At the side where Aasha had thrown the pebble, a scraping sound filled the emptiness.
They walked over to see that the dry and twisting vines that had covered the side of the building were nothing more than artfully painted whorls of steel. Now, they were being pulled up, like chain mail, over the side of the tower to reveal a sturdy black door. The true entrance. There was even a note nailed to the center:
Speak true
Speak fast
Or I’ll kill you
Aasha appreciated her bluntness.
She did not doubt that the Spy Mistress meant her wordsand she found it exhilarating. In Bharata, everyone hid their spite behind silk. They hid murderous ideas behind well-bred manners. Here, she did not have to think too hard.
Just as she had at the brink of the well, Aasha reached for her own instincts.
If anyone thought it was odd that the strange advisor of Queen Gauri was clutching her throat, no one said anything. Which was a good thing too because Aasha was readingthem.She cast out her will like a net, gathering what desires floated to the tops of people’s minds like oil separating from water.
Desires were gauzy blooms of heat—they flared or subsided. But always, they were there. If there were any humans present, that soft dent of heat would have revealed them.
The Spy Mistress couldn’t be here, she thought.
“You brought me a gawker?” called a peevish voice on the other side of the door.
Aasha jumped back.
It was impossible. How could she have avoided Aasha’s reading?
Suraj appeared behind her. “Yes, Mistress. This is the Lady Aasha, personally selected by Emperor Vikramaditya of Ujijain, and Queen Gauri of—”
“Did you not the read the door?”
“I beg your pardon—”
“Please don’t. I never cared for beggars.”
“Yes, I read the—”
“When I say speak fast and speak true, it’s not me showing off my sparkling wit and humor. It is the baldest plea of: DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!”
The stones shook.
“Yes. This is her!” shouted back Suraj. “Take her. Train her. Make her like you—”
“Truthfully?” laughed the voice. “The new sovereigns must have a sense of humor. Or self-loathing. To the untrained eye, they can look remarkably similar.”
The Spy Mistress still had not opened the door.
“It is my duty to dispatch her,” said Suraj, growing more red-faced by the moment.
“Is she a letter? Or a prisoner in need of execution?”
“She is not,” said Aasha rather forcefully.
“Lo!” called the voice. “It speaks.”
Suraj shot her a look of sympathy. The luggage was placed by the door. The soldiers, fierce creatures that they were, had already closed the door to the carriages.
“We will be back at the third new moon to take Lady Aasha back to the palace,” said Suraj. “At that time, you will be asked to accompany us and either name her as co–Spy Mistress or rescind any recommendation.”
