The Tiger at Midnight (The Tiger at Midnight Trilogy #1)(34)
Esha usually hated this part. Why did people have to betray the Blades? It was always such a mess.
But this time, if it meant answers, she was happy to clean it up.
Chapter 20
Kunal tugged off a hunk of the dried fig, chewing on it thoroughly as his mare came to a stop outside Faor. His mare tossed her head, seemingly annoyed that he was eating and she wasn’t.
It had been almost a week since leaving the Fort. He wondered how the other soldiers were faring. Laksh would be fine, probably had already made a slew of friends up and down the river. Amir was probably enjoying the sights, and he didn’t care one whit about Rakesh.
His horse whinnied, and he tore off a small bit of the fig and offered it to the animal with an absentminded gesture, rubbing her neck to calm her down. They were moving into the city, approaching a wide expanse of rubble, remnants of a stone tower. He ran a comforting hand over her back, until he felt the tension leave her shoulders.
The city in front of him was larger than the ones he had traveled through so far. And not as poor since they still had the river to rely on.
From the outskirts, he could see the outline of an old temple to the Sun Maiden and a domed market in the center of the town with a city hall at the top of the hill. City halls had fallen out of use in the past ten years—an edict from the king—but he didn’t know any Jansan who didn’t revere the old traditions and maintain the buildings.
King Vardaan would have razed the temples too, but even he had enough fear to not raise the ire of the gods—and the people who worshipped them.
He kept an eye on the people as he traveled into the city, noticing their health, the produce being sold. He even kept an eye out for any soldiers who might be making trouble. Kunal had spent the ride from Ujral thinking of all he had learned, wondering how he could do something.
Kunal hadn’t been able to shake thoughts of the lost princess, either. He had never known the Senaps were said to have been the ones to draw their swords against the royals.
Was she alive? Could these people have it right, that she had survived? If she was alive, as they so fervently believed, she could be the key to saving the land, helping these people.
He cursed himself, wondering how he had been so blind, so content to listen and not question. Stolen bits of conversation between his uncle and other military leaders flitted back to him, words of drought and the failing janma bond—lies and half-truths, and he had believed it all.
It had been easier to live his life by only focusing on the next step as a soldier, on how to ease his own path.
Kunal couldn’t help but wonder what else he had missed.
Chapter 21
The bazaar in Faor covered over half a mile, circling the small hill in the center of the town like a crown. Esha had familiarized herself with the layout yesterday, as it would be crucial to her plans today.
She had been mulling over Jiten’s assertion—that there was a rebel in Faor looking to leave Jansa hastily—since Pora, trying to make sense of it. Why leave the Southern Lands when peace was so close?
Unless you knew peace wouldn’t last and were looking to escape.
Unless you had framed the Viper and knew your days were numbered.
What would make someone betray the Crescent Blades? Being a Blade was actually a decent life. You were well fed and had a purpose. Esha shook her head. It didn’t matter, did it? Even if they hadn’t framed Esha and the Blades, they would be a deserter, and that would have the same result—death by Viper.
She had spent the past day gathering information from her contacts in Faor. One had divulged that the rebel had been coming to the bazaar every day for the past week, spending time in the jewelry stalls before going to the caravansary to bargain for passage. So far no one had agreed, as most of the caravans were booked for the traders festival in the east.
Clearly, the rebel had enough coin to book passage—which narrowed down the inns they could be staying at to four. It hadn’t taken her long to bribe the underpaid maids at each inn and narrow it down to one.
If Esha’s luck blew straight, she’d get ahold of her suspect today.
She’d been following her from the inn since early morning, hoping she’d go to the bazaar again. It was crowded enough that Esha would be able to confront her target without drawing undue attention, or blowing her cover.
The man in front of her, his thick beige turban teetering on the edge of his head, handed Esha what she had been looking for all morning. Esha cradled the metal cup in her hands, letting the steam of the chai waft into her nose. She nodded at the shopkeeper in thanks.
Taking a blissful sip, she remembered the way her mother used to call tea the nectar of the gods. Once, her father had brought back rolled tea leaves from the far east, a perk of being the Dharkan ambassador. The three of them had forgone their chai that day. Instead, they ate delicate pastries and drank the green tea as her father told stories of each kingdom’s grand feasts and libraries filled with more scrolls than the mind could fathom.
Esha sighed, pushing away the memories. She had come to the stall for chai, but also because it gave her the perfect vantage point to observe the denizens of the bazaar and to strategize. She couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Esha patted her thigh to make sure her weapons were still secure. Good. She ducked under a rolled-up carpet being carried by two men and dodged another shopkeeper with a sweet smile.