. You’ll never work again, not in this field and likely in no other. So you have a choice. Tell the truth in full, then resign quietly and leave, or be exposed as the criminal you are.” His eyes darted back and forth between us. Kirin stared back, implacable and angry. From me, the man would see no pity for I had none. I loathed thieves. “It’s not an openended offer, Jishnu,” I said. “Talk, or Kirin calls the police.” His capitulation came quickly after that. “All right. They didn’t pay me anything.

They’re helping me out with a legal problem.” “Which is?” “Um...I’m getting divorced from my husband. He’s wealthier than me and can afford really good lawyers.” “I don’t think Wala and Faute are exactly what you’d call ‘really good’ anything, except crooks. So you admit to setting off the smoke device, concealing the pendant and secreting it from the building in a parcel dispatched to that firm? Say it, Jishnu.” “Yes, I admit it,” he said sulkily. “What more do you want?” “A signed statement admitting your guilt, a resignation without notice, and then your departure,” Kirin said. “No one needs to know about this except us, unless you cause me any trouble. Don’t expect a reference and if you contact Wala and Faute about this, I’ll call the police and let them rip you to shreds.” Jishnu typed out the two documents and signed them, with me as a witness. Kirin called his security guards and had him escorted from the building, his personal belongings to be sent on later. When Jishnu departed, Kirin rubbed his forehead. “He’s been with me so long. I’ll have to speak to the staff about it.” “Do that, and if Pritam’s hiding something, which I’m sure he is, that’ll give him a false sense of security. I’ll contact the repair firm just to confirm what I suspect and have them send the unit back. Do the chemical testing, okay? He could still repudiate the statement, and he’s only the little fish. I want to net Gemate, and the stronger our proof, the tighter the net.” “I understand.” He looked so miserable, I actually felt sorry for him. But I couldn’t make him feel better. I could only stop him losing his livelihood, or I hoped so, anyway. Meeting Kajal Gemate was my first excuse to get cleaned up properly in months. I pulled out the outfit I’d last worn to Yashi’s wedding, and a silky scarf Tara had given me for my birthday years ago. I’d much prefer to be wearing my police uniform for something like this. I felt naked without it and my gun. Not that I expected to need a weapon but I missed the weight of it. I missed a lot of things. Shrimati Gemate lived on a frankly disgustingly lavish estate just outside Hegal’s city limits. From my reading of the divorce case, the actual squabble was over the pre-marital financial agreement which would allow her fifty percent of her obscenely wealthy husband’s property and a hefty lifetime annuity in the event of divorce—except in the case of her infidelity. And infidelity was what the pendant was alleged to prove. No wonder she was desperate to stop Kirin testing the thing.

I’d never met the woman, but she and her husband were part of the elite crowd my parents moved in so effortlessly—and which bored me to tears. News media carried their pictures, reported on their doings, and the Gemate divorce had been seized on with glee. Even I, who avoided gossipy news reports, couldn’t help but hear about the case. Kirin had been incredibly unlucky to be caught up in it. A tidily uniformed banis maid led me into Shrimati Gemate’s sitting room. The lady herself, splendidly bedecked in shimmering yellow and glittering gems, rose to greet me. “Sri Ythen. What a pleasure to meet you.” “Same here, Shrimati Gemate.” Close up, she showed the strong bone structure and good skin she was famous for. The strong natural UV shield on Uterden was kind to the looks of older people, but not to their bones unless they took care. She obviously did. If her dark hair was dyed to hide the grey, she clearly paid more for her hairdresser than I did because it looked natural to me. “Do take a seat. Chai, or something stronger? I have some rather lovely wine that came in on the latest ship from back home. A truly extraordinary vintage.” Wine from Kelon? Some people had more money than brains. “No thanks. Actually, I’m here on some personal business. Something that might not be suitable for uh....” I tilted my head towards the maid. She snapped her fingers at the woman, who bowed and slipped out silently. “Now we’re quite private. How can I help you?” “Well, you can give the pendant back you abstracted illegally from Kirin Nel’s laboratory, and you can also file a statement of non-contention in your divorce case.” She sat up straight. “And why would I do that, young man? What are you talking about?” “The pendant, Shrimati Gemate, with your lover’s sexual fluids on it. I have a sworn statement from the employee at Sri Nel’s laboratory your lawyers paid to steal the pendant. If Sri Nel goes to the police, it’ll get very ugly.” She recovered fast from the shock, I had to give her that much. “You have nothing to tie anything to me. Get out.” “Really? You think your lawyers will take the fall for you? You think no one in the firm will admit they handed it back to you and that it was your idea in the first place?” “I’ll take that chance.” “As you wish. So Sri Nel will go to the police, this house will be torn apart looking for

the pendant, which I know you have, and in the meantime, your husband’s lawyers will go to the judges in the case and inform them of what’s happened. You’ll lose the case and be prosecuted for contempt, perjury and probably perversion of justice. You won’t just be poorer, Shrimati Gemate. You’ll be a criminal, possibly face prison time, and your reputation will be mud.” She sniffed. “People like me don’t go to prison.” “Yes they do. You won’t be the first rich bitch I’ve helped put away.” Her mouth narrowed at the insult. “Stop playing. We hold all the cards, and the best you can hope for is to come out with some dignity and a reduced settlement, which is probably more than you deserve.” She slapped me, hard. I laughed in her face. “You’ll have to fight harder than that in prison, lady.” I gripped her skinny wrist as she swung again. “Now watch the talons. You can slap, but draw blood and you’ll find out how much self-defence I learned as a cop.” She shook me off and stood. “Get out of my house.” “Not without the pendant. Or you can call the police and I’ll tell them all I know. An ex-cop, not to mention the governor’s son, would make a pretty credible witness, don’t you think?” Her rage made my head ache like hell and I could see her mind furiously running through the alternatives. I’d left her with almost nothing, and no choice that wouldn’t leave her worse off. “If I give you the pendant, what guarantee do I have you won’t simply give it back to my husband’s lawyers?” “I will. But because you’re going to end the case, no official confirmation you were sleeping around on your husband needs to be filed with the court. Sri Gemate wants to finish this, I’m certain. Make him an offer to settle and go quietly, and no one has to be troubled any further. You already have money, Shrimati Gemate. Better what you have than going to prison and be branded a criminal.” “You loathsome little man. I’m so glad I never voted for your father’s party.” “I’ve never voted for it either. The pendant?” I followed her to her enormous bedroom, and a walk-in dressing room nearly as large as Yashi’s whole house. I pulled on protective gloves and waited for her to hand me the jewel—an exquisite piece of inlaid purple Garkon gemstone, set in red jobold. Easy to see why she treasured it. “I’m sure it will find its way back to you,” I said as I slipped it into an evidence bag and sealed it.

She stamped her foot. “Now get out and never return.” I carefully refrained from grinning. “My pleasure.” I didn’t waste any time jumping in my auto and driving away, half worried the old dear might send minions after me. Upsetting rich and powerful people wasn’t a regular pastime of mine and my heart raced until I was well clear of her estate, and back on the road to Hegal. I marched into the lab, feeling triumphant and more cheerful than I had in a long time. I walked into Kirin’s office, certain he’d be delighted at my success. But when I laid the pendant on the desk in front of him, he barely managed a smile and a “thank you”. I sat down. “What’s wrong?” “Pritam. Has been stealing for months and months. Equipment, chemicals, even data. Payal looked through the books and confronted him. He confessed in full. I’ve just sacked him.” He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “I trusted these people. Nurtured them, trained them. Respected them.” “And they kicked you in the nuts. I’m sorry, Kirin.” “Like you said, I shouldn’t complain to you about betrayal.” “No. But at least you acted out of real emotion. Fear, anxiety, maybe even grief for what we’d lost. Pritam and Jishnu did it cold-bloodedly. That’s so much worse.” “And Devi. Three employees in one day. What does it say for me?” I nudged the pendant towards him. “It says you’re a nice man with bad luck. Your fault was to trust too much.” “And not trust the one person I could really count on. I am so sorry, Javen.” He began to cry and I could only hold his hand across the desk and wait until he grew calmer. Yes, he’d fucked up. But never in my worst rages would I have wished this on him. Finally he sniffled, rubbed his nose and picked up the pendant in its bag. “What do I do now?” he murmured. “Run the tests you would have done, and send the pendant and results back to the client. Kajal Gemate will settle before they need to use them. No need to tell them what happened—just report what you find. Even if the DNA evidence has been compromised, she won’t dare bluff her way out. I made it clear she better not. It’s over, Kirin. You kept the lab and most of your people safe. So now you have to go on, for them.” “I need to revise procedures.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked up at me. “Want a job as a security adviser?”

“One day, maybe. But not now. But I can recommend a firm of ex-cops with an excellent reputation. Be honest with them about what happened.” He nodded, and blew his nose properly before sitting up. “You’re really good at this, you know. Not just finding the truth, but the way you analyse things. This is what you should do. Security, or private investigation. Something like that.” “It’s not the same as being a cop.” “It could be better though. I’m not just saying this, Javen. I know excellence when I see it.” “Yeah, you do. I’ll think about it. But now I need to push off.” “What about your fee?” I stood. “You’ve paid enough. I might need a favour or two in the future. I’ll call it in then.” “Anytime. Um...?” I waved and headed to the door. “See you around, Kirin.” I wanted to leave before I said something stupid, that I didn’t mean or would regret later. Neither of us needed the heartache that would bring. ~~~~~~~~ I walked out of the building not really sure where to go or how I felt. Yes, I’d won. Done what I wanted to do, even to the point of proving Devi was a creep. It just didn’t feel like a win though, and now it was over, I felt empty again. Like I had since the hospital. A tingle in my head. I turned and saw Jyoti watching me, sitting on the edge of a flowerbed, holding a mug of chai. “Hello.” “Good afternoon, Sri Ythen.” I went over and sat by her. “Big day at work.” “An unhappy day. Everyone’s upset.” “At you?” “Not specifically.” She bowed her head. “Thank you for finding the thief.” “I did it for everyone. You guys didn’t deserve to have your names ruined by him. Or by Pritam. Things should be more pleasant without Devi too.” “Yes. I’m not the only one who thinks so.” “So now you can get on with your job, and relax. Kirin will need all the good people he can get.”

“Yes. I intend to work hard. If I don’t, I know no one will make excuses for me.” The way they had for Pritam, she didn’t say but I heard loud and clear anyway. “You were a great help to me. That tip about Pritam pointed us in the right direction.” “I’m glad.” She shifted uneasily. “If people see me talking to you, they might...make assumptions.” “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” I stood. “Hang onto my number, Jyoti. I owe you and I repay my debts. You never know when you might need help.” “Thank you, but there’s no debt. May the Spirit guide you to happiness.” “Ah...thanks.” Overt displays of religiousness always made me queasy. “Good luck.” She smiled, but she was glad to see me go. She was right that people would talk if we were seen chatting. Banis women had enough of an undeserved reputation without me adding to it by being overly familiar. I hoped she’d do all right in Kirin’s lab. He really did encourage people and I hoped all this wouldn’t change that. He was a good boss, even if he’d turned out to be a lousy lover. No, that was unfair. He’d been a good lover too, but not up to the unexpected. He’d lived something of a charmed life, and this was definitely the worst upset he’d ever experienced. Maybe in a few years, with a few more knocks, he’d be more resilient. But I would have moved on by then. I’d already started. And now I’d have to see where the path led me.

Javen and the Lost Girl “So that’s what an investigator’s badge looks like,” Yashi said, fingering the etched metal. “Worth four hundred dolar, do you think?” “Maybe not, but the license to carry a weapon and access to official records is.” I took the badge back and slipped it into the special wallet it came in. “I feel like a pretend policeman.” “Different job. Cops protect and serve, and you’ll....” “Snoop.” “Well, yes.” He laughed. “You look disgusted.” “I’m not, not really.” I said with a shrug. “Just not looking forward to finding clients.” I’d looked at the advertising other investigators used, but the boastful claims and services listed put me off using them as an example. “Cops don’t need to go looking for people to help.” “Maybe you need to work on not seeing yourself as a cop any more,” my brother said. He picked up his case. “Anyway, I’m off to work, and we need you back by six for the kids. That’s still okay, right?” “Sure. I already put it into my packed schedule.” He grinned. “Thanks. See you later.” I poured myself more chai and contemplated my new career with no great enthusiasm. I’d let Kirin and Yashi bully me into applying for the investigator’s license because I knew they wanted the best for me and I had no better ideas for how to spend my post-police life. Now it was a reality, I wasn’t at all sure this was for me. The work, sure. I could do that. But being a self-employed operator, hawking myself out.... Kirin had given me some contacts, and Yashi wanted me to exploit the family connections, an idea I’d rejected immediately. The last thing I wanted was to involve my parents and their political chums in my work. I needed to do more research, I decided, procrastinating like a champ. So I decided to walk into town to visit the main library and do some browsing on the subject. There. That would take up a whole day and I could put off the problem of clients for that long. As I walked out into the humid weather that heralded the wet season to come in a couple of weeks, my phone went. “Javen Ythen.” I couldn’t make myself add ‘private investigator’ to the end. Too cheesy.

“Sri Ythen, it’s Jyoti Tejal Hiranya. Do you remember me?” “Jyoti...oh yes! Kirin’s lab. How are you?” “I’m well, sir. And you?” “Doing okay. What can I help you with?” “Do you recall you, uh, offered to do me a favour? Did you mean that?” “Sure. What do you need?” “It’s a very private matter, Sri Ythen. Would it be possible to meet to talk about it? Perhaps this evening?” “Not tonight. How about lunch?” She agreed, and named a time where she would meet me away from the laboratory. That meant I’d need my auto, so I walked back to the house to collect it, wondering what a quiet, respectable banis girl like Jyoti could want with an ex-cop. She looked as lovely as I remembered her, though sadder, with white ribbons instead of purple woven into her red braids. “How’s work?” I asked as I drove to my regular chai house. “Very good. I recently received a pay rise. Sri Nel is very happy with me, he says.” “Excellent. So this isn’t about work?” “Not at all, and I don’t want them to know about it. It concerns my family. A very great sorrow.” “I understand. Let’s talk while we eat.” Most of the customers in the chai house at this time of day were there only to collect orders and lunchboxes left in the morning, so we found a table easily. I ordered a vegetable dish for both of us, and then asked her to tell me what was happening, in her own time. “My aunt and uncle live on the Demultan Flats. They’re farmers, not wealthy people. Six weeks ago, their only daughter hanged herself.” Ouch. “I’m sorry. That’s why you’re wearing white ribbons?” White for mourning, same for Nihan and Kelon alike. “Yes. Though we believe in reincarnation, a life cut short in this way is still a great sorrow. She had lost her first child at birth two months before, and that’s why she killed herself, we believe.” “It’s very sad, but I don’t understand why you need my help.” She sipped her chai, discomfort and sadness colouring her actions. “My aunt and uncle

refuse to accept it was suicide because there was no note. The police have closed the case, there is no evidence of foul play, but yet they find no peace or acceptance. My parents and I have visited three times to try to help, but....” “Sometimes people channel their anger at the dead person into a supposed attacker, because they feel that’s more acceptable. What do you want me to do, Jyoti? I’m not a police officer.” Her pale cheeks coloured slightly. “No, but you are Kelon and you know how the police work. I thought...perhaps you could ask them to re-examine it? Or ask questions to see if there’s anything in what my aunt and uncle believe? I want to help them so much. Their pain is so great, and they are such good people.” “I can talk to them but I can’t promise I can help. Sounds more like they need counselling than anything else.” “I agree, but if we try this, then perhaps they won’t be able to deny the truth any longer.” “You believe your cousin killed herself?” She gave me a sad look. “I saw Sapna two weeks before she died. She was a very unhappy person, and grieved so much for her dead child. I believe suicide is the most likely answer.” “Yeah. So when do you want me to go see them?” “When is convenient? Ah, and you would charge...?” “Nothing. I told you, I owe you. And who wants to profit from misery?” She smiled a little. “This is how I feel too. Thank you, Sri Ythen. Tomorrow? I’m not working, and I will need to come with you as they speak little Kelon.” “I thought all your people spoke it.” “We learn it, yes, but among those who avoid dealing with the chuma, they become rusty. Where they live, the police are the only ones of your kind they ever see.” “So we’re always bad news. Great. Tomorrow’s fine. Let them know and I’ll pick you up. But no promises to you or them, okay? They might not like chuma cops, but no police officer would overlook a murder. If they say it’s suicide, then they have reason to think that.” “I understand.” “We might have to stay overnight. It’s a long way to the Flats. Would that be a problem?” I had no knowledge of that part of the north and no idea what kind of

accommodation was on offer. “My family will offer you hospitality, Sri Ythen. I can spare three days, if you can.” “I hope it won’t take that long, and please—call me Javen.” “Very well, Javen.” We ate our meal in silence, and I drove her back to work. Not the kind of case I would have chosen for my first, but I’d told Jyoti she could ask me to help her out, and I always kept my word. ~~~~~~~~ I barely had a chance to speak to Yashi and Tara before they went out for their anniversary meal, but felt reluctant to tell them what I’d been asked to do. The ill-feeling between various parts of my family and me over my empathy and what that meant for various assumptions regarding our ancestry, still rumbled on eight months after my shooting. While Yashi and Tara had wisely kept out of the arguments, bringing up the banis might cause tensions in the house I’d rather avoid. Besides, it was, as Jyoti said, a very private matter, and in the nature of an act of charity rather than any investigation. So when I left the next morning with an overnight pack, I only said I had arranged to visit a friend of a friend with a view to possible employment. Yashi, busy with the kids, wished me good luck and Tara told me to drive carefully. Jyoti had asked me to meet her at the downtown bus depot—I got the impression she didn’t want me to come to her home—and when I arrived, she was waiting with another, older woman. “Javen, this is my mother, Tejal Priti Sunil. She will come with us to assist with my aunt and uncle.” And act as chaperone, I had no doubt. “Good morning, Shrimati Sunil.” She bowed her head. “Good morning, Sri Ythen. Thank you for agreeing to help my brother and his wife. It has been such a sad time.” “No problem. Okay, everyone hop in.” The trip to the Demultan Flats would take five hours by road, but we could save an hour and a half by switching onto maglev transport for part of the way. My urban auto wasn’t all that suitable for rural roads and I hoped to make the journey without major damage to the vehicle. I’d never been in close proximity to banis women on my own before and the first hour of the trip felt strained, conversations dying almost as soon as they started. The fact I’d been a cop didn’t help, since the Nihan regarded Kelon police with suspicion and Kelon

cops didn’t deal with the indigenous population any more than they had to. That my passengers were intensely religious, and my people atheist by political and personal inclination, didn’t do a lot to make things easier either. Two of us being empaths and knowing exactly how wary the other was, only made it more painful. But Shrimati Sunil finally asked me about my family, and I said I lived with my twin brother and his wife who was a teacher. That gave us an opening, because banis twins were rare and of great fascination. Shrimati Sunil had been a primary school teacher for a number of years, though she had retired through ill health a while ago. She and Jyoti quizzed me enthusiastically about being an identical twin, and how my brother and Tara managed raising twins themselves. I heard a surprising amount about the different attitudes to child rearing among the banis. Only of theoretical interest to me, sure, but it helped the time pass. While we talked, I learned a little more about the suicide. Sapna’s husband was Kelon, something I gathered had caused a stir at the time, and the family had never accepted him. Sapna had been married for two years, and had been looking forward to her first child, her parents’ first grandchild, but she’d gone into labour prematurely while out on a farm visit. “She was all alone, and the baby arrived too fast,” Shrimati Sunil said. “The cord was wrapped around its neck, and the child choked.” I winced at the image. “Very bad luck, that was all, but she blamed herself. Why, I’m not sure, but grieving people sometimes aren’t rational. She hanged herself at the place where she gave birth, and where her baby died.” Sainted reason. “Which tends to support the idea that she committed suicide, don’t you think?” I said. “To my mind, yes. My brother won’t accept it. If only the girl had left them a note. She must have been too distressed to think of it.” In my experience, a suicide without a note was rare, but so far as I could tell, this was the only remotely suspicious aspect of the case. The note could have been mislaid or simply blown away if she killed herself outdoors. The local cops would have looked. I would have looked. When we drove off the maglev, the difference from urban Hegal and its wealth was immediately obvious in the poor condition of the roads, the rundown signs, the lack of lighting, and the lousy signal on my phone. “It’s something our people have complained of many times,” Jyoti told me. “But

upgrading the signal is apparently too costly for such a sparse population. Many farmers rely on radio communication instead.” “Radio? That’s primitive.” “Yes, but at least we can keep in touch. Everyone carries phones but half the time, we can’t use them.” City folk lived on their phones and comms and datalinks. How did anyone do business out here? I wouldn’t be surprised to find they still used tangible money too. The lousy roads weren’t the only striking difference from the city. As I saw my first dwellings raised high on stilts and connected by walkways, I gaped in amazement, and Jyoti laughed at me. “It’s called the Flats because the river floods every wet season. The water passes under the houses, and then people move around by boat. There’s raised storage for autos and farm equipment dotted between every few farms.” “What a way to live.” “Your people acquired the best land,” Shrimati Sunil said, with only the barest emphasis on ‘acquired’. “But they didn’t want flood plains. The land is very fertile but those who farm must put up with three months of inconvenience.” I’d better hurry up with my investigation, I thought, or all the evidence would be underwater in a month. The ugly brown houses looked liked ungainly water birds, picking their way through the flat landscape. But the land’s fertility could be seen everywhere I looked, with lush vegetation along every fence, and the fields themselves head high with crops, being harvested by hand and elderly-looking mechanical machinery in the field. Don’t ask me what they were growing. Plants are plants. I know people, not green things. I’d never been to this part of the country before. I never left Hegal except to visit my grandfather up in the Tudon Hills, but why would anyone who didn’t live in these Flats, want to visit? There was nothing here but farms. The mines were west of us, while my ancestors had ‘acquired’ the pretty land to the south of Hegal and other prime property elsewhere in the region and to a lesser extent, right across Medele. Our people tended to spend their leisure time where they could enjoy nice scenery without being troubled by redhaired locals. Jyoti’s family lived in a commune of ten or so houses on stilts—more a village than a farm. We pulled up under one of the houses and then climbed the tall narrow steps up to the walkway. “How do people manage who aren’t mobile?” I muttered, half to myself. “There is a mechanical elevator at each end of the settlement,” Jyoti said. “We look

after everyone, not just the fit.” I smiled and accepted the rebuke, but I still couldn’t imagine living like this, halfway between land and sky on rickety poles. “What about the farms with animals?” “Those are built on embankments. They’re the oldest structures in the region, the work of many people, over generations. There. You can see one.” She pointed to what I’d first thought was a small natural hill in the distance. “My cousin owns that farm. In the wet season, he gathers the herds into the barn and pens. He has to feed them from his stores, of course, until the water goes away. We all hope for a short wet season.” She was right about these people being poor. Though everything was clean and carefully mended, nothing that was new. The people who stood in doorways to watch the stranger’s arrival wore worn, patched lungis, shirts and shawls. Impeccably laundered and pressed clothes though. Strolling into the settlement in my tailored Kelon kurta pajama and with my family’s money behind me, I wondered if Jyoti found my sense of guilt ironic. Even the poorest relative I could claim lived in better housing than this. Jyoti’s aunt and uncle, both dressed in pure white, bowed as we approached their home. I imitated them, and Jyoti did the introductions. “Javen, my aunt, Aditi Varija Kartik, and my uncle Janak Priti Sunil. Aunt, uncle, this is Javen Ythen.” “Welcome to our home,” Sri Sunil said, through Jyoti’s translation. “Please come in.” The house was small, and the living area cramped enough with the five of us. There were two other people, young, solemn-faced men, standing against the wall, watching and not speaking. “My sons, Sri Ythen,” Sri Sunil said. “They have come to listen to what you can do for us.” “Let me bring you some chai,” his wife said, while we sat. I was directed to what looked like the best chair. A pretty young woman’s portrait, draped in white with flowers in a vase before it, held pride of place on a table at the side. Sapna, I guessed. Her brothers stood like an honour guard on either side of the picture. The atmosphere in this room was no less strained than that on the journey, the family’s grief overlain with suspicion of me and anxiety about what I could or would do. I welcomed Jyoti’s calmness among the dark emotions, but she had to be suffering same as me from the press of them on her mind. We waited for the chai to be served, and then I asked Sri Sunil, Jyoti translating, why he thought his daughter hadn’t killed herself. He covered his face, unable to speak, my question triggering waves of crippling grief in parents and sons. No one spoke while I surreptitiously rubbed the pain between my eyebrows, the spot

that sorrow always hit. His wife finally answered for him. “Our daughter would not have done this without saying goodbye. No matter how much pain she was in. She would have left a message. She loved us....” Her trembling voice broke, and Jyoti’s mother took her hand. “I’m sure she did, Shrimati Kartik. Sometimes notes go missing.” “We searched everywhere,” one of her brothers said, startling me. “Her room, around where...where she did it. Nothing.” “Okay. Let’s leave that aside for now. Who would have a motive for killing her?” A spike of raw hate and anger from the uncle, who glared at me. “That worthless piece of offal she married, that’s who.” Jyoti’s tone was calm as she conveyed his words, but I could almost translate without her, such was the force of his emotions. “And why would your son-in-law kill his wife?” “For money,” he spat. “Insurance, taken out the month before she died.” “Ah. The police...?” “Did nothing. They said there was no evidence of foul play. But that man was in debt and killed my child for profit!” Both aunt and uncle collapsed into tears again. I let Jyoti and her mother comfort them, while Sapna’s brothers watched me with dark suspicion. Insurance was a powerful motive, no doubt about it. But motive didn’t make murder. I needed to see the forensic report on the body, but if there had been defensive wounds or bruises, surely the local police would have investigated. When things were a little calmer, I asked the mother, “Tell me about the baby. What happened?” She wiped her eyes. “Sapna worked at Ranjit’s Equipment and Seeds. She was due to finish within the week, since she was but a month from giving birth. She was to come and stay with us until then....” She said something to Jyoti and bowed her head. “My aunt asked me to explain,” Jyoti said. “Sapna was making a routine call on a customer, delivering drenches for the man’s kolija herds. She stopped her vehicle when she felt contractions, thinking to walk them off. But it was labour starting. Her water broke and the baby came too fast. Another farmer who was walking on the road found the two of them and took her to the doctor but nothing could be done.” “Did she call for help?” “No phone signal.”

“Kina devale,” I said to the aunt. I’m so sorry. I knew very few phrases of Nihani but that one, all Medele cops learned. I turned back to Jyoti. “So nothing could have saved the child?” “Not out there. Even if the phone had worked, the chances of the doctor getting there in time to save the child were small. So he told us, anyway.” “And she killed herself at the same spot?” “Yes. A rope over a tree branch. She was not found until the evening, when her husband went looking.” Forcing someone to hang herself would be bloody difficult, and leaving no trace, impossible, unless the killer forced the victim by threatening someone they loved. It was possible, but not very probable. I kept my thoughts to myself. “I’ll need to investigate for myself. Speak to the police, look at medical reports. Some of the questions will be quite personal. Do you permit this?” Jyoti asked the aunt and uncle, and they nodded. “We want justice for our child,” the aunt said. I’d brought a printed authorisation pro forma, which I asked them to sign. I couldn’t force anyone to answer my questions but the police would have to give me what they had, thanks to my shiny new investigator’s license. “Okay. So I’ll ask around, see what I can find out, and return for supper. Jyoti, will I need you to speak to Sapna’s employer and friends?” “No, they speak Kelon well.” Good, because I didn’t think she’d really like to hear what I might have to ask. I sure wasn’t going to tell the girl’s parents either. ~~~~~~~~ The local police station had been built on one of the few areas of naturally raised land in the area, augmented by earthworks to raise it even higher. I couldn’t imagine what policing was like during the wet season. Criminals might stay indoors but rural police had so many other duties. A middle-aged police officer greeted me politely and with some surprise as I walked into the little foyer. “Good morning, constable. I’m Javen Ythen, formerly Sergeant Ythen of the Hegal force. Medically retired.” He shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, sergeant. Constable Girilal. Can’t imagine what brings you out to the Flats. We don’t get many visitors.”

“No, I bet. I’m doing a favour for a friend of mine, cousin of Sapna Sunil.” “You mean Sapna Aditi Janak? The poor girl who hanged herself?” “Yes, that’s her. Her parents are still pretty upset. Convinced themselves it wasn’t actually a suicide.” He shook his head. “I know. I went over it and over it with them, and we searched high and low for a note, but the doctor who did the autopsy was certain as he could be it was suicide. I didn’t know what to do for them. It’s the first suicide we’ve had in the area since I took up this position twenty years ago, and we’ve never had a murder in that time either. What do you think you can do for them?” “Only double check that everything’s been done that should be—which I know it has,” I added quickly because I didn’t want to insult this man. “It might not do any good but at least they’ll know I tried. Can I look at the reports? I’m a licensed investigator and they’re my clients, officially.” He checked my ID and authorisation because he might be rural but he wasn’t sloppy, then pulled out the file. “Just to warn you, the images are upsetting.” “I’ve seen hangings before, unfortunately.” “Well I hadn’t, and I hope never to again. The poor husband, seeing her like that. A terrible thing.” He readily gave me copies of the reports, including from the surprisingly thorough autopsy, and when I asked about Sapna’s baby, he produced that file just as happily. “I felt bad for that family. They’re honest people. Known them all my life.” “You grew up here? But you’re Kelon.” “Half,” he said with a grin. “No pure bloods here. Mother is Nihan, my father’s threequarter Kelon. There’s been a biracial community here for about a hundred years. Every so often someone marries in from Jirnin Rocks or thereabouts. Most of the indigenous you see are mixed too.” There wasn’t anything in his features to indicate mixed heritage—his hair, eyes and skin brown like mine—but then there often wasn’t. “The family said her husband was Kelon.” “Nope, he’s like me. Can’t tell by looking but he’s mixed, grew up here too. But he uses a Kelon-style name and went to mechanic school in Usartel, so a few folks think of him as more Kelon than Nihan. His family were Reformed Deists, so the indigenous udawatha don’t like to claim him. It’s a bit complicated,” he added, scratching his jaw.

“Sounds it. So you investigated the deaths of mother and child, and nothing raised your suspicions?” “Not a thing. I’m very sorry for the family, but I couldn’t see it as anything but bad luck.” “No. Do you think this Doctor....” I squinted to read the complicated signature. “...Nihar, would speak to me about this?” Girilal chuckled. “Sure he will. Doc Nihar can talk under water. Once you get him going, you won’t stop him. Just leave yourself plenty of time. He loves company.” I grinned. I knew the type. “Sure. Thanks for the help, Constable. If I want to find Ranjit’s Equipment and Seeds, and the husband’s business?” “Both down that road back towards Hegal. The seed store is on the left fork on the Usartel road, and Sri Kamlesh’s place is before you get to that junction, on the right. You’ll see them a way off. They’re on raised land, like this. The doctor’s clinic and house is behind the station.” “Amazing community you have here, Constable.” “Thank you, sir. We do our best.” Since I was there, I figured I may as well see if the doctor had time to talk to me. I could spare an hour or so, if he did. Standing outside the station, I appreciated how massive a project it would have been to build such an extensive raised area with proper drainage, and strong enough to withstand yearly flooding. The height gave me a view down to the river, brown and sluggish. I imagined the land below the hill covered with muddy water, and the foetid odour of damp and weed that even now, hung faintly in the air. Not my idea of a place to live. Like my grandfather, a family doctor, had done while he was still working, Doctor Nihar had his clinic attached to his house. An elderly auto sat in the garage, so I hoped that meant the owner was home. He was, just saying goodbye to a mother and toddler as I walked in. All three gave me wide-eyed looks of surprise. They really didn’t see many strangers around here. “Good morning, sir. Are you Doctor Nihar?” He looked to be my granddad’s age, short and spry, green eyes and high cheek bones a sign of his mixed race, and with a cheerful smile that invited trust even as he radiated a little suspicion of the stranger turning up so suddenly. A good doctor face. “I am, and who might be asking?”

The mother and her son left hastily. I waited until the door closed before answering. “Javen Ythen, from Hegal. Do you have a minute or five, doctor?” He looked around the empty room and grinned. “Oh, I think I can. Take a seat. Don’t have a receptionist today, but I expect it’ll be quiet now. All the rush is in the morning. What can I do for you?” “I’ve been hired by the family of Sapna Janak to enquire into her death. They’re not satisfied it was suicide.” “Well, now that’s going to take some time to talk over. Come over to the desk so I can spread the notes out for you.” If I’d thought I’d be able to talk about Sapna’s death right away, I was wrong. Before he’d discuss that, Doctor Nihar wanted to know what my job was, and how I’d left the force, winkling the fact of my empathy out of me, along with my family background and the fact Granddad was a doctor and my twin a vet. I had to explain in detail how I’d met Jyoti and the case at Kirin’s lab too. Only when he knew everything about me excluding my preference for topping and bottoming during sex, could I drag the conversation back to why I’d come. “Sapna? You did the autopsy?” “I did, and before you give me any nonsense about me just being an ignorant country doctor, my qualifications are just as good as any of those fancy pants in Hegal or Kardil or even back on Kelon. That girl killed herself, I’d stake my savings on it. Unless someone talked her into it by threatening someone close to her, she put the rope around her neck voluntarily. There were no drugs in her system, not a bruise on her, not a scrape or cut. No one knocked her out or held her down. You can check all my records and images, Sri Ythen. I sent them to a colleague at the University in Hegal and he agreed with me completely. I didn’t want to make a mistake with this.” His green eyes blazed with determination, and I doubted him not at all. “But you’d given some thought to the idea of murder?” “Well, sure I did. The poor lady had recently lost her baby, and postnatal depression is no joke, but suicide’s very rare out here.” “It’s higher than average among the banis in Hegal.” He made a sour face at me. “Because they live among you fellows, no offence. Being a minority, always being reminded of their place, puts a stress on people. Here, we’re the majority.” “You see yourself as Nihani?” “I’m udawatha, that’s the important thing. The Spirit doesn’t care what colour my skin

is. Nihan and Kelon all come from Niken originally. Genetically, there’s barely a speck of difference between you and me.” “I never really looked into it. I know we all came from Niken but that’s a long, long time ago.” “Over a thousand years for my people here on Uterden.” “But the paranormal ability....” “Ah.” He leaned in confidentially. “Fascinating history there. Goes back to before our people colonised this planet.” “Ah.” I started to wonder how quickly I could make a graceful exit. “I’ll send you some information on it with the files, if you like.” I smiled politely and humoured him. “Sure, that’d be interesting. Uh, but I need to visit Sapna’s husband before nightfall, so can I just ask about her child...the death was definitely an accident?” His erratic mind came back to the subject in hand. “Oh, now that’s a terrible thing. If she’d gone into labour with her mother there, or me, or anyone with any basic midwifery skills, the baby might have survived, but then again, it might not have. The fellow who found the two of them tried to resuscitate the baby, and of course I did, but the little one wouldn’t start breathing.” “How does that happen, exactly? I know exactly nothing about birth.” “The umbilical cord sometimes wraps around the baby’s neck while it’s still in the womb. When the baby comes out and needs to breathe, it can strangle unless someone can manage to loosen it or cut it, and even then the baby can die. Deaths from intrapartum asphyxiation are pretty rare these days, but they do happen, particularly when the woman gives birth unattended.” “How come she couldn’t loosen the cord?” “No way she could do it while she was pushing the baby out, and the young fellow who found her was too late to save it. I had to sedate the poor girl, she was so distraught. I did what I could to help her through her grief and I know her family supported her, but.... No, there was no murder in either case, Sri Ythen. Doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy. I hope you can convince the family to let it go. I don’t want to see any more people die, and when there’s a suicide in a family, the risk’s increased eightfold that someone else in the family will do the same.” I didn’t know that. “Are you helping the husband?”

He blew out his cheeks as he shook his head. “Spoken to him a couple of times, and I’d be happy to talk to him as often as he wants, but I don’t think he’ll ask. He’s an angry, grieving man, and Sapna’s family aren’t helping. They blame the poor fellow without the slightest reason. I hope you can help him too. You might do more good than I ever can.” “Do my best. Thanks for talking to me, doctor.” “Stop by again. I always like to talk to smart city folks. Makes me sharpen up.” I grinned and waved goodbye. The community were lucky to have him, even with his tendency to wander like a drunk all over a topic. What would happen when he retired or died, though? Doctors—even banis doctors—weren’t exactly queuing up to work in the boonies. Could I really stop someone in Sapna’s family killing themselves if I could prove she’d been murdered? Or if she hadn’t? Seemed to me the grief would be just as hard to bear even if they had someone to blame. My job was to find the truth. I’d have to leave it to people like Doc Nihar to deal with the psychological fall out. I’d missed lunch and it was now mid-afternoon. I hadn’t seen anywhere to buy food or even a cup of chai, but I didn’t feel I could just turn up at Jyoti’s family’s house and ask to be fed before I went out again. I’d just have to wait for supper. I had Sapna’s husband to visit. The raised area on which Nikhil Kamlesh’s house and business stood wasn’t as elaborate as that of the police station, but it was just as high. I figured a mechanic’s workshop would take a lot more moving than a household of people. No autos or tractors waiting outside, but I heard the sounds of metal upon metal from inside the shabby, darkened building. I walked over to the door and called. Eventually the hammering stopped and I yelled again. A man in dirty coveralls carrying a long metal tool came out of the gloom. “Yeah?” “Nikhil Kamlesh?” “Yeah. Who are you?” “Sir, I’m a friend of Sapna’s cousin, Jyoti. I’m helping her family—” “Get off my land. I ain’t talking to you or anything to do with them.” “I understand you’re angry—” “I said ‘get out’!” He raised the tool. “Don’t make me use this.” I pulled out my gun, and pointed it. “Don’t make me use this. Put it down, Sri Kamlesh. I just want to talk.”

He blinked in shock a few times, but then did as I said. “Who the hell are you?” “A private investigator and a former police officer.” “They tell you I killed my wife?” “Yes. Did you?” His face contorted. “Go ahead and shoot me. Go on.” “Now why would I do that, Sri Kamlesh?” “Because it’d feel better than living without my Sapna. Why did she do it? Why did she leave me?” He covered his face with one grimy hand. I lowered my gun, but kept it at my side. “Can we talk?” I said quietly. “I’m not here to accuse anyone. I spoke to Doctor Nihar. He knows she wasn’t murdered.” “I didn’t kill anyone! I’d kill myself before I laid a hand on her.” I put the gun’s safety catch on and pocketed it, then took him by the arm and led him over to a rusty metal seat near the workshop. He sobbed uncontrollably, and though I’d seen murderers put on a pretty good act before, he wasn’t acting. My empathy couldn’t be fooled. He hadn’t killed his wife. “Sorry,” he said, smearing his face with snot and tears as he used his sleeve to wipe it. “I try to keep it all bottled up but....” “Been tough, I bet, not having her people’s support. What about your family?” “Only me left. Dad died six months ago of a heart attack. Mum died when I was ten. I’m the only kid. Now Sapna is gone too.” “I’m very sorry.” “I tried, you know? I did what I could because I knew she wasn’t dealing with the baby dying, but everything I said made it worse.” “It’s very difficult dealing with someone that sick, Nikhil. Even people who are trained find it hard.” He nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t believe me. Not in his heart. “Funny thing is, a few days before she died, she seemed a bit better. A bit more peaceful. She even hugged me that morning before she went to work, told me she loved me and that she’d do better in future. I told her she didn’t need to do better. I loved her anyway. But she meant....” He stared off towards the river as tears dripped down his face. “Sometimes the decision to kill themselves makes people feel calmer,” I said. “Heard things like this a lot from families, friends. You couldn’t know.”

“Found her. I was the one, I mean. She looked...it wasn’t my girl. Don’t want to remember her like that.” “Don’t. Remember her the way she was before. What she looked like after, wasn’t her. She’d gone by then.” “You a believer, Sri Ythen?” “No. Are you?” “Not really. Was raised in one religion and married into another. I don’t figure any god worth the name would kill a baby and its mother for no reason. But I keep thinking, will she come back? Maybe I might meet her again. I’m only twenty-four. I could maybe see her and I’d know her....” I put my hand on his shoulder, my head aching like a bitch from his emotions, wishing I could somehow draw them out of him a little. But it was strictly one way, this talent, and about as useless as a paper chai pot right now. “Doc Nihar would be happy to talk to you, you know. He lost his wife a few years ago. Not the same, but...you need someone to help you.” He sneered. “I need to get out of this shit pile and go where no one spits ‘Kelon bastard’ and ‘Guko’ at me, or thinks I killed my wife because I don’t believe in the Spirit or the teachings of their self-satisfied bastard Seeker.” “You’re thinking of selling up? The family said something about insurance.” “You mean the insurance that doesn’t pay in the event of suicide? Sure. I killed Sapna for money I didn’t want at that price and wouldn’t get anyway. Her father’s an idiot.” “But you’re in some financial difficulties.” “Everyone here about is in ‘financial difficulty’. We ain’t exactly rich folks, any of us. But I didn’t kill my wife!” “Settle down. Nikhil, I’m an empath.” He jerked in surprise. “I know you’re not faking this. I can tell her family you didn’t do it.” “Fat lot of good that’ll do.” “Maybe. But that’s three people who know for sure you didn’t—Constable Girilal at the station, Doc Nihar, and me. The doc did say that he couldn’t tell if someone had talked her into it though—you know, by threatening someone she cared about. Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt her? Or hurt you?” His eyes went wide with disbelief. “Enough to kill her? You’re kidding. Not unless you count her parents, but they’d just run me over, not hurt her. Everyone loved Sapna. She

was sweet, and so gentle. Nobody killed her. I wish they had. Then I could hate them instead of.... Is it wrong I hate her for doing that?” He sounded so lost. “Don’t see how you couldn’t. But you love her too.” “Sometimes I just want to wake up dead. A lot of the time I feel that way.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Do me a favour, and go see Doc Nihar. Talk to him. Tell him about feeling that way. Don’t end up like her, thinking there’s only one solution. Even if you’re planning to move, talk to him.” “Why do you care what I do?” he mumbled. “I used to be a cop. I don’t want to see this tragedy become a worse one. Will you talk to him?” “Might. Will you really tell them I didn’t kill her?” “Of course I will. Thing is, they’re not really in their right minds just now. They want someone to hate too. They don’t want to hate her any more than you do. You’re the best target they have.” “If she’d just left a note....” “She might have. I’ll be looking for it. But she said goodbye to you, just...you didn’t realise. Don’t hate her for that.” There was nothing more I could do for him. If Sapna’s family hadn’t got this idea into their heads, they could have been support for him and he for them. What a damn bloody mess. ~~~~~~~~ Before I returned to Jyoti’s family, there was one more thing I wanted to do. Using Constable Girilal’s meticulous map, I drove to the place where Sapna and her baby had both lost their lives. I didn’t expect to find anything there, not now. But I wanted to have a sense of her, of what it had been like for her. Probably a bad idea—I already felt too emotionally involved in this—but I felt I had to. For the girl herself, and for her family. Nothing I could report to them would be good news. She would still be dead, and somehow they had to accept that. She’d chosen a pretty place to die. Sturdy trees—the kind that could resist yearly inundations—stood amidst lush grass and lanky plants with empty seed heads. Six weeks ago, they’d probably have been flowering. This would have been an oasis of beauty among the dull fields and stolid farms. One of the trees had fallen in the past, and while the branches were probably taken away for use on the farms, part of the trunk remained,

forming a convenient seat. The ground near it was trampled, the grass shorter than elsewhere, as if others had thought the same. I sat and wondered if Sapna came here often. Maybe to be alone, to think? Just because she loved her husband and her family, didn’t mean she was happy, even before the baby died. I looked up. Bedraggled ribbons adorning the branches of a nearby tree, and tied around its girth. White ribbons, for mourning. This was where she’d hanged herself. I didn’t believe someone had murdered this girl. Killing someone by forcing them to kill themselves was a crime so rare it bordered on the mythical, and why would a murderer choose a place with so much special meaning for the victim? Sure, I could be wrong. Maybe a psychopath lived with these people, and in a few months, another woman would die, but I doubted it. Not in a community where everyone knew everyone else, and a stranger caused every head to turn. Nikhil Kamlesh hadn’t done it, and he was the only likely suspect. I stood and dusted my hands. The sun was low in the sky, and I was hungry. Time to tell Sapna’s parents there was no conspiracy, no crime. Just the sad loss of two young lives. An ordinary tragedy they’d have to deal with, somehow. The two sons had gone who knew where, but otherwise the little sitting room was just as crowded and sombre as when I’d left it. Shrimati Kartik offered me chai, but unfortunately, no food. My stomach rumbled and I hoped supper wouldn’t be long in coming. Jyoti sat near me, apparently calm, but inwardly anxious. “What did you learn, Javen?” “Have you explained to your aunt and uncle that I’m matos?” She nodded. “Yes. To them, this is a good thing.” “Right. Well, I spoke to the constable and the doctor who did the autopsy, and I also spoke to Sapna’s husband. I went over everything carefully, and I talked to him for some time. He didn’t kill your cousin. He is grieving and angry, not guilty. He’s hiding nothing. Tell them that.” She did so, and provoked an angry reaction from the aunt, and growled words from the father. “They say you’re mistaken. Or that someone else killed her.” “No, I’m not mistaken, not about him. And no one else killed her. Doctor Nihar showed me his reports, and I looked at the autopsy images. There’s not a shred of evidence she was killed by anything but her own hand.” “Could someone have forced her to kill herself?” “In theory, yes. But they could have forced her to write a note too, which would have

left no doubt. I don’t believe she was forced to kill herself. I’m sorry this isn’t what they want to hear, but I can’t lie to them.” She gave me a wry look, and passed on what I’d said. The parents stood and shouted at me, and the father lifted a fist. No need for translation as to what that meant. The man was stooped and frail and no threat to anyone but himself, but I still beat a retreat, Jyoti behind me, still talking to her angry relatives as I fled down the stairs. I waited for her at the auto. “Guess they don’t want me on the case any more.” “No, nor to stay with them. I’m truly sorry, Javen. I believe you’ve been thorough. Except you said you would speak to her co-workers?” “Yeah, I would have done, tomorrow. The note’s still a puzzler, but it won’t change the facts. It’s too late to drive back to Hegal now. Any hotels around the place?” “Back on the main road. We passed it, remember? About an hour from here.” “Fine. I’ll stay there tonight, come by and pick you and your mother up tomorrow.” “But...you haven’t completed your investigations.” “They fired me.” “But you work for me,” she said with a frown. “Well, technically, but you’re not paying me, are you?” She drew herself up to her full height, bringing her eye to eye with me. “Are your ethics so determined by money? You offered me a favour, Javen. You haven’t completed it.” I threw my hands in the air. “To what point? Your cousin killed herself. I’m sorry but that just makes her one of hundreds of people who do that every year in Medele. You know why too. It’s no mystery. All your family are doing are torturing themselves and, by the way, really hurting her damn husband. You should be helping each other, not accusing him of murder. The poor bastard’s half out of his mind with sorrow.” She bowed her head. “I’ve always felt they were unfair to him. Javen, if you could solve the mystery of the note...if they had that much. One more day, is it so much to ask?” I blew out my cheeks in frustration. “Okay. One more day. One. But there’s no damn note. Maybe she was just too upset to write it, or got confused and thought she had. Maybe she mailed it to her parents and it got lost. I don’t know. But nearly two months on? No way is it going to turn up now.” “You’re probably right. But one day? And we’ll return the day after? It will give my mother and me the chance to talk to them, perhaps persuade them you are correct.”

I sighed, bowing to the inevitable. “If you insist. Damn it, I’m starving. Don’t suppose there was a restaurant near that hotel?” “I didn’t notice. You could ask when you get there.” Clearly no use hoping for her sympathy. I grudgingly said good night and headed off down crappy roads back the way I’d come. If I’d been a nastier person, I’d have kept on driving, but my word was my word. The coming day would be a complete waste of time and energy but cursed irrationality, I wasn’t doing anything else right now. It took a few minutes for anyone to answer my pressing the reception bell, and the woman who shuffled over to let me in looked barely awake, even though it wasn’t that late in the evening. She had a room free, but when I asked about somewhere to eat, she said everything would be closed by now. “But I could fix you up something, if you like. Got food in the freezer. Won’t take me long to heat it up.” I’d probably end up with food poisoning, but I was so hungry I didn’t care. “That’d be great, thanks.” “I’ll bring it over to your room, sir, with some chai.” I was the only guest, or at least the only one with an auto. I wondered who stayed here normally, and why the owners had chosen such an unlikely place for their business. I was beginning to regret rashly promising to pay my debt to Jyoti. There would be no happy resolution on this case, no matter what I did. The room was sparsely furnished, but clean and neat. The bed was hard, but bearable, and the network access free. I also had a good phone signal, so I called Yashi and told I wouldn’t be back for another two days. “Everything okay, Javen?” “Yeah. My first case, if you can believe it. Not a paying customer though.” “Oh. Well, see it as practice. Where are you?” I told him and a little about the case, without giving specifics or names. “What do you think?” “I think you were right but they’ll never accept it. That poor guy.” “The husband? He’s a wreck. Probably never get over it, not completely.” “No. Remind me to hug you when you get home, brother. And I think I might go and hug my family too.” “Give them extra ones from me. Love you all.” I closed the call, thinking I could be so much worse off than I was. Nikhil Kamlesh needed help he would never get in that close, close-minded community.

With no other way to pass the time, I opened up the files Doc Nihar had sent me. I was deep into the history of the original colonisation of Uterden when a knock at the door announced my supper. The woman had made quite an effort for the small amount I’d paid for the meal, setting it out carefully on a pretty painted tray, on what were probably her good dishes. I regretted all the unkind thoughts I’d had about how lousy it was likely to be. I thanked her profusely and made her blush. Wasn’t likely she got many compliments on her cooking or anything else, I thought. She told me to leave the tray outside and left me to it. The food was delicious and satisfying, though I was so hungry I’d have eaten just about anything. With my stomach filled, my mood lifted, and I relaxed over the strange story of how a pacifist and philosopher, a man called Manendra from Niken had deliberately crafted a race and a culture to colonise Uterden, hoping to create a rural paradise, devoid of religious and racial wars. He gave his udawathei, as he called them, red hair, green or blue eyes and a distinctive facial bone structure to show they were chosen for this purpose, to build his brave new world, and he seeded the genes of his new people with the empathy he possessed, because he thought that would lead to greater communal harmony. A group of one thousand modified humans settled on Garle, a large fertile continent on their new planet, and began to build their paradise. But despite his care his udawathei still split into sects, arguing about the meanings of texts and where their ‘Seeker of the Spirit’ had or hadn’t reincarnated, and eventually breakaway groups went exploring, looking for virgin territory to re-establish the perfect communities they still believed were possible. Seven hundred years ago, one such group had settled this land of Medele, a continent to the south of Garle, and spread along its east coast, farming and setting up communities, living according to their interpretation of Manendra the Seeker’s ideals. Then three hundred years later the Kelons arrived, and everything changed for the udawathei on Medele. As colonisation stories went, it was one of the more unusual and less violent, and explained a few things I’d never really understood about the banis around Hegal, like the fact they hung onto their old town there despite their dislike for Kelons because they believed the Seeker had lived and died there in one of his incarnations. I wasn’t one for history, but the text wasn’t hard to read, and didn’t get too bogged down in the religious side of it all, which bored me to tears. Thinking about religion, though, sent my thoughts off on the case again, and a marriage between two young people, where one was apparently devout, the other not. Could have caused tensions, I thought. Strains between them, like the way I found it hard to

talk to Jyoti and her mother. Maybe Sapna had felt there were things she couldn’t talk to Nikhil about. I looked at the paper copies Constable Girilal had given me, and the records Doctor Nihar had sent to my account. Sapna’s phone logs were among them. On the day she’d died she’d made some calls. Girilal hadn’t seen any significance in them, but I wondered why. Had he talked to the people she called? She already knew she would kill herself. If she spoke to anyone, surely they were people of significance to her. One of the very last calls was to a Lakshya Daya Yuyutsu’s account. Now where had I seen that name before? Yeah, there it was. He was the farmer who’d found Sapna after she’d given birth—the one who’d taken her and her dead child to Doc Nihar’s clinic in Sapna’s vehicle. A customer of Sapna’s employer, Girilal had noted next to his name. A friend, or at least an acquaintance, for sure. Everyone knew everyone else here. So why had she called him? Was Lakshya the last connection with her dead baby? What had they talked about? But I checked the time again, and realised the connection had been too short for a conversation. She’d left a message for him, content unnoted in the files, and then she’d gone off, slung a rope over a branch, and ended her life. I needed to talk to this Lakshya Yuyutsu. I showered in the communal bathroom, and settled down for an early night. I fell asleep quickly, worn out by a long day’s driving, my dreams filled with a disjointed narrative of a weeping woman begging me to save her child, and a wise, kind man offering to help by taking her away to safety in a gleaming, fantastical spaceship. ~~~~~~~~ I didn’t have to trouble my hostess for my breakfast, because a small diner catering to passing traffic was already open when I left the hotel not long after dawn. I dawdled over idlis and chai, the object of not entirely friendly curiosity from the diner staff and the customers, before driving back to the Flats to begin a pointless second day of investigations. First stop was Sapna’s place of work, the farm store. It was in a small group of businesses up on a mounded site, and trade was brisk—at least, by the standards of the Flats. But just as everywhere else I’d been, I was picked out immediately as a stranger, and viewed warily, though the women behind the counter smiled politely enough. “Can we help you, sir?” “My name’s Javen Ythen. I’m an investigator from Hegal, working for Sapna Janak’s parents.”

One of the women stood up and came over. “I’m Varuni. Sapna was my best friend. What are you trying to find out?” “You know her parents still have suspicions about her death?” The other woman frowned. “You better take this outside, Varuni. I’ll let the boss know.” “Is this inconvenient?” “No, but it’s not appropriate for here,” Varuni said. “Come out back with me.” On the edge of the mound, someone had built a little wooden bench, more out of hope than the reality of a scenic view, though the river in the distance wasn’t my idea of a pretty vista. But it gave us some privacy. Varuni sighed as she sat. “Six weeks, and I still expect her to walk in some mornings. Miss her so much.” “No one suspected she was suicidal?” “She never mentioned it to me. I knew she was depressed. Who wouldn’t be? She cried on my shoulder a few times, but I thought she was getting over it, as much as anyone can, I mean.” “Sushri Varuni, this is a difficult thing to ask...but did Sapna have marital problems?” “Not that I know of. Sometimes she’d complain about Nikhil doing this or that, but in the way you do when you live with someone. Not the way you do when you want to leave them.” “Right. And she wasn’t...seeing someone?” “An affair? Sapna? Never. I’d know,” she said firmly. “I have to ask. Sorry to upset you.” “It’s okay. I wish I could help her parents accept what happened.” “So do I. If I could find the suicide note...you don’t have any idea about that?” She shook her head. “No, but it wasn’t like her. The only thing I could think of was that she wrote it and it blew away, or maybe a bird pecked it off. She would have left a note.” That was the impression I’d got. Didn’t help find the answer. “The last person she called was the man who found her with the baby—Lakshya Yuyutsu. Do you know him?” “Of course. He’s one of our customers. A friend too, and to most folks around here. Nice man. One of the people Sapna did special deliveries to.” “More than usual?”

“No. He raises tus. He’s the only farmer in the area who does, so we don’t keep a lot of the supplies he uses. It’s easier for us to order drugs and feed in as he needs it, and since Sapna had a regular delivery run, she’d drop them off. There are a few customers like that.” “Right. Do you know why she’d call him before she killed herself?” The bluntness upset her and she stood to get away from me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “No, it’s fine. I just hate thinking about...what she did. Why didn’t she tell me? Talk to me? We’d have helped her. Everyone would. We tried.” “I know. It’s not your fault. People who kill themselves aren’t in their right mind.” “But she was at work with us and we didn’t know...we should have known.” She turned and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know why she called Lakshya. You should ask him. I don’t think I can help you with anything else. I don’t know anything else.” “Thank you for your time anyway. If it helps, I don’t think anyone could have stopped what happened. Unless she’d been in hospital and receiving medical treatment, you wouldn’t have known. She didn’t want you to know.” She gave me a sad smile. “Thanks. Maybe one day I’ll believe you.” ~~~~~~~~ Had Sapna known how much pain she’d cause by killing herself? Maybe she’d guessed but couldn’t see past her own to understand the devastation her action would bring. I didn’t exactly enjoy the idea of speaking to another one of her friends, feeling their grief. I had a thumping headache already, and it wasn’t even nine. I smelled the tus before I saw the huge birds in a pen, milling around as a banis man threw feed out of a bucket at them. The smell was worse than a two-week-old dead body, and the noise of their weird calls like a fire in a bullet factory. I eyed the huge yellow crests and the savage teeth and decided I was really glad to be on the other side of a heavy wooden fence. The farmer didn’t notice me until he finished feeding the animals and came to the pen gate. “Oh, hello. Didn’t see you waiting for me. What can I do for you, sir?” He had the classic Nihani features except for his brown eyes. A handsome man, in a rustic kind of way. “Javen Ythen. I’m working for Sapna Janak’s parents. Asking a few questions about her death.” I had to shout over the rattle of the birds. His guilt and grief hit me like a club to the head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He unlocked the gate and strode quickly to the barn. I gave chase. “Sri Yuyutsu, why did Sapna call you before she killed herself? What

was your relationship with her? Were you having an affair?” No answer. I kept shouting my questions until he emerged out of the barn carrying a pitchfork. “Get off my land. I said I don’t want to talk about it.” I surreptitiously put my hand on my gun under my coat. “Why? Got something to hide? Like the fact you murdered her?” Roaring with anger, he charged, but I was ready for him, dodging him easily and sending him flying with a carefully placed foot. Then I sat on him and waited for the stream of insults and yelling and sobs to stop, while I rubbed my temples and wished the people in this community weren’t so bloody loud about their feelings. He stopped struggling after a little bit. “You going to behave now, beto?” “Get off me.” “Not until you tell me if you’re going to behave and answer my questions.” “I don’t have to talk to you.” “True. But if you don’t talk to me, then I’m going to get in my auto and drive over to that nice Constable Girilal and tell him he should come chat to you about a few things. And by the time he’s done, the entire community will know something’s up, and since they know why I’ve been asking questions.... I bet these small places gossip, Lakshya. I bet it’s really uncomfortable when rumours get started. True or not.” “I didn’t kill her!” “Then tell me why you’re so upset. Even her husband didn’t carry on like this.” “Let me up.” “Will you behave?” A pause. “Yes.” “You’d better, because I’ve got a gun in my pocket and a stinking headache. I just want to know the truth about Sapna’s death. If you didn’t kill her, then you don’t need to be afraid of me.” He didn’t move. He was still angry, but not enraged. I figured I could risk it, but I kept my gun handy anyway. I stepped away and waited for him to get up, then I motioned him back inside the barn away from his damn noisy birds. He obeyed, expression sullen, but the fight had gone out of him. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who could force a woman to kill herself. Maybe he could strangle someone in a fit of passion, but not commit cold, deliberate

murder. I sat on a straw bale. “Okay. Talk. What was your relationship with Sapna?” He plopped down on a storage box a little way from me. “We were just friends.” “You’re lying.” “I’m not!” I kept looking at him. “All right. Once. We slept together once, and once only. We both agreed it was wrong and we wouldn’t do it again.” “But you kept seeing her?” “To talk. We were friends. Good friends.” “Did you love her?” He closed his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered. “And her baby...whose was it?” “I don’t know.” His voice became almost a wail. “She didn’t know. Didn’t matter. The child was hers and Nikhil’s. We agreed. She loved him. Nikhil, I mean. She loved us both. I didn’t want to hurt either of them.” I couldn’t detect anything that told me he was lying, but nothing either that explained the violence of his reaction. “So why did she call you before she killed herself? She didn’t even call her best friend. Why you?” He didn’t answer. I could wait. Wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be today, and this man held the key to the mystery. However long it took, I wasn’t leaving without the truth. “Lakshya, Sapna’s family are destroying themselves over her death. They’re convinced she was murdered. If you know anything which can help them understand what happened, you owe it out of pure humanity to help them.” “I know but....” “Just tell me,” I said quietly, “what happened, from the beginning. I’m not here to judge, and I’m not here to expose what doesn’t need to be exposed. I just want to help her parents and her brothers. Please.” He nodded. “I wanted to talk to them for so long, but I didn’t know how. I figured anything I could say would only make it worse.” “Right now, I don’t think that’s possible.” He rubbed his face and looked away. “I lied to Constable Girilal. About her and the baby. She didn’t give birth alone. I was with her when her labour started.” “Just talking?”

“Yeah. I was,” he added defensively. “We often met at that place. She liked it and it was private. We used to talk about...the Spirit, and our faith. Nikhil...doesn’t share it.” “So you tried to help the child, I guess?” “I did, I really did.” His face contorted with anguish. “But it all happened so fast and the baby wasn’t breathing. The cord was wrapped so tight around his little neck. I cut it when he was out but he wouldn’t breathe. I tried and tried.” Tears dripped down his face. “If her mother had been there, the baby would have lived.” “Maybe not.” “Yes, he would. It was my fault. Only she blamed herself, not me. She said she’d been punished for being unfaithful. I told her the Spirit doesn’t work like that but she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t talk to me any more after that. After she went home from the clinic, I mean. She wouldn’t answer my calls, and if she had a delivery for me, she just dropped it at the gate.” “She was grieving.” “Yeah. I knew she was. I wasn’t angry, I was worried. She wasn’t thinking straight.” All this fit with the known facts, and he told the truth, I was sure of it. “So she called you that morning...?” “To say goodbye. Only I didn’t hear the phone because I was with the birds.” My right eye twitched as the waves of his sorrow crashed against my talent. “She said she wanted to be with her baby, and be reborn together. I knew as soon as I heard it what she was going to do, and where. I ran down to the grove fast as I could, but it was too late. It was horrible. Seeing her like that...I wanted to puke. I couldn’t bear being there, seeing her, so I left. Couldn’t stand looking, and I couldn’t help her. I know it was wrong but...she was already dead, Sri Ythen. You have to believe me.” “I do. Lakshya...the one thing I can’t explain to her parents is that there wasn’t a note. Don’t suppose you can shed any light on that, can you?” He stiffened, and I put my hand on my gun again. “I need to go to the house. Will you wait for me?” “Sure.” Maybe he was going to fetch a weapon, or maybe call for help. I didn’t think so. I gambled on it being something else, and stayed where I was. Outside, the tus settled down, with only the occasional gun fire rattle coming to shake me out of my thoughts. I imagined a life spent looking after the huge birds, only seeing the

same limited circle of people, nothing to look forward to in life but more of the same. The temptation to spend a few stolen minutes or hours with a pretty friend would be damn strong. Was he lying when he said they’d only slept together once? Did it matter? And what would I tell Sapna’s parents about their darling girl? They didn’t need to know this, nor did her husband. But I had to give them something or they’d gnaw themselves to death over a murder that never happened. I waited for nearly half an hour before he came back. He’d been weeping again, his face red and freshly washed. “Sorry, I.... Here.” He handed me two envelopes, one addressed to Sapna’s parents, the other to her husband. The handwriting wobbled across the paper. I imagined her crying her heart out as she wrote the words. I touched them, as if I could reach back across the days to that fateful one, tell her not to do it. But that wasn’t possible. I tucked them into my tunic pocket and waited for him to explain how he’d found them. He sat down on the box again. “There was an envelope pinned to her shirt. I wasn’t thinking as I took it. I kept looking at her face.... Anyway, I shoved the envelope into a pocket, ran home, threw up. I couldn’t do anything after that but sit and shake. I didn’t even remember the note until about an hour later. When I opened it, there were notes for her father and mother, Nikhil...and me. That’s when I realised I shouldn’t have touched it at all. Should have left the notes there, called the police. But it was too late by then. My wife called to tell me Sapna’s body had been found. I couldn’t put the notes back then.” He bit his lip. “I wanted to find a way to give them back but...I thought they’d find fingerprints. I was scared, Sri Ythen. I didn’t know what to do. But now I do. The Spirit sent you. Take the notes to her family.” “You haven’t read them?” He shook his head. “They weren’t for me.” “But what if she tells them about you? What if they go to the police?” He straightened. “Then so be it. I hurt them and I hurt her. I deserve what’s coming to me. I wish...I really wish it had been different.” “You and a lot of people. Lakshya, you’re not responsible for her death, or the baby’s. There’s a lot of sad people around at the moment and I don’t want to hear of anyone else killing themselves out of stupid guilt.” He jerked and blinked at me as if I slapped him. “I’m serious. No more suicides. Your wife doesn’t need to go through what Nikhil did, or your parents what hers did. You made a mistake, but that’s all it was. You panicked. No

shame in that. Now it’s over, do you hear me? I’ll deliver these notes, and I’ll keep your name out of it. If Sapna mentions you, well, then that’s different. But you move on. Don’t make this a bigger tragedy.” “I don’t deserve to move on.” “Whether you do or you don’t, there are other people involved. Good people, people who don’t deserve to suffer. You want to make up for what you did? Then go on. Make the best life you can for your wife and the kids you’ll have. Be a friend to Nikhil because he surely needs one. And don’t you ever, ever tell anyone what you told me. They don’t need to know.” “The police?” “If I have to, I’ll square it with Girilal. There’s been no crime that needs prosecuting.” “I miss her,” he whispered. “She really was my best friend.” “Then help her husband for her sake, because he’s a decent man and she loved him. Will you do that?” He nodded. “We went to school together. We were friends, all three of us. I miss him as well.” “Then you know what to do.” I got to my feet. “Feel better?” “Yeah.” The fact surprised him a little, I felt. “I wanted to tell someone, but I couldn’t.” “Good. But that has to be enough. Don’t go pouring your heart out to your wife. Take it from me—that won’t go down well.” “I won’t. Uh...I guess I should thank you.” “No need. Good day, Lakshya. And good luck.” I left as fast as I decently could, but not to go back to Sapna’s home. Instead I drove back to the grove where she’d died. I needed time to think, to absorb what I’d heard. So much misery, and yet there had been no evil in any of the people involved. Just ordinary passion, and extraordinary bad luck. I stared at the killing tree, trying to imagine a young woman’s body hanging from it, but I couldn’t. I’d seen a lot of ugliness in my time on the force, but my mind refused to come up with this. Maybe just as well. The two men who’d seen it would be haunted for a long time by the image. I hoped some day they’d find peace with their ghosts. I called Jyoti and warned her I was on my way over, and that her aunt and uncle needed to let me speak to them. “I found her note,” I said.

“Then they will see you.” She met me as I parked up. “Where was it?” “It’s...complicated. And for the sake of everyone, I’m going to have to tell a few small lies. I promise not to tell a large one.” Her blue eyes searched me, as no doubt her empathic talent did too. “Very well. But will you tell me the truth?” “As much as I can, but when we leave, okay? In private.” “I understand. Come inside.” The hostility in the dark little living room was thick enough to cut, and did nothing to improve my fast-worsening headache. The aunt didn’t invite me to sit this time. No point in wasting time, so I got right to it. “The note was found by someone who didn’t realise the significance of it until after Sapna’s body was discovered, and then they were afraid of being accused of wrongdoing. Before I give it to you, I must have your word you won’t try to find this person, and you won’t ask the police to. There’s been no crime. Sapna wasn’t murdered.” The parents stared at me unblinkingly, hating me. I motioned to Jyoti and she spoke again to them. After a pause, they answered. “They agree. Where is the note?” I handed the envelope over, and she passed it on. The mother took it and slowly tore the envelope open with shaking hands. Jyoti’s mother went to her brother’s side, and put her hand on his shoulder. All three of them read in silence, Sapna’s brothers standing back, watching me with miserable eyes. The mother began to sob quietly, wrist pressed against her mouth, her husband putting his arm around her. He said something, and Jyoti’s mother took the note and gave it to the brothers. “Is it okay?” I whispered to Jyoti. “I think so.” She said something to her uncle and he answered. “He says thank you, but could you leave for a little while? This is...family. Do you mind?” “No. There’s a note for her husband as well, so I’ll go see him. But Jyoti, they really mustn’t—” “I understand, Javen. I’ll call you when you should return.” If I couldn’t feel the emotions coming from everyone in the room, I’d have been a little miffed by the dismissal, but I was glad to get out of there. Poor Jyoti had to stay and endure it.

I was in two minds about whether to give Nikhil’s note to him. On one hand, he was upset by not having one. On the other, Sapna might have said things that would make it so much worse for him, and I felt more conscience about Nikhil than I did about the parents because he was doing it alone. The poor bastard had suffered enough. In the end, I figured if Sapna loved him, she wouldn’t have told him about Lakshya. I supposed the argument also went if she loved him, she wouldn’t have killed herself, but I didn’t really have the right to interfere with someone’s last wishes. So I started the auto’s engine and drove over to Nikhil Kamlesh’s farm. But first, I swallowed a painkiller. Three of them. The way this empathy shit was going, I’d have to invest in a drug factory. The workshop was closed and for a few horrible seconds, I thought Nikhil might have done something stupid. But then I saw him in the yard of the house, tending to some straggly fruit trees. He waved when he saw me, and though I felt his lack of enthusiasm, he smiled. “Good morning, Sri Ythen.” “Javen, please. I, uh, have something for you. But I think you might want to sit down first.” “About...her?” “Yes. Come over here.” He laid the pruning tool down and joined me on the carved seat under the tree. I wondered if he’d made the chair for Sapna, but couldn’t bring myself to ask. “I found her note.” “Where? How could it have turned up now? It’s been such a long time.” “It was found, and the person who found it...didn’t know how to give it to you without getting into trouble.” “Who?” “It’s better you don’t ask. For them and for you. Do you want it?” He nodded jerkily and I handed it over. “Would you like me to leave?” “No. I think...I’d like you to stay. Can you?” “Of course.” He turned the envelope over and over as if unable to believe it was real. “Do you think I should read it?” “I think if you don’t, you’ll always wonder.” But I hoped Sapna had given some thought to what this would do to her husband. He opened the envelope and drew out the pale green paper. As he read, his eyes filled

with tears. He kissed the letter, refolded it and put it back in the envelope, before sliding it into his shirt pocket. He covered his eyes with his hand, and wept. I put my hand on his shoulder, his pain my pain, but glad to be there to help. We sat like that for a long time, as the sun grew warmer, and the scrappy garden almost pretty. Would he ever share it with anyone else? Would he ever recover? Finally he blew his nose. “Thank you,” he croaked. “There was a note for her parents too. They know you didn’t do anything.” “They’ll still hate me. The person who found the note—” “Meant no harm. They panicked, that’s all. She meant you to have it right away. What will you do now? Are you still going to leave?” He looked away, up at the tree, and the faded wood of his house. “I don’t know. My memories are here, good and bad. People have been unkind.” “Everyone?” “Maybe not everyone. I need to think some more. I’ll always miss her, wherever I am.” “A lot of people will. I’ve talked to a few of them. Maybe...they’d like to share their memories with you.” “Maybe.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I never thought I’d see this letter.” “Did it help?” “A little. To know I was in her thoughts after all.... But she’s still gone.” Wasn’t much I could say to that. “If Jyoti and her mother want to visit before we go back to Hegal, would you like to see them?” “Yes. I would, very much.” “Then I’ll bring them over, if they want to come.” “Yes.” He looked up as I stood. “I wonder if she sent you because her message didn’t get to me.” “Anything’s possible. I’m glad I could help. Be well, Nikhil. And be happy.” He gave me a tired smile, not believing in the possibility. I didn’t know if he could learn happiness again. But he was a young man with a lot of years ahead of him. I hoped he could. ~~~~~~~~ The next visit I needed to pay was to Constable Girilal. He frowned when I told him the suicide notes had been found and delivered. “I should have seen them first, you know.

For the file.” “Yes, I know. But they only confirmed what you already knew—that she killed herself. I didn’t think anything would be gained by exposing the family further.” “Not your call, Sri Ythen. And you won’t tell me how you came by them either?” “Afraid not. I was told in confidence. I suppose you could arrest me, but somehow I don’t think you will.” “You’re a smart arse. Even though you’re right, damn you, it’s not fair to play me like that.” “I know, but the only nice thing about being out of the force is that I don’t have to care about the rules so much. I swear by my honour no crime’s been concealed, and you’d learn nothing important.” “Don’t have much choice but to believe you. All right. I’ll note the file, and close it.” “One thing though. Sapna’s family have made it hard for her husband with all they’ve been saying about him. It’d be kind if you spread the word she really did kill herself. Put a stop to the nastier rumours.” He grunted. “I suppose I can do that. Poor man doesn’t deserve what’s been said. Yes, that’s reasonable. Now I suggest you leave before I think better of letting you off the hook over interfering with evidence, Sri Ythen.” “Good day, constable. And thank you.” He waved me off, half-irritated, half-pleased. A nastier man would have made my life suck for what I’d just pulled. But I’d counted on his good nature, and been right to do so. And then finally to Doctor Nihar, because he could do some good in restoring Nikhil’s reputation too. He listened to my edited tale of finding the note in silence, and stroked his chin thoughtfully when I finished. “Always thought it was possible someone found her before her husband did.” I hadn’t even hinted at the possibility of that. “I don’t think it’s helpful to speculate.” “Oh, I know that, young man, and I know very well why you’re not telling me everything. Someone’s involved and knowing their name would hurt good people.” “If there was someone else...they didn’t do any harm.” “No doubt.” He sighed. “You know, I think I might drop over and speak to Nikhil. Should have done that before now.” “That’d be kind, doctor. He’s shaken up.” “Yes, I’m sure. You’ve done a fair bit of shaking up all over the place, one way or

another, haven’t you?” “Guess so. But now it’s over.” “For you, maybe. Not for the family. But that’s my job, looking after them. Mine and the rest of us. I’ll see that we do.” “Thanks. Oh, I read that paper you gave me. Interesting stuff.” “It is. Pity more of you don’t learn a bit more about the history of the planet, but from what I see, your people are a pretty incurious bunch, at least about my people.” “Maybe we are. But I’m glad I read it. Thanks.” “Any time. Now you’d better be off doing whatever it is you do, and I’d better get back to work. Nice job, Javen. Not every case will be this tidy.” “Wish this one could have a happy ending, but that was never going to happen.” “No. Well, good day and good luck, young man. Drop in if you’re ever out this way again.” I smiled and agreed, but somehow doubted I ever would be. The Flats weren’t the kind of place or the kind of people who needed investigators. I wasn’t sorry about that. ~~~~~~~~ I arrived home next day just in time for lunch. I walked in, went to the twins and hugged them until they squealed with laughter. While Tara was still chiding me for that, I hugged her, and then my brother when he came over to see what the hell was going on. “I love all of you more than anything or anyone in the world.” “That’s nice, brother, but could you let us go so we can breathe?” Tara patted my cheek. “You look worn out. Want to talk about it?” “No. Not yet anyway. Any food left for me?” “You can have mine, Uncle Javen,” Harshul said, shoving his plate at me. “Harshul Ythen, sit down and eat your food,” Tara said. “You won’t grow big and strong if you don’t eat properly.” “Don’t want to be big and strong. Don’t like vegetables.” I laughed and ruffled his hair. “Vegetables before sweets, and you love sweets, right?” “Why can’t I have them instead?” I smiled at Tara. “Well?” “Because I said you can’t, and that’s the end of that. Thank you, Uncle Javen.” “Any time, sister.”

She made a face and served me some of her delicious kari, while Yashi warmed chapatis. Harshul’s twin, Madhu, ate quietly, smirking as his brother poked his unwanted food, forking a piece now and then into his sulky mouth. Yashi grinned at all of us, and I grinned at him. Some days, my family drove me crazy. Today...even as an atheist, I felt blessed, and very, very lucky to have them. When the promised sweets finally arrived, I lifted my mug of chai to everyone. “To good food, and good company.” “And me,” Harshul insisted. Yashi grinned. “Of course to you, you noisy brat. To all of us, especially my beloved brother, for whom I’m always grateful.” “And to you, brother. To all of you.” His eyes met mine, and I knew he understood. That was the nice thing about being a twin. Some things I’d never need to explain.

Javen and the Seeker’s Gift On a hundred old Earth-colonised planets, among twenty human races, there’s one constant—never, ever come between a cop and his morning cup of plant-based stimulant. I wasn’t a cop any more, and I was trying to cut down on the caffeine intake for the good of my blood pressure, but that didn’t stop me scowling at the banis man who slid into the booth across from me and smiled far too brightly for this time of the morning. “Sri Ythen?” “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any, and I’m not looking for an employee. Try some other chuma, beto.” I’d pissed him off, which didn’t bother me half as much as the fact he hadn’t taken the hint. “I am not looking for a job, Sri Ythen. Rather, I am looking to employ you. You are a detective, yes? Private investigations, with discretion?” I sat up, now more curious than annoyed. I’d had a couple of banis clients, by accident more than anything else. Most couldn’t afford my fees, not that I held it against them. My visitor might be able to, though. Sharp Kelon-style kurta pajama, clean-shaven face, bright auburn hair worn in hundreds of tiny braids in the usual banis fashion, but without any flashy beads, face paint or ear tails. “Your name?” “Harinakshi Tapti Sohan, but I will not be your client. Is there somewhere we could talk discreetly?” “Right here, Sri Sohan.” The chai house was half-empty and no one ever paid me any attention, except to take my order. It was why I kept coming back. Privacy, network access, drinkable chai—all I asked for anywhere. I shut down the media report I’d been reading on the booth screen. “But you realise my fee starts at five hundred a day, on top of expenses, and I charge a finder’s fee if I’m looking for an object or a person.” Sohan bowed his head. “Expense is no problem. Discretion is. And forgive me, this is too sensitive to discuss where we can be overhead.” “We could go for a walk, but that might get you more attention than you want.” “You don’t have an office?” “Not as such, and if you knew to look for me here, you already knew that. So cut the crap and tell me what you want.” I hadn’t had a client in nearly a month, but I wasn’t hurting for money. This guy had already crossed two lines with me. A third and he wasn’t

hiring me if he offered me majority shares in Pledeke Corp itself. He was still pissed off, but I sensed desperation too. He didn’t want to fail. Weird, because I wasn’t the only detective in Hegal by a long way. “Talk, Sri Sohan. The first half hour is free, and then there’s a hundred dolar fee per hour.” “Money is very important to you, isn’t it?” I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s my job. If you want someone to listen to you for free, you need a priest, not me. Now tell me about the client.” He was on the verge of walking, which wouldn’t make me cry, but the fact he sat there, still seething, intrigued me. “Is it true you are matos? You say, ‘empath’?” “A little louder, the cook might not have heard you. I’m not allowed to advertise any ‘special’ talents in gaining employment.” “But I asked you.” “Why does it matter?” “I can’t answer that.” “Then same goes for me. What’s the job? Surveillance? Retrieval?” “Retrieval. Of a very precious and very sensitive kind.” “They’re all precious and sensitive, Sri Sohan, which is why I can charge what I do. If your interest in whether I’m matos is to find out if I mind taking on an indigenous client, you don’t need to worry. I don’t have a problem with your people.” “I already know that, Sri Ythen. You acted for my fojor a few months ago. She was satisfied with your professionalism, though she didn’t mention your....” “Charm? What’s a fojor?” “Sorry. You would say my father’s step-sister’s niece.” I shook my head. The banis had words for things the Kelons didn’t even know needed one. “Sushri Hiranya? Jyoti Hiranya?” “Yes. She said you were discreet and efficient, and different from other chuma. Now, do you want the job or not?” I held up my hands. “What job? Look, I need more information. I don’t work blind, and I don’t accept cases I don’t think I have a reasonable chance of cracking. It’s not fair on the client.” The annoyance rolled off him. “I can’t tell you about it unless you agree to work for us.”

“And I’m agreeing to nothing before you tell me. So maybe you need another detective, Sri Sohan.” I picked up my mug, and glanced pointedly at the door. “Good day.” He stood up, pissed as fury, and stalked over to the door, wrenching it open so hard I felt the wall move. I shrugged. I was sorry not to know what was so flaming important, but I had chai to drink and reports to read. Clients came and went, and the Nihan weren’t my target demographic. Not enough money to throw around. “We will pay twice your usual fee, two days in advance, if you will take on the task.” When the hell had Sohan come back in? I blinked up at his irritated face. “Two thousand in advance? You don’t look like you have that kind of money.” He pulled out his wallet, extracted a paycard, and inserted it into the booth reader, logging in without asking my permission. He jabbed his finger at the screen. “I have ten thousand dolar available right now. Ten days’ hire. You can have it all now, if you come.” “No. Seriously no. Are you crazy? I don’t care what you’ve lost, that kind of money smells illegal, and I don’t do that, beto. I’m an ex-cop because of injury, not because I broke the law. Scram.” He leaned on the table, his black eyes boring into me. “Please. For the sake of justice. There is no illegality, I swear by the Spirit.” It was a toss-up which I felt more—crankiness or curiosity. Curiosity won by a hair. “Okay. I’ll talk. I don’t need the money, and if I don’t like what I hear, I walk. No contract up front, no obligation. Take it or leave it. No arguing.” “I take it. Please come now.” He actually plucked at my jacket sleeve. “Hold your damn horses. I’m coming.” “Horses?” “Kolija.” “But I own no kolija.” This was going to be a very long meeting. ~~~~~~~~ We took a taxi instead of my own vehicle, since taking a private auto into the banis neighbourhood of old Hegal would be like walking in banging drums and playing sirens. Being Kelon was conspicuous enough, even though there were plenty of mixed-race people around who looked Kelon. Until I found out what was so damn urgent about this case, attention was the last thing I wanted.

A lot of Kelons referred to Nihani housing as burrows, which wasn’t polite but not completely inaccurate either. The long rows of houses interconnected at various point, allowing extended families a free run down half a dozen homes without ever needing to come onto the street. Most banis flat out refused to live in individual Kelon houses, even when provided free. Too isolated, they said. Privacy wasn’t much valued in banis society, so far as I could tell. I’d lived in Hegal all my life, spent ten years as a cop walking the streets and enforcing the law, and yet I had never been down this road. I knew I wouldn’t be welcome there. Kelon cops tended to steer clear of old Hegal unless they were on a call, leaving community relations to the indigenous cops. There weren’t that many mixed-race officers on the force. The ones who were, were inevitably stuck doing liaison work. We were in the jewellery making district, one of the few lucrative indigenous industries. Banis craftsmen lived above their workshops, and I wasn’t surprised when the taxi pulled up outside a large, moderately prosperous-looking business selling enamelwork and glassware. Sohan paid the driver, and led me to the entrance to the upstairs residences. We met no one, but I sensed other people hidden away behind the dark wooden walls. The corridor was rather gloomy, so I blinked when he opened a door and led me into an airy, sunlit room. Then I blinked again, this time from the impact of distinctly different emotions coming from two individuals. Hostility verging on hate, stabbing into my head like a skewer, and intense relief and...curiosity. While I tried to orientate myself, Sohan went down on one knee. “Muor, I have brought the man you wished to speak to.” I shielded my eyes and found myself looking at a short, elderly woman dressed in flowing purple and umber, holding her hand out to me. I felt the tingle in my skull that told me I was in the presence of another empath. “Hello, Shrimati...sorry, I don’t know your name.” “I am Roshni Deela Yatin,” she said in a lilting voice. I accepted her hand, but then jerked a little in shock as I noticed her eyes. Banis eyes are usually blue or green, though those of mixed-race people were often hazel or even brown. Hers were completely milky white. “Yes, I’m blind, Sri Ythen. And matos, as you are. Please sit. Let me introduce one of my nephews, my legal advisor, Shardul Hema Rishabh.” The source of the hostility—and someone I’d heard of. Someone to avoid, I’d been told. An indigenous lawyer with a fierce reputation and fiercer hatred of Kelons. “Sri Rishabh,” I said politely. Arsehole, I thought. He knew what he was doing to me, projecting those emotions. But he was pretty enough, with hundreds of fiery braids spilling

around his elegant features, framing his intense eyes. “Sri Jav,” he replied. I didn’t correct him about my name. An odd mistake for him to make. “Please, everyone. Sit. Harinakshi, there is chai in the kitchen. Sri Ythen, you’ll drink our chai?” “Yes, ma’am. But I’d rather hear what you want me to do so desperately.” Rishabh made a faintly disgusted noise. Someone wasn’t thrilled to see me, for sure. Shrimati Yatin ignored him. “A week ago, my workshop below was broken into. I lost a number of valuable commissioned pieces, but insurance will cover that, or most of it. Unfortunately, the thieves also took a strong box, no doubt thinking it contained something valuable. Its contents, no insurance can replace.” “And was it valuable, ma’am?” “Not to anyone but the udawathei. The intrinsic value, barely a dolar. To our people, all the money in the universe will not compensate us.” “A cultural artefact then. You reported it to the police?” Rishabh snorted. “Of course. And of course they said they would investigate. Which, for the chuma, means poking around, disturbing evidence, asking inane questions, and putting the case at the bottom of their list of things to do. It would be a waste of time to try and explain the monuwel’s importance.” “The monuwel—that’s the artefact? What is it, and are you sure no one but a banis would want it?” “It’s a wooden cup, Sri Ythen,” Shrimati Yatin said. “Simply painted, very plain. Not even particularly attractive.” “Then the thieves either tossed it when they realised they’d picked up something useless, or they might be smart enough to realise it was in a strong box for a reason, and try and sell it to a collector.” I shrugged. “Either way, I can’t see why you need me, or any detective. All you need to do is search. I don’t do trash collections, and you’d know more about banis artefact collectors than me. If it’s valuable to your people, it’s almost certainly still with them. The thieves were probably indigenous.” “I told you the guko would take that attitude,” Rishabh spat. She held up her hand. “Patience, Shardul. Sri Ythen, no one in our community would steal from me.” I raised my eyebrows, though she couldn’t see them. She’d sense my scepticism,

though. “I don’t mean to be rude—” “Then refrain.” Shrimati Yatin sighed at her nephew. “Shardul, please. Continue,” she said to me. “I was a cop for ten years, ma’am. No one has any special immunity from theft. Honour among thieves is a myth.” “Not in this case. You’ll have to take my word on that. The thieves are not udawatha. We could, as you say, initiate a search, but the need for discretion is paramount. We didn’t tell the police of the monuwel’s theft, and apart from us in this room, no one knows it’s missing.” “Then how do you expect the police to look for something they don’t know is stolen, Shrimati Yatin?” “I don’t. I hoped they would find the other material and identify the thieves so we could ask them about the artefact, but nothing has happened.” “Of course not,” Rishabh said with a dismissive wave. I turned to him. “If you’re so clever, Sri Rishabh, why aren’t you looking for it? Oh, that’s right, you need a chuma for it. Except you haven’t told me why, and damned if I can work out why I should sit here while you make snide remarks about my people.” “Oh, so sorry. Am I oppressing you, Sri Jav?” “You’re being an arsehole. Excuse my language, ma’am.” Sohan set a cup of chai in front of me, radiating anger. “You are very disrespectful, Sri Ythen.” “Maybe you should tell your pet legal eagle to take a hike.” The ‘eagle’ bristled. “You won’t be speaking to my aunt without my presence, Sri Jav, and that’s final.” “Then pull in your horns or I’m taking a hike.” “Shardul, Sri Ythen, please.” For a little woman, she could put a lot of authority into her voice. “Sri Ythen, we need you because you are Kelon, and you are also matos and can tell if someone is lying. With your gift, we felt, since you have this tie to our people, you would be sympathetic. My niece said you were very kind.” “Your niece? Just how many nieces and nephews do you have, ma’am?” She smiled. “I use the terms loosely as you don’t have the exact terms in Kelon.” “Right. Look, I might have the gene for empathy, but I’m not banis. I’m Kelon. I don’t have any special...understanding of your religion or culture. I can recommend some cops

who—” “Will you shut up and listen, you guko? She’s trying to explain.” I glared at Rishabh and got a blue-eyed snarl back. “Well?” Sushri Yatin’s hands fluttered. “The monuwel...we can’t ask any of our people to help. They must not see it. Only I and the guardian of the Seeker’s house can do that.” What in sanity’s name was a “Seeker’s house”? They were using words I understood but not in any order I recognised. “But a Kelon is safe because we don’t count?” She bowed her head. “Yes. But we need someone like you who will respect its importance.” “Which is?” “I can’t tell you. All I can say is I would rather lose my hands and feet than to lose the monuwel permanently.” I never did have much patience with religious types, and only the fact she was a woman and had been polite to me since I arrived, stopped me snapping at her. “Okay, I get that. But what am I supposed to do?” “Retrieve it. Isn’t that what you do? Retrieve?” I looked at the sneer on Rishabh’s handsome, hostile face, and stood. “Yeah, but not today. Life’s too short. Good day, ma’am. Hope your monuwel turns up.” Sohan tried to block the door but I outweighed him and had hand-to-hand training on top of it. A forceful hand on shoulder and arm, and he moved, wincing. I strode down the corridor without looking back. I expected Sohan to come after me, after all the song and dance earlier, but no one did. No one bothered me at the chai house, called my phone, or followed me into the library. No one dropped by the house either—just as well, as my brother would kill me if I brought work home like that. But as I left the library, thinking I might take the long way back home since the weather was nice, an auto pulled up beside me, the door sliding open. “Get in, Ythen.” “Not on your bloody life, Rishabh.” He gave me an evil smile. “Get in or I’ll initiate a complaint regarding your detective license and your method of attracting clients. I can guarantee you won’t work for months.” “On what grounds?” “On the grounds you didn’t get into my vehicle. I’m unarmed, of course. Are you scared?” he added sweetly.

I rolled my eyes, and climbed in. “You’re damn childish for a lawyer.” “For a man who continued to use a term of abuse to my aunt even though she pointedly did not use it for our people, you’re damn sensitive about slights to your Kelon pride. Not that I expect anything more from the master race.” While I tried to work out what the hell he was talking about, he gunned the engine and tore along at barely legal speed towards Gateway Park, down by the river. A popular place for courting couples, but I wasn’t going to mention that. As he pulled into a parking place, I said, “‘Banis’ isn’t a term of abuse.” “What does it mean?” “It means...you. Your people. Indigenous. The Nihan. It’s a nickname.” “It means ‘albino’, you fool. The others, the aliens. It’s an insult bestowed by your charming ancestors.” “But you’re not albinos.” “Didn’t matter to your colonists. They called us ‘albinos’ and we called them ‘big noses’. Chuma.” “Fascinating, but—” “You guko never listen when we try to tell you this.” “‘Guko’?” He smirked. “‘Arsehole’.” I shook my head. “Here we go again. If you picked me up to insult me, I’m warning you, I seriously don’t give a shit what you think of me, Rishabh.” “I’m only here, Jav, because my aunt is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and that fool Harinakshi has convinced her you’re her best, last hope. Which you might be, but using you makes my teeth ache.” “You won’t be using me because I turned the job down. And my name’s not ‘Jav’.” “My name’s not ‘Rishabh’ but that doesn’t stop you using it.” I wrinkled my nose at him, completely confused. “‘Shardul Hema Rishabh’. What am I missing?” “Rishabh is my father. Hema is my mother. I’m Shardul. Would you like to be called by your father’s name?” Every single banis I had ever encountered on the force had been recorded in exactly same way as any Kelon. We used the last name as a family name. So why was I only hearing this now? “How am I supposed to know you use a weird naming system?”

“How indeed. We only do it to annoy the chuma, of course. Nothing to do with the fact your administration pointedly refused to accommodate our traditions.” I gritted my teeth. “I don’t want to talk politics with you.” “Good, because you’re clearly incompetent to do so. However, I was informed you were an adequately talented investigator.” “I can’t help your aunt. I know nothing about the artefacts trade.” “But you know the wealthy, Sri Ythen. You know thieves. My aunt believes the monuwel was taken by accident. I don’t believe in accidents.” “How widespread is the knowledge of this thing’s existence?” “Limited to a handful of scholars, the guardian, my aunt, myself and Harinakshi.” “So we come back to the likelihood it’s one of your own who took it.” “Impossible.” “This is where I get out of the car, threat or no threat, Shardul.” He hissed through his teeth. “It is impossible for one of our people to have stolen the monuwel. The chuma do not know it exists. I don’t believe it was stolen by accident.” “Those statements can’t be reconciled.” “I know. This is what we need your help for.” “‘We’? Thought it was your aunt and your cousin.” “I’m using it in the loosest sense, Ythen. Someone took the monuwel intentionally. That someone is not udawatha. Or is not obviously udawatha.” “Someone mixed-race? Passing as Kelon? Someone like me with a bit of Nihani blood?” He sneered. “You may be matos, Ythen, but your genetics don’t make you one of us, or give you a claim to our culture. Too many chuma think it does. They think it makes them ‘special’.” “Never met one who did.” The proof that our family had been ‘tainted’ by banis genes had not been welcome, and my parents had urged me to keep quiet about it. My twin brother, Yashi, was a lot more relaxed about it, but his wife, Tara, didn’t like me talking about it in front of their kids. “Who do you think fuels the trade in our cultural artefacts? Stupid Kelons sticking our precious relics, our rarest works of art, in their houses because they look ethnic and interesting, regardless of how great a sacrilege it is, or how insulting it is to the people of

the Spirit. Using our symbols to make pretty textiles for your women to wear and decorate your homes. Braiding the hair of your children because it’s cute without understanding that our braiding patterns are a mark of clan identity. Cloaking themselves in superficial imitation of our culture makes them feel less guilty over what your people have done to ours.” “Like it or not, your people are my people too.” “A chuma man made a baby on an udawatha woman. That doesn’t make her ‘your people’, Ythen.” “Watch your mouth, Shardul. That’s my grandmother you’re talking about. Your community has plenty of biracial couples.” “Being udawatha is not about blood, except to the guko who see everything in terms of taint. The udawathei are those who walk in the path of the Spirit and abide by the teachings of the Seeker. Those who do not, are not udawatha, no matter how red their hair.” I’d encountered this snobbery before and I had no interest in it. More than that, it was getting us nowhere. “I don’t see how I can help.” “We need someone to ask around. If there is a chuma who knows of the monuwel, they’ll know why we’re asking about it. You can pose as a buyer’s representative. Anyone who realises its importance won’t be surprised at the interest.” “That’s a crappy plan.” “Come up with a better one. We’ll pay you whatever you ask.” “Even if I prove it’s one of your own people behind it?” “It is not.” I sighed. “Okay. I’ll give it a week. More than that isn’t fair to your aunt. I’m telling you straight—I think the chances of finding this thing are so small as to be zero. And I’m not touching it unless you help me when I need it—without the snideness.” “I’m a busy man, Ythen.” “Take it or leave it. I don’t need the work or the money.” “Ah yes. What do they pay cops they throw out of the force for developing empathy these days?” “More than enough for me to be able to tell you to shove it up your arse, Shardul.” He smiled nastily. “You realise that you’re the victim of your own people’s prejudice against my people. The anti-empathy laws are designed to keep us out of key positions. The civil liberties nonsense is a smokescreen.”

I didn’t answer. I’d left the force—okay, had been forcibly retired—nearly two years ago, but the wound was still raw. “Whatever. You help, you keep the insults to a bare minimum, or I say bye-bye. I need some names of potential buyers.” “I’ll provide them. You’ll also need to have some cultural education so you don’t make a complete fool of yourself. I have arranged a reading list. If you come to my office tonight —” “Sorry, no can do. A set of twins is having a birthday tonight, and if their favourite uncle doesn’t show with gifts and cake, my name will be mud. Have your people drop it over to that chai house in the morning. I’ll be there.” He tsked. “Do you always conduct your business in such a public manner?” “I find it cuts down on awkward conversations. Speaking of which, this is over. Take me back into town or I’ll make a complaint or two myself about a certain banis lawyer and his unethical behaviour. You know the chuma and how quick we are to believe the worst about you people.” He started the engine. “I do indeed. Have no fear. I haven’t slaughtered any Kelon oppressors in at least six months.” ~~~~~~~~ Nettled by Shardul’s aggressiveness, it took me until the birthday supper was over and the excited twins put to bed, before I realised I’d learned more about the banis—Nihan—in a ten-minute conversation with him than from all the equality training courses on the force. The police force took equality seriously—or claimed to, despite the low recruitment rate of indigenous officers. I’d always assumed the banis weren’t interested in working with the authority of the people they saw as invaders. I’d encountered versions of Shardul a few times, though he’d been the most upfront and fearless. But now I wondered just how much of the lack of interest was caused by the unwelcoming atmosphere. If we couldn’t even manage to call them by their correct names, what did that say about the force? Yashi opened a bottle of wine for the three of us, and as we relaxed after Tara’s wonderful meal, I asked my brother about one of his old girlfriends, from long before Tara had been on the scene. Didn’t stop her giving me a dirty look, on principle, but there was no real jealousy behind it. “Seema?” Yashi said. “Haven’t thought about her for years.” “Is she still on Uterden?” “Sanity, no. She won a professorship back home. Don’t think she’s been here since before we were married,” he added, reassuring Tara with a pat on her hand. “Why?”

“Just acquired a banis client and I could do with talking to an anthropologist. I suppose I could go to the university and ask around.” “You could try but Seema always said the department in Medele U was small and underfunded. All the main research is on Kelon. You’d think with all the material being on Uterden, they’d base themselves here, but there’s no real interest in it here. Maybe it’s changed since her day.” “A banis client? Why would you want to work for them?” Tara asked. “Their money’s as good as anyone else’s. Possibly an interesting case.” I shrugged. “Nothing else was coming up.” “Yes, but it’s not going to do your reputation any good, is it? To be the banis detective. I mean, it’s hard enough with the....” She twirled her finger vaguely beside her ear. “Madness?” She hit me with a cushion. “Empathy, you dork. Your family makes you respectable, but you should be careful. I wouldn’t hire a detective who specialised in working for those people.” “Are you planning to spy on me, beloved?” Yashi asked sweetly and was whacked in turn. “What difference does it make?” I asked her. “Working for them doesn’t make me banis any more than hunting criminals made me one.” “I know.” I sensed her discomfort at my questioning. “But your work’s all about trust, isn’t it? People want to know you understand them, sympathise with them. The banis don’t like us.” Her kameez had a row of geometric shapes around the hem. I wondered if they were banis religious symbols. “We colonised them,” I said. “I don’t know why they can’t get over it,” she said, pulling a face. “First colonisation was three hundred years ago. Plenty of their people live well away from us. If the ones here in Medele hate us that much, why don’t they just move back to Garle? They’ve got a whole country there to themselves—a whole continent. If they want to live like primitives, there’s always Hoshan, though I don’t know how anyone can live like that.” “I guess they’d say we’re the interlopers, so why don’t we go back to Kelon? They were here first, after all.” “But we signed a treaty with them fair and square. No land was taken by force, everything was done strictly by the law, theirs and ours.”

“I know, Tara,” I said. “I don’t really understand it myself. But you have to admit we’re the ones who did best out of the deal.” “That’s not our fault. It’s like they like to wallow in history, looking for reasons to be offended. My principal wrote to a banis community leader to ask them to send someone along to the school to talk about their culture, and she got the rudest letter back. They don’t even want to help us understand them.” “Did you know ‘banis’ is a term of abuse?” She blinked at me, genuinely surprised. “The biracial children at the school call each other that.” “It’s still rude, apparently. I didn’t know it either. I thought it was interchangeable with ‘Nihani’.” “I don’t see how they can be offended if we don’t even know,” Yashi said. “They could have said.” “Maybe they did.” “This is what I meant.” Tara’s voice grew sharp. “You take on a banis client and now suddenly you’re criticising us for things we don’t even know about. If you make people uncomfortable, they won’t hire you, Javen. No one likes to be accused of things they can’t help, or didn’t mean.” “I wasn’t accusing—” My brother gave me a look, annoyance rolling off him, and I shut up. “Sorry. I had a conversation today and it gave me a lot to think about.” “More wine?” Yashi asked, and I didn’t need my empathy to know he wanted the subject changed. He brought up a case from his veterinary practice, and Tara gratefully seized on the story. I let them talk, throwing in a comment here and there, but my mind was elsewhere. On Grandma, to tell the truth. She’d died when I was three, and I had no memories of her. Pictures showed a handsome middle-aged woman with nothing in her features or colouring to indicate banis heritage. None of our family looked anything but pure Kelon. Finding I carried the gene for empathy—a strictly banis trait—had triggered some ugly recriminations between my parents and my grandfather, who’d been completely unaware his wife was not all she’d seemed. But Grandma might not have known. The link could have been generations ago. My curiosity was exactly what Shardul had scorned, but what was the harm? I wasn’t planning to tie my hair into braids, or wear purple lungi, or light candles at midyear and hang them up in trees. I just wanted to know about my family. If I had to live with the consequences in the form of my empathy, which had lost me my job and barred me from

others, then at least I was entitled to know where it had come from. By the time I had ordered my first cup of chai in my usual haunt, Shardul had loaded up my account with links and images about his culture and Nihani cultural artefacts. “Names, I’ll give you in person,” he said in a voice message. “Come to my aunt’s house at two. Do not be late.” Did he seriously expect me to read all this before then? I skimmed it. All of it was by Kelon researchers. I wondered if the banis only wrote about their culture in Nihani, or whether there was some religious reason for them not to. Flicking through the images, I recognised many shapes and patterns incorporated into consumer goods Kelons on Uterden used every day. Decorations in bars, used to give atmosphere. Even this chai house had light catchers in the windows that I now realised were inspired by udawatha meeting house windows. I didn’t understand this obsession with banis imagery. It wasn’t as if indigenous culture or the religion was admired. The Kelon planetary government wasn’t as militantly secular as it had been after the Wars of Religion seventy-five years ago, but I hardly knew anyone here in Medele who wasn’t a Scientific Rationalist, and religious groups on Kelon were small and powerless. The banis might suspect mockery in the way their religion had been appropriated for trivial decoration, but I was pretty sure most Kelons didn’t give the matter that level of thought. They didn’t pay any more attention to the beliefs of Reformed Deists than they did to the udawathei. I presented myself at the house in Tockta Street at one minute to two, and almost laughed at the irritated disappointment I sensed from Shardul. He’d been hoping to tell me off for being late. “Did you read what I sent you?” “Yes. All of it, and I have a list of questions as well.” More disappointment. I hid my grin as I followed him up the stairs. Nice arse. Very nice. He knelt when he entered his aunt’s rooms, and I imitated him, though I didn’t know the reason for the unusual respect. “Thank you for having me back again, Roshni-ji.” “You’re welcome, Sri Ythen. I’m so pleased you’ve agreed to help.” Today she was in purple and crimson, her white hair just as carefully braided as the day before. She asked me to sit and sent Shardul out for the chai. “Before we start, I’d like to apologise for my unintended rudeness yesterday in using your incorrect name, and the name for your people. I’ve come to realise there’s a lot I don’t

know.” She smiled. “Most people’s ignorance is vast, Sri Ythen.” “Please call me ‘Javen’?” “Very well, Javen. Acknowledging one’s lack of knowledge is the first step to repairing it. You have other questions, don’t you? About the monuwel...or about me?” “Both, actually. I know you’re reluctant to tell me, but I really do need to know what the monuwel is to your community, and what your role is.” “I can’t tell you that, Javen.” “I know you don’t want—” A crash of glass and metal interrupted. “She said she can’t tell you. Not ‘won’t’. Stupid guko.” Shardul glared, his pale cheeks red with anger. “She can’t tell you.” “Who can? I’m not asking for idle reasons.” Roshni-ji shifted, anguish and anxiety coming off her in almost visible waves. She stared at her nephew. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Please, muor, don’t be upset. Ythen, we can’t tell you.” “All right. Can I make some guesses and you tell me if I’m hot or cold?” She nodded jerkily. Shardul growled, then brought the chai tray over and set it down with another crash. “Show respect,” he growled. “I’m trying to. Roshni-ji, are you some kind of priestess?” “No. We have no priests or priestesses. Only the guardian of the Seeker’s house, our scholars and those souls who feel the need to commune with the Spirit more deeply and regularly, and spend their days studying the Seeker’s words for the sake of their own inner peace.” “Okay. Losing the monuwel damages your religion in some way?” “Ye...es. That’s a way to put it. Please don’t ask me how.” “I won’t. And your role as...protector...gives you so much status in the community, no udawatha would violate your home?” She sagged with relief. “Yes. Is that enough?” “Yes.” For now, at least. “Shardul, I thought of a better cover story. I have a great aunt back on Kelon who’s more than a little crazy, and who collects all kinds of things. She’s actually so ga-ga no one in my family’s had a conversation with her in years, but I can use her as a cover story. I can say she has a few high quality Nihani artefacts which her family

want sold for the best price, and that I’ve been engaged to make enquiries here on Uterden. I’ve messaged her daughter and got her assurance to field any enquiries that come her mother’s way. If necessary, I’ll mention my empathy, say my aunt’s interest was piqued by that.” “Is that likely?” he asked. “No, but no one needs to know that. My great aunt’s never been to Uterden, and even if anyone asks my family and they don’t know anything about it, I can explain it by their prejudice against your people. Which is real, unfortunately. Sorry to offend you, Roshni-ji.” “I am seventy years old, Javen. There is very little that surprises me any more. Your people don’t understand mine, and what you don’t understand, you fear.” “They make no effort to understand,” Shardul snapped. “My sister-in-law says you don’t make any effort to teach. She works in a primary school and a request to the community centre here to come to the school and talk about your culture was rudely turned down, she says.” “Oh yes? And how was it addressed? How was it framed? As a request or an order? I’ve seen these ‘requests’, Ythen, and all too often the assumption is that the chuma are entitled to our time, for which we have no better use, and that your people are doing us a massive favour by putting us to the inconvenience of teaching them things they’ve already been told and promptly forgotten. Stupid guko,” he spat. I expected his aunt to reprimand him for his rudeness, but she only nodded. “You’ve experienced this, Roshni-ji?” “All too often, Javen. We would happily help your children understand us, but we don’t like being asked to perform, and Shardul is right. We have better uses for our resources than to teach the unwilling.” Somehow I doubted Tara would like me to repeat this explanation. “I understand. Sorry I have to ask you to teach me, but I need to understand what I’m talking about. I have some more questions, if you don’t mind.” I pulled out my reader to make notes and the two of them took turns in explaining. Though Roshni-ji was much more polite than Shardul, her anger over the way their important cultural artefacts had ended up being traded back and forth between rich Kelons was easily as great as his. After an hour, I closed down the conversation. “I’m sorry this is so distressing to you.” She came back to herself. “Ah, I shouldn’t let it upset me. They are only things, after all, and in the Great Spirit, lifeless objects aren’t important.”

“But the living make the objects to record your history and beliefs.” “Yes.” She took a deep breath, and became a little calmer. “What hurts most is how the market in our possessions goes so completely against the teachings of the Seeker and his wisdom. Greed, avarice, the desire to keep another from owning something, are contrary to our culture and our beliefs. It pains me greatly to know the gifts of the Spirit are being used in this way.” “What’s even worse, these stupid chuma thieves believed the artefacts have magical properties, when the Seeker very firmly teaches there is no magic, only natural laws and their working. Claiming magical powers is a very great sin,” Shardul said, his voice oddly reverent, as his aunt’s had been. “The monuwel...to someone who thought that way...would be considered more magical than most things?” “Probably. I don’t pretend to understand the gullible and greedy.” But I did. It was my job. “I’ll need some images of suitably tempting objects. You have a list of people I should talk to?” “I’ll allow you to give me a lift to my office. I’ll give you the information on the way.” I snorted at his cheek, and stood. Roshni-ji turned her blind gaze up to me. “Javen, matos is a talent in which you should be trained. Should you wish it, I’d be happy to give you that training.” “Muor, why waste your time on this guko?” “Shardul, it’s my time to waste.” I ignored Shardul’s glare as I answered his aunt. “Roshni-ji, I’d be honoured to be trained by you. And to listen to you speak more about your beliefs, if you feel you wish to.” “I’d like that, Javen. Very much.” Shardul muttered “Guko” under his breath. “I need to go. Ythen?” I expected him to call a taxi once we were outside but instead he indicated with a jerk of his head that we were to walk. “Nice act you put on for her, but you don’t fool me.” “Your aunt’s an empath, beto. She can tell if anyone’s trying to kid her, and I wasn’t.” “Oh, you probably believe you’ve suddenly become this enlightened pro-indigenous chuma, but I know your kind. I’ll be waiting for you to trip up and show your true colours. Your type always do. Hear this, Ythen. There is more to udawa than symbols and rituals and teachings. There is more to the people of the Spirit than the belief, and the history.

You’ll never understand us, unless you live with us, work with us, suffer with us, and you can’t suffer with us because you are Kelon and you look Kelon. This is an amusing pastime for you. My aunt has given her whole life to the service of our people and the Spirit, as have I. There is no point of commonality between us, no comparison.” I sucked in my teeth. “So, no chance of a shag, then?” “Not if you were the last man in the universe.” I grinned. I’d caught him off guard and he didn’t like that at all. “So what about this list?” “In my office.” “Aren’t you worried about being seen with a chuma?” “My job requires me to consort with low lives from time to time.” “You never give up, do you?” He turned to me and sneered. “No, I do not. And I do not change my mind about people either. You’ve been tagged, bagged and shelved, Ythen.” “Good to know.” His office was a good kilometre from his aunt’s house, right on the edge of the banis neighbourhood. Not that far from the central courthouse, which made sense. “You live upstairs?” “Yes. And that’s as much as you’ll ever know. I don’t date outside my species.” “Whoa. Your aunt got all the decency in your family, didn’t she?” “Yes, pretty much. Come in.” I’d been in a few lawyers’ offices over the years, so I don’t know why it surprised me that Shardul’s wasn’t that different from the others I’d seen. He spoke to two of his clerks on the way through, collecting what were clearly messages, and beckoned me towards an inner door. His banis staff discreetly checked me out, but were either too well trained or too intimidated to stare openly. I couldn’t blame them for their suspicion, even a little anxiety. I smiled brightly and tried not to look too scary. “Sri Ythen, if you don’t mind.” Shardul held his office door open with barely disguised disdain. I slipped through and took a seat without waiting for him to offer it. “You the only lawyer here?” “No. I asked you here because I have to breach a sacred trust, and the least I owe my aunt is not to involve her in that.” “You’re going to tell me what the monuwel is.”

“Yes.” And boy, did it make him unhappy to do so. “If you ever reveal what I tell you to another living soul, I will hunt you down, cut out your liver, and make you eat it. Do you understand?” “Oooh, you make me all hot when you talk dirty like that.” He rolled his eyes. “This is just a joke to you.” “No, it’s not, but you’re being deliberately insulting. My job is about secrets. I know stuff that would curl those pretty braids. I bet I hear more shit than even you do. I don’t talk, ever. I don’t understand your religion and I’d be lying if I said I take any of that stuff seriously, but I respect its importance to your people. I like Roshni-ji and I’d never hurt her. Besides, I know about six udawathei all up. Who the hell would I tell?” He gritted his teeth. He wasn’t exaggerating how hard it was to trust me. “There are three objects of profound significance to udawa. All of them are believed to have been made by the Seeker of the Spirit himself when he was last incarnated. We believe that one of the ways we’ll recognise the Seeker when he is reincarnated once more, as he inevitably will be, is that he will ask for these objects, the gatha, by name. One, the monuwel, is his drinking cup. The second is the sawret, his shirt. The third is the guzmei, his pouch. My aunt is one of the three keepers of the gatha. The role is passed from incarnation of each keeper to incarnation, and the stigmata of the reincarnated keeper is—” “Blindness.” “Yes. Not just blindness, but blindness in that form. It’s very rare, and considered a mark of the Spirit.” “Is that why you don’t get the disability cured? Not because you can’t afford the prostheses?” His lip curled in disdain. “We don’t consider it a disability. The keepers can have prostheses implanted or not, as they choose. Some choose not to, as my aunt did not. They consider the blindness bestows other benefits.” Wow. Very crazy. “Okay, so that explains why none of your people would rob your aunt.” “Yes. She couldn’t tell you because even talking to close relatives about it is frowned on, though often inevitable for many reasons. Telling an unbeliever about it is unthinkable. I’m only telling you because retrieving the monuwel is more important than keeping this secret.” “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. But still—you know, Sohan knows. What if relatives of previous keepers were a bit careless with private knowledge? It’s possible, right?”

He wrinkled his elegant nose. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been able to find no trace of this, but I can’t deny it could have happened. The interest in the udawathei’s ‘magical’ powers has been intense since the second wave of colonisation. The first colonists, having their own religion, scorned such ideas.” “Okay. Well, at least I know what I’m looking for, and what to use as a hook. The other gatha are safe?” “Yes.” “But if I were to say I had access to one or other....” “You could hook your fish. But they’re very big fish, Ythen.” He opened a drawer in his desk and drew out a folded sheet of paper, which he handed over. It was handwritten, in a surprisingly beautiful script too. I scanned the list. “Whoa. You’re not joking.” “I never am. If you wave bait under the noses of people like this, you had better be prepared to reel them in fast. People are often prepared to commit violence to obtain objects of value to them. I have reason to believe these men are definitely not exceptions to the rule. If you use your relative’s name...you could be exposing her to danger.” “Even on Kelon?” “Especially on Kelon.” Cursed insanity. “Thanks for the warning. Surprised you care about a chuma you’ll never meet.” “Even though your people are ignorant of the Seeker’s teachings, the Spirit created you and all that you see around you, though I wish it had been seen fit to make you all udawatha.” “Bit of a theological conundrum for you, isn’t it? Spend a lot of time thinking about them?” “Hardly any. I’ve done what I asked you here for. Now leave. I expect regular reports.” “Sure. But one thing—if someone outside your community knows about the gatha, and your aunt was targeted, then the other keepers could be at risk. Especially since they’ve all got that handy identification.” I pointed to my eyes. “You can move the objects to safer places, but I guess you don’t want to risk the people either.” “Indeed not. A good point,” he allowed grudgingly. “Is that all?” “Yeah, and I’m going.” I stood and went to the door, and turned. “Oh Shardul? If you were the last man on the planet?”

He gave me the dead fish stare. “Yes?” “You’d be in with a chance.” As I made my escape, his fury was the wind beneath my wings. ~~~~~~~~ I need to lay down a solid cover, so even though I had Shardul’s list and some images of objects I’d been assured would get collectors drooling, I spent a day visiting small dealers, telling them the story of my eccentric aunt and her somewhat baffling interest in indigenous culture. I hoped word would filter up to the big guys of my interest. I didn’t mention the monuwel or the other gatha. Instead, I let the traders entice me with tempting bids, for me to supposedly send back to my aunt for approval. It would take time for the cover to take, and if the object was somewhere else on Medele, I could be wasting my time. Hegal was the capital but there were other cities, other places with wealthy people who collected artefacts. There was also a risk the monuwel might be sent off world, but it might already have gone. I didn’t have a choice. There was too much danger of alerting the thief to my real motives. If he or she was on Shardul’s list, then we were talking about someone rich, powerful and smart. My main weapon was their greed. I had to play my line very carefully. I pretended to myself that visiting my grandfather up in the Tudon Hills was all part of building the cover, but it wasn’t really. To tell the truth, I felt horribly guilty for avoiding him since the argument between him and my parents two years ago, while I was still recovering from gunshot wounds and trying to take in the news that my injuries meant I had to leave the job I loved, for reasons I’d never anticipated. I’d never held it against Grandma, and certainly not against Granddad, but things were tense enough with my parents at the best of times without me stirring the pot. But it was time for me to deal with what had been left in such a mess, and hopefully learn a bit more about the woman who’d had such an impact on my life. I thought I’d surprise my grandfather, fully prepared to have to spend the night in a hotel if he was away, but his auto was in his garage, and I found him working in the little flower garden at the front of his neat house. A home he’d built after his wife died, one he could manage on his own. My parents owned his old place, and rented it out. I liked this one better. He stood, cricked his back, then saw me. A huge grin split his aged face. “Javen? Sainted reason, I was just thinking of you, boy.” I hugged him, enjoying his familiar smell and his unalloyed pleasure at my arrival. “Hi, Granddad. Been thinking of you a lot too, lately. Missed you.”

“Thought you were mad at me, Javen. No one visits from the family any more. Rajan and Lochana have never forgiven me.” “Which makes no sense at all. Want to talk out here? I can help you weed.” He grinned. “Just like old times. Sure. I see you came dressed for it.” No city clothes around Granddad. He’d once been a family doctor, but had retired ten years ago. I couldn’t remember him in anything but kurtas and salwars, even when he was seeing patients. We soaked in the welcome rays of the sun as we worked. I brought him up to speed on what I’d been doing since I left the force. “Private detective, eh? Your parents must be thrilled.” “You know they’re not. After all the grief I got for joining the police force, now they’re saying at least that’s a respectable career. Mum offered to pay me to give it up.” “Sounds like Lochana. Rajan wasn’t like that as a boy. Proud, I mean. I don’t think he’d have minded your empathy half as much if your mother wasn’t so bothered by it. No offence intended. She’s a fine woman, always said so.” “Did you know Grandma was biracial when you married her?” He paused, staring down at a red and orange flower as if trying to decide whether to let it live or pull it up. “She didn’t know, not then. Wouldn’t have made a bit of difference to me if she had. All this stuff about pure breeding is a crock, excuse my language. It’s not like empathy’s a disease. Pure ignorance, if you ask me.” “When did she find out?” “Same way you did. She came down with nukerlian flu—there was an outbreak in the forties, before your dad was born. Very severe, killed a lot of older people, babies. She pulled through okay, but then she started complaining about mood swings, feeling angry or happy for no reason. One day we worked out it was connected to my emotions, or those of my clinic employees, and we figured what had happened.” “But you never told anyone?” “Who would care? The anti-empathy laws hadn’t been enacted, she worked at home, and there was no good reason to tell folk who didn’t need to know. And, well, when those civil liberty types started yelling about it being an invasion of privacy and all that, we just kept quiet. Never thought it would affect you, son. Sorry.” “Not your fault, and it’s not like I could have stopped it. It’s in the genes. The only way to not have it would not to be born.”

“Yashi’s not worried?” “He wouldn’t be affected even if it triggered. That’s the nice thing about being a vet.” “That, and patients who don’t give you any backtalk.” I grinned. “True. Granddad, did Grandma know where the indigenous connection was? Did she ever trace her family back?” “Well, not sure. I’ve got the marriage certificates for her parents and her grandparents, if you’d like to take a look. Further back than that, I don’t know. You planning on digging?” “With your permission. It’ll give me some cover on this case I’m working on, and I’d like to know.” He eased himself to his feet and cracked his back. “Then come inside and we’ll talk over lunch. You staying?” “If you don’t mind.” “Spare room’s been sitting empty a long time. It’ll be nice to have some company.” ~~~~~~~~ By the time I left Granddad’s house two days later, my cousin on Kelon had reported some interesting—and interested—messages from dealers on Uterden, including two I hadn’t spoken to at all. She’d acted as her mother’s assistant and told them I was acting with authorisation, conveying, she said, a rather sniffy attitude to the whole business. She enjoyed the game, I thought. The importance to the udawathei didn’t enter into it. On my return to Hegal, a visit to another artefact dealer got me what I was really after —the suggestion to contact two of the names on Shardul’s list. I needed a trail that could be followed back to a legitimate, non-banis contact. Now I had it. I sent a message to my targets’ offices, asking for a meeting, dangling some lesser bait. Now to wait again. Shardul called me just as I was headed to the Records office to follow up what Granddad had told me. “Shardul, I was going to call you this—” “Someone just broke into another keeper’s house, and attacked him. Knocked him down.” “Damn it. How is he?” “He’s shaken up. He’s younger than my aunt but not physically impressive.” “And the object? “The object is safe, since it was moved some time ago.”

“No accident.” “Not in the least. We’ve increased security around all three of them.” “Which was it, the shirt or the...?” “The shirt.” “And the perps? Yours, mine?” “Our keeper said they were masked, and they didn’t speak. He was too shocked to give a decent description. Of course, the police are taking it about as seriously as I expect them to.” “I could talk to some of the guys I know, see if they can push it a bit harder.” Though with the banis community hiding crucial facts, and no description of the attackers, the police wouldn’t have much to go on. “To what end? If they’re chuma, they’ll never come to trial, and the real thief will escape.” “Even if I retrieve the object, others may try for them.” “Yes. It’s being handled within our community. Don’t concern yourself.” “We need to find the link between your people and those after the objects.” Shardul laughed. “Ythen, everyone on that list employs our people. They’re ‘proindigenous’. Very proud of their work with the ethnics. Three of them even have biracial mistresses.” “So if they knew about...the things, it wouldn’t be hard to find out who their keepers were.” “Not at all.” “Spectacular.” “They shouldn’t know about...the objects.” “That dog’s off the leash, Shardul. Money and power can open just about anything— doors, lips, legs.” “Speaking from personal experience?” he asked sweetly. “Hey, I’m cheap. A nice meal, bottle of Kirdan wine, and you could have your wicked, wicked way with me.” “Not if you were—” “—the last man on the planet. Yeah, I know. You did ask.” “I have work to do. So have you.”

He closed the call. I grinned even though there was no good news in what he’d told me. Shardul was a very pretty man with a powerful ego, and I’d always been a fool for them. Been taken for a fool by them too, but that was the price I paid for risks that paid off sometimes. Focus, Javen. Whoever was behind this was desperate and not too picky about hurting people. Getting into Shardul’s salwars wouldn’t solve the case, or get me paid. I figured my genealogical studies fitted in with my cover, so I carried on my way to the Records office. The clerk I asked about how to trace my ancestors was terribly polite and helpful until I mentioned the indigenous connection, and then her emotions were a lot less positive. She remained polite as she explained that prior to the second wave of colonisation, indigenous marriages weren’t recognised or registered. “Let’s see how far we can go back with legitimate unions,” she said, poking at her screen. “Ah, there’s your great-great grandparents, and their issue. Would you like a print of that?” “Of course. And the previous generation?” She found two previous marriages, and the earliest ancestors listed were recorded on transit logs. “No banis connection at all,” she said brightly, once again cheerful. “Isn’t that lucky?” “Well, not exactly, since I’m empathic. There has to be a connection.” “Oh.” She actually moved away a little, revolted. “You could have said.” “Why? Does it matter?” “Yes. It’s...an invasion of privacy. In fact...I think I’ll have to ask someone else to help you, sir.” “Don’t bother. I’m done.” I gathered up the print outs, paid the hour consultation rate at the exit counter, and drew in lungfuls of clean air as soon as I was outside. I should have been used to it by now, but the rejections still hurt. I shook myself and looked at the information I’d gathered. No sign of banis heritage anywhere, at least not officially. I’d need help tracking it down, but I couldn’t justify wasting more time on it today. I’d call Granddad and tell him what I’d found though. My phone rang. “Sri Ythen, I’m Sri Duadi’s assistant. You sent a message about some indigenous artefacts you are offering for sale?” “Well, it’s my aunt, and it depends on the price offered, but yes. Are you interested?” “Sri Duadi has a slot free tomorrow afternoon at two. If you’re free, please bring either

the items or clear holographic representations to his office. Shall we expect you?” “Yes, of course.” I mentally rubbed my hands with glee. Arun Duadi was head of a major Pledeke Corp subsidiary. A big fish. I called Shardul and told him. “Can you get me holograms of the items?” “Of course. I’ll transmit them in time for the meeting. You plan to dangle the major bait?” “Yes. I’ll be vague though. I’ve warned my cousin to expect an increase of interest.” “Good.” “Shardul, what do you know about pre-second wave registration of indigenous-Kelon marriages?” He snorted. “That your people gave more importance to recording the breeding of their pets than our people. Udawatha marriages had no legal status in Kelon courts, the children were considered illegitimate and their births unregistered, and offspring of such relationships did not automatically inherit unless explicitly mentioned in a Kelon-language will. Many children had what was rightfully theirs stolen, and generations lived in poverty because of chuma greed.” “But your people kept records?” “Of course. Where is this going, Ythen?” “I’m trying to find out where the empathy came from. I’ve traced records back to my Kelon ancestors arrival on the planet, but there’s nothing about any indigenous marrying in.” “There won’t be. Like I said, your people are all about taint. If we didn’t exist in their system, they could pretend we didn’t exist at all.” “Yeah, yeah, past history—” “Your history, my life,” he snapped. “I’m busy.” “Wait. I’m sorry. Look, I just want to talk to someone who could help me find the connection. I’m really interested in this, and so’s my grandfather. My grandmother was matos, he said.” Shardul fell silent, but didn’t end the call. I felt somewhat ridiculous pursuing this with him, but it wasn’t like his good opinion meant anything to me, or that his hatred of all things Kelon was personal. I sought information, and he was best placed to offer it. Finally he said, “I’ll send you a contact. One of our people who pursues this as a hobby

cum part time business. But you’re not being employed to draw your family tree.” “I know that. This is all on my time. Thanks.” He closed the call without a word. I wondered what I could do with the information, other than tell my grandfather, who might gain a little comfort from it. Yashi would be interested in an intellectual way. Tara would receive it with thin-lipped politeness. My parents, would not thank me at all. But I’d always believed knowledge was power, and not knowing something made me snarly. So now I could find an answer, I had to find it. Yashi had a late clinic and had asked me to give him a lift home. “How was Granddad?” “Older. Lonely. He misses us.” “I know. I keep saying to Tara we should get up there but we never do. It’s not good enough, I realise that.” “He’s seventy-eight. Won’t be around forever. And that crap about Grandma wasn’t his fault. Mum and Dad haven’t been reasonable at all about it.” “Yeah. I never did agree with them, you know that, right?” “I figured but with Tara and everything....” “It’s harder on her, being a teacher. Parents hear a rumour, gossip, and it’s all through the school in a minute. People are a bit touchy now anyway, with the push to have the government officially recognise indigenous mistreatment during the first colonisation. Most of us are second-comers. We didn’t have anything to do with the first colonisation. We did everything fair and legal, and didn’t take over anything by force.” “I know, but the Kelons did do some bad stuff. Did you know they didn’t even recognise banis marriages during that period? No wonder they hate us.” “See, I don’t get why they do. I’m not part of the first colony. I don’t want to apologise for something I didn’t do.” I bit my lip. It was only what I’d told myself a dozen times, a hundred times before. But Shardul’s words—“Your history, my life”—resonated in my head. “Yashi, Grandma was empathic too.” He whistled. “Yeah? You know, that explains a lot. Dad said he never could lie to her. Just like you.” I grinned. “One benefit, kind of anyway. Dad doesn’t know, by the way. I don’t think he’d appreciate being told.”

“He’d cope, but Mum would throw a splinter. Yet it’s not like it’s illegal to be part banis.” “Maybe the two of us should try talking to her, alone.” “Maybe.” There was no great enthusiasm in his voice or his emotions. “But I’ll arrange a visit to Granddad. He deserves to see the boys, and I love that house.” “He misses Grandma so much, still. If we tell Mum that, it might soften her attitude.” “Maybe. She never liked him that much. With him being a doctor and her family being working class, I get the impression she thought Dad’s parents didn’t approve of her.” “Granddad doesn’t think like that at all.” But I’d forgotten that detail about Mum’s family. “We should talk to her.” Yashi shrugged. “We can try.” Then we were at the house, and it was time to put a lid on that topic. ~~~~~~~~ Pledeke Corp’s glittering headquarters were a long way from the mines and factories on which its vast wealth was founded. Arun Duadi’s office within the building offered a fine view of Hegal and the western mountains, but I bet he spent very little time looking out the window. The room was dominated by sleek black and glass shelves on which sat discreetly lit banis artefacts. Even with my cursory training, I recognised the rarity of some, and the beauty and significance of all. I sat in a luxurious leather armchair and accepted the chai offered in translucent porcelain. “You have a very fine collection, Sri Duadi.” “Thank you, Sri Ythen. Do you acquire indigenous material yourself?” “No. I don’t really have anywhere to store such things. I live in my brother’s house, and well, the banis are a bit of a touchy subject there. My aunt’s interest in the artefacts is slightly embarrassing.” Duadi’s assistant gave me a polite smile, but I sensed hostility. The man was banis, which I hadn’t expected from his call. Duadi’s smile was a little more genuine. “Such prejudice, and for no reason. I have many indigenous friends—I should say, udawatha friends—and employees. Fine people, all of them, with a very rich culture. Speaking of which...would you like to show me what your aunt is offering on the market?” I gave him the holostick, and he inserted it into his desk player. Shardul had done a lovely job with the images, and each had a convincing looking accession card next to it in his flowing hand. I’d spent the morning boning up about each item, but Duadi, brimming

with enthusiasm, told me about them before I could. “Oh, she has an eye for the detailed beadwork,” he said, cooing over a necklace. “Of course she would. This is a lovely, lovely piece. What have you been quoted for it?” I coughed. “Um, I’m afraid that’s confidential. I’ll be happy to pass your offer to her, of course.” “I understand. I wonder where she acquired that jug? So few of that style on the market, and I didn’t realise any had reached Kelon. Vishva, perhaps you could make more enquiries.” “Yes, sir.” The man gave me an evil look, the hostility increasing. I hoped Shardul hadn’t slipped up, including something so rare. Duadi had already moved onto the next piece. When he had run through them all, his enthusiasm had diminished somewhat. “I’ll have Vishva prepare some offers and contact you. I’m not sure the cost of reimporting them is justified. Is that really all you have?” “My cousin did say there was some material her mother seemed to have acquired and not known what to do with. A rather ordinary shirt with a note from a third party identifying it as ‘getha’ or ‘githa’—she couldn’t really read it. She thinks it’s a Nihani item but knows nothing about it.” Vishva sat bolt upright, his face blank, anger and anxiety pouring off him, but Duadi didn’t notice or react at all. He was now somewhat bored, my entertainment value spent. “Means nothing to me. Vishva will be in touch. Thank you for coming, Sri Ythen. A shame your aunt has to sell her precious collections.” “Well, old age can be cruel, and the family have to look to her future, sad to say. Nice to meet you.” Vishva walked me out, and as soon as we were in the elevator and private, he gripped my arm, and told the console to halt at a floor above the exit level. “What are you up to?” I demanded. “I must speak to you, Sri Ythen. It’s important.” The floor was some kind of relaxation area, with glass doors opening onto spacious balconies. He led me out onto one, and as the doors hissed shut behind us, he said, “These items you are selling. They belong to my people. I know some who would offer to buy them back. Even that shirt. Anything that might belong to the udawathei.” “You prepared to match Duadi’s price? I’m acting in my aunt’s interest, not yours. My family’s not a charity.”

He bit his lip, desperation in every nerve. “At least let us try to match what he offers. Even for some of the items. We’ll buy even the less desirable items.” “Like the shirt.” “Yes.” “Something about that I should know, Sri Vishva?” “No. I just want my people’s heritage kept here on Uterden.” “Does your boss know your attitude to his hobby?” “No. And you can’t tell him. He does a lot of good things for my people. He respects our culture. Just in this one area, he has...a blind spot.” “Uh huh. Well, I’ll think about it. You’ll know what he’s offering. I’ll let you try and match it. And I’ll pass on your wishes to my cousin for her consideration. Can’t do more than that.” His shoulders sagged. “Thank you. Are you offering the items to anyone else here?” “I’ve been in touch with Tanmay Kly.” He stiffened. “He won’t want to pay as much as Sri Duadi. You’d be wasting your time.” “Maybe.” He grabbed my sleeve. “Please. We must have those objects back. Everything, however unappealing.” I shook him off. “I said I’d let you bid. Now we’re done, I think. I’ll make my own way out. Good day, Sri Vishva.” I called Shardul as soon as I left the building. “Scratch Duadi off the list. He didn’t even twitch at the bait, and he’s got a lieutenant actively trying to block him from acquiring anything culturally sensitive. Guy called Vishva. Know him?” “Yes. He’s from a good family, very devoted to udawa. He would never reveal secrets to a chuma.” “I figured that. So onto the next.” “I’ve sent you the contact details for my cousin. She does genealogical research as a part-time business. Sees the occasional chuma client, so you won’t excite any curiosity if you turn up. She charges nearly as much as you do,” he added sweetly. “Hey, I’m worth every dolar. How many cousins do you have?” “Enough for my needs. Report when you have news.”

When I checked my messages, Shardul’s was right above one from Tanmay Kly, inviting me to come to his house at ten the next morning, with all the information about the artefacts on offer. Looked like having high-quality banis artefacts was one sure entrée into the company of the rich and powerful on Uterden. I sent a message to Shardul’s cousin, asking when she might have time to see me, and another to Kly, accepting the invitation. Now for more wait and see. The investigating business was still slow, apart from this one case, so I had plenty of leisure before heading back to the house, to drink chai and play with my family tree. I had no images, mental or physical, of any of these people past my grandparents’ parents, and I knew nothing of their lives. My grandfather had come from Kelon, as had my other grandparents. Grandma was the only link to Uterden. Had she been a Scientific Rationalist? Or a Reformed Deist like the early colonists? Religion had played a big part in the first colonists’ lives, and even in some of the second-comers. I couldn’t imagine an existence dominated by rituals and superstition, yet it was how the banis—udawathei—lived their lives. Not that I knew anything about their beliefs beyond what Shardul and his aunt had told me, and a little picked up here and there from watching kids at school, before Yashi and I were sent to the exclusive academy intended to groom us for careers in business and politics. No indigenous scholars there, but we still managed to disappoint our Dad by rejecting his wishes, and going our own way. I read the bare details of my great-great-great-great-grandparents, Udy and Mallika. Their parents had all come over from Kelon, so they were the first in their line to marry on Uterden soil. They’d raised twin girls, Sudha and Birati. Sudha had married and given birth to my great-great-grandfather. Birati never married or had children. I wondered why, since fertility and marriage were highly valued by early colonists, and indeed still were. But then I looked at the birth date of the twins—seven years before Udy and Mallika had married. Odd. Births outside marriage weren’t unknown but why wait seven years? And why did they stop having kids? Medical problems? Separation? I desperately wanted to know, which surprised me. I loved my immediate, living family, but I’d never been interested in their history, or history as a subject. I’d studied what I’d needed to matriculate, and then I concentrated on forensics and policing methods in my university studies. The pasts of the criminals I pursued as a cop never interested me either. I figured their sad, sad lives were for the justice system to consider. I just hauled them in and charged them. But Udy and Mallika, Sudha and Birati intrigued me enough to raise it over dinner with the family. “Why would someone not marry the mother of his children for seven years?” I asked. The kids had gone to bed and we ate our adult meal in peace.

“Because she was married to someone else?” Tara suggested. “Or he was,” Yashi said. “Maybe the kids were adopted?” “Hmmm, nothing on the records about that. Would have been a bit of a scandal though, if they did have kids while married to other people. Can’t see that going down well in that kind of society.” “People have messy lives,” Tara said. “Look how many Kelon men went off with banis women, even though it was frowned on.” “I wonder what the attraction was,” Yashi said. “I know every colony ship that left Kelon in those days was balanced for the sexes, so it wasn’t a shortage of women.” “Yeah, but some of the women might have not have wanted to marry, or maybe the indigenous religion appealed more to the men. Reformed Deists were pretty strict back then. Lots of rules.” “The banis religion has rules, doesn’t it?” Tara asked. “I suppose. Don’t know for sure. Maybe the men just thought the women were prettier. Exotic.” “More willing,” Tara said. I gave her a look. “What? Everyone says they are.” They did say that. “Maybe more willing than highly religious colonist women anyway.” “They didn’t care about being married either.” “What makes you think that?” “I learned that in school,” she said, in a tone suggesting I should have known that. “There were no marriages among the indigenous people until the Kelon arrived.” “No, they were married but the Kelon government refused to register them. Even if one of the partners was Kelon. Wouldn’t register the births either. The banis weren’t very happy about that.” She stared at me. “Why wouldn’t they register the marriages?” “At a guess, because they weren’t carried out under a Kelon religion. Or maybe because of concern about racial purity. Did you really not know that?” “No.” Her mouth snapped shut, and she picked up our plates with jerky, irritated movements to match what I sensed from her. But then she turned to me. “Are you sure?” “Absolutely sure. Our people even denied the automatic right of indigenous and biracial children to inherit from their parents if they weren’t married under Kelon law— even though Kelon law made that impossible.”

“I didn’t know,” she murmured. “There must have been a reason, though.” “Prejudice doesn’t need a reason,” Yashi pointed out, and I was glad he did since it was better coming from him than me. “So maybe their women aren’t as slutty as you think.” “Don’t use words like that, Yashi.” She went into the kitchen. My twin just shrugged at me. I didn’t know if I was grateful for this case opening up my eyes to what I should have already known. But now they were open, I had to learn more. ~~~~~~~~ As I drove to my appointment with Tanmay Kly, a message came through from Shardul’s cousin saying a cancellation had opened a slot for me at twelve if I could make it so soon. I figured I should be done with Kly by then, and accepted. Everyone knew where Tanmay Kly lived. His house was on easily the biggest estate in Hegal, and the regular venue for glittering parties for this and that product launch or charity fundraiser. Parts of it were even open to the public on certain days of the year, when his impressive art collection was on display. I’d never been inside. Now I’d see what I’d been missing. It seemed to take nearly as long to drive from the heavily guarded gate to the front of the house as it had to get to the place from Yashi’s. I guessed Sri Kly didn’t have to trot down to his own mailbox to pick up his post, but if he did, he’d need a packed lunch. All the staff at the gate and now at the house were banis. Didn’t surprise me after Duadi, but it didn’t strike me as a very ‘pro-indigenous’ act to employ them exclusively as domestic servants. That could be my prejudices talking though. I’d always disliked the idea of other people doing what I could do perfectly well myself. For all I knew, the banis working here were happy with their lot. I’d detected nothing to make me think otherwise. Not yet, anyway. The house was an architectural masterpiece, discussed as such in media spreads even as far as Kelon, which had little interest in colonial affairs. Like all Kelon buildings in Medele, it strongly featured windows, terraces and balconies to catch as much sun as possible. Unusually, it was half hidden by colourful climbing plants, so it blended into the landscape. Most Kelon houses made a virtue of their separateness from the terrain, as if quarantining themselves from a foreign land. The effect of this house was rather restful on the eye. But I had little time to admire it, for a dark-suited banis woman came to greet me, and

led me without delay into a spacious, open-to-the-sky living area. Sri Kly, instantly recognisable, was there already. Another man sat beside him. I didn’t know his face. “Sri Ythen, welcome. Please do take a seat. Tell me, how is Rajan? I haven’t seen him since last year at the governors’ end of session dinner.” “He’s well, sir.” Of course Kly would know my father, and all the other regional governors. “I must ask him and your beautiful mother over for dinner soon. But it’s another relative I hear you’re acting for this time. Tell me about it.” I recited the now easily told lie while I discreetly examined Kly. He was in his midsixties, but looked older, and in poor health, though his straight-backed bearing tended to disguise it. I wondered just how sick he was. The other man was younger. He listened to all that was said with an avid, almost manic gleam in his eyes, radiating an unfocused excitement and protectiveness towards Kly, which I thought a bit odd. As with the assistant who’d remained standing near the door, no one introduced him. Kly listened patiently to my fabricated yarn, and then politely asked to see the artefact images. His assistant rushed up silently with a holoplayer, set it up, and just as quietly and quickly returned to her position near the door. Kly was far less impressed by my collection than Duadi had been, flicking swiftly through the images without any excited commentary. The other man leaned forward to look too, but didn’t comment, though Kly glanced at him from time to time as if to confirm they were in agreement. “Very nice, but nothing that I haven’t already seen. She had some excellent advice, I must say. Unusual for a collection on Kelon to be so well planned. A shame she won’t be continuing with it. However, I can’t really say I’m moved to bid for it. I’m sorry.” “That’s all right. I’ve had some interest from Sri Duadi.” Kly smiled politely at the name, but I sensed the sneer behind it. From the stranger, much greater hostility, well concealed behind a benign expression. “There was one thing I wondered if you could shed some light on. My cousin says there’s a shirt with a rather odd label.” I gave him the guff I’d given Duadi—with very different results. This time the intense interest of all three was piqued, though Kly did his best to hide it. “You know what it could be?” The stranger was bug-eyed with excitement. Who was this guy? “It sounds like the shirt is claimed to be one of the three gatha,” Kly said. “But I regret to say it must be a fake. They turn up from time to time. No one outside the indigenous

community would ever have seen or had access to such an item.” “‘Gatha’?” The stranger answered. “Three sacred relics—a shirt, a cup and a pouch. Probably the most valuable and revered items in the udawa religion.” Kly smiled, but he wasn’t pleased at the interruption. “Ah, excuse my manners. Sri Gagan is my one of my advisors on my collection.” Gagan gave a little bow. “Kly-ji is my superior in knowledge. I add a little expertise here and there. You have no idea where this shirt was obtained?” “No idea. You think it could be real then?” He looked at Kly who shook his head slowly. “It’s certainly a fake. I don’t suppose your cousin sent you an image?” Kly was an actor of some skill, but he couldn’t stop his hands shaking in excitement. They were both lying. They wanted the shirt, and badly. “Yes, she did, last night when I told her I would be meeting you.” I adjusted the player display. “Sorry it’s not clearer. I think she was in a hurry.” Kly began to cough, his face turning alarmingly red. His assistant moved over smoothly and poured him a glass of water, and handed him a pill. “Excuse me. I have to take this medication at strict times. Most tiresome.” His breathing eased, but the avarice did not. “Yes, the shirt is very obviously a fake.” “How can you be sure if no Kelon has seen it?” “Well...it’s too modern. See that detail there? That’s almost second-wave. Little more than a tourist item, in fact.” “Ah. I’ll have my cousin dispose of it then.” A spike of alarm from both men, but Kly said smoothly, “Yes, probably wise. But actually, I have a friend at the university who’s making a study of such material, would you believe? Fakes aimed at the unsuspecting Kelon collector. There’s an exhibition of such fraudulent items to be held at the museum later this year. I don’t suppose your cousin would care to donate it for study? I’d pay the costs, of course.” I pretended dubiousness. “I suppose I could ask her. She might not be too happy for the family to be associated with something like this.” “It’s entirely respectable. I could ask my friend to write to her.” “Okay,” I said, exuding a polite lack of interest in the whole matter. “No harm in that.” “I tell you what. As a gesture of goodwill, and to compensate your cousin for her trouble, I could put a bid in on the rest of the collection—sight unseen—and guarantee to

offer ten percent more than the best price she’s been quoted. The artefacts would make a handsome donation to the museum, though I don’t want them myself. Good for tax purposes, and it would be a mere pittance to me.” “That’s very generous. I’ll certainly put that to her. I was wondering though—the real gatha. Would they be valuable?” Kly was suddenly wary, though his smile never altered. “Yes and no. The rarity would make them desirable. But I collect for beauty and by all accounts, the three gatha are extremely plain, even rather ugly pieces. I’d acquire them if I thought they were genuine, but then I’d offer them back to the Nihan anyway. I don’t believe we should plunder such intimate items from a culture.” “It’s a wonder no one’s tried to steal them, if they’re so valuable.” “I’m sure they have, but the udawathei guard their treasures very well.” A blast of pure loathing came from the woman at the door, at odds with the smugness I sensed from him and Gagan both. What did that mean? “Well, I wouldn’t want to encourage anyone to steal from the banis,” I said. “I’ll ask my cousin about the shirt, and your offer.” “Yes, do. Thank you for your time, and please, mention me to your father. Tell him I’ll be in touch soon.” “Certainly. Thanks for seeing me, Sri Kly. Good day, Sri Gagan.” His assistant came to see me out to the front of the house. After her reaction indoors, I expected another plea not to sell more of her heritage, but she simply signalled to another servant to bring my auto around, and left me there without another word. What to make of it? Kly wanted the gatha, no doubt about it. Did that mean he’d stolen the monuwel? Did his assistant know the truth, or was she simply reacting to her boss’s hypocrisy? And who was this Gagan? I sent a message to Shardul, asking him to call me after my meeting with his cousin. I also sent my own cousin a note to prepare her for some signs of interest, and possible attempts to seize the non-existent shirt. I needed her to be guarded but not to reject overtures outright. If Kly turned out to be honest, I’d have to come up with some artefacts and a fake shirt, or a damn good excuse as to why he couldn’t have them. Shardul’s cousin, Rupa Ela Nirav, lived in a semi-rural district on the other side of Hegal where many banis owned small farms producing meat, eggs and vegetables for sale within their community. I couldn’t recall ever going there on duty. It was as crime-free an area as a cop could dream of.

Her house was on a vegetable farm, though I heard the squeals of kolija as I parked up. A slender, heavily pregnant young woman answered the door. I assumed this was Rupa’s daughter. “Javen Ythen for Sushri Rupa?” “Come in, Sri Ythen, I’ve been expecting you.” “You’re Rupa?” “Yes. Is that a problem?” “No. I just thought a genealogist would be...older.” She laughed. “I will be one day. Come through to my office.” There were other people in the building, but I saw no one else as she led me through to a large, open room spread with charts and pictures. “Now, did Shardul tell you what I charge?” “A lot.” She grinned. “Yes, sadly. A hundred an hour, two hundred minimum up front. So here are my details, if you would like to transfer the funds?” Fortunately I’d prepared for this, and the transaction was completed in a couple of minutes. “Excellent,” she said. “So, tell me your story, and let me know what you have.” She listened intently to my tale of how I’d learned of my heritage, and the family reaction, then examined the family tree I’d put together. She homed in immediately on the anomalous birthdates of my great-great-great-great-great-grandparents’ twin daughters. “That could be a sign of a previous intermarriage with our people.” “On her side or his?” “Definitely his. There are no records at all of any indigenous men marrying Kelon women from the first colonisation. Several stories of our men being killed or beaten for the presumption of loving them, though.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s nice to hear you say that, Sri Ythen. Pity more of your people don’t feel that way.” I thought it was a bad time to bring up what my brother had said. “Mallika is listed as the mother of the twins.” “Yes, but that sometimes happened in adoptions. I see Birati never married. ‘Birati’ is the Kelon version of the indigenous name, ‘Bharati’, which tends to support the idea of adoption. If she really was biracial, it would be most unusual for her not to have married.” “You think she did and it’s another unregistered marriage?”

She smiled. “Unregistered by the Kelon, perhaps. Let me look. You have time for me to do this now, or would you prefer to come back?” “No, please, carry on. I’d really like to know.” She fairly glowed with energy as she looked through her records, both digital and paper. I itched to leaf through the books on her shelves, just because they looked so old they had to be interesting. Only they were in Nihani, which I couldn’t read, and I doubted she wanted a Kelon trawling through her people’s records. My people? Shardul said not. Why did I care about it anyway? She suddenly gave a crow of triumph. “Found it. Just as I thought. Come and look.” Her screen was full of Nihani words, but her notes were in Kelon. “Your ancestor Udy married a indigenous woman a year before his twin daughters were born. His name’s recorded in the Nihani form, ‘Uday Thrishna Dhiren’, naming his parents. His wife was Kala Lekha Tejas. She died four years later. A fire, the record says.” “Wow.” I tried to imagine losing a wife in a tragic accident, left with three year old twins to raise. “So he married a Kelon woman, and she adopted the children?” “Yes. But here’s the interesting bit. Twenty years later, there’s another marriage record for Udy, this time to a Trupti Veena Kanha.” “But there’s no divorce noted in the Kelon records.” “No. But there is a bill of separation filed with Udy’s putative clan head—the one he would have sworn allegiance to at the time of his first marriage. And the interesting thing is that it’s with the consent of his Kelon wife. I’ve never seen that before. She also gave her consent to his remarriage, which is unusual even for us.” “What does it mean, do you think?” “I can only guess at this stage, though I might find some more evidence by digging, but I think the marriage to Mallika was one of convenience. Maybe she was homosexual, or had a lover, or just wanted her family off her back. Then he fell in love again, and she let him go. I think he probably kept strong ties to the indigenous community, and she was a cover to give himself a bit of respectability with the Kelons. I’ve seen something similar before, though not with the wife’s consent to remarry.” “And the banis—I mean, indigenous—wouldn’t mind he was already married?” “Since the Kelon ignored our marriages, we thought it only right to ignore yours when it suited.” “And Birati?”

“I was right—she married under her Nihani name, Bharati Kala Uday. Had five children, twin boys. Twins run in your family?” “They certainly do. This is incredible. Thank you.” “Not every Kelon client is happy to find the connection.” “No, this is great. My grandfather will be so pleased.” “Want me to keep digging?” Her fingers hovered over the screen—itching, I could tell, to keep going. “Sure. Um, up to another two hours? See how far it gets you?” “Done. I’ll send you a proper report, certificates if you’d like. All printed so you can show people. Or not.” “Or not. I didn’t expect to get results so fast.” “We have always kept detailed genealogical records. We have offered to merge them with the Kelon system many times, but they always refuse, saying amateur records would ‘contaminate’ theirs.” She shrugged. “Their loss.” “Insulting to you.” “Yes, but we’re used to it from the guko.” I blinked, shocked at her using the term. “Er, isn’t that a rude word?” She raised an eyebrow. “‘Guko’? It’s an insult to one of us, but it shouldn’t offend you. It simply means those who are ignorant of the teachings of the Seeker. It applies to nonudawatha Nihani as much as Kelons.” It figured Shardul’s worst insult would be about religion. “This is all pretty confusing.” “Yes, I know, but I think it’s wonderful you’re prepared to learn more. Now, my cousin wanted a word with you before you left.” “Shardul? Out here?” “Yes. He’s talking to my husband. Come with me.” What the hell was Shardul doing out here? I only asked him to call, not see me in person. He was out in the yard, talking to a tall, heavily-built banis man, standing in front of a kolija pen and looking for all the world like a farmer himself in a Nihani lungi and sleeveless shirt, showing off surprisingly muscled arms. He looked fantastic, but I doubted he could look anything but. He greeted Rupa in Nihani, and only acknowledged me with a nod. “I take it you’re

finished,” he asked her. “For now. Quite a fascinating history there. I’m sure Sri Ythen wants to tell you all about it.” “Yes, I’m sure. For some reason he insists on sharing such things with me.” I screwed my nose up at him but he ignored it. “Do you mind if I commandeer your yard a little longer for a chat with him?” “Go right ahead.” She turned and offered me her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sri Ythen.” “‘Javen’, please.” “Javen. And thank you for sharing your history. Shardul might pretend to be uninterested but these are facts which help to weave the tapestry recording our existence in the Spirit’s world. The Seeker teaches that to learn the past enlightens the future. I firmly believe that.” “Uh...sounds like a good philosophy.” Behind her, Shardul rolled his eyes. Rupa’s husband smirked at him and me both. She took her spouse’s arm and led him away, leaving me with a dangerous beast, and the kolija. “So you found what you were looking for,” Shardul said, apparently only interested in looking at the animals in the pen. “The drop of magical banis blood that washes away the sins of your people towards mine.” “Could you tell me exactly when I implied I believe that? Like it or not, your people intermarried with my family, and that fact has an impact on me. I’m not making a single claim based on it.” “You wouldn’t be the first if you did. What did you learn today?” “Tanmay Kly knows exactly what the gatha are, even claims to know what they look like. So does this Gagan guy. Someone in your community is a chatterbox. Kly’s also desperate to get his hands on them, even though he says the shirt is a fake.” “It is a fake. A very good one though. Did you think I would give you a picture of the real sawret?” Of course he wouldn’t. “Then he was right? But he wanted it. He said there’s an upcoming exhibition at the museum on fake artefacts.” “There is.” I scratched my head, bewildered. “So...he’s genuine? But why be so fascinated by a fake, he damn near had a heart attack when I showed him the picture?” Shardul declined to explain. “Tell me everything else.”

So I did, including the fact the man knew my father. “Is he likely to ask about your aunt?” he asked. “Dad and Aunt Tanvi aren’t close, and he knows she’s barking mad. He’ll put it down to my eccentricity. If Kly contacts him, I’ll get a call telling me off for shaming the family but nothing more.” “You’re certainly your family’s derda wass.” “What?” “You would say, ‘black sheep.” I suspected the phrase was ruder than that. “Yeah. So I know a little of what it’s like to be indigenous and discriminated against.” He rounded on me, eyes flashing. “You know nothing, you pathetic guko! You, with your brown skin, brown eyes, the governor father, the elite education, the independent income, the good name—you say you know what it’s like because a few people are suspicious of your empathy? A gift you can hide and reveal at will, unlike this?” He flicked his flame-red hair. “Do youngsters in your community paint brown makeup on their faces so they can be like all the other children at school? Do they come home weeping in fear and rage because little Kelon thugs have held them down, torn their braids apart and cut their hair down to the scalp? Are your women assumed to have permanently open legs because of their race? Are your people routinely denied entrance to the private schools which are the path to power in this country, despite them being technically open to all? Do you pay more interest on loans to Kelon banks because you’re assumed to be a bad risk, even if you have a solid job? Tell me, Ythen, exactly what discrimination do you face?” “I lost my job and my lover,” I answered hotly, as angry as him. “And even yesterday the clerk at the Records office treated me as if I’d contaminated her because I mentioned my empathy.” “Something you chose to do. We don’t have the choice. You can pass through life as pure blood Kelon as you wish to be.” “Unless I want to be a cop, or a civil servant, or a lawyer.” “Your path is limited in the most minor way entirely due to your own people’s prejudice against mine, and yet you complain and whine like a spoiled child. You have no idea how privileged you are, and you have no idea how insulting it is to hear claims of discrimination come out of your mouth.” He actually spat on the ground. “You mock the suffering of my people, and the limits on their ambitions, health and wealth, placed purely by bigotry. Poor little rich boy.”

I flushed and turned away. “Find someone else to find your damn monuwel, Shardul. I quit. No charge either. Pick whatever hell you want and go there.” He let me walk almost all the way back to my car before he drawled, “The Kelon are such thin-skinned people. Experts at dishing out the constant slights and hurts, but let not their hides be pricked at all.” I spun around, still furious. “Why did you even hire me when you hate me this much?” “I don’t hate you, guko. I’d have to expect better of you to hate you for being like every other Kelon. I don’t respect you, especially now you’ve discovered a minor connection to the udawathei and think that makes you one of us, or special.” He stood up from leaning on the fence, walked over and got in my face. “Your people are atheists. You can’t be udawatha even if you are as pure blood as I am, if you do not accept the way of the Spirit. Your people don’t understand us, what makes us. They have no interest in learning, and neither do you.” “Then teach me.” “Sorry, better things to do.” “All the books about your people are in Kelon, by Kelons.” “No they’re not, and even so there are plenty of history texts in your language you can read. Scan them without your prejudiced filters and you can learn. There are Nihani-Kelon dictionaries, so you could teach yourself the language. Our temples and libraries are full of books written about our beliefs, our history.” He looked me up and down. “But it’s so much easier to be spoon-fed, isn’t it?” “I’ve never been good at languages.” “You know enough to insult me, beto. You can surely pick up enough to read a children’s introduction to the Spirit’s teachings.” “I guess.” I turned away again, needing a respite from my emotions and his, and to keep a physical distance from him. My head felt like the top was about to blow off. I hated being an empath. “You think me rude and arrogant, don’t you?” he said. “Tell me. When you were a policeman, how did you treat our people? Be honest.” I clenched my fists, willing myself not to let them fly. “Maybe sometimes we weren’t always completely fair.” “Sometimes. In my experience, it’s one hundred percent of the time, and that’s even

with me having the professional status to make the police behave. A status paid for by my entire family, who scraped together the funds to send me to university. No scholarships for the indigenous because that would be discriminatory. You don’t live in my world, and you don’t see things as I do. Don’t ever pretend to me that you can.” “I’m sorry...for making that comparison. It was stupid of me. I apologise.” He lifted an eyebrow as I faced him. “Well, at least you didn’t say ‘if I was offended’. I accept, but I’ll expect more of the same. You can’t help it. You don’t even know what you don’t know about us.” “Do you want me to keep working on this or not? I’ll offend you again. You said it yourself.” “Yes, you will. You’re sure Kly is seriously ill?” “I’m no doctor but that’s what it looked like to me. What difference does it make?” “It might be why he wants the gatha. Describe the assistant with him?” “Young, slim. Very beautiful, at least to me. Sullen but attentive.” “Hair braided in what manner?” I did my best to describe it. He grunted. “Induma. His mistress.” “Really? He treated her like a maid.” “Yes.” “And she hates him.” “Yes.” I felt a wave of sorrow from him. “She made poor choices. But I can’t believe she would betray our people’s trust by telling him about the gatha.” “Would she help retrieve the monuwel?” “I don’t know. I need to contact her, and investigate this Gagan. You should continue your enquiries.” I took it I was rehired. “And if he suddenly wants all these artefacts?” “If he’s the thief, we need to use the fake sawret as a bait. So keep him dangling but interested.” “Have you given any thought to how you’ll extract the monuwel from whoever it is? These guys take security seriously, and I do not do burglary. We should take any evidence to the police, once we confirm where the object is.” He sniffed. “Your faith in your former comrades is touching, but quite misplaced. We will deal with retrieval once we know where it is and who has it. And why.”

“Don’t trust me?” “Don’t need you. Not the same thing. Does it bother you that we’re not without resources of our own, Ythen?” “Why would it? If I wanted to care for something helpless and stupid, I’d own a gulen.” “I’m much prettier than a gulen.” “Yeah, but if you were too much bother, I couldn’t take you to the vet and have you put down.” He laughed. “But you’d try. Good day, Ythen.” “Javen.” “No. We’re not friends. Keep me up to date.” And with that, he walked back inside the house, leaving me with the kolija and the urge to kick something small that went squeak. ~~~~~~~~ My cousin on Kelon received a message from Kly expressing what he’d said in the meeting. She replied with a stiffly formal note saying I was her agent here and she’d appreciate all communications going through me. However, she would give his offer due consideration, after receiving my advice. That, hopefully, would keep him interested and well behaved. Shardul went quiet. I continued to contact dealers, made three more meetings with people from Shardul’s list, getting the same reaction as I have from Duadi. None reacted as strongly as Kly had to my hints about the shirt. I was more and more convinced we’d found our thief, or at least, the thief’s customer, but I had nothing I could take to a cop. I needed someone reliable prepared to swear they’d seen the monuwel in Kly’s possession, at the very least. Even then, the force wouldn’t tangle with someone of Kly’s reputation and status on the word of a banis. Ideally, I needed to see the thing in his possession. But his collection of artefacts weren’t on show, at least in the part of the house I’d visited. Rupa was quiet too, although she sent me the preliminary report as promised and said she was digging. “Enjoying herself,” were her exact words. I called Granddad and told him what I’d found. He was thrilled, and said he’d pay any of my costs, which of course I dismissed. I was glad I hadn’t waited longer to visit him, or to chase down Grandma’s history. And I kept the pressure up on Yashi until he made firm plans to visit at the next school break. The only people I didn’t contact were my parents. After Shardul’s stinging slapdown I didn’t have the courage to face another excoriation. I hadn’t fully recovered

from the last hissy fit my mother had thrown over my empathy and the entire ‘racial contamination’ thing. A week after my meeting with Rupa and then Shardul, he sent me a message asking me to come, incognito, to his aunt’s house late at night. Clearly he didn’t want any of his people seeing me nosing around, or anyone who might be watching the community. I figured I would kill the time until the meeting at the library and catch supper in town. Since business was still slow, I’d been using the free time to read the available books on indigenous history and culture. I’d tried to do what Shardul demanded, and set aside my Kelon blinkers, looking at the narratives as if I was indigenous, not Kelon. It wasn’t easy, and the process opened up more questions for which I had no answers, and no one to ask. I knew I was missing stuff because I didn’t know what was important, what was not. The librarians tried to help but they said, to their knowledge, the commentaries on the colonisation by indigenous historians were all in Nihani. They did offer me a language course though. In a year or so I might be able to read simple textbooks, they said. Spectacular. Incognito for me meant a generic coat, a Nihani scarf I’d found in a second-hand store that afternoon, and keeping my head down. And not taking my own auto, of course, so once I’d had my supper, I walked down to the transit centre to hail a taxi. Before I’d walked a dozen steps, a sleek black auto pulled alongside me. “Sri Ythen, do you need a lift?” I recognised the driver, though not his companion. “I’m fine, Sri Vishva. Thank you.” The other man leaned out of the car, and in his hand, a small but perfectly serviceable pistol. “We must insist, Sri Ythen. Get into the car.” I could run, or yell. At that distance though, and where he was aiming, he could hardly miss and I was rather fond of my testicles for all they weren’t getting much use lately. “Is this necessary, Sri Vishva?” “Yes, unfortunately. Get in.” The two of them were more scared than I was. Provided the guy with the weapon didn’t set it off by accident, I thought I was probably safe. So I got into the back seat. Vishva locked the door and headed off at speed. “Sri Ythen, I thought we had an agreement.” “And what was that, Vishva?” “That you would let me outbid any offer you had for your aunt’s collection. Including the shirt.” “I said I’d consider it, Vishva. No promises. I’ve had a very generous offer. The shirt’s

worthless. A fake. It’s not part of the gatha.” Both men tensed up, angry. “You should not speak of such things,” the other guy growled. “Yeah, yeah. Look, I know why you want that shirt, and I’m telling you, you don’t have anything to worry about.” “We can’t take your word for it. Tanmay Kly must not have it.” “And you must? Last I heard, you could see just fine, Vishva. You’re not one of the keepers.” “Neither is he!” Vishva yelled. The auto swerved. “Beloved reason, will you concentrate? Or pull over? This is ridiculous. Stop the fucking vehicle, Vishva. I’ve got a weapon too and unlike Sri Sweaty Palms, I know how to use it.” I whipped it out and put it against the guy’s head. “Now stop the auto or your friend will find out what it’s like to have a ventilated brain.” Vishva barked something in Nihani and the other guy answered. The auto slowed and stopped, and I grabbed the guy’s weapon before he remembered he could still use it. “Better. Now knock this off, the pair of you. Vishva, Tanmay Kly is not going to get any of the gatha from me, okay? Neither are you. I’m going to make sure everything is returned where it belongs. Any more dramatics from you amateurs, and I’ll see you arrested and locked up for weeks while the chuma cops sit on their arses wondering how to make your lives miserable.” “We can’t lose any more of our heritage to your people.” “You won’t on my account. I give you my word.” “Word of a chuma.” “Word of a man descended from Sureni Kala Uday, a man who is matos, and employed by Roshni Deela Yatin. I’m not udawatha, but I respect your people. You can trust me.” The guy I had a bead on muttered in Nihani, and Vishva answered him, before saying to me, “We are taught from a young age not to trust those with dark hair and dark eyes.” “And I was taught from a young age that those with red hair and light eyes are all lazy thieves who never amount to anything. I can’t tell you any more because I hold a client’s trust, but Tanmay Kly won’t get what he wants.” Looking at me over the back of the seat, Vishva nodded. “All right. You truly understand how important this is?”

“I truly do. Give me time. I’m not the only person working on it, and speaking of that, you’ve made me late for an important meeting. Give me a lift over to Tockta Street and we’ll call it quits.” A sullen silence prevailed while Vishva obeyed, but the two of them exuded confusion, shame and anger. They were lucky. Pulling that stunt on another ex-cop would have ended up with them arrested at best, dead at worst. They were just kids—desperate, loyal kids, way out of their league. Vishva let me out a few hundred metres from Roshni-ji’s house. “My hewiz,” his friend said, holding his hand out for the weapon. “Uh uh. You’re not old enough to play with toys like this. If I hear about you threatening anyone else in this way, things won’t go so well. I admire what you’re trying to do, but you need to learn violence doesn’t solve anything. Go on home, beto.” I slammed the door and the auto screeched away. I hoped Vishva had someone older and sensible to ask about this, but I doubted it. He needed a keeper of his own. I ran as discreetly as I could to my appointment, but this time Shardul had the pleasure of being annoyed at my lateness. “I have an excuse,” I panted. “I’m sure. Hurry up.” Roshni-ji nodded at me as I came into her living room, but didn’t rise. “Welcome, Javen. I believe you’ve met my guest, Induma.” I stared in shock at the young woman I’d last seen at Kly’s house. She didn’t look my way. “Uh, yes. Sorry I’m late.” “Never mind that,” Shardul said. “I’ve had a number of discussions with Induma and she’s confirmed Tanmay Kly has the monuwel.” “Isn’t he your boyfriend?” I asked Induma. She didn’t deign to acknowledge my question. “Induma informs us Kly was not behind the theft here or at the other residence, and his intention is to return the monuwel after he’s finished with it,” Shardul said. “Finished with it?” Induma spoke for the first time. “Tanmay is dying. He’s afraid to die, but more than that, he’s afraid not to be reborn. He’s converted to udawa.” I raised my eyebrows at Shardul, whose scepticism, as that of his aunt, came over loud and clear. “Okay. Then stealing the monuwel isn’t exactly the best way to be on side with the Spirit.”

“His fear is too great for rationality. He means no harm.” “Then all we have to do is wait for him to give it back, right? No?” Shardul made a face. “Unfortunately, Kly believes that such an important artefact should be kept in the museum under lock and key rather than in private hands. He cites the fact it was stolen this time as proof.” “He does have a point.” I said. “Uh, sorry, Roshni-ji.” “It’s not for Tanmay Kly to make that decision,” she said, keeping the anger I sensed out of her expression. “It’s not for any Kelon to do so. The monuwel is part of our tradition. It is our responsibility. My responsibility. Not his. Not any Kelon’s.” “Yes. I’m sorry. I got carried away. So what’s the plan, and why does he need it?” Induma sighed. “He says he’s udawatha, but his instructor is—” “—A complete lunatic,” Shardul interjected helpfully. “That’s Gagan. Gagan Warl. I’m still trying to find out more about him, but I don’t like what I’ve heard about him so far.” “Yes,” Induma agreed. “On Tanmay’s property is the burial site of one of the Seeker’s incarnations. A sacred site.” “One of many stolen by the chuma,” Shardul muttered. “Carry on,” I said to Induma. “Gagan had told Tanmay that if he drinks from the monuwel at the grave, and recites certain prayers, he will be viewed favourably by the Spirit. Even, possibly, to the point of being granted a cure, or at least a remission.” “Nothing in our beliefs supports that,” Roshni-ji said firmly. “This Gagan is an impostor.” “He’s udawatha too?” I asked. “So he claims,” Induma said, her lips twisting in contempt. “He says he was married to one of our women before she divorced him. Personally I suspect he’s a fraud through and through.” “Certainly a most cruel person, playing on a sick man’s mind like this,” Roshni-ji said. “Yes,” Induma agreed. “He was the one who brought the monuwel to Tanmay. He has already had himself inserted into Tanmay’s will. I believe he may even be behind the theft of the monuwel, and the attempt on the sawret. I don’t know how Gagan learned of the gatha. Tanmay obtained a diary some years ago which, much against our traditions, recorded their existence and significance, with descriptions. None of us told him what it

meant, but he has many contacts with our people. He can be persuasive, and there are some who will talk of such matters for money. I would not.” “Induma’s grandmother was a keeper,” Shardul explained to me. “Why didn’t you come to Roshni-ji before this?” I asked. “If you feel so strongly, why didn’t you ask for help?” “I love Tanmay.” “You hate him.” I sensed pain and shame from her, as her expression twisted. “I love him and sometimes I hate him. I pity him and I want to make sure he dies in full communion with the Spirit, for it will comfort him. I hoped to change his mind about the monuwel. But since your visit, he has talked of nothing but the sawret, and Gagan encourages him to believe that wearing it will increase the magic.” “So what’s your plan?” I asked Shardul. “We provide Kly with the fake, so he goes ahead with the ceremony without any further delay. While it’s in progress, you and I will gain access to his property with Induma’s help—which means it will be legal—and retrieve the monuwel.” I held up my hands. “Whoa. No way. We have no proof he obtained the object unlawfully. The only people who can walk in and seize possibly stolen property are the police. And need I remind you I am not a cop any more?” Shardul sneered. “Certainly we can contact the police. They might even listen to you. If they seize the monuwel, we’ll then be in a position of proving ownership on the testimony of a blind women—forgive me, muor—of something very few people have seen and of which there are no visual records. If the case goes to court, or even if Kly is charged, the publicity will mean our greatest secret will be exposed for all to pick over. So no. We don’t involve the police. If necessary, I’ll go on my own.” “Great. So one of the best lawyers and advocates the banis have will end up in jail, and his career will be over. Not worth it, Shardul.” “The monuwel must be returned to the keeper. Everything else is unimportant.” “No, Shardul,” Roshni-ji said, turning her blind eyes upon him. “You’re wrong, and Javen is right. We need you. Remember the sacrifices we made to educate you. Remember how many hopes we place in you. No. I forbid it, by the power vested in my position.” “I’ll retrieve it, if no one else can,” Induma said. “Only I think Gagan will try and stop me by force. He wants the monuwel very badly and I suspect it will never reach the

museum.” I sighed. “Okay, knock it off. I’ve had all the stupid self-sacrificing dramatic gestures I can deal with in one night. We need a better plan than this. I’ll send Kly a message to say my cousin is happy for him to have the shirt. That gives us at least a week to prepare. Shardul, you need to speak to Vishva and his friends and tell them to stop threatening people with guns or they’re going to end up in prison.” He turned sharply towards me. “What?” “I’ll explain later. Induma, we need all the dirt you can dig on this Gagan, because he’s the one we need to stop.” She nodded. “Roshni-ji?” “I knew we were right to place our trust in you, Javen.” “Thanks, though we still have to get the monuwel back.” Induma stood. “I must go. I told Tanmay I was visiting my family. I have to be home before midnight.” “I’ll be in touch,” Shardul said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She kissed Roshni-ji’s cheek in turn, knelt respectfully, then slipped out of the apartment. “I too need to go, and you, Ythen. What’s this about Vishva?” I explained, and showed him the confiscated weapon, shocking Roshni-ji when Shardul described it to her. “He was a very good boy. What happened to him?” “He’s still a very good boy, ma’am, just going about things in the wrong way. But he needs to be sat on.” “I’ll apply the appropriate buttock pressure,” Shardul said. “Now go.” Roshni-ji put her hand on my arm. “Javen? Thank you for not having Vishva arrested.” “My pleasure, ma’am. I don’t want to see good kids in prison any more than you do.” Shardul walked me out, and he hailed a taxi for us. “I too should thank you,” he said grudgingly as we pulled up to the library. “No need. I figure the debt’s still on my side. See you around,” I said, then hopped out. I returned to my auto but didn’t drive home immediately. I sat, trying to think of a way to get this stupid cup back that wouldn’t end up with people arrested. Shardul was right though. Once the police were involved, given Kly’s high profile, the secret of the gatha would be public property. It might kill Roshni-ji, putting her through that. Cops made the best criminals, they said. Looked like I was going to discover the truth of that. ~~~~~~~~

Ten days later, I was parked on a road near Kly’s estate, wishing I was anywhere but. I’d only had a few hours’ warning that tonight was the night when I would go against all my stated principles, and commit a serious crime for the first—and I hoped only—time in my life. Induma had convinced three of Kly’s employees to assist in letting me and Shardul into the estate and the house, where she would pass us the monuwel, and we were then supposed to high-tail it out of there. Shardul wasn’t supposed to be coming with me, and his aunt thought Harinakshi was going in his place. Instead, Harinakshi was our wheelman. “I really hope he hasn’t got any fluria,” I muttered. They had a fierce bite and worse temper, and more than one cop bore the mark of their impressive teeth. “Induma assures me he has not,” Shardul said, calm as if he was on his way to his office. “She also says she doesn’t go out on the estate at night.” But she’d hear guards using fluria. I was just spooking myself. “I believe it will be fine, Javen,” Harinakshi said. “The Spirit is with us.” “The Spirit might be with you, but it doesn’t believe in me, or me in it. I’d rather trust in Shardul’s long legs and Induma’s planning.” “On that point,” Shardul said. “Ythen, once we have the monuwel, I will treat that as my first priority. If we’re separated, I’ll come back here and not wait for you.” “Your concern is touching, really,” I told him. “But you’re right. The least I want from this is to retrieve the bloody thing.” “Don’t be disrespectful,” Shardul said. “Stuff it up your arse. I’m telling you guys—we get this thing back? Then me and the Nihan are quits, okay? I’ve made reparations for whatever bad stuff my ancestors did to you. Clean slate, or no deal.” Shardul twisted around to look at me. “If that’s what you want. It doesn’t work like that.” “The hell it doesn’t. Okay, so I’m still a privileged chuma and I know squat about your culture. But between you and me? No more shit. Deal?” “Very well. Deal. But we still have to retrieve it.” Which was a lot easier said than done. Induma had only been able to give us the go ahead tonight because the monuwel had been brought from its secret store in preparation for the ceremony at the sacred site tomorrow. Security in the house would be high, and she couldn’t guarantee to disable it all. There was also the matter of the two of us having to run

through a wooded estate at night, through unfamiliar terrain and for long distances, when the whole estate was wired for sight and sound. It was close to midnight, but we had to wait for Induma’s signal. She had to make sure Kly was sound asleep before she left his bed, and that the house was quiet. Another hour crept by before we received her quiet, “All’s clear. I’m ready.” “Let’s go.” “Wait,” Harinakshi said. “What now?” He bowed his head. “May the Spirit guide your enterprise, for it is just and noble. If you die in its execution, may the Seeker of the Spirit lead you to your new life and let that life be a good one.” Charming. “Thanks, I think. Shardul, come on.” Our entrance to the estate was at a gate in the high wall that surrounded it. Normally locked, but now opened and alarms disabled by one of Induma’s confederates, who waved us in. “We’ve placed UV flares to guide you. Your night vision goggles will pick them up. That way. Hurry.” We headed off at a run, and I soon saw the bright light from the flare—invisible to the naked eye, as bright as an auto headlight from here. We were in communicator contact with Induma, but any warning she could give would almost certainly be too late. Better than nothing, but not much. Every step seemed obscenely loud, though we ran as lightly as we could over thick turf, avoiding hard surfaces. I kept expecting to trigger one of the many sensors Induma said were scattered around the estate, or one of the security patrols, but after running for what seemed forever, the dim lights and looming shape of the mansion against the three moons, hove into view. “We’re here,” I whispered to Induma. “Where do we come?” “Wait for a light. Come to that side.” We crouched behind a prickly bush that smelled of piss, peering towards the house. “There.” Shardul pointed to a faint wavering light to the left. We hunched over and ran to the window indicated. The second we were outside, Induma flung the window open, and shoved a small cloth-wrapped parcel into Shardul’s hands. “Go!” We were already on our way, Shardul ahead of me, taking care of the monuwel as he’d

said he would. We passed the first flare—three to go. But with the second flare in sight, Induma’s voice came over my earpiece. “Gagan’s awake and knows it’s gone. Hurry!” “Shardul, go!” He picked up speed, quickly increasing his lead over me. Harinakshi was monitoring. He’d be ready to scoop and run, but would he wait for both of us? Sirens, deafening, men shouting and lights coming on all around us in the distance. Second flare passed. Two more. Just two more. “Ythen!” “Just get the hell out of here! Go!” He took off, and I did something I swore I wouldn’t do, which was play the bloody hero. I deliberately changed course, and changed my steps to make more noise, heading towards a gravel path. I didn’t plan to be captured, but I needed Shardul to get clear. I could climb a wall. I’d done it often enough. I just had to get there. Lights heading towards me. I ducked and changed course. I could see the estate wall in the distance. I bolted through the undergrowth, keeping to dirt and turf again. Shardul was on his own now. I’d done what I could. A shout, a flare of light, and then the most horrible pain across my lower back, throwing me to the ground. I knew what it was because I’d been shot before. “I’m down,” I gasped to Shardul over the communicator link. “Get out of here.” No response, and the shouting was closer. I lay on my front, hands spread out in surrender as the guards came closer. Oh well. I wasn’t much of a private detective anyway. Being surrounded by angry people only added to the pain and humiliation of being captured. They carried me gracelessly to the house, where Gagan came running towards me, grabbed my hair, and screamed obscenities at me. I pretended I was too injured to answer. I gained a little satisfaction from having thwarted him. I hoped we’d thwarted him. Rough and ready first aid from the security guards, then I was hauled into the house to be confronted by Kly himself, wearing a plush crimson robe. Induma in a silky white gown, nervous and silent, stood behind him. Gagan hovered like a malevolent vulture, waiting to rip my head off. Kly shook his head at me. “Javen, Javen. I’m very disappointed. What will your father say?” “Same thing, I guess. You had something you know you didn’t own.”

“It was only borrowed. I was going to give it back.” “Oh yeah. Was he?” I pointed to Gagan who was practically purple with rage. “I ask the questions. Now you can tell me where it is, and this can be sorted out discreetly, or I can call the police. One way or another, I will have it back. I have to have it back.” “Sorry, no dice. Call the cops. Soon, unless you want me to bleed all over your nice chairs.” Gagan stepped up to slap me around a bit, but Kly called him off. “No. There’s no point. Sri Ythen is quite determined, I see that. Call the police. I think the governor will be rather unhappy with your choice, Javen.” “Won’t be the first time.” While Gagan calling the cops temporarily diverted Kly’s attention, I glanced at Induma. She gave me the tiniest nod. So Shardul had made it. Now who’d retrieve me? Cops also make the worst suspects because we know all the tricks. When two patrol officers arrived, I made their lives unpleasant by refusing to give any more but my name and address. They’d heard of me, and they’d certainly heard of my father. They were caught between potentially upsetting the most important politician in this region, and the most important man in this city. I felt sorry for them, but the only play I had was to delay things as much as possible. Finally the cops agreed I needed medical attention, and placed me under arrest on suspicion of breaking and entering with intent to steal—although not with actual theft since Kly declined to name any item that had been stolen—before taking me to the hospital to have my injury cared for. I insisted on my lawyer, one Shardul Hema Rishabh, being called. If I had to spend the night in pain and under arrest, no bloody way was Shardul getting any beauty sleep. The hospital doctor did her best, but every position hurt like hell, and I didn’t want painkillers in case they made me loose-lipped. She gave me drugs to ward off infection, told me to keep off my feet for a few days, and then the officers took me down to the station to be charged. By then it was nearly dawn. I was exhausted, in a lot of pain, worried, and wondering where my supposed lawyer was. I’d been in better shape. And I still had to break the bad news to Yashi and my father. I refused to make a statement without my lawyer, and seeing my ropey state, the station staff wisely decided to let me sleep it off before pursuing it. They put me in a holding cell, which was bare of anything but what I needed, which was a place to rest on

my front. I fell asleep before they’d locked the door behind me. The door lock woke me up, not something I welcomed since I’d stiffened up badly. I groaned as I turned my head to see who had intruded. Shardul. “About time,” I muttered. “Come on. Time to go home.” “Shardul, I’ve been arrested.” “Yes, and I’ve arranged bail. So shift your chuma arse.” He helped me stand, which hurt a lot more than I expected. “I got shot in my chuma arse, thank you.” “Yes, you did. How very stupid of you.” But his eyes were friendly and I even detected some slight sympathy under his habitual irritation. He handled the tiresome business of my belongings being returned for me, and helped me sign the release forms. I was told to report back to the station the same day next week, and then I was free. For now. “How did you swing it?” “Later. We’ll talk by phone, but for now, you need to be in the bosom of your family, as indeed do I.” “Wait,” I said, as he dragged me toward his auto. “The thing?” “Safe and beyond the clutches of friend Gagan, who is himself not beyond being placed in custody.” I had to lie across the back seat, which amused Shardul no end. “It bloody hurts,” I bitched. “Yes. You shouldn’t have separated from me.” “They were about to find you.” “Not for certain. But...I thank you, Javen Ythen. The debt is cleared.” “Damn well hope so,” I muttered. We arrived in time for breakfast. He helped me into the house, to the alarm of my brother and his wife, and the intense curiosity of the twins. “Injured in the line of duty,” Shardul gravely assured Yashi. “The doctor gave me these painkillers for him. Make sure he takes them, and rests. The wound needs to be dressed twice a day. You’ll find dressings in that packet too.” “Thank you, er...Sri...?” “Rishabh,” he said. “I’m his lawyer.”

“What?” I moaned pathetically. “Yashi, please?” Shardul made a diplomatic exit after handing me to Yashi, and then my highly annoyed and worried brother took me to my room and put me to bed. “What in the name of reason have you done to yourself?” “Upset someone with a gun,” I said, not lying at all. “The police are dealing with it.” Tara rushed in, clutching Shardul’s packet to her chest. “Yashi? Javen, you poor thing! You look awful.” “I feel awful,” I said, shamelessly playing to her sympathy to avoid questions. “Could I have those pills? And some water?” The two of them had to get themselves to work, and the twins to childcare, so after bustling about and making me comfortable, extracting a promise that I’d call if I needed anything, they headed off. All I wanted was sleep, since the pills took the edge off the pain. I woke in the mid-afternoon, still sore but a lot more clear-headed. A trip to the bathroom was tiresome in the extreme, but while I was up, I drank, ate and took another pill. I also found my phone and my reader to take back to bed with me. I called Shardul and asked him to call me back before Tara came home from school, which he did in two minutes. “Feeling better?” “A little. Where did you get those drugs?” “From a cousin.” I rolled my eyes. “So what gives on the bail? I wasn’t cooperating. No way should they have let me loose.” “Well, the burglary charge is going to be rather hard to prove, since you were headed away from the house, nothing was found in your possession, you had no house breaking tools, and Kly won’t say what was stolen. He says you had a confederate, but how can he prove it? But he can push the angle that you were on the estate with the intent of planning a crime. If he can’t prove that, then all they’ve got is trespass, though that’s damaging enough for your career since your investigator’s licence would be revoked. That’s how I convinced them to release you on bail. With another complainant, they probably wouldn’t charge you at all, given your family’s position. The politics are certainly interesting.” My father would go nuts. “What’s this costing me?” “A hundred an hour, of course. Meanwhile the police have had an anonymous tip off

that two recent thefts, one involving violence, may be connected to a Gagan Warl who has, it seems, form. Lots of form. Burglary, fraud, receiving stolen goods and assault. He’s on parole for that right now. Induma tells me he’s disappeared from the estate. Kly is still after your blood.” “Spectacular.” “Don’t worry about that. You’re paying me to deal with it.” He really enjoyed pointing that out. “What about Induma? Does Kly suspect her?” “No, and with Gagan disappearing, the suspicion falls on him. Kly’s resigned to not being able to complete the ceremony. She says he now wants to live his remaining time in peace.” “While being after my blood.” “That’s a point of honour. I said, don’t worry about it. I understand it will take you some time to recover.” “Yeah. Would you like to come visit me while I’m all hurt and needy?” He sniffed in disgust. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you to your bail appointment next week, and then we can talk if you’re fit. Until then, say nothing to anyone. Direct any questions to me. But there won’t be any.” I ended the call, and wondered why I trusted the man. But he could have left me hanging, just as I could have named him as an accomplice. Not so much “honour among thieves” as “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”, maybe. Being largely immobile and at the mercy of curious and impatient relatives wasn’t much fun. Fortunately no whisper of my arrest had yet reached the media or my father, though Yashi suspected something was up. I cited client confidentiality until I was sick of saying it, but he didn’t believe me. Didn’t blame him, since I was lying like a wretched beggar. By the time Shardul came to collect me for my appointment at the station, I could walk with a stick and sit with the humiliating assistance of an inflated cushion. “Wipe that smirk off your face, you bastard,” I said to him. “This is an honourable wound.” “Did I say otherwise? Here, let me help you,” he said, assisting me as if I was a centenarian. “I should shoot you in the butt, see how much fun that is.” “Sadly your plans for my butt have to wait. We’re going to visit my aunt over at Rupa’s house.”

“Police station first.” “Oh, they dropped the charges days ago. Didn’t I tell you?” “No, you did not,” I said, giving him my best glare. “You’re a piece of work, Shardul.” “Yes, I am. Now, are you comfortable?” I growled at him, which he took as assent, and drove off. I realised belatedly that the meeting at Rupa’s house was arranged because her office was on the ground floor, whereas I’d have to climb stairs at Roshni-ji’s. I could have. But it wouldn’t have been something I’d enjoy. “Forgive me for not kneeling, Roshni-ji,” I said as Shardul led me into Rupa’s office. “Never mind, Javen. Are you healed?” “Not completely. The, uh, position is difficult.” Rupa hid a grin behind her hand. Shardul didn’t bother hiding anything. “A brave feat,” Roshni-ji said, “for which we are very grateful. Please sit, if you can.” Shardul, still smirking, helped me to a comfortable chair and onto the cushion. It hurt, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. “So...who wants to start? Shardul, has Kly given up on me?” “Certainly, thanks to my dear aunt.” I turned to her for explanation. “I visited Sri Kly because I felt it my duty to try and undo the damage done by that dreadful man. He was very nice to me, very respectful, and when I explained exactly how great a harm he had done by trying to keep the gatha from us, he was most sorrowful. All he wants to do is die with his soul cleansed, and to be reborn. I told him that he needed to make amends for his sins, apologise to those he’d harmed, and repair the hurt he’d caused. He began by calling the police and asking them to drop the case against you.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, Javen, but it was little enough effort.” “She’s being modest,” Shardul said, grinning. “She also persuaded him to cut Gagan out of the will, increase the settlement for Induma and other members of his household—” “And leave his house and estate to a trust run entirely by the udawathei. The incarnation’s burial site will be under our control again,” Rupa said, her excitement bubbling over. “He’s also returning all the artefacts he collected to us and will do what he can before he dies to persuade other collectors to do so, at least after their death.” “Wow.” I blinked at them all. “Roshni-ji, what did you have to threaten to make him

do all that?” “Nothing. I simply showed him the path to absolution, and a peaceful death. Induma will be with him during these last days and weeks, acting as his spiritual guide. Even making these decisions left him much happier. To shed possessions, to settle debts, to make reparations, is a very healing thing. I don’t threaten people, Javen.” I shook my head in amazement. “Wait, there’s more,” Shardul said. “Rupa’s finished her research. I thought you’d like to pick it up.” I’d spent most of the time lying in bed reading books on the history of Medele, and trying and failing to make some progress with a simple language instruction course. I was desperate to talk to a person about it. “Can I look at it here?” Rupa brought the mass of papers over, and Shardul set a little table before me. I sensed the three of them shared some huge joke at my expense, and I wondered what nasty surprise her research had turned up. “Here’s the revised family tree. I found out more about Udy. He became locally famous as a Kelon convert to udawa, very pious, spending his declining years reading the Seeker’s teachings and the scholars’ glosses, and writing a story of his life and that of his family. I believe a copy of that record exists and I am trying to locate it for you.” “That would be...hey, he had more children.” “Yes. A surprise at his age, but his third wife was younger, and fertile.” The family record looked like a mushroom. “Four kids. I wonder what the first two daughters thought about that.” “If we locate that record, you might find out. Trace this line down, Javen.” I did as she said, still wondering what the joke was. Then I saw it, and stared at Shardul. “Sainted reason! You’re related to me?” “Very, very, very distantly.” He tried to look severe and failed. “I thought it would amuse you.” “Or horrify me. Doesn’t it bother you? I thought you were so proud of being pure blood.” “All about the taint,” he murmured. “I’m proud of being udawatha. One or two Kelon ancestors doesn’t change that, any more than your ancestor makes you one of us.” “Still.... You had no idea?” “No. It really doesn’t bother me. It’s interesting, but it doesn’t change me.” “But now I’m your cousin.”

“Not in this or any lifetime,” he said, now a little nettled. “Loosely speaking he is,” his aunt said, her lips twitching with unconcealed amusement. “You must admit it, Shardul.” “Beloved muor, not even for you.” Rupa laughed. “Now I think it’s time for chai. Javen, take your time to read my notes. You can pay me before you leave.” “Ah yes. I too must render my account.” Shardul pulled some folded papers from his briefcase, and passed it over. I didn’t look. He’d earned it, whatever he charged. “And we must pay what we owe,” Roshni-ji said. “Send your bill to Shardul and you’ll be paid immediately.” “Actually, Roshni-ji, I wonder if we could cut a deal?” “How so?” “I’ve been struggling, trying to find books on your history and culture that actually respect it. I’ve tried to learn your language but...I just don’t have that talent. I want to learn about your people but I need a teacher. Would it offend you if I offered to convert what you owe me into the equivalent number of lessons? From you, or whoever you thought would do it? Same rate as I charge.” Shardul raised his eyebrows, and looked at his aunt. “I confess to surprise,” he said, displeased at the fact. “You don’t have to accept,” I said. “I’ll waive the bill anyway. I figured...well, the Kelon owe you a lot more than that. Consider it a personal apology for what my ancestors did.” “Javen, you have a good soul. I accept. It would be my pleasure.” I grinned. “Thank you. And what I learn, I can tell my grandfather. He’ll love that.” “That would please me too.” Shardul sighed and plucked his bill out of my hands. “In the circumstances....” He tore the papers in two, and tossed them into a bin near Rupa’s desk. “I never do that for chuma. Be honoured.” I bowed. “I am.” And tickled, though I’d never tell him. ~~~~~~~~ He dropped me off at the house two hours later. I wondered what his law practice was like that he could take so much time off for trivialities, but it was his business. “Do you need help?”

I batted my eyelids at him. “Yes. Tuck me in?” “Give it up, Ythen.” “But you can’t even say I’m not your species any more.” “You’re relentless, I’ll give you that. Come on, I have work to do.” I stood on the pavement, leaning on my stick. “I have the house to myself.” “Seriously, you’re wasting your time.” “Last man on earth—” “—And still not a chance...Javen.” He winked, closed the window, and sped off, leaving me gaping. That son of a.... I grinned, picked up my stick, and tossed it into the air. Some things were definitely worth being shot in the arse for.

Javen and the Inside-Out Bracelet My partner, Madan, dropped his report onto my desk and plopped into the chair across from me. “Asdil case.” “Is the husband screwing around?” “Only philosophically.” I scanned the first page. “The House of Higher Thought? What’s that?” “It’s run by an indigenous woman, Krupa and her lover, Mohini, to educate Kelons about uduwa. Our client’s husband isn’t cheating on her—he’s planning to convert.” Lesbian proprietors did not make a convincing case for an affair. “Send this to the client with an interim bill. Tell her that unless she’s got another likely suspect for a mistress, we can’t help her further.” Madan grunted. “She won’t be happy. She’s desperate to get out of that pre-marital.” “Too bad. She’ll have to deal with it.” Shrimati Asdil had been having an affair, and her only hope of avoiding a punitive settlement was to prove her husband had been unfaithful too. But he hadn’t been, and no judge would accept conversion to religion—not even the banis religion—as equivalent. “Anything else? I’ve got that meeting at the Institute.” “Boss?” Prachi, one of our two assistants, waved a form at me. “Sri Nel’s lab returned results on the hair sample in the Bedem case. Positive for larin.” “Great. Stupid kid. Madan, can you send that report to the parents too? Usual bill, and the advice sheet for parents of drug users. Prachi can run that up. Where’s Vik?” “Library,” Prachi said. “Do you need him for the meeting?” “No, just wondered. Okay, guys, see you after lunch.’ A year after I’d set up office with another ex-cop to form Ythen, Bilwil and Associates, and I still sometimes wondered how I’d ended up like this. But so far I had managed to keep the business going and our two assistants and trainees paid, which was all I planned to do in the first two years. Like me, Madan had a police pension, which gave us a cushion. Business was very slowly growing, even if I hated selling our services as much as I ever did. If pre-maritals ever went out of fashion, every private investigator in Medele would go broke overnight. No sign of it happening yet. Every private investigator except us, maybe. The meeting I was headed for was with

our biggest client, and the reason I had three indigenous colleagues. The Institute of Indigenous Medele Culture employed me as their security consultant—the only non-Nihani consultant they had on board. But there were good reasons for that exception. Roshni-ji insisted that I had to come up to Tanmay Kly’s old estate by bus. The trustees had fought hard to have a route come right to the estate itself. The city council hadn’t been the problem—the wealthy residents of this neighbourhood had. Buses were for people who didn’t have autos. People without autos were poor, and also most likely to be indigenous. Not the kind of people our richer citizens wanted walking past their wellgroomed gardens. But the trustees had prevailed, and now Roshni-ji wanted anyone visiting the Institute to use the service, to prove its viability. A pain in the arse, but she had a point, so I used the journey to answer messages and make notes about cases I wanted to follow up later. The stares and suspicion of the Nihani passengers no longer bothered me. My skin had thickened up thanks to repeated contact with Shardul, the Institute’s legal adviser and one of the trustees. If I could cope with Shardul’s sarcasm, a little understandable wariness about the eccentric rich Kelon riding poor man’s transport wouldn’t kill me. Another client enquiry in my messages, another divorce case. I hated them, but they were good training for Prachi and Vik, teaching them basic research and observation. Madan was serious about them learning the right and ethical way to do things—exactly my own attitude. They were also receiving an education in evidence handling and processing from Kirin, in exchange for Kirin’s lab getting all our pathology work—not that there was a lot of it right now. Kirin was still exorcising a huge load of guilt over me, and even though I’d told him it wasn’t necessary, he’d put himself out over and over to help me establish myself as an investigator. Never was a guy to make a bad job of anything except love affairs, my ex. I forwarded the query to Madan to make the initial contact. Madan had a patient, kindly manner about him, and being older than me, with a dashing white streak in his dark hair, he got on well with our female clients. Whether they’d be so charmed if they realised he was mixed-race, I didn’t like to say, but Madan’s ability to move easily between both halves of our divided society was a positive asset to the firm. Prachi was the same—mixed, passed for Kelon. Vik looked Nihani, which limited his use in certain cases, but gave him an advantage in others. I didn’t want everyone in the business chasing cheating spouses. I had a vision of what I wanted to achieve in this new life of mine, and divorce cases didn’t figure in it at all. But for now, at least they paid the office rent. My phone went just as I stepped off the bus and waved to Shardul, waiting at the

entrance to the estate so we could walk up together. “Javen Ythen,” I said into the phone. “Give me a second,” I mouthed at Shardul as I came to his side. We started to walk up the long lane to Tanmay Kly’s former home. “Javen, it’s your father.” “Hello, Dad,” I said, making a face at my companion. “How’s things?” “I have a small problem, son, and I’d like to talk to you about it. Could you come to dinner at the residence tonight?” “Tonight?” I waved frantically at Shardul. “Help me get out of it!” “Sorry,” he mouthed back. “You’re on your own.” “Bastard.” “Sure, Dad. Say hello to Mum for me.” He closed the call and I growled at Shardul. “Wait until you need a favour from me.” “I’ll never need to get out of a meal with my parents, so your threat is meaningless. What does our esteemed governor want with his derda wass?” ‘Derda wass’, I’d learned, was a Nihani term that translated as “the unknown child of an unsuspected mistress who turns up at his father’s funeral”. “He has a problem he wants help with. Since my father has over fifty highly trained personal staff who can help with all manner of things, it’s safe to say the problem will need discretion and my police background, and will be a total cluster fuck, which I will do my level best to involve you in.” “Certainly. For a hundred an hour, I’ll work for almost anyone. Walk faster, Javen, my aunt is waiting.” ~~~~~~~~ Roshni-ji smiled up at us as Shardul announced our presence to her. “Good morning, Javen, Shardul. We’re just waiting for Induma.” Shardul sat next to his aunt, and I sat next to him. I nodded to Hemang, the trustee’s accountant, at Doctor Bhanu, and finally at Rupa. “Where’s young Kamal?” She’d bought her new first-born to every meeting we’d had since his birth, placidly breast-feeding while she discussed plans for the cultural museum. “With his father. Speaking of whom—Shardul, he wanted to know when you’d be free to come to supper.” Shardul pulled out his organiser. “Sixteenth of next month is the earliest.” Rupa made a face. I felt her disappointment. “Then book us in. Javen, you’d be welcome too.”

“Uh, thanks, Rupa,” I said hastily as Shardul bristled. “But with my job I never know when I’ll be free in the evenings. Not that far in advance, anyway. If you remind me a little closer to the time?” Of course I’d make sure I wasn’t available. Shardul didn’t appreciate me mixing socially with his family, even though Rupa liked me, and I loved her little boy. She didn’t seem to notice that Shardul minded—or perhaps did it anyway, knowing her. She was a very independent woman. Induma, the widow Kly, came in, and smiled gravely at us all. A little sick to say it, but widowhood suited her. Tanmay Kly had finally done the right thing, marrying her a mere month before he died, and leaving her enough money to set her up for life in luxury. He also specifically named her as one of three trustees for his massive estate—Roshni-ji and Shardul being the other two. “Good morning, everyone.” Induma sat gracefully at the head of the table and folded her hands. “Shall we begin? Shardul? I believe you have a report on the charitable status.” “Yes. As Hemang suspected, we can’t operate the profit-making arm as a charity if we restrict any grants to our own people. At least at this time—as you know, there are cases before the Medele High Court now which may alter that, if the need to provide remedy for systemic prejudice against the original residents of Medele is proven. Which I hope it will be because I am heartily sick of discrimination masquerading as equality.” He shot me a look as he said that last bit. “Hey, no disagreement here. But what does that mean for the museum and workshops?” Hemang cleared his throat. “I propose we split the business into two streams—one with income provided by and in turn fed back to the museum and ancillary activities, and the larger part being run at maximum profit for the disposition of grants, political funding and so on. We can accept donations to the charitable arm, which will mitigate the unfortunate tax penalty on the non-charitable side. But we can write off donations from one to the other, of course.” “It’s as good as we can hope for now,” Shardul said. “I will certainly monitor the legal position. With Gopan elected to the regional council, we can push somewhat for a more relaxed approach to pro-indigenous activities, but we need more representatives.” “We need more Kelons on our side too,” I said. “People like your father?” he said sweetly. “Dad’s a lost cause, but he’s only a regional governor, even if Hegal is the most populous region. There are at least thirty national representatives with indigenous relatives,

and they should be lobbied. And others who don’t have any obvious ties can be educated.” “I propose that exercise should not occupy our time or funds. Education can be at Kelon expense.” “Shardul,” Roshni-ji murmured. “For the moment, yes, we have to concentrate on the key activities we identified. But once we secure better representation of our people at governmental level, we will need to back that up.” “Agreed,” Doctor Bhanu said. “I would like to hear from Javen about the cost of the night security systems.” The meeting went for two hours, but there wasn’t a lot of padding. Everyone there was a busy person who wanted to get away as quickly as possible. We finished with me reporting on the progress of our two trainees, and saying that we could take a couple of work experience students at the close of the current term, if the school agreed. “Kirin Nel is eager to participate in that as well,” I said. “Such a saintly person,” Shardul muttered. I kicked him under the table as Rupa frowned at him. “The development of a strong professional class is crucial to improving indigenous political clout,” Doctor Bhanu said. “I will ask my Kelon colleagues if any of them will take our students.” “I as well,” Hemang said. “Shardul?” “Yes, yes. You need to ask me?” I suggested we rode the bus back to town together. To my surprise, he agreed, though he continued to radiate general ill humour as we walked up to the estate exit. “You’re giving off more bad vibes than a tus with toothache,” I said when we reached the bus stop. “Did a Kelon piss you off specifically this morning, or is it just your usual sunny manner?” He snarled at me but didn’t answer, staring pointedly off in the direction the bus would come from. But then his shoulders sagged a little. “Lona didn’t get the scholarship. I really thought she had a chance.” “Damn.” Lona was a kid he’d been grooming for the law since the girl was thirteen. If any Nihani could win a law scholarship to the University, she should have. “Did they give a reason?” “Oversupply of qualified applicants. As usual. So we still have yet to have one of our people get into University at government expense. This is why we need the law changed,” he snapped. “Your laws pretend we’re all equal, with equal chances. But the indigenous start from behind in everything, and always will do until this farcical situation is changed.”

“You don’t need to convince me, Shardul, and they’re not my laws any more than they’re yours. I’ll vote for anyone who offers to change them. Right now, that’s only Representative Gopan, and I can’t even vote for him.” “You could push your father.” “Yeah, sure. My father doesn’t even have any indigenous staff. Says he can’t find anyone qualified, which I don’t believe. You know I come from a family of racists.” “You’re a racist too. Just one aware of his racism.” I learned not to rise to Shardul’s jabs, and particularly not that one. “That’s something, at least. Dad’s not going to change. But he won’t be governor forever, at least I hope not. I’m serious about cultivating the representatives.” “We have no entrée to their world. Those who do, like you, refuse to exploit it.” “I’m as welcome as you are in those circles. Yashi would have a better chance but he’s not interested in politics. Neither am I, to be honest. But I’ll do everything I can to help.” “Empty words.” “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry about Lona. If you’re collecting for a fund to send her, you can put me down for a thousand dolar.” That startled him, and earned me an almost friendly look from those piercing blue eyes. “Thank you. Yes, we are. I refuse to let her be lost. She has an extremely able mind, exactly what is needed in the law.” “Then we’ll get her to University. Her failure gives more weight to the court cases, right?” “The only virtue, yes. It’s such blatant discrimination the court can’t fail to accept it. Whether they’ll accept the wider principle, I don’t know, and the government will appeal if we lose.” “Yeah. Bastards.” “Kelon bastards.” “No argument there.” The bus arrived and he changed the subject to Rupa’s ambitious plans to write a series of history books for Kelon children about indigenous history and culture, and to arrange for quality translations of the most important textual sources from their own collection. The plan had my full support, though I warned that there’d be a lot of resistance from the schools. “You need to give the kids an incentive to explore the subject. Prizes, that kind of thing.”

“Give to those who already have more than their fair share?” I sighed. “There’s just no talking to you today, is there? My stop’s next. Let me know where and when you want the money for Lona.” He muttered something in agreement and I left the bus. I watched it drive off, Shardul’s grumpy face at the window. Normally he didn’t let things get to him, but he spent every day fighting injustices and on behalf of his people. Even Shardul grew tired sometimes. ~~~~~~~~ “You look fine,” Yashi said without lifting his head. “I didn’t ask, but look at me when you say it.” He did so, and grinned. “You look fine.” “Wanker.” “Javen, don’t use words like that in the house,” Tara said, chasing through the living room after Harshul, trying to avoid his bath as usual. We knew better than to interfere. “Tosser,” I mouthed at my twin. “I don’t want to do this.” “I’d never have worked that out. Good thing you’re an empath and can tell us stuff like that.” “Be nice, brother. You could come along. It’s not like you’re busy.” “Nope, sorry. I did the family duty last week. If you’d come along then, you could have made an excuse tonight.” “No. Whatever it is, isn’t about seeing their beloved son. That’s why I don’t want to go. Do you think this scarf—?” “Javen, go, will you? The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back. I’ll have some wine cold for you.” “Hold you to that. Okay. See you later, if I’m not arrested.” Visiting my parents involved identity checks at three different points, and I was never in the good mood by the time the system allowed me to walk into the governor’s residence. The day my father resigned, retired or was voted out, would be the happiest one of my life. I couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been politically ambitious, even while making a fortune with his drug company, but when he finally became governor, we discovered that a man really could be too successful for his own good. And his family’s. For ten years ours had been divided into the attention-seeking press whores, and those of us who hid from the media and any political activity. I hated it, and made no secret of it. Just another thing

driving a wedge between my parents and me. My mother swished into the lobby in elegant cerise and gold, long elaborate earrings flashing cheerfully. The colours and jewellery were too young for her, but she carried them off with flair, as she did everything. Acknowledged as one of my father’s main political assets, she attracted easily as much press coverage for her fashion sense and social activities as he did for his political activities. “Javen, dear, you look very smart this evening. Time for a haircut, though, don’t you think?” “Hello, Mum.” I kissed her cheek. “How are you?” “Oh, muddling along. We never see you any more.” And whose fault is that? I didn’t say it though. There were rules to the game and one of them was not pointing out my parents’ delusions about the family or any convenient lapse of memory. When that rule was forgotten, things got nasty, and I’d had enough of that. “We’re in the family dining room. Much cosier, don’t you think?” I made agreeable noises and let her lead me through the place that had been their home for so long. I missed the one we’d grown up in. Rented now, of course. I’d have bought it if I could have afforded it. My father stood to greet me, and held out his hand. “Javen, thank you for coming. Glass of wine? Something stronger?” “Wine’s fine, Dad. Or chai.” “Chai before dinner is so very...ethnic, dear,” Mum chided. She signalled to the hovering servant, and the guy brought a tray over with three glasses of Kirdan wine. We settled into the luxurious armchairs with our drinks. I wished I’d gone for the offer of something stronger. “So, Dad. What’s the problem?” He nodded to the servant who left, shutting the door. “It’s a matter of some delicacy, son.” “Figured that. Who’s in trouble? You?” “Me.” I turned to my mother, eyebrows raised. “You? How could you be in any trouble?” “If you’d let me explain, Javen, you’d find out.” My father set his drink down, radiating irritation. “Lochana made a business transaction with an individual on Kelon. A sale, to be specific. The sale price was transferred as agreed, and the item sent by secure

transit, also as agreed. But when the sealed packet arrived and was opened, the box inside was empty.” “So call the police and report it to your insurance.” “It wasn’t insured.” I raised an eyebrow at that. “It wasn’t something we wanted listed on our insurance.” “Mum, please don’t tell me you’re selling stolen goods.” “Don’t be ridiculous. It was a bracelet, purchased quite legally.” “Then call the police. Obviously someone in the TransPlanet office stole it, or your purchaser is lying.” “We can’t call the police.” I sat back in the chair. “Look, could you stop beating around the bush? Why can’t you call the police? Pretend I’m University educated and can follow big words.” My father gave me a look at that remark. “You don’t need to be so disrespectful, Javen. I am the governor.” And could we ever forget that? “Dad, please.” “The bracelet is of banis manufacture. With all the attention lately about them claiming to be exploited, it’s a sensitive subject.” “And the governor’s wife flogging off indigenous artefacts won’t help your position, right?” They both scowled, but that was it in a nutshell. “So return the money and write it off to experience, Mum.” “I already returned the funds but the purchaser is threatening to sue because the bracelet was part of a trade deal, and its loss means the deal will fall through. He’s demanding thirty thousand dolar in compensation.” “Can he really claim that?” “Yes, according to our lawyer. We could settle but we’d have to declare the payment in Rajan’s end of year financial reports, and questions would be asked.” “Have you dealt with this man before? Is he honest?” “A couple of times, and yes, I believe so.” She sounded uncertain, and her emotions were more so. “He contacted me because he met someone I’d sold some jewellery to last year.” “I checked him out,” Dad said. “He has no criminal record, and is a respectable businessman.”

Yeah, right. “Well, that’s a mess. What do you expect me to do?” Mum waved her hands in agitation. “Find the bracelet! Or at least find who took it, and maybe they can be persuaded to reveal where they disposed of it. The purchaser thinks I kept the bracelet to sell again. Horrid man.” She shuddered delicately. “And the bracelet came from a perfectly nice person, I bet.” She looked away. “I’ll do what I can, but no promises, and no approval either. You shouldn’t be selling this stuff, Mum. How long have you been doing it?” “About a year, and don’t lecture me, Javen. Just because you’re all excited about the connection with that side of the family, doesn’t make you an expert on banis culture, or their rights.” “I know they’re sick and tired of their art and culture being sent off planet, and you know it too or you wouldn’t be trying to hide it.” “It’s a matter of politics, Javen. Your mother’s done nothing illegal.” “Doesn’t mean it’s not immoral. Oh, calm down,” I said irritably as Mum pulled herself up to yell at me. “I said I’d help. At least it’s not one of you trying to conceal a lover or something.” “Javen!” “You know what I do for a living, Dad. You’d be amazed who’s sleeping around. Can we skip dinner? I’m not hungry. I just want to get all the details on the bracelet, and track its movements before it left Uterden.” An hour later I escaped from the residence and took deep breaths of clean night air. I felt vaguely sick, the way I used to after finding dead bodies. To think I’d protested all this time to Shardul that no one in my family had been directly involved in oppressing his people, and my damn mother was selling precious indigenous artefacts, one of the most visible and indefensible marks of colonial privilege and abuse, and something which made the steam come out the ears of even gentle Roshni-ji. The simple thing would be to let them wallow in their own mess. If Dad lost office as a result, that would be the best thing to happen to our family, and the scandal would make other traffickers thinks twice about engaging in the trade. But...damn it. Family. And a thief ripping them off, and maybe other people too. Mum might be morally suspect for selling the artefacts, but if I walked away without at least trying, that would make me scum. Protect and serve. That was my code, even for my own incredibly confusing and annoying relatives. ~~~~~~~~

The local TransPlanet management took a bit of sweet-talking before they accepted that I didn’t necessarily think any of its employees were behind the theft. Once they explained the security system to me, I couldn’t see how they could be. For small items such as Mum had sent, the procedure looked as airtight as anyone could design. The object was placed in a thick plastic bag and sealed in such a way that it could only be opened by destroying the bag—so no chance, apparently, of opening it and extracting the item. More than that, the seal was covered by a flimsy tape signed in three places by the customer. The tape would withstand no stress at all, disintegrating as soon as any pressure or strain was put on it. Another tamper detector. The customer themselves placed the bag in a box with an electronic lock, sealed and labelled in the same way as the inner packet. The customer was handed a data card, and once this was inserted, software in the box lock generated a unique pass code, which could only be read by the customer once they put it in their home comm or reader. The customer sent this code to the recipient, and only with that code could the box be opened. The code went nowhere near the company’s main servers, was not recorded anywhere but on the card, and could not be retrieved in any way if the card was lost. It was a system used widely on Kelon and elsewhere, and I knew it to be foolproof. So which fool had managed to crack it? With more sweet-talking, the company manager gave me a box, several unused packets and labels for testing. That in itself told me they were confident of their procedures. But someone had managed to circumvent them, and I had to find out how. Which meant Kirin and his lab full of extremely clever people. After two years and dozens of friendly, non-stressful interactions, the agony of seeing Kirin had faded to a mild regret, like a bruise that had nearly but not quite healed. From time to time, I sensed sorrow from him over what had happened, but nothing crippling. We’d moved on from each other and the anger, and were now friends. Friends who would probably fuck given the right circumstances and enough booze, but that was it. I carefully avoided those circumstances and the booze, because I might be nearly healed, but the memory of pain lingered. He grinned as he came to reception to meet me, and kissed my cheek. “Javen, I wasn’t expecting you today.” “Rush job, and um, a pretty sensitive one. Any chance we could talk in your office?” “Of course.” He asked me to sit and closed the door. “Haven’t seen you look this cranky in a while.”

“I haven’t been this cranky for years. Look, what I’m about to tell you, I haven’t even told Yashi, so keep it to yourself, please. It’s about Mum.” He listened, eyebrows raised, as I explained the problem. When I finished, he steepled his hands. “Your mother’s the very last person I’d expect to be involved in artefact trading. I’m disappointed.” “Me too. More than. Anyway, what I need is for you to see if there’s any way the strongbox or internal packet can be breached and resealed without it being obvious. Can you do that?” “Of course. But why are you so sure the purchaser isn’t lying?” “I’m not sure, but the guy provided video of him opening the box and packet in front of witnesses. It’s suspicious that he had witnesses and camera on hand, but the video is conclusive. Not tampered with, so far as Dad’s experts have been able to determine. So at this point I’m looking at the period of time between Mum sealing the packet and leaving it in her desk and the following morning when she personally delivered it to the TransPlanet office. If the company didn’t steal it, the bracelet had to have been taken before she put the packet in the strong box.” “It’s like a magician’s trick, isn’t it?” I gave him a thin smile. “Yeah, I guess it is. So I need you to tell me how the trick was done. Take your time. We’ve lost over a week already. The bracelet’s long gone, I suspect.” “You could be right. By the way, did you ask your committee about the school trainees?” “The trustees are enthusiastic. So prepare a programme, and I’ll deliver the bodies.” “I look forward to it, and so’s Jyoti. It was her idea, you know.” I did, in fact, but I didn’t tell him that. “It’s a good idea whoever came up with it. Thanks, Kirin.” “Want to have lunch soon?” My breath caught. I made myself exhale and smile. “Sure. When?” “End of this week?” I took out my organiser and entered it. “Done. Twelve okay with you?” “Sure is. Swing by here and I’ll let you know where I’ve booked.” I waved goodbye and kept smiling, even though my heart had just flip-flopped inside my chest. Another milestone on the path to recovery, an inevitable one, perhaps, but yet I hadn’t expected it. Kirin had been completely calm as he issued the invitation. In the next

five days, I had to find a way to see this as just a lunch between friends, and not a date. That was behind both of us. Really, it was. My fingers worked on autopilot, calling Shardul’s number before I had even worked out why. “Javen. Is this where you drop me in your father’s mess?” I laughed. “Maybe. Free for lunch?” “Not today. Tomorrow.” “See you at twelve.” He closed the call. I stared at my phone, amazed at how unsubtle my subconscious could be sometimes. Then I remembered why involving Shardul in this was a bad, bad idea. He’d hit the roof about what Mum was up to. On the other hand, if anyone knew the dirty tricks and players in the artefacts trade, he did. Only two people on Uterden knew Mum had the bracelet in her possession on the day before it supposedly left for Kelon—Mum herself, and the vendor, Timin Veringe, fashionable artist and society pet. The only person who could have organised the theft was someone who knew where it would be that evening, so that meant it had to be Veringe or someone working for him. But why would someone who moved at the level that Veringe did, risk losing status and reputation over a Nihani bracelet? The ‘why’ would have to wait until I worked out the ‘how’. Unfortunately, Mum had already asked her staff about whether they knew of anything being removed from her office, so I’d lost the element of surprise. The delay in investigating matters meant surveillance video no longer existed either. Still, there were only a limited number of people who’d had access to Mum’s private office during the critical period. I needed to question them and use my empathy to tell if any of them was hiding something. I called my mother and she told me to come over to the residence straight away. If I had needed a sign of just how important this was to her, the fact she cleared her diary for me at no notice was more than enough. My father was usually easier to get hold of than she was. “Have you found out who it is?” she asked before my backside hit the chair. “No, Mum. It hasn’t been a day since I heard about it. You’ll have to give me time.” “I’m sorry. It’s just...I can’t sleep for worrying about it.” I bit back a snotty remark about it being all she deserved. “I’m working on it, but it’ll take a few days, minimum.”

“Days!” “Yeah. Mum, I need to talk to the people with keys to your office. The people who had access that night.” “But I already spoke to them.” “Yeah, but I’m an empath, remember?” Her nose wrinkled. “I try very hard to forget. You want to use that here?” Her revulsion shouldn’t have offended me, not after so long. “I use it all the time. I’m using it now.” “I can’t subject my staff to such an intrusive procedure. It’s obscene.” I stood. “Fine. Good luck with finding the thief without it. Talk to you later, Mum.” “Wait! Javen, it’s simply...so...well, invasive. I trust these people and they trust me.” “And if they have nothing to hide, they’ll never know I was here.” I turned and saw a pretty enamelled metal screen hiding the unused room heater. “I can sit behind that. You talk to them, I’ll listen. No invasion, no intrusion.” “But I’ll know.” “Bit late for ethics now, don’t you think?” She flushed. “You’re a very judgemental young man. I don’t know where you get that from.” “Insult me all you like, but you need me and my judgement and my obscene talent. Yes or no, because I’m busy.” “Do you have to be so unkind, Javen? I’m your mother.” “You just called me....” I took a breath. “Yes or no, Mum. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t necessary.” She bit her perfectly painted lip. “Yes. But I don’t like it at all.” “Objection noted. Are they all around now?” “There are only three people with the key aside from me, and yes.” “Security guards?” “All the guards have access to the central key store, of course, but they only patrol the outside of the building at night. They’re not allowed inside the living quarters. They have logs showing their patrol paths and none of them came inside that night.” “But none of the other three people supposedly came inside either.” “They don’t wear tags which track their movements, Javen. Though I refuse to believe

any of them could have stolen from me.” I didn’t comment on the obvious illogic of that, knowing it was a waste of time. “Okay. Can you ask them in, one by one? Keep it casual as you can, like it’s no big deal.” “They already know it’s important.” “That’s a shame. Do your best then.” I set up a chair behind the screen, and waited. One by one, my mother’s staff came in, and she spoke to them in a gentle friendly voice—tones I hardly ever heard her use towards me any more. Each woman projected mild anxiety and concern, but not one of them radiated guilt or anything more than I’d expect from someone talking to their boss. When she finished and the room was clear, I came around from behind the screen and shook my head. Her smile was as relieved as the emotions I sensed from her. “I knew none of them did it.” “That’s good, but it leaves us with a mystery. I’m going to speak to the security staff. Do you know why surveillance footage is only kept for a week?” “No, dear. But why would we keep it normally? If there’s a problem, we’d know almost immediately. At least...we would usually.” “Yeah. Convenient for your thief. Tell me why you didn’t take the bracelet to TransPlanet that afternoon?” She tsked. “Oh, that was so annoying. Timin was nearly an hour late. Said there was some ‘drama’, as he put it, with one of his clients. His art clients, I mean. He did call to let me know and apologised profusely when he arrived but by the time we finished the transaction, it was too late to send the bracelet. I had to come back here.” That was convenient for someone. “And you met...?” “At Kerteze’s. Have you been there? It’s one of the loveliest places for afternoon refreshment.” “Not really my thing, Mum.” More and more I thought that there could only be one suspect here, but how had he managed to remove the bracelet from a securely guarded building? Now my mother had finished with me, I had to deal with the treacly slow bureaucracy of the residence administration before I could get permission to interview the security staff. My father had given me permission, but that wasn’t enough, apparently. I had to be documented multiple times, my official investigator’s badge scanned twice, and my father called to give verbal confirmation again. By the time I was chewed up and spat out, it was

nearly twelve. I’d wasted half a day on this nonsense, and I hadn’t achieved a damn thing. Which put me in a snarly mood, for sure, but I needed to be on my best behaviour with the security officers. It had been made clear to me that should I offend or accuse any individual without their legal representative being present, my arse would be sued back to Kelon no matter who my daddy was. So it was a huge relief when I turned up at the security chief’s office, and the middleaged, straight-backed man at the desk rose, grinned, and held out his hand. “Lieutenant Damen, Sergeant Ythen. Retired, like you. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand dazedly, trying to remember where I’d heard the name. “Lieutenant Damen...Wescom Street. The siege.” Five years ago. A house full of hostages, women and children, and a gun-waving bastard out of his mind on drugs and mental illness threatening to explode a bomb and blow the lot of them to hell. Damen had been the lead negotiator, and exchanged himself for the hostages. Eventually got out alive, with the gunman, but at the cost of a severe leg injury. The force still used the case to train new officers on best practice in siege handling. “That’s me. I still limp because of it, and the medal doesn’t stop the ache, but you know how these things are.” “I do. It’s an honour to meet you, sir.” “Now, none of that, sergeant. I understand you’re looking into this spot of bother for Shrimati Ythen. Makes us look bad, I’ll be honest, but I’m damned if I can work out how anyone got in or out of the building.” “My mother said something about tags?” He pushed up his sleeve, revealing a black wristband. “That’s attached and activated at the start of the shift, and can only be removed by the same machine. We can force it off but then alarms fire up all over the residence. While we’re wearing them, they track our movements throughout the entire estate.” “Could you show me that for the night in question?” As well as a sequential log showing the guards moving past checkpoints, a graphical display showed their path on a map. “As you can see, none of them entered the building after six, per Governor Ythen’s orders. Your mother says she put the item in her desk at half six.” “And no one came in or out?” “Not a soul. There were no functions that night, the day staff had gone, and residential

staff don’t have access to the office.” “There’s no alarm if the office door is opened?” “There is if it’s forced. Same for all the doors and windows. If it was opened, it was with a key.” “Hmmm.” A guard could come and go without setting off the alarms, but their movements would show up on the log. “Access to the key store is controlled, of course.” “Yes it is.” He walked me over to the small room to the side of his office. “It can only be opened with a guard’s key card. During the day, there’s always someone around to issue cards, passes and replacements, that kind of thing, but at night, it’s not opened except in an emergency. Never been cause for that in the entire time I’ve worked here.” He was telling the truth, but then I’d never have doubted that. “I’d like to speak to the officers on duty that night at some point. Can that be arranged?” “Certainly. Do you want their names?” I noted the names of the eight guards on roster, and quizzed Damen about their reliability, honesty and so on. He had not a bad word to say about any of them, though he did say the night chief knew them somewhat better. “I’ll make an appointment for you to meet him and talk to the guards themselves. He’s never complained to me about them though. All our employees go through rigorous checking.” “I’m sure they do. I really appreciate your cooperation. I’ll make sure to mention that to my father.” He smiled. “Well, that kind of recommendation never hurts, does it? How do you find Civvy Street? This private detective lark suit you?” “On and off. Not like the real thing, is it?” His smile drooped. “No, it’s not. Ah well. We could be worse off, you and I.” “That we could. Good day, lieutenant, and thank you.” I scratched my head as I stood by my auto, looking back at the residence, trying to think like a thief. How would I get in and circumvent that impressive security system? No idea. I had until Kirin came back to me with his test results before I needed to find an answer. In the meantime, I needed to investigate Timin Veringe, and I also had a business to run. My parents weren’t my only clients. ~~~~~~~~ My too infrequent lunches with Shardul followed an unvarying pattern. I drove to his office, he made me wait until precisely the time arranged, and then we walked together to a

little diner owned by one of his endless supply of cousins. There he would test my nerve by ordering entirely in Nihani, and daring me to balk at what turned up. I hadn’t failed that test yet, mainly because ten years in the police force had taught me to eat just about anything, in any place, at any time. It was a wonder my stomach hadn’t rotted out from all the lousy meals I’d consumed on the beat. Another thing that never changed was that he insisted on eating at least half a plate of food before talking. Early in his career, he’d skipped so many meals trying to do too much, he’d made himself seriously ill. So now he made time to eat, and the only way he could ensure he consumed enough food was not to talk. Today, I knew what I had to tell him would rob him of his appetite. I was in no hurry to do that. He finished his food, picked up his chai cup, and looked me in the eyes. “This is the first time in our acquaintance you’ve been silent for more than twenty consecutive minutes. Ergo, you have something unpleasant to impart. Would you like to do so before I die of curiosity?” “My mother’s trading indigenous artefacts off world. One of them was stolen in transit —that’s why they need my help.” He hissed in a breath, his anger striking that sensitive bit of my brain over my right eyebrow with Shardul’s name on it. “By the Spirit. How dare she? And you didn’t know?” “If I did, do you think I’d have stayed silent? I’m as angry as you are.” “Oh, I doubt it.” “No, really. I’m pissed as hell with both of them. Mum doesn’t need the money. This is just a rich woman’s hobby. The seller is Timin Veringe.” Shardul’s lip curled. “That reptile.” “You know him?” “Obviously.” I waited but he said nothing more. “Well?” “Well what? You don’t seriously expect me to help you, do you? You’re on your own, Ythen.” “Don’t get mad, Shardul. I can’t walk away from my own damn mother.” “She’s not my mother. Your turn for the bill. Don’t get up.” He stood, nodded to the waiter, and walked out. Damn it. But then I remembered I had a question I needed Shardul to answer. I shoved my paycard at the waiter. “Be back in a couple of minutes to settle,” I said, and dashed out

after my irritated friend. He’d made some distance with those long legs, and was not pleased to have me grab his arm. “I though I made my feelings clear, Ythen.” “You did, and I’m sorry, but there’s one thing I need to know. This bracelet, the one that was stolen—it’s by a master craftsman called ‘Jasraj’.” Shardul stopped and glared at me. “Your mother is selling that kind of material? She should be shot—and I’d provide the gun!” “Please...don’t make me defend the indefensible. One question. Would any Nihan go so far as to steal something like that back, if they knew it was going off world?” He shook off my hand, his blue eyes icy with rage and disdain. “No. No udawatha, at least. The Seeker teaches that to cling too tightly to material possessions breeds greed and jealousy. A concept your people have exploited quite nicely.” “They wouldn’t be tempted?” “Do you think I speak for all my people? If you want to know, conduct a survey. Good day, Ythen.” “I’m sorry, Shardul.” He paused. “You may be. But I cannot eat your sorrow.” He walked off. The udawathei considered regret without reparation a hollow, shameful thing, almost as bad as the original offence. A truly sorrowful man did his best to make amends. But in this case, how could I do that? Let my mother suffer the consequences of her own greed? The bracelet would still be gone, and Veringe still trading. Unless I could prove he was behind the theft. Stop him, and that was one exploiter down. Little enough, but police pursued criminals even knowing there were plenty more to take their place. If I could take Veringe down, then I had to. My phone went while I was still raw from Shardul’s rejection. “Yes?” I snapped. “Sainted reason, Javen, if you answer your phone like that, you’ll lose clients.” “Sorry, Kirin. What’s up?” “Swing past the lab. I’ve got good news for you on those containers.” “I could do with some. See you soon.” Kirin had done fast work. I hoped he hadn’t put anything aside to look after this case. My parents didn’t deserve being given priority. I told him that when I saw him, and he gave me a look. “Javen, they don’t. You do. Come over to Jyoti’s desk.”

She smiled. “Good afternoon, Javen. Are you well?” “Very. You and Chandana?” She blushed at her girlfriend’s name. “We’re fine.” “So, what have you got for me?” “The strong box is impregnable,” Kirin said. “The code’s uncrackable, and you only get three tries. After that, nothing short of cutting equipment will open it.” “So the box wasn’t opened before arrival. The package?” “Jyoti?” “The plastic bag is very well-designed. Almost any attempt to open it results in visible and irreparable damage.” “But....” “But, look.” She picked up one of the company’s packets. “This is a new one—we obtained more supplies this morning for testing, in exchange for us informing TransPlanet of our results.” “Didn’t think you’d mind,” Kirin murmured. “Of course not. Show me what you found?” She picked up a slim piece of equipment. “This is a laser knife, used in surgery. The cuts it makes are very precise and narrow.” She used the knife to slice the bottom of the bag. “The critical factor is speed. The cut has to be annealed within thirty seconds.” She turned the knife over. “There is a cautery function on this model, which also works very finely. Watch.” She ran the knife over the cut, keeping the two edges carefully aligned. “Now we wait...and there. Look.” “It’s invisible!” “Not quite. Look closely,” Kirin said. I picked up the packet and yes, the line could be seen, just. But in the position of the cut, and against white plastic.... “No one would notice unless they were looking.” “Exactly. And who would, if you didn’t suspect tampering. So that’s your ‘how’.” “Excellent work, both of you. Jyoti, it’s a damn good thing you use your powers for good, not evil.” She grinned. “Now I know how, I think I know who.” “Want to share?” Kirin asked. “Not yet. I can’t. But thank you. Send me the invoice—and no discounts, okay? Dad

can afford it.” “As you wish. Still on for lunch?” “Sure. You’ll report to TransPlanet?” “Yes, and I’ll prepare a formal report for you as well. I thought you’d want to see this as soon as possible.” “I did. Thank you.” So if someone got into the residence, they could have abstracted the bracelet without detection. But that someone had to know where the bracelet was, and in what container. The security guards had to be involved. But how? And more to the point, why? The whole team was back in the office, so I picked their highly trained minds. “Why would someone steal back something he’d just been paid a good deal of money for?” “To resell,” Madan said. “Yes, but the potential market here is small. The risk of the purchaser finding out is high.” “The second purchaser offered a lot more money and the thief thought it was worth it,” Vik suggested. “Yes, possibly. Right, that’s your next job. Vik, I want you to find out all you can about an indigenous craftsman called Jasraj, from early first colonial period. I want to know what his stuff is worth, how much of it there is, and particularly, the history and value of this piece.” On my reader I showed him the image of the bracelet my mother had taken, then shot it off to his account. “Prachi, I want everything on Timin Veringe. Criminal history, if any, family, business, everything. Who he’s sleeping with, who hates him, who he hangs around with.” “Yes, boss,” they chorused. “Veringe,” Madan said slowly. “I know that name.” “The artist. Society darling. And thief, if I’m right.” “So who else does he sell to?” “That’s what I need to find out.” But the man who could tell me was furious with me right now. With Shardul, subtlety was a waste of time—he saw it as deceit, and he despised dishonesty. So I sent him a straightforward message. “I think Timin Veringe is stealing stuff he’s sold back from clients. I want to take him down. I need your help. Who does he sell to?”

An hour later, I had his answer. “You only want to help your mother.” I wrote, “I want to stop trade. Stop her buying, stop him selling. What else can we do?” “Demand all trading is licensed, and ask govt to buy back artefacts sold. Protect them as cultural heritage for whole country.” “I’m no politician. Just a cop. I catch the bad guys, you work on govt. I’ll help you. Help me?” My phone went. “Javen Ythen.” “Javen, you have no right to ask this.” “Yes, I do, Shardul, because it’s your heritage, and mine, even if you don’t like to admit that. The Kelons are never going to act.” “How sure are you that Veringe’s behind it?” “Aside from my mother, he’s the only one who could know what was going to be in that parcel at that time. He even engineered a delay ensuring the bracelet would be in the residence overnight. It’s either him or a confederate. So if he stole it back, then he’s probably got a buyer. Who does he deal with?” “Can’t you work it out for yourself? People like your mother. Society women. They just love all that ethnic craftwork, don’t you know.” “So mostly they’re not selling off world?” “Not to my knowledge. I’m not happy at this development.” “I got that, okay? Thanks for the tip. I’ll let you know how I get on.” “Take out Veringe, and another replaces him.” “Maybe, maybe not. Shardul, trust me. I think I’ve proved you can.” A long pause, and then a sigh. “Yes, you have. I have to go.” “Thanks for calling.” He closed the call. I tapped the desk, thinking. Society women, I knew nothing about. But I happened to be related to an expert. I made a call. “Mum, if you’d bought that bracelet for yourself, what would you do with it?” “What an odd question, Javen. I’d wear it, of course.” “But where?” “The occasion? If I’d spent that kind of money on myself—or your father had—I’d want to show it off. It was a very beautiful piece.”

“And can you think of an occasion soon where you’d show it off?” “Of course. The Governor’s Ball this weekend. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. I sent you an invitation, even though I knew you’d never come.” I grinned at Prachi, watching me. “Mum, could you wangle some extra invitations for me?” “What are you up to, dear?” “Investigating, Mum. I’ll need another four.” “I’ll need names for security.” “You’ll have them by the end of the day.” I closed the connection. “Prachi, my dear, would you like to go to a ball?” ~~~~~~~~ I’d set my assistants a fairly challenging task, but they were more than up to it. Hard to decide which of them was better at research. Vik, maybe, by a hair, but both had made themselves indispensable in the six months they’d worked for me. By the next day, they had reports for me. “The interesting thing about that picture of the bracelet is that it’s inside out,” Vik said when I called them together to tell me what they’d found. “What? Are you sure?” “Absolutely. Its design allows it to be worn both ways, but the usual way is with the red enamel facing outwards, not the blue the way your mother has it. It’s a welldocumented piece, made as a wedding gift by Jasraj for his wife. There are portraits of people wearing it. A real treasure. Shame it’s been lost.” “Agreed. What’s it worth?” “Here? Based on other pieces of his that have been sold, easily as much as four thousand dolar. But it’s probably worth more because it’s unique. Jasraj never made another piece like it.” Mum had paid five and a half, and sold it for eight. Had Veringe found someone to pay even more? Very likely. “Good work. Prachi, tell me about friend Veringe.” “He migrated from Kelon three years ago, and set up here in Hegal. He began collecting artefacts almost immediately, with a small display at his studio. His work has become fashionable, but the volume of sales wouldn’t account for the purchase of a house, studio and auto.” “He’s making more money on artefacts?”

“And other things perhaps. He was charged with illegal drug trading on Kelon, but the charge failed for lack of evidence. He emigrated not long after.” “If he’s acquiring certain items by dodgy methods, he could be acquiring other things. Much more lucrative to deal drugs without excise duties and licenses. Anything in the local police records about that?” “Nothing. Officially, he’s clean.” Shardul had called him a reptile. But Shardul hadn’t elaborated. I wish he had. “Okay. So the worst we know of him officially is that he varies his sources of income. Does he declare all of it? Tax records?” “For the last three years, he’s made an annual net income of approximately twenty thousand dolar. The public record doesn’t show how that was composed.” “See if you can find other artists to compare him with, Prachi, but I doubt we’ll prove much this way. He’s keeping himself respectable for his clients. If we can prove he’s a thief, we’ll hit both his income streams.” “You’re not just trying to retrieve the bracelet, boss?” Vik asked. “If Veringe’s behind this, I want him out of business. I definitely want him out of the artefacts trade. So the next step is find out what happened to the bracelet, and hope that gives us the connection to Veringe.” Madan had been listening from his desk, working on his cases. He decided to contribute his own idea. “What if he sent it off world himself?” “Shhh,” I said. “Don’t invite bad luck.” “Says the Scientific Rationalist.” Vik and Prachi grinned at Madan poking the only atheist in the office. “Bad luck exists,” I said primly. “I just don’t believe it’s caused by supernatural forces.” “So how can you invite it?” “Don’t you guys have work to do? Shoo, I’m busy.” Some days, I didn’t get any respect. ~~~~~~~~ I put off lunch with Kirin because I arranged a much grander outing for us. When I asked him if he felt like doing a bit of amateur sleuthing, he leapt at the chance. “I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I said, surprised at his enthusiasm. “You never were before when...uh....”

“I wasn’t. But I’ve never seen you in action and I...uh...always kind of wanted to.” “Kirin.” He smiled reassuringly, all teeth and crinkly eyes. “It’s okay, Javen. I’m not trying to recreate anything. You know I have a bit of a thing for cops.” I relaxed. “I remember. I’d like you to take Vik. I’ll take Prachi.” “Sure. Why that way around?” “Everyone knows my preferences, so if I take Vik, people will assume I’m sleeping with him, and he doesn’t need the attention.” “But you don’t mind if people think I’m sleeping with a lovely indigenous boy who looks about fifteen.” “He’s twenty, and you’ll survive. I’ll pick you up from the house at seven.” “It’s a date,” he said lightly. I’d asked Jyoti to accompany Shardul, who’d requested to use one of the spare invitations, much to my surprise. I hoped he wasn’t going to cause a scene, but he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And I confessed to a little curiosity myself as to what he was up to. I arranged a party taxi for our group, collecting Shardul and Jyoti from Roshni-ji’s house. I pressed the door bell, and stood by the taxi to wait. A few moments later, Shardul emerged, and I blinked. He wore a jaunty beaded hat that glittered in the street light, an embroidered open, sleeveless vest equally extravagantly decorated and nicely setting off his muscled chest, and a pair of purple light cloth trousers, cut tight and low around his hips, and hanging in generous folds around his legs. They drew attention to his crotch as effectively as if he’d hung an illuminated sign on it. After staring for a bit, I realised he was also wearing beaded slippers. “Sainted reason,” I breathed. “Is there’s a problem, Javen?” I swallowed. “Not at all. Is Jyoti ready?” “Yes. My dear?” She stepped out of the doorway. “Bloody hell!” I whispered. She shimmered. Her outfit was far more modest than Shardul’s as far as covering her, but her arms and neck glittered with beads and polished stones, the cloth of the flowing skirt over her loose trousers, and the long shirt shot through with reflective thread. It could have been gaudy, but instead, looked magnificent. Her braids, usually tied up in a coil

behind her head, flowed around her shoulders like a fantastic mane, each tail terminating in a tiny, shiny ornament. “You look like a queen,” I said to Jyoti, bowing to her. “And quite stunning.” “Thank you, Javen. I’ll have the company of two handsome men tonight.” “Pity our loveliness is wasted on you,” Shardul quipped, taking her arm and guiding her to the taxi. “At least no one’s likely to mistake us for the help.” The driver baulked when he saw them, locking the doors so they couldn’t get in. “Hey, I didn’t agree to picking up anyone in fancy dress.” “You didn’t agree you wouldn’t,” I said, leaning into his window and speaking in a soft tone. “Be quiet, be polite, and I’ll be generous with a tip. Make a scene, and I’ll make sure you lose your job and your carriage license. Now lower your voice and treat these fine people with respect, or I’ll kick your arse.” “Are you threatening me?” “Yes.” He glared at me, but I stared back until he lowered his eyes. “Tell them to get in.” The door locks clicked. “Sushri Jyoti, Sri Shardul, would you care to step inside?” I called. Jyoti would have sensed the little prick’s hostility, and Shardul would have guessed it even without the overheard insults. Now I wished I’d brought my own vehicle. “Sorry,” I mouthed at Jyoti. She shrugged. Shardul patted her hand, and gave me a dirty look. “Sorry,” I said to him too. This wasn’t what I’d planned. We collected my trainees from their homes. To my amusement I found formal clothes made Vik look even younger. Kirin would have a fit. “You look very fine,” I told him. Jyoti hid a smile. “Good evening, Shardul,” Vik said. “Nice to see you again, Vik. How’s working for the evil oppressor going?” Vik smiled brightly. “The beatings have stopped and he’s feeding us every other day now. So it’s good.” Prachi giggled. I whacked my insolent assistant on the arm. “Quiet or the shackles go back on, beto.” “Come the revolution, Ythen, you’ll be the first one we hang from the ramparts.”

“Yeah, yeah. All talk, Shardul.” The driver glanced at me in the mirror. I gave him a broad grin. Shardul, leaning back in the shadows, smirked. I owed him that. Kirin looked a lot better in evening wear than I did, and even though we weren’t together any more, I felt proud to be with such a good-looking guy. Three of them, for sure. Shardul was probably the prettiest person in the taxi, but Kirin reminded me of when I’d first met him and had been bowled over by the handsome geek. I kissed his cheek. “You look quite edible.” “Thank you. I’d offer you a nibble but...children, don’t you know.” “He’s twenty.” “I want to see some ID.” He smiled as he got in the taxi. “Hello everyone. Jyoti, my goodness, you look simply gorgeous.” “I hope some Kelon socialites drop dead out of pure envy,” Shardul said. “Sri Nel.” “Shardul-ji,” Kirin acknowledged. I rolled my eyes. It was a wonder Shardul didn’t lower his pants and wave his dick in Kirin’s face to show who was boss. Kirin had no idea why Shardul didn’t like him. Neither did I, to be honest. Shardul had been hostile from the minute he’d met him. Men. At the residence, I gave the taxi driver a tip though I felt more like reporting him. Easier to just send him away without a fuss, so the evening wouldn’t be tainted further by his attitude. I’d been to exactly one Governor’s Ball since my father won the position, while I was still a police officer. I’d gone in uniform, alone, and been pictured with Yashi, also then single, and my parents, the perfect image of the perfect family. I’d hated every minute of it. Yashi had since gone with Tara a couple of times, but the novelty had worn off, and now they’d rather spend the evening at home with the kids. Didn’t blame them at all. But now I was here with such attractive and congenial companions, I could almost enjoy the prospect. We walked in with men in richly embroidered coats and sharp trousers, and women dressed in flowing silk sarees and gems on hands, ears, necks and in their hair. None outshone our Jyoti. Heads turned, and people murmured in surprise as Shardul led his beautiful companion into the ballroom. I was certain very few, if any, had ever seen any Nihan in full finery before. Certainly, none had ever entered the ball as a personal guest of this governor either. Shardul radiated excitement. He was up to something, but what? Conversations stopped, though the music continued, and dancing couples slowed to a halt to stare at our little group. I rolled my eyes. “Anyone would think they’d never seen

you guys before. Prachi, would you like to dance?” “Yes, boss,” she said, eyes twinkling. Shardul led Jyoti behind us, and Kirin, throwing caution and reputation to the winds, took Vik’s hand and joined us on the floor. My mother would have organised everything for the ball. I recognised her exquisite taste in the large flower arrangements emitting a subtle scent through the air, and in the slowly twisting ceiling decorations, sending sparkling light and colour over the crowd. The music was live, of course—no recordings for Mum—and the instruments impeccably tuned. The familiar popular tune playing now was irresistible to anyone who loved to dance. But even so, for far too long, we were the only people on the floor, while my Kelon countrymen showed a complete lack of manners, staring and muttering to each other. But then, either sick of staring, or unable to resist the lure of the lively music, another couple joined us, and another, and soon the floor filled again, though with a conspicuous distance kept between Shardul and Jyoti, and the other dancers. Did people think they could catch being indigenous or something? Shardul danced beautifully. Of course he did. He did everything beautifully. Kirin had learned to dance at his private school, same as I had. But where had Shardul? And where had Jyoti? I suspected shenanigans, and grinned to myself. “What’s so funny, boss?” “Call me ‘Javen’ here, Prachi, or ‘sir’ if you must. Just wondering what Shardul’s doing?” “Poking people in the eye, sir. Like you are.” “Not so obviously. We do have to look for this bracelet.” “Yes, but can we have some fun first? And a drink?” When we finished the dance, I bowed to her and took her hand. “This way, my lady,” I said, and headed to the bar. My mother found us while I was ordering Prachi a glass of wine, fruit juice for me, damn it. “Javen, what on earth do you think you’re doing bringing those people here in those outrageous outfits?” “Good evening, Mother. Mother, this is Prachi Abhay, one of my able assistants. My friends are here to help me.” “Dressed like that?”

“You have a problem with cultural displays, Mum? Half the women here are wearing indigenous jewellery.” “Yes, but not....” She fell silent as Shardul and Jyoti came over. “Shardul, Jyoti, let me introduce you to my mother, Shrimati Ythen. Mother, Sri Shardul Hema Rishabh, one of Hegal’s finest lawyers, and Sushri Jyoti Tejal Hiranya.” Jyoti bowed a little. Shardul nodded politely. “Jyoti works with Kirin. He’s here too.” “Oh, is he?” Mum liked Kirin, which is why I’d mentioned him. “Er, nice to meet you both. Er, Sushri Hiranya, that’s a very striking costume.” “Traditional celebratory wear among our people, Shrimati Ythen,” Shardul said. “Sadly it’s rarely possible for a full display these days.” “Oh? Why’s that?” She wasn’t really interested, but politeness made her keep on with the conversation. “Because the trade in the beadwork and jewellery has pushed the prices up too much for our people to acquire new work, and those who haven’t already sold their inherited pieces to be traded to your people, find they are targeted by thieves and muggers who steal the goods and pass them to illegal artefact merchants. It’s a great loss to the Nihan and our culture.” He fixed her with those laser bright eyes and she flushed. “Er...I’m sure. Javen, dear, do excuse me. I must speak to your father.” She rushed off, relieved to get away. I turned to Shardul. “You’re evil.” “Yes, I am. Did any of that penetrate?” “To be honest, I doubt it. But keep telling people. Don’t forget we came here for a reason, though.” “You came for a reason. I came for entirely different reasons.” “Fine, but keep an eye out for the bracelet. We should circulate. If nothing else, you two will form such a distraction, the rest of us will slip by unnoticed. Jyoti, I claim a dance later. Shardul, same for you.” He couldn’t refuse, but he narrowed his eyes. “You may regret that, Ythen.” “I count on it. Now, to work, boys and girls.” Kirin was still dancing, and Vik did his best to keep up. They looked delicious together, despite the apparently huge age gap. I had to give Kirin credit—the idea of not being seen with an indigenous companion had obviously never entered his head, and he treated Vik like any other date, determined to give him a damn good time. But Vik was

here to work, so as Prachi and I joined them briefly on the dance floor, I whispered, “Bracelet” into Kirin’s flushed left ear. “Oh. Now?” “Soon. But you can dance as well. Don’t forget to feed and water him. These young things have needs.” “I’ll get you for that remark, Javen.” “Good. People are taking pictures.” He grinned. “Excellent.” I smiled at Vik and gave him a discreet thumbs-up. My assistant grinned back toothily. I hoped he didn’t think investigative work would always be this glamorous. One of the women watching the dancing recognised me, and smiled. I wandered over. “Good evening, Shrimati Ceral. May I introduce Prachi, my assistant?” “Welcome, Prachi, and Javen, dear, called me Hita. How are you? I’ve heard nothing of you for years. What are you doing now?” I settled into conversation with my mother’s old friend. Prachi pretended to listen attentively, but like me, she scanned the other women for signs of the distinctive bracelet. Nothing so far, but I used Hita’s welcome to insinuate myself in conversations with other women. One of their husbands was bold enough to ask Prachi to dance while I talked to his wife. The resulting jealousy and attention from the women onlookers let me move unnoticed among them and check out their wrists. Vik and Kirin were busy too, at the bar and buffet. Kirin had always attracted female admiration despite being as openly homosexual as me, and every time I looked over at the two of them, a woman was talking to him, gazing up at him with unrealistic lust in her eyes. Everyone ignored Vik, though I noticed a few men giving him thoughtful looks. Shardul and Jyoti were heading back to the dance floor. I moved alongside and insinuated myself between them. “Ah, may I claim my dance now, Jyoti?” “Certainly, Javen. Sorry, Shardul.” Shardul made a face. “Then I shall have to claim another companion.” He marched straight up to Hita, bowed, and asked her to dance. Even at this distance, I felt her utter shock. I was sure that was the only reason she let Shardul take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. I smiled sweetly at Jyoti. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?” “If her husband doesn’t have a heart attack.”

Sri Ceral stood bug-eyed at the edge of the dance floor. If Shardul gave him the least excuse, the man would march over and drag his wife away, but Shardul was much too smart for that. Dancing with Jyoti was like dancing with a man. She was tall as me, and obviously had taken the male part when learning, but she moved with such regal grace that any awkwardness disappeared in moments. “Everyone’s watching you,” I whispered. “Those who aren’t watching Shardul.” “The men are watching you. And half the women, probably hoping to scratch your eyes out.” “Fortunately, I don’t care.” I grinned, and twirled her around. When that dance ended, Shardul handed Hita back to her frowning husband with a flourish. Hita fanned her flushed face and gave Shardul a flirtatious smile, which only made Sri Ceral frown more ferociously. Shardul turned, and asked the woman next to them to dance. For the next hour, he danced with nearly half the female guests in the room. I danced with Jyoti, and then Kirin, and Prachi again, once her latest consort let her go. She nodded at Shardul, sweeping an elderly dowager around the floor like a teenager. “What’s he up to?” “I have no idea, but I’m enjoying the show.” I discreetly pressed my earpiece. “Vik? Any sign of the bracelet?” “No, sir. We’ve checked most of the women now.” “Keep going. We can’t be sure the purchaser exists or is here. Oh, and Vik? Ask Shardul to dance.” “Yes, sir.” I heard his grin. “You’re the evil one, sir,” Prachi said. “Stick with me and learn my methods, my dear.” When the dance finished, I saw my mother watching us, and out of politeness, I figured I should ask the old girl to dance. Kirin had already done so, though Shardul pointedly had not. “Mum, would you care to?” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know, Javen. You and your friends seem to be enjoying yourselves a little too much.”

I took her hand. “Only because you know how to throw a great party. Come on, let’s show this lot how it’s done.” She was naturally an excellent dancer, but she felt stiff and awkward in my arms. “Relax, Mum.” “I can’t.” “Are you expecting Timin Veringe to turn up?” “Oh, no. We sent an invitation, but he’s unable to attend this year. He usually does though.” “Right.” Of course a purveyor of dodgy merchandise was welcome at the governor’s house, but Induma Kly hadn’t been invited, even though her late husband would have been. Mum would never get it. She tensed again. “Javen, what are you and your ‘friends’ up to?” “I can’t tell you, except it’s about your case. When we find what we’re looking for, I’ll tell you.” She made a face, and then her frown deepened. I followed her gaze. Shardul, dancing with Vik. Both of them obviously enjoying themselves. “Disgusting,” she said. “He’s only a child.” “He’s twenty. And Shardul’s a year younger than me. Both adults.” “Yes, but.... That man was revoltingly rude to me, and you let him.” “Shardul? He wasn’t rude.” “He was. All that nonsense about banis jewellery.” “He was only telling you the truth, Mum. And politely too. If he’d been rude, he’d have left you in tears. Trust me on this.” “He’s a dreadful man.” “He’s a lawyer. They’re paid to be dreadful. But he’s actually a very good person.” “He’s been flaunting himself all night.” “Asking your friends to dance? Why is that wrong? The ladies enjoyed themselves. Ask Hita. Or are you mad because he didn’t ask you?” “I’d never dance with—” “A banis?” She went stiff. “Someone that rude,” she said coldly. “Are you accusing me of racism, Javen?”

“No, Mum,” I said with a sigh. “I just don’t know why Shardul bothers you.” “I don’t like show-offs.” “Fair enough. He’s certainly that. But he’s not a bad person.” “If you say so. Kirin looks lovely, doesn’t he?” My ex was dancing with Jyoti. “They both do.” “I thought you coming together might mean you’d reconsidered the break up.” “No, Mum. It’s years ago now.” “Shame. He’s from such a good family.” “Yes, Mum.” I regretted my polite impulse. These conversations had a certain inevitability about them. I could hardly shed her after one dance, so I gritted my teeth and took her for another whirl around the floor. But as I passed Jyoti, she pointed, and I turned to see Kirin walking towards a temporarily partnerless Shardul. Kirin bowed and held out his hand, while I held my breath. “Javen? What’s wrong?” “Nothing, Mum.” I turned her so she couldn’t see. Shardul, scowling, took Kirin’s hand like he thought it was contagious, and Kirin took him out onto the floor. Jyoti grinned at me. My ex needed his head read, honestly. I irritated my mother by my inattention, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Shardul and Kirin together. Both so handsome and desirable, Kirin, dark and sleek, Shardul a bright ornament, blazing with life and energy. I wasn’t the only one avidly watching them. Shardul had drawn a lot of attention that evening, and now he had all that upon him and more. Kirin smiled the whole time as if he really enjoyed himself. Shardul revealed nothing in his expression except studied concentration, his movements graceful, precise, perfect. A dance to prove a point, not to woo. The second the music ended, he let Kirin go, bowed, and moved off the floor. My mother squeezed my arm to get my attention. “I think that’s enough, Javen. Your father wants me.” I let her go. “Oh, of course. I should say hello.” “Yes, you should.” Dad wasn’t pleased to see me, and didn’t bother to hide the fact. “Javen, are you enjoying the evening?” The same tone he’d used in my childhood to demand a confession of some heinous prank or other.

“Yes, very much. I should introduce you to my friends.” “No need. I’ve had reports all evening about them. Did you bring them along in costume to make a point?” “No, Dad. That’s indigenous formal dress. Why shouldn’t they wear it?” “They’re not all wearing it.” “Next time I’ll make sure they are,” I said with more sarcasm than was polite. “Are you here to make a scene or are you working on our situation?” “Oh, I always turn up at your functions to make trouble, didn’t you know?” I knew better than to rise to Dad’s bait, but could he not pretend to be pleasant? “Good evening, Governor Ythen.” I turned, startled. What did Shardul want? He smiled and jerked his head slightly, and I remembered my manners. “Ah, Dad, this is my friend, Shardul Hema Rishabh. One of our top lawyers.” “So I hear. You’re clearly enjoying yourself, Sri Rishabh.” Shardul bowed a little. “Indeed I am, sir, and honoured by the invitation. I’ve never been invited to one of your balls before. Perhaps you don’t like lawyers?” Dad’s personal lawyer was standing less than a metre away, and Shardul damn well knew it. Dad coughed. “Ah, no. An oversight, I think. Always glad to have our legal community represented at such events. Did you want to talk to me about something?” “Only to thank you, sir, and to ask your son to dance. I believe you owe me one, Javen?” Dad’s eyebrows hit his hairline as I nodded. “Yes, I do. Excuse me, Dad, but I did promise. Shardul, I hope you dance as well as my mother.” Shardul bowed to her. “I could never dance like she does. Coming?” He led me with ridiculous formality onto the dance floor, just as a slow, rather romantic number started. “I thought I was asking you to dance,” I said. “You will, but you needed rescuing.” “Thanks. You’ve made quite a reputation for yourself tonight.” “Yes. All part of my plan.” “A charm offensive?” I found it hard to concentrate on the conversation with Shardul’s lean half-bare body pressed against mine. Bastard. “Difficult to believe.” “Believe what you want. It also gave me a chance to look at wrists and ask, in a

general way, about recent acquisitions of bracelets and so on. Unfortunately, with no luck.” “I appreciate the effort. You didn’t ask my mother to dance.” He arched a graceful red eyebrow at me. “I’m not that big a hypocrite, Javen.” “But you accepted Kirin’s invitation.” “Yes. Nice of him to honour the poor little ethnic, wasn’t it?” “He’s been dancing with Vik most of the night. He’s not doing that as a favour.” “Whatever you say.” He spun me slowly, and handed me the lead, smooth as oiled glass. “Where the hell did you learn to dance like this?” “I’m a fast learner.” “Are you saying that you learned to dance in the three days’ warning you had of this?” “Yes.” “You’re lying.” He grinned. “Yes. Note, you asked me if I was claiming it, not if it was true.” “Prat. So why do you dance so well?” “I learned at University. I was in the dance society. Why, aren’t we allowed to?” “I don’t know. Are you allowed to run like hell when all the jealous husbands have to listen to their wives mooning over you?” “I have long legs and an intense survival instinct. You dance adequately.” “Oh, thank you. I suppose you prefer Kirin.” He spun me around again, and drew me in close. “No,” he breathed. If I’d had just a smidgeon more to drink, and a smidgeon less sense of selfpreservation, I’d have kissed him then. He was daring me to, but I wouldn’t kiss him on a dare. “You looked good together.” “I look good with anyone.” “You do.” I moved back a little, and twirled him. “Change any hearts and minds tonight?” “Doubt it. But desensitisation is a wonderful tool, and think how relieved people will be when I turn up next year in proper Kelon clothes like an obedient native.” “I wouldn’t like that.” “I’ll give your opinion all the consideration it deserves, Sri Ythen.”

“You do—” Vik’s voice on my earpiece interrupted me. “Boss, we found it.” “Good work. Don’t do anything until I find you. Where are you?” “At the buffet.” “And my mother?” “Talking to your father near the musicians.” “Okay. Stay where you are.” I focused on Shardul again. “Found it.” “Fine. But I wish to finish this dance.” “By all means, your lordship.” He spun me around the dance floor with the flair of a professional, and if I imagined his slow burning gaze meant anything other than he wanted to look the part, then that was my problem. I refused to listen to the treacherous information my empathy fed me. How much was simple wish fulfilment, how much the truth? With Shardul, making assumptions was a very dangerous thing. When the music finished, he bowed. “I suppose I’ll have to wait for the other dance.” I returned the bow. “Regrettably, yes. We need to get to the buffet. Try to resist the temptation to charm any more women.” He took my arm as we walked through the massed guests, as if we had come to the ball on a date. Even though I knew it was part of whatever mind game he was playing with these people, the gesture both confused and pleased me, though I knew him too well to read too much into it. Vik was stuffing his face with pastries. I pinched one off his plate. “Where?” He didn’t turn. “By the statue of the man with the bow and arrow. Jyoti and Kirin are watching. Woman in a green and yellow saree. She’s wearing the bracelet the right way around but both Jyoti and I saw it and know it’s the one.” “Great.” I ate the pastry unhurriedly. “Right, I need to speak to my mother. Shardul, would you and Vik keep her under surveillance? If she leaves, I’ll need a description for Mum.” Shardul nodded and I headed over to where my parents were chatting, near the now resting musicians. My mother scowled at me. “Finished making a display of yourself, Javen?” “He’s a very good dancer. Mum, I need to speak you in private, now. Dad? Can you excuse us?”

“Shouldn’t I come with you?” “Not if you don’t want everyone in the room to know something’s up.” “This way, Javen,” Mum said, leading me towards the main residence. She took me into the library. “We’ve found the bracelet,” I said. “Where? Oh, that’s wonderful! But who—” I held up my hand. “Wait. It’s complicated, and the person with it is likely to be completely unaware of its history. I believe Timin Veringe arranged the bracelet to be stolen from your office, so he could resell it, probably for a higher price. There’s a woman here wearing it. I need you to identify her, and then we decide how to approach her.” “Timin? But why? He has such a good reputation.” “Not among the indigenous, he doesn’t. I don’t have time to discuss it, but you must make sure you don’t talk about this to anyone before we move. Now, come with me, and I’ll lead you past the woman in question. Don’t talk to her or stare. She’s wearing a green and yellow saree. Ready?” My mother’s arm was rigid with the tension I sensed in her, but to a casual observer, no one would see anything other than her usual pleasant expression. I took her past Jyoti and Kirin, who made no move to indicate the woman, but as they neatly bracketed her, there was no need for them to do that. My mother stiffened slightly as we walked past, but said nothing. I walked her back to the buffet. “Harinakshi Narl,” she said in a whisper. “She’s a friend. How could she steal—” “She almost certainly didn’t. Let’s make our way back to the library. I’ll need you to summon Dad too, I think.” My father stomped into the library five minutes later. “Javen, you really have been a damn nuisance this evening.” “Rajan, he found the bracelet.” His sour expression became delighted. “Really? Where is it?” “On Harinakshi Narl’s wrist,” Mum said. “What?” I waved him to a chair. “Dad, sit down, will you? This needs cool heads and a delicate touch.” ~~~~~~~~ An hour later, I dropped off two tiddly and jubilant assistants at their homes, and a smug and rather high ex-boyfriend back at his house. “We must do that again,” Kirin said

as he hugged me extravagantly. I unwound his arms from around my neck, and kissed his cheek. “Yeah, we must. Sleep well.” Then to drop Jyoti back to her home, and finally Shardul, who’d said nothing for the entire journey. As the taxi pulled up at his office, above which he lived, I said a little hesitantly because I knew I was imposing, “I’d like to talk to you about this. When do you have time?” He paused, his hand on the door lock. “Now?” “Here? In your apartment?” “Office.” I sent the party taxi on its way, slightly disappointed not to be invited into Shardul’s private residence, but not really expecting that I would be. He’d made that clear from the start and the only surprise was that he had patience for more of my company tonight. “Chai?” he asked. “Yes, please. My mother doesn’t believe in serving it on formal occasions.” “Her loss. I won’t be long.” He went out to where I assumed the staff kitchen lay. I slumped into a chair, exhausted but pleased. Not only had the plan worked, my staff and friends had had a good time, and some pains in the arse had had their noses tweaked. A good night’s work by anyone’s reckoning. And I’d danced with Shardul. A very good night’s work. He returned with two mugs of chai. I jerked upright as he set it down on the desk in front of me. I must have been dozing off. “Perhaps it’s too late for this,” he said. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate you taking the time, actually. Not just now...this evening.” “I forced myself on you.” “Don’t I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “You helped a good deal. And you gave my friends a wonderful time.” I lifted my mug in salute. “Thank you.” “It was an honour.” “Even dancing with Kirin?” His upper lip curled a little in disdain. “It wasn’t a hardship. I’ve done more distasteful acts. Tell me about the bracelet.” “Mum will invite Shrimati Narl to the residence for chai and chat. It’ll have to be done very carefully. Both she and her husband are powerful people, and the slightest hint they’re

being accused of theft will cause a stink.” “They are thieves...only not in the way your mother thinks.” “Yes, well, I won’t argue.” “Will you approach Veringe?” “What would you advise?” He sipped his chai, his eyes thoughtful. “Tricky. On one hand, he can hardly have an explanation as to how the same bracelet was sold twice—assuming he’s the vendor the second time around, which we don’t know. On the other, there’s no direct proof he stole the item from the residence, so he could say the bracelet came back from Kelon in apparently legitimate ways, and disproving that could be difficult. Prosecuting him would undoubtedly involve your parents in scandal and might easily not result in a conviction, then he could turn around and sue you for defamation on top of it.” “So we need to find out how he got it out of the residence, and tie it back to him.” “Suborning a security guard is the most likely answer.” “I know,” I said, rubbing my face with tiredness and exasperation. “But a guard can’t have done it.” “You interviewed them all?” “All but two. One’s on vacation, the other broke his foot and is home on sick leave. I don’t have permission to talk to them outside work. But the others are clean, I’m sure of it. Anyway, the tagging system means none of them could have done it.” “That’s what TransPlanet said about their packets. There will be a way. You just need to figure it out.” “I still think the purchaser on Kelon is in on this. His behaviour stinks of guilt.” “Agreed,” he said, to my surprise. “But unless Veringe admits that, you’ll never prove it.” “If he is, and Veringe’s arrested, the guy will back off.” “Yes. He’s on shaky ground legally, claiming collateral damages, whatever that incompetent advising your father says. I think he’s trying it on, personally, even if he’s not colluding with Veringe.” “I’ll pass that on to my father without the personal remarks, if I may.” “No, don’t. Just suggest he seeks a second opinion. He hates me enough without inflaming the situation. I turned his little function into a freak show, I heard him say as I passed.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think that at all.” Shardul smiled. “If you did, I’d never have gone with you. I do need his support though if we’re to get licensing legislation passed. Representative Gopan’s prepared to propose it as an emergency motion, but we need support from the council of governors.” “So that’s what you were doing tonight. Sweet-talking the wives to convince the husbands.” He bowed his head. “Guilty as charged.” “Will it work?” “Who knows, but I had to try. A little loss of dignity is nothing. I dare say the media will have fun. My images was taken at least thirty times tonight, and so was Jyoti’s.” “Is that good?” “Have to see. An indigenous man getting into the news for relatively benign reasons is rare enough.” I drained my mug of chai, and yawned. “Wow, it’s one in the morning. Do you have to work tomorrow?” “Fortunately, no. But I should let you go home.” We stood. For a second or two, it felt eerily like that awkward moment after a first date, when you don’t know if you should offer to stay because you’re not sure if the guy wants to have sex or not. I could have sworn Shardul was feeling something along those lines too but it was probably just projection. I didn’t dare think otherwise. He held his hand out, and stupidly I went to take it. “Your mug, Javen?” “Oh. Oh! Sorry. I really need to get some sleep.” “I could call you a taxi but there’s a rank ten minutes walk away which would be faster. I could take you down there?” I waved him away. “Nah. I’m fine. Thanks. Need to wake up so I can sleep properly. Talk to you...whenever. When I hear from Mum.” “Good night, Javen. Sleep well.” He’d never said that to me before. Never been around at bedtime, I supposed. I grinned, mumbled a farewell and headed off. The cool night air woke me up nicely, and by the time I got to the taxi rank, I was a little more sober and alert and less inclined to foolish notions about tight-arsed Nihani lawyers. But the memory of Shardul holding me as we danced still lingered, bright and warm, and whatever happened over this wretched bracelet, the evening would not have

been a waste, just because of that. ~~~~~~~~ “Wakey, wakey, brother of mine.” I squinted at the clock by the bed. Seven. My brother was a sadist. “Piss off, Yashi.” “Such language. Maybe I can persuade you by reading a little from this morning’s news report. ‘Governor’s son shows off new banis lover at his father’s ball.’ Last night, the cream of Hegal society was agog at Governor’s Ythen’s son, Javen, using the occasion to show off his new relationship with indigenous lawyer and activist, Shardul Rishabh. When asked about the liaison, Governor Ythen said—” “Give me that!” I grabbed for his reader. Yashi held it out of my reach. “No, he said ‘He had no comment at this time, and his son’s affairs were a private matter.’ Sri Rishabh could not be reached for comment as we went to press.” “Cursed insanity. Shardul is going to eviscerate me.” “Never mind Shardul. Dad must be spitting blood.” “Are you making this up?” He showed me the screen. There, in full colour, was a shot of me and Shardul dancing, staring into each other’s eyes like a pair of lovestruck fools. I groaned, and pulled the sheets back over my head. “Shoot me now.” “So when are you going to bring him around to meet us as your new partner?” “Never. It’s ridiculous. He went with Jyoti, for fuck’s sake.” “Language. Mum must be delighted.” “They know it’s rubbish. At least, they’d better. Fuck, Shardul!” “Did you?” “Yashi, piss off. I need to call him.” “Sure. Wouldn’t want to listen to your ‘private affairs’, after all.” I threw my pillow at him and he made his escape. Then I found my phone. A message was waiting for me. “Have read news report. When should we announce wedding?” I groaned in pain. Bloody stupid reporters. I called Shardul’s number. He picked up immediately. “Ah, my intended. How are you this morning, sweetheart?” “I had nothing to do with this, I swear.”

“I know. It’s hilarious. My aunt nearly choked to death laughing. My first call this morning was Jyoti, giggling her head off and telling me to read the news report.” I relaxed. “I suppose it could be worse.” “Indeed. And if you care to read further, there are some flattering pictures of Jyoti and Vik, without too much in the way of snide commentary. Just don’t read comments on the articles. They’re vile as usual.” “I won’t. So...a success so far as you’re concerned?” “Not a failure. Though if you’re breaking off our engagement, I suppose I ought to issue a press release so it’s known I’m back in the game.” “You do and I’ll break your lilywhite neck.” He laughed. “Come on, Javen. It’s funny and relatively harmless. Your parents will be furious.” “They will. My brother’s hugging himself with glee at the prospect. Of course it’s not his head it’ll come down on.” “Of course not. The press will move on in a day or two. And the images were quite nice, don’t you think?” “I guess.” I might even print them off, but I’d never tell him. “Shardul, while you’re in such a good mood...what do you know about Veringe and any illicit activities? Other than the artefacts, I mean.” “What I’ve heard is that there is very little he won’t buy or sell, and he’s not choosy how he obtains the goods. I know at least two cases where grieving spouses were persuaded to part with heirlooms at a time when they were emotionally vulnerable, and some of the items I saw last night are ones that disappeared from our community under suspicious circumstances.” “Stolen goods?” “I’m not using that term in a potentially recordable conversation.” Wow. “You’re scared of him.” “You should be scared of him. He has powerful friends and flexible ethics, shall we say.” “What about not so powerful friends—the kind who might be able to enter a residence unnoticed?” A long silence. “This, I won’t discuss on the phone. Give me some time.” “Sure. I’d be grateful for the help.”

“Anything for you, my suckling child.” He closed the call as I tried to control my gag reflex. What a way to kill off my fantasies, Shardul. ~~~~~~~~ Yashi didn’t think the whole thing so funny when some enterprising little squit, having discovered his personal number, called him over breakfast to ask about my ‘private affairs’, and I ended up being forced to bar calls from anyone not already on my contact list. I messaged my people, Kirin and Jyoti to warn them to do the same for the weekend, and then I fled up to my grandfather’s house. Yashi and Tara decided it was a good day to take the kids to the beach. The whole thing tickled my grandfather, though he understood how aggravating it was for the family. He’d read the reports and been curious, he said, about his new grandson-inlaw to be. “Fine looking fellow, don’t you think?” “Yeah,” I said. “But he’d never marry me or any other Kelon.” “Sorry about that, aren’t you?” Granddad radiated nothing but warm sympathy, so I told him the truth. “Very. Please don’t tell Mum and Dad.” “Do I look like a fool, Javen? I can imagine the conversations at the governor’s residence this morning. But all the same...he’s a fine young man.” “He’s gorgeous, but considers himself too good for me.” “Hmmm. Then maybe he’s the fool. Let’s do some gardening. That’ll take your mind off it.” It didn’t, but it gave me a chance to mull a few things about the bracelet case, and other cases I was working on. And about Kirin, and Shardul, and dreams unfulfilled. Back in Hegal, the office message system was full of crap from reporters. I’d got in early just so I could deal with this nonsense, and deleted them all unread. Fortunately— unfortunately for the victims, of course—a beautiful young actress and her lover had died the night before in a murder suicide, and the feeding pack moved on. A governor’s son and a possible indigenous lover had nothing on sex, glamour and death. Two people hadn’t called—my parents. Of course they knew the story was nonsense, but not to have a complaint about the annoyance wasn’t like either of them. Which could mean almost anything, really. I didn’t feel like chasing it up. Madan was first into the office after me. “I hear you had an exciting weekend,” he said,

hanging up his coat. “Everything you heard is a lie.” “But you don’t know what I heard.” “Still a lie. Madan, I need dirt on Timin Veringe. Do you have any contacts with the drug dealers and users? Mine are a little out of date, I’m afraid.” “I’ll see what I can do, but my instincts are this guy doesn’t bother with the street users. His clientele will be the same as the ones who buy the artefacts and the art.” “Society women? Wouldn’t they just ask their doctors to prescribe what they want?” “Depends if prescription drugs do what they want. Say you’re a bored thrill-seeker, and you’ve heard that larin cut with nodil can give you the ride of your life. Who are you going to ask?” “That nice Sri Veringe who brings you the pretties?” “Got it in one. It’s a theory, anyway.” I sighed. “Not one I can prove though. My mother will go thermonuclear if I start asking her friends if they’re sniffing larin.” “Then you have a problem. I’ll ask around but I don’t hold out much hope.” “Do what you can. Thanks.” As if this case wasn’t confusing enough. Prachi and Vik wandered in a little later. Prachi grinned as she saw me. “When’s the wedding, boss?” “Don’t you start. Seriously. I’m lucky Shardul doesn’t hold it against me. How the hell did those reporters get my brother’s phone number, and mine?” “Not me,” Prachi said. “Me either,” Vik said hastily. “It’s okay. I think I know you two have enough sense not to give that kind of thing out. But it’s an object lesson. Because of who I am, who my family is, and the work we do for the Institute, we can be targets anytime, and the attention won’t always be friendly. We can’t afford to fuck up in public. Nice to have your pictures in the news when you’re all dressed up and enjoying yourself. Not so nice when someone’s trying to take your investigator’s licence or your freedom away. Understand?” They nodded, the grins gone completely. Behind them, Madan nodded too, in approval. “But I know you’re both sensible, so take the warning and stick it in your mental files. Just get on with your jobs and I’ll do the best I can to make sure I don’t bring that kind of attention on you.”

Still solemn, they went to their desks. I hated doing that to them, but I’d seen young cops screw their careers by carelessness, and damn it, I should have seen the whole ‘romance’ thing coming myself. Who knew what repercussions that might have for me or Shardul, considering how our respective communities felt about the other? My phone went. I checked the caller before I answered. “Hello, Mum.” “Javen, can you come to the residence this morning?” Her voice vibrated with tension. Anger over the press stories, or something else? “Sure, Mum. I can be there within the hour.” “Soon as you can.” She abruptly closed the call. I stood. “Have to head out. You guys got everything under control?” They did, so I left. If my mother had called me over to the residence just to chew me out, I was not going to take it well. But somehow I thought not. She hadn’t. As soon as I walked into her office, I knew she was upset, not angry. “Mum, what’s wrong?” “I spoke to Harinakshi Narl yesterday. Yashi told me you were away so I waited to call.” I sat down. “Thanks. Sorry about the...you know.” She dismissed my apology with an impatient wave of her hand. “Never mind that. Harinakshi received the bracelet as a gift from her husband on her fiftieth birthday. Which was three days before Timin delivered the bracelet to me.” “What? That can’t be.” “Exactly. Harinakshi’s very angry. Not with me, exactly, but....” “I need to talk to her and her husband.” “Absolutely not. Javen, I’ve involved them in criminality.” Her eyes darted around as if she expected to be arrested at any moment. “No, you haven’t. And Shrimati Narl hasn’t committed a crime either.” I didn’t want to say “done nothing wrong” because it wasn’t exactly true. “Mum, the only way to get you out of this mess is to prove Timin Veringe stole from you. I need to speak to them and have the bracelet examined. One of the versions has to be a fake. The piece is unique.” “I don’t believe this. I just thought it was a way to make a little career on the side as an art dealer. I never thought this would happen.” “You’re not dealing in art so much as people’s lives, Mum. Their history and their

pride.” “You think I deserve this.” She brushed angrily at her eyes. “I think...I’m glad you’re not going to do it any more. Because it’s wrong and it hurts people who can’t fight back. Jyoti’s family once owned pieces like she wore to the ball. But they sold them because they were poor and the money offered was ridiculously high. They shouldn’t have had to sell them, and she could have worn them as of right, instead of borrowing them. One day she’ll be married, and she won’t have her family’s own finery to wear on that day.” “I never stole anything from her.” “No. But we did. The Kelons did.” Her lips thinned. “I was never involved in any discrimination or harm to those people. My parents only arrived here forty years ago, long after the second colonisation began. How dare you accuse me?” “I’m not.” Her anger beat on my head like a metal pipe. “This is getting off track, Mum. I need to speak to Harinakshi Narl and see the bracelet, let an expert examine it. It can all be done with complete discretion.” “She doesn’t want her husband to know a thing about this. He’d be furious.” “All right. But would she visit here to see me, and let someone look at the bracelet?” “I can ask.” Her manner was cold now, not distressed. I’d insulted her and that was uppermost in her mind. “Why don’t you confront Timin, make him tell you the truth?” “Without some proof, he’ll laugh in my face, maybe even sue me. I’m pursuing other lines of investigation, but I need to talk to Shrimati Narl.” “She won’t give up the bracelet.” “I understand. She won’t have to.” “Very well.” She made a show of looking through papers on her desk. “I have someone coming to see me shortly.” “I’ll wait to hear from you.” She didn’t say goodbye. I’d pushed too hard, but somehow the message had to get through to her that what she’d been doing was flat out wrong. Unfortunately, a son wasn’t the right person to ever tell a mother they were wrong about anything. At least, this son with this mother. I called Shardul as I walked to where I’d left my vehicle. “Want to hear the latest wrinkle? There are two bracelets in this mess. Shrimati Narl received hers before my

mother did.” “One’s a fake. Has to be.” “I know. So who can I ask to verify which Shrimati Narl was wearing?” “My aunt will know someone. I’ll send you their name.” “Thank you.” I’d be screwed without Shardul’s help, and yet he’d said from the start he didn’t want to be involved. Was taking Veringe down enough to change his mind, even if my mother got off the hook as a side effect? Or maybe he was like me and couldn’t stand a bad job being done when he had the power to fix it. I’d known the guy over a year and there was so much I didn’t know about him. Sure would like the chance to find out though. I hadn’t even reached my auto when my mother called me. “Harinakshi Narl has agreed to let you talk to her tomorrow at eleven, here, on the understanding that you arrive separately from her and so does this ‘expert’.” “Uh, I don’t even know if I can line someone up that fast, Mum.” “I’m not rearranging this, Javen. Have your person ready, or do without.” Aren’t I doing you the favour, Mother dear? I shook my head. The derda wass indeed. I messaged Shardul to let him know what Mum had decreed, not much caring if he called back and told me he couldn’t arrange an expert in so little time. I wished I was back in the hills with my grandfather and his lovely little garden. Life was sweet and simple with him, and dealing with my parents was neither. I had work to do, clients to chase up, but it was a beautiful if chilly day, and I just did not feel like dealing with other people’s stuff. So I drove out to the riverside park, and went for a walk. At this time of day, the park belonged to young mothers and the occasional father, out walking their babies and toddlers. As many Nihan as Kelon, keeping to themselves, but sharing the same paths, doing the same thing, because under the physical differences, they were all the same. People, with the same dreams and hopes and worries, some with more, some with less. A picture of how the world should be, if we could get past race. But as I walked, the cop in me, the trained observer, noticed hair colour and eyes weren’t the only difference. The indigenous mothers were all neatly, almost too neatly dressed for casual outings, and none of their odd traditional strollers was even slightly dingy or dirty. Like they knew they would be watched, and judged, and any fault held against their whole people. They walked with more care, more wariness, and ducked their heads as they passed a chuma, as if they didn’t think they had the right to look one of our

people in the eye. Which was such shit. Why should someone like Jyoti have to hide her pride in her identity, her calm fearlessness, just because a Kelon woman’s gaze met hers? Why would someone like Shardul ever need to worry about being judged? Yet they both did, and if they did, how much more for these women here, and the children who would never, unless things changed, have a fair chance to compete against richer, more privileged offspring? Great. I’d come out to get away from things and here I was getting all worked up about injustices that had started long before I was born, and would be around long after I was ashes. I’d be better off back in the office snarling at potential customers and pissing them off. My phone went. “Yeah?” “Is it me or do you always answer the phone like that lately?” “Kirin, I’m sorry. I’m in a fucking foul mood.” “Oh. Then I suppose it’s the wrong time to suggest since it’s such a lovely day, that we could eat lunch together in the sun.” “You know what? That’s a brilliant idea. Are you free now?” “But it’s not eleven yet.” “Oh. Okay, forget—” “No, I’ll come. I’ll bring samsa and unni appam and chai, and coax you into telling me why you are biting the heads off innocent phone callers. Where are you?” I told him, and he said he’d be there soon. And I didn’t feel the slightest anxiety about it at all. I had no idea why, but I could think of Kirin now just as a friend. A good friend, and today, someone I really wanted to see. I walked back to the car park, and he pulled up a couple of minutes later, leaping out of his vehicle, bearing bags of food and a rug to sit on. “This is exactly where I wanted to come today, and exactly the company,” he said, giving me one of his bright, winning smiles. “You might change your mind about that. I wasn’t joking about the mood.” “No, I can see that. Let’s find a warm place to sit and you can tell me all about it.” We found our spot in a pretty tree-ringed clearing, where parents were setting out rugs and baskets for their children’s lunches. “Haven’t done this in an age. Not since....” “Not since us,” I finished. “No. Nice to be with a friend.”

“Yeah,” I said, and meant it. He poured us chai from a flask, and handed over one of the little sweet cakes he knew I liked. “Is it all that silliness in the press that’s making you cranky?” “No, not really. It’s annoying, but that’s not the problem.” He stretched out on the rug and picked at the food while I complained about Mum, the second bracelet, her snottiness, the general greediness of Kelons, and the unfairness that meant I couldn’t persuade Shardul to sleep with me. Actually, the last one just popped out without me thinking about it, and it was only when I looked down, saw Kirin’s wide smile and crinkling eyes, that I realised I said more than I should have. “Uh...maybe you should forget about what I just said.” “Come off it, Javen. I saw you two at the ball. You were devouring him with your eyes, and he was just as bad.” “He was acting.” “Uh huh. You weren’t.” “No. He knows how I feel but he won’t sleep with a Kelon and that’s that. I don’t blame him. The things he fights against every day, are things you and I don’t ever have to think about. I even had to bully the taxi driver into taking him and Jyoti to the ball, would you believe?” “I wish I could say I was shocked. He doesn’t like me, I know. But I can’t blame him for that either because he must look at me and think how easy I’ve had it, compared to him. Take Jyoti—the girl’s incredibly intelligent, but she couldn’t get a scholarship to University, so ended up doing a short qualification instead of the degree she should have done. Now she’ll work as a lab tech instead of the researcher she could be and damn well should be. It’s a wonder people like Jyoti and Shardul don’t stab us when they see us, just on general principles.” I’d never heard Kirin speak so passionately about the racial situation before. “You’ve been doing your homework.” “Yes. Because of Jyoti, and...uh, because of you. I wanted to understand why you felt so drawn to work with these people. Now I think I do. I know there’s a lot I don’t understand. If Shardul doesn’t like me, it’s because of that, not a flaw in him.” “Nice of you to be so understanding.” “I admire him. He’s been good for you. The work with the Institute has...taken away the bitter edge.”

“Not all of it.” “No, but the edge I put there, and losing your job did.” A year ago, we couldn’t have had this conversation without me walking away. But we could now, finally. “One door closes, another opens.” “Sounds a little religious to me, Javen.” I laughed a little. “It’s hanging around all these devout udawathei that does it.” “When you’re talking to them though, they’re not painful about it. Vik and I talked a lot about his background, and he mentioned his religion a few times, but I didn’t find too cringe-making. Not like Janki-ji at Uni. Remember him?” “Ugh. Been trying to forget all these years.” Our one and only Reformed Deist lecturer had been just a little crazy. Brilliant mathematician, but weird. Any number of times he would stop talking during a lecture, tell us to work on a problem and then stand stock still, eyes closed. No amount of playing up would distract him. Apparently his religion demanded prayers at certain times of the day and it didn’t matter if he was in the middle of teaching or not. I was a little surprised the University put up with it, but he was a genius. “You and Vik talked a lot then?” “On and off. While we were dancing. He’s a wonderful dancer.” A little smile had crept onto his face, and the warmth I felt emanated from him, not my own stony heart. “Kirin, you weren’t a little smitten, were you?” “Me? No. Well, a little. He’s very beautiful, even if I feel like a dirty old man thinking it. He’d never be interested in someone my age.” “He’s twenty, and more mature than you think. He’s quite capable of playing a callow youth when it suits him, but he’s not.” “Matchmaking, Javen?” “I don’t need to. I’m sure you exchanged numbers.” He flushed. “Um, yes but only because we were on the case together. Stop it, you bastard.” He flicked a crumb at my smirk. “He’s thirteen years younger than me. That’s a lifetime at twenty.” “So wait until he’s twenty-five. You can have fun together without turning it into a lifelong commitment. Have you even had a date since the little bitch flounced off?” “Not anything worthy of the name. The ball was the most fun I’ve had in months.” “Then if you want to take Vik dancing, or out for a meal, do it. But be careful of him, Kirin. If things get messy, he’s the one who’ll pay the price, not you.”

“Yes. One more reason to put it back in my pants and look for someone my own age.” “You tried that already. Try something new.” “I will if you will.” “I don’t want to date my assistant.” “No, I meant Shardul.” “Shardul is off limits. Trust me on this. I’d have more chance sleeping with Jyoti than him.” “Maybe. Hard to imagine someone who can dance with such passion being able to turn off desire because of principles.” “He doesn’t desire me. How many times do I have to say that?” He grinned. “Until you convince me, of course. More chai?” This could get to be a habit, lazing in the sun with a friend, eating treats and gossiping. Even though there had been a long period where I was either unemployed, or underemployed, I hadn’t actually enjoyed not having enough to do. I hadn’t been able to relax. I hadn’t gone on picnics, or taken myself off to the beach or the mountains. I’d just sat around fretting about how I would spend the rest of my life. I’d been an idiot. One of the teachings of the udawathei’s Seeker was that his people should put as much energy into enjoyment as they did into working. Of all the things Roshni-ji had explained to me of her religion, that one had struck me as the most sensible. “We should do this more often, you and me.” “Yes,” Kirin said. “Now you can do it without flinching. Yes, I know that’s my fault. I’m glad you’ve moved past it. Allows me to feel less guilty.” “How would you feel if Vik was empathic?” His eyes widened. “Is he? It didn’t occur to me to ask.” “He’s not. But...you don’t seem too bothered.” “I’m not in a relationship with him.” “It would make a difference.” Kirin looked up. “Yes. It would. I can’t lie. Can’t you understand how hard it would be? Knowing your lover could tell every mood, with no chance of concealing transitory emotions? That flash of anger over something trivial, could end up causing the biggest argument. A bad day at work that you don’t want to share because talking about it makes it worse, might mean your partner feels excluded. We depend on being able to hide sometimes, Javen. At least I do.”

“I don’t go around telling people what they feel, or how others do.” “You’re not living with someone right now. Not a lover. Are we going to fight over this? I was enjoying it so much.” “No, not going to fight. Just trying to understand. I scare you.” “‘Scared’, not ‘scare’. I’m not proud of it. It made me realise I wasn’t half the man I thought I was, and accepting that shame has taken me some time.” “I don’t know how I’d react if the situations were reversed. I’d never faced it before.” “Nor I. I failed the first test our relationship faced. I now know I have a lot of work to do if I’m ever in another one.” A handsome admission, and one I couldn’t fault. “Me too. I wasn’t exactly adult about things.” “You did nothing wrong. You don’t need to share the blame.” No, I didn’t. But I could let Kirin feel less guilt without it making me guilty. “At least now I know you won’t be dating any empaths, not just avoiding me.” I stretched. “Oh, I want to stay here all day, but I have work to do.” “Me too, sadly. But we’ll do it again, yes?” “Yes. I feel less murderous and that has to be a good thing.” We cleared up and took everything back to his auto. “Thanks for coming.” He grinned. “Thanks for having me.” He kissed my cheek. “Don’t give up on you know who.” “Yeah yeah. I’ll tell Vik to expect your call.” “You do and I’ll let your tyres down. See you soon.” I still didn’t feel like working, but at least I would probably manage not to alienate any new clients when I called them. I climbed into my auto and had my finger on the power button when my phone went. “Shardul, hello. You got my message.” “Of course. I’ve arranged one of our people to attend the meeting.” “Great. Sorry about the short notice.” “I expect no better from your mother, I’m afraid. I’ll be there too, to give our expert legal protection.” “Mum won’t like that at all.” “Do you think I care?”

“No. Perhaps you and I should arrive first.” “Certainly. I can ask your father for your hand in marriage while I’m there.” I groaned. “You don’t give up, do you?” “I haven’t begun to plumb the depths of the comedic potential of the situation, Javen. Besides, you’re the one inviting me to your parents’ house. In my culture, that’s a sign of intent.” “Shardul, please, I’m having a really bad day.” “Poor little chuma. I’ll come separately, with my expert. You arrive first, at fifteen minutes to. I will arrive at five to.” “Not many indigenous visit the residence. People will talk.” “I hope so. I’ll see you tomorrow.” This fucking case was taking up too much of my time, and Shardul’s. If it didn’t end with Veringe’s nasty little trade stopped, my bad mood might become permanent. It probably would, at least in Hegal. Between my mother and Harinakshi Narl, the word would get out pretty quickly among that crowd to avoid Timin Veringe. I might not even have to do more than I had. But I couldn’t help my nature. I had to know what happened to that bracelet. Madan was back in the office when I got there, though the youngsters were out researching. “Must have been some meeting,” he said. “Nope. I was playing hooky and proud of it. Soaking up the sun and eating sweets.” “And a fine example that sets the kids,” he grumbled. I made a vulgar gesture and he grinned. “I called a couple of people. No names of associates but the word is that Timin Veringe is an occasional customer for untaxed and unlicensed pharmaceuticals. Not in huge quantities, so it could be for personal consumption.” “Or a favour to a customer or two. Still, not enough to hang him.” “No. Either he’s got other sources, or it’s not something he’s into here. Did you ever check out that purchaser? That could be your line in on what he’s up to.” “Dad did as soon as Mum told him what had happened. I should check for myself though.” I had no access to real-time Kelon police records, but the Medele national database was updated monthly, the last time being yesterday. I plugged in the purchaser’s name, Raj Kedl, and got nothing. “He’s clean,” I told Madan.

“Associates? Business partners?” I did a search for what companies he was involved in. There were several, all in partnership with one Ujesh Geng. I typed Geng’s name into the database—and sat back in amazement. “His business partner’s got form. Fraud, handling stolen goods, and passing off.” “What’s the chance someone like that is involved in some high-powered trade deal?” “Not a lot.” I checked my notes and searched for the other company allegedly involved in the deal, the one supposedly withdrawing from the deal because of the missing bracelet. It existed all right—but the principals of the company were Geng himself and another person who also had a criminal record. I cross-referenced Geng and Veringe. No known association. I bit my lip. They must know each other. I called up Prachi’s report on Veringe. The guy had siblings and living parents. I tried them against Geng. “Got it. Veringe’s sister is married to Geng’s brother. Neither of them have criminal records, but Geng and Veringe definitely know each other, and it follows that Kedl does too.” “Not a crime in itself, but why did Geng and Kedl go through your mother to buy an artefact Geng’s brother-in-law could have provided directly?” “That, my friend, is what I need an answer for.” “And how exactly did your mother hook up with Kedl?” “He apparently met someone she’d sold some jewellery to. What’s the bet that Veringe told Kedl or Geng to find out who her purchasers were on Kelon and make contact with them?” “I’d take that wager. I don’t believe in coincidences.” “Neither do I,” I said. I sent a summary of what I’d found to Shardul. I still had nothing strong enough to haul the catch into the net, but the net was drawing in. A lot depended on how good Shardul’s expert turned out to be. I took advantage of my mother’s enforced timetable and Shardul’s suggestion about the staggered arrival, to ask to meet both my parents before Shrimati Narl arrived. I told them about Geng, and what I had learned about Veringe. “At this point, you can assume Kedl won’t sue,” I said. “The question is, what do you want to do about Veringe if I can categorically tie him to the theft?” My mother’s hands fluttered in distress. “That dreadful man. I can’t believe I did

business with him, or with that Kedl person.” “Well you did. If you don’t shut Veringe down, he’ll keep trading in artefacts and duping other customers.” “That’s their concern, not ours,” my father said. “What you’ve told us makes it even more important that no word of this gets out.” “But Mum, won’t you tell your friends? Won’t Shrimati Narl?” “Harinakshi won’t tell anyone, Javen. She doesn’t want her husband to know about this. And I’m not telling a soul.” “Then Veringe will go on trading, and cheating people.” “He won’t cheat me, and that’s all I care about. In fact, I should cancel this meeting with Harinakshi. There’s no point.” I glared. “Mum, I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to accommodate you over this, and so has my friend. The very least you owe me is let me find out if Shrimati Narl has the real bracelet or not.” Her lips pinched pale in disapproval. “As you wish. But after that, it’s over. I don’t want any more to do with it.” “Dad, don’t you want to know how someone got into the residence?” He grimaced in disgust. “He has a point there, Lochana. That’s a bigger issue.” “Do as you like, but don’t involve me.” Her phone chimed quietly and she checked it. “Harinakshi’s here. I have to meet her. Come to my office with your friend and remember your manners, Javen. I nearly snapped back that she should mind hers, but there was no point. “Then excuse me,” I said, hanging onto my temper with my fingernails. “My friend will be here shortly.” I waited in the lobby, glaring at anyone who looked my way. When Shardul and an older woman walked in, he did a double-take as I walked towards him. “I might not be matos but I think I sense intense anger.” “You’d be dead right.” I bowed to his companion, earning some looks from the clerks and guards in the lobby. “Javen Ythen, Shrimati...?” “Abha, Sri Ythen.” Unusual for a Nihani woman not to give her full name when introduced, but she radiated nervousness, and some fear. I smiled to reassure her. “Thank you very much for coming, Abha-ji. I apologise for the short notice. We can go on through to my mother’s office.”

I didn’t know Harinakshi Narl, though her face was vaguely familiar to me. Right now, she was irritated and impatient, and the arrival of not one but two Nihan to talk to her, didn’t help. “You didn’t tell me Sri...um...was coming.” My mother had a near photographic memory for names and she’d been told Shardul’s several times. “Shardul-ji is here to help Shrimati Abha, Mother. Shrimati Abha, this is Shrimati Narl, and my mother, Shrimati Ythen.” Abha-ji bobbed her head quickly. Shardul guided her to a chair, and stood behind it, emanating protectiveness and slight menace. My mother scowled at him. “Shrimati Narl, could we see the bracelet?” She produced a box from her purse, but clung to it possessively. “I won’t surrender it. My husband paid for it legally, and he’d be furious if I lost one of his gifts.” “I understand. There’s no question of you having to give it back.” Shardul made a quiet rude noise, but I ignored him. I held out my hand and she handed it over, glaring as if she thought I would somehow spirit it away. I gave the box to Abha-ji, who produced a loupe and, taking the bracelet out, examined it closely. While she worked, I wanted to ask about the purchase. “Did your husband tell you where he’d got the item, Shrimati Narl, and who the creator was?” “He didn’t tell me anything about it except that it was a very rare and valuable piece. If it’s a fake, I won’t dare tell him.” “That’s up to you, Shrimati Narl. I’m only interested in going after the person who robbed my mother.” My mother gave me a warning look. “Allegedly robbed, Javen. After all, we don’t want to slander anyone.” I felt Shardul’s surprise and hoped he’d have enough sense to follow my cue. “Of course not, Mother. I’m sure this whole business is just an awkward misunderstanding.” Please don’t say anything, Shardul. To my relief, he didn’t, though his glare became positively life-threatening. “It’s genuine,” Abha-ji said, turning to look at Shardul. “I would stake my reputation on it. It has Jasraj-ji’s mark in both places. The gems and wiring are the correct age too.” She stroked the bracelet. “Such a shame we’ve lost it.” “Give it to me,” Shrimati Narl snapped, snatching the box and bracelet back from Abha-ji’s hands. “We bought it legally. No one forced your people to sell.”

Shardul put a comforting hand on the cringing Abha-ji’s shoulder. “Of course not,” he said politely. “Abha-ji speaks only as someone who appreciates the craft of our ancestors.” Shrimati Narl ignored him as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “Lochana, are you done?” “Yes, Harinakshi. I’m so sorry you’ve been inconvenienced.” “I expect to hear no more about this.” “I give you my word. Thank you for coming. I appreciate it, and so does Rajan.” Barely mollified by the hint that she’d won a favour from the governor, Shrimati Narl sniffed and stalked out. My mother turned to Abha-ji. “How dare you say something like that to her?” “Shrimati Ythen, you’re overreacting,” Shardul said. “May I remind you that Abha-ji is doing you a favour here, and you are being very, very rude.” Her mouth and eyes narrowed in anger, but before she could spit back an insult, I stood and took Abha-ji’s hand. “We’re finished. I’ll continue my investigations into the security breach as Dad wants. Good day.” I dragged everyone out before it got really messy. Well, messier. “I didn’t mean to offend,” Abha-ji said, her voice trembling as much as she was. Shardul spoke to her in Nihani, and patted her arm. “I’m explaining she did nothing wrong at all and that your mother is just a rude woman.” “Yes, she is,” I said. “My apologies for your treatment. That was inexcusable, and you’ve done me a personal favour I won’t forget. I pay my debts too.” “I don’t want anything,” she whispered. “But that bracelet belongs to us.” “I know, Abha,” Shardul said. “At least it’s still here, so we can try to buy it back. Let me take you home. Javen, pick me up from my office. I need to talk to you.” I gave him ten minutes, and headed off. He’d want to chew me out and I couldn’t blame him. My mother had behaved so badly, I was ashamed to be her son. I’d never felt like that before, and I didn’t like the feeling at all. Shardul said nothing as he got into my auto, except to say, “Drive somewhere we can talk in private.” So I took him to the riverside park, on the basis that we may as well be somewhere warm and pretty while talking about unpleasant matters. I parked up. “Let’s walk,” he said. We walked a little way in silence. He was clearly waiting for me to start, so I said, “My mother behaved inexcusably. I am sorry for the offence to both of you, and I meant what I said about the favour.”

“I know, and I told her that. It’s appreciated. What was all that about slander?” I blew out my cheeks. “My fucking parents have decided that not only will they not attempt to have Veringe prosecuted, they won’t even put the word out about him. Harinakshi Narl doesn’t know who sold her husband that bracelet. So Timin Veringe will go gaily on, ripping off our people and stealing from yours, to keep my parents’ precious reputation safe.” “By the Spirit, they can’t—” “They can, but I don’t intend to give up that easily. Dad’s given me permission to chase down the theft from the residence.” “And then?” “And then...I don’t know. But I won’t let them sweep this under the rug. I promise you that. I think the time’s come to confront Sri Veringe about a few things.” “Wait. I have some information.” He removed a note from his wallet. “Here. Two known associates. Both our people, unfortunately, but we have criminals among us as do you.” I read the names. “Ved Hamsa Oorjit and Tilak Jyoti Sudhir. One of the guards I couldn’t interview, the one with the broken foot, is Vasu Sudhir. But he’s Kelon. They all are.” “Or passing. Check your national database.” I had the answer in seconds. “Half-brothers. Vasu uses his father’s name as a surname. So that’s our connection. How sure are you that Tilak works for Veringe?” “Very, but I can’t tell you how.” “I understand. I owe you for this.” “You certainly do. Are you going to speak to him? I have an address.” “Sure. You want to come, don’t you?” He smiled. “In case he suddenly forgets he speaks Kelon. It’s a common tactic.” I tended to forget that Shardul knew nearly as much about bad guys as I did. “Let’s go then. But you stay the hell out of my way, and out of the path of danger.” “Of course. I am much more valuable than you.” “This is true.” Locating Tilak meant going to a run-down neighbourhood with rows of houses that had seen better days, and kids and teenagers hanging around in the street, staring suspiciously at the Kelon and his flashy vehicle. “Unemployment here is over forty percent,” Shardul said

as we drove along the narrow street. “Hegal simply doesn’t offer enough work for unskilled youth. Unskilled chuma are sent back to Kelon by their parents to work there, gain some experience, and then return with employable skills. Not an option for our people, obviously. There. That shop. I’ve been told he and Ved are often to be found there.” I didn’t like this. It was one thing to come to a place like this in uniform with an armed comrade at my side and the entire Hegal police force to call upon, but Shardul didn’t carry a weapon, and if we ran into trouble.... “Maybe you should stay with the auto,” I said. “Scared, Ythen?” “Cautious, you stupid bastard. What if they’re carrying?” “Almost certainly are. You think this is the first time I’ve walked into a place like this? Usually I’m alone.” “Yeah, and that might be the important factor.” He rolled his eyes. “Then you stay with the vehicle, and I’ll talk to him.” “No way.” “Then get off your chuma arse and come inside.” The shop was disused, and the house above unloved. It stood at the end of the row, which made it ideal for youths wanting a meeting place that didn’t involve walking past other people’s apartments. “The access from the rest of the houses is probably blocked,” Shardul murmured, as if he’d read my mind. “I believe drugs are involved.” “Great. As if these kids don’t have enough problems.” “Yes. Let me go in first. Stay behind and be ready for anything.” “I’ve got the gun.” “I’ve got the braids. Do as I say, Javen.” He probably had a point, but I still didn’t like it. I put my hand in my pocket, over my gun, and followed him in. “Tilak, tuo!” he called. A youth turned, saw me, and bolted. I ran to the obvious exit and caught him easily, holding him firmly by his collar and belt. “Calm down, beto, I just want to talk.” He muttered something in Nihani. “I know you speak Kelon, Tilak. You can talk to me or you can talk to the cops.” The other kids had melted away, leaving us alone. Shardul walked over and spoke to him. Tilak spat on the ground, shaking his head. Shardul spoke again, more sharply.

“What are you saying?” I asked. “I’m telling him that breaking into the governor’s residence is a crime which could see him sent away for ten years, but we want the person who ordered it, not him. He says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.” I shook Tilak. “Then let me remind you. A bracelet? Locked office? Being let in by Vasu?” He jerked at his brother’s name. “Yeah, you understand me. Knock off the act, Tilak. We don’t want you, we want your boss.” “I’m not saying nothin’.” “Look who speaks Kelon after all,” I said to Shardul. “Why? Scared of Timin?” “Who’s Timin?” “The man who paid your bail when you were arrested three months ago for street theft,” Shardul said. “And the man you do various little favours for, from time to time, with Ved. Where is Ved, anyway?” “Don’t know who you’re talking about?” I threw him to the ground and stood over him. “Stop wasting our time, beto. I’m serious—talk to me, or talk to the police. Who will talk to Vasu and who will work out he let you into the residence, and then your brother will lose his job and you’ll go to prison. I’m matos, you little idiot. As soon as I talk to him, I’ll know if he’s lying or not.” “Can’t use it in court.” “Give me a break. You think the cops need me to prove a case? Who paid you to steal from that office? I just want the name.” I surreptitiously turned on my reader’s recorder. “You already know it.” “Timin Veringe paid you to break into the governor’s residence and steal a bracelet from a locked office. Is that true, Tilak?” “Yeah,” he said, sneering sulkily. “But I won’t split on my brother.” “If you have to, will you split on Veringe?” “No. You don’t understand. The guy’s scary. He’ll off me.” “No, he won’t. Tell me how your brother got you into the residence. Don’t hide anything or lie to me, or I’m calling the police right now.” He wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve. Unusually for a Nihan, he wore a long-sleeved jacket, as if he felt cold the way newcomers from Kelon did. Larin had that effect on longterm users. “I got into the grounds during the day and hid. Vasu already gave me the key card. He made a duplicate. Then he let me in on his rounds. That other guard, Hemandra,

was in on it too. He knew where the thing was, from the video. You take my brother, I’ll take that Kelon down with him.” “Settle down,” I said. “I just wanted to know how it was done. How much did Veringe pay you?” “Five hundred. I gave Vasu three hundred and I think he split it with that arsehole. Why do you need all this?” “Call it insatiable curiosity. Okay, that’s it.” He scrabbled to his feet and took off. Neither of us tried to stop him. I pulled out my reader. “Got it all here.” I switched off the recording. “You can’t tell your father how it was done without implicating the brothers and this other guard,” Shardul said. “Damn, you’re right. But leaving a dirty guard on duty—” “I’ll take care of Vasu. You speak to this Hemandra. And you’ll have to drop a hint to the security chief to tighten up on the creation of duplicate key cards. But no more than that, Javen. He told us in good faith.” “I guess. But we have enough to catch Veringe now.” “You can’t confront him without endangering those boys. He’ll deny everything. I know the type.” “Yeah. My only question is why?” Shardul walked back out to the auto, and I followed. “Because it’s classic con artist behaviour. You establish your bona fides by engaging in legitimate, small deals, so your mark is lulled into a false sense of security. Then you set up a larger deal, and take them for all you can. He played your mother like a fool, but he was greedy and couldn’t resist selling the real bracelet as well as the fake. That’s why he showed it to your mother the wrong way around. He wanted to minimise the risk of her recognising it on her friend. He’ll have chosen your mother precisely because of her position and the need for discretion. He didn’t count on your parents having a private investigator in the family.” “But why retrieve the fake at all, if Geng’s in on it?” “The important thing was that Geng and his partner had to be able to prove the parcel was empty on arrival. They’d get the purchase price back and a fat settlement to shut their mouths if they’re lucky, while Veringe pockets the entire amount your mother paid. He can sell the fake bracelet over and over if he’s careful, and doesn’t try it in Hegal again. He must have been working on this for a while. I imagine he’s got others in that circle in his

sights.” “And my stupid mother will just let them be taken, which is all they deserve, but it means Veringe enriches himself at their expense and your people’s.” “We have to stop him.” “Yeah, but unless my mother brings a complaint, the police won’t do a damn thing. All I have is the evidence of a druggy banis kid, and a lot of circumstantial stuff.” “You have to convince your mother to act.” “Uh, Shardul, I couldn’t even make her be nice to a little old lady doing us all a huge favour.” He bashed the roof of the auto with his clenched fist and said something obviously rude in Nihani. “Mind the metal,” I said. “We know he’s a thief, a fraudster, and yet we can’t stop him. What kind of justice is this?” “You could do better in your culture?” “A man like that would be driven away as unfit to participate in the community.” I grinned at him. “Now that’s an idea.” “What?” “Leave it to me. Back to your office?” “Javen?” “Trust me, Shardul.” “You say that a lot.” “And I’m still trustworthy, right?” He growled. “You are a very, very irritating person, even for a chuma.” “I know. I do try.” ~~~~~~~~ I let my parents stew for a couple of days, though I paid Hemandra a visit and extracted a recorded confession from him. I gave the question of how to handle the whole burglary and security thing a lot of thought. I didn’t want to give my father even more reason not to hire indigenous staff, but at the same time, Hemandra and Vasu were guarding an important facility and important people. The fact I was related to the governor didn’t mean his safety wasn’t something of national interest. When I was ready, I arranged a meeting with both my parents, saying I wanted to

report on the break-in. My mother sent a message in reply to my first asking why she needed to be present, and I told her I wanted her there. I could wait, I said, until she was free. She sent me a date and time and no love in her next message. I was officially in the shit with them. Nonetheless, I dressed carefully, prepared a full report as I would for any other client, and made sure I was a few minutes early for the appointment. They still kept me waiting for a quarter of an hour past the agreed time. The politeness of princes didn’t apply to family, apparently. They met me in my father’s office, my mother’s expression chilly, and my father’s hostile. “Well, Javen?” he barked. “What was so important that you had to take up both our time?” “I wanted to present you with my report, and my bill.” “Your bill? I assumed you were doing this out of love,” Mum said. “I might be but my employees aren’t, and I have them to support and an office. I’ve charged slightly less than I would anyone else.” “How kind,” my father said, taking the papers with a look of distaste. “You’ve solved the break-in?” “Yes.” “So how was it done?” “I can’t tell you because I received the information on a confidential basis. However, I’ve spoken to Lieutenant Damen and given him what he needs to tighten up security here, without revealing names.” “That’s outrageous, Javen! I demand you tell me who was behind this.” “Only if you prosecute Timin Veringe, and only on the basis that the witnesses receive immunity.” “I can’t agree to that,” he said as my mother glared. “I explained why.” “Then we’re at an impasse. While Veringe’s on the loose, he’s a security threat. So what I propose is this. You revoke his visa and send him back to Kelon.” “I could do that, I think,” he said, looking at Mum. “Yes, a good idea. Thank y—” “I’m not finished. You’re also going to suppress any appeal from this region against the result of the current cases in the High Court concerning indigenous discrimination.” “Now, wait a—” “And finally, you’re going to throw your full and enthusiastic support behind

Representative Gopan’s emergency bill requiring export licenses for all indigenous artefacts, with control and issuing of those licenses to be handed over to the Nihan themselves.” He folded his arms. “Now why would I do that, Javen?” “Because if you don’t, a copy of that report I just gave you will find its way into every media outlet in Medele. I will, of course, be free to be interviewed and be able to verify its contents.” My mother’s face paled. “You’re blackmailing us?” “Yes. Once upon a time, Mum, I could have trusted you to do the right thing. But I don’t know the two of you any more. I don’t know what you believe in, or what principles you uphold. So I have to act on mine, and they tell me that Dad’s in a position to rectify a huge injustice.” “You wouldn’t do this,” Dad sneered. “You’d ruin yourself too.” “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m deadly serious, and I warn you not to try and bluff your way out. I’m well past the age when you can intimidate me, and I really don’t have a damn thing to lose.” “Only us,” Mum said, her hand over her heart. I’d hurt her and I regretted that, but I’d taken that risk deliberately. “Yes. But that’s up to you.” I stood. “I shouldn’t have to force you to do this, Dad. One day, I hope you’ll understand why I did.” “I think you should leave, Javen.” “Then good day, Governor, Mother.” I walked out, my knees shaking, half expecting a guard to tell me to stop so I could be arrested for treason. I had just committed a serious offence by anyone’s standards. But no one shouted at me or stopped me, and I reached the auto unharmed. I got inside, and picked up my phone. “Shardul? Can you do lunch today?” “Javen, this is a bad time.” “Please?” A pause. “Let me rearrange a couple of things. Pick me up at one. I can’t get free before then.” “Thank you.” My hands trembled. I shoved them between my legs to still them. Had I just cut myself off from my parents for good? Yashi would stand by me. He always did. But supporting me

would make things tough for him and his little family. Was making a point about the indigenous people of this country really worth that? Too late now. I drove to the riverside park and spent an hour sending messages to various people about various things, and tried not to think about what I’d just done. Shardul was outside his office by the time I arrived. “You look terrible,” he said as I got out of the auto. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing. Not for you, anyway. I just needed to know I don’t suck.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you came to me for affirmation? You are in a bad way.” “Shut up and let’s eat.” At his cousin’s establishment, I let him order as usual, then he folded his arms. “You want to tell me?” “I just blackmailed my father into supporting Gopan’s bill and not opposing the indigenous court case result. Oh, and Timin Veringe will be kicked back to Kelon.” Shardul blinked. “You....blackmailed your own father.” “Yes. I threatened to release my report into this case to the media if he refused. So, do I suck?” “I’m lost for words.” “Okay.” I sipped some water. Somehow I expected to feel better than this. “I was trying to make amends.” “I thought you were. This is why I helped you. I wanted to see what you would do.” “You were testing me. I thought you trusted me.” “I do...as much as I do any Kelon. More than most,” he added. “But I didn’t expect this. Won’t this destroy your relationship with them?” “Hope not, but probably yes.” I picked up my glass again but my hand shook and I spilled some water. Shardul took the glass from me and set it down. “I never expected you to do this. Would never have asked it.” “I know. I did it because it needed doing, not because of anything you pressured me to do.” He smiled a little. “Damn, and I was really hoping to go to the Governor’s Ball next year.” “I think it’s safe to say I won’t get an invitation again.”

“But you owe me a dance, Javen.” “Sorry.” “Can’t eat your sorrow.” “What the hell do you want me to do?” The man at the next table frowned at me. I must have spoken too loudly. “I’ll think of something.” Shardul touched my hand. “Relax. I’m pleased. Shocked, but pleased. You’ve made a difference. More of a difference than I could have ever dreamed of.” “So long as it’s worth it.” “It is for me, for my people. You’ve paid a heavy price, though.” I shrugged. “What kind of relationship is based on bigotry and denial?” “A damaged and dangerous one. I will pray that the Spirit moves them to understand why you needed to do this.” “I told them straight, but they think you’ve turned me to the dark side.” His lips twitched. “Well, I’m extremely good at perverting good Kelon boys, as you know.” “Yeah, but you don’t follow through,” I said, attempting a leer. “Not today, Javen.” The waiter set our food before us. “Does that imply you might another day?” I asked. “The interpretation can be whatever you want.” But he smiled, and I smiled back, this time for real. I might have lost my parents’ goodwill, at least for a while, but I still had a family, and friends, and Shardul, in the limited way he granted me his company. A man could count himself lucky to have even one of those three. I knew myself to be more than lucky.

Javen and the Pretty Boy “Sainted reason, I knew there was a reason I don’t like crowds and concerts.” I poked my finger in my ear, though the problem was in my brain and empathy, not the roar of noise from hundreds of excited people, many of them women and all apparently determined to talk at once. “You get used to it,” Jyoti said. “Try and focus on one of us. Try Shardul. He’s always calming.” Her smirk and Chandana’s chuckle made her a liar. Shardul wrinkled his nose in disgust at the exact time I did, which only made the girls laugh more. “You talked me into this,” I said to him. “You agreed, so stop whining. Besides, you should be honoured to have tickets for such an event. They’ve been sold out for three weeks.” “Thanks, I’d almost forgotten since the last time you pointed that out oh, ten minutes ago? You’re a fan boy.” “I am not,” he said, straightening up and glaring. “I’m certainly no boy.” Jyoti glanced at his crotch, and Chandana went off into peals of giggles. Shardul shared a look with me as if to say “Women.” “This better be damn good, that’s all I can say,” I said, wiggling the finger in my ear. The press of emotions, albeit happy and untroubled, was the worst I’d yet experienced since my empathy kicked in. I wasn’t one for concerts or music in concentrated doses, and I hadn’t been to the theatre in ages. I didn’t think I’d repeat this outing anytime soon even if the fabulous Tushar was everything he was claimed to be. I hadn’t even heard of Tushar before Jyoti turned up at my office waving free tickets and babbling excitedly about the new indigenous sensation who even had the chuma begging to hear him sing. Vik hadn’t been interested, but Prachi had wanted to go, begging me to go with her. I agreed reluctantly, only to have her come down with a nasty cold. That left me with a spare ticket to a concert I hadn’t even wanted to go to, so in the interest of spreading misery around, I offered my pair to Shardul. Unfortunately, Shardul was delighted to have them—but insisted I go as his companion, because he said I needed to experience more Nihani culture. So here I was, the po-faced Kelon with three overenthusiastic indigenous friends, trying to get through the evening without booze or mayhem. I didn’t even know why live concerts existed any more, since the sound was better on a home system and you could go to the toilet without having to ask twenty

strangers to let you out. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Shardul said. “Stop poking your ear. It’s vulgar and it doesn’t help.” “Who are you, my mother? He plays that thing, the tambura. Sounds like a dying kolija.” “It does not,” he said indignantly. “It’s a very ancient instrument with important historic connections and the use of it respects our traditions and our religion.” “If I wanted to hear atonal droning, I’d go to a Deist church. I don’t care how well he sings. If he plays that, it’s going to sound like a prolonged fart.” “Javen, didn’t you watch that vid?” Jyoti asked. “You know, ‘Dreams of Earth’?” “No. Should I?” “Everyone’s listening to it. It’s the song that made him big!” I felt old and cranky. “I’m not one for modern music. Just popular stuff.” “If it’s twenty years old. But that’s all right,” Shardul added sweetly, “I’m sure Tushar can move even someone with your stultified cultural appreciation. “ “Fan boy,” I mouthed at him, and he poked me in the thigh. The hall lights dimmed at this point. On the stage, a single spotlight appeared, and into the pool of light walked a slim, bare-chested young man, his arms adorned with bangles, and his ears with long glittering ornaments. The audience fell completely silent. The figure on stage stared out at us, looking around as if searching for a friend. Then he opened his mouth to sing. Two hours later, I and everyone else in the hall were on our feet applauding madly even though our hands were sore from repeated ovations. I’d never seen anything like it. The kid sang. He danced. He told jokes. He played the tambur and somehow made that doleful instrument sound seductive. He turned cartwheels while a troupe of dancers whirled around him. And all the while, the music rolled on and on, mostly catchy, sometimes sad and wistful, but all of it designed to tap into the emotional soul of the listener, and connect to them. Tushar did three encores, and finally pleaded with us to let him go. “Leave some for tomorrow!” he said, and the crowd roared with laughter as he skipped off behind the curtains. “Wasn’t he fabulous?” Chandana yelled over the whistles, foot stomping and applause seeking vainly to bring Tushar back on stage. She grabbed my and Jyoti’s hand. “Come

with me. He said we could go backstage and meet him after.” “Are you sure?” I thought Chandana’s cousin had probably only meant to be polite, since there must have been dozens of people who wanted to talk to the star of the show. But Jyoti and Shardul were already forcing their way through the crowd, and with Chandana still firmly gripping my hand, I could only follow them. To my surprise, the guards backstage expected Chandana, and ushered us like royalty through cramped corridors through to a larger area. Half-open doors showed musicians and some of the back-up dancers changing into street clothes. The guards led us to a closed door and knocked. “Sri Tushar? Your cousin is here.” The door swung open. “Chandana!” Tushar lunged for her and dragged her inside. “Darling, it’s been so long since I saw you.” They hugged and whispered in Nihani, while an amused Jyoti watched, and Shardul and I pretended to be very cool and relaxed in the presence of a half-naked and incredibly beautiful youth. Even sweaty and with half his makeup removed, Tushar still sparkled with energy and loveliness. Once he set Chandana free, she introduced us, and he insisted on hugging us all, though he seemed puzzled by my presence. “Are you one of our people, Sri Javen?” “No, just a friend. And a fan of yours now,” I said, while Shardul grinned. “Amazing show, simply wonderful.” He took my hand. “Why thank you, Javen. That means a lot coming from someone outside our community.” I smiled, but had to quickly hide my surprise at realising I couldn’t sense him. Was something wrong with my empathy? “You seem to have a lot of Kelon admirers, judging by the audience.” “Our first ever crossover success.” I turned to look at the newcomer, a tall, broad Kelon man radiating pride and possessiveness. He held out his hand. “Lalitchandra Ursemin, sir. I’m Tushar’s manager.” “Javen Ythen. Nice to meet you.” “Ythen? Like the governor?” “Yeah.” I willed Shardul not to explain. “How did you two connect?” “I stopped to have lunch in the town where he lived, and he was performing for the patrons at the restaurant.” “My parents own it,” Tushar explained, smiling winsomely at me. “Lalit said he thought a lot of people would love to hear me sing, so we recorded a song. And he was

right.” “I adore ‘Dreams of Earth’,” Jyoti said. “It makes me sad and happy and somehow...I don’t know, more me.” “Thank you, Jyoti.” Tushar gave her a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling with obvious delight. I still couldn’t feel a damn thing from him. Creepy. “How do you all know each other then?” “Uh...I met Javen through work.” “As did I,” Shardul said, throwing me in it, the bastard. “So what do you do, Javen?” “I’m a private investigator.” I could have kicked Shardul. I hated bringing my job up in social situations. “Really? Wow. Is that exciting? Where do you work? Do you have a gun?” I grinned. He was like a little kid, although with a body that could make an ascetic give up his vows. “Not exciting at all, but yes, I have a gun. Not now.” “Javen used to be a police officer,” Shardul offered. “Spirit save me. Really?” The smile dimmed as Tushar stepped back a little. Perhaps a bad experience with the force, I thought. “But he’s not like most Kelon police,” Shardul added. “After all, he’s here.” “True.” Tushar blessed me with that smile again. “You must be a very brave person, Javen.” “Oh, he is,” Shardul said. I turned around and glared at him to shut up. He smiled innocently. Bastard. “I’ve never met an investigator before. Are there many of you?” “In Hegal, yes. Mostly we work on divorces and insurance claims,” I said and when I heard the intake of breath from my lawyer friend, I made a rude gesture at him behind my back. “Here, have my card. Drop in if you like. I can tell you more. You want to talk to Chandana now, surely.” His manager took the card. “Tushar’s always happy to meet his fans and family.” “That’s right. So many people want to hear my music. I still have trouble believing it’s happening and it makes me so happy!” He spun around in a graceful movement, his arms twining over his head, while Chandana clapped in delight, and I admired the way the tight silk of his pants showed off the exquisite globes of his arse. “It makes us happy to see one of our own so successful.” Shardul moved forward and

gave a little bow. “Such a pleasure to see our traditions honoured.” “Tradition is what makes us. But I want my music to be heard by everyone. Is that wrong, Shardul?” “No.” Shardul smiled as he rarely did, sweet and openly. “A gift such as yours should be shared.” “Thank you.” Tushar took Shardul’s hands. “I’ve heard of you. Everyone’s heard of you. I’m so flattered you came to my concert. I wish I was smart enough to be a lawyer and help people but...I’m just a singer.” Shardul blushed. If only I could have taken a photo to prove he could. “No. Not ‘just’. A great talent.” “Agreed,” I said. “You’re as good a singer as Shardul is a lawyer. That’s saying something.” “Then that makes me happy too.” The kid’s smile could run the lights of a small town. Sri Ursemin coughed. “Tushar, you should probably let these good people go. You need to rest.” “Lalit, I don’t mind.” “No, he’s right,” Shardul said, taking my arm. “An honour to meet you, Tushar, and I wish you great success. We all do, yes?” “Absolutely,” I said. “I can’t see how you won’t be a hit.” The cool night air came as a shock after the overheated concert hall, but had no effect on my companions’ high spirits. “He’s lovely,” Jyoti said. “When’s his next concert?” “Sold out,” Chandana said. “But I can get tickets for another one, I think. Javen, would you like to go again?” “I’d love to but the crowd’s a bit much. My brother and his wife would adore it though, if you can get tickets.” “I will. And Shardul will come again.” She nudged him with her hip, and he made a face. “Bring your aunt.” “Perhaps. Thank you very much for this evening. A pleasure all round. I must say good night to you all now though.” Shardul’s place was close by, so we waved him off and walked to my auto. “Jyoti, did you notice something odd about Tushar?” “The lack of emotional resonance? Yes. I assume he’s a null.” “A what?”

“A null. I’ve never met one before but I’ve heard about them since I was a child. A null is someone an empath can’t sense. They’re very rare.” “Oh. I thought there was something wrong with me.” She grinned. “No, you’re fine. Shall we go now?” I’d have liked to have learned more, but it was late. I could always ask Shardul, or Roshni-ji. I suppose I hoped my empathy had been playing up, because that might have meant it could wear out—or off. No such luck. I dropped the two of them off at Jyoti’s house, and drove home. In the shower, I imagined what it would be like to have my hands on Tushar’s slimly muscled body, to cup that pretty arse, and to taste those finely shaped lips. I gripped my cock in a soapy hand, and thrust into the grip, as if it was Tushar’s tight body I was fucking, with his dancer’s muscles pulling me in. The water washed away my seed, and with it, the tantalising images. Lots of people would be jacking off to Tushar tonight, probably—men and women both. He wasn’t my type—more Kirin’s, really—but Tushar’s artless sexuality had dented even Shardul’s tight emotional control. I wondered if my lawyer friend was giving himself a little relief of his own—and my cock hardened a little at the idea. Great. Just what I needed—two hot and unattainable Nihani guys to lust after. What I really needed was someone who wanted me back, and who didn’t care about my empathy. Easier said than done. ~~~~~~~~ “How was the show?” I yawned and took the mug of chai Tara handed me. “Great. Really great. If you can get tickets, you and Yashi should go. And the boys too.” “Really?” “Seriously. Something for everyone. Haven’t had that much fun in ages.” Yashi walked in from the living room with the twins hanging off him. “Sounds like something you should do again, Javen.” “I will, if I get the chance. Jyoti’s girlfriend introduced us to Tushar after the show. He’s charming. Very talented.” “I hear his shows are um...a little overheated,” Tara said. “Not in the content. Tushar is...very sweet,” I finished discreetly, conscious of two boys with keen minds and almost photographic memories for adult slip-ups, listening to

every word. “Have you had breakfast?” “Yes,” she said, “but I can make you some toast.” “I can do it.” “Run and play outside, boys,” Yashi said. “But don’t go too far. We’re going to the beach in an hour.” Harshul punched the air. “Yay!” I put my hands over my ears against rapturous cheering. “Too early,” I complained as the boys thundered out of the room. “You’d never cope with kids,” Yashi said fondly. “Uh, but Tara and I wanted to talk to you about something.” I squinted at my smiling sister-in-law. “Something’s up. Something...good. You’re pregnant.” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “How...Yashi told you?” “Nope. I guessed. It’s true?” I went over and hugged her. “Oh, that’s terrific. Do you know what it is? More twins?” “Sanity, what are you wishing on us, brother?” Yashi said with a mock shudder. “She’s a girl. Tara’s only two months along, so don’t say anything to Mum and Dad.” “Not very likely,” I reminded him. He made a face as he remembered my parents weren’t speaking to me. “So you’ll need my room. I’ll start looking for a place this weekend.” “No,” Tara said, looking at Yashi. “Javen, no, we don’t want you to move out.” “Come on, Tara. It’s a big house, but this was always a temporary thing, and I’ve imposed long enough. No, I’d always told myself if you had another kid, I’d go, if not sooner. My savings are healthy, and you’ll have enough to worry about without me under your feet. But your regular babysitter is at your service,” I said, bowing. “Thanks,” Yashi said, though he still frowned. “There’s no hurry. Even once she’s born, she can sleep in our room for a couple of months, easily.” I held my hand up. “You need time to redecorate, buy furniture and so on. Besides, it’s about time I had my own place. I’ve lived with someone else all my life. I’d like to see what it feels like.” “Okay. When you put it that way. But don’t rush into anything, please. And make sure you can afford whatever you choose. You have a business to think of. Don’t get into debt on our account.”

“Yes, Dad. Stop thinking about me, and tell me more about this baby. Have you picked a name? When’s the due date?” “He sounds like my sister,” Tara said. “Are you sure you’re male, Javen?” “When I looked last night, I was.” She flushed and grinned while Yashi hit me on the back of my head for being crude. “So, come on. Tell me about my niece.” They were sincere in not wanting me to leave. But lately I’d been thinking my lack of relationships might have at least something to do with not having my own place, and it was possible, if not very likely, that I might have a slightly higher chance of persuading Shardul to take a chance on me if I could invite him to my own home like a grownup. He didn’t want to trust me on his own territory, and I didn’t blame him for that. He deserved better than a hotel, and anyway, I didn’t think of him as one-night-stand material in the least. Having him over to my own apartment or house, making him welcome on his own terms, would show serious intent. At least I hoped it would. But for now, Tara and Yashi persuaded me house-hunting could wait another day and that a day at the beach with my beloved, if noisy, nephews would do me good. Which it would. Spending time with them always made me feel better in myself. After the breach with my parents, I’d been pathetically grateful for my brother and sister-in-law’s unstinting support. They didn’t know what had caused the argument—I hadn’t wanted to tell them what my mother had been up to, and I guessed she was too ashamed to say—but it didn’t matter. That faith in my good character meant more to me than any fortune could. I’d miss being around such unconditional affection, but my niece would be welcomed to a house as stress-free as her fond uncle could make for her. I was already looking forward to babysitting duties. Didn’t stop me making a list of properties to poke around the following day, and, on a whim and not expecting a positive response, I sent a message to Shardul, inviting him to join me house-hunting. Ten minutes later, I got a response. “Certainly. Lunch is on you. Pick me up at nine.” Hmmm. He must be bored. Or perhaps he liked the idea of being able to look around some chuma housing without anyone giving him a hard time about it. It occurred to me some sellers might not appreciate me bringing him along. All the more reason to do it then. I made an effort to dress respectably, even ostentatiously so, to reinforce my fiscal credentials. Shardul seemed to have had the same idea, because he was as soberly and conservatively dressed as I’d ever seen him. “Is that what you wear to court?” I asked as I gave him the once-over.

“Prison visits. So your sister-in-law is pregnant?” I gaped at him. “Okay, that’s verging on the supernatural. How the hell did you work that out?” “You’re too cheerful to have had a fight with your beloved brother, and since your love life is a sorry thing, I can’t credit that you found a lover and need for a love nest in the space of a single day. So, pregnant brother’s wife.” He folded his arms and radiated smugness. “I could have found a lover.” He clicked his tongue. “Please. I’ve had to spend more than enough time listening to my female relatives plotting to save you from your own pathetic existence, to believe that. So where are we going, and did you consider that taking me along might not be the most sensible thought you’ve ever had?” “Exdan Park, and yes. I want to buy from someone of impeccable social sensibilities. If they can cope with you, then I’ll consider their property.” “And you had no one else to ask.” “And I had no one else to ask. Except Jyoti, or Kirin, or Madan, or my assistants, or I could have gone alone. It’s not too late to back out, you know.” He leaned back in his seat and smirked. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” “You’re such an irritating sod.” “Indeed. Time’s getting away from you, Javen.” Exdan Park was a newish middle-class development of apartments and managed gardens. I wouldn’t have normally gone for something like that except the price was reasonable and it was on the right side of the city for Yashi’s home. As I drove through the ornate but useless gates, Shardul peered around. “Nice, but there’s nowhere to keep your kolija.” “And there is at your place?” “What’s the point of living with space if you’re not using it productively? The Seeker teaches we should occupy no more land than we truly need.” “I don’t own any pets or farm animals, and the last plant I grew was a weed in my granddad’s garden when I was five. I don't think he had the heart to tell me what it was. I don’t have time to garden.” “You spend too little time on activities which enrich your soul, Javen. You should meditate, or paint. Learn to play music.”

“If I shag a musician, does that count?” “Depends. Would he play a tune when you fuck him?” “I’d like to find out.” “You have no chance with Tushar. Zero.” “Huh, says you.” I pulled up into the guest parking spot and climbed out. “Did Jyoti tell you he was a null?” He stared at me over the roof of my auto. “I haven’t spoken to her since the concert. Tushar? She’s sure?” “Neither of us can sense him. She seemed sure. Why?” “No reason. An interesting but useless fact, that’s all.” But his suddenly disturbed emotions didn’t back up his careless dismissal and I wondered what he hadn’t told me. I forgot about it with the distraction of meeting the apartment’s owner, and being amused by his attempt to show how much Shardul’s presence didn’t bother him. Shardul, of course, poked him unmercifully while peering around the place like he was a health inspector thinking of condemning it. I introduced him as my legal adviser, which always made people swallow hard. “I don’t do conveyancing for Kelons, you realise,” he said as we walked out. “I know. I mean, if you wanted the work, I’d be delighted but....” He shook his head. “No money in it. Don’t buy that apartment.” “I wasn’t planning to. It’s all corners. Why don’t you like it?” “It’s shoddy. The tiling in the bathroom is of low standard, and the paint’s peeling in areas where there would be no traffic or damp to explain it. Indicates to me the substance of the structure is likely of similar quality. If you wanted it, I’d insist you obtained a survey.” “I would do. You really do know about everything, don’t you?” “Yes. I’m very clever.” He laughed as I rolled my eyes, which was why I did it. I loved his laugh. “I was thinking of a house, actually, but the maintenance might be too much.” “Then have a lodger. Or a lover. Or a toyboy.” “Toyboys are high maintenance and tend to dislike repairs. Maybe student lodgers? Through the Institute?” “Your neighbours will hate you twice over,” he said, no longer smiling. “Javen, you can’t blur the lines between our two peoples like that in Hegal. I know you mean well, but

it’s my people who pay the price.” “Not everyone thinks like that.” “More than you know. Many who pretend tolerance, like your Kirin Nel, do so because we’re kept in our place. Wait until we have a sizeable middle class and we try to buy into estates like this. Or worse, actually succeed. Then it’ll be ugly.” “Kirin doesn’t pretend tolerance,” I said, really annoyed. “He employs indigenous people, he enjoys their company, and he’s even dated them. Which is a lot more than a lot of us will do.” “None of those things carry a risk to him, Javen. You’re the only Kelon I know who’s put himself in harm’s way, literally or figuratively, for us.” I growled in frustration, pleased at the compliment, but annoyed that Shardul’s odd prejudice against my former lover made him dislike a man I knew to be as good and tolerant as he appeared. Well, usually. His freak-out over my empathy was hardly typical. “There are others. Look at Tanmay Kly.” “Yes, look at him. Died at seventy, and for sixty-nine and a half of his years, he saw us as nothing more than servants and curiosities. I don’t want to have to wait for each of your people to be facing death before they realise what they’ve done.” “What about Yashi?” He shook his head. “I don’t know Yashi. He’s loyal to you, no doubt, but to those you’re loyal to? Be thankful you may never find out the truth of that.” I climbed into the auto, sliding the door shut with a bang. “Why does every damn conversation with you end up being about this?” “Because I don’t have the luxury of walking away from ‘this’. I assumed you understood that, but if you don’t want to be burdened....” He made a zipping gesture across his mouth. “So where’s the next place you want to use me as an indicator of acceptable tolerance levels?” “Shardul, I do want to be burdened. I want to understand as much as I can...but when you attack Kirin, and Yashi, and people you don’t even know like my grandfather, good decent folk, it’s hard to condemn them for racism I’ve never heard them express.” He turned to me. “Fish aren’t to blame for the water they live in, but they get wet along with the quirnel. You’d never have realised Kirin had a problem with empathy if you hadn’t become an empath. Many people don’t show their attitudes to us until they’re forced to deal with us on our terms. If you don’t want to acknowledge that side of them, then don’t have indigenous lodgers in a Kelon neighbourhood. Otherwise you’re in for a nasty shock.”

I clenched the drive stick in my hand. “Okay. It was just a thought. I won’t go ahead with it.” “The thought is a worthy one.” I forced myself to calm down and respond to his concession and the good will behind it. I didn’t want to fight with him over this, and I did understand why he couldn’t leave it aside for even an hour, but sometimes it drove me crazy that even having Shardul as a friend was a political act. He had to weigh up every consequence of that friendship, the risk or otherwise of every place we were seen together, and so did every one of my indigenous friends. It didn’t have to be this way, and yet it was. Even when I was house-hunting. “Let’s go.” I started the engine. “I don't like these places anyway. Let’s look at a real house.” The next place was isolated enough that the neighbours weren’t a problem, but the owner gave Shardul such a look of pure disgust that I turned on my heel without another word, and walked back to the auto. “Bad aura,” I said, straight-faced. “The kind you can’t pray away,” he agreed. As I was in no hurry, and the exercise was just to find out what was available for the money I had, I let Shardul choose the next three places to go. To tell the truth, the excitement at the idea of having my own place had already died, between what he’d said, and my facing the reality of living away from Yashi, Tara and the boys. I loved their home, and them. Walking around a bunch of strangers’ houses reminded me of what I’d be losing, and the appeal of having a ‘love nest’ as Shardul insisted on referring to it, was lost on me now. “If this process makes you so unhappy,” he said after we’d left the last property, both of us wiping our hands on our trousers because the owner’s cleaning left a lot to be desired, “why not build a house?” I stopped dead. “I hadn’t even thought about it. Isn’t that something for a family to do?” “I don’t see why it should be. You can afford it, and you have strongly defined tastes that you’re unlikely to satisfy with these mediocre constructions.” “You might have a point. But I have no idea how to go about it.” “I have a cousin—” “Of course you do.” He laughed. “Yes. She and her husband build houses for our people. She’s got quite a

flair for design, though she’s not formally trained. Perhaps you could consult her.” “Let me buy you lunch and we can talk about it.” The idea cheered me up a little. At least building would mean I could avoid dealing with racist homeowners with lousy taste and standards of hygiene. Given my inclination, I’d have taken Shardul to Kerteze’s but mindful of what he’d said earlier, I asked him to choose where we ate. We ended up at our usual because he liked to give his business to his people. Suited me as the food was good and he could relax. No one paid me any attention any more. I was just the crazy chuma Shardul-ji tolerated for unknown reasons. Since it was Shardul’s day off, we could take our time, and even drink some of the Nihani fruit beer I’d acquired a taste for. Shardul offered some ideas for what I might want in a house and before long I had my reader out and drawing sketches to remind me of what we talked about. “It looks like Kly’s house in miniature,” he said after I finished one drawing. “I guess it does. I want a house covered in plants.” “Thought you knew nothing about gardening?” “Yeah, but plants just grow, don’t they?” He grinned and took a sip of his beer. “Oh, my cousin will love you. Hope your wallet’s as large as your ignorance.” “Not everyone...oh. Hello, Tushar, Sri Ursemin.” Shardul turned. Tushar smiled, but he shifted nervously from one foot to other. “Sorry to interrupt. Javen...and Shardul, isn’t it?” “That’s right,” I said. “Would you like to join us?” “Uh, we were just leaving, thank you. But, um....” “We were hoping to make an appointment to talk to you about a very private matter, Sri Ythen,” Ursemin said. “I don’t suppose you’re working today.” “Uh, no. Although you could come to my office—” “Mine would be more discreet,” Shardul suggested, to my surprise. “If that’s all right, Javen?” “Sure. Today?” He nodded. “Okay, how about you meet us at his office in an hour?” “My card.” Shardul handed it to Ursemin. “There’s parking in front.” “Thank you. I’m sorry to interrupt your day off,” Tushar said. “It’s fine. If we can help, I’d like to. See you over there.”

Tushar grinned happily and gave me a little wave as he walked out. No one recognised him. Without his makeup and gaudy finery, and his braids covered in the loosely wrapped turban many younger Nihan wore, he was just another pretty indigenous youth. Ursemin drew more looks than Tushar did, but no one was particularly surprised to see them together. “I wonder if they’re lovers,” I said slowly. “That reminds me. What’s so odd about nulls?” “Nothing,” Shardul said. “Nothing at all. I was simply surprised to encounter one, that’s all.” “Right,” I said, not believing a word. “So why were you in such a hurry to have him over at your office and not mine?” “Because going to a lawyer’s office is no great curiosity, unlike going to that of a private detective. The last thing I want is our first indigenous crossover star to be embroiled in scandal.” “Ah. Good point. Though I hadn’t really meant to work today.” “My apologies. I don’t expect it to take long.” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But I want to finish my beer and my meal.” We took our time but, to my regret, the conversational thread about the house design had been broken. I’d discovered something new about Shardul today and I’d have liked to have explored it a little longer, since he gave so little out about himself. Ah well, if I went ahead with building my own home, he’d offer me his opinion freely and often on the project, especially with his relatives involved. It might even distract me from the inevitable pain of having to leave Yashi and Tara’s house, and if Shardul had a hand in the design, he might be happy to visit when it was done. As good a reason as any to go ahead with this idea. Tushar and his manager were nowhere to be seen as I parked my auto, but just as I was about to complain about ungrateful clients, they emerged from the side of the building. “Ursemin’s worried about how it looks too,” Shardul murmured. Tushar’s nervousness was more pronounced now, with the quick, forced grin and the fidgeting. So odd to see such obvious signs of an emotion I couldn’t sense at all. His manager’s feelings were easily detectable. Ursemin was calmer but he was certainly concerned about something. Shardul let us into his quiet office, and took us through to an interview room. He offered chai but had no takers. “So,” I said. “Now we’re private, what’s up?”

Tushar looked at Ursemin, who cleared his throat. “Are you familiar with stalking, Sri Ythen?” “Of course. It’s a serious domestic violence issue. Are you being stalked? Tushar?” The lad nodded. “Not by a lover, though. A fan. Though not exactly a fan.” His mouth twisted in revulsion, as he looked at his manager again. “Tushar’s been receiving some quite threatening notes from an individual ever since his video was released. We’re worried.” “Have you spoken to the police?” Shardul asked. “Yes, but they say the threats aren’t specific enough, and they don’t think the person will do more than write. They said it’s a common problem for famous people.” “It is,” I said, “but famous people have been killed by stalkers, so the police should have taken it seriously. I could put a word in for you, if you like.” Shardul glanced at me. I knew what he would say, but he let it lie. Ursemin shook his head. “We hoped you could investigate the person, locate him. Perhaps warn him off.” “I could, but you do realise it’s expensive? The police are the ones who should handle this, especially if you really believe this person is capable of carrying out his threats.” “I don’t trust the police.” Tushar hunched into his chair. “The way they spoke to me when Lalit reported this, like I was dirt. Like it was my fault, somehow.” “It isn’t,” Shardul said. “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “I’m so sorry the police have treated you like this, and of course I’ll help. I’ll need copies of everything you’ve received. Originals if they’re on paper or physical in some way.” “What about protection?” Ursemin asked. “Someone in your position should be thinking about it anyway. I can recommend some reliable firms who do personal protection work.” “You don’t? I hoped...see, I like you,” Tushar said with a sudden brilliant smile. “I could stand having you around. But not some stranger.” Shardul coughed. “You hardly know Javen.” “Yes, but he’s obviously a good person. You trust him, I can see that.” I cleared my throat, embarrassed and also amused by Shardul’s reaction to that statement. “Well, I don’t do that kind of thing. It’s more than one person can handle, actually. If you don’t want to go to the expense of a bodyguard, I can offer you some advice on how to keep yourself safe. No charge,” I added.

“Thank you,” Tushar said, reaching forward to clasp my hand. “I already feel better. It’s been preying on my mind. It’s draining, expecting a threat every time I read a note or answer the phone.” Did he have any idea what effect his touchy-feeliness had on the average person? I willed my erection to go away and gently eased my hand out from under his. “It would do. It’s nasty business. But the police are probably right that there’s no real danger. I hope not, anyway. Do you have the messages with you? Are they electronic or physical?” “Both. And some voice messages on Lalit’s phone.” “So you know he’s male.” Tushar nodded. “Older too. Vile. He says he’s a fan but he hates me. Calls me a banis slut and says I’m corrupting his people.” He shuddered. “Never had someone say such things. And then the police talk to me as if they thought I was a slut too.” Never had I wished more that my former colleagues had shown a grain of common decency towards the minority residents. I’d spoken to many victims of stalking—more often women than men—and there was nothing trivial about the situation. “Upsetting though it is, you should understand your distress is what he wants. That’s what he’s after, not to see you actually injured.” “Why are people like that?” Tushar asked. “I don’t understand what motivates anyone to say such things to a complete stranger.” “Lack of self-esteem,” Shardul said. “He attacks you to diminish you and raise himself accordingly.” “Yes,” I said. “And it’s also about control. So we get that control back. Now about the fee....” “We’ll pay whatever it takes,” Tushar said firmly. Ursemin swallowed. Didn’t blame him. “I’m sure, but I offer special rates for Nihani clients. I’ll quote you a fixed fee of three hundred dolar to identify this person. If I fail, you pay fifty percent of that. If I identify him, then what we do after that is something we can talk about.” Shardul coughed. He knew that was very much below my usual rate, but damn it, I didn’t want to exploit this kid at the start of something so incredible. “Ah, and I want free tickets to another concert if I find him.” Tushar clapped his hands. “Of course! It would be a pleasure to have you there, and Shardul and any one else you want to bring. But can you really find him? I just want this to

stop.” “I’ll do my very best.” They had most of the physical letters with them, and Ursemin forwarded the electronic ones to my account. Shardul recorded the voice messages from Ursemin’s phone, and I questioned the two of them a little longer before calling the interview to a halt. “Best thing you can do if he calls again, is hang up,” I told Ursemin. “Don’t respond to anything he sends.” I gave them some tips about personal safety, which Ursemin wrote down, and suggested they contact a personal security firm for an assessment of Tushar’s safety, if they wanted to be sure they’d covered as much as they could. They left looking much more relieved than when they’d walked in, but Shardul was now the sombre one. “What’s wrong?” I asked, assembling the material into a folder he’d given me. “If a Kelon attacks or even kills Tushar, relations might deteriorate rapidly.” “Agreed, but I doubt it’ll happen.” “Not at this man’s hands, perhaps. You think he’s the only one jealous of a banis rising above his station?” I hadn’t even thought about it, and if anything pointed up the difference between my life and Shardul’s, this did. “If he has to hire protection, he’ll go broke before he makes any money. Maybe your community should think about some kind of voluntary watch?” “A good idea. Sri Ursemin has managed performers before. I’m surprised how little thought he seems to have given the issue.” “He has? That’s weird. But Tushar’s bigger than most. Maybe he’s never had to worry about it.” “Perhaps.” “Don’t believe it?” “I have insufficient information. Can you find this man? You have very little to go on.” “On the contrary. We know he identifies as Kelon, and he’s middle-aged, poorly educated, left-handed, homosexual, and single. Also, he lives alone, and is possibly mixedrace, certainly secretly. He’ll have a job that’s low skill and low status, if he’s employed at all, and will have a very limited social circle.” Shardul raised his eyebrows. “Now that’s supernatural.” I tapped my head. “I’m very clever. And there’s a certain profile that fits these cases. I also think he’s likely to have a criminal record for petty offences, so if I can find where

these letters were sent from, I should have enough to narrow down a search of the city’s offender database. He probably attended one or more of Tushar’s concerts. If I can get a list of ticket buyers, and cross reference with the offender list, that’ll give me some names to start with.” “You’re good at this.” “Yeah, I am. I was a damn good cop too.” “Right now, for my people, you still are.” I sighed. “Encourage more of your young people to join the force. I keep telling you that.” “We need our best and brightest to become professionals and raise wealth and social status. There aren’t enough to waste on your bigoted police.” “Then things aren’t going to change.” “They will, just not as fast as they could. So, do you want to meet my cousin this afternoon?” “Haven’t you got things to do?” “I thought the invitation was for the entire day, but if you’re done, I can always find things to occupy me.” It was a gorgeous warm day, and Shardul had just placed himself at my disposal. I wasn’t slow. “Feel like looking at places to build a house instead? Via a river walk and refreshment up in the mountains?” “That would be most acceptable.” I hid my grin. I didn’t want to think of it as a date, but damn it—it was a date. And I intended to enjoy every second of it. ~~~~~~~~ After I put in a request for an offender list and ticket purchasers, I set Vik on the task of cross-matching likely suspects for our stalker the next day. My mind drifted back to the previous afternoon with Shardul, and how relaxed he’d been. I could do that for him more often, I thought. With me, he didn’t have to act the protector, or wait to be asked for help. I wasn’t important enough in his life for him to stress over most of the time, so he could simply enjoy himself. I liked seeing him happy. I had to admit Tushar intruded a few times, and he’d featured in a couple of pornographic dreams overnight. But Shardul was right. I had no chance with the kid. Ursemin had him under firm control and besides, he was spoiled for choice. Why would a

desirable, respectable Nihani youth go for an older, Kelon ex-cop, when he had his pick of almost anyone? He wouldn’t. But he made good fantasy material. Vik had a short list of possibles in just over an hour. “Good work,” I said, scanning the names. “See if you can get current phone numbers for them, and then we’ll try to record some voices. Dig out employment and residential records too.” “Right you are, boss.” Prachi, still blowing her nose and sniffling, had been downhearted to learn she’d missed out on meeting Tushar. “Can I help on this too, boss? Maybe make some of the calls?” “Sure, so long as you’re caught up. I suppose you want to meet him when I give him the results too.” She flushed. “Could I? Really, boss?” “Sure, why not. Not many perks on this job, so what harm would it do? Madan, you’re not star-struck, are you?” “Of course not. He plays the tambura. Sounds like a dying kolija.” Prachi giggled at my astonished reaction, then sneezed. I waved at her. “Away with you, girl, before you infect the rest of us. No meeting hot singers if you’re still sick.” “I'b nod sig.” “Of course not. Shoo.” Once Vik found phone numbers, I had him and Prachi call on the pretext of carrying out a survey. Prachi ran the recorded voices through an analyser, and one was a clear match. Phanindra Benay, forty-three, employed as a cleaner, with a record of minor public nuisance offences, and one citation from the city council for having an unkempt and unhygienic residence. He’d also been to three of Tushar’s shows. “So this is him?” she said. “He’s a strong candidate. We could be right off the mark here, but I think we have enough to investigate Sri Benay a little more closely. I want images, handwriting, and recent movements. Vik, you handle the fieldwork. Prachi’s a public health hazard.” He grinned while she screwed her nose up at me. “Don’t approach him or contact him, okay? If we’re wrong and he gets the slightest suspicion of what we’re up to, he’ll sue the arse off me. We’ll leave co-workers and friends until we have a stronger case.” “Sure, boss.” I left them to it, but my thoughts turned to how best to handle this. Without hard proof

or an actual crime, the man could complain of harassment. He might also ramp up the attacks in revenge. If I could somehow force a confession out of him, even informally, a stiff letter from Shardul might do the trick, and if not, then that would be enough to force the police to take an interest. Such cases were tricky, when the stalker had yet to break cover and there was no overt connection between the suspect and the victim. Still, if Tushar had been a wealthy Kelon, the police would have taken action, however nebulous the threat. I had other cases to work on, and for the money I was charging, I couldn’t afford to spend too much time on Tushar’s business. My assistants had it under control and it was good experience for them—definitely not the kind of case that came along every day, even if the detective work itself was routine. Prachi and Vik were about to take their second round of exams for their investigative methods and ethics course. They were almost ready to handle a few cases on their own. This could be their dry run. By the end of the day, the two of them had come up with enough that I felt I could present Benay as a plausible candidate to Tushar and his manager. Prachi had found a copy of Benay’s signature and the handwriting fit with what we had, though it wasn’t conclusive. Vik had confirmed Benay had posted items at the local post outlet, the same one from where several messages had been sent. Not enough to convict him, but more than enough to take it to the next stage. I called Ursemin and he suggested I come over to the concert hall where Tushar was warming up for the show. Vik pretended he had no interest in meeting Tushar, but he forgot about my empathy. Prachi didn’t even try to be cool. I thought it was adorable, actually. My assistants were the hardest-working, smartest kids I’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, and seeing them this excited about something so silly charmed the pants off me. Maybe I should turn in my grumpy old curmudgeon badge. Didn’t seem to be getting a lot of use lately. Ursemin took us to a basement dance rehearsal room. Tushar, half-naked, damp and delicious, greeted the three of us like long-lost relatives. Prachi looked about to die from happiness as he embraced her. “They’re not used to clients hugging them,” I said, keeping a straight face. Tushar chewed his lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.” “You really haven’t. But Prachi, Vik, maybe you’d like to give your report to Sri Tushar before he has to get back to the show. They did the research for me under my direction,” I added as Ursemin lifted his hairy eyebrows at me. My assistants managed to calm down and presented the information as professionally as anyone could ask. Tushar said nothing when they were finished, leaving his manager to

accept the report and our account. “So we can’t be sure this is the man?” “No, and any action you take or we do on your behalf has to reflect that. In police terms, he’s a ‘person of interest’, and nothing more. If you barge in and accuse him, you could end up sued, assaulted or worse. Since he’s Kelon and Tushar’s not, it’s even more sensitive.” Tushar shuddered. “I never want to meet him.” “I’d strongly advise against it. Now either I could speak to him, sound him out, and deliver a warning off if he confesses, or you could ask someone else to do so. Our report makes it very clear that he’s been singled out based on strong indicators, but no actual evidence other than the voice match, which is far from definitive. If you choose to accuse him directly, you can’t use what we’ve said as proof, and if you try, I’ll make it clear you have none.” “I understand. You don’t want to be sued.” “No. I also don’t want an innocent man’s reputation stained.” “I think we need to take some time to think about things.” “Take all the time you want,” I agreed. “Has there been anything else? Any more messages?” “No, thank goodness. They distract Tushar from his work.” “Oh, that reminds me.” Tushar clapped his hands together. “Do you want tickets for this evening, Prachi? Vik? How about you, Javen?” “I really can’t tonight, but if you two want to, then take a taxi back and charge it to the office. I think it would be good for research purposes.” Vik affected a put-upon air. “Oh, in that case.” I tried not to grin. Did he really think he was fooling anyone? “Lalit? Can you arrange it? And please, give Javen two pairs to use. I mean, if you want them.” “I’d love it,” I said as Ursemin hesitated in handing over the tickets in his pocket. “My brother and sister-in-law would like to come, and I want them to see your show.” “Great!” Tushar did a twirl and a high kick, and Vik’s eyes nearly popped out of his head with surprise. “Prachi, you’ll have the best seats in the house. Tell me your favourite song so I can sing it for you.” “Sing anything,” she gushed. “I love everything you sing.” I grinned. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Vik, Prachi, Tushar needs to rehearse. Maybe you

could go get a quick meal before the show. Charge it to me too. Enjoy yourselves.” “Thanks, boss,” they chorused. I left in the warm glow of satisfaction of a job well done. At home, I spread a little more joy, handing over both pairs of tickets to Tara. “You don’t want to come?” she asked. “If you haven’t anyone else to ask, sure. But offer them to a friend first. They’ll thank you.” “You’re so kind.” “Shardul made a suggestion about the new house. He thinks I should build one.” “Oh.” Her weak smile couldn't disguise the distinct lack of enthusiasm. “Think it’s a bad idea?” “Oh, no. I hadn’t really thought about that option. I guess it makes sense. But Javen, there’s no hurry.” I pointed at her very slightly rounded tummy. “Tell that to little miss in there.” “It’s months and months away.” “Yes, but if I decide to build, I should get cracking. I need to find land, and then decide on a design, then arrange a builder, then there’s all the decorating—” She put her hand on her forehead. “Stop, you’re making me tired just thinking about it. This place was a spec build. Fortunately, it turned out to be perfect for what we wanted.” “It’s a lovely home, and I love it and you in it. You’ll see me around plenty of times,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I hope so. We’re so used to you being here. Makes me feel safe.” “Yashi doesn’t?” She nudged me in the ribs. “Ow.” “Of course he does. But you’re the police officer. And besides, the boys adore you. It’s brought something special to their lives with you being here.” “Stop, you’ll make me cry.” I grinned. “I won’t be going far away, and just try to stop me visiting.” “I’d never do that.” She tucked the tickets into her wallet. “My turn to cook.” Yashi had bath duty, so all was quiet downstairs temporarily. “Why don’t you relax and let me? I can follow instructions.” She fell onto a chair with a groan. “You’re on. Just to sit down is pure luxury.” When I moved out, I wouldn't be able to do this. But I could always invite them over

for a home-cooked meal. I’d have to learn to cook better than I did, though. Kirin had never managed to teach me, and living with a good cook meant I let him do what he was best at. Another reason to move out. About time I learned basic survival skills. Prachi and Vik bubbled over with enthusiasm the next day, finally driving Madan out of the office to ‘see a client’. I let them go on as long as they wanted. They’d done a nice job of the research on the case, and deserved to enjoy their reward. But after that, all went quiet. I heard nothing from Ursemin or Tushar. I messaged Shardul to say we’d identified a possible candidate for the stalker, and all he said was “Keep me informed.” I didn’t have time to chase the matter up. I figured Ursemin would get back to me once they’d decided what to do. Between thinking about house designs, my regular caseload, and a security assessment Roshni-ji wanted for the nearly completed conference and lecture hall up at the Institute, I had plenty to keep me occupied. Vik and Prachi went on study leave to prepare for their exams, and their absence only reinforced how essential they’d become to the business. Time to think about a third trainee. I was walking back to Yashi’s house after work when my phone went. “Sri Ursemin, what can I—?” “Javen, Tushar’s been attacked! Please, can you come to my house? The police are there and they said they want to talk to you.” Cursed insanity. “Of course. Tell the police I’m on my way. Is he badly injured?” “A knife wound. The doctor has been and tended to it. But he’s in a terrible state.” “Poor kid. I’ll be there in ten.” Quicker for me to call a taxi to my location than go back to the house for my auto. While I waited for my ride, I checked out the news channel. Reports of the incident, which had happened outside the concert venue, were headlining every minute. Details were few, but I learned Tushar had been attacked by a masked man wielding a knife, who’d lunged at him on the street, before running off when Ursemin came to Tushar’s aid. This was the kind of escalation I’d been afraid of. I called Shardul. “Have you heard?” “Yes. It’s all around the community. You think it’s your stalker?” “Possibly. It could be racially motivated anyway.” “True. You’ll assist the police?” “I’m on my way to Ursemin’s house right now. The kid’s shaken up.” “I’m sure. But, Javen, he’s twenty-two. Not actually a kid.”

“Yeah, I know. He just seems so young.” “Not necessarily an endearing trait in an adult. Good luck in finding this attacker.” Now what did he mean by that? Tushar was hardly childish. Innocent, more like. Probably because he was new to the city. He’d lived a pretty isolated life before Ursemin had discovered him. Anyway, how he acted was irrelevant to the fact some bastard was running around this city attacking innocent people. Time was when I’d have been one of the cops chasing this down. Now I could only give them what I had. Three police vehicles and at least ten officers had closed off Ursemin’s house. Of course now they took the threat seriously, when someone had been hurt. I showed my investigator’s ID to the cop acting as gatekeeper. “Javen Ythen for Lalitchandra Ursemin. I’m expected.” He called it in on his communicator. “Go on in, sir. Uh, are you carrying a weapon?” “Yes. Licensed gun. I’m reaching for it now.” I pulled it out slowly and showed him, and my license. “Okay?” “That’s fine. I’ll let the lieutenant know.” The house was one of the older ones in the city, big without being distinguished, two storeys with a garden that Shardul would have a word or two to say about its lack of use. Another cop stood at the door, but let me in without delay. I found Tushar and Ursemin in the living room, with two police officers who regarded me suspiciously. “Javen Ythen, officers. Formerly Sergeant Ythen of the Hegal force.” The lieutenant relaxed. “Nice to meet you, sergeant. Lieutenant Mahre, and this is Constable Eadi.” I nodded to the constable, then came forward. “Tushar, I’m sorry to hear about this. How bad is it?” He was shirtless with a dressing over one side, half-lying, half-sitting on the couch. The way he moved and winced indicated he was in some pain. “It hurts. I’ve never been attacked before.” His pale complexion was bloodless, his blue eyes huge in his shocked expression. “Please sit. Here, by me.” I did so, and took his icy hand. “How bad is the cut?” “The doctor stitched it. I couldn’t look.” He shivered. “There was blood everywhere.” I looked up at Ursemin. “A blanket would be a good idea.” The big man, radiating guilt and worry, jumped to my request. “I’ll fetch it.” While he tended to that, I turned to Mahre. “You wanted to speak to me?” “Yes, about this Phanindra Benay you identified as a possible stalker. Do you have

anything to add to the report you gave Sri Ursemin?” “No. We put everything in. You think it’s him?” “Lalit went to speak to him,” Tushar murmured. “The man went crazy when Lalit mentioned my name. We’re sure he’s the one sending the messages.” Damn it, I’d told them to keep away from Benay. “Oh. Was he angry at you?” Tushar nodded. “He said he’d kill Lalit if he came around again. Lalit said he was terrifyingly angry.” I looked at Mahre, who cleared his throat. “We’ve sent a patrol around there. There’s not necessarily a connection. Unfortunately we don’t have a description of the attacker, and so far Forensics—” His phone interrupted him. “Excuse me,” he said, holding his finger up to us. “Mahre here. Right. Okay, pick him up. I’ll come down to question him myself.” He closed the call. “Things have moved on. We found a knife at Benay’s house with blood on it, and when he arrived home, he became aggressive. That’s enough to arrest him.” “Will that mean I’m safe now?” Tushar asked. Ursemin, coming back into the room, stood behind his client’s chair, the blanket in his hand, waiting for Mahre’s answer. I took the blanket from him and draped it over Tushar, winning a grateful smile. “I think it’s a little early to say the police have caught the man who did this, right, lieutenant?” “Yes, agreed. So until we charge this man or we find a better suspect, you will have to take precautions, Sri Omanand.” “My name is Tushar, lieutenant.” An unexpected flash of steel behind his usually smiling features. I guessed the pain had worn away the patience to be tactful. Mahre looked as surprised as if a flower had bitten him on the nose. “My apologies, Sri Tushar,” he said, bowing a little. “I need to get down to the station to interview this man. I’ll leave the officers on guard here overnight. We’ll review the situation in the morning.” “I’ll show you out,” Ursemin said. As they left, Tushar pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. “I’m so cold, and I can’t stop shaking.” “Shock, fright. It’s normal. Do you drink alcohol? Is there anything in the house?” “No, only chai.” “Would you like some?” “Yes, but I don’t want you to move. I feel safer with you being here.”

How did he manage to sound like distilled sex while simultaneously being genuinely frightened and shaken up? “I think it’s important you have someone in the house tonight. Sri Ursemin lives here, right?” “Yes, but I have an apartment at the back. This was his parents’ house and they built an extension for his grandmother. Normally it’s nice to have my own space but....” He tucked himself down into the blanket. “How could someone try to kill me? I’ve never hurt anyone.” “It’s nothing to do with you. Just what you represent in the attacker’s mind. It’s not your fault.” He nodded distractedly, then winced as his injury caught. “It happened so fast. The police kept asking me about it, but I couldn’t tell them anything. Just someone big, masked, then this really fiery pain in my side. He knocked me down and all I could think about was not being hurt worse. I didn’t look at the man’s face. The police probably thought I was lying.” “No, they won’t. What you’ve described is normal, and they know it. I know you have a low opinion of them, and I don’t blame you, but they’ll do their job.” “Even for one of us?” “Even for one of your people.” No point in pretending what he’d seen with his own eyes wasn’t real. “I hope this man is the right one. I don’t want to keep jumping at shadows.” “Tushar—” But then I thought better of it. The time to talk about other threats was when the kid had a chance to calm down. “Chai would make you feel better.” “Don’t care. You’re warm.” He cuddled up next to me, and I put my arm around him. Well, what else could I do? I’d have done the same for anyone who was hurt and afraid. Ursemin returned and blinked at the way we were sitting. “Could I trouble you for some chai?” I asked. “Sweetened, preferably. For him.” “Of course. It’s very kind of you to come over, Javen. How long can you stay?” Tushar looked up at me with liquid, pain-filled eyes. “All night?” he whispered. “It’s a lot to ask...but please?” “Uh...okay.” To Ursemin, I said, “As long as you need. I really am sorry about this.” “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have confronted that man. All I said was ‘Do you know Tushar?’ and he exploded. Never seen anything like it.” That explained the guilt then. “Then you didn’t cause it. No point in speculating either.

If Benay’s the perpetrator, then we’ll know more soon enough. If not, then it’s not anything you did or didn’t do.” He grunted. “True. I’ll fetch the chai. I think there are some sweets in the kitchen. Tushar, do you feel hungry?” “No, but...Spirit, the show! Lalit, I completely forgot! I should be at the theatre.” He tried to sit up but cried out in pain. I pushed him back. “You’re going nowhere, right, Sri Ursemin?” “Absolutely not. I cancelled the show hours ago, Tushar. Your audience will understand.” “But they’ve paid. I hate letting people down.” “So you’ll do another show at the end of the run. It’s not something for you to worry about. That’s my job.” Tushar sighed and closed his eyes, and Ursemin left the room. I took Tushar’s hand again. “You can’t help this and if you were sick, the show would need to be cancelled anyway. Once the cuts have had a chance to heal, the doctor can put a synthaskin coating over them and you should be able to perform...though maybe not dance. Not for a little while.” “You know a lot about it.” “Well, you know, being a cop, I picked up the odd injury. Did the doctor give you any painkillers?” “Um, maybe. Lalit will know. The doctor made the skin numb around the cut but it’s wearing off. It hurts every time I breathe.” Rib cuts were like that, and added to the shock of being attacked out of the blue, were as unpleasant a minor injury as I could think of. “Lean into them. Don’t put any stress. Here.” I manoeuvred him carefully so I supported his injured side and he could lay his head on my shoulder. “Perhaps you’d be better off in bed.” “Only if you’re there,” he said with a stubborn set to his mouth. “I don’t want to be alone. I keep seeing the knife coming at me, over and over.” “That’s normal too. It wears off.” Only not very fast. Not the time to mention that either. People reacted differently and time would tell if he’d need help to overcome the memories. I felt terrible for enjoying this. I hadn’t been this close to an attractive man in years— not unless I counted dancing with Shardul months ago, which I didn’t dare. That Tushar

seemed to be attracted to me and trusted me, was all the encouragement my neglected and entirely self-centred libido needed. I sternly told myself that Tushar was a client and injured —two reasons to keep it in my pants. He was also more than ten years younger than me, which was a third excellent disincentive. He might be no kid, but I was a lot older, more cynical, and worldly than him. Also, I was Kelon. I needed to be sensible. But sanity, he was lovely. Extraordinary cheekbones, brilliant red hair, and eyes like a newborn dirno, all big and long-lashed. Even the stress lines of pain couldn’t mar his looks. Prachi had talked of little else since she met him. I’d have done the same if I hadn’t had a reputation for gruff manliness to maintain. He became heavy against me, and I was careful not to disturb him, though he roused when his manager returned with a tray. “I thought he would want the pills the doctor left,” Ursemin whispered. “Good idea. Tushar, you should have some chai and the painkillers.” “I’m falling asleep.” “Yes, but you’ll sleep a lot better for this. Come on.” He groused a little but took the mug and pills. “Not much fun for you,” he muttered. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s fine.” “Here, Javen, have one of these,” Ursemin said, offering me a plate of sweets. “If you’re staying, I should arrange dinner for you.” “I’ll be fine.” I planned to wait until Tushar went to bed and fell asleep, and then go home to avoid temptation I was by no means selfless enough to resist. “Will your lover mind? You being here, I mean,” Tushar asked after he took the pills. The chai brought a little colour to his cheeks. “I don’t have a lover, which I’m sure you knew.” “I didn’t. You’re so handsome, I was sure you’d have someone.” “I did. Now I don’t. I could say the same thing about you.” He lowered his eyes. “I had a lover...back in the village. He wasn’t happy when I said I wanted to take up Lalit’s offer. We had a huge fight. Haven’t spoken to him since.” “Perhaps he’ll change his mind?” “Even if he does, I don’t want him back. I don’t want someone controlling me like that.” “Fair enough.” I glanced at Ursemin to see what he thought of this intimate

conversation going on in front of him. He was lost in thought, and my empathy could detect nothing to show he was paying attention to what we were saying. Sooner than I expected, Tushar grew heavy again, and there was no rousing him. I looked over at Ursemin, and nodded at my charge. He grunted. “Doctor prescribed a sedative as well. I think he needed it.” “I agree, but now he needs to rest in his own bed.” “I’ll carry him. I’ve done it before.” That raised my mental eyebrows, but the way the man carefully handled Tushar, dwarfed by Ursemin’s huge size, proved the truth of his claim. I followed them down some short stairs into a small apartment attached to the rear of the house. All was neat, if rather bare except for Tushar’s instruments and some clothes strewn on the sofa. Ursemin laid Tushar on the bed and covered him up. “I should go,” I whispered. “You said you’d stay.” “Yes, but—” “You promised. If he wakes and you’re not here, it’ll upset him. He places a good deal of trust in you, Javen.” “He barely knows me.” Ursemin shrugged. “He’s like that. Intense likes and dislikes, and when he likes someone, he gives everything. I think it would be good if you could stay...if it won’t cause you a problem. I can’t tell you how much this has distressed him.” “I’ve got a pretty good idea. Okay, I’ll stay. Just need to make a call. Um...I don’t have —” He held up his hand. “I have some spare toiletries and a sleeping shirt you can use. Thank you,” he said with a little bow. “This means a good deal to us.” “No problem.” The relationship between these two was definitely weird—more parental than anything else. Still, couldn’t fault a man for having a younger, injured person’s welfare at heart. I called Yashi from the living room. “The attack’s all over the news,” he said. “But I didn’t realise you were caught up in it.” “Only peripherally, and the police may already know who did it. I’ll be back tomorrow. Didn’t want you to worry.” “Thanks. I hope Tushar will be all right. What a horrible thing.” “Yeah, nasty. See you soon.”

Curious, I selected one of the larger media channels on my reader to see what they were saying. The arrest of a suspect had been leaked—no surprise for a story this big. But I was surprised to see a recording of a statement by Lalit Ursemin, apparently made outside the house. It was short, and thanked people for their concern, saying Tushar would make up any cancelled concerts and that he’d soon be back good as new. Standard stuff, I guessed, but when the hell had Ursemin had time and composure to make it? Part of a manager’s job, I supposed, having to think about this crap even when Tushar was bleeding all over the sofa. The publicity would be good for future ticket sales—but it would also encourage those of Benay’s bent. The more famous Tushar became, the bigger the risk. I didn’t think he or his manager had really grasped that yet. Time for that later. Ursemin returned with the shirt and a small bag of toiletries. “Would you like supper? I was going to order something. I’m sorry, I haven’t really had a chance to think about such things.” “No, I’m okay. I had a late lunch and I’m not really hungry. I can raid your cooler later if I’m desperate.” “Of course. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask.” I stripped and put the sleeping shirt on. I had no intention of trying to sleep—it was hours and hours before my usual bedtime—but I had reading I could do, and still keep an eye on Tushar at the same time. He should sleep through to morning, but it was hard to predict. If I’d had my preference, I’d have been at the station where Benay was being held, listening to the interrogation. The best I could hope for was that Lieutenant Mahre would keep me in the loop out of professional courtesy. I climbed onto the bed and made myself comfortable. Tushar’s face was screwed up a little with pain, but he was solidly out. I made sure not to be in a position to bump his bad side, and opened up my reader. Tushar didn’t move for the next four hours, and neither did I, except to command the reader to change pages. By then, I felt hungry, tired enough to try sleeping, and in need of a piss. I’d heard nothing from the main house for a while, so I figured Ursemin had gone to bed himself. I used the toilet, then wandered out into the darkened kitchen of the house. I found a couple of cold samosas which I ate without reheating, and returned to Tushar’s bedroom. He was mumbling in Nihani, and sounded distressed. I climbed back onto the bed and touched him gently on the shoulder. “Shhh. You’re safe, at home.” “Who’s that? Lalit?” “No, Javen. Remember? You asked me to stay?” I touched on the side lamp, and found

him staring at me in confusion. “It’s Javen, Tushar.” He slumped back, hand over his side. “Yes. I remember. Sorry. I was dreaming and it was all mixed up. You really stayed.” “Of course I stayed. Do you want me to stay the rest of the night?” He looked at me with those lovely eyes. “Please?” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “If you like, I could—” “No, you couldn’t. Not only are you injured, you’re my client. And I’m not a complete oaf. I want to stay, if it helps.” “It does. When I woke, alone, I felt terrified. I didn’t know where I was, or what was happening.” “The drugs. The doctor gave you a sedative. Don’t like them myself, but they can help.” “I wish I’d known. I don’t want to be drugged. Come closer, Javen. I can’t slide to you.” I obeyed, turning the light off and lying down under the covers. He cuddled close to me. “How’s the pain?” I asked. “There, but bearable if I don’t move. You’ve had worse.” “Yes, but knife wounds are terrible. They cut through so many nerve endings, and on your side, they pull.” “Yes. You understand. Lalit panicked when he found me. I had to tell him to call the police and then the medics. You don’t panic.” “Not often. You should really go back to sleep.” I stroked his head. His braids were smooth, quite unlike touching unbound hair. “I will in a bit. Do you do this for all your clients?” I laughed. “No, I certainly don’t.” “I’m special.” “Yes, you are. Talented and lovely and a treasure for your people.” “Just my people?” “No. Stop fishing for compliments. You know you have an extraordinary gift.” He chuckled quietly. “But I love to hear you say it. You have a beautiful voice, Javen. So deep and...commanding.” My cock throbbed as his voice dropped on the last word. “Stop it. You know what

you’re doing.” His hand slid down over my crotch. “You have a beautiful body too.” I pushed his hand off me. “Enough of that. I’m not made of stone and there are ethics to consider, not to mention the fact you have a bloody great slice along your ribs.” “Okay.” I heard the pout in his voice. “It’s sad you don’t have a lover. Don’t you even have someone you’d like to sleep with?” “This conversation is verging dangerously close to unprofessional, but to answer your one question, yes, I do, and no, I’m not telling you who. Go to sleep, brat.” “I’m not a brat.” “You certainly are, and sanity knows what you’d be like without an injury.” I tugged him carefully closer to me, the warmth of his bare chest delicious through the thin cloth of the sleeping shirt. “A very attractive and tempting brat who needs rest to recover from the injury and shock of a crappy experience. Sleep, Tushar. You’ll be amazed how much better you feel in the morning.” “And you’ll be here.” “I will. Though I’ll have to escape early. I have work to do.” “I understand.” He wriggled, hissing in a breath. I was about to chide him for hurting himself when I felt his lips, soft and warm, on my cheek. “Good night, Javen.” His words vibrated against my skin. Sanity, what a gorgeous voice. “You too.” He fell silent and I kept quiet, hoping the drug in his system and the tiredness of injury would work their will. In very little time, they did, his breathing going deep and slow, his breaths wafting gently across my neck, which did very little to help me control my libido. He wasn’t the first client to make a pass at me. Something about my job turned people on, which I didn’t understand, and there was always the old “Can you take a little off my bill if I make you a happy man?” ploy, which was good for a laugh, though not much else. But he was easily the most attractive to try it. And the first to tempt me even slightly. And the absolute last one I should take up on the offer. I sighed quietly. I really, really needed to find someone to have sex with who wasn’t a client, didn’t look like a teenager, didn’t remind me of Shardul, and wouldn’t involve me in messy emotional games. Kirin would sleep with me out of real affection and as a friend, but that would take us back to territory neither of us wanted to revisit, so he was out as an option. Hiring someone was always possible, but I was just romantic enough to want a genuine connection of hearts and

minds, even for a few hours. I wondered what Shardul’s “female relatives” would prescribe for my malady? Enough. I closed my eyes and determinedly ignored the heat and subtle scent of the delectable presence next to me. Security plans for the Institute—that would distract me. Positioning of scanners and cameras. Important, boring stuff. Tushar sighed and moved, his hand falling over my hip and onto my stomach, a centimetre or so above my wide-awake erection. It was going to be a very, very long night. ~~~~~~~~ The first rays of sunlight found me wide awake, with a cramp in my leg I desperately wanted to ease, but I didn’t want to wake Tushar to do so. My companion, naturally, had slept like an innocent, pinning me in position, and making me regret my altruism in agreeing to stay. Not that it was his fault, but in the name of reason, what the hell had I been thinking? The sun grew brighter, and Tushar slumbered on. If I didn’t move soon, I wouldn’t be able to walk. Maybe I could wake him and he’d go back to sleep. But then he sighed deeply and opened his eyes, looking straight into mine. “You stayed.” “Yes, but I’m sorry. I just need to....” I climbed out of bed and stretched, wincing at the pain. “Sorry. Cramp.” “Because of me?” “A little.” His expression fell. “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a nuisance to people over this.” He covered his eyes with his hand. I sat and stroked his hair. “Hey, I’ve had worse sleeping with someone I lived with. It’s nothing.” I bent and kissed the bit of cheek I could see. “Forget me. How are you?” “Sore. Not so tired.” I tugged his hand away from his face, and kissed him again. “Good. You don’t look as pale.” “Next to you, I always will.” I smiled. “Yes.” I touched his face—my fingers look very dark against it. “I should go before the press come swarming.” “Maybe you should stay until they get bored.”

“That could take a while.” He kissed my fingers, then trapped them in his hand. “I wish we’d made love, Javen.” Sanity, that was all I needed. “A bad idea, Tushar.” “Kiss me. Kiss me properly.” “Tushar—” “Nothing more, I promise.” Like I said, I wasn’t made of stone. I bent and touched my lips to his, letting him guide me. He cupped my head and pulled me close, his tongue slipping into my mouth, his lips demanding me, testing mine. Young he might be, but he knew what he was doing—more than me, I thought. His hand roved, slipping under my shirt onto my bare skin, until I trapped it. He smiled under my mouth, and redoubled his sweet attack on me. I had to stop this. I pulled away, though his moan of disappointment echoed my own silent one. “Any more and I’ll never get out of here.” His smile asked “This is a problem, why?” but he didn’t move to make me stay. “You kiss like a dream.” “So do you, and you know it.” His mouth quirked. “Brat. You forgot the ‘brat’.” “Hmmm, so I did. Brat.” He grinned and my heart flipped a little. “I’ll call later, I promise.” “Come by?” “Maybe. But I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself.” “Lalit will.” “Yeah.” He blew me a kiss and I smiled. “‘Bye, Tushar.” “‘Bye, Sri Sexy Voice.” Definitely a brat. I changed in the main house to avoid temptation. Ursemin was nowhere to be seen. It was only seven so I had plenty of time to go home, catch Yashi and Tara, shower and eat. But damn it, I’d forgotten about my auto. I placed an order for a taxi to meet me out front, and went outside to wait. Or that had been the plan, anyway. When I stepped through the front door, I stumbled, battered by the sheer force of emotions projected from what to be....

Hundreds of people. Mainly women. Spilling out across the pavement and roads, holding candles, and flowers, and incense, for sanity’s sake. One of them spotted me, and the screaming started. “What the fuck is going on?” I yelled at the cop guarding the entrance. “Vigil for Sri Omanand.” “He’s not dying.” The cop cocked his thumb at the crowd. “Try telling them.” “And how am I supposed to get through that lot?” “I heard you used to be on the force, sergeant.” I made a face at him. “You’re a fat lot of good.” Nothing for it but to walk quickly and make my total lack of being Tushar obvious. But as I strode manfully and with purpose towards the gate, someone yelled, “There he is! Sri Ythen, look this way!” Startled, I obeyed, and a rush of camera clicks recorded my confusion. “Sri Ythen, is it true you’re Sri Tushar’s lover?” “Sri Ythen, does your father approve of your relationship with Sri Tushar?” “Sri Ythen, what’s it like having a famous banis lover?” “No comment,” I gritted out, wishing I could say “Fuck off” instead, but I’d been brought up too well, unfortunately. If I stopped to answer questions like this, I’d end up feeding idiotic speculation, and that was the last thing this situation needed. The questions and the cameras followed me out onto the street. Between the annoyance at this unwanted development, the still overwhelming emotions from Tushar’s worried fans, and the frantic interest of the media, my head felt like my skull was three sizes too small for the contents. My temples throbbed with pain. My eyeballs throbbed. The taxi driver nearly drove off when she saw the press pack. “Lose them and I’ll pay you triple fare,” I told her. “Where to?” “I honestly don’t care. Head northish.” She tore off. “Are they following?” “I can’t see anyone, sir.” “Just keep driving. I’ve got to make some calls.”

“Yes, sir. Are you really Governor Ythen’s son?” “Just drive, please.” I called Madan. “Remember all that crap after the Governor’s Ball? You can double it. We better close the office for the day. Tell the kids to stay low and not answer any strange calls.” “Again? Who is it this time, Javen?” “Tushar. Only it’s not. It’s a beat up.” He whistled. “Sleeping with the clients is a no-no.” “Yeah, I do know that. I wrote the rules for the staff, remember? Just hunker down until this goes away again.” “Okay. But it’s good publicity for us, in a way. If Benay’s the guy, I mean.” “Yeah.” Good publicity for Tushar and Ursemin too, though I doubted Tushar realised it yet. “I have other calls to make. I’ll be at home if you need me.” Next call was to Yashi to warn him. He wasn’t at all pleased since he had to work and there was no chance of making a getaway like he had last time. “We need you settled down with someone dull, brother. The novelty has worn off. Mum and Dad will be furious.” “Right now, that’s the least of my worries. Tell Tara I’m sorry too.” Then I called the police station and asked for Lieutenant Mahre. “Ah, sergeant, I’m glad you called. I wanted to thank you for the tip-off on Benay.” “He confessed?” “He’s definitely the one who’s been sending the messages and threats to Sri Tushar. I haven’t managed to get a confession about the attack, but with the knife and Sri Tushar’s blood on it, there’s enough to charge him.” “Good work. It’ll be a relief to my client.” “The early news is full of reports about you and your client.” I didn’t think I’d imagined the slight leer in his voice. “Press fantasy, as usual. Not the first time, with my father’s position and so on.” “Yes. You didn’t mention your father yesterday.” “Because it’s not relevant to the case or anything else. Can I tell Sri Tushar Benay’s out of action?” “May as well, but he shouldn’t drop his guard. The loonies have been coming out of the tall grass on this one. I had six people drop in and confess to attacking him before

eleven o’clock last night.” “Wonderful. Better you than me, as they say.” “Thanks very much, sergeant. I’ll keep your client informed.” Yeah, that was definitely a leer. Bastard. The driver looked at me in the mirror. “Sir? How much longer?” I gave her the address for Yashi’s house. No press hounds there, but voice messages had been left while I’d been on the phone. I paid the driver her promised triple fare, then scanned through the list. I deleted all but one, from Shardul. “Javen, what’s going on? I’ve had some very irritating calls about you this morning.” Damn it. I sent him a text message asking for a face to face over lunch, or chai. He replied ten minutes later. “Chai at eleven. Can spare you half hour only. Make it worth my time.” Great. Nothing was pissier than a pissed off Shardul. I showered and shaved, then checked the news reports. My rumpled face and clearly just out of bed hair was all over the media channels, along with unseemly speculation about my relationship with Tushar. The attack itself was covered in full, though the focus had shifted to Benay’s arrest and the vigil outside Ursemin’s house. One channel reported that a statement was expected from Tushar’s manager at eleven. Nothing about Benay being charged. That was one bit of good news to mollify Shardul. Loonies or not, the one known loony had been exposed and taken out of the equation. Gave the indigenous community and me some breathing space to come up with a way to keep their golden child out of trouble and safe. The dull and unexceptional chai house which had been my unofficial office for a couple of years and still made a discreet place for client meetings, served again today. Shardul strode in as if he owned the place, and the owner, who habitually paid no attention to anything happening in her place, blinked at his appearance. He gave her a brilliant smile. “Chai, please, unsweetened and no dairy.” She stared at him until he shrugged and come over to where I was sitting. He sat down and glared. “Well?” “Hang on, I want to hear this.” I pointed to the media screen at the table. “Javen.” “Shhh. It’s important. You’ll want to hear it too.” The video cut to Ursemin, reading a prepared statement, Tushar standing at his side.

“We wish to thank the police and Tushar’s fans for their support and good wishes. Tushar is recovering well and performances will resume tonight.” A shift of camera shot showed there were at least twenty reporters covering the story, and the crowd of female fans who’d greeted me outside the house, looked as large and devoted as it had earlier that morning. “Sri Ursemin, any leads on who carried out this attack?” “You’ll have to ask the police about that, I’m sorry.” “Sri Tushar, how are you feeling?” Tushar gave the camera a wobbly smile. “Much better, thank you. I’d like to thank my doctor for his kind treatment, and thank my friends who are listening, for all their prayers.” Prolonged cheers and applause greeted this, and he waved to his fans. “Sri Tushar, what’s your relationship with Governor Ythen’s son?” “Sri Ythen is working for me,” Ursemin answered. “He’s a friend,” Tushar added. “And that’s all.” “Sri Tushar, will this attack make you reconsider public performances?” “Not at all. I’ll stop performing when my audiences ask me to, not before. Do you want me to stop?” he asked, batting his eyelashes, prompting a few laughs from the reporters, and rowdy denials and shouts from the crowd. “Don’t think so,” the reporter who’d asked the question said. “Will you be able to give your usual performance?” “The doctor tells me I mustn’t dance just yet. Yes, I know,” he said, as the crowd groaned. “But I’ll sing more songs to make up for it!” The programme switched over to another item, and I closed the screen. “He handled it well, I thought.” Shardul raised an eyebrow as he sipped his chai. “They’re making the most of a bad situation. Why are reporters pestering me about you?” “Er, because they probably want my alleged fiancé’s opinion about my new lover.” “I beg your pardon?” “I spent the night at Sri Ursemin’s, keeping an eye on Tushar. The kid was a mess. He needed someone to get him through the worst bit.” “I see. And someone told the press. Did you learn nothing from that fiasco at the ball?” “A fiasco you set up, so cut the lecture. Yes, someone tipped them off. I had other

things on my mind.” “Like getting into Tushar’s admitted delectable salwars?” “No! You didn’t see him. He was in shock, real shock. Terrified. At least we’ve caught the bastard who did it. It was the guy we fingered as the stalker.” “Hmmm. Convenient.” “And what the hell does that mean?” He sipped his chai again, and radiated irritating inscrutability. “What I said. Convenient to solve two crimes with one man.” “Well, yeah. But there are other people out there who’d love to take a shot at our boy, so if your people plan to do something to stop that happening, now’s the time to do it.” “Plans are being made. And what are yours?” “What do you mean?” “Regarding Tushar.” “I’ve done what they wanted, and found the stalker. If they want more, they’ll have to ask.” “Right. A relationship with a Kelon raises many issues for him, you realise. Especially a Kelon with your connections.” “There is no relationship,” I snapped. “But if there was, then we’d deal with it. It’s none of your business.” “It is if your relationship causes problems for my people, Javen.” “It wouldn’t be the first one between our races. What’s the real issue? Are you jealous?” He laughed in derision. “Of whom—Tushar?” “No, me.” But what an interesting assumption. “Look, you’re making an ocean out of a kid pissing in a puddle. Nothing’s going on between us. Back off, Shardul.” He swallowed the rest of his chai, and set the cup down with delicate precision. “I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’.” “Fine.” “And I have appointments.” “I figured.” He arched his eyebrow at my cold tone. “I’ll forward further media enquiries to you. I suggest you dissuade anyone from contacting me on this subject, if you have that power.”

I waved to indicate “Yeah, whatever.” “See you.” “Perhaps. Good day, madam,” he said to the owner, and gave her a formal bow. She stared at him in horror as he walked out. Show-off. What the hell was his problem, crapping at me over something that never happened and never would? Better not happen, anyway. Sometimes I wondered if Shardul was an empath too. He was just a little too good at reading my real emotions and motives. But he was wrong. I hadn’t slept with Tushar except in the purely literal sense, and even if I had, I wasn’t a complete fool. A bit of one for not thinking about the press interest but I’d spent years making people forget who my Dad was, and a lot of time I forgot myself. Especially now, when I was disowned in practice if not in law. Of course if the press found out about the estrangement, that would only make them more ravenous. Bloody reporters. ~~~~~~~~ The stupidity went on for a couple of days, fuelled by the announcement that an individual had been charged over Tushar’s attack. The involvement of the governor’s son in said arrest and charging had regrettably leaked out, and we’d had an uptick in enquiries, even a couple of genuine ones. Tushar bravely returning to the stage to sing, though not to dance. The news reports the next day were full of quotes from rapturous fans praising his courage, and saying how honoured they were that Tushar had made such an effort for them. The irony of all this favourable commentary from Kelons being heaped on a member of the normally despised indigenous race wasn’t lost on me, and I doubted it had been lost on Shardul. I wished I knew for sure, but Shardul wasn’t talking to me. How did I know that? It was normal for days to pass without hearing from him, after all. But I just knew he wasn’t. Shardul’s shunning had a way of getting its point across without him doing anything at all. Tushar had apologised very sweetly for all the trouble the mess had caused me, and ruefully asked if it meant I’d never come visit again. “Of course I will,” I assured him. “But later, when things are back to normal. How do you feel?” “It’s still very painful, but the doctor put the synthaskin over the wound, just like you said, and gave me some pills for the shows. Those drugs are awful, though.” “I know. Maybe it’d be better to take a week off performing.” “I can’t. People have been so patient and kind. You should see the flowers they’ve sent, and the messages. I feel very loved.”

“Good, but I don’t think they’d want you in pain.” “I’m a dancer. Pain is part of what we do. I’d like to dance for you again, Javen.” It was like he had a voice-operated remote control that worked exclusively on my cock. He only had to drop his voice a little as he said my name, with that subtle hint of something lush and a little forbidden, and suddenly my underwear was too tight. “I, uh....” Now what could I say to that? “I could drop over and watch you from backstage.” “Yes! Please, Javen, do that. The doctor says I can dance again in a week. So in one week, you come to the concert hall.” “You’ll still be playing? That’s a hell of a run.” “I know. Lalit booked three extra shows and they sold out in an hour. The press have been so kind to us, it’s amazing.” “They can turn on you just like that. Especially—” “On a Nihan? Yes, I know. Lalit says we have to use what we have now while we can. It’s not just me, you know. The dancers and musicians, they’re being booked and recording deals have been made. We’ve even had interest from Kelon. I have to make sure they have their chance too.” “You’re a great kid, you know that? I’ll definitely be there next week.” “And come back with me?” “Maybe.” After all, the case was closed, Ursemin had paid our bill, and Tushar was no longer a client. And Shardul would have to deal. “I’m looking forward to that, Javen. Spirit guide you,” he said, and closed the call. Spirit be damned. My gonads were doing all the guiding right now. ~~~~~~~~ Eventually things got back to something approaching normal, for which Madan and I were grateful. We had things to do, and clients paying a lot more than what I’d charged Tushar. With the kids still on leave, and Devraj, the temp clerk, still finding his feet, I had to spend more time than I cared for just handling office crap. After I’d gone through the morning’s messages, I took a call from one of our clients, Shrimati Reindi. She wasn’t happy, which surprised me because we’d proved her husband had a mistress, just as she thought. “But you didn’t find the other one!” “The other? Shrimati Reindi, you didn’t mention he—” “I didn’t know he had two!” “I see. But surely—”

Our office crashed open, and a man mountain blocked the doorway, his broad face red, radiating rage. “Call you back, Shrimati Reindi,” I said, and closed the call. I stood. Madan was already on his feet. Devraj, eyes huge in terror, scooted out of his chair and bolted for the kitchen out back. Couldn’t blame him. “Can I help you, sir?” I kept my voice level and calm, but my hand went to the butt of my gun in its holster. “Which one of you is Ythen? I want him.” I moved forward a little, giving Madan the cop signal for “call for help” behind my back. “That’s me. Who are you?” “Phanindra Benay. You set me up!” He smashed his fist down on top of Devraj’s desk. “And how did I do that, Sri Benay? Why don’t you take a—” “I never hurt that boy! I’d never hurt anyone!” “I’m sure—” I stopped, surprised. Under the rage was a burning sense of injustice. But the man had.... “You admitted sending threatening letters.” In the distance I heard sirens, hopefully coming towards the office. “I...I sent some notes. But I never hurt him! I didn’t touch him. I never went near him!” He smashed his fist down again. “You told the police I had.” “No, I didn’t. Now I need you to calm down, Sri Ben—” He came around the desk, his meaty fists raised in intent. I drew my gun. “That’s far enough. Sit down!” Madan approached, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw he had his gun out too. “Sri Benay, do as he says. Sit down, and then this won’t have to go any further.” Benay’s eyes darted between the two of us. “I didn’t do it!” “Okay, I believe you,” I said. “Now sit. Sit!” He obeyed. The sirens were louder now. “I’d never hurt him,” he mumbled. “Why aren’t you in custody?” He looked up in surprise, as if he’d forgotten me. “Bail. Wearing a tag. It’s legal.” If it was, he’d undoubtedly violated his bail conditions, but I was more interested in the man’s emotions. If he was lying, I couldn’t detect it, and if he was, I could see no point to him being here. “Why did you send the notes, Sri Benay?” The angry flush on his face had faded, and he looked a good deal less insane. But the glint of madness still lurked in his watery eyes, so I kept my weapon handy. Madan didn’t move. “Answer me,” I said quietly.

“He’s a filthy slut. He should go back to his home, leave decent folk alone.” “So you tried to scare him off, and when it didn’t work, you attacked him with the knife the police found on your property.” “No!” His hands twisted as if he was in pain. “I’d never. I’ve never hurt—” “You have a criminal record for assault, Sri Benay.” “I was being picked on. Kids calling me stupid, fat. Slow old bugger, they said.” I nodded. “Maybe you felt Sri Tushar was taunting you.” “No! You don’t understand! I’d never hurt him! I....” “You?” He looked away. “I never did anything to him.” Outside, a police auto had pulled up, and two officers approached. “Sri Benay, the police are here. You’re going to go with them without causing any trouble, or you’ll go back to jail. Do you understand?” “You have to tell them I didn’t do it! I didn’t!” “I’ll speak to them, but only if you cooperate. Start being violent, start yelling again, and I’ll do nothing. You keep away from this office and my people. This isn’t their concern. Do you understand me?” “But—” I slapped the desk between us. “Do you understand me?” “Yes,” he said sullenly. “But I never did it.” The two cops entered the office. “Sri Ythen, Sri Dhruv,” Constable Satol said, nodding to us both. “Having a bit of a problem, I see.” I put my weapon away. “Sri Benay came to...discuss the charges against him, regarding Sri Tushar. I’ve told him I don’t want him to return here, and that if he does, his bail may be withdrawn.” A smart woman, Constable Satol didn’t need more of a hint than that. “Indeed. Sri Benay, come with us, please.” “I won’t go back to jail!” “No, we just want to have a little chat and then we’ll take you home. Sri Ythen wants you to leave.” Benay hunched over in the chair. “I didn’t do it.” “I believe you,” I said.

“You do?” “Yes, I do.” He blinked up at me, his slow mind taking it in. “Will you help me?” “If you go quietly, yes.” He stood. “I didn’t hurt them,” he said to Satol. “I can see that, sir. Come along now.” Once they cleared the office, I locked the door behind them, and exhaled noisily. “Sainted reason.” “Yeah,” Madan said, holstering his weapon and falling onto a chair. “What in the name of the Spirit was that all about? Of course he’s the one who attacked Tushar. They found the knife.” “No prints. Madan, he was telling the truth. He didn’t do it. At least he believes he didn’t.” “Delusional?” “Maybe. Or maybe he was set up, just like he thought.” Madan lifted his eyebrows. “Your empathy’s not admissible.” “No, but I can hardly stand by and let an innocent man go to prison.” “He’s not innocent. He did send threats.” “It’s been a while since I was on the force, but I seem to remember something...oh what was it? Oh, that’s right. Innocent until proven guilty?” “Yeah, yeah,” he said, grinning reluctantly. “What will you do?” “Have a chat with Lieutenant Mahre for a start. And warn Tushar and Sri Ursemin the real attacker is on the loose.” “May be on the loose. Personally, my money’s on Benay being out of his mind.” “He’s still on the loose. I didn’t know he’d made bail.” “No fingerprints on the knife, circumstantial evidence, you know that’s S.O.P. if there’s no confession.” “And the victim’s indigenous.” “I don’t think the lieutenant would let that influence him,” Madan said. “Strikes me as a fair sort.” “Might not have been up to him.” I wiped my face. “Devraj? It’s over. Come on out.” The lad emerged, but headed straight to the door. “I’m not putting up with this kind of

thing, Sri Ythen. I’ll let the agency know you need someone else. I’m sorry.” He tugged on the door, and panicked when he found it locked. I stepped up and unlocked it, and he bolted before I could wish him luck. “Terrific. At least Vik and Prachi missed it.” Madan grinned. “You know, I think they’ll be disappointed. They don’t scare easily.” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the departing Devraj. “Not that easily, anyway. Damn it. Another temp or do we muddle through until the end of the week?” “Muddle. Breaking another one will be too much work.” “You mean, ‘breaking in’, surely.” “Oh, didn’t I say that?” I shook my head at him. “Come on, if we’re going to be short a clerk, you’ll have to help me with the files.” But once I’d shovelled a healthy pile of work Madan’s way, I made two calls. One to Lieutenant Mahre, asking for a meeting, and the other to Lalit Ursemin, saying I needed to speak to the two of them. “Come for late supper at my house,” he suggested. “After Tushar’s show.” “You still have reporters?” “Yes, unfortunately. Only a couple but they’re persistent.” “Then I’ll meet you at the concert hall. You can smuggle me into the house.” He laughed. “Oh, Tushar will love that. See you at nine, Javen.” I mentally considered the logistics of what I’d arranged, and what disguises I could quickly assemble, but then my thoughts turned back to Phanindra Benay. I realised now the slight nagging doubt that the real attacker had been found wasn’t just general paranoia, but because the story didn’t fit. The knife with Tushar’s blood had been found in a refuse bin at the front of Benay’s property—accessible to any passerby. Logic said Benay was the most likely person to have put it there—but the knife had either been wiped clean of prints, or the attacker had worn gloves. So why would Benay then drop the knife, along with the incriminating blood, into a bin at his own home? The man wasn’t very bright or particularly devious. That he would have thought of fingerprints at all, had surprised me at the time. If he hadn’t done it, the lack of prints made more sense. But that also meant someone wanted Benay to take the blame. It also meant someone knew Benay was the one sending threats to Tushar. This case was suddenly a lot more complicated than I thought.

This fact didn’t brighten Lieutenant Mahre’s day when I shared my observations and thoughts with him that afternoon. “Empathy’s not admissible,” he said, right on cue. I rolled my eyes. “Lieutenant....” “Okay, you know that. But give me something, sergeant. I can’t drop the charges based on evidence I can’t present.” “If his lawyer’s doing his job, he’ll tear your case apart over the knife anyway. I’m just telling you that if he does, maybe you shouldn’t fight too hard—and that you still have an attacker to find.” He groaned. “The trail’s cold.” “Not quite. Someone knew about Benay’s little obsession. There can’t be many people who did. But you have another problem—Benay’s resentment’s likely to explode again, and I wouldn’t like to be the one in the path of it this time.” He wrinkled his nose in irritation. “Any more good news you want to drop on me, sergeant?” “No, that’s it. I’ll warn Tushar. The rest, I leave with you. Keep Benay away from me and my client.” “Do my best. Sanity, the prosecutor will have my head for this.” I shrugged in sympathy. “Better than an innocent man being punished.” “If he’s innocent. I want a psychiatric review before I do anything.” I left it with him. Honestly, I didn’t know if Benay had blanked out the attack, but if I had to make a bet, I’d say he hadn’t. The knife didn’t fit. Mahre was a good cop, and now I’d pointed out the anomaly, he’d be no more able to rest until he resolved it than I would have been. Only now it was his job, not mine. The events of the day left me snarly and unsettled but the prospect of seeing Tushar, even to give him bad news, was a bright spot to aim for. I guess I’d already decided before I set out for the theatre that I’d spend the night with him, Shardul’s objections be damned. That was why I didn’t tell Shardul about Benay. After all, there wasn’t anything he could do that he wasn’t already doing to keep Tushar safe, and more than that, wasn’t any of his bloody business. If Shardul wasn’t interested in my Kelon arse, then he could keep his opinion about who was interested to himself. Why was I even justifying myself to myself? “Javen, you look like you’ve just eaten girkel fruit without honey.” I looked over at Madan, regarding me with his usual wry smile. “I wish that was all it

was. Just to let you know, I plan to let Tushar have his wicked way with me tonight if he chooses.” He held his hands up. “Do not want to know, partner. You’re the ethics expert.” “And Tushar’s not my client any more. Ursemin is, if anyone still is, and I’m not planning to sleep with him.” “Please, stop with the disturbing images. That man frightens me.” I snorted at the idea of Madan being frightened by anything. “He’s not my type for sure. I wanted to give you a head’s up in case the press get wind of it. Which they won’t, if I’m careful.” “Please be careful then. My wife’s been quite rude about the repeated images of my fleeing back she sees on the news channels.” Yashi and Tara hadn’t commented, but then both of them had become used to the occasional unwanted eruptions of press interest because of Dad. But thinking of them reminded me that I needed to get on with finding other accommodation. Should I speak to Shardul’s cousin or not? Right now I didn’t think it such a good idea to have him so closely associated with my arrangements, but I’d get over it, probably, and he’d spoken very highly of his cousin’s abilities. After the weekend, I thought. I’d look for land, and then speak to his cousin next week. There. A decision and procrastination. Something to suit the whole family. I deemed a wig and moustache sufficient disguise to deter the press if any reporters were hanging about the theatre, but there weren’t any I could see. Not that this meant there weren’t any, so I kept up the changed walk and other slight alterations in my manner until I was safe inside and being taken to Tushar’s dressing room to wait for the end of the show. The ubiquitous mirrors reflected my disguised features, which I found mildly disturbing. I avoided them, looking at the clutter on the table instead. Among the pots of makeup and feathers, a discarded pass for one of the media recording studios, and a letter inviting Tushar to visit a certain well-known cloth merchant’s store in Haeve Street. I shook my head at the idea of Sri Gerjan, scourge of loitering Nihani youth, inviting another of that race to help him promote his wares. I’d wager it was the first time Sri Gerjan had ever asked any indigenous individual across his store’s threshold. I wondered if Tushar would accept, and which other Kelon merchants would set aside their prejudices to earn more dolar. Tushar burst through the door, but stopped dead. “Javen? What are you wearing?” “My costume,” I said, getting to my feet.

He put a hand on his hip to assess me, making his dozens of bracelets and beads jangle merrily. “Hmmm. A moustache. Never kissed a man with a moustache before. Can I?” He didn’t wait for me to say yes. He rushed over, grabbed me in a surprisingly strong hug, and kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in a year. I had to bend a little to help him out, and feeling mischievous, picked him up so he was at my level. He squeaked a little, but my antics didn’t make him break contact with my mouth for a nanosecond. Ursemin cleared his throat at the door, so I put Tushar down. He pouted. “I wasn’t ready.” “Manners, brat.” I touched my upper lip. “Now look what you’ve done.” “Inferior glue,” he said, utterly unabashed. “Want me to fix it?” I ripped the thing off and stuffed it in my pocket. “Nah. Itches.” “I think you’re better without it. Though a real one would tickle, don’t you think?” I shifted to ease the strain down below, and Ursemin made another throat-clearing sound. “Tushar, we should hurry. Javen has things he wants to talk to us about.” “I am hurrying.” Tushar started to strip off all his bangles and chains, dropping them onto display stands. I helped him out of his glittering waistcoat, which won me a flutter of his fake eyelashes. A white bandage covered his wound. “I thought you had synthaskin over it now.” “I do. Um....” “After all the fuss about the attack, I thought people would be expecting some visible sign of his injury,” Ursemin said. “And it meant Tushar not dancing wouldn’t upset people.” “Ah. More costume,” I said. “Yes. I really am injured. You know that.” “Of course.” I kissed the back of his neck in apology and he smiled at me in the mirror, pausing as he wiped makeup off his face. “Take your time. Bad news can wait.” “Bad news? Oh no. Tell us now. Get it over and done with.” Ursemin’s reflection nodded at me over the top of Tushar’s head. “Okay. It’s straightforward enough. Sri Benay’s out on bail, and it looks as if he may not be our attacker after all.” Tushar went very still. Ursemin blasted me with worry. “But they found a knife,” he said.

“Yes, but no fingerprints. It might have been planted, so the police will investigate further.” I’d never mentioned my empathy to either of them. Given Tushar’s special state, I’d hoped not to. Refreshing not to have it taint this relationship, at least. “You shouldn’t worry unduly. You already know the threat didn’t disappear with his arrest. I understand the indigenous community are mounting surveillance where you might be vulnerable, and so long as you take sensible precautions, particular here at the theatre, you’ll be fine.” Tushar shivered. “But there’s a man out there who wants me dead.” “Maybe just scared.” I stroked his neck and he leaned into the caress. “It didn’t sound to me like a serious attempt to kill or even harm you. More like a warning off.” “But from what? Performing?” “Probably. With the shows finishing soon, hopefully that will be all the attacker wanted. The thing is, you just do what you can, take reasonable precautions, or you’ll make your life a misery.” “But I keep thinking about it.” “Natural for now. We’ll just have to distract you,” and he laughed as I ran my hand down his back. “Come on, Tushar. Let’s get you out of here. I feel happier when you’re at my house,” Ursemin said. “No one will attack you with those reporters around.” “True. They serve some purpose. Such nuisances though.” He peeled off his fake eyelashes and the stuck on sparkles, then gave his face another wipe. “There. A shower at home and I’m all clean.” He leapt up from his chair and planted another kiss on me, before snuggling against me and making it clear my arms were for putting around him now. I obliged. “Let’s go,” Ursemin said. “The auto is under cover so we should be able to get you inside without trouble, Javen, but you’ll have to lie low until we’re in the garage at the house.” “I’ve done worse. Do you want your letter, Tushar?” “Letter?” “That invitation.” I pointed. “Oh, that.” Tushar passed it to his manager. “Lalit deals with those things. I don’t know anything about promotion, so I leave it to him and do what he says. He’s very clever, and has so many ideas.” Ursemin gave a little bow. “Kind of you, Tushar, but I can only promote good

products.” “And I’m the best.” Tushar wriggled enticingly against me. I grinned against his braids. “You sure are.” Ursemin’s auto was more like an upmarket limousine than a suburban runabout. As I looked at it, he said, “I used to chauffeur my acts around. I had to keep up appearances.” “I don’t care about that,” Tushar said, climbing in the back. “Javen, there’s room for you to stretch out if you put your head in my lap.” “Notice the completely innocent and unplanned way he said that,” I noted to Ursemin. He grinned. “Tushar, I should remind you there are public decency laws in Hegal.” “Yes, and there’s a blanket in the back, isn’t there, Lalit?” “Completely unplanned,” I muttered as I stepped in. “I am in disguise.” “But those horrible reporters will make up stories about another man spending the night with me, and then pester you about how unfaithful I am. Come on, lie down. I don’t bite.” “Liar.” His smile nearly split his face. I laid my head on his lap, yanking off the stupid wig at the same time. His hands dove immediately into my real hair and scrunched it up. “Ooh, now that’s better.” I poked him in the thigh. “Molestation can wait.” “It’s only your hair.” That innocent act really was very convincing. Ursemin threw the blanket over me, and Tushar tucked it in tidily. Hopefully even someone peering directly into the auto would see no trace of me. Though if Tushar kept fiddling.... “You’re giving me away.” “Now I’d never do that to you,” he said serenely. My nose was very close to his crotch. “I could always undo....” His hand crept down but I grabbed it. “Behave, you nuisance.” “You’re so unkind to me. Lalit, tell him he’s mean.” “Tushar, behave. Javen’s our guest, not your pet.” “Can’t he be both?” I squeezed the hand I had trapped. “Behave, I said.” “Make me.” As Ursemin turned on the auto’s motor and pulled out of the parking spot, Tushar

undid his safety harness, and wriggled down into the seat well. “What are you doing?” I asked, now just a little irritated. “Um, see, I think this would be more comfortable.” I sighed in exasperation, but then realised the brat’s plan was to lie on top of me. “Also against the law, you know. No safety harness.” “You’re not wearing one,” he breathed against my face. “Now, isn’t this better?” He had the blanket over us both, and now his legs were entwined in mine. “Don’t you care what Lalit thinks?” I whispered. “He’s used to me. Are you angry with me, Javen?” I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight, hoping like hell Ursemin didn’t brake hard or that at least the back seat collision devices were in excellent order. “You’re utterly incorrigible.” “Oooh, I like that word. We say,” he leaned up to lick my ear and murmur into it, “lilhila fon.” “Should be your stage name,” I said grumpily but that only made him laugh, and squirm maddeningly against me. ~~~~~~~~ “I don’t even need to ask, do I?” Madan said as I walked in next morning. “That little swagger says it all.” “Hush.” “And the smug grin.” I pointed at him. “Jealous.” “Not my type, Javen. And my wife is all I need. How did they take the news?” I shrugged. “About as well as you can expect. I’d be happier if Ursemin would hire guards, but he’s operating on a tiny budget. The concert run finishes in a few days. A lower profile will help.” He swung his comm screen around. Tushar’s cheeky smile was splashed across it. “No sign of interest flagging so far.” “No, because Ursemin’s still selling concert tickets and music downloads. Once he stops the promotion, Tushar can fade into the background.” Madan grunted. I chose to ignore the scepticism I sensed from him. “Did Sushri—?” My phone went. “Good morning, Shardul,” I said politely. No point in being the one at

fault. At least, not first. “Javen, why didn’t you tell me Benay had been released on bail?” I sat at my desk. “Because I only heard yesterday and I didn’t think it made any difference to you. How did you hear?” “I have contacts at the police station, of course. Why has he been released?” “Because he’s wearing a tracking tag and the assault charge is likely to be dropped for lack of evidence.” “What? Damn guko Kelon police!” “Actually, the damn guko Kelon police are doing their job. Besides, Benay didn’t do it. My talent told me.” “Explain.” “I spoke to him. He said he didn’t do it. I believe him.” I didn’t feel a need to be forthcoming. “Just like that.” “Just like that. Did you want an innocent man to go to prison just because he’s a Kelon?” A long pause while Shardul ground his teeth. “It leaves Tushar exposed.” “Yeah. Already explained that to him. His manager can’t afford guards, so if you’re so worried, you guys need to keep an eye on him. I can’t, not all the time.” “No one expects you to. We can handle it.” “Maybe, but I have a personal interest in the matter now.” “Being?” “Use your imagination, Shardul, and if you’re thinking of ticking me off for violating one of your precious Nihan, I’m telling you now, I’m not in the mood.” “Spirit forfend I offer you any advice.” “Not on this, anyway. You’re not a disinterested party.” A sarcastic laugh came down the phone speaker. “Your sexual antics don’t concern me in the least, and Tushar is an adult. I only called because I need Lalitchandra Ursemin’s personal phone number. If you don’t want to give it to me, I’ll ask someone else.” “Sure I can give it to you.” I read it out to him. “Anything else I can do for you?” He hung up without saying another word. I growled at the phone, and looked up to find Madan staring at me. “Problem?” I asked.

“You weren’t very nice to Shardul-ji. He’s connected to our biggest client, and I thought he was a personal friend.” “He is. But he’s also an interfering sod, and I’m not jumping to his command. He thinks I should stay away from Tushar, and I’m not going to.” “Fine, fine. But—” “But?” I snapped. “Nothing. Forget I spoke. You were asking something before he called?” Madan, a wiser man than me, knew when to back off and let me figure out for myself when I’d been a dick. But I didn’t call Shardul back to apologise. One, because he despised apologies, and two, I wasn’t sure what I was apologising for, other than being a tad curt. He wasn’t disinterested, though that had never stopped me asking him for advice before. But this was different. This was purely personal, and Tushar being indigenous didn’t make it Shardul’s concern, any more than Shardul deciding, purely hypothetically, to start screwing a Kelon would be my business. I’d wish him all the luck in the world if he did. Sure you would, Javen. A lot of this delusional stuff going around. Pissed off or not, Shardul was as good as his word. As I turned up at the theatre, two men I recognised from my work at the Institute discreetly took my picture. I waved and they waved back, so I walked over. “You guys are going to be careful, right? Take the wrong picture of the wrong man, and you could get your heads kicked in.” “We’re not without resources, Sri Javen,” the older one said. “But mainly we’re here to record and report—and raise the alarm.” “Cops know what you’re doing?” “Shardul-ji said he told them.” Both looked Kelon on account of their mixed heritage. They could easily be mistaken for reporters. “Good. Be careful, okay? You have my number?” “Shardul-ji gave it to us. Uh, and told us you’d be around.” “I bet. I’m going back with Sri Tushar to Sri Ursemin’s house.” “He, uh, told us that too.” “Oh, did he. Okay. We should be leaving in under an hour in Sri Ursemin’s auto. I’ll be keeping my head down, but I’ll be with him, so you won’t need surveillance at the house.” “No, but Shardul-ji said you might....” My empathy filled in the blush the night covered. “Might?”

“Be too busy to keep an eye on things,” the other man said in a rush. “Talkative, wasn’t he? Do what you like. Uh, but thanks.” They nodded and I left before Shardul’s instructions could tear away the remained few shreds of my dignity. Big-mouthed lawyer bastard. If I’d done something like that to him.... Oh, to hell with Shardul. I had two big handfuls of loveliness waiting for me inside, and Shardul could go screw himself. Tushar behaved himself this time, and contented himself with dragging us both to the seat well so he could cuddle me without being seen at the window level. “Tired?” I asked, stroking his face. “Hmmm, yes. It’s been a long run.” “A successful one,” Ursemin said from the front. “Yes, but hard work, even though I love it.” “What’s next?” I asked. “Touring, maybe. More recordings and interviews. Lalit will know. I just concentrate on what I’m doing right now. I wish I had time to write more songs. I could write one about you, maybe,” he said, giving me a sly look. “Yeah? What would it be about?” He put his mouth near my ear. “About my dark-eyed lover with the beautiful voice and the big—” “Huh, sounds more like boasting than music.” He laughed. “Can I help it? I wanted to tell the audience tonight about my wonderful man. Didn't think you’d like that.” “Not so much ‘like’ as ‘not think it would be wise’. Don’t give people another reason to hate you, sweetheart.” “Say that again.” “Sweetheart.” “Oooh.” He rippled with pleasure. “All the way down to my toes, I felt it.” “Brat.” “Now that’s not nice. People would hate me for being with you?” “It’s another excuse. Not that they’re exactly queuing up to sleep with me, but my father’s position....” “I keep forgetting about that. You’re just Javen.”

“I keep forgetting about it. But I’m not the press, or a racist lunatic. We have to be careful.” “Why are people so full of hate? Who cares what colour our skin or hair is? We’re all the same underneath.” “Beats the hell of me, sweetheart. I can’t fathom why anyone would hate you.” He sighed and nuzzled against me. We sat like that all the way back to Ursemin’s house, and when we arrived, I had to shake him a little to rouse him. “Oh dear. I need a shower to wake me up.” “I’ll wash your back.” He fluttered his eyelashes at me. “That’ll certainly wake up parts of me.” Ursemin opened the auto’s door for us, giving no sign he’d heard any of this. “I’ll heat up the food while you two get cleaned up.” Nothing seemed to shock him. Perhaps he’d seen it all before. Half an hour later when we emerged flushed and breathless from the shower in Tushar’s flat, Ursemin had the table laid, and a big jug of iced fruit juice waiting for us. “Ordered in again, I’m afraid. Once the concerts are over, I’ll have time to cook.” Tushar threw himself into a chair and pulling me down beside him. “I can cook too!” “Yes, you can, but I’d rather you wrote more of your music, which I can’t do, while I fed you, which I can.” “Yes, Lalit. You always make so much sense.” “That’s why I’m the manager, Tushar. Javen, have some—” A shockingly loud crash of glass and splat of splintering wood interrupted him. I was already headed for the ground, dragging Tushar to the floor with me. “Down, down! Everyone, stay down, that’s gun fire!” Ursemin dropped and I urged him and Tushar to get under the heavy table, not because it would really protect them, but because it would hide them. I called the emergency number and gave the address. “We have shots fired. Repeat, gunshots fired into the house. There are three civilians here, exposed.” “Don’t move, stay down. Police on their way.” Another bullet slammed into the room, smashing a lamp high on the wall. Tushar shivered and huddled close. “They’re trying to kill us?” “Don’t know. Don’t move from under here, okay? Stick with me, and do as I say. Lalit? You too.”

“Yes.” Seconds ticked by. Sirens in the distance, and shouting—neighbours, possibly. Had Shardul’s team heard? Were they under attack too? I called Shardul’s number. “It’s Javen. Someone’s shooting at Ursemin’s house. We’re inside, police on the way. Make sure your people are safe.” “Are you?” “No one’s hurt. For sanity’s sake, keep down if you’re headed here.” “Got it. Thank you.” The room was now silent except for our harsh breathing. No more bullets, though the sirens and shouting were louder now. “Is he still there?” Tushar whispered. “What if he comes in?” “Too many people watching. It’s probably a long-range shot. The police are here. We’re safe,” I said, hoping it was true. My phone went. “Sri Ythen? Lieutenant Dawil. We're outside the house. Is everyone safe?” “Yes. No one’s come inside. We’re in the living room. Front room with the broken window.” “All right. Don’t move. We’re coming in. Tell your companions we’ll need to check you all.” “Understood.” I looked at Tushar. “The police are coming in. When they do, I want you to obey every command quickly and silently. They’ll want to check none of us have guns, or are concealing the gunmen. It’s standard.” “But we’re the victims,” Ursemin said. “The gunmen could be in here, forcing our cooperation. It’s okay. Follow my lead.” Seconds later, the front door burst open. “Police! No one move!” “In here, lieutenant. We’re under the table.” I made the others stay where they were until the police entered. “Come out from under there. Slowly,” Dawil said. “Now, through to the kitchen. Stay low, move quickly.” I led the way, and once we were safe away from the front windows, I identified myself to Dawil. “I’m Javen Ythen.” “I recognise you, Sri Ythen. Can you vouch for the others?”

“This is Tushar Latangi Omanand, and his manager Lalitchandra Ursemin. Neither is armed. I am. I’m carrying a licensed weapon.” “Show me.” I revealed my holster, showed my ID. Dawil was satisfied that none of us was the gunman. “We need to get you out of the house. Whoever it is, could come back. Sri Omanand, you’ve received threats before, I understand.” “Yes! But not guns!” Tushar shook as I put my arm around his shoulders. “Why won’t they stop?” “Try to stay calm, Sri Omanand,” Dawil said. “We’ll take you to the station now to get your statements, and then if you want, to a safe house for tonight. Sri Ythen, will you staying with them?” “Yes.” “Javen, you don't have to, and the press—” “Damn the press. I’m sick of lying. It’s not making you any safer.” I hugged Tushar close and dared Dawil to comment. Dawil told Tushar and Ursemin to pack for a couple of nights away. As I watched Tushar sort out his clothes, I called Shardul again, hoping he might be able to suggest a safe place for them to stay. “There’s a boarding house here in old Hegal, run by good friends of mine,” he said. “Between our surveillance and the police, we should spot any problem coming.” “I’ll let them know, if you can arrange it. These people have a problem with a Kelon visitor?” “Not if they know in advance,” he said, giving nothing away in his tone. “No word on who is doing this?” “No one saw a thing. The shots came from a distance, most likely. Your people okay?” “Yes, thank you. Javen....” “What?” “I’m glad you’re safe.” “Thanks. I, uh, better go. They want us out of the house.” “Of course. Call me when you know what they want to do.” Tushar looked at me as I put my phone away. “What did he say?” “He has a place you can use, if you don’t have something better.”

He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. “So long as it’s away from windows.” I went to him and held him close. “Scary, I know.” “Guns, Javen. Guns and knives. What did I do to these people?” “Nothing, sweetheart. Come on, sooner we get out of here, the happier you’ll be.” Someone had tipped off the press, and as we were led out to the police vehicles, camera lights stripped away any chance we had of making a quick getaway. Tushar waved bravely to his fans and the photographers. I held him defiantly, staring at the reporters while refusing to answer any of their questions. Ursemin scurried ahead of us, but insisted on Tushar and me getting into the police auto first. Cameras lit us through the windows until the police drove us clear of the house and the street. Tushar didn’t like the police station. Couldn't blame him, considering the experiences he’d had with the police, and the reason he was there. Dawil, to be fair, was pleasant and sympathetic, though whether my presence had anything to do with that, I didn’t know. He spoke to Ursemin separately, then took our statements with a minimum of fuss and reassurances that stopped short of promising outright safety. When we’d signed the record, I asked, “What about Phanindra Benay?” “The stalker? Ruled out. We’ve had him under surveillance and he was the first person we checked. He’s at home. Hasn’t left his house all evening. Oh, and there’s a note here that I expect Lieutenant Mahre planned to pass on—Benay’s got an alibi for the knife attack. We rechecked shop surveillance footage and he was near his workplace at the time Sri Omanand was assaulted. No way could he have done it.” “Sri Tushar,” Tushar murmured. “So there are two groups at least who hate me. Maybe three.” The slight hysterical edge to his voice alerted us, and I pushed the chai Dawil had arranged over to him. “Drink this. You’re safe here. The police will make sure you stay safe.” “That’s right, Sri Omanand...Tushar. The orders are to maintain around the clock surveillance on you until this case is resolved.” “What if they never catch the people? I’ll have to live under guard? I won’t. No one can live like that.” I put my hand on his back. “Shhh. A few days, anyway. It still might be to scare you, make you end your concerts.”

“Regrettably, high profile entertainers such as yourself do run an added risk,” Dawil said. “It’s late, lieutenant, and Tushar was already tired before all this. Can we wrap this up?” “Of course. Have you somewhere you wish to stay, or do you need us to arrange a safe house?” “Shall I call Shardul-ji?” I asked Tushar. “Please. Or a hotel. You can guard us in a hotel, can’t you?” he asked Dawil. “Yes. We just need you out of Sri Ursemin’s house so we can investigate it forensically.” Tushar blinked at me, as if the words meant nothing to him. “Looking for clues,” I said as I pulled my phone out and pressed the fast code for Shardul. “Did I wake you?” “I was waiting for your call. They would like to stay at the boarding house?” “Yes, though Tushar said they could stay at a hotel if it’s too much hassle.” “No, my friends insisted he stay here.” He gave me the address, which I entered into my reader. “I’ve told them who to expect. I’ll meet you there.” “Thank you.” I put the phone away. “We’re all set.” “Then let’s go. Thank goodness there’s no show tomorrow,” Ursemin said, staring at Tushar in concern. “Lieutenant, you’ll keep us informed?” “Either I or Lieutenant Mahre will, personally.” “Governor’s orders?” Dawil straightened and glared at me indignantly. “Not that I know of, Sri Ythen. I don’t know if anyone’s told your father about this...development.” “Sorry, that was unfair of me. Time to get to bed.” Ursemin caught up with us outside. “I’ve been taking calls. I think the best way to handle all the media interest is to hold a press conference tomorrow. Javen, if you wanted to be there, you could—” “Make my position clear?” “Yes. A little cooperation now in exchange for being left alone later.” “Good idea. I’ll think about it, but now I want to get this one,” I said, nudging a sleepy Tushar, “and you somewhere you can put this behind you for a few hours.”

“I don’t know what we’d have done without you, Javen.” “I’ll arrange a ride for you to your accommodation,” Dawil said, coming up behind us. “Sri Tushar, Sri Ursemin, you mustn’t leave that place without informing the police stationed outside. Sri Ythen, we have to assume you might be a target too. Uh...you and Sri Tushar together may make a more tempting target.” “If they want me to go home, I will.” Tushar looked up at me and shook his head. “I won’t let these people drive you away. Stay...if you want.” I kissed him. “I want. There’s your answer, lieutenant.” “As you wish.” Tushar rested against me for the short journey, rousing only once to ask his manager if he’d contacted Tushar’s father. Ursemin confirmed he’d sent a message of reassurance. “Javen, what about your family?” Tushar asked. “I sent my brother a quick message earlier. Everyone else will hear on the news.” “Oh.” He squeezed my hand but asked nothing more. I was glad not to have to explain. Shardul was waiting for us, just as he promised, and Sri Ramanuja, his friend who owned the little hostel. I introduced them to the officers accompanying us. Sri Ramanuja then took the police, Tushar and Ursemin inside to check the rooms, but Shardul put his hand on my arm to stay me. “This worries me greatly,” he said. “You and me both. Benay’s categorically cleared. Solid alibi for both attacks.” “But that’s not what worries me. We’ve been monitoring network chatter, as you suggested some time ago. There was no increase in discussion or virulence before either attack, and until the press broke the story, nothing after, either. Whoever it is, isn’t boasting about it on the usual channels.” “It might not be racially motivated.” “Hard to imagine what else it could be, unless Tushar has two sets of sexually obsessed stalkers.” “Not as unlikely as you think, Shardul. Look, it’s late, and I should go in and let him settle in. Thank you for this.” “It was for all of you, of course.” “Sure. I’m thanking you for my slice. Um, Ursemin’s going to arrange a press conference. I’m thinking of attending, going public with...you know.”

Shardul stiffened, concern and a little anger coming from him. “You’re making yourself a target. And him,” he added, though almost as an afterthought. “Dad made me a target when he became governor. The press already know about it, so anyone who wants to take it amiss, can do that without any more help. But if we give the press a few tidbits, that’ll buy them off for a while. I wasn’t asking for your permission.” “I’m not offering it. I’m merely expressing concern.” “So noted.” He pursed his lips in irritation, so I added, “But I appreciate it. I know the risk, but I want to protect him.” “You’ve fallen fast.” “And hard. He’s very special.” Shardul bowed. “Then may the Spirit bless your relationship, and guide your path. Good night, Javen.” “’Night, Shardul.” He headed off up the street towards his home, pride and disappointment radiating from his straight-backed and always elegant figure. I wanted to call him back, have it out properly with him about Tushar, but what point would it serve? I didn’t want Shardul to hate me over this. He was important to me in so many ways, even if he’d firmly closed off the one way I’d gladly have taken with him. I rubbed my face. Time for this later. Tushar needed me, and I needed him and a good night’s sleep. With any luck, our mystery attackers would kill themselves out of guilt and leave a handy note explaining their motives, and then Tushar could go back to his normal life. Whether I ever would, I had no idea. ~~~~~~~~ Madan said nothing as I stomped into the office, threw off my coat, and fell onto my chair with a sigh. “What?” I snapped. “I watched the press conference. I thought you handled things well.” “That won’t be what my family think. Fortunately I don’t care what my family think. Tell me something normal.” “My daughter’s pregnant.” “Really? Wow.” Guiltily I remembered I’d not been the least support to Tara lately, nor had I done anything about finding my own place to live. “Okay, that’s pretty normal. Uh, and congratulations. But I meant about this place.” “Javen, it’s never normal in here. Where’s Sri Tushar?”

“Back at the hostel, resting. Writing music, probably. He’s under guard. The police have got nothing. Nothing. The shooters used ceramic bullets, so no way of tracing them from that, and no one saw a thing until the window shattered. We think it was fired from the roof of an unoccupied house a little way up the street.” “Not a very accurate place to pick someone off.” “If that’s what they’re doing. I get the feeling it’s all about warning Tushar off, but there’s been no messages, which you’d expect. Shardul says there’s been no increase in chatter from the whackos either.” Madan tugged his ear as he considered this. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sound more like a jealous lover than a racist.” Could it really be that simple? “Tushar’s ex! He said he’d broken up with him rather messily, but...beloved reason, don’t tell me they missed something that obvious.” I reached for my phone. “But of course, until two days ago, they thought they had the perp.” I spoke into the phone. “Yeah, Lieutenant Mahre or Lieutenant Dawil? Thanks.” I looked at Madan as I waited to be connected. “Still, no note, and Tushar doesn’t connect it with him. But he said his boyfriend...hello, lieutenant. My partner’s just brought up something and I wanted to know if you’d followed it up. Tushar’s ex-lover apparently didn’t want him to come to Hegal to perform. They broke up pretty hard. Anyone checked out where he is? No, don’t know his name. He lives in Tushar’s hometown. I’m not with him right now. Sure. Anytime.” I closed the call and tossed the phone onto my desk. “They didn’t even know about the guy. Mahre says he’ll chase it right up. Cursed insanity, is this the answer?” “Makes as much sense as any other theory. Um, we do have some actual paying work to look at, if you’re up to it.” “I’d better. The kids are back next week. Please, let this all be over by then.” “And which deity is to answer your prayer, Javen?” I made an extremely rude gesture, to which he responded by grinning and sending a stack of messages over to my account. I did my work like a good little business owner and employer, and even managed to carry out some moderately responsible conversations, but my mind was on Tushar and the possibly vengeful ex-boyfriend. When I had done enough to satisfy conscience and my hard-working partner, I called Tushar at the hostel. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” “I’m bored. Come play with me.” I laughed. “I wish. Did Lieutenant Mahre call you?”

“About Mitul? Yes. But it can’t be him, Javen. He’d never fire a gun.” “Jilted lovers do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally. And it might be someone he’s asked to scare you off. So if you see him or anyone from back home you recognise, you call me, or call the police.” “None of my people would do such a thing.” It wasn’t worth upsetting him about, at least not until we had some idea if this Mitul was in Hegal or not. “What are you doing for lunch? I can’t get away until supper.” “Someone from an entertainment channel is coming to take me out. Nice of them, isn’t it?” “Yeah, altruistic as hell. So you’ll be on the media feeds again.” “Looks like. Have you seen the footage from this morning? You look so handsome. And your family...um....” “Yeah, um. Let’s just say my looks won’t do much for my reputation in their eyes. My brother’s family will be excited.” “I want to meet them. How wonderful to have a twin brother. That’s a great blessing, you know.” “I sure do. Once this stuff is behind us, I’ll introduce you.” “Yes, let’s not drag them into it now. Do you miss me too, Javen?” “Jealous brat, yes, I do. But I have a very boring job I have to do so I can pay my two hard-working assistants, so don’t even think of tempting me away.” “Me? I’d never.” But the gale of laughter that followed called him a dirty liar. “Will you see Shardul-ji soon? I didn’t have a chance to thank him last night.” “I might, and I’ll pass the message on. I have to go. Be careful when you leave, okay?” “For you, I will. ‘Bye, Sri Sexy Voice.” Madan caught my grin. “The lad certainly makes you happy.” “Doesn’t he. He’s so...full of life, and no malice in him at all. It draws people to him. I wish my parents weren’t so bigoted. I know he’d charm them.” “Some people are resistant to all our charms,” he said. “Tushar’s doing great things for the indigenous reputation. If he opens doors for more of our entertainers, we’ll owe him a huge debt.” “Yeah. Speaking of owing....” I made another a call. “Shardul? Thought you’d like to know the police are chasing another possible line of enquiry—Tushar’s ex. That might explain the lack of chatter.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” “And it would mean it’s not racially motivated. That’d be good news, right?” “Indeed.” “Shardul, I’m trying to be nice here.” “Oh? Sorry, I’m distracted. I hope this is the answer.” “Yeah, me too. Oh, and Tushar sends his deep gratitude for the accommodation. I owe you.” “Not on his account.” A slight frostiness in his voice warned me not to get into that. “Javen, I need to go. Have you thought more about my cousin’s design practice?” “No, but I promise I will. When this thing with Tushar is over.” “I can hardly wait. I must go.” Only when he hung up did I realise there were two ways of taking what he’d just said, and I scowled. “Ah now, poor Tushar’s good influence only lasts until Shardul-ji has a go at you.” “Don’t you have clients to see, Madan?” “Certainly. After lunch. Until then I’m content to watch your changing moods, like the passing of clouds in the sunset.” I had no answer to that which wouldn’t lead to me stomping out of the office in a temper, so I made another rude gesture and turned my chair around so he couldn’t watch my ‘clouds’. Damn nosy partners. Lieutenant Dawil caught up with us in the little restaurant in old Hegal where we ate supper under the watchful eye of one of Dawil’s officers. Tushar invited him to sit, and he did, looking quite cheerful. “Good tip off, sergeant. Sri Tushar, your ex-lover is here in Hegal. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?” “Mitul? No, and neither has Lalit.” Ursemin nodded to confirm Tushar’s words. “Is he the one?” Ursemin spewed tension at my empathy. I guessed the new, unsuspected threat wasn’t exactly good news to him. “We haven’t located him yet,” Dawil said. “If he makes contact, you must get in touch. If he’s behind all this, the willingness to commit violence worries me a lot.” “He was never violent. Loud, yes.” “He hit you,” Ursemin said. “In that last fight. You had a black eye for weeks.”

“But I provoked him. He was angry.” I touched Tushar’s arm. “Someone who hits the one they claim to love isn’t to be trusted. It wasn’t your fault.” He ducked his head. “I don’t believe it’s Mitul, that’s all.” “It’s early days to assume anything,” Dawil said. “There still could be two separate threats, and even if this man is behind the attacks, you must remain cautious. I’ll leave you in peace, for now.” Tushar poked at his food after Dawil left. “It would be nice to know who it was. But I don’t want to think it’s him.” “Better someone with a connection than a random attacker. At least that makes sense, right?” “I suppose.” Ursemin grinned at his charge. “Now, don’t be like that, Tushar. You concentrate on your music, leave the rest to me and the police, eh?” I winced at the man’s tactlessness. “It’s not something anyone can easily ignore, Lalit.” “Yes, but what’s the point of fretting? He’s well protected with you and these gentlemen, and no one would attack us here, right?” I didn’t argue because it would worry Tushar. “The main thing is you’re safe here,” I said to my lover. “Deal with anything else when it happens.” He nodded, then pushed his plate away. “I don’t feel so hungry now. Anyone want it?” “You should eat,” his manager said. “But if you really don’t want it, I’ll pinch a little.” I squeezed Tushar’s thigh under the table. “Maybe you need cheering up. I know a way to do that.” The sweet smile he gave me was all the reward I needed. Reluctantly, because I really did have work to do and because it made it easier to whisk Tushar to where he needed to be and back, I stayed away from him during the day and only caught up with him after his performances. Five more shows, and then Ursemin had planned a couple of months of Tushar recording, writing songs, being interviewed, and attending events like the midyear festival in Arni, a huge indigenous religious celebration for which he’d be the headline act. Ursemin had also lined up a number of promotions like visiting prominent stores at the owner’s request, to keep interest in Tushar high. Left to me, I’d have taken him away up to the mountains for a good long rest, but Ursemin told me bluntly this was a crucial time for Tushar’s career and an absence now

would mean lost momentum which he might never regain. Since Tushar’s career meant so much to him, I bowed to Ursemin’s judgement, though I’d damn well override him if I felt Tushar couldn’t cope. No career was that important. Still Ursemin had grudgingly allowed me to take away Tushar for a long weekend as soon as the concerts were finished, and when we returned, Lieutenant Dawil thought they should be able to move back to Ursemin’s house, though still under police protection. Things would get back to something approaching normal, not that anything about being with Tushar was normal. Or boring. I’d never had a lover so much younger than me. I envied Tushar his endless energy and optimism, and tried to keep a lid on my naturally gloomy nature for his sake. The difference in our ages and temperaments worried me more than the racial divide. So far, Shardul’s predictions about how bad it would be for Tushar to have a Kelon lover, had come to nothing. Staying away until later in the evening meant I could finally catch up with Yashi and Tara. I felt bad they’d heard about my new relationship over the news channels, but Yashi was as pleased as anything for me. “He’s a lovely kid. You looked terrific together.” “How did the boys take it?” I asked Tara. “Fine. A little teasing at school, but they’re used to it because of your father. The other teachers at school though.” She whistled and shook her hand as if it was burned. “Jealousy coming out of their ears. I tell you, I’ve never been this popular. Every single staff member asked me for concert tickets and autographs. I had to tell them that my mean brother-in-law hadn’t even got me an autograph.” “Hey, I didn’t know you wanted one. I’ll arrange it. Tell me what you want. No concert tickets this time around, but next time, sure. He loves giving things away.” “Will you bring him over?” Yashi asked. “We’d like to meet him. As family, I mean.” “As soon as the concert run is over and the police deal with the guy behind these attacks. He wants to meet you. Dad must be spitting blood though.” “Oh, didn’t you read? Someone managed to get a statement out of him. He said, ‘I wish them both happiness.’” “Really? He said that on the record?” “I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like him at all.” “No, it doesn’t. Don’t believe him either.” “Come on, Javen,” Tara said, reaching for her water glass. “Your father’s not going to wish you bad luck, is he?”

“You’d be surprised. And don’t tell me he wants a banis son-in-law because I’ll haul you off to the hospital and have them examine you for insanity.” She laughed. “I’m not that crazy. But Tushar has a way of making people forget he’s indigenous.” I didn’t think he’d be thrilled to hear that. “I think—I hope—he’s making a few people reassess their automatic responses. But I don’t think he’s enough to break down my parents’ attitudes.” “I bet Tushar’s performing at the residence before the end of the year,” Yashi said. “If you ask me, he’s risking overexposure. Everyone’s talking about him, you can’t watch a media feed without seeing him, and his music is in every store you walk into.” “This is his moment, his manager says. When it’s over, someone else will take his place. Can’t blame him for taking what he can now.” “No. And he does write catchy little tunes. I found myself humming one during surgery today. Embarrassing.” Tara grinned. “So much for ‘it’s girly music’, then. He made me turn off the music in the auto the other day, saying he didn’t want to be seen listening to it. Hypocrite.” Yashi threw up his hands. “I told you, you can’t get away from it! It’s like a plague.” “I am not telling him that,” I said in exasperation. “Honestly, I hope you can be politer than that when he comes to visit. What a way to talk about my lover.” “He better get used to it. This household is a zoo,” Yashi said, and his wife promptly hit him over the head with a cushion for being so rude. “See?” “Maybe we should elope.” “Don’t even think about it,” Tara said, wagging a finger. “If you two get married, I’ll be queen of the school. Maybe even of Hegal. I plan to milk it for all it’s worth.” I buried my face in the cushion Yashi had tossed away from him. ~~~~~~~~ Tushar’s ex was still on the loose, but there had been no more threats or attacks, and I hoped whoever it was had been spooked. Or just given up maybe, when he’d seen he hadn’t been able to stop Tushar performing. We all took precautions, of course, and concertgoers were all searched for weapons, but as the last concert approached, the tension in all three of us lessened. Unwisely, most likely, but it wasn’t possible to live stretched to the limit without constant reminders of the threat, and our mysterious assailants weren’t cooperating. On the night of the final concert I packed for my weekend away, planning to surprise

my lover by taking him to a luxury resort two hours from Hegal by maglev that very evening. Then all I had to do was spend some precious time with my nephews before their bedtime, and then with their parents. I brought up my plans to start looking for land in earnest once I came back to Hegal, but we got talking about Tara trying to decide whether she should stay teaching or whether now would be the time to move to home-based work, writing materials for use in schools, something she’d been wanting to do for a while. “The thing is, I’m worried about being bored. You know what it’s like, Javen. When you were off for all those months.” “I didn’t have a job, and I didn’t have the right attitude. I could have been doing so many things with that free time.” “But if I’m working from home, I’d have to be here.” Her phone went. “Sorry. Mind if I...?” Yashi and I waved at her to go ahead. “Hello, Hita. What? Hang on.” She turned to me. “Javen, switch on the media screen. Something’s happened at the concert hall!” I jumped up to find the remote, and switched it on. “Which channel?” “All of them. Look!” Police and other emergency vehicles surrounded the concert hall, and a reporter was in the middle of talking about what had happened. Something about an evacuation. “She says there was a bomb.” Beloved reason. “I’m going down there. You guys stay here.” “Javen, it’s dangerous.” “And it’s my lover. I’ll call you.” I gave Tara a quick kiss on the cheek, and Yashi a grim smile, before rushing out to the garage and into my auto. I called Ursemin’s number, but it was busy. I tried Shardul. “What’s happening, do you know? I heard it was a bomb.” “Not a bomb. A bomb threat. No one’s in danger.” “Oh. I’m halfway there. Where are you?” “At home, of course. What can I do? For that matter, what can you do?” “I don’t know, I just wanted to be there. It’s a natural reaction.” “Of course. Talk to you later, Javen.” Now I felt like an idiot, but it was close enough to when the concert would have finished that turning around and going back to the house was a waste of time. I could drop Tushar off for a shower and return for my bags later. I had to park some distance away from the concert hall, because the police had closed off a number of streets. Everyone was relaxed though, so the threat was either not real or

dealt with. “Why can I hear music?” I asked one of the cops preventing vehicle access to the parking area. He grinned. “Go see for yourself. I’d take a look but I’m on duty.” Even more confused, I followed my ears. As I drew closer, the press of emotions from a huge number of people made my head throb—but why weren’t people angry? Or worried or even just curious? All I was getting was...happiness. Excitement, even lust. What in the name of sanity was going on? I rounded a corner, and I had my answer. Tushar up on a makeshift stage constructed from two large recycling containers, and on the ground in front of him, musicians and dancers. Now I was closer I could hear him singing. Unamplified, so only the instrumental music carried further than this, but the crowd could hear him because they were clapping and dancing, swaying to his catchy song and the insistent rhythm of the drummers. Of course. He hadn’t wanted to disappoint his fans, so he’d taken his show to the people. I looked around and saw smiling police officers, and a number of reporters and cameramen recording the happy crowds. I moved away, not wanting to be part of the show, content to watch Tushar doing what he did so well—charming the pants off everyone. My phone went. “Javen, it’s Lalit. I wanted to let you know there might be a delay in getting away tonight.” “I’m here, watching him. What happened?” “Where are you? I’m over to the right of where he’s singing.” “Can’t see you. Too many people. I heard there was a bomb threat?” “Yes, direct to my phone. The police said it was serious and cleared the place. But Tushar jumped up on those bins and started to sing, and the dancers joined in and....” “Suddenly we’ve got Hegal’s biggest street party. He sure knows how to turn bad things to good.” “He’s an amazing talent.” “Know who sent the threat?” “No. The police are trying to track it but it could have been made from anywhere. At least it was the last show.” “And I figure people will think they got the best of the lot. How long will he keep this up?” Two elderly people dancing in each other’s arms, jostled me, lost in the music and the moment. I moved out of their way. “For at least an hour. And then I’ve arranged an interview live with the news channels.

So...I don’t think you can leave tonight. And in fact, it would be good for his career if he could be here this weekend.” “But I’ve booked and paid for it all.” “Please, Javen. Someone’s trying to wreck his career, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen. You can go away next weekend, I promise. Please?” “Lalit, you can work him too hard.” “I know, but he wants this. It’s not just me.” I looked at Tushar singing his heart out, and felt the affection and enjoyment pouring out of the crowd towards him. “Okay. But next weekend, no compromise.” “Of course. Damn! That’s the festival. I forgot, Javen.” Damn it, so had I. “Okay. The weekend after.” “Without fail. Swear on my mother’s life.” “I believe you. So, I guess there’s no point hanging around this evening.” “No. It’ll be very late by the time he’s finished. I’ve arranged for him to be in a hotel this one night to avoid disturbing our hosts. He’ll call you tomorrow.” “All right. Can you let him know I called and...well, I called.” “Of course, Javen. He’ll make it up to you.” The disappointment was hard, but when I remembered how many times I’d blown Kirin off because of work, I supposed this was no different. I called Yashi. “Hey, plans have changed, and I have a fully-paid up luxury weekend I can’t use. Want to take the family away for the weekend, my treat?” “Javen, you can’t! That hotel was expensive.” “So? I can afford it. I’m sending the details to your account, and I’ll be home soon. The kids can sleep all the way there.” I gave him the booking reference, and the time they needed to be on the maglev. He could make it easily, and the boys would love it. Tara could do with a break too. “Don’t worry about the house. Just pack, go, and I’ll watch everything.” “Owe you one, brother.” “Don’t be stupid. Go.” Tushar was still giving it his all. After this performance, and running the press gauntlet, even he would be too tired for sex. I felt like a bad boyfriend for not hanging around, but having to worry about me was a stress he didn’t need. I walked back to the auto, and with luck I’d see my family before they headed off.

Oh well. Penalty of dating the famous. Now I could start land hunting sooner than I planned. ~~~~~~~~ Tushar called me breathlessly at lunchtime the next day to apologise for wrecking my plans, and to thank me for being so understanding. “Did you see the interview? Did it sound okay?” “Sweetheart, you stole the nation’s soul. If you haven’t convinced half of us to convert to udawa I’d be amazed.” “But I just said what I felt. I don’t hate them. I forgive them, but I wish they would stop because it’s hurting other people.” “Tushar, do you know how rare such statements are?” “No?” I laughed. “You’re adorable. Can I come over now?” “Oh, I wish you could because I miss you. But a rich man up north has asked me to perform at his daughter’s birthday party.” “What man?” “Um, some mining person? I didn’t catch his name. It’s all been arranged really fast, and he’s flying me, all the dancers, and the musicians up to his estate in an hour.” “Wow. What’s that costing him?” “A lot of money, I know that. Apparently he offered whatever price Lalit asked. I wanted to see you but I couldn’t take the chance away from the others. It’s good for them.” “Of course it is. Good for you too.” “Well, yes. No security worries. No Javen though. I feel terrible. I ruin your weekend and now I won’t even see you.” “Hey, it’s only a couple of days. I’m going with you to the festival next weekend and Lalit promised me faithfully your sweet little arse is all mine the weekend after. So be ready because I will be very, very desperate by then.” He chuckled. “We’ll be tearing each other’s clothes off. Just you and me? No one else for three whole days?” “Four, and yes. No managers, no phones, no interviews.” He sighed. “Sounds like bliss. Malu, I have to go.” “‘Malu’?”

“Ask Shardul-ji.” “Such a brat. Have a good time, sweetheart.” “I won’t. You won’t be there. But I’ll do my best.” He blew a kiss down the line to me. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re back.” Ditched again. I messaged Shardul. “What does ‘malu’ mean?” “Lost your new dictionary?” “Want definition from dictionary of Shardul-ji.” “Very well. ‘Malu’—insipid, sickly, trite endearment used by rogues to tempt women into bed. Assume worst of anyone using it.” Bastard. He knew very well who’d used it. “Want to have lunch?” “Thought you had plans.” “T invited to perform for rich man up north.” “How sad. Don’t feel like being replacement entertainment. Dirty weekend not happening?” “In two weeks. Ursemin promised on life of his mother I can take T away then.” “U expanding into pandering. How exciting.” “You are very rude.” “Yes. Also very busy. Find another playmate.” Not an unexpected response, but I hadn’t seen him as a replacement. I hadn’t had a chance to have lunch with him in a couple of weeks, and prickly sod though he was, he was also one of my dearest friends. I hoped he’d eventually accept what was happening with Tushar because losing Shardul from my life would hurt very badly. Though I wouldn’t give up Tushar to keep Shardul happy. No one had the right to ask that of me. I didn’t see Tushar for three days. At least, not in the flesh. Every time I read a news page or watched a media feed, either I’d see his face, an interview with him, or hear a reference to him. Kind of how my relationship with my father worked these days, which wasn’t a precedent I wanted to follow. His caravan swept into Hegal after a triumphant and much-reported stint at the estate of the filthy rich owner of Denge Consortium, Kaushik Denge, but I only had time to meet him at the air transport hub and give him a hug and a kiss—to the delight of the waiting reporters—before Ursemin dragged him away for a guest appearance on one of the media channels. “See you tonight?” I asked. He looked at Ursemin, who shook his head. “Another party booking down on the coast.

Two nights. I’m sorry, Javen.” “Oh well. I hope you’re banking some of the money and not spending it on loose men and drink.” “I never drink,” Tushar protested. “But the loose men?” He smacked me on the shoulder then rubbed up against me. “I’m only loose for you,” he whispered, which had a regrettable effect on my libido, but fortunately wasn’t overheard by any of the reporters. “When you come back, your cute little arse is mine.” “Always yours!” he called before twirling for the benefit of the cameras and giving the waiting press a big smile. I went back to work, grumpy and horny. Madan and the kids kept clear of me, though Madan did offer the opinion that my Tushar cranky face was nearly as frightening as my Shardul cranky face. I asked him if he wanted to see my Madan cranky face and he decided he had business outside the office for the next hour. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn Ursemin was trying to keep us apart, because as soon as Tushar returned from the coast, Ursemin had him booked solid for shows and interviews and promotions. All I could hope for was the night before he was due to perform at the midyear festival in Arni, because he had to sing at sunrise, and so we were all staying in a local hotel the night before. That, Ursemin wouldn’t be able to cancel. The invitation to perform was of profound religious significance for Tushar, as well as an extraordinary honour for one so young. At least there were no more attacks, bomb threats, or even nasty letters. The constant police presence probably had something to do with that, and since Mitul hadn’t been located, we were no closer to discovering who had fired the shots at Ursemin’s house or knifed Tushar. The bomb threat had been made from a street station and could have been a prank, except for the fact it had come direct to Ursemin’s phone number. A number which was relatively easy to locate, but the theatre’s was even easier to find. Lieutenant Mahre was of the opinion any further attempt to hurt Tushar would come at the festival. “I’ll be with him there and back,” I told him, “and I’ll handle the driving. But while he’s on stage, I can’t cover him.” “The force will handle that. I don’t suppose you could persuade him to wear body armour on stage?” “Not a chance. I think it’d be sacrilegious or something.”

Mahre sighed. “Then we’ll have to rely on observing the crowd. It’s usually goodnatured and peaceful, so anyone acting suspiciously will stick out. But I want you to get him away from the venue as soon as the performance finishes.” “I think he might fight me on that, but I’ll explain.” “Good. If he had to pick one of us as a lover, at least he chose a decent bodyguard. Not sure how much longer I can justify full-time protection though. If we don’t catch the perp soon, and there’s no further active threat, I think the chief will say the cost will have to be borne by Tushar’s management.” “Can’t argue with that—though, on the other hand, what will the chief say if Tushar’s killed on your watch?” Mahre winced. “Don’t. I’d probably leave the country to get away from the angry mobs. Just don’t let him be killed on your watch, sergeant.” “I have a personal stake in that not happening, lieutenant.” I grinned to myself when he flushed. I drove to Ursemin’s house, and Tushar threw himself at me the moment I stepped through the door. “Missed you, Javen! Oh you taste good. Let’s make love!” “Er, sweetheart, Lalit—” “Oh never mind him. We’ve got an hour, he said. Lalit? We’ll be back.” He dragged me into his flat to make sure I understood just how much I’d been missed. He threw off his clothes, managing to look desperate and elegant at the same time, then grabbed my hands and planted them firmly on his perfect little butt. “Fuck me, Javen. Please.” “Sweetheart, we’ve got a long trip ahead of us. Wouldn't it be better to wait until we get to the hotel?” “Uh uh. Want to feel you all the way until we get there.” Well, what could a man say to that? After I cleaned up my lover and smeared some soothing ointment on his bottom—he had a way of making me get a little carried away—we found Ursemin in the living room, deeply immersed in his reader, dealing with messages. “All ready?” he asked distractedly. “Is it time to go already?” “More than time. Have you arranged the supper basket?” “Kitchen.” He roused himself. “But you’re driving. When will you eat?” “I’ll grab something now, have more when we arrive. Time to get moving, kids.”

The traffic into Arni was the worst I’d ever seen on roads in the region, even though most of the indigenous visitors would be coming in by train and shuttle. Fortunately, we picked up a police escort half an hour outside the town, which eased us relatively quickly straight to the hotel’s carpark. Tushar’s aubade meant we had to set the alarm for a completely uncivilized three in the morning. While I stumbled around using the bathroom and trying to wake up, Tushar sat on the floor completely still, meditating. Some ritual he needed to do, apparently. The police drove him and his manager to the site. I followed a little later on the one of the buses that had been laid on for worshippers staying in the town. By the time I arrived, the site was packed, but oddly silent. Most of the Nihan sat on the ground in the predawn, meditating and praying by candlelight, the people setting up the stage working quietly, respecting the ceremony to come. I found a spot at the back, and hoped it all wouldn’t take too long, though I also looked forward to seeing what this festival involved. All my indigenous friends anticipated it as a time of exchanging news and small gifts, and communing with nature. A bit of nature tried to crawl up under the cuff of my salwar, and I swatted it. Now I wished I’d brought a cushion and a rug. The ground was bloody hard and cold. Just when my butt had turned to stone, and I had started to give serious thought to going back to the hotel, a deep, pure bell rang three times, the note ringing out to the hills in the distance where sun rays were just barely visible over the range. As the last note died away, people got to their feet, still in total silence, and I obeyed, if only to give my arse some relief. A low murmuring followed—some kind of group prayer, I supposed. And then Tushar’s voice. I hadn’t even seen him come onto the stage. He stood there alone. No dancers, no musicians. Just him and a modest amount of amplification. A song I hadn’t heard before, alien but beautiful, in his clear, unearthly voice. A song of praise of the Great Spirit, he’d said. Could have been about the price of tus eggs for all I knew or cared. Didn’t change the exquisite sounds or the harmonics that plugged straight into my spine. People began to join in, but not along with him—in response. Another prayer, then, with set phrases and answers, all sung. The faces of the audience in the slowly brightening light held peace, even ecstasy, and for the first time, despite the huge crowd around me, my empathy didn’t make me feel like I’d been bludgeoned with a thousand dead fish. The whole thing lasted about ten minutes, and ended with a startling and slightly weird round of applause—for Tushar? But he was clapping too. The sun for bothering to get out

of bed? No idea. That was apparently it for the serious part of this festival. Now for breakfast, served at dozens of tables over to the right. In an hour or two, there’d be a short concert, with Tushar performing again, and after that, I would take him home. I queued up and received a heaped plate of idli and sambhar, along with a mug of spicy chai, then wedged in behind a cheerful family of six to tuck into the free food. None of the Nihan were bothered about my scrounging or my mingling with them, though most Kelon visitors had set up their own picnics around the edge of the site. Of course, a lot of the Nihan probably assumed I was mixed race, which I was, in a way. I smiled at people and was smiled at in return. No suspicion, no hostility. I felt welcome, and wondered why it couldn’t always be like this. The police keeping a close eye on things were a reminder that it couldn’t, though there were a dozen benign reasons for their presence, and Mahre had said they very rarely had any crowd trouble at such events. But today, at least some of the cops were there to make sure no one took a shot at Tushar or any other indigenous performer. I kept an eye for people I knew. Shardul was here, somewhere, as were Jyoti and Chandana. The Hegal indigenous population would be holding their own local celebrations today, and this event here in Arni ran for two days. Many from the city would come out tomorrow to join in the fun. I was kind of sorry not to stick around, but there was always next year, when worrying about someone trying to kill my lover hopefully wouldn’t be a problem. Damn, the food was good. Almost worth being awake at this ridiculous time of the morning, and I had to admit, the cool air and clear light did make everything look very pretty. When I was a cop, if I’d been up this early, it either meant being at the scene of some personal tragedy, at the hospital waiting to talk to a witness, or being stuck at my desk holding the fort until shift change. Being here, I almost got the appeal of camping, but my numb arse told me that was just crazy thinking. I headed back to return my plate and mug, but just as I deposited them, my phone went. “Good morning, Shardul. Enjoying things?” “Yes, but that’s not why I’m calling. I just spotted your boyfriend’s ex. Mitul.” All my senses went into overdrive as I scanned the peaceful crowd. “Where? And where are you? I’m by the dish collection.” “About a hundred metres behind you and to your left, facing the stage. He’s about ten metres from me. Turn on tracking. I’ll keep him under surveillance.”

“No, go to one of the police.” “Javen, I don’t want the police involved, not until I’ve spoken to him.” Damn him. He didn’t trust the cops for good reason, but if Mitul had a weapon and the intention to use it, I didn’t want Shardul anywhere near him—or Mitul anywhere near the stage. “Don’t get any closer to him.” “I won’t. Hurry.” Shardul had sent me the code to allow me to track him by GPS. I followed the directions on my phone, and in less than thirty seconds, spotted him just as he spotted me. He signalled discreetly, and nodded to his right. I looked around, and saw our quarry. I called Shardul. “You really should tell the police. He might be carrying.” “He might be, but he won’t use it here. Trust me.” “Shardul, he’s violent and dangerous.” “Trust me, Javen.” I hissed in annoyance, but I couldn’t argue with his request. I made my way to his side as quickly as I could, and then we moved in. Shardul took Mitul’s arm as I got in his face. “Mitul? Want a word with you.” He tried to shake Shardul loose. “Who are you? Let me go.” “Talk to us or talk to the police.” “The police? What the hell for?” He said something in Nihani to Shardul, who answered before turning to me. “He says he has no idea what we’re on about.” “Of course he doesn’t.” But strangely, my empathy backed up his claim. “Look, Mitul, we just want to talk to you. It might be a misunderstanding but it needs clearing up.” Shardul said something else in Nihani and the kid nodded. Shardul led him away from the crowd over past the mobile toilet facilities. “Okay, what’s this about?” Mitul said, glaring at me, dripping suspicion and fear. “Tushar. Someone’s been trying to kill him. Surely you heard,” I said. “I did but...you think it’s me? Why?” “You broke up with him in a bit of a rage,” Shardul said. “Gives you a motive.” “That’s stupid! I came to Hegal to try and talk him into coming back with me, but when I saw how successful he was, I knew I couldn’t compete with that.” “So you tried to scare him into coming home.”

“No! I love him. I’d never hurt him.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You gave him a black eye.” “Because he punched me in the kidneys. We had a fight, sure, but it wasn’t just me. Is he saying I did this? I’d never...a knife, a gun? That’s insane.” Shardul looked at me. Reluctantly, I had to admit, “He’s telling the truth. But the police still want to talk to him.” “I’m going back home tomorrow. Can’t you just let me go?” The ex-cop in me said no, the empath said yes. “Where are you staying in Hegal? Can anyone give you an alibi for the attacks?” “I think so. I didn’t even arrive in Hegal until after he was hurt. That’s the reason I came to the city.” “Why didn’t you try and contact him?” “He blocked my number and I didn’t have his address. And...well, I knew it was hopeless.” He was as downcast as he looked. He wasn’t our man. “Okay. This is what you do. Shardul and I will take you over to the police so you can make a statement. If you’re telling the truth and have an alibi, that’s the end of it. So long as they know where you are and can contact you, and you act as innocent as you claim to be, then you won’t have a problem.” “I’m innocent,” Mitul said. “And I’m here with friends.” “I can act as your legal representative,” Shardul said, “unless you have someone else.” “The police can take your details and arrange for you to come in for an interview later,” I told him. “Going to them now will show good faith. Okay?” “Okay.” I didn’t blame him for being scared, but we couldn't just let him go on his way either. The officers on duty dealt with the matter as I’d predicted, helped by Shardul’s presence and my reassurances. Mitul would be subject to some unwanted surveillance until he left the festival, which was unfortunate, but at least he could enjoy the rest of it unmolested. As he walked off, I muttered, “Bugger.” “Back to mysterious racists as the most likely suspects.” “You don’t sound convinced.” Shardul frowned. “Walk with me. Away from—” He jerked his head at the crowd.

The sun was up completely now, but the air was still cool, though scented with delicious cooking smells. “I’d come back just for the food,” I joked. “There are many paths to the Spirit,” Shardul said deadpan. “Javen, these attacks. Does nothing about them strike you as odd?” “Just about everything. The lack of threats, the lack of obvious suspects, the lack of follow up—” “The lack of any serious intent to harm too. Almost as if someone wanted to make it look like Tushar was in danger, without putting him in any.” I stopped and stared at him. “What are you trying to say?” “What do you think?” “Are you saying Tushar arranged to have himself painfully cut up by a mad knifeman? That’s ridiculous. I saw him. He wasn’t faking how frightened he was, or in how much pain.” He pursed his lips. “Then I won’t say any more. I value your friendship too much to fight over this, and this festival too much to spoil it.” “Thanks a lot. I’m sure Tushar will be grateful you care so much too.” He stiffened. “I don’t want to argue. But did you know Lalitchandra Ursemin’s mother died ten years ago?” “So?” “So nothing. Blessings of the day.” He folded his arms and bowed, then walked away to be quickly swallowed up by the milling crowd. What the hell? “Fuck.” A woman turned and gave me a reproving look. I smiled in apology, but I still wanted to kick something. My enjoyment of the event had fled, so I took myself off away from those having more fun so I could think. Once I’d cleared the tents, I found myself alone, and a tree root made a slightly better seat than the ground. Shardul hadn’t seen Tushar after the knife attack. Or Ursemin. Ursemin was horrified, worried out of his mind, and Tushar.... I’d seen many victims of random assaults, and every one of them had that same shocked, sickened look about them. You couldn’t fake it. Besides, Tushar still had nightmares about it, and you definitely couldn’t fake those. So what if Ursemin had been a little loose with the oaths he made? It wasn’t a life or death matter, and so far as I could tell, he meant to keep his word. Shardul had chucked a

bit of ‘proof’ at me that no one could be reasonably expected to take seriously, and then left in a huff because I hadn’t instantly thought Ursemin a villain on the strength of it. Shardul wasn’t a disinterested party. I had to remember that. He liked to pretend to be the logical, objective lawyer, but he was as ridden by emotions and delusions as anyone else, and he had a bug up his arse about me being with Tushar. And Tushar himself, so it looked like. I rubbed my eyebrow. Shardul could give me his special brand of headache when he wasn’t even there. The thing was, racists were only one answer. Could be another stalker. Could be a jealous performer. Could be a critic who didn’t like Tushar’s music. Hell, this could all be about Ursemin, and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if that was a route we’d overlooked. Attack Ursemin’s biggest act, and he’d suffer. It had been Ursemin’s house someone had fired a gun at, and the bomb threat affected him as much as Tushar. And Ursemin surely had more enemies than Tushar—the guy had been in the management game a long time. Just as I made my mind up to ask Ursemin about this on the drive back, music started up behind me—the concert beginning. That meant I had about an hour before the police gave the three of us a lift back to the hotel and I collected the auto. Plenty of time to think of how to ask Ursemin about this without pissing him off or upsetting Tushar. In the end it was nearly three hours before we cleared Arni’s limits and hit the main road. The concert ran over time, with Tushar and the other performers giving multiple encores, and then he’d spent over half an hour meeting his fans and admirers. The police hadn’t wanted to force the issue so they’d let it go, in the interests of not causing ill-feeling. Tushar was in his now familiar post-concert mix of emotional high and physical exhaustion, and chattered away, demanding to know what we’d thought, reliving every moment of the admittedly enjoyable concert. If anything, he was more hyperactive than usual, making it hard to concentrate on driving and keeping an eye out for bad hats, and impossible to talk to Ursemin about something as serious as motives for hurting him. I’d have to let it go until Tushar collapsed, which would take a couple of hours—or vigorous sex, which wasn’t an option right now. “I’m starving,” he declared suddenly. I looked at the GPS. “There’s a rest station about twenty minutes from here. Want me to stop?” “Can we? I had a little breakfast, but I was too excited to eat much. Now I could eat the upholstery.”

“Lalit? Any problem with that?” “Not at all. I could do with using the bathroom myself.” The road was clear and I’d seen no one following us. I’d just keep an eye on everything, and my weapon handy, but I could see no reason not to stop. We still had nearly three hours of driving ahead of us. A few minutes later I pulled into the rest station. Two other autos were parked there, but it all seemed pretty quiet. “Okay, make it quick and don’t go wandering around, Tushar. In and out, eat in the auto.” “I understand. Lalit, my paycard, please?” Funds provided, Tushar dashed into the small eatery. Ursemin headed over to the toilets. I thought I may as well pick up some food too, something I could eat while driving. As I queued up, Tushar, already finished with his purchase, asked me to hold his food. “Sorry, I need to piss, Javen.” “Be quick and I’ll see you back at the auto.” I kept an eye on him even while I was served. He waited until Ursemin came out, before going into the toilets,. Only one cubicle, obviously. “You don’t want something to eat?” I asked Ursemin as he headed to the auto. “I had a huge breakfast. Those Nihan sure can cook.” “They really can. Think Tushar will be asked to perform there next year?” He shrugged. “No idea. The offer for this came at very short notice. I want him to do more mixed events. Don’t think playing to his own people is going to give him the boost he needs.” I got into the driver’s seat and opened one of the snacks I’d bought. In the back seat, Ursemin had his reader out again. Tushar emerged from the toilets a minute or so later, and I readied myself to drive off, but a man standing by a black auto near the toilets suddenly smiled at Tushar. “Damn it, someone’s recognised him. No, don’t stop and talk to him— Tushar!” I got out, ready to yell at him to hurry up. The man grabbed Tushar’s arm, dragged him with surprising speed towards his auto, and threw him into the back seat. I ran towards them, but the guy pulled a gun. “Stay back!” With other people around, I couldn’t risk it. “Someone call the police!” I shouted. “Tushar’s being kidnapped.”

The black auto roared out of the car park, tearing down the filter lane and onto the highway. “Call the police!” I yelled again, and dove into my own auto. “Lalit, call for help! Tushar’s been abducted by the men in that black auto. I’m going after them.” “Sanity, no!” I activated the emergency signal with one hand, the engine with the other, and made the wheels scream as I accelerated out. I had to keep that black auto in my sights until the police could block the road. I fed the identification plate details to Ursemin as I drove, and a description of the man I’d seen, but I had to let him do the talking to the cops. The black auto had reached deadly speeds and I needed all my concentration and training to keep up without killing anyone else. Something hit the front of the vehicle, and the control panel lit up with warnings about damage to lights and sensors. “Shit, they’re shooting at us.” I had to fall back. If they made me crash at these speeds, other autos would be involved. “Lalit, tell the police the kidnappers are firing weapons.” He spoke urgently into his phone. The black auto suddenly jerked to the right, down a filter lane and onto a smaller road. “Where the hell are they going?” Another bullet hit the hood and shards flew up over the windscreen. Ceramic bullets again. “How long before the police get here?” “They said a few minutes. They’re tracking us.” “Whoa! They’re stopping. The door’s opening...they just threw Tushar out!” The black auto sped off. I slowed down and brought my vehicle alongside where Tushar lay, and leapt out. He looked dazed but unhurt except for some grass stains on his clothes and a minor graze to his arm. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” “N-no. Get me out of here, Javen. I’m scared.” Ursemin had the backdoor open, and tugged Tushar into the backseat. “I’m driving back to that rest station,” I said, turning the auto around and heading back at speed the second the backdoor closed. “Tell the police. Tushar, stay low. Both of you, stay down below the windows.” The kidnappers were long gone, but I wasn’t going to hang around to give them another chance to come back and pick Tushar off. The police caught up with us as I approached the rest station, and escorted us in, surrounding us in the car park. I identified myself, then went to the backseat and pulled Tushar into my arms. “Are you really okay? I’m sorry, I should have protected you.” He buried his face in my neck. “My fault. I’m sorry.”

An officer poked her head through the open door. “Sir? We need to ask some questions. Step out of the car, please.” Two hours later, Tushar, Ursemin and I were in the back of a police vehicle being driven back to Hegal. My auto had been impounded for forensics to go over. The kidnappers’ auto had been found abandoned not far from where they’d released Tushar— the vehicle had been stolen from Hegal the day before. Tushar had only been able to give vague descriptions of one man, the other having worn a mask. He’d been too rattled to concentrate on details. There was something fishy about it though. How had they known we would stop where we did, when we did? The only people who knew we planned to leave early were the police and the three of us. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Shardul—I’d forgotten to. I’d seen no one following us, though there could be a tracking device on my auto. If that was the case, the level of sophistication in the attacks had just gone up several levels. Why would someone want to kidnap Tushar anyway? He could have been killed in the car park if that was the aim, but as an object for ransom, did they imagine he was worth much money? Without trying at all hard, I could think of half a dozen people—including me and my brother—who would fetch a higher price on account of our families’ wealth. I badly wanted to talk to someone about it, but Tushar was in shock, clinging to me in silence, while Ursemin stared grimly ahead, radiating worry. Calling Shardul would be on the insensitive side. So I held Tushar tight, and rolled the available facts over in my mind. I didn’t like what they were telling me. I stayed at Ursemin’s house long enough to put Tushar to bed and assure him I would be back later. Ursemin said he had someone to see across town, and with the house once again under heavy police guard, Tushar could be left safely. I asked for a lift home, and Ursemin agreed. But once we came to the city centre, I suggested he took a turn towards one of the parks nearby. “Javen, I said I had a meeting.” “You’re already late, and there’s something urgent I need to talk to you about. Something I don’t want the police or Tushar to hear.” His anxiety level went through the roof, but outwardly he remained calm and smiling. “Okay, no problem.” He turned left towards old Hegal, and parked up at a small children’s playground. “So, what’s on your mind?” “Why did you arrange the kidnapping today?” His hands clenched. “What are you talking about?”

“Lalit, only a handful of people could have told those men where we’d be, and when, and most of those people are cops. I don’t think Tushar would have done it, but I think you would, maybe to generate a little extra publicity for him.” He said nothing. “You can either talk to me now, or you can talk to the police. The whole thing stinks.” He sighed. “All right. Yes, it was fake.” I’d hoped I was wrong. “Why? Why endanger me, yourself, Tushar?” “You weren’t in any danger.” “They were shooting at us!” “They told me they would only fire at the auto. No one got hurt, did they?” “Not this time. But you ordered the attack on Tushar before too, didn’t you? And arranged for the shots at your house?” “No.” I slapped the console and he jumped. “Stop lying! Someone who knew about Benay had to have planted the knife at his house, or arranged it. That was you. You had only arranged dinner at your house that afternoon, which didn’t give the gunman a chance to plan, and anyone really trying to hurt any of us wouldn’t have carefully fired those shots above head height. It was all staged. Admit it.” He stared through the windscreen. “Tushar wasn’t supposed to be hurt. I only wanted to make sure Benay didn’t threaten us any more. He’s a dangerous man!” “A harmless obsessive, actually, and there were better ways to deal with it. Tushar could have died. The difference between a cut and a stab wound is only a matter of half a centimetre or so. Who did you order to do it?” “I can’t tell you.” “Fine, you can tell the police. Did Tushar know about any of this?” He glanced at me with wounded eyes. A bit rich, in the circumstances. “No. Of course not.” “He trusted you and you betrayed him.” “He trusted me to promote his career and that’s exactly what I’ve done. I never meant him to be hurt, but he’s okay now, isn’t he?” “Sure, if you don’t care about the fact he’s suffering nightmares and terrors. Are you out of your mind, Lalit? Playing games like this with people’s lives?” “It’s not a game, it’s a ruthless business, and Tushar’s fighting disadvantages other performers don’t have. I only want the best for him.”

“You have to tell the police what you’ve done. If you confess, you’ll be treated much less harshly.” His big hands fluttered with stress. “I can’t! If the reporters get hold of this, it will wreck Tushar’s career.” “I doubt that, but you can resign if that’s true. Make sure people know who’s really responsible.” “And then who would he turn to? You want him to go back to that miserable restaurant and let that talent of his be wasted?” “No, but I can’t just forget about all of this either.” “Why not? There’s no evidence of my involvement.” How could he not get how serious this was? “No, but once I tell the police what you’ve told me, they’ll start digging. You have a choice. You tell them, or I’ll tell them. If you leave it to me, it will be so much worse.” He chewed his lip. “Please, give me some time to minimise the damage.” “One day. That’s all.” “Two. Please, Javen, I need that long. It’s for his sake, not mine.” I heaved a sigh. “Day and a half. Not an hour more. The morning of the day after next, I’m going to the police myself to make a statement. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll beat me to it. And you better not come up with any more crazy ideas. Tushar doesn’t need stunts.” “I was only trying to do the best for him.” “Goodbye, Lalit. I’ll make my own way back from here.” He nodded and I climbed out. I really should have insisted he drove straight to the police station. A day and a half was an awfully long time to let two gun-waving, knifewielding criminals go free. Damn the man. He drove off slowly, and I walked toward the street to hail a taxi. What a mess. It might not wreck Tushar’s career but it would take the gloss off it, give people the excuse to denigrate him because of his race, even if it was his Kelon manager who’d come up with these schemes. I needed to talk to Tushar, so instead of asking the taxi to go to Yashi’s house, I told the driver to head to Ursemin’s place. The police nodded me through as an approved visitor. I found Tushar where I’d left him, in bed, apparently asleep, but at the sound of my footsteps, he opened his eyes. “Mmmm, Javen. I wondered where you were. Come here.”

I sat beside him and pulled him into my arms. “Feeling better?” I said lightly, though my chest felt drum-tight from stress. “Yes. So tired. And hungry! I never had anything to eat after all that.” He kissed me, and despite my anxiety, I responded as I always would to his lush mouth. “I need food.” “Kitchen then. I’ll make chai.” “Are you all right? You sound a little tense.” He rubbed his hand up my chest, and I smiled. “I’m okay, but I need to talk to you. Food first. Don’t want you passing out.” “Spirit save me, this sounds serious.” He grinned. “But I need to eat!” He leapt out of bed and headed to the main part of the house. I trailed behind him, feeling like a worm. I was the one who’d crush him because I insisted on doing the right thing, but he had such a talent. Did I have the right to make people think less of it because of what his manager had done? I boiled water for chai, while he devoured some of the snacks we’d bought at the rest station so many hours before, and then some fruit. I set his mug of chai before him, and sat down. “Lalit confessed the kidnapping was fake, Tushar. He’s told me everything.” He put his hand up to his throat in shock. “A fake? How...why?” “To generate publicity. And there’s more. He also arranged the knife attack and the gunshots on his house. Probably the bomb threat too.” He shook his head, sending the braids flying. “No. I don't believe you.” “Tushar, he told me himself. Ask him if you don’t believe him.” “I will. He’s a good man and would never hurt me.” “Not intentionally, no. He says he only wanted the best for you.” “And he does. Why do you want to hurt him? Hurt me?” I stared. “He tried to frame an innocent man for a serious crime. He ordered other people to commit serious crimes, and let Mitul be blamed for them. Damn it, he nearly had you killed!” “Not deliberately, and I’m fine now.” “And the others? Don’t you care about Mitul?” He looked down. “You said he had an alibi, and that horrible man is free now. I can go to the police and say I won’t press charges.” “That’s not the point—”

“What is the point, Javen? What do you want me to do? Rush to the police and throw Lalit in prison—the police who did nothing about Benay in the first place? Sack Lalit? No. He’s my friend and a good man, and ultimately, no one was hurt.” “He broke the law. If he doesn’t go to the police, I will.” “And I’ll tell the police you are lying out of jealousy. I won’t let you hurt him.” I stared in disbelief at this pretty creature I had come to care for so much, but who I didn’t actually at all. “The police will find the truth and Lalit will take you down with him.” “No, that won’t happen. He won’t let it happen, and neither will I. Javen, please.” His expression softened. “You don’t understand how hard it’s been to make people see me for who I am, despite my race. Lalit only wanted people to hear my music.” “People would have listened to you anyway. Your talent is more than enough. You didn’t need all this other stuff.” He pursed his lips and looked away. “I’m still going to the police.” “Fine. I can’t stop you. But I won’t help you. Please understand why.” “I do, but I don’t understand—” I gave up. “Lalit has until the day after tomorrow to speak to the police voluntarily. I’d be happy to go with him, or both of you to help. Trust me, it would be better for him to confess.” “I know. Does this mean the end for us, Javen?” “I don’t want it to be. But I need time to...make sense of a few things.” “You know this will hurt all my people, not just me.” “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’m giving the two of you this time!” He pushed his chair back as if to get away from my voice. “Please don’t yell. You’re scaring me.” “I’m sorry. Tushar, this is wrong. What Lalit has done is wrong, very wrong. I swore once to uphold the law, and even though I’m no longer a cop, I abide by that oath as much as I can. I can overlook some things, but not this.” “People will hate him and blame me.” “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll forgive him. He has to take responsibility.” I leaned down and kissed him, and he stroked my cheek. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” “And I don’t want to hurt you. Let me speak to Lalit. I owe him that much.”

“Okay. Call me when you’ve made your decision.” “Yes. Good night. Sleep well, malu.” I decided to walk part of the way home. I needed time to sort out my feelings before I inflicted myself on Yashi and Tara. Tushar was prepared to lie and cover up serious crimes, and no matter how I rationalised it, I couldn’t accept that. I loved him, or at least, I was falling in love. But a lover who lied? Who could brush aside crimes like this for his career? Could I trust him not to do it again? And if I couldn’t, then what? I called a taxi and five minutes later, it collected me from where I was walking. Tara threw herself at me as I walked in, almost sobbing with relief. “Oh Javen, we were so worried!” “But you surely heard on the news everything ended up fine.” “Stupid man. We were still worried. Come in and apologise for scaring us to death.” The twins jumped on me and told me off, as did Yashi, though he grinned while he did it. “Sorry, guys. I had stuff to do and I forgot.” “Uncle Javen is very naughty,” Madhu decreed. “Yeah, he’s bad,” Harshul yelled, right in my ear. “Yes, I am.” “No dessert for you!” he shouted. “Nope, none at all.” “That’s enough, kids,” Yashi said, still grinning. “Uncle Javen has suffered enough.” “More than you know.” He looked at me over Harshul’s shoulder, but I shook my head to deter him from asking. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Later, when the kids had gone to bed, I felt I could tell them the bare minimum they needed to know. After all, this crap would explode over my family too, if only peripherally. “The kidnapping was a publicity stunt,” I told them. “So were the other attacks. Tushar’s manager set it up without his knowledge.” Tara gasped a little. “I can’t believe it. Did you know?” Yashi frowned at his wife. “Of course he didn’t know. Look at his face. What did you do when you found out?” “Told them to go to the police, or I would. Tushar won’t give him up. Says he’ll lie to

protect him.” “I’m sorry, brother. Is that the end of you and Tushar?” “I don’t know. It’ll be hard to trust him. If either one of you lied about something this big, tried to cover it up, would you forgive them?” They looked at each other. “I don’t know,” Tara said. “It wouldn’t be easy. But for the kids, I’d have to try.” “Deep down, I’d always expect them to lie to me too one day,” Yashi said. “Tara being honest and moral is such a big part of what I take for granted...a lie like that.... I don’t envy you, Javen. The press will go crazy again.” “Yes, and this time, it’ll be unpleasant. That’s why I wanted to warn you. Tara, things could become hostile at school.” “I’ll cope. Poor Javen,” she said, stroking my arm. “You were so smitten.” “Yes.” And Ursemin had known that, which only made it worse. Every time my phone went the next day, I jumped. My nervous impatience infected the team and made them snappish and miserable, to the point where I finally told Prachi and Vik to go home. “I’m sorry, kids. I have no business taking it out on you guys.” “Can we help?” Prachi asked. “Is it about the kidnapping?” “Yes, sort of, but no, you can’t help. Thank you. Um...I might be foul tomorrow too. Just know it’s not you, and if I’m too appalling, just tell me. Or tell Madan and he can shoot me.” She giggled. At least the two of them left in a better mood. “I should shoot you,” Madan said. “But I’d rather you told me what’s up. This isn’t like you at all.” “If I tell you, it goes no further.” “I’d be insulted if I didn’t know you’re half out of your mind worrying about something.” “Yeah, sorry. It’s about Tushar and Ursemin.” I told him everything I knew or suspected. He wasn’t as shocked as I expected, and it made me wonder just how deep my self-delusion had gone. “Did I do the wrong thing? Giving them time to sort things out?” “Arguably, but who could blame you? But he hasn’t called.” “No. I don’t want to be the one who kills his career.” “You won’t be. You know you have to go to the police. Even if we weren’t ex-cops, it’s the only honourable thing to do.”

I knew that, but.... Damn you, Tushar, call! He didn’t. Neither of them did. I even thought about going over to encourage them, but in the end I didn’t. This had to be them doing the right thing because it was the right thing. I slept badly and woke depressed and resigned. No messages, no missed calls. Perhaps they thought I wouldn't go through with it. Perhaps Ursemin counted on my feelings for Tushar to stay my hand. If so, he was wrong. It was Yashi’s late morning, so he was still home when I woke up. “Running late today?” he asked as I stumbled into the kitchen looking for caffeine. “I, uh...have something to do before I go to work.” “You look bloody terrible. Are you sick?” “Heart trouble.” He straightened in alarm, but then realised what I meant. “I’m sorry, Javen. Do you want me to come with you? I can easily put things off at the clinic for a couple of hours.” So tempting to lean on my beloved twin. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Just...be home tonight?” “Of course.” He startled me by giving me a brief, strong-armed hug. “If he doesn’t do what he should do, then he’s not the man you thought he was.” “But maybe the man I thought he was, was too idealised for anyone to be.” “Expecting someone to tell you the truth isn’t idealistic. It’s natural. Have some chai. I don’t have to go just yet. Are you in a hurry?” Any delay was welcome. “No. Sit with me, Yashi. Talk to me about the kids, and the baby.” ~~~~~~~~ Lieutenant Mahre agreed to meet me, but as soon as I mentioned it was about the kidnapping, he said, “Uh, I thought you’d heard.” “What?” A sharp burst of hope filled me. “Has Sri Ursemin been in touch?” “Yes. Are you here to tell me the same thing? That he and Sri Tushar have gone to Kelon so Sri Tushar can take up a recording contract there?” I stared open-mouthed at him. “I guess you aren’t,” he said. “Let’s start from the beginning.” “No, wait...Kelon?” “Yes. Permanently, he said. On the first flight this morning. He let us know that he

wouldn’t be able to assist further in investigating the kidnapping or the other assaults. I told him it was unfortunate, but couldn’t be helped.” “That bastard. That sodding, unreasoning piece of shit!” Mahre’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Sergeant?” I told him what I knew, and what Ursemin had admitted. Mahre shook his head when I finished. “Cursed insanity. And you had no idea.” “None. Not until I made him confess when we got back to Hegal. I gave him time to come to you himself, but instead....” “He did a runner. Then I guess I close the files and tell the prosecutor to drop the charges against Benay. I can’t force an extradition from Kelon over something this minor. All I can do is flag the system for when they return.” “Which they won’t.” “Which they won’t,” he agreed. “Something of a shock for you, and a disappointment.” “He played me.” “He played a lot of people.” “Yeah. Want me to make an official statement?” “No point. I’ll make a note on the case files and if they ever come back to Uterden, then we’ll call you in. Otherwise, chalk it up to experience and get on with your life.” In a way, the two of them had saved me from what I’d dreaded, but they’d only done it by accident. I knew my welfare and feelings weren’t even on the list of things Ursemin had considered as he beat a hasty retreat. And Tushar? My silent phone was my answer. He could have sent a message before he left, or as he left. He hadn’t. I’d been a lovesick fool, and got all I deserved. I went to the office. The kids weren’t there. Madan had sent them out to do research and a few errands. “I thought you might prefer some privacy. It was on the news channel an hour or so ago. You didn’t see it?” “No.” I hadn’t been in the mood to look at the media feed because I knew it was bound to mention Tushar. “So it’s all over.” “I guess. Will you be all right?” I snorted. “This isn’t even the tenth worse thing to ever happen to me. About time I got back to some real work. So, what’s in the morning’s messages?”

Concentrating on the backlog worked surprisingly well as a distraction, and so long as I didn’t stop to think about anything else, I was okay. Prachi’s sympathetic look when she returned nearly did me in, though. “Okay, guys,” I said. “Just to clear the air. Yeah, I’m angry and I’m upset. I’ll live. You don’t have to dance around me and avoid using the T word, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hum any of his songs for a few days, and um...well, that’s it.” “If people ask about it?” “Tell them it’s none of their business. Or send them to me so I can tell them. Do you want to ask anything about it?” “How could he just leave? Did he care about you at all?” Prachi asked quietly. “Or was it all an act?” I had to take a deep breath before I could answer. “I don’t know for sure, and I’ll never know now. I’m as confused as you are, if it’s any consolation.” “He seemed such a good man,” Vik murmured. “I liked him.” “Everyone liked him. There was a lot to like. For the sake of the Nihan, maybe it’s better people are left to believe that.” “Believe in a lie?” Prachi said. “Not really a lie. Anything else? Okay, then back to work, and hopefully, back to normal as soon as we can do it.” I sent everyone home at five, despite their attempts to linger and cosset me. “No, I don’t need help, or watching. Go home and study if you’re so eager to keep working,” I told Vik. “And Madan, your wife deserves to see you before dark once in a while.” “Why? She already knows what I look like.” “Shoo. See you all tomorrow.” The office fell silent. I should have gone home too, but facing Tara’s sympathy without Yashi being there to take the edge off, was more than my cowardly self could bear. Instead, I read reports on the media feed, masochistically digesting the breathless commentary about Tushar’s sudden move to Kelon, and the pride in the homegrown talent who’d made it big. Ironically, he had. No one could take anything away from his achievements as an artist. The fact that one Kelon ex-lover would never be able to hear his music again without dying a little inside, was neither here nor there. The office door opened. “Sorry, we’re closed...oh. Shardul.” He leaned elegantly on the doorframe, backlit by the street lights. “Still at work, Javen?

You should have gone home an hour ago.” “Then why are you here?” He folded his arms. “Because I knew you would be, and I thought you might like to go out for a drink.” “So you can be snide at me?” “I’m off the clock. I’m only snide during office hours.” I snorted. “Sure. Yeah, why not? I have stuff to tell you.” “As do I.” “Fine. You're driving.” I waited until we were in a small tavern in the heart of old Hegal that Shardul had never taken me to before, but which he clearly knew well. He ordered beer for me, juice for himself, then looked at me expectantly. “How much do you know?” I asked. “Only that Tushar and his manager have gone to Kelon to pursue greater things. I deduced this came as a surprise to you since you didn’t mention it at the festival.” “Good deduction. But there’s a lot more you don’t know.” I told him all of it, then sat back. “Okay, that’s your cue. Say it.” “What?” “‘I told you so.’” “I would if I had told you everything I knew. Javen, I owe you an apology. A lot of this is my fault.” This was the last thing I expected him to say. “You put Ursemin up to this?” “No, not my fault in that way, though I’m not as surprised as you apparently were. I did, er, try to warn you.” “Yeah, you did. It’s freaking me out that you’re not rubbing my nose in it.” “Nice to know you think so highly of me.” I made a rude noise and ignored this nonsense. “It’s my fault because I never told you the truth about nulls. Or rather, what I know about them, which may or may not be the truth.” “I’m going to need a stronger drink if you keep talking like that.” I took a long swallow of my beer. “Well? Are they pathological liars or something?” “No. Actually, very little is known about them because they’re so rare, and the Nihan don’t practice psychiatric medicine in the way that the Kelon do. The need to classify people so precisely isn’t part of our system.”

“Get on with it, Shardul. Not in the mood for another chuma-bashing session.” He made a little hiss of irritation. “I’m not bashing anyone. Nulls have a reputation— and that’s all it is—for being somewhat morally...defective.” “Sociopaths?” “As I said, we don’t classify the way you do. I’m only telling you what the reputation is, and of course there may be a good deal of exaggeration. But throughout our literature, there are warnings to beware of them, for they lie charmingly, and have no conscience.” Was that Tushar’s real nature? “If that goodness was all an act, then I was well and truly suckered.” He shrugged. “How much was real, how much for the sake of publicity, I can’t tell, and we won’t ever know. The talent was real enough.” “Yes, it was. And you have to admit the sex appeal was real too.” Shardul smiled a little in agreement. “I thought him being a null was great. No more Kirins. No more freaked out lovers. But I hadn’t realised how much I depend on it now. I’ve lost the knack of reading people without it. He could have been faking it from the beginning, for all I know.” “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he was. But I feared he would always put career first, and he did.” I shrugged, and drank some beer. “I should have had more sense than to ignore the risk of that, and what you were saying.” “If I’d been a true friend, I’d have warned you more strongly. I didn’t...because I was afraid I would lose your friendship.” I set my drink down and stared at him. “You treat me like shit all the time. Why would I drop you as a friend over something like that?” “I do not treat you like ‘shit’, and keep your voice down. Detailing your faults for your own improvement is one thing. Standing in the way of an intimate relationship is another.” “You tried.” “I warned as best I dared, but not as firmly as I could have. Should have. So I blame myself.” I finished my beer and signalled to the waitress to bring another round. “I’d have told you where to get off.” “Yes. But I didn’t tell you that I investigated Ursemin and discovered he’d had another client who’d been stalked some years ago. He lied to both of us from the start, but by the time I knew all this, you had decided I was trying to keep you and Tushar apart. Which I

was. I asked my aunt if she’d speak to you but she felt it was best to wait to see how things developed. As it happened, events overtook us, and I, for one, am glad to see the back of the two of them. You deserve better.” The anger I sensed surprised me. Shardul was outraged on my behalf. Never experienced that before. “I’ve been thinking. The fact I’m an investigator wasn’t as important as who my father is, was it?” He shook his head. “Likely not, though that doesn’t mean Tushar didn’t develop real affection for you. Ursemin had to have tipped off the press that night you stayed over. I don’t blame him for making the most of whatever he could legitimately use, but I do blame him for targeting you and exploiting you. He took the things that make you precious to us —your loyalty, your bravery, your devotion to justice—and turned them against you. For that, I will never forgive him.” “You’re making me all teary.” He wrinkled his nose. “Trust you to spoil an honest declaration. I don’t know why I bother.” “Well, why do you?” “Because annoying and narrow-minded and, at times, downright lead-brained as you can be, you are also pure of heart, and a true friend to those you claim. And that is rarer than you can possibly imagine.” He sipped his drink, daring me with those brilliant eyes to mock what he’d said. To be honest, he’d taken my breath away. “So it wasn’t really about me dating one of your people.” “No, though my concerns remain that you must be aware of the risk to the other person. You must know what you ask, and choose someone strong-minded and tough because the danger is all theirs. Otherwise you’ll be in the permanent position of protector, which is both degrading and unequal.” “I’m only interested in a lover who’d be my equal.” “Then I’m delighted things didn’t work out with Tushar. He simply wasn’t good enough for you.” He was piling on the surprises tonight. “I suppose as my fiancée, you’d know.” He smiled at me over his glass. “Indeed.” And so a day that had started out as crappy as it was possible to do, ended better than I’d hoped. We talked as we’d not had the chance to for some time, not about Tushar at all,

but about relationships, and friendships, and how neither of us ever wanted to have to choose between a friend and someone we loved. I supposed it really was about Tushar, but we never mentioned his name. Shardul plied me with beer, but not to the point where I felt drunk, just relaxed, and free of the stress that had turned my neck muscles to concrete over the last couple of weeks. I’d missed this. Missed him. If Tushar had stayed, I might never have been able to talk so freely to Shardul again, because his concerns and my jealousy would have always left a strain. I’d had a lucky escape in more than one sense. After a couple of hours, I looked at my watch and realised I needed to go home to save worrying my family again, so he drove me back to Yashi’s place. “I suppose the house hunt is on again,” he said as we drew close. “I suppose it is. Can’t say I’m brimming with enthusiasm.” “Give yourself time to recover. You’ve taken a blow.” “Had worse.” “Oh yes, so very tough. For once in your life, take my advice. Give yourself time.” “Yes, sir, Shardul-ji.” He pulled up in front of the house. “Why do I bother? Don’t trip on the kerb.” “I’m not drunk.” “No, just your normal clumsy self.” I made a rude noise and opened the door. “Javen...I’m sorry this couldn't be what you wanted.” “It never would have been. It would only ever have been a substitute.” He looked at me quizzically, but I wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough to blurt out an explanation. “Thank you for tonight. And...for everything.” “Be at peace, Javen. Good night.” He drove off. I let the cool night air clear my head a little, and headed inside. The twins, already in their pyjamas, leapt on me as I walked in. Yashi looked like he’d only been home about five minutes, so I’d timed it well. I swung the kids around but not too much. “What’s this? Attacking your poor broken down uncle? Monsters, I tell you, horrible monsters.” “We’re aren’t monsters,” ever-correct Madhu chided. “We’re little boys.” “Same thing,” Yashi said, plucking them off me. “Now, ten minutes, and then bed. But ten quiet minutes, okay?” “Yes, Daddy,” Madhu said.

“I don’t want to be quiet. I want to ride uncle Javen again,” Harshul said. “How about we trade those ten quiet minutes now, for a ride tomorrow? Extra long, out in the yard. I’ll come home early.” My nephew eyed me suspiciously. “Promise?” “Promise. Deal?” “Deal! Yay!” Tara covered her ears. “Quiet minutes! Quiet!” “I think that is quiet by little boy standards,” I said and she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get cleaned up, and then listen to the bedtime story.” An hour later, peace reigned, and Yashi and I ate a late supper while Tara relaxed over a mug of chai. “Everyone was talking about Tushar at school, and wondering why you hadn’t gone with him. I said I hadn’t had a chance to talk to you. Bought me some time. What do you want me to tell them?” “Whatever you like. Tell them we broke up and he left to soothe his sorrow. Or that he left me for another man. I don’t care.” “But the truth is?” “I didn’t know they planned to leave, they lied to me, and it’s over, done, dead and gone.” “You don’t seem too upset,” Yashi said as he cut his meat. “Trust me, three hours ago, you’d had thought differently. A good friend and copious amounts of beer made a lot of difference. Now I just want to get on with my life and find my new house, so you guys can get on with redecorating.” They exchanged looks. “What?” I asked. “Um, Tara, do you want to go get the thing?” “Sure.” I frowned at Yashi. “What thing?” “Hold on and we’ll show you. Eat your dinner, you’re losing weight.” “Yes, Mum.” “I don’t wear enough jewellery to be Mum.” I grinned and forked some more food into my mouth. Tara returned but refused to show me what was in the rolled up paper she hid behind her back. “Finish eating and then we can look.”

“Everyone’s a nag today.” “Maybe you need it,” Yashi said. “Like I need a second arsehole.” “Javen, don’t use words like that. What will your niece think?” “That her uncle is crude and rude and nothing like her lovely mother.” She gave me a look. “You Ythen boys don’t lack for a certain rough and ready charm, do you?” “Nope.” I pushed my plate away and wiped my hands. “So, what’s the big secret? Don’t tell me—you’re having twins after all.” “Please don’t even joke about that,” she said with a shudder. “Yashi?” She cleared part of the table and Yashi unrolled what turned out to be a set of building plans. “Er, I appreciate the thought but I’d like to design my own house, guys.” Yashi cuffed my head. “This is our house, idiot.” “Oh yeah. Uh, but it’s already built.” “See, I told you he was smart,” Yashi said to his wife, who grinned. “Yes, it’s already built, except for this. Which is the bit of importance to you.” I peered at the lines and minute writing and all the measurements. “You're building another room?” “A studio apartment. For you. With your own entrance, parking and everything. And we’ll have a deck on top.” “But it’ll take up half the yard.” “Not quite half. We’ll sacrifice a little space from the garage, but gain the deck.” “But why?” “Not so smart,” Tara said. “Because we don’t want you to move, Javen. We’ve been trying to tell you but you wouldn’t listen. We like you here. We love you being here. We love you. So we want you to have your own place, at our place.” I stared at the plans, and then at my brother and sister’s smiling faces. “You’d do this for me? Really?” “Yeah. Really. Because the idea of you moving out makes me want to cry,” she said. “I haven’t dared to tell the boys you might leave. Please stay?” “Only if you let me pay rent or pay for the extension or something.” “We’ll sort something out,” Yashi said. “Joint ownership suits us, if it suits you. I don’t

care what we do, so long as you agree. Say yes, or Tara really will cry.” “In that case...yes. Though you’re both quite mad and I’m sure you’ll regret it.” “I know we won’t,” Tara said firmly, as Yashi put his arm around her. “All I’ve ever wanted was a home for my family, all of my family,” he said. “And you’re my family. Always will be, Javen. Maybe one day you’ll genuinely want to get your own house, maybe have your own kids. But while the only reason to leave is a bit of privacy and our new baby, then I want you here. Understood?” “Completely.” Tara hugged me, and Yashi ruffled my hair. “Completely bonkers,” I muttered, though I couldn’t stop grinning. “Have I told you lately I love you guys a lot?” “Not lately, but we took it as read. Celebratory glasses of...er, mugs of chai all round. Sorry, love.” Tara patted her stomach. “A few months without alcohol won’t kill me, and chai or wine, who cares? This is the best news I could have.” “This was a lousy day, and now it’s not. Thank you.” She kissed my cheek. “Always welcome. Never forget who your friends and family are.” I thought of Shardul, and smiled. “Nope, not ever again.”

Javen and the Bomb The glass office door crashed open, the late afternoon sun behind the intruder, hiding their face. I had my hand on my gun and was half out of my seat, before I registered the idiot bellowing “We did it! We won!” wasn’t some crazed random attacker, but one Shardul Hema Rishabh, a respectable and normally sensible lawyer who knew better than to burst screaming like a lunatic into an office full of investigators and ex-cops carrying weapons. “The...High Court case?” Vik asked quietly, as if he didn’t dare believe it to be true. “The High Court case. On every single point. We won. All of it.” Vik and Prachi whooped and ran over to hug Shardul, who hugged them back, grinning maniacally at me over their heads. Madan shook my hand, then clasped Shardul’s to pump it enthusiastically. “Well done, Shardul. Well done.” “Damn right,” I said. “Every point? That’s more than I hoped. Incredible.” I couldn’t remember seeing so many teeth in Shardul’s smile before. “Yes it is. So the drinks are on me, everyone. Come on, close up. I need a beer!” I wondered if he’d already started, or whether he was just high on sheer happiness. His arms still around my assistants, Shardul led the way out to wherever the celebrations were. Madan and I hastily closed up, even though it was an hour early, and raced after them. The news was out, and as we came closer to the Nihani neighbourhood, the streets were full of cheering indigenous, some weeping as they yelled their victory. It had been a long time coming, and no one had worked harder or sacrificed more than Shardul and his team. It looked like every Nihan in Hegal was trying to force their way into the little bar near Shardul’s office. I figured we’d be doing our celebrating out on the street along with almost everyone else, but I’d reckoned without Shardul. Shouting “Let me through, I’m a lawyer!” he elbowed a path for us through the crowd and into the bar. As soon as he appeared, he was grabbed and hoisted aloft, carried over the heads of the patrons and up to the bar itself where he stood like a conquering general. Which he was, in a way. “We won! Praise the Spirit!” He’d shouted in Nihani, but I knew enough of the language to understand it, and the roared appreciation of the sentiment. “Fuck the Kelons!” someone yelled, in Kelon. Shardul caught my eye, then pointed at me. “Present company excepted, of course.”

The bar fell silent. My position as the sole interloper was suddenly a little too conspicuous, but I just grinned. “Hey, I appreciate the offer, guys, but I’m saving myself.” The silence grew more...intense. “For Shardul,” I added, and the crowd exploded with laughter. Shardul shook his head at me, smiling. I shrugged and yelled for a beer. The Nihani are a sober, industrious and usually pretty orderly people as a group, but man, do they know how to party. Whether Shardul really was paying for everyone’s drinks, or the bar owner had given up in despair of trying to keep up with all the demands for booze, I didn’t know, but the beer was free, and freely flowing that night. When the Nihan get drunk, they dance a lot too. And sing. I even discovered an unsuspected tendency to warble a little myself. I was still moping after the disastrous relationship with Tushar, and this was just what I needed to snap me out of my funk. Under the influence, Shardul danced and sang too—perfectly, of course—and had a charming tendency to cuddle and hug anyone in reach. Including me. A lot. Fortunately he was too intoxicated and happy to notice my physical reaction, and in this crowd, no one was checking me out. “Oh!” he bellowed in my right ear after we’d been at it for a couple of hours. He had to bellow because nothing else could cut through the sheer volume of noise generated by hundreds of happy, intoxicated people. “Forgot!” He had his arm slung over my shoulder like this was his normal way of talking to me. I sure wasn’t about to remind him it wasn’t. “What?” “High Court ruled thingy. Um, empathy thingy.” “What? Shardul, what empathy thingy?” He stared into my eyes with his brilliant blue ones. “The ban on empathy was ruled illegal. You can be a cop again.” The bottom fell out of my stomach. “What? For real?” “Completely.” I blinked for a few seconds in utter shock. I hadn’t even known a challenge to the professional ban on empaths was part of the lawsuit. “Javen? Are you all right?” I hugged him. “Yeah. Thank you.” He didn’t push me away like I thought he would, so I shamelessly wallowed in his happiness. “Will you go back?” “Hell, how do I know? But now I can.”

He leaned back to grin at me. “Yes you can. We can do whatever the hell we want, right?” “Right!” A reveller grabbed his arm, and I let the hero of the moment go off to enjoy his welldeserved adulation. I needed a few minutes alone to adjust to the new world order anyway. I could be a cop again. In my head, I’d never stopped, but my life and career had moved on a lot in four years. I had a business, partners, employees. I worked with the Nihan in a way that wouldn’t be possible on the force, now I wasn’t so tightly constrained by regulations. But I missed being in uniform. I missed the excitement, the authority, my fellow cops. I missed being the one people turned to in trouble, and being able to make their worlds a little better, even if I was also often the one bringing bad news. And damn I missed chasing bad guys. Hell, maybe they wouldn’t want me back. I was pretty old now. My peers would have already climbed the promotions ladder and as only a former sergeant, I might even be below people I used to order around. “Javen, what’s up? Run out of beer already?” I grinned at Madan holding two mugs in his big hands, clearly taking precautions against a shortage. “Yeah, so share the bounty.” He passed one of the mugs over, and I put my empty one into a crate, one of many scattered around to collect the mugs. I took a long swig then wiped my mouth. “Shardul just told me. The ban on empathy has been ruled illegal.” He gave a low whistle. “By the Spirit. You can go back to the force?” “Can. Not necessarily ‘will’.” Madan’s intelligent brown eyes bored into me. Superficially, he looked Kelon, but he was Nihani through and through. Being set up with me was a big break for him, and I knew it. Same for Prachi and Vik. I answered his unasked question. “Look, it’ll take a while before I can do anything. The regs’ll have to be changed, all that. Probably the best I can hope for is being in the reserve. Whatever, I won’t make any decision that hurts any of you. And if I do go back, the business won’t be closed down. That, I promise.” “Appreciate it. But you must do what is best for you. Remember this though—you can’t cross the same river twice.”

“Yeah. It’s the wrong night to think about it. Tonight is all for you guys.” “And you. You’ve worked hard for our people, Javen. None of us who know you will forget that.” I lifted my mug. “To us, then.” “To all of us.” ~~~~~~~~~~~ Six months later ~~~~~~~~~~~ I couldn’t claim to have got to know the late Tanmay Kly well in my brief encounters with him so I couldn’t guess what he would have thought about the ceremony about to be held on his old estate this morning. His widow’s feelings on the subject were very clear. “Induma looks about to burst with pride,” I murmured to Shardul, pointing discreetly over to where the widow Kly was talking to my father and the other guests of honour. A naturally solemn woman, Induma hadn’t stopped grinning in the half hour we’d been waiting in the hall. “As well she might. This is a wonderful day for our people. One I never thought to see.” “No, no. You’re doing it all wrong, Shardul. You’re supposed to be cynical and mutter darkly about chuma fat cats using the indigenous people to put a gloss on their greed, and how things haven’t really changed at all.” He smiled serenely. “Another day perhaps. And you’ve said it for me. Denge Consortium is undoubtedly milking this for all it’s worth. But at the end of it, there will still be thirty engineering scholarships given to Nihani students, and another hundred for other specialties. That’s no small achievement, and Induma deserves every gram of pride she feels.” “As do you, Shardul,” Roshni-ji said. “It’s been a joint effort by the committee.” “Even Javen played his small part,” Shardul said, winking at me. I pulled a face and was glad, for once, that his aunt was blind and couldn’t see his nonsense. “You aren’t going to greet your father?” “Are you joking? We haven’t spoken in nearly a year. I was surprised his security didn’t veto my attendance.” “I dare them to try,” Roshni-ji said, radiating intense disapproval, her milky eyes turned towards my father. I could sense nothing from him at this distance, but maybe she

could. “The Kelon don’t tell us who we can or cannot have in attendance at our own events, on our own property,” Rupa added. “Besides, Javen’s no security risk.” “None at all,” Roshni-ji agreed. “Now, please excuse me. I must go and be social. Rupa, dear?” Her niece took her arm and the two of them went over to speak to the mayor of Hegal. Shardul and I made our way to the reserved seating behind the award recipients. I recognised one of the youngsters, and shook my head in silent disbelief. “What’s wrong?” Shardul asked. “Nothing. Tell you later.” I grinned to myself to see Darpak Charan all scrubbed up and looking nothing like the bane of my existence he’d been four years ago when I was still a cop. I wondered which award he was up for, but it didn’t matter. The kid finally had his act together. Over on the stage, my father greeted Shardul’s aunt with a little bow, which was more polite than I’d ever seen him act towards any indigenous person. I wasn’t so sure Dad would agree I wasn’t a security risk. I was damn sure if this ceremony had been held at the governor’s residence, the audience wouldn’t be more Nihan than Kelon, and I’d have been turned away at the door. My mother’s absence was almost certainly a signal that my parents disapproved of the character of the awards-giving ceremony, if not the fact of the awards themselves. The Institute’s newly completed conference and lecture hall held five hundred people. Roshni-ji and Rupa could have approved three times that many attendees, so many Nihan wanted to attend. In the end, the compromise was to allow it to be broadcast live so the indigenous people could have a sense of this momentous event—the first of many, I hoped, now the legal judgment had cleared the way for special prizes and sponsorships of Nihan trainees and students. Since Shardul had worked his arse off to help his colleagues win the cases before the High Court six months ago, the trustees of Tanmay Kly’s estate had worked tirelessly to convince the rich and powerful that it would do their image a world of good to be seen to be helping indigenous youth reach their potential. Induma with her looks and charm, and years as the mistress of the wealthy and influential Tanmay Kly, had exploited her contacts with devastating effect. She was now rated not just the most powerful Nihani woman in Medele, but also one of the most prominent female public figures in the country. I had no idea how Tanmay Kly would have felt about that. Being here was an honour for me, but a pain in the arse too. I really wished I could pop a pill to turn my empathy off in large groups. The best I could do was take a pain reliever

for the inevitable headache, and have a stiff drink beforehand. I wondered how Roshni-ji managed. She was, as always, serene and composed, despite five hundred minds pressing on her talent as much as on mine. She’d given me a lot of valuable training over the time I’d known her, but I suspected being an empath from birth gave her advantages I’d never have. Or maybe it was her religion. She gained a lot of strength from her faith—something else I’d never share. The ceremony was already late, but I detected very little impatience among the excited, happy crowd. A few executives from Denge Consortium, looking out of place among the more simply dressed Nihan, kept checking phones and watches, but the overwhelming sense of anticipation drowned out any possible resentment from them. My father turned and saw me sitting in the reserved seats. I smiled politely. He scowled and turned around sharply, his stiff back a rebuke and rejection. “How gracious,” Shardul muttered. “Told you he wouldn’t be pleased.” “But not to even feign pleasure at his son’s presence?” “I think we moved past feigning a while ago. What the hell are we waiting for?” “The media. Apparently there’s a lead-in studio interview running over time. Ah.” He looked at his phone where a message had flashed up. “They’re ready to go.” And so they were. My father and the other guests were ushered to their seats on the stage, and the mayor stepped up the podium to greet the audience. “Welcome everyone. Jiagan fulti.” I winced at his Nihani accent, and Shardul rolled his eyes. But hey, the effort was nice. “Thank you for being so patient, not just today, but for the years many of you have waited for your youngsters to take their place at our universities and training colleges. But today is not the time to talk about failures of the past.” “Why not?” Shardul whispered. I nudged him to shut up. “With these generous awards from Denge Consortium, we hope that the shortcomings in encouraging our indigenous population will begin to be addressed. Now, I have the great honour of introducing the governor of this region, Governor Rajan Ythen.” My father smiled at the audience while managing to studiously avoid looking in my direction. A neat trick since I was directly in front of him. I wondered where my mother was—up at the hospital with Tara again? My sister-in-law was so fed up with being pregnant. Another three weeks, the doctors said, before she could be safely delivered, poor kid. “Welcome everyone. The honour is in fact mine, Mayor Klosil, to see so many of our

finest young people here before me, and to know their academic excellence will be rewarded.” Shardul cleared his throat quietly in what I suspected was a sarcastic manner. “As you know, the awards today are just one initiative the regional government has instituted as part of the national court-mandated rectification of indigenous disadvantage. This region will pay a hundred thousand dolar this year alone in grants and scholarships, and I have personally ordered ten traineeships within the gubernatorial administration to assist Nihani youth increase their participation in the structure of government.” My father droned on. It was all great news for the Nihan, and long overdue, but it didn’t have the emotional impact of Shardul bursting into my office six months ago. The shockwaves had been felt as far as Kelon, and the decision still rippled through every sector of our society. The national council of governors had swiftly ordered regions to begin work to comply with the court ruling, and while Dad’s government, restrained by budgets and politics, had so far only come up with token gestures, big companies like Denge Consortium, looking to investors back on Kelon, had offered more substantial schemes. This wasn’t an accident. Induma Kly and the Institute had been laying the groundwork for over a year, anticipating a favourable judgement from the court. It would still take many years before today’s award recipients helped to improve the lot for all their people, but it was a start. A very good start. The audience applauded. Oh good, Dad had finished. I looked up and caught him giving me a glare. Maybe he’d noticed my attention wandering. Oh well. The mayor rose again. “Thank you, governor. Now to the heart of the event today. Let me introduce a man whose industrial and financial achievements need no introduction. Sri Kaushik Denge, of Denge Consortium.” As the audience applauded again, I studied the man walking to the podium. Unlike Tanmay Kly, Denge kept out of the spotlight, though his company was behind a number of high-profile business and ventures in Medele. He was a big man, heavy, with greying hair and hooded eyes under thick dark eyebrows. He exuded vitality and power, feet placed apart like a commander of battalions. I’d hate to be the man who crossed him. He made a short speech, and then invited Roshni-ji to come up to join in the prizegiving. A nice touch, and as everything was being televised, good for PR too. I imagined selected clips would find their way into the Consortium’s annual report to shareholders, but so long as Denge kept paying for scholarships, I couldn’t really begrudge him the advertising.

Darpak received a medical traineeship grant. I grinned at him as he sat down, but he didn’t recognise me. It’d had been over four years and a lifetime ago, after all. “You know that boy?” Shardul asked. “Yeah. Toe-rag made good.” “Ah.” As each student came forward, family and friends moved into position near the stage to take photos of Denge handing over certificates and Roshni-ji clasping their hands. All the manoeuvring caused a bit of confusion, but the audience remained happy and not at all impatient with the lengthy roll call, though I noticed one fellow, sweating hard and anxious about something, making his way to the bathrooms at the side. Looked ill to me. I hoped he wasn’t infectious. Might have been the heat in here from all the people—the ventilation was barely coping. My father spoke to many of the recipients, smiling his political smile. Damn hypocrite. He’d never had done anything for the Nihan without being pushed into it, and yet here he was, making capital out of the opportunity. “It’s nearly over, so stop scowling.” I shook myself. “Yeah. Sorry, just thinking....” “About family? We can’t choose them. All we can do is transcend them.” I looked at Shardul. “You feel that way about your parents?” “They are the finest people I know. To transcend them is a challenge to me, not an insult to them. You loved him once.” “I still do. I just don’t like him. Or admire him. I used to do both.” “A loss to grieve for, I admit. Perhaps one day you’ll recover it.” “Doubt it.” The last student walked up to the stage, and the man I’d noticed before, the one who looked ill, came forward too. His father, maybe? Brother perhaps. He pulled something out of his pack, and, horrified, I realised the dark metal object wasn’t a camera or phone. I leapt to my feet. “Gun! Everyone get down! He’s got a gun!” People screamed. Most ducked, but a few fools stayed on their feet. A couple even moved closer to the gunman. I yelled at them to get down and stay the hell away from him. Damn it, there were no guards at the front of the hall, and those at the back weren’t reacting fast enough. I reached for my own gun as I pushed Shardul down, only to remember, damn it, that I’d left it behind because no weapons were allowed at the

ceremony. How the hell had this guy smuggled one in? Above the yelling and shrieks, the man with the gun shouted, “No one move! Please. No one will be hurt if you do as I say.” He walked onto the stage, the gun held in front of him. “Everyone here, stay where you are,” he said to my father and the mayor. “Everyone else, please leave the hall quickly.” People scrabbled to obey, knocking over chairs and fighting each other to get to the exits, pushing the guards back towards the doors. Bugger that. I pushed forward against the panicking tide of humanity, struggling to reach the stage. I barely registered Shardul moving in my wake, coming with me. The man pointed the gun at me as I walked up the stage steps. “Please don’t come any closer.” I stopped. “I’m Governor Ythen’s son. If you want a hostage, take me. Let the mayor and others go.” “I am Roshni-ji’s nephew,” Shardul said. “Please, she’s old and blind. Take me.” His aunt, nowhere near as helpless as he made out, frowned at him. “Shardul, you can’t.” “Muor, please.” The man looked at Roshni-ji, and Rupa, cluthing her aunt’s arm. “Go. Both of you. And the mayor. This one and this one stay.” He’d indicated my father and Denge. “Okay?” “Okay,” Shardul agreed. “Your honour? Roshni-ji? Please, go with Rupa. Go and don’t stop.” The mayor bolted. Roshni-ji came to me and put her hand on my arm, and on Shardul’s. “Spirit guide you both. I will pray for your safety.” “Thanks. Rupa, please, get out of here,” I said. The man waited until the hall was empty. “You,” he said, pointing at me. “Please lock the doors and bolt them from the inside, then come back.” He was the politest criminal I’d ever met. I did as he ordered, not willing to put Dad’s life or the others at risk. The guards clustered at the doorway. I told them to stay back and wait for the police. No way did I want these amateurs handling a hostage crisis. When I returned, Dad and Denge were seated. “Both of you, please sit too,” he said. “I must insist you do what I say. I am wearing a bomb, see?” He pulled his jacket open, revealing ominous grey blocks of what I guessed to be explosive, wires and flashing controls. Definitely looked like a bomb to me. “If I let go the control in my left hand, we will all die.” A control was wired to his index finger, and his thumb held a trigger down.

“Please, do as I say, and no one will be hurt.” Shardul and I obeyed. The man was dressed in shabby, neat clothes, though it looked as if he’d been sleeping in them. His accent was very strong—a rural Nihan, I thought. Shardul would probably be able to tell where he came from by his braid pattern, but I couldn’t make anything of it. “So what do you want? What’s your name?” I asked, keeping my voice pleasant. Hostage rule number one. Be polite to the man in charge. “My name is—” He stopped to cough harshly, and it took a few moments for him to recover his composure. “I am Ekanga.” “Ekanga, I’m Javen, and this is Shardul. We don’t want anyone hurt, so why don’t you tell us what you want?” He straightened, his mouth thinning in his over-pale face. “I want justice for my family, and my village. I want it from him.” He gestured towards Denge with the gun. “I want justice for two dead children, and my wife who is sick, and my son who is dying.” I kept smiling. Fuck. A gunman with a mission was likely to be a lot more driven than one looking for a fat ransom. “That’s a big task,” I said. “You want to sit? You look a little unwell.” “Thank you, but I will stand.” He switched the gun over to his other hand, holding it awkwardly with the switch—every eye in the room focussed on the trigger until he had the weapon safe—and brought out a hypoinjector from his pocket with the other. He injected himself in the neck, shuddering. Great, a junkie with a gun. “You can’t possibly escape,” my father said to him. Shut up, Dad. “I think he knows that,” I said to my father, who glared at me for my impertinence. “Let Ekanga tell us what he wants us to do, and then we can all go home, right? You’re not here to kill anyone, are you, Ekanga?” He shook his head. “I don’t want to kill,” he said, before coughing. “The Seeker forbids it and there have been too many dead.” “This is ridiculous,” Denge said. “I haven’t killed or hurt anyone. You’ve got the wrong man.” The gun swung towards him. Ekanga radiated hate and his nostrils flared. “No, I don’t think so. Your company owns the mines in the Parleng mountains, yes?” “A subsidiary does. They’re run according to the law.” Ekanga sneered. “The law that you and your people buy off and cheat whenever you

want, so you can poison the water and the land and let us die like insects.” “Nonsense. He’s insane.” Denge appealed to us all with spread hands. No one offered him any comfort. Oh good work, Denge. Call the man with a gun crazy to his face. “So what is it you want Sri Denge to do? You want compensation?” I asked. Ekanga stared at me, then spat on the floor, loathing pouring off him. “Money. That’s all you Kelon think about. Money won’t bring my children back, or save the lives of my wife and child.” “Or you,” Shardul said quietly. “Ekanga, I’m not Kelon, as you see. May I stand and come closer? I want to see something.” Ekanga frowned. “Why?” “Trust me. I am your brother in the Spirit.” What the hell was he up to? I didn’t want him going near this guy. But Ekanga nodded and Shardul stood, walking slowly over to him, hands raised. “I am going to look at the injector in your pocket, and then your arms.” “I have a bomb,” Ekanga said, moving back a little. “Yes. I won’t interfere.” He reached into the inner pocket and drew out not only the hypoinjector but also a bottle of pills. “Your arm?” Ekanga allowed him to push up his sleeve. Even from this distance, I could make out the livid purple marks on his pale skin. “Thank you,” Shardul said, putting the drugs back into Ekanga’s jacket. “You’re also dying, aren’t you?” “All that matters is to stop it happening to anyone else.” Shardul nodded, and turned to us. “He has lojeta poisoning.” Denge suddenly went very still. I had no idea what Shardul was talking about, so I asked the obvious question. “What’s that?” “Lojeta is a rare mineral found here and there through this continent, in association with nixum and other ores. When our people first settled here, there were deaths among those collecting clay and minerals for pottery and beadwork in certain regions. Left undisturbed, the deposits are not a hazard, and the land can be farmed. But when it leaches into the water supply, the poison builds up in those drinking it and causes organ failure, abortions, deformities and other illness.” “We have no other water supply,” Ekanga said. “Even the rain water, which isn’t enough, is polluted by the mine dust. The officials investigated and measured, but then said

there was no measurable amount of lojeta in the water.” He shook his blotchy arm at us. “This is imaginary, is it? My sons died of natural causes?” “The mines caused this?” my father asked, then turned to Denge. “You must have known about this.” Denge folded his arms. His expression was angry, but I sensed more fear than anger. “No report reached me, and if it was investigated, then the mineral must be present elsewhere than in the water.” “You’re lying,” Ekanga said, advancing a little, gun in his shaking hand pointed at Denge. “The head of my village wrote to you personally to plead for help. He received a note thanking him for bringing the matter to your attention.” He pulled a piece of paper from his outside jacket pocket, and threw it on the floor. “There.” Shardul bent and retrieved it. “It’s a letter from Sri Denge’s office as he said,” he confirmed after scanning it. He walked over and showed it to my father. “Doesn’t prove the original letter said what he claims but....” “Why would he lie?” I said. “Is it possible the water is clean and the contamination is in the soil or something?” “The water is dirty and so are the officials in that area. Your officials,” Ekanga said to my father. “The mining company has been paying them off ever since they started work there three years ago.” “That’s a serious claim,” my father said. “One I don’t believe.” Ekanga glanced at him, more weary than angry. “I don’t care what you believe, governor. All I want is the truth to be heard. This ceremony is being shown outside. I want people to know the lies being told.” Denge’s face flushed. “The broadcast should be stopped! This is outrageous, being tried by a man forcing his way into the room like this.” “Seems to me the easiest way to prove this is to have someone test the water independently,” I said. “Maybe one of the news channels already has reporters doing it. Which village are you from, Ekanga?” He jerked, surprised. Obviously there were parts of this plan he hadn’t thought through carefully enough. “You want my people harassed, don’t you? But they don’t know I’m doing this. I lied to my wife. I said I was coming to see Sri Denge, but not how. I took some of our savings to buy enough drugs to keep me going. I am sorry, beloved,” he said to where I guessed he thought the cameras were. “I am sorry I lied.” “I can order no one is to detain or harass your family,” Dad said. “I can order more

water testing. But you have to let us go.” “I can’t do that. You will have me arrested, and then it will all be covered up again. We are powerless. This is my only chance to make people listen. We have tried for so long.” He sat down abruptly and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Please, forgive me. I don’t know what else to do.” “Governor, perhaps you could show good faith and order the tests anyway,” Shardul said. “He’s at your mercy as much as we are at his. He knows this.” “Dad, I think you should.” “And if I don’t? Will I be forced to?” Dad’s eyes drilled into me. “No,” I answered quietly. “It’s up to you.” “Does anyone have a phone I can use? I left mine with my office.” Shardul drew his out and gave it to my father. Dad punched in a number while I held my breath. “Yes, the governor here. Are you following the situation? Very well. Take a selection of reporters as observers and go to the Parleng mountains, to a village called....” He looked at Ekanga. “I need the name.” “Jutela. I live in Jutela.” “Right. A village called Jutela. I want the water supply tested for loteja. I also want you to offer the wife and child of a man called Ekanga testing for loteja poisoning. Make sure they know it’s voluntary. No, don’t tell them what’s happening. Just say I’ve been alerted to a potential problem. Thank you.” He handed the phone back to Shardul. “There. That’s been done on the record, with any number of witnesses to see I wasn’t forced to do it. Now let us go.” Ekanga shook his head. “Not yet.” He gestured to Denge. “Not until he admits his fault.” “Preposterous,” Denge spluttered. “I know nothing about this.” My father turned to him. “Kaushik, if that’s not true, we’ll find out. If the water supply is contaminated, then someone has to be covering it up. And if I find out it’s your company, I’ll hold you responsible, because I know nothing happens in Denge Consortium that you don’t find out about. Did you receive a letter from that community’s head?” “I receive hundreds of letters, Rajan. That one was almost certainly dealt with by a secretary.” “That’s crap,” I said. He snarled at my rudeness but I ploughed on. “Are you telling me someone writes to you saying your mines are killing people and your secretary tells them

thanks, then takes no action on something that important? Either you have a seriously lousy secretary or you’re lying through your teeth.” He scowled at me. “You're a very disrespectful young man.” “Yes, he is,” my father said, “and I assure you he was raised better. But Kaushik? You are lying through your teeth.” “I won’t tolerate being defamed!” “How about being sued?” Shardul said politely. “Because I would be happy to investigate assisting the village of Jutela in a class action against Denge Consortium. Pro bono, naturally. I could do with something to stretch me after winning in the High Court on the discrimination cases. That was my firm, you see. We’re very good lawyers.” I covered my mouth to hide my smirk. Shardul’s expression of calm helpfulness was perfectly judged. “You’re in league with him!” Shardul wagged his finger. “Careful, Sri Denge, what you said about defamation holds for me too. I’ve never met Sri Ekanga before today.” “He’s telling the truth,” I said. “And I’ll offer my services as investigator for free. I’m very good at that too.” “Yes, you are,” Shardul said, smiling at me. “Sri Denge? It would be better for all concerned if you were frank.” “I have nothing to say.” “Then I guess we’re going to be here a while,” I said. “How long to get to Jutela, Ekanga?” “Five hours by auto. I came by bus. Takes longer.” “And the water testing? Anyone know?” “At least another six,” my father said. Before turning to politics, Dad had been a medical researcher. Long time ago or not, he knew what he was talking about. “Okay, then everyone should get comfortable. Ekanga, have you got enough drugs to last another twelve hours? I’d hate to be blown up just because you passed out.” He gave me a weak smile. “I will be fine, Sri Javen. I am sorry. I only wanted to make the governor and Sri Denge listen.” “I understand. The thing is, Sri Denge’s good name hangs on all this, and the reputation of my dad’s officials, so we need this to play out, unless you want to walk out

now and take your chances?” “Will the truth be heard then?” My father looked my way, but let me answer. “I don't know. The longer you make the cops outside wait, the jumpier they’ll get. You walk out now, they’ll arrest you. If you walk out in twelve hours, they might shoot you.” “I came here to die. I cannot work or help my family. I even had to steal from them for this. But if I can stop the deaths, then it will be worth it.” “I don’t understand,” my father said. “Why not leave Jutela?” Shardul laughed. “Oh, Sri Ythen, how ignorant you rich Kelons are. Go where? Your people already own the best property. If Denge Consortium won’t even admit they are doing this, how can Ekanga’s village afford to buy elsewhere, when good farming land is sold at a premium?” “But even if we prove loteja contamination, it can’t be removed quickly. They’ll have to move.” “We can’t. We are very poor. Those who could leave, did, but the rest of us cannot.” “So this is about money,” Dad said. Ekanga didn’t bother pointing the gun at him. “How much is your son’s life worth, Governor Ythen? I lost two children, one just after birth, one at six months. I watched them die miserably. My son is in pain constantly, and I can’t help him. My death here is the only thing left I can give him.” “Dad, shut up,” I said. My father opened his mouth, then saw my expression. “You’re right, Javen. I apologise, Sri Ekanga.” “These dramatics are unnecessary,” Denge said. “Let me go and we can discuss this in a civilised fashion. I won’t talk at the point of a gun.” He started to get to his feet, but my father pulled him back down with more force than politeness. Dad jerked his head at Ekanga and indicated with an angry frown that Denge should sit down and shut up too. “Well, they already tried talking to you and you ignored what they had to say,” I said. “Or your secretary did. And if you’ll act before being forced to, I’ll eat his gun. Ekanga, mind if I sit on the floor? These chairs suck.” He shook his head, so I climbed off the chair and stretched out on the floor. “Everyone may as well do the same.” Dad tilted his head towards me. “Javen, what about Tara?”

Damn it, I’d forgotten about her and Yashi. They’d be going crazy watching all this on the feed. “Your wife?” Ekanga asked. “No, my sister-in-law, in hospital with a placenta praevia. She’s pregnant. If my father could call my brother....” “Perhaps we could all call those who will be worrying about us. Ekanga could speak to his wife,” Shardul said. “The phones don’t work in our village. We have to use radio. But call who you wish. The police, will they want to speak to me? Should I speak to them?” Every siege should have a gunman this cooperative. “Let me call them,” I said. “I, uh, used to work for them.” Fortunately, this didn’t alarm him. I called the emergency number and after a bit of fiddle-faddle, was connected to a Captain Sarmin managing the scene outside the hall. “Is everyone safe and is anyone in need of medical assistance?” he asked “Yes we’re safe, and no one needs medical help. We’re fine, and I believe Sri Ekanga is reasonable. We’re just waiting for the results from the water testing.” “That won’t be back until well after nightfall.” “That’s okay. We’d like you to reassure our families, though.” “What about this bomb, Sri Ythen?” “Under control for now, captain. Like I said, Sri Ekanga is a reasonable man.” “We’re prepared to enter the building by force. The deputy governor authorised it.” “I think that’s a really bad idea, captain. A really bad idea. Please...sit tight. Give us twelve hours.” “I’ll have to speak to the higher-ups.” “The governor can talk to you. Hang on.” I took the phone to Dad. “Ask him to tell you what he told me. I said he shouldn’t do it.” Somewhat puzzled, Dad took the phone, but his confusion disappeared when he listened to the captain. “No. I am telling you absolutely not. Twelve hours minimum. We’re not in danger here, except of dying of boredom.” Ekanga gave him a sickly smile. “Understood? Thank you.” He gave me the phone back, then looked at our captor. “I’ve just told them not to come in by force. I’m going out on a considerable limb for you. What if the results aren’t to your liking?” “Then I will accept I am wrong, and whatever punishment you offer. This is what the

Seeker teaches.” Dad harrumphed but kept his views to himself. Shardul stretched out beside me. “Do you honestly believe,” he said in a low voice, barely moving his lips, “he would shoot us if we made a run for it?” “Nope.” “Want to see Denge swing?” “Yep.” “Your father does too?” “Yep.” He snorted. “Like father, like son.” Maybe so, but Dad’s collusion in this surprised me more than I could admit to Shardul. Dad had no love for the indigenous, so what was he up to? He was on first name terms with Denge, which implied some kind of friendship, but yet he had gone along with my fairly blatant baiting, not to mention patiently waiting for these tests. As if he knew I was thinking of him, he looked my way. I ventured a slight smile, and he nodded. My father confused me. The only one of us not accepting the situation was Denge. The man was furious—and worried as all hell. I had a good idea why, and the main question in my mind was why he continued to lie. Fear of looking like a fool in front of lesser beings? I couldn’t figure it out, especially when the result would be the same whatever he did, except we could all walk out of here now rather than in a few hours’ time. I decided to poke him again. “Ekanga, tell me about what happened to your children. I mean, if you can bear it.” “Why are you interested in the children of a criminal, Sri Javen?” “Your children aren’t criminals, nor is your wife. Have many children died in your village?” “Last year, every pregnancy in our village ended with a dead child. That’s twelve women.” “Beloved sanity,” my father breathed. “So many. I can’t believe this could be covered up.” “Trust me, Governor, it’s all too easy,” Shardul said. “Remote areas, poor communications, poor support from officials, even when corruption isn’t a factor. Infant mortality among Nihan outside the city is nearly three times what it is for Kelons. It came up in the court cases, remember?”

“I don’t concern myself with every facet of the legal department’s activities,” Dad said, glaring at me. “Three times?” “Yes. I can give you references.” “I believe you. Twelve dead babies. Terrible.” He had to be thinking of Tara. I was. “Some born without brains, others with hearts too small to work, others apparently perfect but dead on delivery,” Ekanga said. “My second son was born alive, but he died four hours later, struggling to breathe. I will never forget my wife’s face when I told her. We lost our daughter the year before. Her kidneys failed, and her liver suddenly enlarged, then failed too. The doctors had no treatment, they said.” “But there are transplants and organ clones, and chelation treatment is effective against loteja poisoning. We can treat such things here.” Ekanga shrugged, sorrow pouring from him. “Not in our clinic, and not with our doctors. There was no money to go anywhere else. No one can afford such things.” “But—” “Governor, there is much about this region you have no damn idea about,” Shardul said suddenly. “Why don’t you listen instead of talking for a change?” My father’s lips thinned in a horribly familiar way. “I thought you were a rude little bastard when I first met you. Clearly I was right.” “Clearly.” “Doesn’t make him wrong,” I said to Dad. “You don’t even know indigenous kids are dying at a greater rate than Kelon children. I thought you governed for all.” He narrowed his eyes at me. Denge relaxed, thinking the attention had come off him. “Maybe if you didn’t come across as so uninterested in Nihan matters, Ekanga’s clan head would have written to you instead. Though whether he’d have got any better response —” “He would have. You know he would. What do you think of me, Javen, that you believe I would let people die when I could stop it?” “We know someone in this room did.” Everyone looked at Denge. “I never saw the letter,” he muttered. “If you had?” I pressed. “I, uh....” “You realise that some enterprising reporter is even now locating your staff to ask them about this, don’t you? And I guarantee no underling is going to carry the blame for the

deaths of twelve babies and more, when it’s you who gave the orders to bin the letter. I wonder what the shareholders will think of a company president who’s set them up for a legal suit which will undoubtedly run into millions of dolar.” “Tens of millions,” Shardul corrected helpfully. “After all, there’s the sick and permanently invalided to consider, not to mention relocation and resettlement costs, and cleaning up the environment. Share prices will suffer quite badly, I should think.” “You’re all forgetting something,” my father said. We turned to look at him. “It’s not just the financial cost. If I discover you had the slightest hand in covering this up or suborning government employees, I’ll not rest until you’re prosecuted for murder, Kaushik.” “That’s ridiculous!” “Not at all,” Shardul said. “Though I believe there hasn’t been a prosecution for corporate murder here in Medele, there’s strong precedent on Kelon. The penalties are...quite severe.” I thought the polite smile he sent Denge at the end of that was a nice touch myself. “Certainly prison would be unavoidable.” Denge paled. “I haven’t killed anyone.” Ekanga roused himself. “Not with your own hands, but you killed them.” He began to cough. This time, the fit went on, and he couldn’t control it. Shardul leapt up to help him, and I didn’t think I imagined him briefly holding Ekanga’s gun while Ekanga fought the spasms. I suspected my father could also see, but Shardul blocked the cameras from recording it. Moments later, he stepped back, Ekanga flushed but quieter. Ekanga wiped his mouth, and came away with blood on his hand. “You need medical attention,” I said. “No. I said I would die here.” “If you die, we’ll be blown to pieces!” Denge shouted. “Rajan, order medics in, now.” Ekanga lifted his gun. “No. You are in no danger, I promise. I just need to....” He fumbled in his pockets again for the injector, and after the dose, seemed stronger. “This is a painkiller and stimulant. Ultimately, it would kill me too. But I will live until the results come, and you all leave. I promise that on the spirits of my babies.” Shardul sketched a symbol in the air and murmured something in Nihani. “Prayer for the departed,” he explained quietly to me. “Look, Denge,” I snapped. “You could end this now. Just admit the truth. Let the poor sod die in peace. What can this possibly gain you?”

“What have I got to lose?” he shot back. He couldn’t bear to admit he was wrong—or to accept defeat. I ground my teeth at the stupidity of some people. My phone went. Ekanga didn’t tell me not to answer it, so I did. “Yashi?” “Javen, it’s Tara. They’re delivering her early. Sanity, the baby’s in distress, and they think.... I can’t get hold of Dad.” He didn’t know what was going on. “He’s here, just busy. I, um, can’t get away either just yet. Where are you?” “On the way to the hospital. They say Tara’s in trouble too. What if I lose her—both of them?” “Yashi, stay calm. You can’t go charging into the hospital like this. Where are the boys?” “Hita still has them. She said she’ll look after them tonight. Javen, I wish you were here.” “I’ll get there as soon as I can. You can call me, talk to me. Let me know what’s happening, okay?” “Okay. I better go. I’ll call as soon as I can.” My father stood. “Tara? The baby?” “Something’s gone wrong and they have to deliver her early. Dad, the baby’s in distress, he said.” Dad rubbed his forehead, worry and frustration clear in his expression as in his emotions. Ekanga stood. “Your grandchild is in danger? Then you must go.” “Can we all leave?” Dad asked. Ekanga bit his lip. “I’m sorry. But you and Javen, and Shardul too, please, go and with my blessing. Your family needs you.” “Your family needs you, Ekanga,” I pleaded. “End this, and I promise I won’t rest until we know the truth.” “Neither will I,” Shardul said. “Nothing will be swept under the carpet.” Ekanga shivered suddenly, and coughed hard. This time, the blood ran down his chin. He wiped it off with his handkerchief. “My apologies for this sight,” he murmured, then his knees crumpled.

I ran to him, thinking to help him and stop him setting off the bomb, but as I eased him to the ground, he whispered, “It’s fake, Javen. There is no explosive. Don’t worry.” “Then lie down and rest.” Behind me, Shardul shouted, “Wait, Denge, stop!” I turned and saw Kaushik Denge bolting for the door. “Leave him go,” Ekanga murmured. “It’s over. Go to your brother. He needs you.” “No. I want to get you out of here first.” “And I’m not leaving until my son does.” I stared at my father, kneeling at my side. “Nor I.” Shardul crouched to the left of me. “Ekanga, give me the gun.” “No bullets,” he said with a weak smile, letting Shardul take the weapon and lay it aside. “I am a terrible liar.” “You fooled me. Here, sit up a little.” We propped him against the wall, and I undid the harness holding the ‘bomb’ to make him more comfortable. “Hell, you’re a mess.” I pulled out my own handkerchief and wiped his bloodied mouth. “You should go,” he whispered. “Nothing can help me now.” “I’m walking out with you.” “I miss my wife, Bala, and my son, Nandan. Do you have a wife?” “No, I’m single. You’ll see them again.” “No. Not even in the next life. I won’t be reincarnated, for I have done a bad thing today.” “Not that bad. Save your breath, okay?” “Javen...I will pray for your sister and her baby.” “Thanks. I meant what I said, about finding the truth.” “I know. But they will find a way to hide it.” He closed his eyes, and his hand went slack. I felt his pulse. Still there, and he was breathing. Just then there was a massive crash as the back doors of the hall burst open, and before I could get to my feet, the place was full of yelling cops—and every one of them had their fucking weapon trained on Shardul. “Get down, get down!” a captain screamed at him, and Shardul obeyed, going flat. “Arms out, now! Do it!” “Wait, he’s not—” “Be quiet!” the captain yelled at me, high on authority. Two cops aimed their rifles my

way and closed in. I put my hands up and looked at Dad for help. One of the police had his gun against Shardul’s head, bellowing at him to identify himself, but Shardul didn’t say anything. “Answer me, beto, or I’ll blow your fucking head off!” Knowing how bad this could get, I started towards him but the cops pushed me back with their weapons. “Shardul!” Damn it, why wouldn’t he answer? “Leave him alone, for sanity’s sake.” “Enough!” My father moved in front of me, and then, with great dignity pushed himself between the cop with the gun on Shardul, and Shardul himself. He put his hand on the cop’s rifle and swung it away impatiently. “This man is an innocent bystander. A respectable lawyer. Stand up, son.” He helped Shardul to his feet, and dusted his jacket down with his own hands. “Are you all right?” “Yes, sir,” Shardul whispered. My father straightened his lapel and gave him a discreet pat on the arm. Shardul still wouldn’t meet his eyes. I moved towards him, and when the cops guarding me tried to stop me, I glared. “Damn it, the man you want is over there, passed out. I’m Javen Ythen, Governor Ythen’s son.” The captain jerked his head and three men went to Ekanga’s side. “He needs urgent medical attention,” I said. “We’ll handle it, Sri Ythen, thank you. We need to get you civilians outside first.” “Come on, Sri Shardul,” Dad said to him, putting his hand on Shardul’s shoulder. I stood on Shardul’s other side. His jaw was clenched, as were his hands, and his face was quite bloodless. “We’re walking out now. Captain, if anyone out there shoots me, I shall take that extremely amiss.” “You’ll be escorted, sir.” He barked an order and two officers came to stand in front of us. “Sorry for the confusion, sir.” “I’m sure you were just doing your job, captain.” Shardul didn’t even twitch at that, which told me how freaked out he was. I put my hand on his shoulder like Dad had. Shardul trembled like a newborn kolija. “It’s over,” I whispered. “Safe now.” He glanced at me, lips pressed tight together, and nodded. “Let’s go,” Dad said. As we emerged blinking into the sunlight, a deafening wave of applause and cheers

greeted us. I stopped, stunned, but Dad waved, completely relaxed about being in front of a crowd. Then he turned to me and offered me his hand. “I’m proud of you, Javen, and how you handled yourself today.” “You too, Dad. Will you follow this through?” “Of course. You don’t always have to blackmail me into doing the right thing.” I flushed. “I thought I was doing what was needed.” “You were. Just in the wrong way. But I want that behind us. Now, I have things to deal with here, but then I want to go to the hospital. Sri Shardul?” Shardul roused himself. “Sir?” Dad offered his hand, and Shardul, surprised under his confused fear, took it. “Damn impressed by you today too. I’d want someone like you on my side.” “Better for you than against you, governor?” Dad smiled. “Indeed. I wish you luck...and success.” He left us then, striding forward to talk to the crowd, and to the waiting reporters. No sign of Denge—his people must have hustled him out of the glare of the media. I tugged Shardul away from the press pack. He was in no fit state to handle them, and I had things to deal with too. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but his hands were still in fists. “I need to go with Ekanga to the hospital. He needs legal protection.” “Agreed, and I need to help Yashi.” He jerked a little. “Your sister-in-law. I’d forgotten. I hope she’ll be all right.” “Me too. Let’s find the auto. You call your aunt. She’ll be out of her mind with worry.” Ekanga had just been brought out on a gurney and was now being loaded into the medical transport. By the time I located my auto, and police acting under Dad’s orders had cleared my route, the transport had just started on its way to the hospital. No lights or alarms. Didn’t know if that meant he’d died or his condition wasn’t urgent. I hoped the latter. After he made his calls, Shardul remained silent for the rest of the journey, still emitting shock and the aftermath of extreme fear. I made him stop at a chai station inside the hospital and drink at least half a cup before he went off to find out what was happening to Ekanga. “Come to me before you leave,” I said. “I’ll be in the private wing.” I’d have gone with him if not for Tara, but Yashi needed me too. I now had to get my mind onto an entirely new crisis.

I found Yashi and Mum in a private waiting room. Yashi, eyes red and cheeks flushed, jumped up when he saw me and grabbed me into a bear hug. I hugged back, trying to impart some strength and calmness through touch. “She’s in surgery now. Javen, I’m terrified.” “It’ll be okay, Yashi. Come and sit down.” I smiled politely at my mother. To my surprise, she responded much more warmly. “Everything’s all right at the ceremony? Everyone’s...safe?” She knew, I realised, but Yashi didn’t. Thanking her silently for not burdening him with it, I nodded. “Everything’s just fine. Dad’ll be along just as soon as he tidies up a few details.” “Good. I was just going to arrange some chai for us all, and something to eat. Would you like something too?” “Thanks, Mum, I would.” She smiled again, and brushed my hair with her hand as she walked past, as if the bitterness of the last year or so hadn’t ever existed. “What did she mean, ‘safe’?” Yashi asked but before I could answer, his thoughts returned to Tara. “Sanity, how long will it take, do you think?” “I don’t know. Have you called the boys? Maybe you should.” “I can’t. What if I have to tell them...?” He covered his mouth with his wrist. “I can’t deal with her dying. I can’t live without her, I can’t.” I shook his shoulder. “No one is going to die today.” “How do you know?” “I just do. So stop talking like this. You should be thinking about how you’ll handle your daughter coming home early, with Tara recovering from surgery.” “I can’t think...I’m a mess.” Yeah, no kidding. “It’s okay. We’ll help.” A few minutes later, Mum returned with a catering assistant who served us excellent chai and sandwiches. I made Yashi eat, and forced myself to, even though my stomach was nearly as churned up as his had to be. The idea of Tara not coming home, with or without her daughter, was unthinkable. It would tear Yashi apart and who knew what it would do to the boys. Dad arrived twenty minutes later, and mentioned nothing of the morning’s events. Mum must have called him when she stepped out. He sat and drank chai and offered manly

sympathy to Yashi, while I wondered exactly what was going on in that well-groomed head, and what he would do about Kaushik Denge. Tara’s doctor came in to see us not ten minutes after Dad turned up. “She’s fine, Sri Ythen,” she said, “and so is your daughter.” Yashi collapsed onto a chair with a strangled sound. Mum sat beside him to hug him. Dad and I grinned at each other over their heads. “Can I see them? Are they really okay? When will they come home?” The doctor smiled. “Soon, yes, and soon. I’ll send someone to fetch you in a few minutes.” Yashi wiped his eyes. “She made it. They both made it.” “And you’re a father again. Congratulations, brother.” “Yes, my boy. Well done.” Yashi looked like he’d been hit over the head with a rubber mallet. “Isn’t it amazing how life can change so fast?” “Yeah, really amazing,” I said. Dad glanced at me, one eyebrow raised, and then towards where Shardul hesitated in the doorway. “Oh, Shardul. Hold on a minute, will you?” He hovered, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Is this a bad time?” “Not at all. Yashi, I’ll be back in a tick.” In his dazed state, I didn’t think my twin even heard me. I drew Shardul outside. “Tara and the baby are fine. We just heard.” He exhaled. “Thank the Spirit. I’m very happy for you all.” “And Ekanga?” “Sedated. They’re going to treat him intensively for the poisoning.” “Chances?” “They won’t tell me since I’m not next of kin. The police are contacting his wife, and will bring her here if they can. I said I’d arrange for accommodation if she needs it. It’s likely she can be treated if she comes here too.” “Might be the best thing for his family. I hope he makes it, though I suppose he’ll be going to prison.” He winced. “It’s more than likely, but there’s no chance of him being questioned or charged for several days. I’ve told the police I’m acting as his defence until they hear

otherwise, though I’ll have to pass it on to one of my partners if I’m required as a witness in a prosecution. Your father, uh, gave orders to treat him gently. I wanted to thank him for that.” “I can tell him. Are you all right? You’re still shaking.” He rubbed his arms. “I can’t seem to warm up, or stop thinking about it. The police pointing their guns, I mean, and making me lie on the ground. Ridiculous when I was in no danger. ” More than he knew. I should have warned him but I thought Dad walking him out would have been more than enough to abate suspicion. “The mind’s a funny thing. Look, wait for me, will you? I won’t be long.” Yashi had Mum and Dad to look after him, and most important, a live wife and child. Being there would be nice, but not necessary, and when I told him that Shardul had had a bit of a shock and I needed to deal with him, it was Dad who answered. “Go with him, Javen. Tara won’t want too many visitors and your niece can meet you tomorrow.” “Are you sure? Yashi, is there anything you need me for?” “No.” He roused himself and took in what I’d said. “Is Shardul okay? What’s wrong?” “Uh...Dad can explain. He’ll be fine...eventually.” Dad actually gave me a sympathetic look. Wonders would never cease. “Then go.” I gave Yashi a quick hug. “Give the ladies my love, and tell Tara ‘well done’ from me. I’ll come by tomorrow. Call me if you need me sooner.” Outside, I took Shardul’s arm. “Let’s find those drinks.” He resisted my attempt to lead him out. “Wait. I don’t want to be in public.” “My place and a bottle?” He bit his lip. “No. My place and a bottle.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. As much as I’m sure of anything right now.” A hotel would be neutral space but if the press saw us, there’d be speculation Shardul wasn’t up to dealing with any more than I was. And I shouldn’t assume Shardul wanted me to stay over. “Come on, then.” Shardul might need alcohol for his nerves, but he needed food, especially carbohydrates, just as much, so when I bought two litre bottles of beer, I also picked up some snacks and nuts. I was worried about him. I didn’t think anything rattled the man, and

because he’d been so calm about the ‘bomb’ and Ekanga, it hadn’t occurred to me that just facing gun-bearing police officers would make him feel so fragile. But the distress coming off him was real enough. He told me to park around the back to deter the press, though I’d seen no sign of anyone paying particularly interest to either of us. Then I followed him up the stairs to the apartment he’d never allowed me to enter before. After seeing his office, I wasn’t surprised that his home was neat and spare, with a few tasteful art pieces to break up the bare walls and shelves. Most of these apartments over the shops and offices in this area were large, with three and four bedrooms. Most, of course, were family homes. Shardul lived alone. “I thought you’d have more books.” “Through there,” he said, waving towards a doorway. “Let me fetch some glasses and plates.” In other words, don’t follow him around. So I waited in the living room that revealed so little of the complex man I had come to see as my closest friend outside my family. Where were the signs of Shardul’s amazing dancing ability? His sly and devastating sense of humour? Or the profound faith which formed the basis of everything he did? Nothing on show hinted at his nature. It could be the home of a businessman, a merchant, a doctor, or a politician as easily as the fascinating, prodigiously talented man I called friend. He was taking a long time. I risked going to the kitchen after all and found him staring at his open cooler. “You okay?” “I thought we should eat but I can’t...there’s nothing here, Javen.” I eased the door handle out of his grip. “I bought food, remember? Just glasses and plates. Where do you keep them? That cupboard?” I fetched things down, and shepherded him back out to the living room. There, he shook himself. “I don’t usually eat in here.” “Where would you like to eat?” “Here is fine.” I set everything down on the low wooden table, then pushed at his shoulder. “Sit down, Shardul.” He looked at me, blue eyes despairing. “I keep hearing the click.” “What click?” “The click...all the guns aimed at me, going click.” He imitated the sound of a weapon

being readied for firing. “I knew I was going to die. I can still feel where the policeman put his gun on my head.” He touched the back of his skull. “I couldn’t answer him. He kept shouting and shouting, but I was paralysed. Terrified. If your father hadn’t taken over...I’d be dead.” I took his cold hands in mine. He didn’t fight me. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” “I know why, but...I can’t stop replaying it.” “Have some beer, relax. It stops, I promise you.” “When?” “Soon,” I lied. The truth was, it differed from person to person. I had no idea about Shardul. Hell, I wasn’t exactly an expert in this stuff. “Why don’t you sit down?” He kept staring at me, gripping my hands almost painfully tight. “I need—” “What? Tell me. I want to help.” He let my hands go, and grasped my shirt instead. “I want to feel...not like this,” he whispered. “Alive.” “Shardul, maybe that’s not such a good—” He kissed me. Desperately, almost angrily. I tried not to encourage him because I knew he was vulnerable and not in his right mind. But his need, his desire, his pain swamped my thoughts, until I could no longer tell what was me, what was him. When he pushed me down to the sofa, I let him, even though alarms pinged hard and insistently at the back of my mind. “Shardul, love, take it easy.” He lay half on top of me, hands busily groping and seeking, his mouth trying to silence me. I had to push him back a little to get the words out. “No. No, Javen, please. I need you.” “You have me. Always. Oh sanity...” He’d wrapped his hand around my cock and squeezed. “If you do that, I’ll come.” “I want you to come. I want...Javen, I want—” He stared at me, his desperation drenching my emotions. “Please....” His eyes filled with tears, and it undid me. “Oh love, don’t,” I whispered, kissing his cheek, the corner of his eyes, licking away the salty wetness. He let me comfort him for all of two seconds, then he pushed back, hard and violently, the desperation now coloured with ugly self-disgust. “I’m sorry. Let me up. Sorry.” I held his arm. “Hey, it’s okay—”

“I said, let me up!” He pushed again, and unbalanced, I fell to the floor where I lay, blinking stupidly up at him. “Sorry. Javen, just go. Please. I apologise. This is—” He scrambled off the sofa and bolted into one of the other rooms. After a moment or two while I wrapped my mind around what had happened, I got to my feet and adjusted my clothing. My erection had disappeared—nothing like your object of desire freaking out for quenching your libido. I bit my lip. Should I stay or go? Shardul was a mess, much worse than I’d realised. I hadn’t liked the idea of him being alone before and I sure as hell didn’t like it now. I played for time by putting the food and beer in the kitchen. Shardul still didn’t emerge from his hiding place. Nothing for it but to look for him. I found him in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, braced on his arms. “You have cause to complain to the police,” he said, no emotion in his words, his disgust and sorrow filling my mind. “I assaulted you.” “That’s crap. I wanted it as much as you did.” “I don’t want it. I don’t want you here. You’re the wrong person.” I wished he’d picked up a knife and shoved it up my nose, than say those words. “All right. So who do you want here? Let me call someone for you.” “I don’t want anyone. Please go, Javen. I regret...but I have no reparations to offer.” “I don’t want reparations. You did nothing wrong. I want to help you.” He turned to look at me with empty eyes. “You can’t. You have the wrong skin.” I bit down the anger and the retort. “Can I...call someone?” “Please just leave. I don’t....” He heaved in a breath. “I don’t want to talk about this again.” “You want me to pretend it never happened?” He nodded. “Fine. Whatever you want. You have my number.” I walked out angry, but aching too because I could feel how much pain he was in, felt it as sharp as if it were my own. He’d struck out like a wounded animal, and it wasn’t his fault that the claws had been sharpened by years of experiencing prejudice and hate from my people. But I’m not like them, I wanted to yell. No point. Wrong time, wrong guy too. Outside, I called Rupa. “Oh Javen, are you all right?” “More or less. How is Roshni-ji?” “Much better now she knows you are both safe. She wanted to speak to Shardul but

wasn’t sure if he would be busy.” “Rupa, that’s why I’m calling. He needs someone...one of his own kind,” I added, my mouth twisting on the bitter words. “But he’s shutting people out. I’m worried about him.” “Why? What happened?” “Traumatic stress, because of the way the police acted when he left the hall. He thought he was going to be shot.” She gasped. “Would they?” “I can’t say there was no risk. Whether the threat was real or not, isn’t the point. He needs to process that. He’ll be okay, I hope, but only if he doesn’t lock it down.” “I will call him, and try to let him talk. He won’t speak to you?” “No.” “Javen...do you need someone too?” “I’m fine,” I lied. “I have my family and friends, and I wasn’t affected the way he was. Look after him. Call me if you need to.” “I will. Spirit guide you, Javen. Sleep well.” I doubted I would. What was the time, anyway? Sanity, only eight. It felt like midnight, so much had happened today. I hadn’t even said hello to my new niece, let alone congratulated her mother, or my nephews. I looked up at Shardul’s apartment. No lights on in the front. Perhaps he’d gone to bed, which might be the best thing for him. Tomorrow he might feel calmer, and we could talk about what had happened between us. By then, I might even understand it myself. My body remembered his hands on me, his lips on mine, yet my mind knew it had been an aberration Shardul never intended, that had revolted him as soon as he realised what he was doing. At least now I knew for certain whatever fantasies I’d entertained, Shardul was never going to come willingly to my bed, and I didn’t want him anything but willing. The best I could hope for was that our friendship might survive. Right now, I had no idea if it would. I drove back to Yashi’s house. His auto was in the garage, so instead of heading to my own flat, I walked into the main house. I found my brother asleep on the sofa, the media screen on but muted. The siege was still the main topic of the news reports, with footage of my father and I separately emerging unharmed from the hall being shown in between talking heads. Tomorrow I might hear what the water tests showed. I wondered how Ekanga was doing, and where his wife and son were right now.

I shook my brother gently. “Yashi.” He woke with a snort and a jerk, blinking stupidly at me. “Javen? Are you okay?” “I’m fine. Tara?” “Asleep, ages ago. I stopped off to see the boys, but Hita thought it was best for them to stay where they were tonight.” “Agreed, but I can take them tomorrow. I planned to take time off when the baby came. How is she?” Yashi smiled. “Beautiful. Tiny and perfect. She won’t be coming home for a couple of weeks, but Tara will be at least a week in hospital anyway.” “Had supper?” He wiped his face. “No. Hey, you didn’t tell me about that thing today!” “Yeah, because what you really needed was to stress about something which was already over and done with, while your wife was in surgery. Is there any food in the cooler? I have some in my place.” “I think there is. Have a look. Dad said there wasn’t any real danger, but the news reports said there was a gun and a bomb, and the man was crazy.” “No, he wasn’t, and the gun was empty and the bomb a fake. Come into the kitchen. I’ll feed you and you can go to bed.” I kept him off the topic of the siege because I didn’t want to talk about Shardul’s role. Yashi was too tired, coming down from high anxiety, to notice my deflection. I did learn my new niece was to be called Nita. “After Tara’s grandmother,” he said. “Lovely name. When can the boys see her?” “Tomorrow. I’ll take them to the hospital in the afternoon.” “Okay, then I’ll take care of things here when we all get back.” “You don’t need to, you know.” “I want to. I take being an uncle seriously.” “Yes you do,” he said, radiating pleasure. “Uh...have you and Mum and Dad made up or was that for my benefit?” “Not sure where I stand, but it wasn’t for you. Dad was amazing today.” “They showed footage on the feed from inside the hall. I was so proud of him. And you. You were both so calm.” I shrugged. “Being hysterical wouldn’t have helped.”

“No, I suppose not.” He propped his chin on his hand and peered at me. “Are you all right, Javen? I mean, really all right? You’re a bit subdued.” “Been a long day, and...well, the story that came out was pretty horrible.” “Think it’s true? That the local officials covered things up?” “Yes, I do. Once I’d have thought it exaggerated, but I’ve seen too much now. And Ekanga was too sick and desperate to be lying.” “What’ll happen to him?” “I have no idea. Mercy, I hope. Justice too. But the cynic in me doesn’t believe that.” “I hope the cynic in you is proved wrong.” He yawned and stretched. “Beloved reason, I’m tired.” “Then go to bed. I’ll collect the boys and take them to school. Call me when you’re ready to go to the hospital and I’ll meet you. Anything you want doing around here?” He shook his head, and we said goodnight. I cleaned up and went to my own flat to shower. Under the clean, safe stream of water, I thought about Tara, lucky enough to live in a city with modern health facilities and delivering a healthy child despite a dangerous medical condition, and Ekanga’s wife, poor, isolated, poisoned by the very necessities of life. No happy outcome and rejoicing, just another load of grief on top of a fresh sorrow. Even if Shardul rejected my help, I would press my father on this, and keep pressing. Work with the media if I had to. No parent should lose a child when it could be prevented. No one should die because of greed. No one should think they’re about to be shot to death because they’re the same race as a criminal. I leaned against the wall and let the water pound on my aching skull. I wanted to be with Shardul, look after him, comfort him. Fight with him against the evils we both hated. Argue with him about the different ways we saw things. I wanted to love him. I did love him, but he would never love me back. I didn’t think I could bear that. But I had to. What choice did I have? Only to act with grace and kindness, or be a complete dick about it all. Arguing with the man would hurt both of us, and do no good. Pushing my claim would make me a stalker. So the choice was simple. If behaving with a shred of dignity was all I could do for Shardul, then that was what I’d do. Even if it killed me.

Javen and the Night of Fire Chapter 1 Case closed, invoice submitted, paperwork finished and our big, necessary insurance client completely satisfied. I thumbed mentally through my office diary. How much of my time the trial would chew through? Too much, with all the work we had on. So many of our cases ended in criminal investigations, I’d spent the equivalent of weeks in court this year giving evidence in fraud prosecutions. Sometimes felt just like being back in uniform. Maybe I should leave the reserve and rejoin the police force for real. For now, I’d have to shuffle appointments around, shift some of the work off onto the team. I climbed into my auto and turned on the news feed audio. “Repeating the breaking news—the trial of Kaushik Denge for corporate murder has ended within the last hour with the jury returning a verdict of ‘not proven’. A spokesperson for the government prosecution said it was too early to decide if they planned to appeal. Sri Denge has not yet made a statement to the press. Two weeks ago, Denge Corporation was found guilty of gross corporate negligence amounting to manslaughter, but the personal charges against Sri Denge—” The case against Denge had been watertight, but the all-Kelon jury hadn’t agreed. Why was I even surprised? I turned off the audio, my hand going to the control for my phone before I remembered calling Shardul wasn’t possible any more. I didn’t need to call him to know how he would feel about this. I knew how I felt about it. Something else to make me think about rejoining the police. I wasn’t so old and cynical that I thought good people couldn’t make their mark even in a society like ours. But if even my father failed to lock up Kaushik Denge when he’d killed more than a dozen children, what hope did the rest of us have? I started the engine and reopened the news feed, masochistically listening to Denge’s lawyer gloating, and the choked disappointment of my dad’s lawyers saying the government believed it had a good case against Sri Denge and would make no apology for bringing it. I’d spoken to these people, worked with them to make their case. Every one of them had wanted to nail Denge to the wall for what he’d done. But in the end a jury of bloody-minded citizens had overturned all their hard work. I wanted to punch a wall in frustration. Or punch Denge’s smug face, which would be much more satisfying. I walked into our offices in a grim mood. Hamsa greeted me, her green eyes glittering

with the anger rolling off her. “You heard about Denge, Javen?” “On the feed just now. I can’t believe that jury.” “I can,” Prachi snapped. My assistant hadn’t risen as I came in. Her hands gripped the edge of her desk as if she had to fight to control herself. Her fury and disappointment, powered by the passion and strength of youth, battered my empathy and made my head ache. “None of us believed he’d be convicted. Yet Ekanga goes to prison for six years—” “Six months, Prachi. Six years suspended after six months, and he’s in hospital anyway.” My father had used his authority to reduce the harsh twenty-year sentence imposed by the court. He’d taken a lot of flack politically for it, and the indigenous community were still furious that Ekanga had even been put on trial, let alone convicted. “Convicted and imprisoned for trying to save people’s lives, and that piece of shit goes free!” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “Sorry, boss.” “Trust me, I’m mad as hell too. I’m sorry, guys. My father did what he could.” “Yes. Too little, too late, though.” Hamsa had established herself as the office diplomat almost as soon as she joined us, so that was damn blunt for her. “Denge’s entitled to due process, even if he is a piece of shit. The prosecution could appeal, and don’t forget the civil suit.” Prachi snorted. “In front of the same judges? What chance do we have?” “Those judges handed you guys a pretty big victory a few months ago.” Prachi stood with a clatter of shoved-back furniture, bright spots of red in her pale face as she turned a venomous look my way. I honestly thought she would slap me. Instead she stomped out to the storeroom. “Okay, now what did I say?” My partner shook her head at me. “Javen, that ‘pretty big victory’ was the tiniest step towards progress compared with history. And after today, my people will wonder if there’s been any progress at all. Don’t expect gratitude or trust from us.” “Ah.” Once Shardul would have ruthlessly mocked a gaffe like that out of me. Since I’d handed over Institute affairs to Madan, I was a lot more out of the loop than I realised. “Good point. Uh, apologise to her for me? I don’t want to upset her any more than I have.” “Of course. Have you spoken to your father?” “Not yet. He’ll need time to talk to the lawyers. He wanted Denge taken down. They won that manslaughter charge against the company. We thought this case would fall the

same way.” “You really thought a man like that, who corrupted so many officials, and hid such crimes for so long, purely for money, wouldn’t find a way to wriggle off the hook?” “What can I say? I’ve tried to crush the last pathetic seeds of idealism, but they just keep sprouting.” She smiled briefly, but her anger glowed around the edges. “People won’t let this slide, Javen. Not this time. Those protests over Ekanga’s conviction will seem like a gentle breeze once word gets around the community.” “Don’t blame them. Just remember I’m on your side, right?” “I do, but I’m looking at a Kelon face.” She flushed and looked away. “Uh...sorry.” I dismissed that with a wave. It hurt, though. We worked together so closely, so well, my race was hardly ever mentioned, and never as a negative. But that was in ordinary times, and this was far from ordinary. I made an excuse of going out to see an imaginary client to let my staff vent to each other without the ‘Kelon face’ looking at them. Hamsa was right. I was Kelon, ally or not. However angry I felt about Denge—and I felt pretty fucking angry in a very up front and personal way, after all the work I’d done with Dad to help convict the bastard—it was nothing to what the Nihan would feel right now. What would happen when they let that anger show? ~~~~~~~~ By the time I got home that evening, Yashi and Tara had heard all about the trial and the supposed impact on the Nihani population. The news feed helpfully repeated the reports and analyses, so I could hear the same supposedly informed opinions my family had imbibed. “Anyone else think it’s weird there’s not a single indigenous commentator? Or interviewee?” I asked them. “Someone must have asked them,” Tara said. “They seem to be sure the tensions are increasing.” “They are. I know because I spoke to my people. But I don’t think these guys did,” I said, thumbing at the screen. “Petitions? I don’t think the Nihan would bother right now. They think Dad’s colluding with the establishment.” “But there were demonstrations before,” Yashi said. “Over the bomber.” “Yeah, and there probably will be again. I’d just like someone to actually ask that community what they think. It’s the problem with this damn society in a nutshell.”

They were sympathetic to my views, of course. Listening to me rant so many times on the subject had eventually had some impact. But the issue didn’t affect them directly, so it was easy to put it in the ‘too hard’ basket, as the media did. By the late night news bulletin, the Denge story was down to fifth on the list, behind the release of a new music vid by a popular singer. Would have been different if the bastard had been convicted, of course. Traffic into town next morning was down at least half. All the indigenous shops on my route to the office were shut, and many of the premises around us still had their security doors up by the time I arrived. I turned on the media feed and learned that all over the city, Nihani employees weren’t turning up for work, and Nihani children hadn’t gone to school. Early, essential deliveries weren’t being made, diners and chai houses were closed, taxis were almost impossible to find. Because Kelon reporters hadn’t asked the right people the right questions, the Kelon population had woken next morning to a nasty and completely predictable surprise. I felt like contacting a reporter to tell them ‘I could have told you so’, but there wasn’t a lot of point. The strike had been organised swiftly, discreetly, and with apparently hundred percent support from the indigenous population. I approved. It was a nice little non-violent reminder to Kelon society just how much its convenience depended on a despised minority. Better than riots, at least. My three employees all called in ‘sick’ within minutes of each other, and my partners let me know they wanted to work from home. “You know, this is a Nihani business too,” I said to Madan who called last. “We could have just closed like the others.” “Thought you’d object.” “Well, you thought wrong. How long is it going on for?” “A week,” he admitted. “Fine. We’re closed for a week. You can pay for the kids’ salaries, I’ll take care of essential stuff here.” “Thanks, Javen. Uh...you might want to stay out of town tomorrow. There’s going to be a rally. Things could get rough.” “Appreciate the heads up. Er...if any of you are arrested, call me.” “Will do. You realise this isn’t over by a long way.” “I know. I don’t think my father expected any different. Good luck, and let me know if there’s anything I can do behind scenes. See you...well, whenever.” The news feeds were full of outraged commentary about the strike and the imminent breakdown of social order because a few Kelon households had lost their nannies. There

was precious little understanding or sympathy for the issues but then I’d wouldn’t have expected it from the Hegal media. I put a call into my father’s office. There was no chance of speaking to Dad immediately. He was undoubtedly under siege. But he called me back sooner than I expected. “Javen. How are you, son?” “Worried about you, Dad. Word is there’s going to be a big protest in the city centre tomorrow.” “Really? Thanks for the warning. Of course you’re closer to the sources than I am. I’m not surprised the verdict upset people.” “It upset me.” “It’s always a risk with jury trials, Javen, you know that.” “But you can try him again, if you have more evidence.” “‘If’ being the catch. We threw everything we had at him. There are still the corruption charges and the environmental damage prosecution.” “But that won’t bring justice for the dead kids.” “I know. But there’s nothing I can do about it, not yet anyway. Let’s hope your friend Shardul’s firm does a better job with the class action.” Ironically, Dad had only acknowledged Shardul’s position as my friend at the point when the friendship ceased to be a fact. I’d never told him we were no longer close. Dad probably knew more about what was happening in Shardul’s life than I did, since the government lawyers were unofficially helping the Nihan prepare a civil claim for damages against Denge Corporation. “I’m sure he will.” “Then concentrate on that. I appreciate the work you did for us, Javen. Makes me wish you worked for me full time. Having someone I can trust completely is a luxury in this job.” “Maybe one day, Dad. Do you want me to come over to the residence? My staff is on strike so I’ve closed up shop. I could offer support.” “We’re fine, son, thank you. The residence is preparing to lock down. Best you stay out of sight and under cover. Yashi too. You’re, ah, not planning to attend this rally, are you?” “I’d like to, but I don’t want to make life harder for you.” “Thank you.” The relief was obvious even in those two words. “I’m trying to decide if I should make a public statement or not. Difficult to tell whether it would inflame or ameliorate the situation.”

“No idea. Just stay safe, Dad, and good luck.” “You too, Javen. Come over with Yashi and Tara next week if this has blown over.” I agreed and ended the call. Once, Dad would never have considered addressing uppity banis troublemakers, but that was before a sick man called Ekanga had forced him to see the injustice he presided over. Once, I’d wanted nothing more than my father to leave the governor’s office, and part of me selfishly still did. But though Dad was hardly the most liberal of thinkers, he was a far better option than the hardliners who’d cropped up over the last year since the verdict of the High Court had given—or restored—so many rights to the indigenous population, and given them a real hope of achieving equality in this unequal society. Dad was now the closest thing the Nihan had to a supportive voice on the Council of Governors. This had not gone down well with the traditional supporters of Dad’s party, and Dad knew that if he’d faced re-election this year, he’d have lost. But he had three more years to run in this term, and he’d told me bluntly that he’d do as much as he could in that time, and then retire if he was no longer wanted. Three years of a pro-indigenous governor could make the difference I wished I could. Not for the first or the hundredth time did I wish I could talk to Shardul about this development. And I sure wished I could talk to him about what was going on in the Nihani community. Next best thing was talking to his cousin, Rupa, instead. “Javen, I was just thinking of you. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” “Busy, busy, Rupa. Are you all well?” “Yes, of course. But angry. You must have heard that from your people.” “Yeah. How much worse is it going to get?” “It won’t be us who start anything. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be trouble. You know about the rally?” “Yeah. Uh, would it help if my father spoke?” “It might help. Is this an official offer?” “It can be. Not if it’s going to put him in danger.” “Then I’ll speak to those organising the rally. Will you be there?” “No. Sorry, but people know my face, and I don’t want to be used as a stick to beat my father with.” “I understand. Shardul will be there.” I didn’t answer her statement or the enquiry

behind it. She knew more than almost anyone else what the problem was between us, but nothing of the specifics of that disastrous evening. Unless he’d told her, of course, which he never would. “Javen, we all miss you.” “I miss you too but I don’t want to make it worse for him. Is he okay?” “He’s better. He’s taken this decision very hard though. Everyone has. I’ve never seen so much fury, not even when Ekanga was convicted. None of us believe that jury was unbiased.” “It probably wasn’t, but it’s the only system we have for these kinds of crimes. If there’s anything I can do...if there’s trouble, I mean...let me know.” “Thank you. Please come visit soon? Shardul doesn’t need to know.” “Okay. Be careful, Rupa.” “Like I said, we won’t be the ones to start anything.” Maybe I should go, I thought. An awful lot of people I cared about would be there, and I could help...or maybe I’d make it worse. Two things made me stick to my original decision—the harm it could do Dad and what he was trying to achieve, and the more selfish issue of the impact on my empathy. I hadn’t been to a political rally since my ‘gift’ had kicked in, and I didn’t want to be stuck in a hostile crowd suffering from empathic overload. So on the morning of the rally, I went to the office early to deal with work stuff, and listened to the commentary on the news feeds. The police had saturated the area, and the office was only just outside a cordon beyond which no private vehicle could travel. Most of the shops and business in the blocks around us were still closed either because the owners were on strike, or were worried about civil unrest. I wasn’t worried for myself, but I didn’t like the combination of a righteously angry minority and a traditionally bigoted police. This could get very ugly, very fast. The rally started formally at eleven. By then estimates of the crowd ranged from a low plausible three thousand, to a wildly inaccurate fifteen thousand. From the videos I scanned anxiously for people I knew, I thought it was more likely seven or eight thousand. I didn’t recognise the men and women leading prayers and making impassioned but polite speeches calling for justice for the Nihan people and punishment for Denge and his cronies. Some of the speeches were in Nihani, but many were in Kelon—with an eye, I guessed, for the media coverage. The reaction at times was angry, but any dispassionate observer would have been impressed by the calm behaviour of a diverse crowd and the lack of disorder. Unfortunately, our media was short on dispassionate observers.

By twelve, I thought the event would pass off peacefully. The impact on public opinion might not be all the Nihan wanted, but at least they wouldn’t have given any ammunition to the ‘crazy, violent indigenous’ pundits. Deciding that there was no longer any need to worry, I began to list appointments I needed to make with clients for the following week, when I heard angry shouting in Kelon coming from the media feed. I turned the audio up and dragged the screen closer. The camera coverage was all over the damn place so it wasn’t easy to work out what was causing the disruption, but then one of the reporters got a fix on it, and it became clear. A group of men waving banners proclaiming themselves to be part of “Kelon Pride”—whoever they were— had forced themselves close to the speaker stage, and despite the attempts of the crowd to stop them, three men managed to get up on the dais. The Nihan weren’t happy and the pushing and shoving quickly turned into straight out assault. Police scrambled up the dais stairs, and I groaned as cops actually helped these bastards resist the Nihan trying to force them off the stage. One of the Kelons grabbed a microphone and berated the crowd for their disloyalty and prejudice. People booed and shouted insults in two languages, and balled up posters and one or two heavier objects landed on the stage. Police muscled their way in from the edges, meeting angry resistance. A cop pulled out suppressant spray and the crowd heaved, trying to get away from the noxious stuff. Cursed insanity, this was exactly what I thought might happen. Could I help? I put on my coat, grabbed my gun, but there wasn’t much I could practically do now except be ready to help my friends, and try and follow where the trouble was headed. Then I heard a shot—not just over the speakers in my office, but live. On the screen, I watched as people scattered, screaming, directionless in their panic. No one seemed to know where the shot had come from, so they were just running. The gunman? No idea, and no indication which side they were on. Another shot, and I grabbed my phone to call Madan. I fretted as he took too long to pick up, but he finally did. “You and the kids need to get out of there now. Get out, Madan. This is going to be a clusterfuck. Tell people to leave.” “Already on it.” He sounded out of breath, rushing or pushing his way through the crowd, probably. Then another shot. “Blessed spirit! Who the hell is that?” “No idea. Move, Madan. Hurry. I’m in the office. Head this way.” I called Rupa, but got no answer. Jyoti said she was already making a dash for it. On the screen, Nihani youths threw bottles and rocks, and smoke drifted across the city centre from the west. Police on cykes tried to disperse the panicking crowd, but did nothing about the ranting Kelons still holding forth from the dais, doing their best to whip up anger and

condemning the protestors. At this point, I didn’t know if the crowd was paying them much attention but the sound of them pissed me off. I went out to the street. Explosions ripped through the air, acrid smoke befouled it, and sirens wailed from all directions. People fled down the street, clutching the hands of wives, husbands, friends, children, dragging their precious loved ones away from the threat. Police let them through the cordon, making no attempt to pursue them. As they passed me, the desperate Nihan shot me fearful looks, seeing only the face of an enemy. Couldn’t blame them. An anxious twenty minutes later, I spotted Prachi, hand in hand with Vik, and Madan, his wife, and Hamsa close behind them. “Quick,” I yelled, waving them into the office and slamming the door behind them. Prachi gulped in air, and then hugged Vik. Both of them looked on the point of collapse and I pushed a couple of chairs over to them. “By the Seeker,” Madan said, clutching his wife Ubika tightly against him, “I never expected any of that. Who are those people?” “Shit stirrers,” I said, and Hamsa nodded. “My guess is they wanted trouble, and they got what they wanted.” “There are shops on fire,” Hamsa said, her voice shaking. “And someone was shooting. I’ve never been so scared.” I patted her arm. “Need chai?” “No, I want to get out of here.” “No chance of making it into your neighbourhood. The police have closed everything off.” “Our house,” Madan said, Ubika nodding in agreement. “It’s in the outer suburbs. Safe and boring.” “Okay—everyone happy with that? We can’t stay here.” I locked down the computers and media screens, grabbed my current files. “Right. Out the back, and we make a run for it.” Six people in my little auto was a crush, but none of my passengers would have preferred to be among the people fleeing on foot. I told everyone but Madan to stay low. The two of us had our weapons ready, and I for one was prepared to use my gun to protect my people. I kept an eye out for anyone I knew, and wished I’d been able to contact Rupa. Jyoti sent a message to say she and Chandana were safe, which was something.

We cleared the city area and I judged it safe to sit up. Behind us, smoke rose from several points, and emergency vehicles raced in the opposite direction. Madan murmured, and the others joined in. “Praying for our friends,” he said when I glanced at him. They might as well pray for all the good it would do. I turned on the audio for the news feed. We listened to the grim reports in silence, wondering how many had been hurt, if anyone had been killed. And just who “Kelon Pride” was and who was behind them. Closing the door behind us at Madan and Ubika’s tidy home allowed everyone to relax, and while Madan bustled off to boil water for chai, the rest of us sent messages to our loved ones, wanting to know they were safe. The answers came in thick and fast. No one we knew was hurt. Or rather, we didn’t know if anyone we knew was hurt. The situation in the centre of town wouldn’t calm down for a while, Madan and I figured. We settled down to drink chai and watch the news feed. “It was fine until those people turned up,” Vik said. “But who was shooting?” “I couldn’t tell from the vids,” I said. No one else had any idea either. “Madan, ever heard of ‘Kelon Pride’?” “Not specifically, but there are a lot of pro-Kelon, anti-indigenous groups that have sprung up in the last year. This is the most overt I’ve seen, though.” “Not a good sign,” I said. “Very little is, these days,” he replied gloomily. “And to think we believed the high court decision might be the start of a brand new era for our people.” “It was...but there are a few kinks to sort out.” Prachi turned and gave me a particularly sceptical look for that remark. After a couple of hours, I thought the disruption downtown would go on all evening, and suggested to Madan that the others stay overnight. He readily agreed, as did the youngsters. “Call me before you leave,” I said. “Are you going back?” Hamsa asked. I wanted to, but the cops who’d let us through the barriers didn’t look like they wanted anyone going the other way. “I’ll keep trying to make contact with people. I just hope your community had plans for something like this.” “No,” Madan said. “Not this bad. They caught us out.” “I’m sorry.” Meaningless, but I was. ~~~~~~~~ Tara exclaimed with relief when I turned up. “I wasn’t in any danger,” I said, hugging

her and making Nita giggle as I tickled her. “Everyone’s in danger,” she said. “It’s horrible.” That it was, and I couldn’t offer any reassurances to her or to Yashi when he arrived home with the boys. We tried to shield the twins from the news, though they couldn’t help but hear about it from school and the teachers. The garbled version they excitedly gave us about the banis and hundreds of guns made about as much sense as some of the news reports. Yashi refused to turn the media feed on after the boys went to bed. “I’ve had more of this than I can stand. This isn’t the way I want my family to live.” “No one wants that,” I said. “Least of all, them.” I said good night after supper and returned to my flat. There I flicked on the news feed. Plenty of outrage and pictures of the burning shops. Nothing from my father directly, though a spokesperson for the governor called for calm and reflection. Other commentators weren’t so measured, calling for enforced registration of all Nihan people, and restriction of their movements until the people behind the rioting were caught. No one appeared to be asking about the Kelon Pride group, and that pissed me off. What had happened was such blatant stirring up of trouble and emotions, and had clearly been planned. I looked up Kelon Pride for myself. I expected they’d be some shadowy organisation hiding behind a fake name, but no. They had their own information site, their mission—“to take back the rights given away by government to non-Kelons”—proudly stated on the first page, and the leadership named, though none of the names meant a thing to me. The riot and their members’ role in it wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Not that the people involved in disrupting the rally were necessarily real members of this group, or acting under their direction, of course. How had I heard nothing of these people? How had my Nihani friends not known of them? Shardul would have though, monitoring the hate groups as he had been. Had he had any warning at all about what was likely to happen at the rally? Did he know who was involved? My finger itched to tap in his number, etched in my memory even if erased from my phone’s listing to remove temptation. I had tried to speak to him a few times after that night, but he’d blocked my calls, and finally Rupa had contacted me to ask me to leave him alone. “Not that I agree,” she’d said. “But he’s embarrassed, ashamed...and that’s not something Shardul handles well. Give him time, Javen.” So I had. Six months’ worth, in fact. Was it enough, finally?

I pulled out my phone, looked at it, put it away. No, not until I’d done more research. I wanted to be able to have an intelligent conversation with him about the concerns he would be dealing with, instead of making it all about me and my feelings. I worked at home next morning but later, running an errand for Tara so she could take a nap, I took the chance to swing past the office. The street looked normal aside from the greatly heightened police presence. My ID was checked at two points, and roads to the central market place were blocked off. The entire shopping district was quiet, and I didn’t see a single indigenous person on the entire journey. At the office I pulled up the Kelon Pride site again and called my father. “Javen, I hope you weren’t caught up in what happened yesterday. We’ve been worried.” “No, I was fine. Helped some friends get out of the mess and we stayed clear. Dad, who are these people? I hope you kicked the chief of police’s arse over the way they handled things.” “Son, please don’t tell me my job. As a matter of fact, I did kick a posterior or two this morning. Your indigenous friends carry some of the blame, though. There were youths ready to fight, carrying projectiles and other weapons, and they took the opportunity for violence as soon as it presented itself.” “But the opportunity was presented by the Kelons. I saw the live report.” “Yes, they stirred things up. The banis could have just left or let them have their say. I know that might be a lot to ask of them, but I can’t say they share no responsibility for what happened. People won’t believe me when the evidence is otherwise.” “Fine. But those guys?” “Are being investigated. However, speaking uninvited at a rally isn’t a crime. Throwing rocks at people is.” “And the gun fire?” “We don’t know where that came from. It’s a worrying development, but there were only half a dozen shots fired. It wasn’t open warfare.” “So you think I’m worried about nothing.” “No, son. As governor, I have to see both sides, that’s all. Trust me, Javen. Trust me.” “I do, Dad,” I said quietly. “Sorry to have worried you.” “Just glad to know you’re all right. Do your friends intend to keep on with the strike?” “I don’t know. I can see arguments for and against. They don’t feel they have a voice.” “Well, you could pass on an unofficial message that serious, well-behaved

representatives will be received respectfully at the governor’s residence. If we can show non-antagonistic paths to resolution can have an effect, then strikes and rallies won’t be necessary.” “But Denge’s still free.” “For now. Send your friends over to talk. I’ll listen, explain. They’ll have a chance to be videoed with me, and seen as equal partners.” “Why not ask them yourself?” “You don’t think sending one of my beloved sons as my personal envoy is personal enough?” I grinned. “Good point. I’ll pass the word. Thanks, Dad.” “Thank you, Javen. See you soon, I hope.” I’d spent so many years despising my father for what he did for a living, I’d never appreciated how good he was at doing it—or that he was popular for a reason. Love of his kids had persuaded him to look at his blind spot regarding the indigenous population, but it was his own innate talent for building alliances which made that examination worth it. I called Shardul’s aunt as soon as Dad hung up. “I’m sorry for what your people experienced yesterday, Roshni-ji.” “We all are, Javen. Our community is in shock. But also very angry with your people, particularly the police.” Unusually blunt for her, but she sounded stressed. I doubted she’d had much sleep last night. “I don’t blame any of you for feeling that way. I have a message from my father.” She listened in silence as I passed it on. “He’s sincere, I promise.” “I believe you. I will speak with the elders about this invitation.” “Roshni-ji...did Shardul make it out safely?” “Yes, he did. He’s here now, unharmed. Thankfully, we had no serious injuries, and no deaths, though only by luck.” “Uh...my father said some of your youths went ready for a fight.” “I believe so. But considering our history with your people, I’m surprised it was not more, and worse. Nothing would have happened if not for those men.” “Agreed. But now you know what’s likely to happen at other rallies. The Kelon reactionaries have an interest in making the Nihan look unreasonable and dangerous. You must tell your people not to fall into that trap.” She gave a little laugh. “My nephew has just finished saying that in those very words.

We know the risks. Our mistake was in not anticipating the blatant nature of the attack, or the level of police complicity. Next time, we won’t be taken by surprise.” “The police were too, I think. It wasn’t an intelligent reaction, but I can kind of see how it made sense at the time.” “It did not inspire trust, Javen.” “No, it didn’t. I’m sorry.” “So am I. When this is past, I hope you will visit. It’s been a very long time since I saw you.” Six months, I thought. “I’ll visit, I promise. Will the strike continue?” “That is what we’re discussing. Forgive me, but I should....” “Understood. Good luck, Roshni-ji.” And that was probably as much as I could do in this situation. My uselessness chafed. I might have even pestered the police reserve office about an active role, if it weren’t for the way the police had dealt with the demonstration. Anti-banis sentiment was likely running high within the force right now, and I no longer had the stomach or the patience to stay silent in the face of that kind of thing So with Roshni-ji making it clear that my presence wasn’t wanted during this crisis, my employees holed up safe in their own homes or those of friends, the police continuing to not request my assistance, and my father conducting affairs of the state without my help, I had to do like most adult Kelons in the city and get on with my own work, ignoring the racial hostility that was so thick in this city you could almost see it and yet invisible to anyone ready to ignore it. The twins yelled with delight when I picked them up from school, though Madhu wanted to know why I wasn’t at work. “Surprise holiday,” I said. “And that’s why we’re all going to the big park after you guys change and I pick up your mum and Nita.” “Yay!” Tara had prepared a picnic and I took them all to the river park so they could eat and work off excess energy, while I and their mother sat in the sunshine and played with Nita. But even here, the events of the day before could not be ignored. Not a single Nihan walked their children along the path, or played in the clearing, and there were fewer Kelons around too. “It’s hard to believe such appalling things happened so close,” Tara said. “Who fires a gun into a crowd?”

“Someone trying to cause panic. People could have been killed. I don’t believe it was any indigenous person doing it. It would have been their own who’d suffer.” “I think you’re right. Whoever that Kelon Pride group is, they could have said their piece another way. Javen, is this just the start of something worse, do you think? Because I don’t want to bring my children up in the middle of a civil war.” I looked at the twins, racing each other on the grass, carefree, happy. Privileged by a life cushioned by status and wealth. “I don’t think it will go that far. It hasn’t yet, and the Nihan have had grievances for a long time. A lot depends on Dad.” “He’s made them think they can get what they want now. So in some ways it’s harder for him.” A familiar odour made it clear that Nita needed changing. Tara began the elaborate ritual that went with a baby’s dirty bottom while I watched, and considered Tara’s words, which held a lot of truth. “You think he shouldn’t have made any concessions to them?” She kept on cleaning. “No, of course not. A lot needs to be changed, and I don’t want other people’s kids growing up unhealthy or poor any more than I want my own. But I know some Kelons wish he’d never given them anything.” “Jealous of people who have almost nothing. It’s stupid.” She gave me a look as she gently wiped Nita’s nether regions with a cloth. “It’s human nature.” “Not all humans.” “No, but more than you’d like to believe. Do you still have to work tonight?” “Yeah.” I had to do some surveillance on a guy suspected of defrauding our insurance client. They’d passed on a tip-off that the supposedly heavily disabled customer was doing a little night work, and I needed to capture it on video so they could confront him. Boring stuff but it paid the bills. I’d have normally assigned something this simple to Vik or Prachi, but that wasn’t possible this week. “Want me to save you some supper?” “That’d be great, but you don’t have to.” “Javen, I’m cooking already and you know we love feeding you.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Then I better earn my supper by taking the twins for a nice long walk so they want to go to bed early.” “Oooh, yes please. Where do they get so much energy? I’m sure it’s not normal.”

“Must be your genes. We’re all lazy bastards on our side.” Wherever the genes had come from, the boys had plenty of charge in their batteries, and wore me down as much as themselves before Yashi joined us to spend a little time playing in the dying sunshine, and collecting his family to go home for supper. “Be careful out there tonight?” he said as we prepared to head off in our different directions. “I can guarantee you there is absolutely no risk in sitting in my auto waiting for a middle-aged fraudster to finish his electrical moonlighting, unless I die of boredom.” He laughed. “Point taken. Have supper with us properly tomorrow?” “It’s a date. See you later, guys.” “Bye, uncle Javen!” the twins chorused, and Nita gurgled as if joining in. I waved at the kids until their auto disappeared around the corner. I’d never have children of my own, most likely, but so long as I could be around these three, I’d never miss them. My fraudulent gentleman turned up at his employer’s house at six, and drove off to handle the under-the-table job on which his employer paid no tax, and his insurer had been told he was unable to handle because of his disability. He even helpfully attended to some of the circuitry outside the house where he was working, to give me a nice, clear shot of him climbing a ladder and standing with complete assurance on the roof. So much for his balance problems, not to mention his weak back and leg. I finished the surveillance by nine, and swung by the office to prepare the report. I sent it all off to our client along with a preliminary account, and by ten, I pulled up into Yashi’s garage. A good night’s work, all in all. I thanked Tara in my head again as I reheated and ate the casserole serving she’d left for me. I did more cooking now I had my own little apartment, but I’d never be as good as she was at it. Tonight, I was very glad not to have to take time to prepare a meal. A bad night’s sleep, a long day and sitting attentively for hours had left me knackered. But before I went to my own place, I wanted to see my niece again. I loved to watch her sleep. All the kids, really, but only Nita slept with a nightlight. I crept into my old room, now redecorated in soft creams and greens for her, and gazed down at the cot. She had been born on a day of great excitement and great personal sorrow for me, and after high drama that could have ended not with a healthy baby and a tired, happy mother, but a grieving father and brothers coping with their loss. I’d never take her existence for granted. In her sleep, she suckled a little at an imaginary nipple, and squirmed, waving tiny fists. I held my breath, wondering if she’d wake, but she settled, dreaming the wordless, innocent dreams of infancy. I couldn’t wait until she was old enough to talk, but I treasured

being with her like this too. “’Night, sweetheart,” I whispered, standing at the door. I had my foot on the landing, ready to head back down the stairs, when I heard glass smashing. The power went out a second later. More glass breaking. I looked down the stairwell and saw the telltale red and yellow flicker of flames just as the house’s fire alarm went off. I pulled out my pocket torch, ran back to the nursery, and scooped Nita up, before bolting into the boys’ room. Both had woken but were still in bed. “Uncle Javen?” “Come with me, boys. Slippers. Quick.” I ushered them out into the hall, where smoke already rose. Yashi and Tara appeared, Tara also carrying a torch. “Out the back,” Yashi said. “Onto the deck and down the ladder.” I passed Nita to Tara and took Harshul’s hand as I followed Tara out through their bedroom and onto the new deck. I thought Yashi and Madhu were behind me, but then I heard, “Zimzim!” and “Madhu, stop!” I turned. Yashi had disappeared back out into the smoky hall. I couldn’t see Madhu at all. Fuck. “Javen, we have to get out!” Tara’s eyes met mine. Husband and son, or daughter and son? “Let me get you all down, and I’ll go after him. Hurry.” Outside on the deck, two battery-powered emergency lights let us see the path down the fire ladder past the windows of my little flat, and out into the garden. “Mummy, where’s Daddy?” Harshul said as I pushed him over to her. “Uncle Javen is going to look. Come with me.” “Go up the back, wake the neighbours. Let me have that torch, it’s brighter.” Flames glowed and spat from the windows of the lower storey of the house on both sides. Sirens blared in the near distance, and the neighbours’ lights were on. Tara would be okay. I had to get my brother and nephew. Madhu’s pet gulen lived in a cage in the living room. Madhu would have run there and Yashi gone there after him. I grabbed the garden hose and raced down the side of the house, looking through the broken windows, trying to spot a man and boy in the shifting flames and smoke. I swung the hose up, sending a spray of water ahead of me through the living room window. Not much against the fire’s brutal heat but it was all I had. “Yashi! Madhu!” I couldn't hear a damn thing with the flames and the water. I kept yelling as I used a

garden chair to smash the rest of the window in. Could they have made it here? Could they be alive if they had? “Yashi!” “Uncle Javen?” I ducked down below the smoke and crawled towards that faint frightened voice. “Madhu! Where are you?” “Over here! Daddy won’t wake up.” Behind the sofa. Madhu under Yashi. Yashi was...burned, not moving, and not conscious. “Hold on.” I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket. “Slide out, Madhu.” “Daddy!” “I’ll get him too.” The smoke was getting worse. Had to get them out. I slapped the handkerchief over Madhu’s face and tied it as best I could. “Hold that there. We’re going to crawl out, okay?” The smoke made my lungs burn and I could barely speak for coughing. Had to get out of here. All of us. “But Daddy?” “I’ll come back for him.” The flames blocked the way out. Kitchen? No, downstairs bathroom. I clutched Madhu to me and crawled, trying not to breathe, the wavering torchlight barely doing more but making the smoke easier to see. The bathroom was safe, and once I slammed the door behind me, we could breathe. Sort of. “We have to get Daddy,” Madhu insisted, tugging on my sleeve. “Soon. Let me get you out first.” I bashed on the small window, trying to break it. I could hear voices. “Help! We're in here! Help us out!” A male voice from outside. “Anyone in there?” A fireman. “Here! Man and child! Break the window!” “Hold on, we’re coming in through the house. Stay down.” I pulled Madhu onto the floor, and sucked in the cool, relatively fresh air. After what seemed like hours, someone opened the bathroom door and called. Smoke rushed in, but I thrust Madhu up at the fireman. “My brother’s in the living room, hurt. Behind the sofa.” “We found him. Let’s get you out.” He threw a fire blanket over us, and other fire officers sprayed a path clear with powerful hoses. In seconds we were outside and safe, coughing and sobbing with relief.

“Daddy!” I looked up. Madhu tried to run over to where Yashi lay face down on a stretcher, but the fireman stopped him, giving me a look. “Not yet, son. They’re busy. Let’s get you on oxygen.” I kept a firm grip on my struggling nephew as we were led to an emergency services vehicle, and medics took charge, slapping oxygen masks on both of us, and checking the minor burns and cuts. My lungs and throat really hurt now, but I couldn’t take my eyes off where Yashi was being worked on. Please, let him be alive. “Javen! Madhu!” Tara rushed over and Madhu wriggled free to fling himself at her. “Mummy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean Daddy to be hurt!” Tara hugged him and comforted him. Harshul, sombre as he almost never was, came to me. “Is Daddy dead, uncle Javen?” I brushed his hair back off his face, and pushed the mask back. “I don’t know, Harshul. I don’t think so.” He nodded and I took his hand. Over her son’s head, Tara looked at me in despair. I couldn’t reassure her. “I want Daddy,” Harshul whispered. “I’m scared.” “Me too.” I kissed the top of his head and felt like weeping too.

Chapter 2 Two hours later I was in a private ward, the doctors insisting my smoke inhalation was bad enough to keep me in overnight. Yashi was in surgery. Tara and the kids should have been on their way to the governor’s residence, but wouldn’t leave until they knew if Yashi would live or die. Mum sat with us, worried and pale. Dad would have been there too but our house hadn’t been the only one firebombed that night—a judge’s home had also been attacked. No one had been hurt there, though. Dad had only been able to drop in and comfort Tara briefly, before going off to deal with the press and the police. Tara was so strong. I’d broken down but she hadn’t, showing a calm face to the kids, though her anxiety and fear drenched my empathy. Now the children were asleep, the boys dressed in hospital clothes, cuddled together on the other bed in the room. Nita slumbered innocently in her mother’s arms. “It’s the Denge case, isn’t it?” Tara said after we’d all sat in silence for half an hour, thinking of a son, a brother, a husband, fighting for his life. “That judge...the Denge case. We were attacked because of your father.” “Could be,” I said. My mind was fuzzy because of the drugs, tiredness and worry. I hadn’t even considered who had reason to do something so horrendous. “I heard one of the fireman say it was all planned. The doors were blocked—they didn’t know about the fire ladder—and the power cut. They wanted us dead. The banis, I mean.” Mum drew in a breath and looked at me. “We don’t know who did it,” I said. “Who else would hate us that much?” “I don’t know.” We fell silent again, while I thought of what she’d said. I didn’t like to admit it, but Tara was probably right. Which meant.... I couldn’t deal with what it meant. I just wanted Yashi to be alive. A doctor with weary eyes came to the room a few minutes later. “Your husband came through the surgery, Shrimati Ythen. He’s in isolation, receiving intensive guan therapy to assist the healing and reduce the risk of infection. He’s still not out of danger.” “Can I see him?” The doctor shook her head. “Not now. He’s in an induced coma and I think it would be best to wait a little before you visit. I believe a room is being arranged for you here if you wish it. The governor ordered it. Best thing you can do is rest. We’ll keep you informed.”

“If he...survives...how badly scarred will he be?” The doctor hesitated, and that small hesitation told us what he didn’t dare say. Tara’s eyes filled, but she managed to hold it together. “It’s too early to talk about it. If he gets through the next two days, then his chances of survival are good. That’s when we can make decisions about further therapy.” Tara nodded and the doctor excused herself. Mum took her hand and Tara gave a little sob. “What if he dies? What if he’s crippled, Mum?” “Darling, you need to get some sleep. You all do. There’s nothing you can do now for him, but the children need you.” She reached over and pressed the call button. “Javen, you need to rest too. Your father and I will be here in the morning. None of you is to worry about anything. Not the house, money, anything at all. You’re our family, and we’ll make sure you’re all right.” She leaned in and kissed me. “Thanks, Mum. Tara, whatever happens, I’m here. You’re my family too.” “Thank you.” But then she burst into tears and Mum had to console her, and Nita woke up with all the upset and took it amiss. Finally, the staff took Tara and the kids away to a room where hopefully they would sleep. I wished I could be with them because now all I had to do was worry and being fucking angry at who’d tried to murder my family. I woke, startled by something—Madhu standing silently by my bed. The force of his grief and fretting had woken me. “What’s up, kiddo? Want to hop up here?” He nodded and I made space for him under the covers. I coughed with the slight exertion and he looked at me with worry lining his young face. “Are you still sick, uncle Javen?” “I’ll get over it. My lungs are just full of smoke. Does your mother know where you are?” “She’s asleep.” “Ah.” I reached casually for the call button. “You couldn’t sleep?” “I’m worried about Daddy. It’s my fault.” I hugged him. “Fires are scary, Madhu. People get confused and try to save pets and things. It’s not your fault.” A medic came in. “Uh, could you let my sister-in-law know her son’s safe and with me?” I asked him. “I’ll bring him over to her room later.” “Of course. How do you feel, Sri Ythen? Would you like that mask removed?”

He made a few checks on my status and turned off the oxygen. I still felt like I was breathing through wool, but I’d had smoke inhalation before. I’d live. “I did something wrong?” Madhu asked. “No one said I shouldn’t come here.” “No, it’s okay. Just didn’t want your mum to worry.” “Can we see Daddy now?” No, you really can’t, I thought. “Not yet, kiddo. He’s sleeping and trying to get better.” And trying to explain to a seven-year-old why his father looked like a side of barbecued meat shoved into a glass tank full of green goo, was beyond my powers. Guan gel was close to being a miracle treatment for burns and severe injuries, but the reality wasn’t pretty, and Madhu felt guilty enough without that. “Is the house burned down? Do we have any clothes?” “I don’t know, but you don’t have to worry. Granddad and Grandma said they’d sort all that out for you. The main thing is that all of us are alive.” “Zimzim died. I found him.” “I’m sorry.” His chin wobbled as he struggled not to cry, and I could only hold him, raging at the enemy who’d done this. I wanted them dead. Dead as in ground to dust dead. My mother, who couldn’t have had more than four hours’ sleep, came to the hospital an hour later. She clucked at Madhu sleeping in my bed, kissed my cheek, and said that a suite had been set up in the governor’s residence for all of us. She’d also found clothes and personal items for all of us, and she had already arranged insurance assessors to go over the house, once the forensic officers had finished. “Do we know who did it?” I asked. She frowned as I coughed. “Not yet. Your father is dealing with a rather difficult situation. He sends his love though.” “I want to find them. I want to help investigate.” “Yes, I’m sure, Javen. But right now, I think Yashi would appreciate you helping Tara and the children. They need you. Leave the rest of it to us, and the police for now.” I bit back a growl. I wasn’t angry at her, just the situation and my helplessness. Madhu stirred, and seeing his grandmother, wanted a hug. Mum played the kindly grandparent, but her eyes were full of worry. I needed to rein in my need for vengeance. Yashi’s family needed me, because they were my family too. “Oh, Kirin called to offer any assistance you or Tara might want. He didn’t want to call

your phone because...well, he wasn’t sure if it would disturb you.” “I’ll call him.” The thought of Kirin suddenly felt very welcome, and of course he was Yashi’s good friend too. “Mum, I’ll need to go to my office.” “Not today, you won’t. You can call people, or they can come to you. You can barely breathe, dear.” “I’m fine.” She narrowed her eyes and nodded slightly at Madhu. “No, you’re not. Not today.” “Okay.” She had a point. But I had to call Madan. With the best will in the world I couldn't have walked out of that hospital quickly. Between the need to be assessed before discharge, arranging for my smoky clothes to be taken for cleaning and replacements sent from the residence, looking after the boys for Tara while she tended to Nita and called the school, and sorting out the urgent administrative stuff to do with Yashi’s treatment and the insurance claims, it was nearly lunchtime before I could have left. But I didn’t because Tara didn’t. She needed time to take in the reality of Yashi’s existence, which was that he would be spending at least three weeks in the guan tank, in an induced coma and completely unaware of life going on. His condition had stabilised, so she was allowed to see him. Not the kids though. Neither of us would allow that. I couldn’t face looking either. After time for a long cry on my shoulder, and lunch, and clothes arriving for everyone to change into that didn’t smell of smoke or the hospital, she decided she could face moving to the residence. My parents and Kirin had all offered rental properties for our use but that was too much to cope with right now. A few days in the residence would give her time to make the big decisions. And by then, I hoped, my brother would be unequivocally out of danger. Not the same thing as back to normal though. That might never happen. An official government auto whisked us from the hospital to the residence. We found my mother and her staff had worked miracles to try and return the children’s lives to as much like normality as possible. Toys, books, clothes, media screens had all been set up in a warm, friendly bedroom, and in another room, an office for me and Tara to share. A nursery had been made for Nita, and Tara could only stand in the room and stare in amazement. “How...?” “A lot of people want to help, dear,” Mum said. “No kitchen, of course, but you’ve got enough to deal with. Javen, your father said he can speak to you when you’re ready.” Code for Dad needing to speak to me as soon as I could manage it. “Sure.” I kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s too much for you all. Nothing.” “Mum,” Tara said, “I’ll need to see the house.” “Yes, but not today, darling. There’s not much left, I’ve been told.” “It’s only things. But I just...want to understand what happened.” “Then I’ll arrange a driver for you tomorrow. You should rest, decide what else you need. Javen?” “I’ll just run along and see Dad.” I left Tara with Mum, knowing she was in good hands, and wondering what my father didn’t want to discuss in front of her. He was rather old-fashioned, protective of the womenfolk, but I had a feeling this was something else. Mum’s emotions were clouded by more than simple worry over all of us. My father was in the middle of a meeting, but despite that, his secretary ushered me into his office immediately, and he sent his other visitors away. “Javen, do sit. How do you feel?” “Better, physically. Mad as hell. Mum said you didn’t know who was behind it.” I sensed his conflict. “Dad?” “Judge Darn’s daughter and child were shot last night. The little girl died.” “Beloved reason. Someone’s claimed responsibility?” “Yes, though we haven’t told the news media. Javen...it’s the indigenous. A group calling itself ‘Justice for Nihan’ explicitly claimed responsibility for the firebombing of our family and Judge Darn’s home, the attack on Kaushek Denge’s estate, and this murder.” I froze. Even with Tara’s speculations, I didn’t believe.... “Is that credible?” “We don’t know, but for now, we have to assume the events are connected and Denge’s trial is the trigger. You understand this is very sensitive.” “Hell yes. What will you do?” “For now, increase the police presence, round up known radicals. But I wanted you to know because your friends—” “No one I call friend would do such a thing. Dad, I want to go back on active police service. I want you to make that happen.” He wouldn’t look at me as he answered. “Son, I understand, and I know just how much we owe you for saving Madhu and Yashi...but if you go back in uniform, you’ll be a target.” I clenched my fist. “You expect me to sit back and let other people find these

bastards?” “No. But going back as a uniformed officer isn’t the best use of your talents, nor the best way to protect Tara and the children. Can you be patient? It’s difficult right now, but I promise if we can use you, we will.” “I want them caught.” He lifted weary eyes to me. “And I don’t? I saw Yashi. I’ve seen the house. I saw the body of Judge Darn’s grandchild, and comforted him and his daughter. But if I have to worry about you out on the streets....” “I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do.” The right question because his emotions lifted a little. “For now, be there for Tara, the children, and your mother. Make no mistake, son, I’m relying on you to look after them. Tara’s going to need a lot of help, and your mother is frantic over Yashi. The boys will need you to stand in his place, until he’s well.” “That could be months. Or never.” “Let’s not talk like that. Will you go back to work?” I shook my head. “There’s nothing more important than this.” “I understand. We’ll help you financially in any way you need. There’s nothing more important to me than all of you. Nothing.” “Not even the job?” “Not even. But the job beckons.” I nodded, grateful for the time he’d taken when he had to have police, press and politicians screaming down his neck. “If you need transport, an auto is at your disposal. So is a bodyguard. You’re under direct, named threat, Javen. Don’t make me worry about you.” I stood. “I won’t. Same goes for me about you, okay?” He smiled slightly. “Of course. See you at dinner, I hope.” I could have been angry at the restrictions, but I sensed my father’s emotions, and they mirrored my own. He was worried almost to death about his family, and so was I. I didn’t believe any Nihan could be behind these crimes, or if they were, that they had widespread support. But if word got out about who was claiming responsibility, it would get very ugly. My mother had known about Judge Darn’s granddaughter and had kept it to herself. Once again I was reminded how perfect a partner she had been to my father, and how strong she was mentally. But she couldn’t carry the burden alone, or forever. Time to step up in Yashi’s place.

I did have to deal with my personal business, though. I called Madan from Dad’s secretary’s office. “Javen, thank the Spirit. The attack was all over the news. How is your brother?” “Not out of danger, unfortunately. I need to meet with you all. Can you arrange that for this afternoon?” “Uh, everyone’s in the office anyway. The strike was called off this morning in sympathy with the victims. People are horrified.” Were they all horrified, though? “Things will probably get tough for your people, you realise.” “When are they not? See you when you can get down here.” Dad’s secretary smiled politely at me as I closed the call and looked at him. “My father said I could have a driver?” “Yes, sir. Day or night, he said. I’ll have a vehicle collect you from the back of the residence.” I wondered whether my own had survived the blaze. When a sombrely dressed security officer joined me in an auto with dark-tinted windows, introducing himself as Agent Tordwel, I said, “I want to go past my brother’s house first. Is that okay?” “Yes, sir. Anything you want. But you’ll need to wear body armour.” He reached into the bag he’d brought with him, and pulled out a vest. “Are you carrying a weapon?” “No. I’d locked it in the gun safe in the house.” “Then take this.” He handed over a sleek Gauta .25 laser-sighted pistol in a holster, helping me into it and the vest. “We can arrange other weaponry as required, Sri Ythen.” “If someone’s waiting to pick me off from a roof top, that won’t help.” He looked at me with cold black eyes, his emotions as opaque as his irises. “We don’t know where the threat may come from, sir. You know what I’m talking about.” I did, in theory. But that was different from being the target of an active assassination attempt. Another active assassination attempt. The road to the house was blocked off, but our auto was whisked through once Agent Tordwel produced credentials. The house itself was crawling with overall-clad experts, watched by rifle-bearing cops. ‘House’ was a charitable description. ‘Charred, unrecognisable mess’ was a better one. The roof and upper floor had collapsed. Ironically all that remained in some form was the new flat and deck Yashi and Tara had built. They’d created a home for me, and lost their own.

I stared at it for a long time, thinking how very close we had come to losing everything —and not just a few material possessions—but also how much those few things, like pets and toys and letters and jewellery, meant to my family. I didn’t have much of that kind of thing to lose. All my documents were in safe storage, and I wasn’t one to keep love letters, but Tara and Yashi would have mementos of their courting. Locks of baby hair, first fumbled drawings by the twins. How much would it matter? “Sir? Are you all right?” I turned to Tordwel. “I want to hurt someone very badly.” “I don’t blame you. The banis bastards should pay.” “We don’t know who’s responsible, Agent Tordwel, and I’d appreciate you not speculating.” He stared back coldly. “My apologies, sir. Shall we go?” Dad wanted to keep a lid on the racial tension, but I couldn’t see him succeeding. Even without this ‘Justice for Nihan’ group’s claim, the Nihan were the obvious suspects. And dead children roused strong emotions, as they already knew. I hadn’t looked at a news feed all day, and even though now, in the auto, I could do so without interruption, I couldn’t face it—not the regurgitation of the attacks, the speculation, nor the interviews with the victims. It was all too close and raw. The press didn’t have the real facts, and they were what I craved. I envied Agent Tordwel. He could fight directly, investigate directly. He wasn’t burdened with my family’s name. My team’s anxiety hit me even before I opened the office door. No one spoke as I walked in, and Prachi actually covered her mouth as if afraid she might say something to upset me. “I think chai’s a good idea before we start,” I said, trying to sound normal and business-like, but failing miserably. Vik fled to put the kettle on. I pulled up my chair. “You guys all okay?” “We’re all safe and well, except for worrying like mad about you,” Hamsa said. “Please accept my sympathies about your brother.” “Thanks. It’s been tough for all of us.” She nodded. Prachi flushed, exuding discomfort. Madan, grim-faced, was worried underneath it. Terrific. I was about to make it all worse for them. “Vik? Leave the chai. We need to talk.” He stood in the doorway. “Water’s nearly boiled.”

“I know. Come in anyway, will you?” He stepped back into the room. “The fact is, I’m taking leave. I have no idea for how long, or if I’ll ever come back. I feel bad for abandoning you, but until we catch the people who did this, I won’t be able to think about anything else.” “You're rejoining the force for real?” Madan asked. “No. My father doesn’t want me to go back into uniform. Doesn’t mean I can’t help. These people tried to kill my family. They did kill a little girl.” “I’d do the same,” Vik said. “I’d never stop until I found out who and stopped them.” “Yeah. So...you understand?” “Of course,” Madan said as the others nodded. “Not saying you won’t be missed, but we know why you have to do this.” “Good. Then we should talk about workloads and such.” We spent an hour splitting up client files and deciding who would take what. But I couldn’t ignore Prachi’s continued discomfort and nervousness. Finally I turned to her. “Is something bothering you?” “No. I mean, yes. Boss...people are saying it’s us who did this. The Nihan. No udawa would do this, you know that, right?” “I haven’t made any assumptions at all. I can’t stop other people speculating.” “I know, but...what if it is? One of us, I mean. Can you work with us again?” “You work with me, don’t you? After all the Kelons have done to your people.” “Yeah, but this is personal.” She bit her lip and looked down. “Sorry for bringing it up.” “Don’t apologise. The answer is, I don’t think it will affect me, but this is new for me. I hope you guys will be patient, but I won’t blame you if you can’t be.” “We just want to help,” Vik said. “If we could catch these people for you, we would.” They were such great kids. “You never know. You might be able to. Whoever did this, is no friend to any of you, or your people. If you have any idea, hear anything, it’s to your benefit to report it. My father will come down hard on anyone harbouring terrorists—and so will I.” “None of us would do such a thing,” Madan murmured. I realised how threatening I’d sounded, and made an effort to smile. “Sorry. I know that. See why I need the time off? Being normal, thinking clearly, isn’t easy right now.” They all tried hard, and so did I, but I was glad to finally escape, even if it made me a

coward. Would I ever be able to go back? Even if the criminals behind this spate of terror were caught, it would be so easy for someone else with a grudge against Dad or the government to take it out on Yashi or me. If Dad left politics, then it would be different. But I didn’t want him to do that unless there was no alternative. He could do more good as governor than I could as a private investigator. I’d changed careers before. I could do it again. Agent Tordwel peeled himself off the wall as I exited the back way. “Back to the residence, sir?” “Yes...no. The hospital, first. And do you think it’s safe to visit Sri Kirin Nel at his work place?” “No, sir, I don’t. Sri Nel could come to the hospital, or to the residence. To be honest, the less time you spend outside and in unsecured areas, the happier the governor will be.” “Then to the hospital, please.” Hegal’s main hospital was modern and well-funded, but the private wing was a level above again in service and luxury. I’d always been conscious that Dad’s position had given me access my job and income couldn’t afford, but all the nice furnishings and leather chairs in the world didn’t make a difference to whether Yashi would live or die. No one raised the slightest objection to me going to the intensive care unit, and when I asked to see my brother, a polite medic took me to the treatment room without delay. The guan gel tank was as alien and disorienting as I remembered it, Yashi barely recognisable through the garish goo surrounding and supporting him. Healing him too, though that couldn’t be seen. By mercy or accident, the less injured side of his face was the one turned to me, but I knew what the other side looked like. Now we were different. All our lives, the fact we were identical had been something that had amused us, comforted us, sometimes confused us, always something we took for granted. But it wasn’t Yashi’s body I worried about so much as what would go on inside his head once he came out of this tank and was allowed to wake up. Disfigured, almost certainly disabled, facing rebuilding his home, and realising that all of our family could be now under a permanent death threat. He’d be returning to a nightmare. I wished that mythical bond between twins was real, that I could read Yashi’s mind as once I could so easily read his emotions. But Yashi was as dead and closed to me as the pane of glass on which my forehead rested. “See you soon,” I whispered, then turned away. I shouldn’t have come. It didn’t help. As we exited the lift, I heard my name being called. I looked up in disbelief but yes,

someone stood there who was as familiar to me as my brother. “Shardul? What are you doing here?” Agent Tordwel moved in front of me. “Sir?” I waved him back. “It’s okay, he’s a...friend. My father can vouch for him,” I added irritably as my guard radiated suspicion. “Let me talk to him, will you? I’m in no danger here.” “Sir,” Agent Tordwel said, disapproval clear. Shardul eyed us warily. I took his arm carefully and steered him away from the lift. “How are you? Why are you here? Is someone sick?” “Harinakshi. He was attacked last night by a couple of chuma men, wanting revenge for the fires.” “Sanity, that’s foul. How is he?” “He has a skull fracture, broken ribs, dreadful bruising. He’ll be in here a while. Roshni-ji’s very upset.” “I bet. Please, uh, tell her I’m sorry. Both of them.” He nodded, and looked down at his feet. Shardul never used to be diffident. “I heard about your brother. You have my sincere sympathies. A terrible thing.” “Yeah. I was just visiting him.” Clearly uncomfortable and tired, at least he wasn’t trying to get away from me. Not yet, anyway. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the last few days,” I said. “Since the Denge decision, and with the riots and everything. I wanted to help.” “You can, if you’re serious.” He was suddenly, surprisingly eager. “Your father. You’re on good terms with him now, aren’t you?” “Sure,” I said, confused by the sudden switch of topic. “We worked on the Denge case together. Didn’t do any good, though.” “Of course not, not with a Kelon jury. But you can still help, if you can talk to him. Our community is being clamped down on, our people arrested and questioned, treated like criminals—” I took a step back, rejecting his words. “Some of them are criminals. You want to protect the animals who did what they did to Yashi, to the judge’s grandchild? Them?” “No, of course not, but if you could ask the governor to go gently—” The rage inside built so fast I didn’t have time to stop it spewing out of me, all over him. “You’re out of your fucking mind. My dad is trying to catch these bastards before they

kill or maim any more fathers or children, and I’m going to help him. Go gently? You make me sick.” “Javen—” “Tordwel, I’m done.” I stalked off towards the exit, leaving my guard to catch up. “Javen, please just listen—” I didn’t look back. Shardul’s anger and shock followed me out of the hospital, but I didn’t care. How could he ask that with Yashi lying a couple of floors above me, his life and body in ruins? Sure it was tough to be indigenous right now, and I didn’t want the innocent harassed, but terrorists depended on the silence of their community to do what they did. Somebody knew who these people were, and I wanted them caught. I didn’t much care how. ~~~~~~~~ I felt a bit of a shit later, but Shardul was less concerned about the harm done my family than the inconvenience his community might suffer. That pissed me off as much as it disappointed me. He made no attempt to contact me. That pissed me off even more. I did my best to keep my feelings hidden, and make the evening as pleasant for the children and Tara as I could. My mother ate with us, and my father dropped in for chai and to play with the boys, but couldn’t stay for long. He excused himself before the boys went to bed, but I doubted he would see his own for many hours. Mum stayed longer, but though she put up a brave act, I sensed her thoughts were with Dad. She kissed my cheek as she said goodnight. I hugged her, wishing I could do more than that. I slept badly, nightmares waking me three times. After rising at three and reading for an hour, I managed to get back to sleep, only to be woken by a frightened little cry in my ear. “Uncle Javen, fire!” I jerked bolt upright and had Madhu in my arms and ready to run, before I woke up properly and realised there was no smoke or smell. Madhu’s terror was real enough, though. “Where’s the fire, kiddo?” “On the screen,” he whispered. “A house on fire. Like ours.” “Let’s turn the screen off then, okay? You don’t have to watch that kind of thing.” It was only six in the morning. The boys must have turned on the media screen— something they were normally not allowed to do at this hour, but the normal rules had been thrown out a little—and Madhu had seen some kind of news report. I found Harshul staring

at the screen in the living area. Madhu wouldn’t look, burying his face in my neck. “It’s all right, Madhu.” I reached for the controller to turn the picture off, but froze as a stream of Nihani hit my ears, and a man’s masked face came onto the screen. Blinking, I realised the Nihani had become Kelon as a reporter interpreted what was being said. “The terrorist in the video claimed responsibility for the arson attacks over the previous days and this morning on behalf of the ‘Justice for Nihan’ group. No one was hurt in this morning’s attack in the shopping precinct, but three premises were extensively damaged. More attacks have been threatened, and the police have issued warnings urging all citizens to be vigilant—” So much for keeping the Nihan connection quiet. I switched off the picture and sat on an armchair, settling Madhu on my lap. Harshul turned around. “That bad man had a mask, Uncle Javen.” “Yes, he did.” “There was a fire, just like our house.” “Yes, I know.” “Javen, is everything all right?” Tara came in, holding Nita. “Boys, did you wake up Uncle Javen?” “It’s all right. Madhu was frightened. There’s uh, been more arson attacks.” She clutched Nita a little closer. “We can’t live like this. I won’t raise a family in a war zone.” “What will you do?” Her lips thinned as she nodded slightly at the boys. “Let’s talk later.” “Later” meant while the boys were being tutored, a task Tara would have normally taken on, but in the circumstances, she had too much on her plate. She asked me to come to Mum’s office, for privacy. Dad wasn’t there. “Your father is holding a press conference, announcing a state of emergency,” Mum said when we sat down. “There’s been rioting and appalling violence overnight.” She looked even more tired than the day before. “I’m sure he’ll find time to talk to you both later.” “We understand,” Tara murmured. “But this is exactly why I have to make this decision. I’m going back to Kelon, to Gawarchi where my parents live.” Mum bit her lip. The intensity of her shock sent a stabbing through my left eye, but she didn’t respond. “Tara? Without even waiting to—”

She put her hand on my arm. “Javen, stop. I know what you’re about to say, but it’s Yashi I’m considering. The best reconstructive surgeons on either planet work at a specialist unit near Gawarchi. He’s going to need months of rehabilitation, but why not let it be under the hands of the experts? The doctors here actually suggested it.” “I didn’t know you’d talked to them about it.” “Last night. Only briefly but...after the news this morning...Mum, my own parents have never seen my children.” “I know, dear, but would you go...permanently?” Tara glanced down. “I don’t know. A lot depends on Yashi, and how things go here. I’ve been so very happy here, and I love you all so much. But I miss my Mum and Dad...and if we have to live like prisoners....” Mum drew herself up and gave Tara a smile that almost looked real. “You must do what feels best for you, Tara, and whatever you want to do, Rajan and I will support you to the hilt. As will Javen.” She eyed me with resolve that wasn’t faked in the least. “Yes, I will. Yashi can’t travel yet, though.” “No, not for several weeks. I...I thought I’d decided. But now I’m not so sure.” I took Tara’s hand. “Darling, there’s no hurry. You and the kids are safe, and Yashi’s getting good treatment for now. Think about it, and whatever you decide, we’ll help.” “Thank you. Thank you both.” She wiped her eyes. “Excuse me. Sorry.” She stood and left the room in a rush. I waited only to look at Mum who made an impatient shooing gesture, then I raced after Tara and caught her in the hall. “Wait, darling,” I said, sweeping her up into a hug. She broken down, and I could only pet her, and whisper soothing words until she calmed a little. “Oh Javen, I’m going to miss everyone.” “And we’re going to miss you, dear. So much. But you have three kids and a sick husband to think about. Do that. We’ll be fine. Really fine.” That set her off again. “It’s all right, Tara love. Shhh.” “It’s not. What if Yashi can’t walk again? Or do anything?” “He will. I know he will. The Ythen boys are tough. Look at yours.” She sniffled and laughed. “They are. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be silly.” I stroked her hair back. “Want me to come up to the apartment?” “No, I’m okay. But Mum....”

“I’ll go back.” I kissed her cheek. “My brother’s a lucky, lucky man. When he comes back, I’m going to remind him every day.” “You do that.” She rubbed her eyes and straightened up. “Thank you. Go on. Mum looked terrible.” I obeyed, and found my mother still sitting at her desk, staring at the window. She jumped as I closed the door. “Oh...I though you’d go with her.” “She says she’s okay. How are you? My mother would cut off an ear before she ever admitted how she felt. “I wasn’t expecting that, were you?” “No. But I don’t blame her. It’ll be rough for everyone.” “Yes. Rajan will take it hard, though he won’t stand in her way, of course.” She put her hand on her throat. “I don’t know if I can bear all this, Javen. Yashi, Tara leaving, our family being under threat. It’s never been like this before with your father’s career.” Mum had never ever opened up to me like this. She must be nearly drowning from stress. “You want him to resign?” “No! I won’t allow these...these hateful people to force him out. We’ve both worked too hard for that.” “I know. I don’t know if I can help, Mum, but I’ll try.” “Just having you here in the residence helps, darling. Tara and the children too, even if for only a little while.” Her eyes glistened. “Mum, have you had any sleep?” “An hour or two. I can’t nap now. Your father needs me.” “Then let me order you some chai and you can tell me if there’s anything I can do.” She dabbed discreetly at her eyes. “Don’t you have things to attend to?” “Not today. Not while you need me.”

Chapter 3 For a week we were in complete lockdown within the residence, while my father, grim-faced and exhausted, dealt with a city aflame with anger and hate. Weapon-bearing guards patrolled the halls, and if any of us ventured outside into the gardens, we always had a minder. I carried a gun with me when I wasn’t in the apartment, though I tried not to let the twins catch me at it. The residence and surrounding estate were closed to the public for the first time I could remember, and the smell of smoke floated thinly in the air, day and night from houses and shops—and even people—on fire. Madhu was my constant shadow, terrified by reminders of the night he nearly lost his Daddy, and no amount of attention could take away Harshul’s worry about fires suddenly breaking out in their rooms. I heard from Madan that the team was staying low and out of the city. From my other Nihani friends, I heard not a word, and nothing on news reports told me how they were faring. There were times I even wanted to call Shardul, but I resisted. I didn’t want to talk about his narrow worries when the entire city was in danger. There was nothing I could do to stop the rioting, the city’s disorder, nor to help my father do so. Nothing. I’d never felt so useless as an adult or a son. Tara made several long phone calls to Yashi’s doctors, and spent more time talking to my parents. I tried not to influence her one way or another, but every time I looked at the kids, I died a little inside, thinking of being apart from them forever. I could follow them, but there was nothing for me on Kelon, and I’d be dependent on them for company and support at a time when they were settling in. No, my parents were here, and Uterden was my home until I was forced out of it. That was all too possible given the state of tension between the races. She finally made up her mind when Yashi’s doctors told her of a new technique successfully trialled on Kelon which might restore him to almost perfect health—but which wasn’t available here. My mother made it clear that if she wanted to return, she would find her old life—house, Yashi’s practice, the boys’ school—ready to step into. Tara seized on the idea of a purely temporary stay with her parents. Whether she would really come back, we couldn’t know. We could only hope she would. I was reduced to anxiously scanning news reports to find out what my father was up to. After he announced the state of emergency, even my mother said she only saw him last thing at night. I would have liked to ask him what was going on, but my worry and curiosity weren’t any more important than any other citizen’s, and he had a big job to do. Dad called off the state of emergency after two weeks, and the city returned to apparent normality, though there were reports of sporadic fighting at night, and of increased

harassment of the indigenous population. Our family remained under threat, and so, under guard. Tara made her arrangements to leave, and I did my best to help her. Once she and the kids were safely on their way, I planned to insist to anyone that would listen that I had a right to help catch the people who hurt Yashi. To do that, I had to break out of the safe cocoon my father had built around us all. But as Tara and I sat in the guest suite one morning, a week before her planned departure date, going through a list of changes she and Yashi had wanted to make to the house and now could incorporate in the rebuild, a message came from Dad asking me to step along to his office at my earliest convenience. “You better go now,” Tara said. “I hope it’s not bad news.” So did I. ~~~~~~~~ Dad’s secretary ushered me straight into his office, where Dad and a uniformed man I didn’t recognise rose to greet me. “Javen, thanks for coming so promptly.” “No problem. Is everything okay?” He gave me a wry look. “Define ‘okay’. The situation’s stable, for now. But that’s not why I asked you here. Javen, this is Commander Reoda of the National Security Force.” I shook the man’s offered hand. He was easily Dad’s age, heavier, shorter, with a resolute set to his jaw. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” “And you, Sergeant Ythen. My research shows you had quite a solid career before you retired from the force.” I raised an eyebrow at the ‘retired’ but out of respect for Dad I didn’t push it. I took a seat. “Thanks. This isn’t a social visit, I guess.” “No, it’s not. Governor, shall I?” “Please. Javen, Commander Reoda has wanted to speak to you for some time, but with the situation with Yashi and Tara, and her needing your help, I put him off.” “But now she’s going away. I understand. Sir?” Reoda smiled encouragingly. “Actually, sergeant, your sister-in-law’s imminent departure is an opportunity for us. How would you feel about going deep undercover to help unmask these terrorists?” I leaned back in the chair and glanced at Dad. His face revealed nothing, and his emotions...well, he was tense and worried, but he’d been like that for ages. “I’ll do anything I can to serve, and especially to restore order for the whole community.”

“Ah yes, the governor made a point of stressing your...loyalties.” Shardul’s face flashed into my mind. I shoved the image aside. “My loyalties are to my family, my country and to the law, sir. I just happen to believe the law is for everyone.” “And those who break it, who may be friends, or friends of friends?” “No friends of mine if they do, not if they burn and murder and threaten. If you had any question about my loyalty, you wouldn’t be here, sir.” Dad winced but I ignored him. “What do you want me to do, and what does it have to do with Tara?” Reoda wasn’t fazed by my rudeness, and replied calmly, “We want Javen Ythen to disappear, and a man, apparently mixed-race, with a new identity and new appearance, to take his place. That man will infiltrate the militant groups as a sympathiser.” “The idea,” Dad said, “is to announce that you’re going to Kelon with Tara and the family, but in reality you’ll stay behind to have facial enhancement surgery. It will have to be done in complete secrecy. No one, not even your closest friends, can know.” I wiped my hands surreptitiously on my pants. “My appearance—would it be permanently altered?” “Not unless you want it to be,” Commander Reoda said. “That’s your biggest concern?” “It’s a concern, but not a big one. Yes, I’ll do it.” “It’ll mean spying on indigenous individuals, you realise. Posing as one of their own, and possibly leading to convictions.” I thought of Shardul again. I knew what he’d say. But this was more important than his feelings or mine. “I already said I don’t have friends who kill. My Nihani friends are as shocked by all this as you are. It’s hurting them a lot more than it’s hurting us.” “You want to be absolutely sure, sergeant. Undercover work is a massive strain on people. Friendships, relationships, can be shattered.” “I’m sure. But why me? Don’t you have mixed race officers you could use?” Commander Reoda coughed. “Ah, we have a slight difficulty in being absolutely sure of their allegiance.” “You realise I’m actually mixed race, just as my father is.” “Yes but...the circumstances are different.” My father tsked. “Javen, do you really want me to tell the commander you can’t be trusted?” “No, I don’t. Just pointing out a few facts. I don’t speak Nihani. Just a few words and

phrases, and I can read a little.” Commander Reoda nodded. “That’s fine. We’re working up a biography for you that will dovetail with your real skills.” “When do we start?” “When your sister-in-law leaves. You have until then to change your mind. Of course you could pull out at any time....” “I won’t. I’m an officer of the law, and I abide by my oath of service and loyalty. I want these bastards.” He smiled. “So do I. Governor, looks like our instincts were right. Congratulations on a brave son.” “Thank you. See you return him how you found him, please.” Dad didn’t smile at all as he said this. “We’ll do our best to equip him with the skills and backup he needs, sir. But it’s not a risk-free enterprise.” “Dad, don’t worry. I’m not planning to get myself killed.” It was the worst thing I could say. My father’s face drained of colour and he put his hand over his chest. “Javen,” he murmured. “I couldn’t bear that.” “Dad, it won’t happen.” “Sir, he’s well-trained, and will have full support.” Dad rubbed his forehead, then cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. And we all must make sacrifices. Javen, I’m sure you want time to digest all this, and please do think about it some more. Commander, thank you for your time. You’ll be in touch with my son, I’m sure.” I would have stayed and tried to reassure him, but we were clearly dismissed. Commander Reoda gave me a sympathetic look as we left his office. “I don’t want to offer him false promises of your safety, sergeant.” “I know. I also know what’s involved. I don’t need false promises either.” “Good. From this moment, your status on the police force register has changed from reserve to active.” I grinned. “Thank you.” I was a cop again, even if I couldn’t tell anyone. Even if it might just get me killed. “You’re welcome. Sergeant, I didn’t want to mention this in front of your father since he, ah, is somewhat distressed about the matter, but I have someone I need you to meet.”

“Now?” “Yes, please. We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll give you ten minutes to collect your weapon and body armour, and meet me at the security office.” “Yes, sir.” Back in the apartment, Tara smiled with relief as I returned. “Everything all right?” “Dad needed my help with something, and now I have to go out for a bit. Hang on, I just need to put my outside gear on.” The sight of me with my holster and armour never failed to distress her. “How long will you have to wear all that?” “For a while, I suspect.” I sat next to her, and let Nita grab my finger with her chubby hand. “You know I want to catch who did this to Yashi, don’t you?” “Of course. Javen, you’re not going back on the force, are you?” “No,” I lied. “Of course not.” “Are you sure everything’s okay?” I smiled and kissed her cheek. “Absolutely sure. I want you to have a good year on Kelon, but not too good so you want to come back, okay?” “So long as you and your parents are here, I always will. Be careful, Javen. Today, I mean.” I patted her hand and tickled Nita under the chin. “I’ll be back this afternoon, probably. I’ll take the boys out for a run on the estate, wear them out. See you soon.” The commander nodded with approval at my prompt arrival. We drove in his anonymous dull blue auto into the city. He gave me no clue as to our destination, and when, to my surprise, we pulled into the parking area of the central police station, he only glanced at me. I kept quiet, practicing creaky skills of being a good subordinate after years as my own boss. I’d long since stopped flinching around uniformed officers, but it felt weird to realise I belonged here in the station again, even covertly. The smell of the place plugged right into my basal brain, and I even found myself doing the cop walk—the lopsided one we all ended up using because of the equipment we carried on our belts and shoulders. “Miss it, sergeant?” Commander Reoda asked quietly as he led the way to the elevator. “Like a limb, sir.” “It gets into your blood, police work. You learn to see the world differently and you can never unsee it.”

So, another former cop. Not the usual career path for the security force, but not unheard of. Hadn’t been an option for me back then—but it was now, in theory. Dad would have a stroke. Once I thought I wouldn’t have cared. Now I knew I did. We headed to the low level, and despite myself, a fear shiver ran up my back. The basement was where bad things were dissected, the worst crimes discussed, the hardest criminals targeted. It was also the location of the high security cells, rarely in use in my day. I had a feeling they’d been busy of late. Cheap disinfectant, urine and sweat assailed my nose, and the stark, sickly coloured lighting had been designed to drain the heart out of a man. I’d always tried to spend as little time as possible down here when I’d been a cop. He took me to a small interview room. Another officer, a captain, rose and saluted him. “Sir.” He was young, unremarkable in appearance but with a keen intelligence in hooded eyes. He gave nothing away as he looked at me. I tried to look as if this was all routine. “Captain Largosen, Sergeant Ythen has agreed to help. I think he’ll be able to assist us with the current matter. Take a seat, sergeant.” I sat across from the captain, who opened the file in front of him, and slid a picture from it towards me. “You’re acquainted with this man, sergeant?” Shardul. It was an official police photo, and a recent one. I frowned at it. “Yes, sir. Has he been arrested?” “Two days ago on suspicion of communicating with terrorists.” “Shardul? Really?” The commander gave me a thin smile. “No. Oh, the police had enough to arrest and hold him, but it wouldn’t take a lawyer of his calibre to have the charges dropped. What we want is a lever. We need his help. Unfortunately, he has so far declined to give it or be persuaded into it.” “Or forced into it. Sir, you picked a really bad individual to intimidate. What do you need him for? He’ll never help the Kelons.” “We need him to do just that. It’s precisely because of his impeccable standing as a champion of his kind that we need him to help us plant agents such as yourself. No banis would doubt his recommendation.” “But he’ll never give it. I know him. You’d have a better chance of persuading Uterden to stop rotating.” Commander Reoda tapped Shardul’s picture. “I think you might have some influence. You and he were engaged at one point, were you not?”

I flushed. “No, sir. That was a stupid media story. We were friends...but not any longer.” “Ah. And yet you greeted him at the hospital in a friendly manner.” How long had they been watching me? “I’m willing to talk to him, sir. But I don’t think it’ll work.” “I’m willing to risk it. Captain, have the prisoner brought into the observation room. Sergeant, you know where that is, don’t you?” I didn’t like this, and I didn’t like the calculated smugness Commander Reoda exuded. Captain Largosen’s emotion remained spookily opaque—whatever his thoughts about this, he felt uninvolved emotionally, like this was just a game to them, and Shardul a pawn. Yashi’s life was more than a game, though, and if Shardul help find the people who’d tried to kill my family, then I’d do my best to persuade him. I went two doors down to the interrogation room. Five minutes later, Shardul, shackled and dishevelled and mad as hell, was hauled in and dumped into a chair. The guards left us glaring at each other across the table. He tossed his braids back with a disdainful flick. “Well, there’s a surprise. When you surrender your principles, you really do a good job, don’t you, Javen?” “Oh, shut up. I hear you’re communicating with terrorists. Not many principles there either.” “I was monitoring conversations of anti-indigenous agitators, something you advised me to do and which I’ve been doing for years. Oh, don’t tell me the terrorists are Kelons? Suddenly it makes sense.” “Knock it off, Shardul. We need your help to catch these people. Why won’t you give it?” He raised his cuffed hands. “I have no idea. After all, I was asked so very nicely.” I turned to the observation window. “Please unlock the restraints, sir.” A long delay. I imagined a pretty heated discussion was going on, but finally the locks emitted a beep and the cuffs fell away. Shardul didn’t move. “Oh thank you, master. In gratitude, I will fall down on my knees and do whatever master wants.” I gave him the finger. “These bastards tried to kill my family and crippled my brother, possibly for life. Help us.” “ ‘Us’ being the race which beat my cousin to a pulp, and killed a pregnant woman by

running over her in an auto four nights ago, not to mention the race which produced Kaushik Denge? You forget, don’t you. For every atrocity you can come up with against your people, I can list ten—and they go back a long way. You won’t guilt me into this, you won’t bully me, and you will never force me.” “But why won’t you help? These people are hurting yours as well as mine.” Did I imagine the very slightest softening of his snarl? His anger overlay the rest of his emotions, hiding them. “I know. But my own arrest shows the lax manner in which the law is being applied, how quickly our legal guaranteed rights are destroyed, and without protection being guaranteed, anything I do for you will oppress the innocent more than the guilty. I’ve spent my entire life protecting the helpless, and you want me to overturn that?” “They could arrest your aunt, or Rupa.” The look he gave me told me as much as my empathy did how much he despised me for saying that. “Do your worst, chuma. They would die, as will I, before we act to harm any innocent Nihan.” “I believe you. Tell me this—are you helping the terrorists?” He scanned my face, my eyes. I hoped he could tell I was serious, because I was. “No. Not in any way, and I never would.” “I believe you.” “Will you help me get out of here?” “Yes.” I turned to the window again. “I’m done here.” Commander Reoda had lost the smugness when he joined me in the corridor. Now he was coldly furious, walking with clipped, angry steps towards the elevator as if the very ground offended him. “Is that your idea of assistance, sergeant?” “I warned you, sir. Just let him go. Holding him is only inflaming racial tensions and he will never, ever help you under duress. No more than I will.” He turned and glared. “You’re here voluntarily.” “Yes, sir. So long as that remains the case, I don’t have a complaint. Shardul’s not a cop or a soldier. He’s a man more devoted to principle than any I’ve ever met in my entire life. If you want his help, you need another lever.” “Perhaps your father was mistaken about your loyalties.” “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, sir, because punching a superior officer isn’t considered nice.” “And I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear you threaten me because I don’t have time to sit

through a bloody disciplinary hearing. Fine. We can’t use him. Which probably means we can’t use you. Go back to the interview room and wait. I’ll have you taken back to the residence. Wait for orders.” “Yes, sir. Will you release him?” “Yes, yes, of course. As you said, we’re wasting time, and I don’t have it to waste. Good day, sergeant.” He stomped off, still enraged at my stupidity. Captain Largosen slipped out from the office where we’d met and caught up with me. “Excellent start, Sergeant Ythen. Congratulations.” He wasn’t angry despite the sarcasm. His emotional state hadn’t changed at all. Cold fish, or stone hard cynic? I couldn’t tell. “Thank you, sir. If you’re releasing Shardul, I’d like to speak to him before he leaves the station.” “Wait here. I’ll have someone let you know when he’s been processed. A driver from the residence has been summoned.” Too much trouble to take me back in person, I supposed. Shame about the poor first impression, but I honestly didn’t know how I could have done any different. If it had been someone who knew me less well, I could have bluffed and bullied, and with someone I knew less well, I wouldn’t have had so much conscience about what I was doing. But not zero conscience. I’d never cross the line between being one of us and being one of them. Not even for Yashi would I become what I hated. I waited half an hour before I got the message to come up to the detainee release area. Shardul was collecting his possessions as I walked into the section. He turned and saw me. His anger hit me like a slap. “More manipulation, Javen? Am I supposed to be overcome with gratitude?” “You can do what you like. Do you need money for a taxi, or a lift back?” His eyes narrowed. “Thank you, no. Your kind has done more than enough.” “I had nothing to do with your arrest. First I heard of it was less than an hour ago.” That made him hesitate. He put his things into his pockets and straightened his rumpled jacket. I’d never seen him look so tired or so shabby, and despite his hostility, my treacherous heart tightened a little in sympathy. “So why bring you in?” “They’re desperate. I’m desperate. My entire family are living under threat of death. My sister-in-law is taking the kids away to Kelon because she can’t live like this. I love this city, this country, and it’s being torn apart for no good reason that I can see. Even you have to admit this is doing no good.”

“No, it’s not.” He straightened. “But the real fault is with a legal system that lets a man like Denge walk free. By being here, working with them, you’re supporting it. I thought you understood that once.” He walked towards the door, dismissing me, though his emotions were much less contemptuous. I kept my voice low, pitching it towards his acute hearing alone. “We were friends once. All that changed was you pushed me away. I’m the same man I was then. Why are you so ready to believe the worst of me now?” He stopped, uncertain, and I thought he would turn and answer. But he moved forward and was outside the building before I could think of anything else to say. I’d disappointed everyone today. I supposed it was too much to hope that Shardul would see things my way, when he’d spent a lifetime opposing all I stood for and all my race had done to his. Like he’d said, I was the wrong colour. I always would be. I dropped in at the office where the team, back at work but wary of more trouble in the city, greeted me ecstatically. Even Prachi, sporting an ugly bruise on her jaw. I took her hand gently and drew her close. “What happened to you, kid?” She pushed me off just as carefully. “Kelons. I was walking with a friend, someone who looks....” She gestured at Vik and his red hair. “They began harassing her and when I yelled at them, one of them smacked me across the face. We ran for it.” “Sanity. Did you call the...no, of course not. I’m sorry, dear.” She shrugged, but the anger and hurt came through anyway. “Not as bad as some have had. Ask Vik about being chased back to his house the other night.” “Fortunately I’m fitter than most of these bastards,” Vik said with a grin. I looked at Madan and Hamsa in despair. “What can I do?” “Nothing,” Madan said. “Your father perhaps can do more. We can only endure. Not the first time.” “But this is the worst I can ever remember.” “Our history is longer than that,” Hamsa reminded me. “But it’s so good to see you, Javen. How is your brother? How are the children?” They did their best to make me feel welcome. Though I was officially inactive, Madan and Hamsa asked my advice on some minor issues, Vik and Prachi following every word as if they couldn’t get enough of me. I felt like a worm for abandoning them. “You guys are doing all right here though, aren’t you?” I needed that reassurance. “No

one’s harassing you during the day?” “We’d be happier if you were here,” Hamsa said, the others nodding. “We feel vulnerable.” “And we miss you,” Prachi added. Such a sweet kid. I’d missed them too, and I’d miss them a lot more if I went undercover. I said nothing about any of that for now. “I’d come back now if I could. I can’t. I don’t know when I will.” “So long as you do eventually,” Madan said, “we’ll keep your desk warm. Your name on the door gives us a little protection too. We’re keeping Vik in the office as much as possible.” “Which they don’t need to,” Vik burst out. “I can look after myself.” “Maybe, but you have to look after each other. I agree. Stick around until things calm down. Guys, I’m sorry. I wish I could be here to help.” “We’ll manage,” Madan insisted. “What will happen with your brother?” “Going back to Kelon with the family for treatment. I, uh, may go too. For a while,” I added as Prachi drew a shocked breath. “I haven’t decided yet.” “This is your home,” she whispered. “Yes. And I’ll come back, if I do go.” I gave her a hug, but I didn’t dare tell her the truth. I could only hope that going undercover might mean a safer future for the kids, and all my team. There you go, Commander Reoda. I’d laid the ground in case he went ahead with his plans after all. And if he didn’t...well, then, I’d fight our enemies some other way. I wasn’t sure how, just yet, with Dad blocking my return to uniform. I’d think of something. Tara scrutinised me carefully when I went back to our rooms at the residence, then gave me a hug I really needed. “Wherever we are, Javen, we are your family. We’ll never abandon you.” “I know, darling.” I let her hold me for a second or two longer, then straightened up. “Right, let’s have our picnic.” We took the boys out on the estate for a snack, a vigorous ball game, and chases around the trees to wear out the twins’ energy. Tara, watching them and holding Nita, looked the picture of content, proud motherhood. But I couldn’t avoid knowing she was worried about me—about everything. For all our support, the burden of the decision lay on her, and it was so unfair. She shouldn’t have been in this position. Since the fire, I’d made a special effort to make the evenings with the children as rich

and happy for them as I could without Yashi’s presence. Until he emerged from the tank and his induced coma, Tara would have to manage this on her own on Kelon. I didn’t know her parents, and couldn't guess how much help they’d be. “Wish you didn’t have to go,” I murmured at the doorway of the children’s bedroom, after we’d finally convinced them to turn the lights off and go to sleep. “Me too. Oh Javen, am I making a terrible mistake?” I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight. “If you are, it’s easily fixed. You only have to stay long enough for Yashi to have the essential treatment. You both can come back and finish things here in a couple of months.” “Yes, I suppose so. But I’ll miss everyone so much. I feel like I’m losing everything.” She wiped her eyes. “So weak.” “Not even slightly. Early night?” “Yes, I think so.” She kissed my cheek. “We will come back. I promise it.” I knew she meant it. I also knew a lot could happen between now and then. I couldn’t sleep, and didn’t try. I switched on the media screen and watched the news with the sound on low. The reports of sporadic violence were fewer than we’d become used to, but I found it hard to concentrate anyway. I kept thinking about Shardul, and what had been done to him. What I’d been part of, and how I’d handled it. Looking back, it was a wonder he hadn’t spat on me as he left the station. I doubted I’d have scraped up as much grace, little though it had been, as he had. I’d agreed to the undercover mission without much thought. Now it looked like a washout. Had I been too quick to sign on? Would my team have been so friendly and welcoming if they’d known what I’d planned to do? Madan would understand—Nihan or not, he was a cop in his soul. Hamsa? Vik? Prachi would feel utterly betrayed. I could never face her if she knew. Unless I caught the terrorists. That would change everything. My phone went, on the quiet buzzer. It was after ten, and no ID on the screen. “Hello?” “Javen, it’s Shardul.” I sat up. “Still had my number then.” “Look...can we meet? We need to talk.” Months and months I’d dreamed of this call. I didn’t believe it now it had come. “When?” “I know it’s short notice, but now?” Was it a trap? Fuck it, I hated the suspicion. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“I...don’t want people to see us talking.” “I need to bring a guard. Dad’s orders, no exception.” “I meant my people. I don’t care what you Kelons see.” “If you’re going to be like that—” “Sorry.” He drew in a deep breath. “Name the place, bring your guard. I just want to talk.” “My office?” “Too close to our neighbourhood.” “River park then. The only people who’ll see us will be necking lovers.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I think you’ll find the lovers have been scared off by the riots. I’ll meet you there in half an hour. Main parking area.” I closed the call. Should I call Commander Reoda? He’d hear from my guard soon enough. If I didn’t tell him, my loyalties would be questioned. But if Shardul only wanted to talk about the things he’d run from months earlier, that was none of Reoda’s business. No, first I’d meet with Shardul and then decide if the commander needed to know. Agent Tordwel did his best to persuade me not to go out. “Are you crazy, Sri Ythen? This is a classic set up.” “And we both know that, so we’ll be prepared. You don’t have to come.” “The governor won’t be pleased.” “The governor doesn’t need to know. Look, I’m going. Either be out by the vehicle pool in three minutes or I’m leaving without you.” He growled and hung up. I grabbed my gun and body armour and put them on as I left the residential wing and walked through the darkened quiet halls of the main building. Yes, it could be a trap, but the Shardul I knew would never do such a thing. Not to me. Nothing I’d seen today told me he’d changed that much. Agent Tordwel’s disapproval and irritation rolled over me all the way into the city. I ignored it, and him, impatient to get this over with. There were no other autos in the parking area. Despite Shardul’s comment, I couldn’t help finding that suspicious. “Do you think someone knows about this?” I asked my sulky companion. “You already know what I think, sir.” “Great.”

A minute later, Shardul’s vehicle pulled up a little way from us, and Tordwel motioned for me to stay as he slid the door open. “Wait here, sir. I’m going to check him out. You can talk to him here.” I felt like snapping a salute and a “Yes, sir” to the little bastard, but it wasn’t worth it, and he was only doing his job, even if he was being a snot about it. A light went on in Shardul’s auto, and a few moments later, silhouettes indicated Tordwel patting Shardul down damn thoroughly. Terrific. Just the thing to put him in a good mood before we talked. The auto door opened and Shardul came in, Agent Tordwel staying outside. “Sorry about that,” I said, though Shardul wasn’t particularly angry. “We’ve had some very specific threats.” “From my people. I know.” Shardul sat, keeping a careful distance away. “I, too, wish to apologise for what I said today...and...the other time.” “We gave you cause, Shardul. I’m not angry. I’d give anything for all of it not to have happened.” “I know...and that’s why I wish to apologise. You said you hadn’t changed, and that was correct. I’ve changed. I wish I hadn’t.” “You’re still the same upright, brave, snotty prick you always were,” and despite his depressed mood, he snorted in amusement. “You didn’t need to drag me out here in secret to apologise.” “No. I’ve given some thought to what you said today, and spoken and prayed with Roshni-ji about it. You understand my problems with helping the Kelons.” “I don’t blame you for loyalty to your own. Just don’t hold it against me.” “I don’t. But you’re right to say this outbreak of violence hurts our people more than yours. We want it stopped too, but we want it done in a just manner. Can you guarantee that?” I shook my head. “It’s a dirty business, chasing terrorists. Worse when the bad guys and the good guys look exactly the same.” “To us too, don’t forget. Our community is tearing itself apart over this. The death of a child, the attack on your family—especially your family, Javen—revolts people. But so does what the police have done since. It has to stop, and like it or not, your father can help.” My temper rose again, but this time I clamped down on it before I said something hurtful. “I’m not going to ask Dad to go easy on the indigenous for you, Shardul. I can ask him to make sure the police are behaving in a moderate manner but if he tells me not to interfere, I won’t blame him. The best answer is for the Nihan to give up the killers.”

“We would if we could. You don’t understand—there is no appetite for protecting these people. But we already see how many innocents are being hurt as collateral damage.” “So help us catch them.” In the dark, he was silent. I felt his ambivalence, even fear. He wanted to help me—to make amends according to his honour code if nothing else—but he distrusted my people. For which I didn’t blame him at all, however angry he’d made me. “What do they want me to do?” he asked finally. “I really can’t discuss it with you here.” “They could have just asked me. There was no need to arrest me.” “Yeah, they could. Look, I’m sorry how it went down. But I’m not sorry they need you. If you want to talk to them about it, I can arrange it. Otherwise, this part of the conversation is over.” Again he fell silent. I waited. This was a big deal, not an easy decision. And being with me couldn't have helped. Being around him roused up all kinds of feelings in me, and I did the same for him. Whether for the same reason, I had no idea and wouldn’t ask. That boat had sailed a long time ago. “I was going to call. I never found the courage.” “I wish you had,” I said. “I wasn’t angry. I would have listened.” “It wouldn’t have been fair. Not to you.” That was the first time I’d had any inkling he’d listened to what I’d said that night, or realised what it meant. “Doesn’t matter,” I said roughly. “Do you want me to set up a meeting with the security people or not?” He sat up straighter in response to my abrupt question. “I’ll talk to them. No more. And I’ll agree without duress, or not at all. Make them understand that. My family and friends are all prepared for whatever might be thrown at them. The Kelons won’t use them to force me to do a damn thing.” “I’ll make that clear. I already have. That’s why they let you go.” “Typical. I’d been saying that since I was arrested, but you, they listen to. I’ll await a call.” “Okay. Thanks, Shardul.” He hesitated. “No. I’m not doing it for you. Be clear about that.” “Got it. No favours for Javen.” “Not on this, at least.”

He opened the door, and Agent Tordwel came to attention with an abrupt shuffle of his feet. Shardul ignored him as he looked back at me. “Perhaps...when this is over, we should talk properly.” “I’d like that. But only when you’re ready.” He nodded sharply and left the vehicle. Tordwel stayed on alert until he drove away, and then got into the auto beside me. “So, was that a waste of time?” “‘Sir’,” I reminded him. “Not at all. We need him. Medele needs him, Hegal needs him. So don’t piss him off, please.” “As you wish, sir.” Prick. “Let’s go,” I told the driver. I’d contact Commander Reoda in the morning. Whether Shardul would actually agree to work with him, I had no idea. But at least this was a start.

Chapter 4 The commander didn’t exactly propose marriage out of sheer delight, but his tone was slightly friendlier than it had been when I last spoke to him. “We’ll bring him in this morning.” “I want to be there, sir.” “No can do, sergeant. Your involvement has to be kept quiet.” “Too late for that, sir. Shardul has already been mishandled, and his cooperation is by no means guaranteed. You need him, so let me help. He’s too smart to fool, and he’ll work out what’s going on anyway.” “If he gets stroppy, I’ll lock him up again. I won’t put up with any nonsense from a bloody banis.” “Sir, with respect, you do that and I’ll bring my father into it. Shardul has an interplanetary reputation as a lawyer and jurist. You got away with a brazen abuse of the law once. You won’t again. I won’t let you. I won’t let you make us into what we’re fighting.” “You’re a pain in the arse, Ythen. If you weren’t the governor’s son, I’d have you removed from the police register with the blackest of black marks, and your security rating would be so low you wouldn’t get a job cleaning toilets.” “Well, I am the governor’s son, sir,” I said, pushing my fucking luck. “And I’m Shardul’s friend. I want to be there to help him and you both. I was right about him yesterday. Trust me to be right again.” “Screw this up, sergeant and your daddy won’t help you because they won’t find all the pieces.” “Sir. Shall I ask him to attend the meeting?” “I’ll handle that, sergeant. You’ve done more than enough.” Fuck you too, I thought as I closed the call. I was seriously going off the guy. But give him credit, he’d learned something from the mess he’d made of handling Shardul first time around. This time he arranged a meeting in a regular, if anonymous, office hired for the occasion, and greeted Shardul with respectful politeness. “Sri Rishabh, we really appreciate you giving us a second chance. I want to apologise personally for the way we went about this.” “Thank you, commander. I’ll accept your apology, and a personal donation to the

Indigenous Education Fund of a thousand dolar.” Commander Reoda’s lips thinned and I felt the blast of his anger, but he only nodded. “Of course. That’s more than fair. Do please, take a seat. Chai?” “No, thank you.” He turned to me and nodded formally. “Good morning, Javen.” “Hello, Shardul. Appreciate you coming.” Commander Reoda tapped the desk with restrained annoyance. “Sri Ythen asked to be here to assist in this matter. Naturally I agreed. We want cooperation, not coercion.” “Now,” Shardul said, raising his eyebrow. Sanity, I’d missed that sardonic look. “I’m still at a loss to understand why my involvement in your plans is so crucial.” “You understand that telling you about this introduces a possible breach in our security. Before I explain, I will need you to sign an official undertaking not to reveal anything of this conversation, on the pain of a lengthy prison sentence.” He handed over a form on a clipboard. Shardul sat back to read. Commander Reoda tried not to show the impatience he felt, but he was an idiot if he’d expected Shardul to sign without checking every clause. Still, I held my breath as Shardul put the form back on the desk, unsigned. “I can’t sign that. It’s asking me to agree to concealing information which may be detrimental to the state.” “It does not!” “It says I can’t reveal anything I learn under privilege. However, that doesn’t exclude the possibility of me learning, for instance, the identity of the arsonists. Or those who plot to murder the governor and his family.” “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s obviously not intended by the form.” Shardul raised his eyebrow again. “I can only go by the wording, commander. I am a lawyer, after all. And traitors have been uncovered from within the establishment in many regimes over history.” This was all going to shit, and at high speed. I held up a hand as Commander Reoda drew breath to yell. “Excuse me, sir. He does have a point.” “Be—” “But you’re both forgetting something.” The commander exhaled, and Shardul turned to me with a curious expression. “What’s that?” “You’re a sworn officer of the court. You’re already bound by an oath not to breach

government confidentiality....” “Except when not doing so constitutes a violation of state security or a breach of existing law.” “Yeah. So, you don’t need to sign anything. You’ve already agreed to do what Commander Reoda wants. Correct?” “Indeed. And as a responsible lawyer with an impeccable reputation, I would never breach my professional oath or ethics. Not to mention that I’m no fool, commander, and am not going to put myself at risk of being imprisoned or assassinated just to pass on some gossip. So can we please move on?” I wanted to kiss him, or hug him, or do something that would probably piss the pair of them off. I’d missed this—him—so much. Such an annoying, lovable arsehole. Commander Reoda had obviously reached his rank for the ability to hold onto his impressive temper when he needed to, because he didn’t draw his weapon and shoot Shardul as I knew he desperately wanted to. “Yes, let’s. Sri Rishabh, there is an indigenous individual currently under surveillance. We believe he supplies and supports a group which is the most likely source of the recent violence. That individual will shortly be arrested. We want you to offer to represent him, and insinuate yourself into his trust with the aim of introducing one of our agents to his circle. That agent will carry out a deep cover operation to determine who’s behind these attacks, and stop them.” “So you want me to offer representation under false pretences to a client, and then betray my professional ethics in relation to that individual. Am I missing something?” Reoda’s lips thinned in a menacing fashion. “The part about him being in collusion with terrorists, I think. You won’t really be his lawyer.” “Oh?” “You’ll be playing a role, Sri Rishabh. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” “I’m not. I’m trying to point out that you’re asking me to break the law. And as an indigenous person in this country, forgive me if I don’t believe the government will offer me the same protection it will offer Javen when he goes under cover.” I hissed in a breath. Fuck you, Shardul! “You told him!” Commander Reoda bellowed at me, on the verge of bursting into flames. “No—”

“You just did, actually,” Shardul said politely. Smug little shit. “So can we stop this pretence? Who’s the person you want me to deceive, and what is the evidence of his wrongdoing?” “Not so fast. That’s need-to-know.” “And I need to know. Commander, you don’t have a hope in this galaxy of getting my cooperation until I know who I’m supposed to be screwing over in the name of national security.” “And you don’t have a hope in hell of getting that information out of me until I know you’ll cooperate, which you clearly never will.” Reoda slashed his hand in Shardul’s direction so violently, it came very close to actual assault. “Sergeant, get this man out of here. He’s wasting my time. I’ll decide how we’ll deal with the breach of security later.” Neither Shardul nor I moved. “Sir,” I said. “At some point, there has to be some trust. Shardul’s shown good faith turning up today after the, uh....” “Wrongful arrest, imprisonment and intimidation,” Shardul supplied in a perfectly polite tone. “Yeah, that. For all he knows, you want him to traduce his best friend.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Ythen. He’s playing a game and playing you for a fool. I’m not surprised, considering what I’ve heard about you and your preference for white meat.” I growled in anger. Shardul stood. “He’s right, Javen. This is a waste of time. Shall I see myself out?” “No, I’ll come with you.” I stalked to the door, furious and humiliated. Shardul held it open for me, and we walked out together. “Just like old times,” he murmured, and I huffed in disgust. “I need a drink.” “Chai. Too early for booze, unfortunately.” “Let’s get out of here. I’m ditching my fucking bodyguard. Anyone who wants to shoot me today can have their go.” We headed to the elevator. I didn’t know whether to be angry that Shardul was vaguely amused, or amused that he took Commander Reoda’s anger so lightly. But then he probably faced bullying authority figures all the time in court. I palmed the elevator control but before the car arrived, Captain Largosen materialised —from where, I wasn’t actually sure. “Gentlemen, come with me, please.”

“No,” Shardul said. “Your superior just threw us out.” “I know. Please come with me.” I nudged Shardul’s arm. “What can it hurt? They won’t arrest both of us.” “They don’t need to. You’re too trusting, Javen.” “Gentlemen, please?” Captain Largosen indicated we should join him in the elevator, so we did, though I thought it was a lousy idea. Shardul was a little worried but mostly curious. I hoped he didn’t place too much faith in my ability to protect him because in the current circumstances, I didn’t have anything like as much influence as he might think. We were headed to the underground parking area, and as we left the elevator car a dark auto pulled up. “Please get in,” the captain said politely, though the option to refuse was missing from his tone. “Where are we going?” “Nowhere. This is more discreet, that’s all. Please, Sri Ythen.” So we got in, Shardul remarking conversationally, “I wonder if the commander realises that it was the assiduous way he referred to you as Sri Ythen, when all your cop buddies always call you ‘sergeant’, which gave his plan away.” “Damn, you’re good.” “Nice to know I haven’t lost all my edge.” The captain, climbing in beside us, cracked a small smile. “Drive on,” he said to the driver. “Clearly we have underestimated Sri Shardul.” “Clearly,” I said, unamused by just about everything. “What do you want, sir? Commander Reoda told us to get out and I’m not inclined to give him a second chance.” “The commander isn’t in charge of this particular operation. I am. I was listening to your discussion. Sorry he didn’t handle it particularly well.” I blinked. That kind of overt criticism of superior officers didn’t usually come out of army type mouths. “You’re not military.” “Yes, I am. Just capable of independent thought as well. Sri Shardul, do you know a man called Sanjeev Unnat?” “Yes. I’ve heard of him, that is. He’s a businessman. Completely respectable. He’s the one you wish to target?” “If he was, how would you feel about it?”

“Not immediately thrilled. Tell me more, captain.” “As you say, he appears completely respectable. However, he’s been in frequent communication over the last three months with Garle. We believe radical elements in Garle may be supplying funds to militants here, as well as inciting religious fervour. You’ve heard nothing of this?” “None. I know of no one in contact with Garle. Their path to the Spirit is not what we have chosen.” He radiated faint disgust. Garle was something of a swearword to the udawathei in Medele. “Captain, you realise if you involve me in this, in the manner the commander described, you’ll have no chance of prosecuting Sri Sanjeev on any matter on which I’m supposed to have advised him? And that you’ll compromise my reputation as an honest broker should you wish to use me for less nefarious purposes?” “Yes, I do. Both are acceptable risks. We’re not interested in Sri Sanjeev. I want to catch those behind him, and sweep up those who pose a danger. He’s a criminal, but not our main target.” “I understand. I wonder why the commander could not have explained this without all the dramatics and insults, and why you’re prepared to trust me now. I could, after all, go straight to Sri Sanjeev and warn him.” The captain smiled. “You won’t. Not because you’re afraid of us, because you’re certainly not, but because you’d never endanger your friend in that manner. I watched your interactions yesterday and today. We’ve been watching you both for some time—and before you bristle, sergeant, it’s only natural, given your family and position. We gave you plenty of opportunities to reject Sergeant Ythen personally, and yet you walked out of the meeting just now together, united. Your loyalty to your race and your religion does not supersede your personal loyalty to your friend.” “You planned this from the start,” Shardul said. “It was never me and some random agent. You chose me because of Javen, and Javen because of me.” The captain nodded. “Yes. An undercover operation of this nature can’t succeed without very strong support and absolute trust. So I only need to know if you’ll do it because I know if you agree, you can be trusted. As can, indeed, Sergeant Ythen.” I was lost for words. Even Shardul was taken aback. “Does Commander Reoda know what’s going on?” he asked. “Not as much as he believes. That’s for your protection too. Both of you.” “If Shardul doesn’t agree, what will you do?” The captain shrugged. “Try and find another way to gain Sri Sanjeev’s confidence. We

can’t just arrest and charge him because the terrorists will simply close off that connection and find another. Our problem is the intense distrust of the Kelons among the indigenous. Someone apparently of mixed race with little connection to the community will be automatically suspected of being a spy, unless we have someone of Sri Shardul’s reputation to vouch for them.” “A problem of your own making, captain.” “I’m aware of that, Sri Shardul. Will you do it?” He steepled his fingers under his chin, glancing at me before he answered. “I need time to think, and an assurance of no reprisals for refusing.” “What would be the point of a reprisal? It has to be unforced cooperation or nothing.” “You expected him to refuse,” I said, now more than a tad irritated by this game and the captain’s ridiculously calm demeanour. I wanted to see him ruffled at least. “The arrest was a test for me, not him.” Largosen didn’t take offence. “No, actually it was part of the profile we need to build up. Now Sri Shardul has a perfectly legitimate reason to complain about the police, appear resentful and in need of revenge. His arrest was widely reported in the community, as we intended.” “So nice to know one is simply a cog in a great, malignant machine,” Shardul said, eyeing me. “I’ll give you my decision in two days, if not before, but I want the arrests being made now to be cut back. That’s my price. Fair policing under the law. I shouldn’t have to ask.” “I’ll do what I can but that’s not under my control.” “I’ll speak to Dad,” I said. “Put it to him that it’s making attacks more likely.” “Which it is. You’re radicalising peaceful citizens.” Still looking at me, asking me to understand. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. The captain interrupted. “You can have your two days, but time is short, Sri Shardul. Please try to be speedy.” He ordered the driver to take us back to the office block, for me to rejoin my own transport, and Shardul to catch a taxi back to his office. “It would be unwise for you two to meet again in the short term,” the captain warned, leaning out of the open door. “The apparent lack of friendship between you is useful to our plans.” He slid the auto’s door closed and drove off. Shardul and I looked at each other. “Is it

apparent or real?” I finally asked. “I was never your enemy, Javen. I have to go.” I waved him off, conscious he hadn’t answered the question I wanted answered. Maybe he never would.

Chapter 5 Shardul only took a day to make his decision, news passed to me by Captain Largosen. I tried not to be disappointed he hadn’t called me himself. Now Largosen had what he needed, the scheme to transform me into someone else was green lit. He was gracious enough to let me say a proper farewell to Tara and the children at the residence, but a lookalike boarded the space cruiser in my place, and I never saw Yashi safely loaded in his medipod. As soon as the family left the residence for the spaceport, an auto arrived to collect me and take me to a secure medical facility within the military compound at Paradok. The facility would be my home while I healed and prepared. Captain Largosen met me there, and an assistant took us to the room where I would stay. The main difference between it and a prison cell was the bathroom off the side. Apart from that, the spare facilities and the depressing grey-green decoration would have fitted perfectly in Hegal central prison. The bed was softer, at least, than those in the police station cells, and the media screen was certainly not a feature there. “The surgeon will be along to talk to you after lunch. The procedures are straightforward and shouldn’t cause you too much discomfort. You’ll be imitating this man, Gafur Kawildin.” Largosen opened up the media screen, inserted a data stick and showed me a picture. “He works as an administrative officer in the central Hegal police station, under its chief.” “I’ll be taking his place?” The man bore a superficial resemblance to me—or me to him. “Won’t people notice?” “No, because you won’t be replacing him as such. The man is Kelon, not mixed race, and of impeccable loyalty. Your back-story will be different. You will play the role of a disaffected mixed-race banis who has been raised as Kelon by his divorced father, but resents being removed from his heritage, and who now seeks to establish himself within the indigenous culture and religion. This will explain your appearance and your relative lack of familiarity with the language. This officer will continue to work as usual, and has moved to a new apartment under our instructions. He will keep to himself, the better for us to shift you in and out of the scene as needed. If and when Sri Shardul gains Sri Sanjeev’s confidence, he will drop your name as a potential leak from the police service.” Blending fact and fiction. “This guy doesn’t mind having a reputation as a traitor?” “He understands and supports the plan. As I said, he has impeccable loyalty.” Nothing in the captain’s tone or emotions said, “unlike you”, but I still heard it. “Databases and

records will be altered so that if anyone checks DNA, prints, images, voice recordings and so on, the false identity and history will be obtained.” “You think you have a leak already?” “We have to allow for the possibility, unfortunately. You will assume the role of a former police officer, just as this man is, retired from active duty because of injury. Unlike him, you will appear bitter over your treatment by the service. It’s important you give a credible impression of wanting a chance to get back at a race and an employment you feel has treated you shabbily.” “Understood. Uh, one problem, sir. I’m empathic. If I’m introduced to anyone with the same ability, they’ll detect that, and know my work history has to be crap.” “Already considered, sergeant. One of the facial implants will contain a simple harmonic canceller. The physical sensation you experience in the presence of others with your ability is caused by the resonance of ultra-high frequencies empaths emit. These hyperstimulate an area in the brain, giving the feeling of tingling—quite harmless, except in this situation.” “Okay.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about electronics being embedded in my face. “Other implants will carry tracking and monitoring devices.” He laughed. “ Don’t look so worried. You won’t even know they’re there, and everything will be removed once you finish this mission. I’m told you can even have a free face lift at the same time.” “No thanks. I just want my face back how it is now, no better, no worse.” And, I hoped, the mirror image of Yashi’s again once he finished the long road to recovery. “So my preparation is...?” “Brush up your Nihani, read briefings from our officers, and meet with Kawildin to copy his speech and mannerisms. That aspect isn’t essential—you won’t have to imitate him to the face of anyone who knows him well. On the data stick is a full assessment of him, images, videos, voices recordings and other background material. Once contact is made, we will have you and Sri Shardul meeting in public, to establish a connection.” “His friends know me very well.” He smiled unpleasantly. “By the time our surgeons finish with you, sergeant, your own mother won’t know you. If you can do your best to imitate Kawildin’s speech patterns, tone down your own, that will help.” “You’re pretty confident, considering how much we’re relying on Shardul, and this Sanjeev Unnat falling for the trick.” “Would you prefer me to be uncertain and fearful, sergeant? I believe this plan has a

high chance of success, at least so far as introducing you to Sri Sanjeev. After that, it becomes more difficult to predict. I’m told you’re a man of resourcefulness and intuition, so I’m relying on that. You’ll have a chance to brush up your weapons and personal skills. It’s up to you to identify what other assistance you require, and I’ll do my best to provide it. Any questions?” “Who can I remain in contact with?” “Your father, and only infrequently. Meetings with Sri Shardul will be arranged by us, and monitored. Your father will pass on messages from your sister-in-law. When we don’t need you to be seen in public, you’ll be at a safe house, where you’ll remain out of sight. This state of affairs could last months, I should warn you.” I nodded. “I accepted that when I agreed. So, when do I start?” “You should have your surgery tomorrow. Sri Sanjeev was arrested this morning. Sri Shardul is on his way now to offer his legal services. How long it takes you to get out of here depends on Sri Shardul, and his progress with Sri Sanjeev.” He stood. “Don’t go wandering around. The fewer people who see you and know what’s happening to you, the better for all concerned.” “Yes, sir.” He left and I sat on the bed, staring at my would-be doppelganger’s face on the media screen but not really seeing it. Instead, I thought of my brother, Tara, my two energetic nephews, and my sweet, precious niece. All the promises in the world couldn’t stop me thinking I’d never see them again. If I did, would Yashi and I share the same face again, know that moment of smug realisation that we two were unique, but not to each other? Crazy to think that somehow not looking the same meant we wouldn't really be twins any more, but my fevered, worried brain kept throwing up all kinds of things like that to stress me out. I had no entertainment other than the media screen—I’d been instructed to bring nothing with me other than the clothes I stood up in, not even my phone or ID—so unless I wanted to die of boredom or spend the day sleeping, I’d have to look over this stranger I was to become. I read Kawildin’s detailed biography, noting the uncanny similarities but also the striking differences between our respective histories. Thinking about how well I could pass myself off inevitably led to thoughts of Shardul, and his reaction to all this. Just because he’d agreed to cooperate for the good of the Nihani community wouldn’t stop him despising me for exploiting our relationship and my knowledge of the udawathei. In his

position, I’d likely feel the same. No one liked a spy, even those for your own side. Even one who’d been a friend, or one for whom you still had some loyalty. At least, if Captain Largosen had called it right. Could we really fix things between us after this was over? Logic told me no, and so did my empathy. Shardul had always been a confusing, difficult mind to read, but in the brief, hurried encounters over the last few weeks, I’d detected no hidden longing, no desire for me. Mine remained a one-sided passion. The only shocking thing about it was that my feelings hadn’t lessened at all in all this time. Seeing Shardul in the flesh had only sharpened them to an agonising point. With Yashi and the family gone and safe beyond where I could help them, there was nothing to mask the pain with Shardul’s name on it. An aide interrupted my miserable thoughts to ask me about lunch. I agreed to his suggestions and he went off to fetch the food. I supposed I wouldn’t be allowed to eat in a canteen, if the captain wanted me to lie low. This, more than anything that had happened since Commander Reoda had made his offer, brought home the enormity of what I’d undertaken. For the first time in my life, I had none of the support systems I’d come to take for granted. Even when I’d been estranged from Mum and Dad, even after I’d been forced to leave the police force, Yashi and Tara had been there. Kirin had been there, most of the time. Shardul too, for several years. My grandfather, my friends, my partners, my assistants. All beyond contact, except for Shardul, and him only on very limited, infrequent terms. Captain Largosen had set things up so that he and he alone was the only person I could turn to. Yet I knew bugger all about him. Cursed insanity, what had I let myself in for? Lunch didn’t cheer me up much—hospital food hadn’t improved in the years since I’d been shot while on duty—and the meeting with the surgeon sent my mood plummeting. She chattered cheerfully on about cheek and nose implants, removing wrinkles and scars, and how a beautician would reshape my eyebrows and hairline. “They do a much better job,” she assured me as I stared at the screen projection of the work involved and wondered if it was too late to back out. All the talk about implants and voice changers had unnerved me enough, but the planned alteration of my appearance made my stomach launch up into my throat. My unsuspected vain streak was apparently very wide and deep. I didn’t want a stranger’s face. Yashi and Tara’s kids wouldn’t recognise me. “You can definitely put me back the way I am now, right?” I asked when she stood to go. “More or less. Not the wrinkles and scars, but that’s a bonus, don’t you think? Now, no

food or drink except water after midnight, you know the drill, I’m sure. Surgery lasts for three hours, and you won’t feel a thing.” She winked as she left. Bloody hell. I’d earned those wrinkles and those scars. I didn’t want to look ten years younger than I was. Javen, you’re an idiot. Concentrate on the important stuff, will you? What would Shardul do? Whatever it took, I knew. What would Shardul say if I’d told him how I was feeling? Something witty and biting to snap me out of my funk, and offering me no sympathy for self-pity whatsoever, while reminding me what was at stake and the importance of what I was doing. Wished he was there to say it. I wished anyone was here. The rest of the day passed very slowly, and the dry material Captain Largosen had left wasn’t distracting enough. I accepted the offer of a sedative after supper to help me sleep, and went to bed early. Maybe once the surgery was over, I’d be more positive about the plan. ~~~~~~~~ Feeling positive would have to wait. Surgery was as smooth and swift as promised, but the ‘mild discomfort’ the surgeon had mentioned was a bit more than that, and my face felt three times its normal size. The medic attending me after I emerged from the anaesthetic fog didn’t want to let me have a mirror, but I insisted with my newly deepened voice, and since I wasn’t supposed to talk, she gave in. The feeling of increased size wasn’t an illusion —my face was swollen and bruised, resembling nothing so much as a rotting hair-topped piece of alien fruit, and any implants were hidden by the damage. “It’ll settle down very fast,” she assured me. “But you really mustn’t talk.” “Reader,” I mouthed. “I’ll find you one. Just relax, sergeant. Doctor Hern said everything went very well. She should be along later to talk to you.” She let me have some juice, and I could eat soup. Solid food had to wait a couple of days until the swelling around the voice box implant went down. At least I hadn’t needed a tracheostomy. Now I really felt sorry for myself. When I’d been in hospital before, I’d had plenty of people to visit and console me. I had a sudden longing to see my mother, and wondered if I was stable enough for this undercover gig. Some hardnosed cop I was. Though no one came to visit, the medical personnel treated me well. I had no idea if they knew what I was there for, but the lack of curiosity meant they probably had

suspicions at the very least. As the swelling went down, and so did the ache in my face, I reconciled myself to the changing face in the mirror, and could even think about the role I had to play with a little of my old hunter’s instinct. I wanted to be up and doing. Things were getting worse in Hegal and elsewhere in the country. And by some instinct that bordered on the paranormal, Captain Largosen dropped by just when my recovery had reached the point where I felt almost normal and I had grown used to both face and voice, and when my frustration at the lack of action was almost at screaming pitch. “Ah, sergeant. That’s all gone as well or better than I’d hoped.” I fingered my new face. “Yeah. Still give myself a fright in the morning when I shave, but other than that, I don’t think about it. Except when I talk. Still sounds wrong.” “You’ll get used to it. I came to let you know that you can expect a couple of visitors. Your friend, Shardul, and Gafur Kawildin. Kawildin will be here for a day or two, and will return to work after that.” “Shardul?” “Tomorrow morning, if you’re ready, when Kawildin arrives. The governor has also asked to speak to you, and we can arrange that this evening. How do you feel about the mission?” “Ready to go, sir. Does Sanjeev trust Shardul?” “Things are moving satisfactorily. We want to move quickly once Sri Shardul creates an interest in Sri Sanjeev meeting you, which could be any day now. So work fast with Kawildin. We expect to move you from here to the safe house by the end of this week, since you’re recovering so quickly.” “That soon?” “We believe that further wide-scale attacks could be imminent, based on chatter we’ve monitored and movements of certain individuals around the country. We need to stop them. Disorder is spreading.” “Is my father talking to the community leaders?” He dismissed my question with a wave of his hand. “I don’t deal in politics, sergeant. Frankly, neither do terrorists. They have their own particular agenda which will have very little to do with the lofty ideals spouted by Sri Shardul and his friends.” “Very likely. So you don’t think the Nihan will surrender these criminals?” “They may or may not. I intend to catch them first, and then stop them from ever doing

anything like this again.” He gave me a rather creepy smile, exuding a jarring satisfaction at odds with his usual cool emotional tenor. “A permanent military solution, rather than a judicial one.” I’d sworn to uphold the law, and this was out of my experience as an ordinary cop. “Sir,” I said, “I’d rather see my brother’s attackers jailed for life than murdered out of hand.” He didn’t even look at me as he answered. “If I want your opinion, sergeant, you can be sure I’ll ask for it. Can we concentrate on the actual task in hand, please?” He had more files for me to read, more briefing about Sanjeev Uttan’s activities and my fake persona. I could taste freedom now. It wouldn’t be long before all these tiresome preparations were put to good use, so I hoped. Even with the media feed, I was too cut off here from what was going down in Hegal. People were being hurt, threatened, even killed there. I had no idea how Prachi and Vik, Madan and Hamsa were doing. I’d been forbidden from touching my personal account in case anyone was monitoring it. So far as the world was concerned, I was still on a space cruiser with my family, a day out from Kelon. I looked forward to Dad’s call, but when it came, his muted reaction to my new appearance worried me. “Is Mum all right?” I asked, suddenly worried Largosen might have been hiding something from me. “Yes, she’s fine. We both miss Yashi and the family. And you. I knew it would be hard...really, it’s not like you’ve died, is it?” I made myself grin cockily at the screen. “No, Dad. I’m doing great, and Yashi’s in good hands. You’ll be able to contact Tara any day now, and you can call me when you need to.” “Commander Reoda warned us that the more we contacted you, the greater the risk for you.” “If you need me, call me. Bugger Commander Reoda. I’m not even in the field yet. It could be weeks.” He tried to smile. “Preparation going well?” “As well as it can. Just want to get moving. Things still no good in the city?” “There was an assassination attempt on the defence minister. We’ve kept it quiet in hopes of not inflaming the situation.” He scowled suddenly. “I don’t know what the banis hope to achieve. Do they want me to cast aside the rule of law?” “No, Dad. Most of them don’t, not at all. Whoever these people are, their agenda isn’t peace. You can’t give in.”

“I won’t. The council of governors is convening in Mardinet in two days. I hope someone will come up with a solution because I’ve tried everything. I met with the community leaders and the conversation was very civil, but that night another house was firebombed.” “Keep talking,” I urged. “The leaders are the future. Same as you are.” “Does me good to hear you say that, son. I’d better let you go. Your mother will call you next time, if they allow it. Good luck, Javen.” “You too. Love to you both.” He stared in surprise at the screen, then smiled. “And to you, my dear boy. Good night.” Maybe I didn’t say it often enough. I’d have to do something about that. ~~~~~~~~ The late night call with Dad didn’t make for an easy night’s sleep. He looked so tired and beaten down. I wished I could see both my parents in person. Captain Largosen said it wasn’t possible. I wasn’t entirely convinced but I’d let him have his way for now. Dad was incredibly strong, but he had his limits. Gafur Kawildin arrived on time the following morning. He blinked at me in shock. “Beloved reason, that’s astonishing. Is this what it’s like to have a twin?” I smiled, though I didn’t feel like it. “A bit.” I shook his offered hand. “Nice to meet you. I feel like I know you already.” “I don’t know a damn thing about you, unfortunately. But I’m proud to be part of trying to sort this mess.” I looked over at Captain Largosen. “Where’s Shardul?” “Cooling his heels. He’s our first live test subject. Sergeant Kawildin spent some time talking to him before I called him up here. Now you’re going to go in and be Gafur Kawildin. If you can fool him....” “...I can fool anyone. Bet I can’t, though. He’s sharp.” “For your sake, I hope you’re wrong. Kawildin? Could you quickly brief the sergeant on what you two spoke about, then swap clothes?” Captain Largosen brimmed with suppressed excitement, like someone about to play a clever practical joke. I didn’t care for that. Shardul wasn’t a toy, and had put himself at risk to cooperate with this plan. I’d have liked to have seen a bit more appreciation of that. Kawildin briefed me and gave me his uniform, changing into a set of fatigues. A quick

check that our hair grooming matched, and then Captain Largosen showed me down to the office where Shardul was waiting. “Tell him that you—that is, the real you—aren’t quite ready for us. Talk to him, make him look at you. Try to get him to recognise you. This is a chance to safely work out where the flaws in your act are.” I nodded, and entered the office. Shardul looked up briefly, frowned, and went back to studying his reader. Anyone but an empath would have been totally fooled by his act, but I sensed his disdain, even anger. Particular shades of emotions I hadn’t felt from him since our earliest interactions. Shardul had dismissed me as a Kelon and an enemy—a stranger, and an unwelcome one. I hadn’t expected that. I should have. I’d grown used to his acceptance, forgetting how rarely he extended it to one of my kind. “Ythen’s not ready,” I said, sitting down. Shardul grunted, not even looking up. “Hope they don’t keep us waiting. I’ve got things to do at the office. You busy?” He looked up then, sneering. “Of course not. We banis don’t have anything to keep us occupied. We’re so lazy and shiftless, after all.” I held up my hands. “Whoa. Didn’t say a word about that. You’re sort of touchy, aren’t you?” “And you’re rude. Do I look as if I want to have a conversation with you? I’m reading an important document.” “Yeah? What about? I left my reader behind. Didn’t think I’d have time for it.” Shardul muttered something, which sounded like “or the brains”. I tried not to grin. “How long do you think they’ll keep us waiting?” “How in the name of the Blessed Spirit would I know? They’re your people, not mine. If you’re so concerned, go find someone and ask.” Still not the slightest hint of recognition. Captain Largosen, watching via hidden video, would be delighted. I didn’t know what else to say to Shardul short of provoking an outright argument, which might make him walk out, so I sat back and waited, and shortly after, the captain came in, his expression and emotions muted once more. He pulled up a chair and laid a file out on the table. “Ah, gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting.” “Where’s Javen?” Shardul asked, sharpness in his tone and worry in his emotions. Why, Shardul, I never knew you cared. “Right next to you.”

Shardul opened his mouth to argue, then shot me a venomous look. I gave him a cheery little wave. “Hi.” He shoved his chair back. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is Gafur Kawildin. We travelled together. A very annoying companion.” “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that,” Captain Largosen said. “Sergeant, would you care to...?” “Shardul, we danced together at the governor’s ball last year, and the press thought we were a couple. You threatened to call a press conference to announce our engagement.” He leaned back, staring intently at me. “Javen...no. How...?” “A lot of surgery, a voice box modulator, and acting,” I said. “Looks like it passes,” I said to the captain. “So this was just a game for your purposes,” Shardul snarled at Largosen. “I really do have better things to do, you realise.” “Sri Shardul, please calm down. Your visit this morning is useful for more than one reason. As it happened, yes, it suited us to have someone who knows Sergeant Ythen so very well, see him in his disguise. But you needed to see him now and get used to the transformation, and I also need to brief you both about moving this plan forward. First of all, Sri Shardul, be kind enough to report on the situation with Sri Sanjeev.” Shardul treated us all to a death glare before he responded. “He continues to see me as an ally, but hasn’t offered me any confidential information. My feeling is that he won’t unless I do. He’s no fool.” “Agreed. In three days, we’re going to raid a warehouse on Dutinte Street. You will tell him about it and report this tip has come from your lover, Gafur Kawildin.” “Lover?” Shardul’s voice rose to a near-squeak in shock. “Now wait a minute,” I said, running over Shardul’s surprise. “You never said anything about us posing as lovers.” “Plans change,” Captain Largosen said without a sign of apology. “It will lend verisimilitude and explain why Sri Shardul has access to such sensitive information. A mere friend might be suspected. A lover, much less so.” A lesser man would have shrivelled under the force of Shardul’s scorn. “And how will I explain a previously unsuspected lover to him? Or anyone enquiring?” “Sri Shardul, I have been enquiring. Your sexual liaisons are conducted with extreme discretion. Your name has not been publicly linked with anyone other than the sergeant in

at least eight years, yet you have not been celibate, have you?” Shardul shook his head, lips pursed with aggravation. I didn’t blame him. “So the fact no one has seen your new lover with you, won’t be a surprise. You don’t have to act as if you’re in love, of course. That would be too much of a stretch.” “Thank you,” I said sourly. I could have killed him for this. Did he have any idea how close to the bone he’d come with this idea? “I don’t see it as necessary—” “Your opinion wasn’t asked for, sergeant.” “Nor was mine,” Shardul said, “but I agree with Javen. This is ridiculous. I never agreed to this.” “We’re not asking you to actually sleep with him, just to say you are. Come, come, Sri Shardul. Lives are being lost and you cavil at a tiny white lie?” Shardul managed to hold in the insults I could practically see on his forehead, but his lips shook with the effort. I jumped in before he lost control. “Sir, the more lies we tell, the harder it will be to keep them all straight.” “One lie, sergeant, and I’m sure remembering whether or not you two are sleeping together won’t be difficult. I don’t intend to waste time on further discussion. Our objective is to win a meeting between Sri Sanjeev and you as soon as possible. I’m not interested in scruples at this point. Sri Shardul, did you have anything else to say to the sergeant?” “No.” His blue eyes pinned me, revulsion and confusion pouring off him as he scanned the unfamiliar landscape of my features. He hated my new face. So did I. “Am I done?” “Yes, you may leave. I’ve arranged transport. Thank you for coming. I’ll send you the precise information to pass to Sri Sanjeev. Remember the aim is for Sanjeev to request a meeting with the sergeant.” I wanted to talk to Shardul, but the captain was clearly in no mood to allow it. Anyway, Shardul was too pissed off for rationality. Hopefully when he calmed down.... And when I did.... Damn Captain Largosen. How many more humiliations was this scheme of his going to dump on our heads? The captain looked at me coolly as the door closed behind Shardul. “Perhaps you should refresh your knowledge of the chain of command, sergeant.” “I’m sorry, sir. I was taken by surprise.” “It’s likely to happen again, so you should be ready for it. I don’t dismiss your opinion or knowledge, but there is a time and a place. That was neither.”

“Yes, sir.” Go fuck yourself. Bloody military. He grunted. “Now you and Kawildin will spend the day together. You’ll work with a voice coach to perfect mannerisms and so on, and Kawildin will familiarise you with his new residence and routine. This is your last chance to do so. If your friend does his job properly, you could be meeting Sri Sanjeev within a week. Clearly your physical disguise is as close to perfect as we could wish. It’s up to you to make the rest of the act credible.” “Sir.” “Well, off you go, sergeant. Kawildin is still in your room.”

Chapter 6 Two days later, I moved to a safe house—an apartment, actually—with enclosed entrances and exits. I would enter and leave only inside a vehicle with mirrored windows, and make no contact with any neighbours. Captain Largosen told me I’d be wheeled out as necessary, and otherwise, as far as the world was concerned, I wouldn’t exist—a creepy turn of phrase that did nothing to quell my nerves. At least Mum and Dad could now call at will. Tara and the family had arrived safely on Kelon and Yashi’s treatment had begun. That was all the news they had, but I was glad to have it. Mum had also gone to the trouble of finding out how friends like Kirin were doing, just so she could pass it on to me, and had even called Madan to ask how the office was coping. My alleged presence on Kelon gave her a perfect excuse, but I was surprised, and quite touched that she’d done that. Maybe it was a nice distraction from worrying about Dad. I was still grateful. Shardul could also call at will, but he hadn’t. I wasn’t allowed to call him. I desperately wanted to talk this all out with him, and share my feelings about this unwanted charade we had to play, but he didn’t feel the same way, apparently. Maybe it bothered me a lot more than it bothered him. I wanted to know, that was all. Three days after I moved in, I got the call from Largosen just as I was heading to bed, bored and frustrated with the inaction. “Sergeant? Sri Sanjeev wants to meet you tomorrow.” “Uh, great. When and where?” “Breakfast at his house. Sri Shardul will take you there.” “That doesn’t give us much time to talk first.” “I’m afraid not, but I’ve seen you two working. You’ll be fine taking cues from him. The main thing is that you are to make it clear that you’ll be happy to tip him off on further crucial developments, out of resentment towards the Kelons, and, er, affection for Sri Shardul.” Bastard. “Yes, sir.” “Fine. You’ll be collected at six and dropped downtown. Sri Shardul will pick you up and take you to this address.” He read out details of a house in a slightly upmarket area on the other side of the river—not all that far from Madan’s place, in fact. “On your return, take a taxi to the staff car park at the police station, and you’ll be collected from there. I don’t need to remind you how critical this meeting is.” “No, sir.”

“Good luck. We’ll speak afterwards.” Of course he’d also be listening in through the transmitter-recorder in my jaw implant. “Good night, sir.” Shardul should have called me to tell me about this. Was he pissed or rattled? The journey from the city centre to Sanjeev’s house would take ten minutes, max. Not nearly long enough for a proper briefing, and nowhere near enough to talk through his feelings about my face. But who was I kidding? I was the last person Shardul would talk to about anything so personal. The fact he hadn’t called was proof of that. I had to let it go. I was becoming an insomniac on this case. I got maybe two hours’ sleep that night, and was wide-awake when my ride came. The driver dropped me off downtown, and thirty seconds’ later, Shardul’s auto pulled over and the door opened for me. I slid into the passenger seat. “Thanks for the lift.” Shardul didn’t look at me as he closed the door and drove off. “Wasn’t my idea. You should know that one of our people shot a police officer last night. Killed her.” “Cursed insanity.” I hadn’t looked at the news feed. I’d been wound up enough as it was. “Anyone arrested?” “Yes. I wanted you to have time to switch your reaction from what you would do to what Gafur would do, if Sanjeev mentions it.” “Guy’s an ex-cop. Difficult to know what’s the best line. Could anyone be shitty enough to be glad at a fellow officer being killed?” He glanced at me. “In this case, Sanjeev will expect you to be. I’ve painted you as quite the hater of all things Kelon.” “Just like you.” “Indeed.” “Including me?” “Not here, Gafur.” He gestured at my face. “The transmitter is working well, I presume?” I’d forgotten, even with the signal booster sitting in my pocket. “I guess so. Anything else I need to know?” “We spent last night together.” “And was it good?” “I’ve had better.” I’d have laughed but he wasn’t smiling. “Tell me about Sanjeev.”

“He hates Kelons, but is prepared to do business with them. He’s not political, strangely, but is well-informed.” “Strange type for an activist.” “Indeed. He’s secretive, and doesn’t appreciate questions about his affairs, even from me. Frankly I’m surprised he’s prepared to meet you, but apparently his contacts were very grateful for the tip-off.” “Exactly what Captain Largosen wanted.” “Of course. Please don’t...engage in sickening endearments or gestures in front of him. I’m not prepared to carry out that kind of charade.” “I wouldn’t ask it. You know I wouldn't.” He didn’t reply, his eyes fixed firmly on the road. I looked away, not wanting to see in his face the emotions I felt from him—again, strangely muted. “Are you doing something to my empathy?” I asked after a minute or so of uncomfortable silence. “No. How could I?” He was lying. Shardul had never lied to me before. But I couldn’t ask him about it because Captain Largosen was listening. We drove over Pada bridge and turned towards Darliw, Shardul’s tension growing with every metre of the journey. “We’ll be fine. We make a good double act, according to the captain.” The barked laugh that greeted my remark was welcome, but too short. “I’m out of practice.” I bit my tongue before I could say the hurtful, “Whose fault is that?” It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a fact. The auto pulled into the drive of a nice but unflashy house, a kind lived in by thousands of families in the region, and utterly unremarkable. “He couldn’t afford better?” “He is udawatha. We don’t believe in ostentation for its own sake, remember?” “Um, yeah.” One of the Seeker’s first guiding principles, in fact. “You can’t afford that kind of mistake,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “Pay attention.” He opened the auto’s doors. “He’s devout. He’ll notice if you slip up.” “Okay.” Sanjeev opened the door as we walked up to it. I’d only seen still images of the man. In person, he looked ordinary, normal—not like a supplier of terrorists at all. A middle-class man in a middle-class area, completely Kelon in appearance except for the high cheekbones

which only hinted at possible mixed-race origins. “Blessing of the spirit, Shardul.” He bowed to me. “And to you, Gafur.” “Blessings on us all,” I replied formally, bowing back. I sensed his approval. First test passed. “Come in. Thank you for coming over at this time. I don’t sleep much these days.” He led us into a living room that bore plentiful signs of his unseen wife and children— photoscreens, amateur art, ornaments too ugly to display except for sentimental reasons. The occasional table bore a tray of samosas and chai. “Please, sit. Shardul, I’ll let you serve Gafur. I hope I didn’t drag you out of bed much earlier than normal.” “He keeps me awake,” I said with a small leer at Shardul. “I’m sure he does,” Sanjeev said, grinning at us. “Shardul has told me a lot about you.” He said something in Nihani which I couldn’t make out. I held up my hands in apology. “Sorry. I’m not fluent, though I’m learning. If I’d been allowed to be brought up here, instead of on Kelon....” I made a disgusted face. “I’d rather I was mute than be forced to speak their tongue.” “I know the feeling. Still, it helps you pass. That and your looks.” I bent over, and removed the brown-coloured lens from my right eye, revealing the green intraocular implant. “With a little help. My work colleagues have no idea I’m Nihan.” He laughed. “Brilliant. But your family history must be on their records?” “My mother’s race wasn’t recorded, and my father was, for obvious reasons, not keen to reveal it. If the chuma are too ignorant to see the truth, who am I to educate them?” “Very true. Useful to be able to move between the two groups.” “They exploit us. Why shouldn’t I exploit them?” “Exactly, eh, Shardul?” Shardul smiled tightly. “Yes, I agree. Besides, Gafur only has the ability to deceive them because of their racism. You can imagine how they would squeal if one of their women’s children was taken by one of our men to raise as Nihan. I despise the Kelon race, I truly do.” Sanjeev poured himself some chai and sat back, cradling the cup. “Forgive me, Shardul, but I do have to ask you about something I recently learned. Apparently you used to be very close to the governor’s son, Javen.” Shardul sneered a bit too convincingly. “‘Used to be’, indeed.”

“But—” “The man deceived me. The family on the governor’s side are actually mixed-race, though they’ll never admit it. Javen pretended to be interested in, even proud of that heritage, and persuaded me that he wanted to promote our welfare and work with us. He had me completely fooled.” He laughed bitterly, and had I not sensed his emotions before, would have been completely convinced how much he hated ‘Javen’. “But it was all a ruse. Despite the fact he knew how much I loathe the Kelons and would never take one as a lover, he pressed his unwanted attentions on me at a point when I was in distress and desperate, and....” He pursed his lips. “I don’t want to describe it.” Sanjeev was properly horrified. “He...raped you?” “Not for want of trying. I threw him out and threatened him with revealing all to his father. I knew the police would never take action.” My hands were clenched on my thighs from shock at how Shardul could mine such a painful episode to build my cover. I hoped Sanjeev took it for outrage on behalf of my lover. “I’m sorry to bring this up,” Sanjeev said. He was genuinely regretful, my empathy confirmed. Shardul shrugged. “It’s in the past, and the man has gone back to Kelon. Good riddance. If we could just send the rest of them back, Medele would once again be the paradise the Seeker promised.” “Maybe it’ll happen. Gafur, the information you gave Shardul saved a lot of innocent people from ending up in Kelon jail cells.” “Good. That’s what I wanted.” “Would you pass on more information, for the same reason?” “I would. I don’t trust them to dispense the justice they’re so proud of. Not after Denge got away with murder.” “I feel the same. But you don’t have much loyalty to your former police colleagues, I have to say.” I curled my lip in feigned disgust. “The colleagues who let me be run over by one of their own vehicles, and then took away my badge because of the injuries they caused? The colleagues who make tasteless jokes about the banis and expect me to join in? They taught me to hate, Sanjeev. I wasn’t born like this. I know the Seeker teaches we should not hold hate in our hearts, but he didn’t have to deal with the Kelon. He had no experience with racism, blessed though he is forever.” “This is sadly true,” Shardul murmured. I almost jumped when he spoke. “His

teachings have nothing to say in guidance for our situation here in Medele, but how could he have anticipated invaders of this kind, destroying what we have achieved?” “So we must find our own path in the Spirit, don’t you think?” Sanjeev said. “Rid this land of the intruders, or at least remove their influence.” “I pray every day for that,” I said. “Let’s be blunt, Sanjeev. You’re trying to make that happen, and I want to help.” “I’m doing nothing,” he retorted. “Be careful what you say and to whom you say it, Gafur. These are dangerous times for our kind.” “I’m sorry. My anger made me careless. I’d be out there throwing firebombs myself, but that doesn’t change enough things fast enough.” “Not on its own, no.” He was more cautious of me now. Bugger. “But there are those who believe they can make things change, really change.” “I want to help. When Denge walked free, I vowed to do whatever I could, didn’t I, Shardul? I swore to you I would.” “Yes, you did.” I gave him a fake tender smile, and hoped he’d forgive me for it. “Very worthy,” Sanjeev said. I waited for him to tell me more of what he wanted, but he only poured himself a second cup of chai and offered us the pot. “I presume you need to leave for work soon.” “In a bit, yes.” “If you hear of anything which can help our people, I can also presume you’ll pass that to Shardul?” “We don’t have secrets from each other. I trust him to do what he judges best with what I tell him.” “Good. Well, eat up, both of you. My wife made these specially for you.” So far, other than admitting he’d passed on the ‘tip-off’, he’d said nothing that could have him brought in for questioning, let alone be charged for aiding treason. That admission was pretty incriminating, sure, but would be struck out as entrapment, and drag Shardul down too. But catching him out wasn’t the point. Had he heard enough to make those behind him interested? We left a few minutes later, the conversation turned to harmless topics like children and the weather. Shardul relaxed as he climbed into his auto. “Think he took the bait?” I asked. “Hard to tell. You sounded like the most rabid Kelon hater I’ve ever encountered.”

“Too much?” “Perhaps not. Especially not now.” His emotions clouded with sadness. “There is so much hate around now, nothing seems extreme any more.” “Unfortunately true.” “So that will appeal, most likely. On the other hand, you did establish a propensity for betrayal.” “Unavoidable, given my script.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I know. Perhaps I should have thought about that, but then I wasn’t exactly consulted about the finer details, like us being lovers.” “Yeah, I know. Um, listen...about that night—” “I made that all up, yes. Don’t worry about that.” His eyes were fixed on my jaw, where the transmitter had been fitted. Obviously he thought Captain Largosen might take him seriously. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” “There’s nothing else to talk about.” He turned away, gunned the engine and made the auto buck as it tore off. “Be careful.” “Then stop distracting me while I’m driving.” “Shardul—” “Are my wishes of so little importance?” “No. Sorry.” He drove towards the bridge. There was so much I wanted to say to him, to talk about, but it all fell under ‘too sensitive’ or ‘too painful’. So all I asked was, “What happens now?” His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “I’ll keep contact with him, encourage his interest. If the captain wants further information passed on, he’ll have to provide it.” “Is Sanjeev connected to this killing last night?” “I doubt it. That’s my next call—the parents of the accused.” “You’d work for a cop killer.” “Alleged cop killer, Javen, and yes. It’s my job. Always has been. I serve my people, not yours, and the law for both. I might have sold my soul for this...business...but I haven’t forgotten my ideals.”

“Neither have I. I need to talk to you about this, Shardul.” “I can’t. Please...just don’t.” I wished I could shake him, make him listen. Once we were so close, such good friends. Now it was like we stood on opposite sides of this bridge we were crossing now, able to see but unable to hear, or touch. But what divided us wasn’t a river, but genetics, religion and history. And nothing could bridge that without both of us wanting it. He didn’t now, even though he might have once. He dropped me off in town without saying another word to me and I caught a taxi to the station house. I’d barely left the taxi when an auto slipped into position in front of me. Captain Largosen leaned out of the open door and beckoned me in. “I think that went well,” he said, sitting back as the auto drove on. “You think so?” “You heard us talking. Shardul has some reservations. I can’t tell, since I don’t know the man.” “Fair enough. I thought you two sounded convincing. But there’s clearly an unresolved issue between you. I’m concerned it might force Sri Shardul to stop cooperating.” “It won’t, I promise.” “It better not, sergeant. This is a hell of a lot more important than your dalliances with banis affairs. Keep it in your pants and stop provoking the man. We need him, at least for now.” “And when you don’t?” He narrowed his hawkish eyes. “What does that mean?” “What will happen to him when this is over?” “Nothing, of course. We have no interest in him.” “Of course, sir. I was just concerned...that he’s carrying out acts which could be considered treason, even if under direction.” “The recordings we’re making are his protection. I don’t appreciate the accusation, sergeant.” “I apologise, sir. What will I be doing now?” “Waiting, of course. Coming out in public if we need you. We baited the hook, now let’s see if it’s swallowed. Keep out of sight.” “Yes, sir.”

He spoke to the driver and ordered him to pull over. “I have a meeting here. You go back to the safe house and lie low. Don’t argue with Sri Shardul. That’s an order.” “Sir.” No, not done with the humiliations yet. For a spoon of flour I’d take a knife and cut this bloody transmitter out of my jaw. Proof that the captain’s worry about what I could do to this mission with my stupid obsessions was completely justified. Grow up, Javen. ~~~~~~~~ A suitable punishment for my stupidity was a week’s isolation to contemplate it, and that was what I had—no contact from anyone except two food deliveries. I wasn’t needed to lay more bait, not yet, though I burned with curiosity to know what Captain Largosen was giving Shardul to feed to Sanjeev. All I had for company was the media feeds, and they made depressing viewing. I saw Shardul, videoed as he left the courthouse after his client was committed for trial for murder. He offered no comment despite the outrageous taunting by the reporters, the watching cops taking no action over the pushing and shoving he endured. The news analysis now made no pretense at balanced reporting. Dad was taking a lot of hits for not being hard-line enough, while his political opponents rampaged all over the debate, advocating little short of organised genocide as reprisal for the assault on ‘national pride’. The council of governors had approved a series of emergency measures, and nighttime curfews were now in place for all Nihan and registered mixed-race individuals. Random ID checks, increased stop and searches, raids reported every night—as a cop, I knew how useless these things were in catching real criminals, and how much extra work and resentment they caused. Putting on my concerned citizen’s mask, I could see how they might offer a frightened Kelon population some hope that the unrest and violence would end. It wouldn’t work. Dad would know it wouldn’t work. But politicians had to be seen to be doing something, and so they did what they could. The damage might never be repaired, if this continued. Dad didn’t call, but I couldn’t expect him to. I hoped Mum might, but she’d have her hands full with Dad and her duties as the governor’s partner. I could only wait, watch, and fret. I became very good at fretting. The week stretched into two. It had taken too long. Sanjeev couldn’t have fallen for the bait. What had we done wrong? And would we get a second chance? I was probably half a day from breaking Captain Largosen’s order not to contact him except under a life-threatening emergency—and somehow, I didn’t think he’d counted

‘about to go mad from stress and anxiety’ as ‘life-threatening’—when Shardul called. “We need to meet, and soon.” I bit back the sarcastic “Hello, Shardul, how lovely to hear from you,” and said, “I need permission.” “Already obtained. Captain Largosen ordered it, in fact. Ordered you, not me. I merely agreed.” “What’s happened?” “Things are moving. The captain will have you brought to the meeting this evening, at eleven.” “Sanjeev took the bait?” “Someone did, at least.” “Great. How are you? I saw you on the news reports the other night.” “Things are difficult. Don’t concern yourself.” “Of course I concern myself. You’re my friend.” A shadow of pain passed over his face. “I don’t know how you can still say that. I’ll see you this evening.” “Shar—” But he’d closed the call. Seconds later, Captain Largosen’s name flashed up on my phone. “Sergeant, you’ll be collected tonight just before eleven. We’ll meet and then you’ll spend the night at Sri Shardul’s home. There’ll be an early departure—no need to pack, I’ve got that arranged.” “Yes, sir. Won’t it seem suspicious if I’m seen leaving his place when I haven’t done so before?” “It would, but I’ve taken care of it. Be ready.” “Sir,” I said and he disconnected. “Taken care of it”? How...but then I realised. Kawildin. They’d been using Kawildin to set up a cover, while I’d been stewing in this bloody apartment and going slowly mad. Why, for sanity’s sake? Why not use me? I had literally nothing better to do. Shardul must have insisted. I fingered my jaw where every word I uttered was recorded and transmitted to Captain Largosen’s monitors. Maybe once the device was removed, Shardul would feel less inhibited. On the other hand, it might make no damn difference at all. Sounded like the ‘undercover’ part of this mission was about to start. I wished I could

talk to my family. Captain Largosen would keep Mum and Dad informed, I hope, but hearing their voices would be reassuring. The three hours until my ride turned up dragged like three days, though I tried to kill time by rereading the briefing reports. I had the names of suspected players, the connections, and the possible methods of attack burned into my memory now. But there was nothing solid, nothing to say “this is the one who is behind it, that’s the one who will carry out the next attempt on a judge’s life”. There was too much information, too few specifics. I’d never hand something like this over to a client. Finally my phone beeped and I went down to the basement where another anonymous auto waited to take me to the meeting with Captain Largosen and Shardul. Other than his somewhat irritating insistence on referring to me by my rank, Largosen’s way of doing things was decidedly non-military—and non-force either. But maybe that was the secret of his success—weaving through rigid protocols to get exactly where he wanted to be. Why he didn’t piss people off while he did it, was a mystery. The building was new to me, and shrouded in darkness. Inside, the lighting was just as subdued, and the small office where Shardul and Captain Largosen waited for me had all its shades drawn. “Sir.” I snapped off a salute, then nodded at Shardul, who nodded back, his expression blank, his emotions dark and tangled, jumping a little with shock and disgust as he registered my features. That didn’t last long, but he clearly didn’t want to be here, or doing this, whatever ‘this’ was. “Take a seat, sergeant. Things are on the move, as undoubtedly Sri Shardul indicated. Sri Sanjeev has arranged a meeting with individuals I believe may be at the heart of this insurgency. Your instructions are to gain their trust, and offer to make yourself useful. The recordings of your conversations will be crucial evidence, and if we can identify these people, that will give us our chance to crack the ‘Justice for Nihan’ group.” “Yes, sir. Will I be able to communicate with you?” Shardul coughed. “Sanjeev specifically said we were to leave readers and phones behind. All weapons too, of course.” “Yes, and without the signal booster you’ll be out of range to transmit the recording. We’ll track your position, sergeant, but essentially you’ll be on your own, so tread lightly.” I frowned at him. “Sir, I’m not happy about putting a civilian in danger.” “Neither am I,” he replied coolly, not even looking at Shardul, “but the meeting can’t happen without Sri Shardul. He’s agreed.”

“Without pressure?” I turned to him. “This could explode in our faces, and I won’t be able to protect you.” “I know. But if you can face the risk, so can I.” “Shardul, I’m a cop! You’re—” “Sergeant, be quiet.” I faced my boss with a glare. His hawkish expression promised a world of pain if I did not shut up now. “Sri Shardul understands the situation as well as or better than you do. We don’t have time for this. This meeting is precisely what we’ve been working towards, and it’s a little late to scruple about his safety.” “Sir,” I bit off, angry as fuck. “Then read the briefing notes, and I’ll answer questions. Sri Shardul, can I offer you chai? Or something else?” “No, thank you, captain. I think...I’d like to wait elsewhere while Javen reads, if you don’t mind. Is there another office?” The captain pulled out a keycard. “Next door. Let me know if you need anything.” Shardul nodded and left the room, while I sat slightly amazed at the almost warm exchange. Neither man particularly liked the other, but the manners had improved a lot. Captain Largosen waited for the door to close, then growled. “What the hell are you doing, sergeant?” “My job, sir. Protecting civilians, and in this case, a friend.” “My job, sergeant. Your job is to follow orders. Are you going to do that, or shall I pull the plug on this whole mission?” “Sir...if Shardul is hurt or even killed, the effect on the current tensions would be catastrophic. He’s not just any Nihan.” “I’m painfully aware of that, Sergeant Ythen. Any more bloody obvious things you want to say?” His eyes bored into me, and his contempt made my head throb. “No, sir.” “Then read. I’m going to find chai.” I restrained myself from cursing, aware I would be heard, but I swore silently anyway. If either of us slipped up at this meeting.... If I slipped up. Because Shardul was good. I’d seen him in action. But this kind of faking was foreign to me, a huge leap beyond the playacting I used on the job to win the trust of targets. This was a 25/8 act I had to carry out, and the very opposite of what I was in reality. Shardul only had to draw on his darker instincts and emotions to portray

someone ready to collude in terrorism. I had to go against years of training, and my whole background. But I could do it. At least I hoped I could. Captain Largosen returned shortly after I’d read the sadly brief briefing file from cover to cover and committed the important facts to memory. He set cups of chai down for both of us. “Questions?” “Tools, weapons, escape plan, sir.” He bent down behind his desk and pulled up a small blue case, which he opened. “In the boots in that pack over there by the wall, you’ll find spaces in the heels. Use them to store these.” He set out a compact multitool and showed me the knife, scissors and wire saw it contained. “And this is a basic medical kit, with painkillers, waterproof dressing and skin seal. It’ll let you move on a broken leg or stop you bleeding to death, but that’s about it.” Not a hell of a lot to work with. “Backup?” “We’ll get as close to your location as we dare, but if a firefight breaks out, we won’t get there in time to help. Your best protection is not to let that happen. It is, of course, the most desirable outcome in any event. Talk, sergeant. Talk, get intel. That’s all you have to do. Sanjeev hasn’t indicated that these men will want anything more than information passed on a timely and regular basis. You will naturally agree to that.” “And if they want proof of bona fides?” “Sri Shardul and Gafur Kawildin have been passing information for the last two weeks. By this stage, your ability to act as a mole won’t be questioned.” “In that case, do you know why they want to meet? Are they planning something big?” “That would be my guess, but we really don’t know. That information could be critical.” “So, a weekend visit—that’s all?” “One night, that’s what Sanjeev said. I trust you can handle that without getting into an argument with Sri Shardul? Because we need him, sergeant.” “I don’t have a problem with him, sir.” I let the stiffness of my tone tell him how annoyed his question made me. “We have matters to sort out, and the...implant makes that difficult.” “Then you’ll have to wait until this is over. Until then, stop aggravating the man. That’s an order.”

“Sir.” The chai in the cup in front of me probably dropped ten degrees from the frost in my voice, but the captain ignored it. “Fine. Tomorrow you’ll travel to Darwil and meet Sanjeev. He’ll take you both to the meeting point. We don’t have any information on where that is, or indeed how he plans to get you there, so be ready for anything.” “Yes, sir.” “Check your pack, then you’re done.” While I did that, he fetched Shardul from the other office. Shardul was calmer than before, but still subdued. I looked up from the pack to his blank stare. “Okay?” “Of course. Are we leaving?” Captain Largosen dismissed us with a curt “Good luck”, and we headed down to collect Shardul’s auto. “Sorry you have to be imposed on,” I said lightly as we rode in the elevator. “Kawildin’s been staying at my place every couple of nights,” Shardul said, not looking at me. “To be frank, I’d have preferred you.” I stared at the back of his head, and decided asking more about it would constitute ‘aggravating’. “Me too,” I said. “Been a boring couple of weeks.” “I imagine.” And he said nothing more as he went to his auto, let us in, and drove us back to the Nihani neighbourhood. No one was around. The indigenous curfew was still in force. “How come you can come and go?” I asked as he parked behind his office. “Permit. Kawildin doesn’t need one,” he added with a touch of bitterness. “Don’t like him?” “He’s Kelon.” “Ah. So am I.” He turned and gave me a brief, humourless smile. “Not as Kelon as he is, trust me.” Going up the narrow stairs brought back unwelcome memories, and from what I sensed from him, it wasn’t just me. “Are you really okay with this?” I whispered. “Really too late to ask that, Gafur.” I jerked as he said my cover name, but he pointed to the wall. “Neighbours,” he mouthed, and I nodded. The apartment was unchanged from my memory of it. I wondered if Shardul cleaned it each time Kawildin left, but it wasn’t like being Kelon was catching.

“Through there,” he pointed. “My library.” “Ouch. Sorry.” He raised his eyebrows and showed the first sign of humour I’d seen all evening. “Do you really think I wouldn’t come in if I needed a book, Javen? You’re not that repulsive.” I laughed, relieved. “Thanks, I think. But sorry, anyway. I’ll behave.” “I doubt it,” he said dryly. “We’re leaving at five, so be up at four if you want breakfast or miss out.” “Want me to share the driving?” “No. I’ve managed on less sleep, but if you’ll excuse me, I must go to bed now. There are spare toiletries in the bathroom.” He pointed in the direction. “I’ll use it first if you don’t mind. Good night.” “Geurili.” He jerked. “Your accent’s improved.” “Practice and boredom.” “Ah. You might want to roughen it. Kawildin sounds like a calving kolija when he speaks Nihani.” He left while I was still grinning over that. Okay, childish of me to be jealous of Kawildin but I couldn’t help being pleased that I had no competition in that direction, even if the contest had been declared a bust months ago. Knock it off, I told myself. Shardul had allowed me into his sanctum for the second time, and I didn’t want it to end up anything like the first had. So I had to put my feelings on ice, and concentrate on the damn job. And get some sleep. Looked like being a long day tomorrow.

Chapter 7 Not even Shardul could be perky or clever at four in the morning, and communication was a series of grunts until we’d had a cup of chai apiece. But even then we said little to each other, nerves and lack of sleep killing the mood. The only conversation we had was as we left the building and I realised it was raining. He glanced at me as I exclaimed in surprise. “The wet season started last week.” “Oh. Being stuck inside, I haven’t paid any attention to the weather.” “The rain is a blessing of the Spirit, and necessary.” “Pain in the arse to drive in, though.” A brief show of teeth. “That too. Come on.” Outwardly calm, his inner being was far more strung out, so I kept quiet to let him concentrate on the driving in the dark and lousy weather. The only other vehicles on the streets were police autos and a couple of cykes. We were stopped briefly to check credentials, and waved on by a bored, wet cop. I hoped the rain would keep terrorists in their beds, and make for a quiet time in the city. Over an hour later, the sun crawled out and shed a feeble glow through the still punishing weather. We were headed north, and the roads were still clear. The police presence remained noticeable, and we were stopped twice more at checkpoints, Shardul earning hard and unfriendly glares, and a muttered curse at the second one as his ID was shoved back at him. He drove off, expression grim. “Your colleagues have been rather put out by my defending the suspect in that police officer’s killing.” “Do you blame them?” “Everyone is entitled to a proper defence lawyer. I’m doing my job, when I’m not doing yours.” “You know I’m under orders not to fight with you, right?” He barked out a startled laugh. “Really? Shall I take that as a challenge?” “Only if you want to prove I really suck at following orders.” He sniffed, but the anger over his treatment at the checkpoint abated. I grinned to myself and settled back for the rest of the ride. By the time we pulled over at the designated meeting point—a small services stop in the middle of nowhere—Shardul had told me in his economical fashion about his meetings

with Sanjeev and what Gafur Kawildin had supposedly passed on. That had been in the file, but I was glad to hear it from Shardul himself, getting impressions, not just dry facts. “No suspicion at my supposed betrayal?” “Not that I could see. Since none of the information could have led directly to the death of any officer, and were of a type aimed purely at protecting our people, whatever conscience Sanjeev had was soothed.” “You think he has a conscience?” I asked. Shardul hesitated. “Yes, he does, but a rather uninformed and malleable one. The things he objects to surprises me at times. Personally he’s not someone I would entrust any confidential enterprise to.” “Hopefully the people we’re meeting feel differently.” “Yes.” But he remained unconvinced. I hoped he was wrong. Sanjeev wasn’t there when we arrived at the services stop. “I need a leak. Want something from the store?” I asked. “Chai and something to eat,” Shardul murmured, peering through the sheets of rain towards the road. Still no sign of the man when I returned. I handed a sweet bun and the drink to Shardul. “Think he’s ditched?” “Not yet. He’s coming from the west. There’s been flooding on the roads, remember. It was on the feed.” Was it? I hadn’t paid attention to the news. Listening to Shardul was too rare a pleasure to give up. “How long do we wait?” “As long as it takes. Let’s find somewhere to sit out of this.” We waited for an hour, drinking chai and picking at indifferent baked goods. I was too wound up to eat much. Shardul kept his thoughts to himself after having been fairly chatty in the auto. Without the distraction of driving, I supposed the reality had crashed down again. “There he is,” he said, pointing through the condensation-wet window. “Ready?” “Nope. Let’s go.” Sanjeev bowed politely as we approached. “Sorry for the delay. The roads are a mess. Rural life, eh?” “Yes,” Shardul agreed. “Are we leaving immediately?” “Yes, because we’re late. If you need the restroom, I suggest you use it here, as we

have a long journey.” He’d barely given me a second look. Nothing, certainly, to indicate that he thought Gafur Kawildin’s appearance had changed. But something was bothering him. His jaw twitched with the tension I sensed in him and he avoided looking at either of us for too long. My hackles went up—was this a trap? “Is something wrong?” I asked, backing away subtly, wishing I had a weapon handy. “No, no. Just hurry, we’re late.” Unconvinced, I followed Shardul to the restroom. “He’s uptight about something. We could be walking into a setup.” My words were as much for the recorder implant as for Shardul. “Do we cancel? Isn’t it too late for that?” I bit my lip, thinking. If I was wrong, I’d be wrecking a vital chance to reach the heart of the terrorist network. If I was right, I could be putting Shardul at unacceptable risk. “Can you plead illness or something? At least if you get away....” “No. That will rouse suspicions even if there’s nothing going on.” He regarded me calmly. “I trust your instincts.” “Thanks,” I said sourly. “Okay, follow my lead. I need a chance to assess him again.” We used the facilities and walked out. Sanjeev paced nervously by his vehicle. I read him carefully. If he was about to betray us, I would sense fear, maybe anger. But all I got was nervousness—and embarrassment, which was odd. Kind of what I’d expect if he was about to ask for a favour. “Let’s do it,” I muttered. Shardul gave me the slightest nod. “All ready,” I said, smiling broadly at him. “Leave our auto here?” “Yes, it will be safe. Come along.” But as we came alongside his auto, he gave us a sickly look. “I’m sorry, but they’ve insisted on...making sure you don’t know where we’re going.” My instincts did a one-eighty, and my leg muscles bunched as I prepared to grab Shardul and run for it. “How?” “A safe drug. It will make you sleep for several hours. I’m sorry...I know it’s a lot to ask.” “It certainly is,” Shardul snapped. “Why wasn’t this mentioned, Sanjeev?” “They were afraid you would refuse to meet with them. Please, Shardul, the drug is quite safe. I checked it out. Here, look for yourself, but be discreet, of course.”

He handed over a small hypospray capsule from his pocket. Shardul looked at the label, then handed it to me. “He’s right,” I said. “It’s a common sedative. Do you have any allergies?” Shardul shook his head. “If the drug is what it claims to be, then I think it’s okay. Sanjeev, you realise people will see you drive us away.” “Yes. If it proves to be other than I have said—if harm comes to you from it—then I will bear the consequences, as the Seeker teaches.” That would have been more convincing if he wasn’t acting as the conduit for a dangerous bunch of people prepared to kill and maim to get what they wanted, but by his own twisted logic, killing fellow udawathei probably would be wrong. “Then on your head,” I said. “Shardul?” “It would indeed be a grave stain on the spirit. But I trust him.” He certainly didn’t, but he said he trusted me, and I thought that was no lie. “So how do we do this?” I asked. Sanjeev’s emotions brightened as we capitulated, and he became almost animated. “Climb in, put on your harnesses, and I will inject you. You will regain consciousness quite naturally in four hours or so. I truly believe it to be safe, Gafur.” I shrugged and got into the rear seat of his auto. Shardul sat on the other side and harnessed up, his expression giving nothing away. “Comfortable?” Sanjeev asked, still radiating raw nervousness. “We’re fine,” Shardul said. “Please get on with it.” Sanjeev leaned in, hypospray in hand, but before he could apply it to Shardul’s neck, I grabbed his wrist. “Any harm comes to him, my spirit will haunt yours for the rest of your life.” He paled. “I understand. I would never hurt either of you, I swear by the Spirit and the Seeker’s heart.” Pretty powerful oath. “Okay.” I let him go and he injected Shardul, the spray making a tiny hiss. I stared steadily at him, though my chest was tight with fear, as he put the spray to my neck. Udawatha or not, I bloody mean it, Sanjeev. ~~~~~~~~ I roused slowly, thick-headed and disoriented, taking too long to work out where I was. When I did, I turned to Shardul. His utter stillness sent fear shooting through me, until I touched his neck and felt the strong pulse there, and saw his chest rising and falling evenly.

Just asleep. Just as well for Sanjeev. It was still raining, and the clouds had deepened. My watch told me we were nearly three hours from nightfall, but it was so dark in the auto I had to use the backlight on my watch to read the time. In front Sanjeev had lost the embarrassed nervousness and all I sensed was concentration and frustration, no doubt at the weather and the slow pace. The auto wasn’t making much speed. I took Shardul’s hand and squeezed. After a few seconds, he shifted, and his eyes popped open. He started to say something, but then stopped. “We survived,” he said in a rough voice. He glanced down at our hands. I let go unhurriedly. “How long?” “Nearly five hours. Maybe we needed the nap.” He snorted, then tapped on the back of Sanjeev’s seat. “How much further?” Sanjeev jumped in surprise. “Ah, you’re awake. And well?” “Yes. Are we there?” “No. The weather has closed roads. I’m heading to a...a friend’s farm for the evening. We’ll resume our journey in the morning.” I detected no deception, only more aggravation, and now, some fatigue. “Fine,” Shardul said, sounding relaxed. “I just need to be back in time for work next week.” “You will be, I promise. It will be another hour or so before we get there, if the roads are still open.” The rain continued to torrent down, but the darkness was as much from the heavy vegetation lining the road as the clouds. We were in the middle of nowhere, judging by the road. I hoped Captain Largosen was tracking me like he said. Within half an hour, the auto had dropped to a crawl, and ten minutes later, came to a complete stop. “The road’s completely flooded,” Sanjeev turned to tell us. “I can call my friends and ask them to come meet us, but we’ll have to travel by foot.” “So they have a vehicle? Why don’t we just wait for them to collect us?” I asked. “It’s only a cart, drawn by kolijas. They can’t use it in these conditions. We will have to walk at least two kilometres, but they will catch up to us on the way.” “Great. I didn’t bring any wet gear. You?” I asked Shardul. “Only my coat. But a little rain won’t hurt you.” “I suggest you leave your packs,” Sanjeev said. “The less that gets wet, the easier it will be.” I would be the first to admit that I wasn’t one for roughing it, and the idea of walking

in drenching rain wearing nothing but a light coat over my street clothes didn’t appeal at all. But Shardul was no better off, and he wasn’t bitching, so I had my manly reputation to consider. “Walk in the park, eh?” I said. Shardul smiled at me in a way that told me I was fooling no one, especially him. The rain soaked us to the skin in seconds, and though the ambient temperature was warm enough, the rain was cold. Weeks locked away in hospitals and apartments was no training for this. Sanjeev held a torch for us. “This way. There’s a path beside the road once we get past this.” We had to wade nearly waist high through muddy water to cross the flooded section, which was a completely disgusting activity. At least I was only ruining borrowed boots but I hoped the magnetic seal over the concealed cavities was watertight. Shardul clung to my shoulder, and I clung to Sanjeev’s, grateful the flood wasn’t a running stream so we weren’t fighting a current. The flickering light from the torch did little to illuminate the way, so progress was made more by feel than by sight. I wasn’t the only one who heaved a sigh or relief when we made it to the other side. “Spirit save me, that was nasty,” Shardul muttered. “I’m sorry,” Sanjeev said, actually wringing his hands. “This has all been a great nuisance, I know.” “Can we go?” I said, cranky at the rain in my face and on my bare head. “I’m cold.” “Yes, of course. This way.” There was a path, as promised, but a narrow one mainly made of rocks and slippery mud. Time and again one of us skidded, all too often landing butt or knees down in the muck. “Your friends better have a change of clothes,” I yelled at Sanjeev, ahead of me. “Yes, yes, they will. Just move as fast as you can, Gafur.” “I’m not exactly loitering, you bastard,” I said for Shardul’s ears, and was rewarded by a quiet snort. The weather was deteriorating, and continuous thunder made conversation virtually impossible. Sanjeev was deathly afraid, and even Shardul, usually the soul of calmness, radiated uneasiness. “The sooner we’re under cover the better,” he bellowed into my ear. “Agreed. Where the hell are those people?” Sanjeev was forging on ahead, leaving us to get on as best we could. The wind grew stronger and the thunder more ominous by the second. Even a city boy like me could tell that meant trouble.

Lightning struck mere metres from us, the explosion and blinding light battering us to the ground in reflex. “Shit! Should we get under the trees?” “No, that’s the worst thing to do,” Shardul yelled. “Just run...and pray.” “Funny man!” I shouted back, even as we picked ourselves up and tried to put some speed on. We caught up to Sanjeev and grabbed his arm, because fear had paralysed the man and he couldn’t seem to comprehend the danger we were in. Another lightning strike, a little further away. Did that mean the storm was passing? I cursed my ignorance of natural phenomena and clung tightly to Shardul and Sanjeev, for protection as much as to protect. Great. Now another flood blocked the path. “Hold onto him,” I shouted to Shardul. “I’ll see how deep it goes.” I grabbed the torch from Sanjeev’s hand, and edged carefully into the black pool. I slipped but managed to keep my feet. I reached midpoint, where the water only came to mid-calf. “Looks okay! Let me get to the other side, and you can come over!” Shardul waved to show he’d heard. I pressed on and reached the other side of the flood without incident. “It’s fine. Just slippery.” I held the torch to try and give the two of them some light, though the torch was pathetically weak and the driving gusts of wind and rain meant the beam did little good. What I wouldn’t have given for my service flashlight right now. Thunder cracked, and more lightning flashed way too close. “Hurry!” I yelled. They were nearly clear of the water when a sound like a thousand gunshots went off in my left ear, and I threw my arm over my eyes to protect them against the flare. Lightning had struck a tree about ten metres from me. I was just thinking, “Good thing it was too wet to cause a forest fire,” when Shardul bellowed, “Watch out! Ja...Gafur! It’s falling!” I twisted, looked up, and too late realised what he’d seen. I ran, but the damn mud and treacherous stones sent me sprawling. “Run!” Shardul screamed, but before I could get up, a giant’s fist smacked me across the head, and drove me into the dark.

Chapter 8 I came to in pain and highly confused as to why I was wet and being pelted with water. Someone shone a light in my face and I yelped. “Thank the Spirit,” the someone said. “He’s awake.” “Sh-Shardul?” “Yes, it’s me. Lie still. You have a head injury.” “’Kay.” I closed my eyes, in too much pain to prod my uncertain memories, or to ask what in the name of reason was going on. I passed out again while Shardul and Sanjeev carried me clumsily, hands under my armpits and ankles. I woke again on a jolting, hard surface, Shardul clutching my hand. “Shhh, it’s a cart. Not long now,” he soothed. It felt like forever, but the painful jolting did stop, and more hands helped me out of the cart. Strangers’ voices spoke orders in Nihani, and Shardul dried me off before setting me, wrapped in a rough blanket, on a chair before a fire. I huddled there in misery, eyes closed against the fire’s glare, too dazed and in pain to care what was going on. Shardul was there, and while he was, I could let him take charge. A little while later, a woman spoke to him and then Shardul urged me to stand and get out of my wet things. He manhandled me into dry underwear the woman must have given him, and urged me with Sanjeev’s help into another room, where at last I could lie down on a real bed, under real covers. I felt I should do something, but honestly, I couldn’t make myself. My limbs were leaden, frozen, and my thoughts too fuzzy to make them work. All I could do was shiver. I heard Shardul speaking in Nihani with someone at the door of the room, then the quiet click of the door closing. “I have their medical kit. Let me check your injuries.” “Kn-know what you’re doing?” I mumbled, eyes still closed. “Enough, and do you really want them poking around your face? Your cheek is torn, perhaps fractured.” I lifted a hand to touch it, but he pushed it away. “Don’t. I can patch it up until we return to Hegal. I’m more concerned about your concussion, but unless we could call for air transport, there’s no way we can get you to a hospital tonight. And, er, I think it’s better that didn’t happen here.” “Where?”

He started to gently clean the injuries. It hurt, but I could tell he was being as careful as possible, and like he said, better him than the strangers. “I don’t know. North, somewhere. I’m being as friendly and unthreatening as possible. Sanjeev told the family we’re lovers, so this is our room. I have clean, dry clothes for us, and Nadira is bringing a hot brick for you. We're safe here, I think. For tonight, at least.” “Why tonight?” I wanted to ask, but then I remembered. The people we were supposed to meet. How would we do that now? I decided to worry about that later. He put something cold which stung on my cheek. “Is it bad?” “Bad enough,” he admitted. “Your cheek is crushed, but I think it’s the implant, not your bone.” He shone the lamp in my eyes. I knocked his hand away. “Stop it.” “I have to check your pupils.” I muttered something rude about “Doctor Shardul” but let him do what he wanted. “They seem okay. If you do have a brain haemorrhage going, there’s nothing much I can do for you.” I screwed up my nose at him, which hurt. “Thanks.” “I don’t really think you’re dying.” He found that entirely too amusing, I thought. Having the cuts, bumps and abrasions cleaned and dressed took a long time, and I enjoyed none of it. But by the end, I was a little warmer, and with the stone the farmers had heated for me in their stove and wrapped in a towel, tucked against my side, I felt almost comfortable. Their herbal painkiller did nothing for the headache or the pain in my back and shoulder. Shardul pulled a pair of loose sleeping pants onto me, handling me as dispassionately as he would a mannequin, and dressed out of my sight in the same manner. He climbed into the bed beside me, and though in other circumstances this would be a dream come true, all I could think was how warm he was. “You’re like ice,” he murmured. “Still feel rotten?” “Mmmm. Better. Thanks.” “I’ll try and put them off tomorrow, give you time to recover. Should I try and cancel this meeting, get you back to the city?” “No. Not yet. Think tomorrow.” “Understood. Rest well.” I wanted to say the same, but exhaustion and brain fog tugged me under. ~~~~~~~~

When I woke next, there was light through the windows, and the rain had stopped. I’d been knocked out—and about—before so I expected the next morning to be lousy, and I was right. But with Shardul a deceptively peaceful, warm presence next to me, all I wanted to do was curl around him and pretend I could wake up with him every morning. But he wasn’t Kirin or my lover at all, and this situation was the last thing I’d have engineered, so I had to keep my pleasure to myself, and not let it colour my reactions. Trying not to disturb him, I tested my body the way I’d learned to do after the shooting four years ago, stretching carefully, listening to the pings and pains. Nothing broken. All the aches concentrated on my head, neck and shoulders, and for the first time, I realised I’d had the most incredible escape. It had to have been a branch, not the trunk, that hit me or I’d be a soggy smear on that damn path. My head was the worst of it, throbbing madly, and when I finally stood, I knew I’d be nauseous. The longer I could rest, the better I’d be, but how long I’d be allowed depended on the people who wanted to meet me. Part of me wanted to accept Shardul’s suggestion and slink back to Hegal—but then we’d just have to go through this again, and soon. No, better to stick with the plan. At least any oddities on my part could be explained by the head injury. But right now, I didn’t want to move. Shardul’s handsome face in sleep was a picture of serenity. I would have happily lain there for hours, watching, relishing the illicit luxury of being close to him. It hurt, of course. I wanted him so much, and here he was, actually thigh to thigh with me. It was nothing but an illusion, I knew that, but the last few weeks had had precious few moments of pleasure, or of beauty—or peace—and I was weak enough to take what I could get, while I could. I dozed again, for how long, I didn’t know, and when I woke again, Shardul was up, sitting in a chair, a shawl over his bare shoulders, his braids as sleek and neat as always. He looked surprisingly neatly groomed, considering he’d been as wet and dirty as I had last night. “Ah, there you are. How do you feel?” “Like I had too many beers and landed face first on the pavement afterwards. How do I look?” “Like a man who had a fight with the ground and lost, indeed. But you’re coherent, at least.” “Don’t put too much faith in that. I need a leak, and where are my clothes? The boots, I need.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Thank you, Shardul, for looking after me last night.”

I made a disgusted sound. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry. My head’s killing me. Talking hurts. My teeth hurt.” “I’m sure. I’ll go ask about various things. Stay in bed.” I didn’t need to be told, and pulled the covers over my head until the door closed. I peeked out then to examine my surroundings. I’d stayed in a rural Nihani home exactly once, and this sturdy farmhouse bore little physical resemblance to that building on stilts belonging to Jyoti’s aunt and uncle in the Demultan Flats. But both had the same oldfashioned feel—no electrical lights, no gadgets, the furniture old and worn, the rug and bedclothes handmade and probably at least a generation old. Whose room was this? An aged parent’s, deceased not that long ago? Not the farmer couple’s own bedroom, I thought. It felt unused, kept clean and neat out of respect. Did this family know what their friends were up to? Were they involved? This room, the feeling of family and history, didn’t fit with my image of terrorists, or what had been done to Yashi and his home. Was there such a difference between these people and mine, that they couldn’t imagine the pain they had caused—or care? I was making my head ache . My job was to find out the ‘who’, and Captain Largosen could work out the ‘why’ later. Motives didn’t matter. Stopping the bad guys was all that counted. Shardul returned and caught me dozing. “Javen,” he whispered. “Don’t,” I mumbled, twisting and wincing. “Not even here. Someone might be listening.” “All right. Everyone’s eating breakfast. Here.” He held a thing like a huge chai cup with a lid. “What the hell’s that?” “For now, your latrine. Sorry. Their outhouse is...well, out. We are in the middle of nowhere.” “I have to piss into a bucket? Shoot me.” “If I have to.” He found it too amusing, bastard. “Nadira washed our clothes, and dried them. Our shoes are dry too. She made us a tray so we can eat in here. They’re lovely people.” “Hmmm.” I climbed awkwardly out of bed, and clung to the bedpost as the room whirled around me and my stomach roiled. He started towards me to help, but I held my hand up to stop him, signalled for him to turn around, and then used the horrible bucket cup thing to relieve my aching bladder. I shoved it under the bed, hoping I wouldn’t need it again. “Please tell me we can get out of here today?”

“The road’s still cut, but the rain has stopped and the forecast is for fair weather the rest of the weekend. Sanjeev contacted his friends. They’re on their way.” “Damn. I’m not exactly at my best.” He turned, his expression telling me he’d understood what I’d really meant to say. “Drink some chai, go back to bed. I’ll take care of things.” Meaning he’d run interference with the Nihani family and Sanjeev. It felt so good to have him at my back again. Almost like nothing had changed. The sweetened chai helped a little but not as much as lying down again. My cheek throbbed as bad as my head did, and worried me more. Had the electronics been damaged? Was the bone underneath the implant crushed? For the first time in my very privileged life, I was nowhere near excellent medical care, and it scared me. One of the props I’d taken for granted in my existence was gone. Had I been more seriously hurt last night, the lack of quick attention could have been fatal. This was what it was like for Ekanga’s people, for many Nihani—even for Jyoti’s cousins in the Demultan Flats. It was so primitive. Why did anyone have to live like this these days? Maybe this was the true breeding ground of terrorism—not the cities and the thousand daily insults to the minority, but here, where outdoor toilets, lousy healthcare and limited electricity were the norm. I didn’t have the data or the brain power right now to figure it out. I needed to rest so my head would be clear enough to deal with Sanjeev’s friends. I’d have given a kidney for an effective painkiller or even an icepack. The best I could do was lie still with the covers over my face to cut out as much light through my eyelids as possible, and hope I would sleep again. I got my wish, because the next thing I knew, Shardul was shaking me gently by the shoulder. “Wake up, they’re here.” “Who?” I tried to lift myself up, and fell back with a groan as all the aches and pains in my upper body made nuisances of themselves again. He helped me sit. “Sanjeev’s friends. Can you face it?” I swung my legs out of the bed and grimaced. “Yeah, if I take it slow.” “There’s fresh chai to have. I made it clear to everyone that you’re really not well, and I don’t think they expect much. I’ve spoken to them, been cooperative and friendly—if you can show your face, answer a couple of questions, that should be enough.” “Fine. And then we can get out of here?” “Tomorrow morning. The road’s clear, but Sanjeev doesn’t want to drive tonight.”

When I asked, he told me it was nearly nightfall. I’d slept right through the day. I felt a little better, but far from normal. “Help me dress? Wait, I need a piss.” I used the horrible bucket again, and then he helped me into my salwar, expression studiedly neutral. His feelings felt...absent “Why can’t I sense you any more? You’re doing something to my talent.” “Yes. Now’s not the time—” I held his wrist, and forced him to look at me. “You can’t hide behind that forever, Shardul. I want the truth.” “You shall have it, I swear by the Spirit.” His eyes usually gave so much away of his real thoughts, but even they were silent, opaque to me. “But not now. Here’s your shirt.” He produced a borrowed brush for my hair, and a basin and jug on the side held water for me to splash my face. I still felt like reheated shit, but maybe my pathetic appearance would count in my favour. Shardul took my arm and supported me a little more than I needed, but I recognised what he was doing, and let him. The room he led me into was dimly lit, dull dusk coming through the windows, with only a single lamp on a table throwing the faces of four men into shadow. Sanjeev, and three strangers. “Dandak, this is Gafur Kawildin. Gafur, this is Chakshu and Ojas.” I pressed my hands together in greeting. “Jiagan fulti.” “Please sit,” Dandak said, and Shardul helped me to a chair. “We were sorry to hear of your accident. How do you feel?” Words of concern, but his main emotion was wariness. He was assessing me, and his acceptance was far from assured. “Rough,” I said, giving him a smile. “Could have been worse.” “Yes, indeed. Chai?” “Please.” Sanjeev stood to pour, Dandak watching me carefully. “So, you wanted to meet me. Tell me what you want to know.” Dandak leaned forward, and lowered his voice. The farmer couple weren’t there, and he didn’t want them knowing his business. Maybe the farmers were innocent bystanders after all. It made me feel a little better about the situation, and a little worse, for dragging them into the mess. “You’ve passed on some warnings which have helped honest Nihan to escape the unjust Kelon police, Gafur. Are you happy to continue to do so?” “Yes. I have to be careful, but so long as I am, I can do this for our people.”

“Good. But...what if we wanted something which might require more direct action?” I pretended to be a little nervous. “People know my face. I can’t...well, set devices. Not that I’m accusing you of that.” “We wouldn’t ask that of you, but let’s be blunt here. A few Kelons might have to be hurt to achieve what must be achieved. People who have won their comfortable lives from the backs of our kind. Parasites, like the Ythen family.” “For what he did to the man I love, I would kill Javen Ythen myself,” I said. “Don’t blame you,” Dandak said, sounding pleased. “No, the direct action would be in the nature of misinformation. Planting files in their systems, giving false data. Perhaps deleting or altering files on our people. Could you do that?” “I think so.” “And if we asked for, say, the itinerary of certain events or transport routes to meetings, you could get that?” “The chief gets just about everything the governor does,” I lied. “And if he gets it, I can give it to you.” “Wonderful. You would be doing the cause of freedom a great service, Gafur. Our people will honour you.” And that was all he wanted, apparently. People relaxed, and I risked a smile at Shardul, who returned it in a strained manner. Sanjeev was positively jovial, grinning at Dandak who indulged him, though his real feelings weren’t as comfortable as he wanted them to appear. Dandak trusted Sanjeev, I suspected, but didn’t rate him highly. He saw Sanjeev as a means to an end, not a friend. Useful information? Maybe, maybe not. Finding out Dandak’s real identity would be much more useful. “Perhaps we could get some more chai, and something to eat,” Sanjeev said. “Gafur, you must be hungry.” “A little, but I don’t want to put anyone out.” “You aren’t. Nadira said she could bring refreshments in as soon as we were finished. We are, aren’t we? Excellent.” He went off, I presumed, in search of Nadira and food. Pure relief drove his good mood. Now he could stop worrying about things going wrong, the way he had since we’d met at the service stop. What exactly worried him, I wondered? What did he have at stake, that Dandak could threaten? Until this ill-fated trip, Sanjeev had come off as an alpha male type, but Dandak was the real top dog. It was his trust I needed to win. I’d made a good start, I felt, but I’d need to do more. I had to feed

him the information he wanted, in quality and quantity. Shardul wanted out of here, I could tell, and I didn’t blame him. Dandak gave me the creeps and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he planned to do with the information he wanted. I couldn’t be sure whether Dandak had asked for what he really wanted, or what he thought would test my commitment. Fortunately it wasn’t up to me or my aching head to figure it out. All I had to do was pass what I’d heard and learned over to Captain Largosen and he and his clever guys could analyse it to their little hearts’ content, while I got medical attention back in civilisation. I blamed the head injury for what happened next, but I should have been on alert. Sanjeev returned bearing the chai pot, and behind him, a tiny Nihani woman who was surely older than my grandfather, carrying a tray of sweets. Nadira, I assumed. She set the tray before me, smiling nervously, but then her smile grew brighter just as I felt the tell-tale tingle at the back of my head. Oh shit. My face froze in shock, but even if I’d been able to fake it, no way could I fool her talent. Her smile slipped and she straightened up, confused at my reaction. Dandak snapped at her in Nihani, and she answered. I felt Shardul’s anxiety spike, his hand on my arm gripping me, but we had no chance to get out of here even if I wasn’t sluggish and stupid. Chakshu grabbed Shardul and pulled him back from me. Dandak pulled out a small but entirely lethal Mahul automatic, and pointed it at my head. Sanjeev jumped in fright, babbling in Nihani. I didn’t need to speak his language to know he was saying “what the fucking fuck, and by the way I had nothing to do with it!” I put my hands up. “Now, calm down, guys. What’s the problem?” I hoped against hope he hadn’t figured out, but Dandak was as smart as I feared. “You’re matos. You can’t have been a cop.” He took the safety off. “Who are you?” I opened my mouth to make an implausible denial, but he didn’t wait, barking a command at Ojas, who pulled a device out of his coat, and moved towards me. “Whoa! What’s—” “Shut up or I kill him,” Dandak snapped, pointing his weapon at Shardul. “Do it,” he ordered Ojas. Ojas shoved me to my feet, running the device over my body. A scanner, I figured. Sanjeev stared at me in horror, as if I’d split open and revealed a monster hidden in my skin. I suppose I had.

A chilly calm came over me. I felt Shardul’s fear, the hate and suspicion of the three men, the miserable confusion of the old woman, and Sanjeev’s crippling terror. I knew we couldn’t escape. I couldn’t save myself. My only hope was saving Shardul. “Let him go,” I said, my voice sounding oddly flat and even to my ears. “He knows nothing. I tricked him like I tricked Sanjeev.” Dandak’s blue eyes remained cold, and his emotions, like his aim, flickered not at all. Ojas continued his scanning. To my surprise he stopped, shaking his head, and spoke to Dandak. Had he really not found the implants? Ojas pushed me back down to the chair. Dandak leaned forward, assessing me. “Who are you?” “Gafur Kawildin from Hegal. You’re right. I’m not a cop. I...I’ve been lying. I wanted to meet you, do something for our people. I really do work for the police though. Ask Sanjeev. The information I gave him was accurate. I want to help.” His eyes narrowed, and a sliver of uncertainty entered his emotions. Could it work? Would he believe me? He stood, and held his hand out for Ojas’s device. “Who knows you’re here?” “No one but Shardul, I swear. I’m not stupid. The chuma cops are looking for you. I’ve got access to their system. I can pull out whatever you need to know. I thought if you believed I was a cop too, you’d trust me. I’m sorry, okay? It was a dumb thing to do.” Please let him believe me. It was the only hope I had of saving Shardul, if not myself. He stood in front of me, staring down. No one moved, or made a sound. Waiting, like I was, for his next move. He raised his hand to my face, and I jerked in reflex. “Careful. I think my cheek’s broken.” Dandak sneered. “Hold them,” he told the men restraining us. “I’m going to call someone.” Nadira had fled as soon as the shouting started. Shardul was looking for a way to get out of this by force, I sensed, and I wished I could signal to him not to risk his life. We had a better chance of arguing our way out. Not a very big chance, but fighting these brutes in my condition was hopeless. Sanjeev might not help them but he wasn’t going to help us either. Dandak was back in very little time, and he shouted in Nihani at Sanjeev who leapt to his feet. Shardul shouted back, but his captor had him firmly under control. “Let him go!” I yelled up at Dandak. “He’s done nothing.”

“Only bring a spy into our midst. There’s something interesting about Shardul, Sanjeev. His best friend until a few months ago was the governor’s son, Javen Ythen, a former cop.” “Yes, but he—” Dandak sliced impatiently through the air to silence Sanjeev, who cowered and shut up. “Then Javen Ythen apparently goes back to Kelon, good riddance, and who should Sri Shardul start to be seen associating with? Another dark-haired man who bears a superficial resemblance to Ythen, is exactly the same height and build, and also a former cop. Who, we discover, is matos—just like Javen Ythen. And who has some kind of cheek implant.” Fuck. Dandak crouched before me, and suddenly ripped the dressing off my skin. I yelped in pain, but he stopped me clapping my hand over the injury with a brutally strong hand on my wrist. He raised the scanner and held it against my face. It beeped softly, and he smiled nastily. He did something with the device. Blazing agony shot through my skull, and I yelled, pulling away from his attack. He yanked me hard, dragging me close, running the scanner over my forehead and jaw. Another jab of pain, blinding me. I collapsed off the chair, holding my face, the fiery pain easing only slightly. A kick to my side made me cry out and curl around the hurt. “Someone’s tracking you. Not any more.” His automatic clicked quietly as he readied a shot. I couldn’t see him for the pain tears. I waited for the bullet, hoping he believed me about Shardul. “Shardul doesn’t know anything, I swear. He’s nothing to me. Just a pawn. Let him go and you can do what you want with me.” “I can do that anyway.” Dandak grabbed my collar, hauled me up, and jabbed a hypospray at my neck. I barely registered that he wasn’t going to shoot me, before everything went away. ~~~~~~~~ Waking was about as unpleasant an experience as I’d ever had in my life. My head pounded with every beat of my heart, and my vision sparkled in rhythm. My mouth tasted like someone had taken a piss in it, and my body was a mass of aches and tortured muscles. I panted through the worst of the pain, trying to figure out my situation and location. My hands and feet were tied with rope, tightly with no give. I was on my back. I rolled onto my side, and saw another person lying still and bound about a metre from me. Shardul. I held my breath while I listened for his. When I heard it, saw his chest rise and fall slowly, the tight worry in my own eased a little. But only a little, because we were both prisoners,

and who knew where? I looked around. We were indoors, in a small dark room with the dim shapes of boxes and sacks just visible in the gloom. A storeroom, for food, I guessed, going by the smell. No helpful tools or sharp edges to cut our bonds, and when I squinted, I saw the light under a rough wooden door intermittently interrupted, as if someone stood guard outside. First things first. We were both alive, though I had no idea why. I had no idea where we were, but I figured we’d been taken some way from the farm. If Dandak had disabled my implants, then Captain Largosen couldn’t track me, and presumably Dandak wanted us well away from our last known position. But why not just shoot me? Both of us? I couldn’t guess and my head hurt too much for prolonged concentration. Shardul. I needed him awake, because he was smarter than me, and two of us had a better chance of escape than one alone. Painfully I wriggled my clumsy way over to Shardul, coming up to lie behind him. “Shardul, wake up.” No reaction. He weighed less than me, so the drugs would have taken more hold on him if we’d had an equivalent dose. My fear was that he’d been injured on top of it. I had no way of knowing what had happened to him after I’d lost consciousness, and he could have been roughed up, questioned under duress. Dandak had shown no interest in my protestations of Shardul’s innocence, and he might have thought Shardul was a softer touch to having the truth beaten out of him. My imagination had Shardul dying before my eyes, and it made me desperate. I nudged him as hard as I could. “Shardul.” He made a sound—a grunt, a moan, I wasn’t sure—and inhaled sharply. “Javen?” he whispered groggily. “Here. Shhh, there’s a guard.” He grunted again. “Are you hurt?” I asked, wishing he’d roll over. He took some time to answer. “No. Sore, though. I think we weren’t handled very carefully.” “They knocked you out when they did me?” “Yes. No questions first, which was odd.” “No need. We were betrayed.” “Largosen?” “No idea. We have to get out of here.”

He chuckled dryly. “I know you’re amazingly talented, but I suspect making ropes evaporate is beyond even you.” “Wasn’t planning on evaporating them, just cutting them. In my boot heel, there’s a knife. I need you to get it out and use it on my restraints. We should hurry. I have no idea what their plans are for us.” “The things we don’t know about all this are too numerous. Move back, will you?” I did so and awkwardly manoeuvred around so my head was level with Shardul’s feet. I couldn’t do much else to help him. He had to open the magnetic catch on my right boot heel and winkle out the little knife on his own. His fingers were probably numb, like mine. He couldn’t do the cutting himself, I realised after a few fumbled attempts, so I had him hold the knife as hard and firmly as he could, while I rubbed the rope around my wrists against it. The knife was small, and the rope tough and new. I couldn’t even tell if I was making any headway at all, or if I was cutting skin instead of the bonds. Both of us were working behind our backs, and my hands had lost all sensation. “Should teach this stuff at University,” I said, grunting with effort. “Quite. And all heels should have bigger knives installed. This isn’t working, Javen.” “It’s all we have.” “I could pray.” “So go ahead. Just hold the fucking knife while you do it, okay?” He went silent, and I kept working. Whether it was his prayers or sheer blind luck, I didn’t know, but five seconds later, I thought I felt some give. I tried forcing my wrists apart, and fell forward in shock as it worked. “Bloody hell!” “What? Are you all right?” “Yes. It worked. Give me a minute or two.” “Thank the Spirit,” he breathed, and I was inclined to give him that, since praying might have helped him concentrate, at least. I dragged my numb and useless arms around in front of me. “Bloody” was the right word—we’d made a mess of my skin. But it was all superficial. The most important thing was I had use of my hands...or would do, once the blood supply returned, which it did, slowly and very painfully. I had to bite my sleeve so not to moan at the additional agony. Cutting the rest of the ropes away took a lot less time. Shardul wasn’t as pleased as I was at being free from them. “You look terrible, and I think that cheek wound is becoming infected.”

“If we don’t get out of here, an infection is the least of my worries, and so’s a head injury. I need your brain, Shardul. Mine’s wrecked.” He snorted with amusement, which cheered me a little, even though nothing about this was funny. “I can’t see how my brain is going to get us out of this room.” “Any idea where we are?” “Not in the slightest. Rural is my only guess, which covers ninety-five percent of Medele. We didn’t know where we started from, remember?” “Take a look around the room, see if you can find something we can use as a weapon. But quietly.” He slipped his shoes off and climbed silently to his feet, while I watched the ankles of the guard outside. He had the tiny torch from my heel pack to help him. The only other light we had came through the crack at the bottom of the door, and that wasn’t much. I didn’t attempt to get up off the floor—I was far too dizzy for that, and the exertion of getting freed from the ropes had nauseated me. I lay with my ear to the floorboards, hoping to maybe hear conversations in the rest of the house, figure out how many people were holding us. The building we were in creaked and groaned quietly, and I guessed it was wood all the way, which carried sound nicely. I heard no voices, but what I did hear surprised me. Water. Not running through pipes, but lapping softly against something underneath us. I listened for a good two minutes before my sluggish brain figured it out. “I know where we are, I think.” Shardul padded quietly over to me and crouched down. “Where?” “Demultan Flats. It’s the rainy season, so the river’s in flood, right? This building is over water. Is there anywhere else where they build like that?” “Not that I know of. But does that help? We’re still without a weapon, or transport, and you’re hurt.” “Details, details. Help me up, and give me the torch.” Jyoti had told me when I was out here the last time that the floorboards in many houses weren’t fixed for easy replacement and drying during excessive floods. I hoped she was right, and that it was true for this building. I pried at the crack between two boards with the little knife, not making any obvious headway. “What are you trying to do?” Shardul whispered. “Lift one of the boards so we can drop through.”

“You’ll make too much noise, and the boards will be tight from all the moisture.” I glared at him, realising he was right, but annoyed he had ruined my great plan. “We can’t just sit here.” “No. Let me have the torch again, please.” I was out of ideas, and his brain worked better than mine, so I handed it over, still irritated, and now worried. If we couldn’t get out of here in the next few hours, while it was still dark, we would be helpless to prevent Dandak doing whatever the hell he wanted. Up to and including shooting us and dropping our bodies into the river to drift out to sea. The only question was why he hadn’t already done that. Shardul moved a sack. “Careful,” I breathed. He turned and gave me a look I couldn’t see in the shadows, but my empathy told me he had already considered the noise issue, so would I please shut up? He moved some other items, not making a single sound, though the boards creaked a little. The guard’s feet didn’t move. Maybe he was asleep. Hoped so. “There.” He pointed at the floor, and I slid over to see. “A hatch, unlocked. They must unload and load through here in the wet season.” Dandak had either forgotten or not known about it—or assumed that two tied up men wouldn’t be able to use this escape route. “Hinges make noise.” “Yes. No help for it...ah, in your heel. Is there anything in the medical kit?” I stuck my foot out and he opened the heel catch, taking out the sealed kit. The antibiotic cream? It was usually greasy, wasn’t it? He examined the content, and extracted the tube of ointment, and a minijector. “What’s this?” “Mahozil. Painkiller.” “Use it, Javen. If we get out of here, you’ll need to be as active and alert as possible.” He had a point, and after I stuck the minijector against my neck to deliver the Mahozil dose, he used some of the cream on my cheek injury. “Waste of time,” I said. “Possibly. Hold the torch, will you?” He squeezed the tube against the ancient metal hinges. There didn’t look like enough of the cream to make the slightest difference, but we had to try—and hope like fuck the hatch wasn’t locked on the other side, or stuck from swollen wood. He must have had the same fear, because he took the knife and carefully eased it all the way around the edge of the hatch. That wouldn’t have occurred to me. If I had to be stuck

in this mess with anyone, I was glad it was Shardul. Except I would never forgive myself if anything—anything else, at least—happened to him. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to sound less anxious than I was. The painkiller had taken effect, but even in peak condition, I’d be worried. It was the middle of the night, the middle of the flood, and I had no idea where in the Flats we were or if we were in the Flats in the first place. Rural Medele wasn’t friendly toward Kelons, as I knew well. Getting out of this storeroom wasn’t even half the problem. He nodded, and gave me back the knife. “Whatever you do, don’t lose that or the light. They’re all we have.” He eased the heavy ring grip up, then put his strength behind lifting the hatch itself. I held my breath, willing the wood to move smoothly. It did, years of constant use making it loose and easy to move. I gave Shardul a thumb’s up and his grin flashed white in the dark. “Hope you can swim,” he said. “Like a quirnel. You first.” There was a ladder leading down from the hatch, fairly logically, and Shardul went down, slow and silent. A smell of damp rotting vegetation wafted out of the hole, and I wondered how I could have missed that unforgettable odour in the first place. “Torch,” he signalled, and when I gave it to him, he swept the darkness below him. He popped up out of the hole. “There’s a boat tethered to a support just here.” “Chain or rope?” “Can’t tell. Knife?” I passed it to him, and he dropped down again. I bit my lip. A boat was unimaginable good luck. Even if I had no idea where we were, away from here could only be a good thing. Shardul reappeared. “It’s only tied. Come on.” I eased over to the hatch, and climbed down carefully, still dizzy and suffering an alarming vertigo as soon as I was upright. At least the pains and aches had receded. I needed to make the most of that before the painkiller wore off. Shardul waited for me in the little boat, holding the torch to give me as much light as he could—which wasn’t much. The boat rocked as I climbed in, and he hissed in a breath, as worried as I was. My heart was thumping by the time I found a seat, and the boat

stabilised. “Let it go,” I murmured. “We can drift with the current, can’t we?” “There are oars, but yes. Keep down. We’re high under the house.” And I’d already had too many knocks to the head. I leaned forward, going flat. Shardul slipped the knot holding the boat to the pillar with the confidence of a born sailor, and we began to move. In which direction, I didn’t know. Didn’t matter—we were out of our prison, and the boat had given our chances of surviving a significant boost. We cleared the house, and found it was drizzling. There were no lights anywhere, our torch all we had to avoid any obstacles such as trees and house supports. “Which way should we go?” Shardul asked. “With the current. If we hit the river, we can head to Verzet. If we’re going inland, we’ll have to take our chance. If you spot a light, head towards it. Chances are it’ll be the local police station.” Shardul looked like he knew what he was doing with the oars, and since I didn’t have a clue, I let him take charge of them. He let the current do the work, using the oars only for guidance, and a couple of times to push the boat away from an obstruction. The rain increased, which made us less visible, but also made our progress miserable and cold. The torch was close to useless in these conditions, Shardul having to wait until we hit something before he knew to push the boat clear. We were moving at a walking pace, and at least we were now well clear of the building we’d been held in. It was impossible to otherwise judge how far we had travelled, or the direction, but I thought we had left the original settlement long since. I had only a vague idea how many were situated on the flood plain, though. Jyoti’s relatives lived in one and I knew there were more, but that was it. “Javen, can you see that?” I wiped my eyes. “That light? Can we get there?” The light was high up, like it was on raised ground, and I hoped that might mean a police station, or possibly a clinic. “Yes, but what if they’re friendly with Dandak?” I considered. He had a point, but we were wet, cold, and in my case, injured. I didn’t know how long it was until daylight, and once the sun came up, we’d be sitting targets. “We have to risk it, I think.” “All right.” He dipped the oars and began to row with a will. The light looked deceptively close, the rain and water distorting perception. However long Shardul rowed, we seemed to come no closer, and I wondered if it was all an optical

illusion, until suddenly we had bumped up against a bank. Another boat close by was tethered at a small mooring pier. We tied ours to the mooring, and pushed the boat under the pier to keep it hidden. “That doesn’t look like a police station,” Shardul said. I blinked away the rain and stared up at the building. “It’s a clinic.” “Yes, I see now. Safe?” “You tell me, Shardul. They’re your people.” He hesitated. “Chances are fair.” “Good enough for me. Help me up the stairs, will you?” He gripped my arm and together we made it up the slippery steps. I was pretty much done now. Even if this place turned out to be Dandak’s centre of operations, I almost couldn’t care, I was so cold and sore, and sick. I wouldn’t risk it on Shardul’s behalf, but for my own, I didn’t have anything else to pull out. The sign on the clinic door said the place was closed, but for emergencies, we could go to the doctor’s home behind it, so we stumbled along the unlit path, and banged on the door of the house. No response. I slid down the wall I was leaning on. “Leave me,” I said. “Take the boat. I can wait here until morning.” “Not in this lifetime, Javen Ythen.” Even through the concussion fog, I registered he was really pissed. He bashed the door again. “Wake up!” “Shhh!” He shot me a look, and raised his hand to hit the door. It opened before he could make contact. “No need for violence, young man.” I stared at the old guy in the doorway, and grinned. “Doc Nihar. Long time no see.”

Chapter 9 “Do I know you, son?” Shardul helped me stand. “Yes, you do. I’m Javen Ythen,” I said, throwing caution to the winds. “We met a few years ago over the suicide of Sapna Aditi Janak.” “I remember Sapna’s death and Sri Ythen quite well, young man, and I never forget a face. That’s not Javen Ythen’s face.” “I know. It’s complicated, doc.” “Can we come in, sir?” Shardul said. “Javen’s hurt, and we’re both very cold.” The doc frowned at us, but I sensed no fear. “Yes, yes, if you were going to murder me, I suppose you would have done it already.” He took us into a cosy living room, and told us to strip. He handed Shardul two blankets, and pointed at me. “Sit down before you fall down. You...what’s your name?” “Shardul, Nihar-ji.” “Well, Shardul, there are towels in the closet along the hall. Dry him off, then yourself. Don’t wander around.” “No, we won’t. But, Nihar-ji, no one can know we’re here. It’s a matter of life and death.” “Hmmm. Maybe so. Let me get some hot food and drink for you both, and then you can tell me why Javen Ythen is wearing someone else’s face.” I’d collapsed onto an armchair while he was ordering Shardul about, and concentrated on warming up. The blanket was thick, but I wasn’t generating enough heat to make it worth having yet. Shardul returned with a towel wound nattily around his head, and more towels in a pile in his hands. He knelt and set to drying my naked body off, as dispassionately as he had the night before. “Why do I never get to enjoy this?” I muttered. “Hush. Do you trust him?” I roused a little and realised he was talking about the doctor. “Yeah. He’s good people. Met on that case I did for Jyoti. The doc, the local cop, couple of farmers around here, I’d trust. The rest, no idea.” “The people here will be closely related, and interconnected. We have to assume any of them may betray us out of loyalty to their family or connections.” “But not the doc. He’s straight.”

“I believe you.” “We have to tell him the truth. We need his help.” “Agreed.” His manner in drying me off was too brusque to be erotic, but I was too cold to care. Dry now, and with a towel around my head, I felt closer to human, though still exhausted and desperately wanting to sleep. I didn’t watch him quickly dry off, because I didn’t need the temptation. By the time Doc Nihar returned, Shardul was wrapped in towels and a blanket, managing, who knew how, to look almost as dapper as he did in his regular clothes. The doc set down his tray. “Feeling better, gentlemen? Shardul, you get some of this chai and soup down you. I need to look at this fellow’s face. One of you can explain while I work.” “You,” I said, pointing at Shardul. I was out of brain for explanations. The doctor worked quietly as he painfully probed my cheek and the other injuries. Shardul recounted events and the lead up to our kidnapping as only he could—concisely, dryly and undramatically. Doc Nihar listened at first sceptically, but finally accepting the truth of what Shardul told him. “You’re that lawyer from Hegal, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on news reports. Don’t think you’d lie about something like this, risk your reputation. I can see the cheek implant too, so that checks out. Javen, what I don’t know is if the real bone underneath is damaged. I need a scan.” “Can it wait? I’m done in.” “Sure it can.” He kindly brought a mug of chai and another of soup to me, and watched as I devoured both. I hadn’t eaten in over a day, and though my stomach protested a little, I told it to shut up. I needed the food, and the warmth. He injected me with antibiotics and a mild pain reliever, and once I’d finished eating, he numbed, cleaned and redressed the cheek injury. “You’ll need that sorted out if you don’t want it to scar, but it should heal up all right. Make sure you have it checked by your own doctor when you get home.” Satisfied I wasn’t going to die there, he turned to Shardul. “Shardul-ji, I’m going to set you to nurse him. Make sure he eats, keeps warm, gets some sleep. I can’t do anything for your concussion, Javen, except prescribe rest for a few days.” “We can’t stay that long. We have to get out of here, and we really daren’t let anyone

in this area find us.” He grunted. “I figured. Never heard of this Dandak fellow, but he sounds like nasty work. Any idea where that storeroom was?” “We drifted for at least an hour, possibly more,” Shardul said. “But I have no idea how fast we travelled. We could have even come from within this settlement.” “Can’t see folk around here treating with that kind, but I’ve been wrong before. All right. You can have my daughters’ room, top of the stairs. Bathroom opposite. Stay out of sight if anyone comes here for help. Shardul, in the cupboard next to the linen closet, you’ll find some old clothes I keep for patients staying in the clinic. I think there’s a couple of pairs of pyjamas that should fit. You boys get some rest tonight, and in the morning, we’ll figure out what to do with you.” “The boat. It’ll lead—” Doc Nihar held up his hand to quiet Shardul. “Ahead of you. I’ll set it free and it can drift away. I won’t tell a soul, I swear.” He touched Shardul’s shoulder. “You look as worn out as he does. Go up to the bedroom, first on the right. Get some rest. I’m across the hall if you need anything.” He disappeared to attend to the boat. Shardul found the old clothes, and helped me dress. The soft dry cloth was wonderful against my chilled skin, but Shardul handling me felt better. Yes, I was shameless and desperate. I blamed the head injury. The stairs were almost too much. My legs had turned to jelly and I just couldn’t. “Maybe I could sleep down here,” I said despairingly. “Don’t be silly. Here.” He put my less sore arm around his neck, and his arm solidly around my waist. “Not far now, after everything else.” He carried me. I’d like to pretend I did some of the work, but the truth was, he carried me up those bloody stairs, and how, I didn’t know because he was as wrecked as me. When we reached the top, I groaned in relief. “Shardul, I love you. I want to marry you and have a dozen of your beautiful red-haired children.” He chuckled. “And wouldn’t that delight our esteemed governor. This is the room, I think.” This was a modern house by the standards of Demultan Flats, and even had electric lighting. But the room we entered was old and drab, clearly unused in some time, and decorated in dull patterns and colours. Two beds stood there, calling me to them. Shardul helped me to the nearest one, and shoved me carefully under the covers. “I’m dead and gone to your heaven.”

“We don’t believe in heaven, foolish guko.” He laid his hand on my forehead. “You feel a little warm.” “I still feel cold.” I pulled the blankets tight around me. “Was nice last night,” I mumbled. He hesitated. “I...could join you if you prefer it.” “Not fair on you.” “You overestimate your attractiveness, Javen. I...would feel better if I was close at hand.” I shoved over, and patted the bed. “Come on.” He turned out the light and slid gracefully in beside me. I sighed as his warmth settled against me. “I could get used to this,” I said, without thinking. He went quiet and I realised my mistake. “Sorry. I misspoke.” “No, it’s all right. I, too, could get used to this.” He inhaled. “I have so many regrets over that night.” “You don’t need to. I don’t hold it against you.” “I know. That makes it worse for me. I am a very great coward, and ashamed.” I put my arm across him and tugged him close. “None of that. You’re not, and I’m only alive because of you. This isn’t the time to get into it anyway. Get some sleep.” So softly that I thought I’d imagined it, his lips brushed my jaw. “Geurili, Javen.” Stunned into silence, I couldn't return the wish. He tucked himself tight against me, and I stroked his back, hoping it would convey what I wanted to say. What did his gesture mean? What did he want it to mean? I felt his tenderness and concern, but more than that? My empathy was sod all use where Shardul was concerned. We had to talk. One day, we might even have time to. Goodnight, Shardul love. I might never say that out loud. We had bigger problems than that right now. ~~~~~~~~ I woke to find Shardul holding me tight, his face almost nose to nose with mine. I pulled back to look at him, and the slight movement woke him. I found myself staring into those ever-brilliant blue eyes. “Sanity, I love you,” I whispered. He kissed me. Not the gentle buss of the night before, but something more forceful, unequivocal. The feel of him warmed me, but not as much as the sweet affection coming off him like a glow. I cupped his face, wondering how I could get this lucky in this crappy

situation, and smiled. But then, like the dropping of a castle gate, everything slammed shut—his emotions, his kiss, his expression. He pulled away with a jerk. “I’m sorry.” He got out of bed, and found the blanket he’d used last night, wrapping himself in it like woolly armour. “Shardul, it’s okay.” “I’ll see if I can find the doctor. It’s late, and I’m sure you’re hungry.” He rushed out, leaving me open-mouthed and cold inside. What the fuck just happened? Maybe he thought I was someone else. Maybe he’d forgotten what colour I was. Maybe he’d had a brain spasm and then remembered who he was with. None of these possibilities made me feel any better. I had no reason to get up, and no wish to. I pulled the blankets over my head and wished for a fatal illness or something. I was so fucking tired of wanting what I couldn’t have, and never being able to stop wanting it. Someone came into the room a few minutes later. I almost hoped it was Dandak so he could shoot me. “Javen?” The doc. “I’m awake,” I said, pulling the covers down. “Everything all right?” “All quiet. Your Shardul is showering. I wanted to see how you were. How’s the headache? Any vision problems?” He did his tests on my sight, and had me stand to check my balance. “No sign of a brain bleed at least. I’d be happier if you could stay for a few days, and I want to do that scan this morning.” “I’m fine with the scan,” I said, sitting on the bed, “but we have to get back to the city. It’s not safe here for us, and if we stay, you’re at risk.” “I’ll be safe, young man. No one would dare lay a finger on me. Besides, the wet season is generally quiet, unless there are babies due, which there aren’t. It’s when I catch up on the latest medical discoveries.” He sat on the bed next to me. “Any ideas how we can get you out of here?” “The problem is that someone leaked my identity to Dandak, and that can only be someone inside the security forces. So my contacts there are out, but my friends and family will be watched. Is Constable Girilal still around?” “No, unfortunately. He was promoted and moved to the station at Jirnin Rocks. The

new fellow’s a bit of a stickler for the rules. If I tell him about you, he’ll be bleating it to the Hegal force in ten minutes.” “Damn. If we could just get to the maglev port....” “Give me some time to think about it. I might be able to find you some transport. You really shouldn’t leave today. They’ll be looking in all the obvious places.” “You’ve given this some thought.” He grinned. “I’ve read a crime book or two in my time. You and Shardul should lie low in the house, rest, get your breath back. If I have to deal with a patient, then they stay in the clinic.” “No medic? No house keeper?” “Only need the medic for patients, and I don’t have any, officially. No housekeeper in the wet season. I mostly shift for myself. Have done for a long time.” He was a lonely widower and probably welcomed our company, however strange and however brief. A day, even two, might be wise, but no longer, even for his sake. He gestured towards the other bed, very obviously unslept in. “Didn’t realise you fellows were together like that.” “We're not.” He raised his eyebrows at my forceful tone. “I was cold and he helped warm me up. He’s Nihan, and hates Kelons. However I look now, I still am one.” “Well, that’s a shame. Sorry to put my foot in it.” He patted my knee. “Feel up to breakfast?” My stomach growled, and he laughed. “I could eat. A shower would be nice first.” Shardul returned at that moment, and avoided my eyes. “I feel much better for that.” Doc Nihar grinned. “Good. If you want to help Javen—” “I’m fine,” I said, as Shardul opened his mouth to reply. “Why don’t you help Doc Nihar with breakfast while I clean up?” “Are you sure?” the doc asked. “You were a little unsteady before.” “I’m fine,” I repeated. “I’ll shower and come straight back in here.” “As you wish,” Shardul said, still not looking directly at me. “Nihar-ji, I would be glad to help.” “All right.” The doc gave us both a puzzled look, and I sensed his confusion at the apparent sudden hostility. “Take it slow, Javen. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m coming in.”

“Fair enough.” “There is a clean towel in there for you,” Shardul said, carefully stepping out of my path so we couldn’t accidentally touch. Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, Shardul-ji? What had I done to bring this on? Telling him how I felt wasn’t a crime, surely? And he already knew, or should have. I should never have agreed to this mad scheme in the first place. It was hard on Shardul, hard on me, and had exposed him to possibly fatal danger. The fact that someone in the security forces had had a hand in that exposure made it even more inexcusable. The water washed away a little of my headache, but not the dull depression and sense of failure, both professional and personal. We had achieved nothing by making contact with Dandak and had probably made the security situation worse. As for the situation between Shardul and me...that was nothing but a disaster too. What I wouldn’t have given to be able to talk to Yashi or Tara right now. Or even Kirin. Though talking to Kirin about Shardul was a refined form of masochism I tried to avoid. The water was now cool, and since I’d had enough of being cold, I stepped out and dried off. The mirror revealed an unfamiliar face covered in gruesome bruising down the left side, though a neat dressing covered the worst injury. I hoped the doc had something I could use to hide all this, or I’d be scaring people when I went out in public again. “I’m out and okay,” I shouted down the stairs, and heard a faint “Thank you” in response. The effort of showering had taken more out of me than I liked and the bed was inviting. It was still warm from my—our—bodies. I couldn’t smell Shardul, but I couldn’t forget how it had felt to lie next to him, to kiss him. Damn him for that, giving me a taste of what I could never have for real. I forced my mind onto the problem of how we could get out of here. I had to assume all my friends and relations were monitored, as was my real account. Same for Shardul, I guessed. We might just have to risk it. I wanted to keep under the scanners until I found out how deep the rot went. Shardul came in a little while later with a tray of food. I sat up. “Can you get a message to Kirin without it obviously coming from you or me?” I kept my tone entirely businesslike. “I think so. You think we’re under surveillance?” “I think our escape will have upset a few people and until I work out who told Dandak who I am, I want to exercise maximum caution.”

“We’ll need help.” “We’ll have it.” He nodded, setting the tray down. “The doctor believes he can get us to the maglev station. There’s a farmer he says you know—Nikhil?” Jyoti’s cousin’s widower. “Yeah, I’d trust him. But he won’t recognise me, and I don’t want him to know who I am. He’s not udawatha, by the way. He’s had a rough time at the hands of your people.” “Ah. Nihar-ji will try to persuade him, I suspect. And then we will need a way to get from the maglev port to Hegal. You want Sri Nel to help?” “I want Kirin to help, yes. Cursed insanity, Shardul, you don’t want me. Don’t be snotty about someone who once did.” He straightened. “I’m not...I.... Please, eat up. You need the strength.” I rolled my eyes and picked up some of the upma on my fork. I concentrated on eating, determined not to let him get to me. I thought he’d leave, but I heard the other bed shift slightly. He must have sat down. His choice. The food was tasty, filling and wonderfully warm. I felt closer to human now, though I intended to follow Doc Nihar’s advice and rest as much as I could. I jumped a little when Shardul spoke after long minutes of awkward silence. “Javen, I told you I have regrets over that night. I said hurtful things to someone I esteem very highly, and can’t offer any reparation for that hurt. It’s a sin that weighs on my soul very heavily.” “Did you mean what you said?” I said, poking at the upma and not looking at him. “That I’m the wrong colour? That you don’t want me?” No reply. I pursed my lips and pretended to be fascinated by the chai in my mug. I knew I’d said we needed to talk, but now we were, I didn’t think it was such a great idea. “Just forget I—” “No, I didn’t mean it. Not all of it. You are the wrong colour—” I sneered. “And you call my kind racist.” “Please, let me finish. My association with a Kelon and guko as a friend has caused many of my people significant unease. Were that relationship to...intensify...I would have to consider that. I haven’t yet had the courage to do so. I am a coward. I told you.” “You want it to intensify?” He stared at me. “You know the answer to that.”

“I don’t. I can’t read you. Why can’t I read you?” He shifted and for the first time, actually looked guilty instead of just miserable. “Having an empath as a close relative is a mixed blessing, as you can imagine. When I was younger, and being gifted academically, a lot of hopes were vested in me—still are. I was under extreme pressure to be the perfect child, the perfect son, the perfect student.” “Same for me and Yashi, but we could share the burden.” “I couldn’t. My sisters are also bright, but much younger. In my early teens, my mother had health problems and needed assistance looking after us, so I went to stay with my aunt Roshni for nearly a year while my mother recovered. But even though Roshni-ji was, and is, very kind and wise, I felt under constant surveillance, an intolerable strain in addition to the expectations upon me. It led to...a regrettable period of rebellion.” “Yeah? I can’t really see you as a rebel.” He smiled briefly. “You’d be surprised. Fortunately, she realised what was behind it, and began to teach me some meditative techniques and mental control which would allow me to hide, as it were, from someone with her talent. I became quite adept, but as I grew older and more confident, I found her ability less troublesome, and now I rarely bother to hide from her.” “But I’m different.” “Yes. As I realised your feelings...when I understood the danger I was in...I revived my earlier skill.” “You’re hiding from me?” “As I said, I’m a coward. But not so much of a coward that I would reject you as Sri Nel did, just to avoid dealing with your empathy.” “Not everyone has a helpful aunt who can teach them how to trick us, Shardul. I wish you’d knock it off. It feels weird.” He shook his head. “Trust me, it would be far worse to be overwhelmed by all I feel towards you. The emotions are not always positive.” “No kidding. First time I met you, you gave me a migraine because you hated me so much. And you knew what you were doing.” He bowed a little. “I confess I did. It was low of me.” “It was really shitty.” “Yes, it was. Javen, I’m not indifferent to you. Far from it. You know this, surely.” “Say it out loud, Shardul.”

He actually rocked a little back and forth with stress. “I can’t. Not yet. Maybe never. But I don’t hate you, or despise you, and your race doesn’t affect my feelings, only my actions. Can that be enough until we are out of this situation?” “Are you going to kiss me again and push me away? Because you’re killing me. It’s too much, on top of everything else right now.” Despite my determination to stay calm, I felt tears pushing at my eyelids. I rubbed my face as if I was tired—which I was—and discreetly wiped my eyes at the same time. I didn’t fool him. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I said I was sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I just....” “Get tired of being strong and selfless?” “Yes.” “Me too. When we get past all this, how about we book a week off so we can be weak and selfish and sort this out?” His unguarded pleasure, more than his beautiful smile, made his answer sweet as honey. “I’ll find the time if you find the place.” “Deal. So can we stop skulking around each other now?” “Yes, please do let’s stop. How do you feel?” “Better. Great food.” “He’s a good cook. I suppose he’s had to learn.” My appetite wasn’t up to Doc Nihar’s generosity. Shardul pinched the rest of the upma while I sipped the chai and wondered if I could ask for something to deal with the lingering headache. Maybe more rest would be better. I set the mug down on the tray. “Think I’ll try and catch some more kip. Is Nikhil coming over or what?” “Later, if Nihar-ji can persuade him. I’ll make contact with my people discreetly. Do you want Kirin to call here?” “Sanity, no. It’ll all have to be indirect. And don’t mention my name to anyone, even him, okay? It’ll send a red flag up however we’re being watched.” “Understood. I thought I would try to sketch Dandak. Perhaps Nihar-ji well recognise him.” “Worth a try. I doubt he was using his real name. It’s going to be a boring day for you.” “Nihar-ji has an excellent library, and says I can use his account to research.” He lifted

the tray. “Will you be all right if I’m downstairs?” I waved him away. “I’m fine. Just have a bastard of a headache but that’s normal. I’ll call if I need anything.” “Fine.” But then he set the tray down, leaned in, and gently kissed my forehead, before leaning his against mine. “I missed you,” he murmured. I cupped his cheek, and stroked it with my thumb. “Me too. Can we not do that shit again?” “I will do my best to avoid it. Rest, Javen.” He kissed me again, and took the tray away. Even the headache couldn’t kill my good mood after that.

Chapter 10 They let me sleep the day away, apart from the doctor bringing up the portable scan unit to confirm what he already thought, which was that I didn’t have a more serious brain injury. He redressed the cheek injury and warned me again to make sure I had someone look at it in Hegal. It was the least of my concerns though, because we had to get back to Hegal before I could seek any medical advice there. Shardul popped in and out a few times, bringing chai, and checking on me. Nice to have someone who would, especially when it was him. I gathered he and the doc had hit it off, and Shardul had been mining the doc’s memory to discover who our abductors were. No luck, unfortunately. Nikhil had agreed to take us by boat to his cousin’s house outside the flood zone, and his cousin would drive us to the maglev port. Apparently Doc Nihar’s word was good enough for Nikhil, and he hadn’t asked too many questions about why and who. The doc had come up with a simple way of hiding my injuries and my appearance—he planned to cover me with bandages and put my arm in a fake sling for added authenticity. Shardul would have to rely on a three-day-growth of stubble and covering his hair. If someone was actively looking for us, it wouldn’t fool them, but it might deter attention from us as a distinctive couple, at least. One of the few discussions I’d been involved in was exactly when we should leave. Nightfall would give us cover, but look suspicious, while daytime would be more normal but expose us to more curiosity. In the end, we decided on the morning. Doc Nihar had only told Nikhil we were two travellers who’d been caught out by the heavy rain, and needed help going south. Shardul had made contact circuitously with Kirin, who would pick us up at the other end of the maglev line. Kirin had transferred funds in the same roundabout fashion for the doc to give us a prepaid, anonymous paycard which we could use to buy tickets without being traced. Then, I figured, we’d be safe. A lot would depend on whether Kirin would help us further, and if my team agreed to get involved. I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask them but without their help, I couldn’t do much but scuttle back to my parents. It would leave Shardul exposed and the traitor untrapped, and that was not acceptable. The headache and dizziness persisted, but I could manage with the help of painkillers pretty well, now I’d had plenty of rest and enough to eat and drink. The two of them insisted on me staying upstairs and in bed, and I didn’t feel like arguing. When Shardul came up to go to bed, he didn’t even ask where I wanted him to sleep. He slid in beside me and put his arms around me. “Just friends, huh,” I whispered.

“I can’t have you relapse into hypothermia, can I?” He spoiled the deadpan delivery with a little chuckle at the end. “Certainly not. Thank you.” He merely tightened his arms around me. Did I dare let myself get used to this? Maybe I had to learn to take what I could get, while I could, and stop worrying about the future. Yeah, right. Not in my nature. But he felt so good next to me. Over breakfast, Doc Nihar lectured me about definitely not exerting myself for a week or so, and generally fussed. When we finished eating, he had fun dressing me up like the victim of some horrendous bomb blast, covering the most bruised eye and side of my face, and all my hair with bandages, wrapping my left hand and putting it in a sling. “How does he look?” he asked Shardul. “Pitiable.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and the doc laughed. “Exactly what I was after. You better cover up too, Shardul. Nikhil should be here soon.” We wore the most non-descript clothes the doc had on hand, and with his hair covered and clothes deliberately dishevelled, Shardul looked almost ordinary. Almost. Nothing could hide the intelligence in his eyes, at least not from me. The doc was satisfied. “It’s raining so you’ll have a perfect excuse to keep under cover.” “You’re sure Sri Nikhil won’t mention us to the police here, or other people?” Shardul asked. “He’s no love for the police or the new constable, and he stays clear of most folk. Thought he might change when he married again, but his wife’s from out of the area, and they keep to themselves.” “He married again? Good for him. Children?” “One on the way, end of the year. We talk most weeks. Still grieves for the lass he lost. He took a long time to get past it.” “He would,” I said. I hoped his new relationship went sweeter than the first. Twenty minutes later, Nikhil came into the house, clearly a regular enough visitor he didn’t need to knock. He acknowledged the doc with a nod, looked in sharp assessment at the two of us, but passed over my features without a glimmer of recognition. “You two ready?” “Yes, Sri Nikhil,” Shardul said politely, hoisting the sack of food and water the doc had given us. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem. You going to be okay in a boat?” He peered at me. I nodded, and Shardul answered for me, assuring Nikhil I’d be fine. He grunted and indicated we should follow, tipping his cap at the doc. It was pelting down, so we huddled under the canvas shelter at the front of the boat, while Nikhil, in oilskins, managed the little boat’s engine, unconcerned by the pelting rain. It gave us the perfect reason not to talk, but I doubted he wanted to. Shardul was obviously Nihani and assumed to be udawatha, and so no friend to Nikhil or his new family. I wondered that he’d not moved away as he’d thought to do, but maybe he couldn’t bear to leave the area where his beloved first wife was buried. Or maybe he’d not been able to afford it, simple as that. It took an hour or so to reach the jetty on the river near Nikhil’s cousin’s house. He left us in a wooden shelter while he walked to his cousin’s place, and the two of them returned in an elderly truck that barely looked capable of driving a kilometre, let alone eighty to the maglev port. “Talib’ll sort you out now,” Nikhil said. “Thank you for the ride. Blessings on you and your family,” Shardul said. “Keep your damn blessings,” he snapped. “Go on, I haven’t got all day.” “Good luck,” I said as I passed him. “With everything.” He scowled at me. Never mind. I’d send Doc Nihar a gift for the new baby when I could reoccupy my old identity, and give him permission to tell Nikhil who we were. Right now, anonymity was worth a small show of bad temper. Talib was chattier than his cousin, but fortunately he didn’t expect much in the way of reply except the odd “uh huh” and “yes”, which Shardul supplied. I kept quiet in the back, and tried to doze, though the old vehicle’s suspension and the lousy roads made that damn difficult. An hour and a half later we bought our tickets at the maglev port, and ate the doc’s chapatis while we waited for the next departure. Shardul made me take another pill, and forbade me to move an unnecessary step. “I’m not dying.” “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Besides, someone so seriously injured should look helpless, don’t you think?” “Point.” He smirked, and I refrained from punching him. He was in too good a mood considering the mess we were in. But then, so was I.

Once on the maglev we could really relax. The carriage was half empty, and no one sat close enough to us to overhear our conversation. No one would start any shit here, not with the security and cameras on board. Maybe Dandak wasn’t looking for us, but that wasn’t likely. More likely was that he had no idea where the hell we’d gone and, with the boat we’d pinched now in police custody, no clues. He could have no way of knowing I had local connections.... “Crap.” “What?” Shardul sat up. “Problem?” “What if Dandak finds out who helped me?” “How would he? Unless Nikhil or his cousin gossips.” “The cousin might. I can’t think of a damn thing I can do to protect the doc or them.” “I can’t see any benefit to him in reprisal. He might discover how we got away, but by then it will be moot.” “Yeah, I guess.” “The doctor understood the risks, Javen. He’s far from being a fool. Calm down. What’s our next step? The captain will be looking for you too.” “Yeah, and I’m more worried about him, until I can work out just how corrupt he is.” “You assume it’s him. It could be the commander, or anyone under his command.” “Reoda’s an old friend of Dad’s and even more conservative. Can’t see him supporting an indigenous uprising. You met him.” “I did,” he said and gave a delicate shudder. “But our people are barely represented in the military and none at high level.” “A real-life ‘Gafur’?” “Hmmm. I doubt it. At least, I doubt I would not have heard rumours.” “Good point. I’m pissed as hell about this, Shardul.” “I assure you, so am I. We should go to your father, I think.” I’d considered it. “Thing is, he’ll have to toss it back to the security forces to investigate, and we have no idea how far this goes. What if I was the target? What if Dad is? I’d like to check a few things out before we do that.” “As you see fit. I trust your judgement.” Did he have any idea how much I loved hearing him saying that? Beloved reason, I had such a crush on him, it was sickening. “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

“Almost everything, and nothing. We need a hideout. Any ideas?” The maglev journey took two hours. We tossed ideas back and forth about where we could hide, but the main difficulty was not being able to use our phone and media accounts without that pinpointing our enquiries and location. “There’s no reason you have to stay in hiding,” I said. “You can just say I was lost in the flood. Then you can get back to work. They have no reason to arrest you.” “And that would stop them, I’m sure. But I could at least communicate with your father and Sri Nel...Kirin...openly.” “You’d have a perfect excuse to be chasing Dandak and that kind of thing too.” He grew thoughtful. I let him mull it over. He’d be exposing himself, but he’d also be protected through that exposure. The more people who knew he was around, the more difficult it would be to whisk him off to some hidden prison. Especially if Dad knew he was back—and what the true situation was. He lifted his head finally. “I think there is merit in this idea. But what will you do?” “Remain missing until I can show my face again. You lost me in the flood, was washed up on Doc Nihar’s doorstep and he helped you get away. All we need is for him and Nikhil, and Nikhil’s cousin, to report one man, not two.” “If we involve him, they can trace us to the maglev port, and the cameras will show us there.” “Okay, so you floated down river, cadged a lift to the port, and used the paycard to buy a ticket. They can’t trace that easily.” “Fortunately, no.” By pure luck, Dandak hadn’t taken our wallets or ID. Luck...or because he already had all the information he wanted about us. We’d made sure there was nothing incriminating in them. “Kirin will help you get your auto back too.” “My auto is the least of my concerns. I’m worried about you.” “Stop, you’re making me all weepy.” “If anything happens to the governor’s son, after all, it would be most uncomfortable for me.” “Sure it would.” We grinned at each other. At our destination, I recognised Kirin’s distinctive auto in the short-term parking lot, and quickly picked him out among the other people waiting on the platform. He waved to Shardul, ignoring me completely as he strode over. “Cursed insanity, Shardul, what’s

happened to you?” “Tell you on the way, Kirin. This is my friend, Gafur Kawildin.” “Nice to meet you,” he said, still oblivious. “Will you be okay in an auto, Gafur? You look pretty banged up.” “I’m fine, thank you for asking.” “Right. Well. Shardul, where am I taking you?” “Your place, and discreetly. I’ll explain on the way.” Shardul considerately waited until Kirin had engaged cruise control before he started. “Kirin, you know how you were told that Javen had gone to Kelon? He didn’t.” “No? Wow. Where is he?” “Right here. This is Javen.” Poor Kirin nearly drove off the road. Shardul had to grab the power stick to stop us crashing. “For pity’s sake, man, be careful.” Kirin stared slack-jawed at me in the rear-view mirror. “Javen? It can’t be. You look nothing like him.” “Kirin, don’t force me to spell out any intimate stuff in front of Shardul. Yes, it’s me, your former lover. Dad can back that up. The important thing is that no one can know where I am.” Shardul told him the rest of it. I felt sorry for my ex. I sensed his utter bewilderment tinged with suspicion, and I couldn’t really prove any of it. Only Shardul’s impeccable reputation—and the fact he spoke nothing but the bare truth—could have convinced Kirin, and it still took almost all the three-hour journey to do so. By then, I was lying flat on the floor in the back of the auto, covered with a rug. Kirin’s dubiousness grew the closer we got to Hegal. He’d never been mixed up in anything remotely illegal or subversive before, and had a pathological horror of being suspected of the smallest crime. And here I was, dragging him into something which could land him in prison without trial, possibly for the rest of his life, though I truly hoped it wouldn’t. I didn’t have any other option. We drove to his house and into the garage without anyone spotting us—at least, we thought so—and now I could sit up properly and shed the bandages, which had started to drive me nuts. Kirin stared at me. “I would never, ever recognise you.” “That’s the point. Kirin, I’m dying for a piss and a cup of chai.” “Of course. The bathroom—” “Is right where it always was. I used to live here, remember?”

Kirin wiped his face. “Of course. I’m sorry, it’s a lot to get used to.” “I know. I’m very grateful you’ve agreed to help.” How paranoid did I have to be? Could Kirin’s house be bugged? Yes. But there was a limit to how many precautions I could take. If Captain Largosen had gone to those lengths, there was no escaping him. I had to go with my gut and assume he hadn’t. While we drank chai and stretched our legs, Kirin heated up some leftover kari. Fortunately he was again living alone, so we didn’t have to explain any of this to a confused lover. He served up the meal, and then sat down to stare at me. “You have to go to your father. This is bigger than any of us can handle. More dangerous than we can manage.” “I will, but quietly. First, I need somewhere to hide. Somewhere I can be contacted and search for information, without using my own account. Any ideas?” He sighed. “Javen, you know I love you, but do you have any idea what you’re asking?” “Yes, I do. Can you help? “You could stay here, because it’s totally private, and use my account. So far as anyone’s concerned, it would be me logged on. But then I’m up to my neck in this, and sanity, I don’t want to tangle with these people.” “Don’t worry, Sri Nel,” Shardul said coolly. “I will make sure Javen is safely accommodated, if you abandon him.” I held my breath. Kirin gave Shardul a shocked look. “I’d never—” “You did before. Javen, I think it would be best not to rely on him, truthfully.” “Shardul, it’s not—” “Are you implying I’d betray Javen?” “Did I imply? I thought I’d been quite clear.” The two of them glared daggers at each other. I clapped my hands. “Knock it off. Kirin, it’s your choice. I have alternatives, but what you suggested sounded perfect. Shardul, you can’t force someone into this.” “Why should the security of your people be on your head alone, Javen? Sri Nel has a comfortable life he hasn’t had to risk a thing for.” I wished I was close enough to whack him. “Stop it, you’re not being fair.” “Yes, he is.” Kirin lowered his eyes. “He’s absolutely right. I did let you down badly, and now’s my chance to make amends.”

“You don’t have to,” I snapped. “This isn’t about our relationship.” “Yes, it is. What kind of friend would I be to let you go through this on your own?” “I’m not. I have Shardul.” The silence that followed my words was almost visible, a cold, solid presence between the three of us. Kirin broke it first. “Maybe so. But you also have me. You always have, you always will, even if we’re no longer lovers. You’re staying here. Shardul?” “I’ll return to my own home, apparently shocked and horrified at Javen’s disappearance and all that happened. You and I will be in contact, sharing our grief.” He even managed not to sound too sarcastic. “Actually, we need to keep Kirin out of it as much as we can, so officially, he can’t know I’m missing. He helped you alone, and supposedly believes I’m on Kelon, okay?” “Okay. Okay. Right.” Kirin ran his hand through his hair. He was scared, and I didn’t blame him. “Shardul, maybe it would be better to go with one of your friends—” “No.” Kirin’s sharp response made us both look at him in surprise. “The indigenous community are under too much scrutiny. Too much pressure. If the army finds you with them, there’ll be hell to pay, mass arrests, the lot. They’ve suffered too much already. I’m well connected. I can lawyer my way out of any charges. Buy my way if I have to. The risk is less for me, and it’s right I should take it. You’ll stay at my property, use my account, and that’s final.” Shardul raised an eyebrow, then bowed his head. “It’s appreciated, Kirin. Very much.” And that was the nicest thing Shardul had ever said to my ex. ~~~~~~~~ Shardul didn’t hang around much longer. The sooner he returned, the more plausible his cover story would seem, and to be honest, he and Kirin were getting on each other’s nerves, even though they tried to behave. Shardul was naturally anxious about his family and friends, and possibly enquiries from the security forces putting added stress on them. Now he knew I was in safe hands—however rude he was about the owner of the hands—he was less concerned on my behalf. But as he left, he hugged me tight. “I am ready to help if you need anything.” “I know. You’ve already done a lot.” “And yet there is much to do.” He kissed me on the lips, which made my heart flutter and Kirin’s eyes go round. “Be careful.”

“You too.” At Kirin’s invitation, I showered and changed while he dropped Shardul off. I itched to call Dad, but the message would have to come from Shardul or Kirin. Next would be making contact with my team, and that would require a bit of finesse. Captain Largosen had gone to a lot of trouble to isolate me from my friends and family, and now I had to wonder if that had been the primary objective all along. Kirin was back in under an hour. By then I’d raided his medical kit to redress my cheek, and taken another painkiller. As hideouts went, this was luxurious—and familiar. Provided no one suspected I might be here, I could stay out of sight of neighbours and passersby for pretty much as long as I wanted. But if I was found in Kirin’s house, his connections—and mine—might not be enough to save him, unless I got to the bottom of this mess. He smiled uneasily as he came in. “How are you feeling? You know you really should see a doctor.” “Don’t have that option. You know enough medical stuff to tell me if I’m dying.” “Not sure I would rely on me in your situation.” He swallowed, no doubt realising how that sounded. “Uh, so you and Shardul...?” “Are friends. More has to wait.” “Right. Still, I thought it was all over and done between you. Glad to see it’s not.” “Are you? Really?” He drew himself up. “Of course. I know how you feel about him.” “And how he feels about you.” “Can’t be helped. I want you to be happy.” “Thank you, and thanks for this.” He threw himself into a chair. “So, what happens now?” “Shardul reveals himself to the captain, and we duck and cover. Meanwhile, I’m hoping my team will do a bit of snooping for me.” “Risky for them.” “Yeah. None of this is going to be easy, and the worst of it is I won’t be able to do much directly. Kirin, you can be my go-between, not just with Shardul, but with Mum and Dad, and my people.” He set his jaw. “Whatever you need. Bad enough what happened to Yashi, but then to drag you into this and nearly get you killed...it’s barbaric. These are the people who are

supposed to be protecting us.” “Yes. So what exactly do they have to gain by spoiling a set up they created?” “One hand not knowing what the other is doing?” “Or some internal political game. If I could identify Dandak, we’d have somewhere to start. I need access to the facial recognition database but I can’t do that as Gafur Kawildin. Madan could do it.” “I’ll call on him tomorrow.” “Let Shardul do that. You have to act as an innocent, ignorant party as long as possible.” He rubbed his eyes. “Have to think about the curfew on their people too. I’m so glad Tara and the children are safe and away. Every day brings something worse than the last.” “And yet we have to act as if it won’t.” “I suppose. I’m going to cook.” “And I’ll watch.” “Like old times, eh?” He winced. “Beloved reason, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just so odd having you here.” It was. But it was also okay. “You’re doing me a favour, and we’ve moved on, Kirin. My heart’s moved on.” “To him. That’s why he hates me.” He laughed. “I should have realised it. It’s obvious now. He’s been jealous for years.” Unlikely. Though the idea of Shardul being jealous of Kirin was strangely flattering. Four years ago, being in this house—being around Kirin, watching him doing familiar domestic stuff, the way I used to on my evenings off, before we’d go to bed and make love —would have been torture. Now it didn’t bother me at all. Even his embarrassed reaction every so often as he remembered my empathy, didn’t slice me as it once would have done. I had bigger things to worry about. Better things too. I’d always love Kirin, but I would never be in love with him again. It was nice. Relaxing. I could just enjoy him as a friend, and a damn good cook to boot. “The way you described things,” he said, as we relaxed over a glass of wine after the meal, “it sounded like Dandak expected someone to try and infiltrate his group, but wasn’t sure when or who.” “Or it was an act for his men, and Sanjeev. I can’t figure it out. If I knew which one of them had the connection to the mole....”

“Had to be him. Nothing else makes sense.” “Yeah.” “You need the indigenous community to help you on this. How can your father find the connection? He hasn’t got any Nihani employees.” “And the Nihan don’t trust him completely anyway. But like you said, it puts them at risk.” “Shardul said they didn’t want the terrorists among them.” “That’s why he agreed to help.” But also for me, I thought. Captain Largosen had used Shardul’s feelings knowingly and ruthlessly against him. Was the target me—or the Nihan’s most prominent lawyer and a leading fighter for indigenous rights? But that was idiotic. If someone wanted Shardul out of the way, there were at least a dozen ways to kill someone and make it look like an accident. Same with me—or Dad. “I’m out of my depth,” I murmured. He leaned forward. “You can’t do this on your own, but a lot of people want to help. You can do this.” “Kirin, three hours ago you were pissing your pants over being involved at all.” “Well, now I am involved. Too late to back out now. So now I want the mystery solved, and you to get your life back. And for Shardul to stop wishing me to drop dead because he’s got you.” “So it’s Shardul you want to impress.” He lifted his glass. “I do have a thing for pretty indigenous men. And cops.” “I’d have said you have no chance, but Shardul hated me when we met, so...just keep your damn hands off.” He smirked. “No chance of a threesome?” “Kirin, behave.” ~~~~~~~~ Left alone the next day, I had little to do but catch up on the news—still depressing— and rest as numerous people insisted I should. I was dozing on the bed in the spare room when a knock on the doorjamb had me vaulting out of bed and looking for a weapon I didn’t at that point possess. The young Nihani woman standing there watched my antics calmly and with no small amount of amusement. I stared up at her from the floor. “Uh...who are you?”

“Sri Nel’s cleaner, sir.” I climbed to my feet, glad I’d napped in my clothes. “But he said he was going to cancel you this week.” She smiled. “Yes, sir. But my cousin Shardul suggested he didn’t...for practical reasons. I have something for you from Shardul.” She held out a datastick, and I took it. “Another cousin, eh? A big family is a blessing.” “Yes, sir. I’ll be here a couple of hours if you have something you want to send to Shardul by return.” That canny bugger. I thanked her, and fired up the small screen in the bedroom. The disk contained a vid message and some other files. I opened the message. “Hello, Javen. I hope my messenger didn’t surprise you.” “You know she did, bastard,” I muttered at his face on the screen. “I contacted the captain yesterday evening, and he insisted on a meeting immediately. I have attached a recording of that for your information. He, er, is unaware of it.” I grinned. Shardul routinely recorded most conversations—saved a lot of aggravation later. “This morning I visited the governor’s residence and managed to have a meeting in private with your father. The captain had already told them you were missing, possibly deceased. I was able to reassure them, and apprise them of the situation in full. They are naturally aware of the need for discretion concerning the truth. They send you their love.” He smiled as he said it. “More urgently, I received a message from Nihar-ji. Your friend Nikhil recognised Dandak from my sketch. Dandak’s real name is Darshan Vaanika Kabir. He comes from Neudul, not far from Jirnin Rocks. Nikhil also tentatively identified the other two men from my description. I took the liberty of contacting Nihar-ji via a discreet route, and telling him what we were doing, and our cover story. He tells me that Nikhil can be trusted completely, and so I authorised Nihar-ji to be frank with him. I imagine you may be concerned by that.” I hissed in a breath. No shit, Shardul. “However, we will need local assistance and contacts, and the doctor and this farmer are well placed to give it. As is Constable Girilal, who is currently stationed in Jirnin Rocks. Jyoti has family in the Flats as you know, and given your history, I believe we could approach them with confidence. I will speak to you first.” Now you’ll speak to me. I sighed. It sounded okay, but I barely knew Nikhil—or Doc Nihar for that matter. Okay, the doc had come through in sterling fashion for us, but Nikhil wasn’t proven. On the other hand, Shardul wasn’t even a little stupid. I had to trust him. I

did trust him. I opened the audio recording. Shardul spoke to me again. “Javen, I’m waiting for Captain Largosen’s driver. I don’t know where he’s holding the meeting, or when I’ll be able to get this to you. Soon, I hope.” A bit of street noise, which cut off, and picked up again with the closing of an auto door. “Sri Shardul, I’m glad you’re safe, but where the hell is Sergeant Ythen?” Shardul truthfully recounted the events from when Sanjeev picked us up to when I was unmasked as a spy. “He named the sergeant that clearly? Cursed insanity. What was Sanjeev’s reaction?” Largosen sounded genuinely angry. “Shock and disbelief. Javen didn’t tell me if he thought it was faked. I didn’t think it was. Dandak was extremely angry with him. Has he returned to Hegal?” “No, and his phone hasn’t been used in the last two days.” Silence for several seconds. “Then what happened?” “Dandak did something to Javen which we believed was designed to disrupt his implants. Prodded his face with some kind of electrical device.” “That fits. We lost the signal for good that evening. It had been patchy all day so I ordered my people to keep watch but not to go in.” “Ah. Well, then we were sedated, and woke later somewhere in the Demultan Flats. Javen recognised the building style and the position over the water.” “He was sure about that?” “We were reasonably confident. We managed to free ourselves and steal a boat from under the storeroom. Unfortunately in the dark, we struck something, the boat overturned, and I lost both it and Javen. I searched for some time, but....” I grinned at the hitch in his voice. Hell of an actor, that man. “Without the boat, and unable to see any landmarks, I let the current take me to the river. I managed to make it ashore. A local allowed me to call a friend of mine, who suggested asking Sri Nel for help, and I arranged to be collected from the maglev, once I’d begged a lift.” “Why didn’t you call me?” Sharp suspicion in the captain’s tone. I held my breath to hear Shardul’s answer. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, except that Javen was adamant that we mustn’t contact the local police. My friend was the first person I thought of, but they couldn’t leave Hegal to

collect me. The curfew, you see. I told Sri Nel my car had been washed away in the flooding while I was visiting a client in the north. He doesn’t like me and didn’t ask too many questions.” “Why would he help you then?” “For Javen’s sake, of course. I told him nothing of the plan, and he’s unaware Javen’s missing. Captain, has he been found?” “No report yet. That’s a big river, and the population sparse. Now we know, we can search, but I can’t offer much hope.” “Damn it. This is your fault!” Oh, nice touch, Shardul. “He knew the risks, Sri Shardul.” “Did he know someone was going to betray him? Did you tell him he might drown? Did you?” “Calm yourself. This isn’t going to help.” “My friend is dead, and it’s your fault. Do I care if this helps? It’s too late!” The rest of the conversation was Shardul raging, the captain flailing helplessly in the face of his anger, and finally telling him that he needed to maintain secrecy at all costs. “I want to speak to his father,” Shardul agreed, apparently bringing himself under control. “He deserves the truth.” “Not until I’ve briefed him. You can speak to him tomorrow, on condition you mention no names or specifics.” “Very well. When this is over, there will be a reckoning. You can’t kill the governor’s son without penalty.” “I didn’t kill him,” the captain snapped. “There appears to have been a leak somewhere, and I intend to find out where. But your role in this is over. Stay down, keep your mouth shut, and report to me immediately if either Sanjeev or Sri Ythen contact you. And do not involve anyone else, especially Sri Nel. We can make things very unpleasant for you.” “You already have, captain.” The captain ordered the driver to take Shardul home, and I heard someone, presumably the captain, leave the auto. The sound cut off, and the next thing on the recording was Shardul speaking. “Javen? I think he accepted my version of events. If I’m arrested in the night, I’ll know otherwise.” He hadn’t been, I guessed, or his cousin would have said. The other file on the stick

was a scan of the sketch he’d made. He must have asked the doc to send it along. I leaned back and thought about what to do. Or more specifically, what I could ask other people to do, since the captain would be watching Kirin now, and Shardul. I recorded a message for Shardul. I needed him to ask Madan to dig up everything he could about Dandak/Darshan and his chums—employment history, criminal records, anything we could access without having to cross the security force’s tripwires. Shardul was right. We needed local contacts, so I asked him to get in touch with Jyoti and do what they could to find out about Darshan and what he’d been up to in the area. He was way too clued up for someone new to this. Where had he come from, and who was propping up his operation? I thought about my friendly rural cop and decided to keep him on hold for now. I wanted to see how far we got with our enquiries before dragging someone else into this. Shardul’s cousin came back an hour or so later. “Thanks for the information. Can you pass this back to him?” She pocketed the datastick. “Yes, sir. Sri Nel wanted me to let you know I come here twice a week.” “Great, that’s helpful.” “And Shardul wanted me to let you know that Sri Nel’s gardener, his grocery delivery driver and his local postal worker are all his cousins too.” I grinned. “Of course they are. Close-knit family, are you?” “Yes, indeed. Sri Nel has a blue statuette in his living room. If that’s in the front window, then....” “I can expect a family visit?” “Yes, sir. If you put the orange vase in the window, we’ll know to stay away.” “Simple and effective. A good plan.” “It was Shardul’s idea, sir. Is there any other message for him?” “Only that I’m glad he’s still out and about, and to wish him good hunting.” “I’ll pass it on. Good day to you, sir.” Families did have their uses. The information from Shardul made me itchy to get out and help. Until I knew who’d done what, and who’d betrayed us, I didn’t dare show my face—or our hand. What happened after that, no one could know. I suspected it would be messy.

Chapter 11 I severely underestimated how effective Shardul’s network of contacts—or ‘family’— would be. Within a day, we’d confirmed the identity of the three suspected terrorists, and the surprising fact that all of them were mining industry employees. All had completely clean criminal records, and not the slightest indication from official sources they were capable of the kind of acts that had turned Hegal into a city of fear. But the official sources were just the start. Bank records? No problem, thanks to a ‘cousin’ with access. Local residents reported on vehicle movements, known associates, suspicious purchases and deliveries, which all helped to build a complex, thorough picture of Darshan Vaanika Kabir and what he and his friends were up to. What we found was surprising, but to my Dad, it was worse. A betrayal of the vilest kind. As if he hadn’t had enough bad news this year. I was a spare wheel in the process, waiting for the regular drop offs and messages, receiving the data along with Shardul’s precise, dry assessments and sending encouragement and the rare, unnecessary suggestion. Madan, under the impression he was working solely to assist Shardul—and glad to do so—had directed the Nihani efforts, suggesting lines of enquiry and tying the threads together. Invariably, Team Nihan was ahead of me. Kirin and I did what we could. Again, it was other people who did the really clever stuff, with one of Kirin’s Nihani technicians, Badal, set the task of extracting the audio recordings from my implants. Kirin secreted me out of the house twice so Badal could take readings and assess the damage Darshan’s nasty little device had done. By the end of the week, Badal announced he’d written the translation code and was ready to do the data extraction, so once again Kirin snuck me out under blankets in the back of his auto down to the lab. I’d hoped Jyoti would be there, as she had the first time we’d done this. Kirin said he’d thought it too risky to do it again. He did have a surprise for me, though, and grinned as I discovered it waiting for me. “Shardul!” As always, his presence, the sheer force of his personality, struck me like the first time. Not so nastily, though. He came over and hugged me, uncaring who was watching. “Are you well? You look worse.” “Just the bruising. I’m fine. Even the headache’s better.” He touched my cheek in an intimate, possessive way that made me ache with need of him. “And this?”

“Healing, but it’s a mess. Time to tidy it up later.” He grunted, but his warm fingers lingered. Kirin cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly. I turned to look at him. “Yes?” “We should hurry. Someone might become suspicious, and Badal is breaking curfew.” “Of course. Sorry, Badal. Let’s do it.” The process took less than ten minutes, and Badal confirmed that the data was good, up to the point where the electronics had been fried. Kirin sent Badal home then, because no one except Shardul and Kirin knew my true identity, and we didn’t want any of our Nihani friends implicated more than they were already. “Essential evidence of Darshan’s intentions,” Shardul said as we listened to the recording of the ill-fated conversation at the farm. “I think we’re ready to move, Javen.” “Now we need my father. I have to make it impossible for Captain Largosen to have this information—or anyone of us—disappear.” “You still don’t know who the mole is,” Kirin said. “No, but I think we know who he’s working for. Either the captain is crooked, or he’s not. If he’s not, Dad can protect him while he finds out the truth. If he’s dirty, Dad can protect us. Kirin, I should move out. No need for you to be implicated.” He swallowed, but the line of his mouth set firm. “No. Damn it, no. My family won’t be crossed. I’m a protector, not a protectee. You need me.” I patted his arm. “Down, boy. You convinced me. Okay—are we waiting for anything else?” “Only to make copies of this,” Shardul said, flicking the datastick holding the audio recording, “and to arrange a meeting with your father in a secure location. The residence, for preference, in a room swept for bugs, and with recording facilities under our control.” “Kirin, can you contact Dad? You should be there, with me, Shardul, Mum, and maybe even the residence’s security manager. He’s good people, ex-force.” “Will do. I can copy this recording at home. We should leave.” “Agreed. Shardul, you’d better go first.” He came closer and took my hands. “Are you ready for this?” “Sanity, yes. I’m sick of being useless.” “You aren’t.” He squeezed my hands and stared into my eyes. “I’ll welcome your real face back.” “That could take some time. Bugs you that much?”

“I’m fond of your previous features. These remind me of...what I don’t remember with fondness.” “Understood. Yes, we’re coming.” I added as Kirin coughed for the third time. Shardul raised an eyebrow at the unsubtle hint, but let my hands go. “See you soon.” I dared to kiss his cheek. “Be safe.” “And you.” He walked away and disappeared around a corner. “You two are disgustingly cute, you realise.” I made a rude gesture at my annoying friend. “Thanks for inviting him.” “You’re welcome. I thought you were probably going a little stir-crazy in the house.” “I was. You’ll call Dad tomorrow?” He looked at his watch. “Yes. And then all hell breaks loose.” He was a lot less confident than he sounded. I took his hand as Shardul had mine, and gripped his fingers. “A good life is worth a few risks.” “I’m a coward, Javen.” “No, you’re not. Neither of you are.” “Neither of...sorry?” “Never mind. Let’s get out of here.” ~~~~~~~~ Two days later, I was in my mother’s office at the residence, hiding behind the same pretty screen I’d used once before for discreet observation. Out front my parents sat with Kirin and Shardul, waiting for the captain. Lieutenant Damen would record every word, and if Captain Largosen tried anything funny, the recording would make its way to the media. Mum and Dad were worried, and I didn’t blame them. The stakes were high, and the players dangerous and used to winning. A knock at the door. “Okay, everyone. Take your cues from me,” Dad said quietly. “Shardul, please cough or clear your throat if you want to take charge of the conversation.” “Yes, sir, I will.” Dad called the visitor in. “Good morning, Captain Largosen. Do please take a seat.” “Thank you, sir. I must say I was surprised at your summons.” I sensed apprehension and no small amount of irritation. “I’m sure. You can probably guess it has something to do with my son’s disappearance. In fact, Sri Shardul has been conducting enquiries and uncovered some very

interesting information concerning the men responsible for what happened to Javen.” The irritation increased sharply. “Sri Shardul was explicitly asked to do no such thing, and in particular, not to discuss this situation with you, or indeed, Sri Nel.” “Maybe, but I outrank you,” Dad said, “and he’s acting directly under my orders and protection. Dandak and the other two men who met with Javen and Shardul have been identified—” “Why wasn’t I told, governor?” Oh yeah, Largosen was cranky. Not detecting any fear or duplicity. So far, he didn’t perceive any personal threat from this news. “Please don’t interrupt, captain. They have been identified, and it appears they are working, officially at least, for someone we are very familiar with. Kaushik Denge.” “I see. That’s not illegal or even suspicious, sir.” “Yes, I know. But the leader of these three men has had some rather large sums deposited into his personal account from another which Sri Shardul’s investigations have identified as belonging to a company owned by Denge. Sums deposited at some rather interesting points. You might like to examine this.” I presumed Dad was showing the captain the correlation in timing between those payments and the attacks on Denge’s estate, in Hegal, and other terrorist actions, including the assassination attempt on the minister. Tellingly, one very large payment had been made on the day of the ill-fated demonstration in Hegal town centre. “Sri Shardul has also received information that Dandak has received deliveries from suppliers of mining explosives, and executives very close to Denge himself.” Now the captain was really confused. “Assuming this information is accurate, what possible benefit would Sri Denge gain from promoting or arranging terrorist activity, sir?” “Well now, that’s something I have a few ideas about. But here’s our problem, captain. I can’t trust you. Someone in your service told Dandak about my son and in enough detail that they had to have known exactly what the plan entailed. Someone in your service is in the pay of Denge or those he works for. That’s why you have been given only the smallest information now, and not before. So we’re at an impasse. I need your help to catch the men who hurt my son, and you need my help to find them.” Shardul coughed. “What the governor is asking, captain, is—how many people knew specifics of the undercover plan, such as the implants and facial surgery, besides yourself? Because one of them is a traitor.” Captain Largosen was really pissed off now. “I assure you I am not. But neither are the people who know about this. I’ve investigated this and no one on my team betrayed your

son.” “Those statements are incapable of reconciliation,” Shardul said coolly. “Try again.” “You have no authority—” “I have,” Dad said. “Answer the question or be arrested, captain. I have more than enough evidence to lock you away for the rest of your life.” “Maybe you do, sir, but I’m telling you the truth.” A pause. Maybe Dad or Shardul made a ‘get the hell on with it’ gesture. “Other than myself...Commander Reoda, of course. You can’t suspect him, surely.” “Go on,” Dad said. “Right.” Now the captain was rattled, but still confused. “The surgeons did the implants and surgery, but had no idea why. Same as the voice coach, the medics and so on.” “Gafur Kawildin too,” Shardul added. “Yes, of course he did. Er, my aide, and the commander’s aide, and two field operatives who tracked the GPS signal.” “Did they know about the identity switch?” Shardul asked. “No. They just knew they were keeping watch on one of our people.” “So five people knew the full story. You, your boss, your two assistants, and Gafur Kawildin. No one else?” A pause. He really was thinking. “No,” he said slowly. “And it’s inconceivable any of them could have helped terrorist action.” “Yet someone did,” Dad said. “Captain, I’ve been a little unfair. We were almost sure you weren’t our traitor before you walked in. Now, I believe we’re completely sure. Is that right?” I stepped out from behind the screen. “Correct, Dad. Hello, captain.” Largosen’s mouth fell open. It was the first time I’d seen him genuinely off-balance. “Sergeant? How...when...this is some kind of trap!” His hand went to his weapon. My hand rested on my own. “Now, now, captain, no need for any of that. This isn’t a trap. Just our way of making sure my father and my family don’t suffer any more nasty surprises.” “How do I know you aren’t the one behind all this, Ythen?” I took an instinctive step towards him before I got my temper under control. Shardul answered for me. “Don’t be ridiculous, captain. Javen came very close to dying at the hands

of Denge’s man, and so did his brother and family.” I tossed the copy of the audio recording at the captain. “Proof there too, if you want. The state of the implants will verify they were damaged by an electrical shock. I’m not your mole, you fool.” My father cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, calm down. Javen, please do join us. Captain, as I was saying before, we were pretty sure you weren’t our traitor. Javen, Shardul and I believe we know who is, but you need to prove it for yourself.” “How?” the captain snapped, forgetting his ‘sirs’—his manners weren’t up to repeated shocks. “Check the political registration and bank accounts of the other four people.” “Follow the money,” I said. “Basics of investigation.” “And if I find nothing?” “You won’t,” Shardul said. “We’ve done it. You need to do it too. And when you do, you get all our data, the names, places, the rest of it.” “If I have it now, I could stop further attacks.” “Yes. But the mole can also alert the people involved. What you don’t know, you can’t leak accidentally.” He didn’t like it. I didn’t care. Certain bastards had been playing deadly games with my family, and his people were part of it. Now we were fighting back, and no snippy little army officer was going to get in my way. ~~~~~~~~ It didn’t take long, and we already knew what Captain Largosen would find, because we’d found it ourselves. Once he looked at the bank accounts, it became obvious to him as it had to us which of five possible suspects had sent Shardul and me to what he’d hoped was our deaths. Commander Reoda was arrested, and the task then became to tease out the links, the players, and the motives. Once again I was sidelined, but I had a good reason. While Shardul, Dad and the now convinced captain traced the lines of the complicated web, I underwent surgery to remove the implants—now vital evidence for the prosecution—and to restore my appearance to what it had been before. That turned out to be more time-consuming and more tiresome than the first time, and I lost a full week to anaesthesia and recovery before I could be released to Kirin’s care for full recuperation. For political reasons, the pretence that I was still on Kelon had to be maintained, so I couldn’t be seen in public, or stay with Mum and

Dad. Kirin didn’t mind, but I pushed his hospitality to the limit with my grouchiness at being so out of the game. “For sanity’s sake, Javen, it’s only for another week and then your ‘return’ will be announced,” he said, after I’d delivered another rant at the media screen. Dad had announced the curfew was over, and his opponents were making the most of the opportunity to criticise him. I wanted to shoot some of them, they annoyed me so much. “Calm down.” “I can’t. I want to be helping Dad, helping the indigenous community. I want to go back to work, damn it.” “Yes, I know. But you’re going to pop something if you keep this up.” I growled at him but only because he was close at hand. “That’s another thing. I went through all that bloody surgery for fuck all reason. All because of that bastard.” “Yes, but without it, you wouldn’t have exposed that bastard and all he was up to.” “We still haven’t.” I froze as Kirin’s entry speaker beeped. “Expecting someone?” “No. Better hide.” I dashed up to my room and hid behind the door, gun in hand. I heard Kirin talking to someone over the speaker phone, and then he laughed. I relaxed. Maybe just a friend—or old boyfriend—dropping over for a chat. “Come on down,” Kirin called. “It’s okay.” I put my weapon in my holster and put a jacket on. A little caution wouldn’t hurt. Shardul grinned as I stopped dead. “There you are. I bet you stopped to pick up a weapon.” I opened my jacket and showed him. “You should have called.” “And ruin the element of surprise? It’s good to see you again, Javen. To see you.” He came over and kissed my cheek. I winced but only a little. “Sorry. Is it tender?” “A bit. Mostly it’s reflex. How are you?” “Busy. Missing you.” Kirin coughed. “I’ll just...go clean up my closet or something. Javen, take Shardul into the living room. Offer him wine. Tell him where the spare toothbrushes are.” “Kirin, piss off, will you?” My eyes didn’t leave Shardul’s face. “Pissing off. Nice to see you, Shardul.” “And you. Goodnight, Kirin.”

I took Shardul by the hand and dragged him into the living room and down onto the sofa. “If you keep being this nice to my ex,” I said, nibbling his ear, “I might have to kill him.” “I have no interest in your ex, Javen.” He opened my jacket and tugged on the holster. “This comes off, or I refuse to stay.” “Pushy man.” But I took the jacket and holster off, took the charge bar out of the power pistol and put it in the pocket of the jacket. “There. Safe.” “Good.” He kissed me, using tongue and lips, hands roaming carefully, pushing me down to the sofa. My hands ended up on his firm butt, and I took shameless advantage of the position. Shardul writhed on top of me like we were slow dancing, and I pressed up against him, needing him, wanting him to be close and never leave. “You want to...uh...take this upstairs?” He pulled off me, and I groaned in raw frustration. Not again. “I came here to talk to you, actually.” “Now he tells me.” I adjusted my erection and scowled at him. “You are a fucking cocktease, Shardul. You’ve been turning me on remorselessly from the day I met you, and you still want to talk?” “Talk, then...perhaps more.” I sat up. “I need a drink.” “Make that two.” I found two beers in the cooler and handed him one. “Talk fast. I’m cranky, bored and horny, and I’m really ready to stop this dancing around thing.” “Sorry. I’m not trying to put you off. But I wanted to let you know how matters stand on the investigations.” I drank, he talked. Our three kidnappers had been arrested but weren’t talking. Others connected to the so-called ‘Justice for Nihan’ group were, though, in exchange for possibly seeing daylight again before they died. There was a genuine indigenous membership—the anger was real, after all—but not just Denge, but other leading citizens, were paying all the active players. Members of the Medele Freedom party—Dad’s most persistent critic—were prominently featured. “It’s enough to bring them in for questioning, but we can’t prove a causal connection, although we know there is one. The motive appears to be purely political—unseat your father and his party, and put rights for our people back to when the Kelons ruled and we

cowered.” “Not all the unrest was at their hands.” “No, certainly not, and, to my sorrow, our people committed serious crimes. But the attack on your family, the murder of that child, the other most heinous acts—these were paid for by Kelons.” I swallowed some more beer and considered. “What’s Dad going to do?” “That’s being discussed. I think he’ll want you ‘home’ before he makes a move.” “Right. You know, I still have no idea why we were kidnapped and not killed outright.” “Hmmm. The captain says they probably hoped to embarrass and disarm me by revealing me as a traitor to my people. It might also have been a way of putting pressure on your father. What’s certain is that we were valuable commodities and not to be discarded lightly. No one’s talking who knows the truth. Denge is hiding behind his lawyers for now.” “Of course he is, the gutless wonder.” I’d finished my drink. “Another one?” He put his hand on my wrist as I set the bottle on the table. “Actually, no. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about before...things go where they’re fairly obviously heading.” “If you’re breaking up with me again, I’m going to cry. Just warning you.” He grinned. “I might cry too. No, I still have some explanations to make. About that night—” “No. Really. You don’t. No explanations, no apologies. All I want to know from you is —do you love me, and do you want to be with me?” He touched my face, then leaned in to kiss me. “Yes, and yes.” He kissed me again, and stroked his fingers down my face. “I love you, and I have for a long time. But,” he added as, overwhelmed with desire and affection for this extraordinary creature, I reached for him, intending to never let him go again, “what I said that night, and since about the difficulties.... Javen, consider the problems.” “I have, and I don’t care.” He leaned back, for the first time his emotions less than bright. “I haven’t that luxury, and you know why. Things are so inflamed right now, and the risk is also to your father.” “So we’ll be discreet. I’m not stupid, Shardul. I know what could happen. I only meant that I don’t care what pain it brings me. But I love you and want to be with you. I want to

fight for what you fight for, and help both our races. I’ll face anything, so long as I can face it with you. The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you.” I picked up his hand and kissed it. “I made my mind up a long time ago. I can live without you. I have no wish to, and never will. If I have to wait, I will, but tell me you’ll be there in the end.” “You’re much braver than me,” he murmured, letting me take him in my arms. I nuzzled under his ear. “I can afford to be. I don’t risk as much. You wouldn’t have come here tonight if you hadn’t decided to stay.” “And yet I hadn’t...not finally.” “You’re trying to drive me insane.” “No, I’m not. You confuse my thought processes. When I’m with you, all I can think about is being with you, but I want to make the right decision for everyone.” “Shardul, your people and my people have been getting together for centuries. It won’t ever be easy, but it doesn’t have to hurt anyone. Look, go if you have to think about it some more. I won’t pressure you. I won’t be angry either.” He didn’t move. “No. I won’t go.” He leaned down until his face was resting against my neck. “I’m so tired, Javen. Tired always of the politics, the struggle. If I hesitate, it’s because of that weariness. But being with you gives me more peace, more strength, than anyone or anything outside prayer.” “I can never believe what you do, you know that. I will always be a guko.” “Believer or not, your feet tread in the ways of the Spirit, and as the Seeker teaches. Your heart is pure, and that can only be a gift from Him.” “Did you just convert me?” He lifted his head to grin at me. “I wouldn’t even try.” “Come to bed?” “In this house?” “You’d prefer my parents’ place? Kirin doesn’t mind, and if you do, I can promise to distract you.” He reached under me and gave my butt a highly suggestive squeeze. “I promise it won’t be difficult.” ~~~~~~~~ By the time I officially ‘came home’, Dad had learned that one of his sons would be stepping out publicly with a Nihani lover in the not too distant future. He wasn’t as upset as I feared—neither of my parents minded all that much, funnily enough—but when and how

to break the news to the public was an issue we couldn’t sort out quickly. My new relationship with Shardul was a source of joy for both of us, but also of lots and lots of arguments over the public thing. His relatives as well as mine all had advice and cautions aplenty, but no guarantees that whatever we did wouldn’t hurt Dad at a point where he needed to be in office and in control, or Shardul when he needed to speak for his community with authority. Me, I didn’t care about, but I was damned if anyone would hurt those I loved through any act of mine. Fortunately, Shardul and I found time to be together that didn’t involve discussing the vexed issue, and even a couple of weekends away up at my grandfather’s house. Granddad took to Shardul right away, and Shardul to him. The happy memories of those breaks carried me through some tough times. And there were plenty of those. Though the truly scary attacks had ended when the ringleaders of the supposed Nihani terrorist group had been arrested, the harm had been done, and the political hardliners pounded on the drum of the ‘indigenous threat’ as hard as they could. They gained a lot of traction—but Dad wasn’t giving up without a fight. He pressed on with planned reforms, and invited indigenous leaders to attend news conferences with him. Those same leaders made repeated, public pleas for their community to remain calm and law-abiding, which had a real impact. Working with my father, the Nihan organised a number of goodwill events aimed at families, and there was a surprisingly good attendance. Dad also set up a number of community awards, and Nihani individuals were prominently featured. The government launched an appeal against Denge’s acquittal, and since three judges, not a jury, would hear the appeal, there was a good chance of winning. No guarantees, though. A conviction would go a long way towards assuaging indigenous anger. Darshan and his men were charged with terrorist activity. Someone paid for the Nihan accused to access a decent legal team, but conviction was likely. We hoped Darshan would give up his paymasters before trial, because he and the other two weren’t the real target. We were really after the hardliners and their illicit connections. Dad’s people had done a bit of shrewd leaking of their own, planting leads and cultivating reporters. One of the reporters ran an exposé and the resulting uproar gave Dad what he was after—an excuse to establish a judicial review into the alleged links. Whether that would bear fruit, we didn’t know, and it would move glacially slow, but the judges had come out on the side of right before, and we just hoped they would again. It was all a gamble, and all Dad could do was count on his fixed term appointment to resist calls for him to resign. After that, he said, he’d fight for re-election, and if he failed,

he’d fight in opposition. I swore to help him win the election, even if I had to give up my business to do it. I’d already decided to quit being a cop. Ironic, I knew, seeing how I’d wanted nothing more than to be an active officer again. But being in the force meant following rules and procedures—and superiors—I couldn't in conscience agree with, or reconcile with my relationship with Shardul. Captain Largosen quietly deactivated my status, and I submitted my formal resignation after that. “I suspect your true talents lie elsewhere, Sri Ythen,” he told me at the time. “For the record, I’m behind what you and your father are trying to achieve.” “We need support inside and outside the system, so please keep going.” I saluted him. “Give ‘em shit, sir.” He smiled, but as always, his emotions were his own secret. I didn’t mind. I judged him by his actions, and he’d fought the good fight. I believed we could trust him, and there were few enough around. Five months later, Shardul and I drove to the space port to meet some very special passengers, whose arrival had been kept very quiet, deliberately, because everything our family did was now political, and we just could not predict what reaction the media would have to my brother and his family coming back to Uterden. “Uncle Javen!” I grinned and knelt, bracing myself for impact. “Oof! Wow, look who’s grown.” “I’m tall now!” Harshul declared. “We’re the same height, Harshul,” Madhu said, squelchingly. “Who’s that, uncle Javen?” He pointed up and behind me. “Boys, this is my friend, Shardul. Say hello.” They stared. Shardul crouched down. “Hello, Harshul.” “I’m Madhu,” he corrected impatiently. Shardul, who knew that perfectly well, bowed his head. “So you are. And you are indeed tall. Are you brave and clever with it?” Madhu looked right at Shardul. “Yes, I am.” “I am too!” Harshul shouted. Shardul wiggled a finger in his ear, and Harshul took the hint. “Sorry. Sometimes I’m a bit loud, Mummy says.” I ruffled his hair. “Yes, but we love you anyway. Ah, and there’s Mummy and Daddy now.”

Tara waved, and held Nita up to say hello, but love my darling sister-in-law and her little girl though I did, I only had eyes for the man next to them. Yashi strode forward, and held out his hand. “Javen.” I pulled him into a hug, and wanted to never let go. I couldn’t speak, I was so full of love and relief and sheer amazement that he was here and whole. “We missed you,” he said, pounding my back lightly. “We missed home. We just couldn't stay away any longer.” “And we couldn’t bear it without you. Welcome home, brother.” I leaned back to look at him. “You look....” “Not quite as good as new, but getting there.” He was right, of course. The rebuilt side of his face wasn’t scarred but it was that very perfection which looked slightly wrong. But compared with how I’d last seen it, it was a miracle. I touched his cheek. “You look like my brother, and that’s all I damn well care about. Tara, come and meet my boyfriend.” She gave a little squeak of surprise when she realised who I meant, but, smiling brightly, she held her hand out to my lover. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Tara.” “And I am Shardul. Welcome back. This is a blessed day for Javen and you all.” The religious reference made her frown only briefly in confusion, but then she grinned at Yashi. “Your brother definitely knows how to pick the good-looking ones.” “So does mine,” I said. “Let’s go home.” “To the residence?” Yashi asked. “Nope. To your home and my home. Mum and Dad are waiting in your house.” While Dad battled the hardliners, Mum had battled builders and architects. They’d wanted to ‘improve’ Yashi and Tara’s lovely house, but she’d insisted that nothing, outside a few necessary repairs and equipment updates, should be changed from the original. Using images and vids and my memory, she’d reconstructed the house and flat almost exactly as it had been, right down to the paint colours. The burned belongings, the treasures and keepsakes, couldn’t be replaced, but she’d done what she could with copies of precious photos, duplicates of toys and ornaments and books. Tara burst into tears when she walked in through her own front door. “It’s so beautiful,” she sobbed, and my undemonstrative mother actually hugged her while she

cried. We all cried, except for Shardul, who politely kept out of the way while all the emotional stuff was going on. The boys recovered fastest, of course, and wanted to see the garden, dragging my parents out with them. Tara insisted she wanted to cook in her kitchen again. “Even if it’s just to boil water. I can’t believe it,” she added for at least the twentieth time since she’d arrived. Yashi had charge of Nita, who had just started to crawl and who was investigating one of the chairs. “I should take her outside,” he said. “Care to join us, Javen, Shardul?” “In a bit. First, there’s something I want to do. I’ll come find you guys.” He nodded, and hoisted his daughter up in the air, making her laugh. “Outside with you, little girl. Come see the lovely Uterden sun.” Shardul turned to me. “What do you have to do?” I took his hand. “This.” I led him through to my rebuilt flat, and to the bedroom. Mum hadn’t had a hand in the redecoration here, and I’d added a few touches, to make it more welcoming and comfortable. I had a reason for that. “This is my home, and now it’s yours too, whenever you want it to be. When you’re ready, if you can see your way to it, I want to build a house with you, and live with you in it for the rest of my life.” He pulled me down onto the bed, and kissed me, nibbling gently at my lips and cheek in that teasing, delicious way he had. “Javen, are you asking me to marry you?” “I don’t know. Is that allowed in your moral code?” “I think my moral code positively demands I marry you. Does your moral code allow me to ravish you when there are children in the house?” I lay back, dragging him on top of me. “Hope so, because there are going to be children around for a long time, and I need a lot of ravishing.” “Shall I lock the door then?” “What an excellent idea.” ~~~~~~~~ My journey to Shardul had begun a hundred and fifty years ago, when my ancestor had fallen in love with a woman of a different race and faith, and joined his destiny to that of a beautiful new world and people. But it had really begun thousands of years before that, when the ancestors of both our peoples had spread through space, seeking new homes and new freedoms, diversifying and recolonising. His blood and mine both ran red through

skins of different colour, and we saw the same world, even if his eyes were sky blue, and mine earth brown. He believed in a higher power, I believed in science and logic. We both wanted justice and decency to rule our behaviour and that of humankind. Our differences could divide us, or strengthen us, and our peoples. We chose to make a whole stronger than the sum of the parts, and that was what we would fight for in Hegal, in Medele, even for the whole planet of Uterden. Each of us would be the reminder to the other what was at stake, and what could stand in our path. One day, Shardul could be this country’s first indigenous governor, and I would be there, supporting him to the hilt. We’d make a hell of a team. If you enjoyed these stories, then discover more of my books for sale at http://logophilos.net/store Connect with Me Online: Twitter: http://twitter.com/ann_somerville Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/logophilos On Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ann-Somerville/142845022413710