Ashborn 339: Clandestine Meetings (Part Two) (Maiya) (Patreon)

Three days. After three full days of scouting, Maiya had nothing. She had to hand it to Riyan. He was good. Very good, in fact, though that was hardly a surprise. 

The man had avoided Mina Hiranya’s assassination attempts for years, and before that, his many enemies across many battlefields.

Having a competent ally was one of the greatest boons she could’ve asked for. Yet right now, as of this moment, Maiya felt only frustration.

“This is impossible,” Yamal said. “You do understand this, yes?”

Maiya ground her teeth. “There has to be a way,” she said. “We can’t just give up.”

They were currently perched on a nearby rooftop, watching one of the many entrances to Riyan’s warehouses. A light dusting of snow fell upon the city of Kaiya, blanketing it with silence and cold.

“Bheem. Any chance you could get us in through the sewers?”

The big man pursed his lips and scribbled his reply down on a notebook.

“Possible, but risky. One thing to explore its depths. Another entirely to locate a specific point.”

“So it remains our backup plan. If we can’t find a better solution in the next day or two, we’ll give it a shot.”

It was times like these that Maiya wished for Vir’s Prana Vision. How simple would this be if she could see through walls?

Alas, she couldn’t, and so a different tactic was required.

“What about you, Yamal? Any luck getting leads from the local populus?”

The ex-merchant had acted alone for most of the duration of their stay, which suited the man just fine. He’d spent his days chatting away in warm log cabins while Maiya remained out in the snow, scouting and observing. “It’s not that they’re tight-lipped,” he said. “Between the coin you gave me and the liquor I bought them, their words come easily.”

“But?” Maiya asked.

“They speak much, but say little. Only a small handful are even aware of your friend’s presence, and those who are only have vague suspicions of those who might belong to his band of rebels. Nothing nearly substantial enough to act on, I’m afraid. If we corner them and are wrong…”

“We’ll have the Saian authorities breathing down our back,” Maiya said. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to make a move on anyone unless I’m sure. Besides, it’d be useless. Riyan wouldn’t send anyone out on their own unless he knew they’d die for him. I doubt we’d get anything out of anyone we capture, even if we torture them. Which I’m not willing to do,” Maiya added before Yamal could react.

“Right,” he said. “Of course not.”

Maiya rolled her eyes. “I might be the Blessed Chosen and an agent of Kin’jal, but I’m not a monster. I just wish there was an easier way,” she said with a sigh. “I wish we could just barge up to his front door and demand to be let in.”

“Er, why can’t we?” Yamal said.

“What?” Maiya replied, staring at him like he’d grown an extra eye.

“Why not march up to his door and demand to be let in? He’s hiding. He can’t very well ignore us if we kick up a stir, can he?”

“No, he can’t ignore us,” Maiya replied. “Which is why he’ll bring out his men and attack us. Which gets us nowhere.”

“But you just said he doesn’t want to be found,” Yamal said. He was being oddly insistent about this, so Maiya decided to hear him out. It wasn’t often he put his foot down, after all. She was actually impressed he was showing some backbone for once. The least she could do was honor that.

“Go on,” she said.

“Well, it seems to me that a fight in the streets would attract quite some attention.”

Maiya shrugged. “He has no other choice. Knowing him, he’ll go send someone to fetch the authorities and claim we’re being a nuisance. For all they know, we’re the aggressors here.”

“Hmm,” Yamal said with a frown. “I admit, that could be an issue.”

He fell silent, backing down, but Maiya kept stewing over what he said.

“I think I see where you’re going with this, though,” she said. “If—hypothetically—the guards weren’t an issue, what would happen?”

“Well, I’d think a crowd would form. It’d be quite the spectacle.”

“Precisely what Riyan doesn’t want,” Maiya said. “And if we make it known that we only want to chat with Riyan… If I state who I am…”

“You will tell him you’re with Kin’jal?” Yamal asked in surprise. “That seems ill-advised.”

“No. But I’ll tell him Maiya’s back and wants to talk. As I mentioned, we have a history together. There’s a chance he’ll be willing to meet. Not much of one chance, but at least a chance, nonetheless.”

“And the Saian guards?”

Maiya gave him a sly smirk. “Oh, that? That’s the easy part. We do have a squad of elite Kin’jal operatives, camped comfortably `outside the city, after all. I say it’s about time we put them to good use. Don’t you?”

— — 

A company of Kin’jal battlemaidens showing up in the middle of Sai would have been a political disaster—and not the sort Maiya wanted. At Sonam, Ira was known for arming her personal attendants, and even if the local Saians didn’t know, knowledge would get back to Andros—likely through Kin’jal informants loyal to the Imperator.

That was alright. Each and every handmaiden in Maiya’s team were experts at makeup. She need only dress them in Saian commoner garb and have them work their magic, and they’d be indistinguishable from the local population.

Or, as Maiya intended, indistinguishable from the Saian rebel faction.

The problem lay in procuring the required clothing. Packing for an extended stay in the frigid north had precluded bringing many personal effects. Even the handmaidens’ makeup kits had to be curtailed to reduce their overall weight. Acira tired easily, and extra weight meant extra Acira at every transfer stop.

For normal militaries, this would pose a real logistical hassle, but here again, Ira’s handmaidens were anything but normal. Trained in espionage and subterfuge as they were, Maiya simply had them dress in their most basic garb and sent them off to different tailors in search of clothing, staggering them over several days. Wearing makeup as they were, nobody recognized them, and the handmaidens had leaped at a chance to take action. Just a few days later, all were clothed in winter Saian wear, their faces subtly painted to look more rugged than they were.

It hadn’t taken much. None of them had bathed in days, and setting up camp was sweaty work. The disguise was only half-deception, as the best disguises tended to be.

On the fourth day after their arrival, they were finally in position. Her handmaidens had split into a half-dozen squads and were sprinkled all around the neighborhood. Maiya’s own squad was the largest, with four handmaidens. 

Being noncombatants, Bheem and Yamal monitored the situation from afar. While Bheem had his physical strength, neither were trained warriors—let alone trained to the rigor of Ira’s elite agents. They’d only get in the way.

From her rooftop, Maiya gazed down at the street. Snow fell lightly, even as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. It was cold, but not frigid, and the ground was covered in slush.

Men sat with their backs to the wall, hands extended, begging for coin. Others were curled up in a fetal position, sleeping, others still ambled idly around, acting as though the world had abandoned them.

There was just one tiny detail that caused a grin to creep onto Maiya’s face.

For each and every person in that alley, from the beggars to those walking by throwing sneers at them, was a Kin’jal handmaiden.

The ruse was so perfect that even Maiya would have passed them by, had she not known who they were.

After monitoring the situation for a while longer, Maiya set out.

The most conspicuous thing she could do would be to pretend as though she were some secret agent. Only amateurs behaved that way, and Maiya would not damage the elaborate play her actors had so painstakingly put on.

Her gait was casual but deliberate, and she walked up to the door and knocked.

As she did, Maiya’s handmaidens  had casually maneuvered into position, with several coming together to engage in discussions with each other. A handful of tussles broke out, starting with shouts and loud voices.

All to hide Maiya’s physical presence and mask the sound of her knocking. If any regular slum dwellers were present, it’d have been impossible to spot Maiya among the ruckus playing out.

Though she kept her expressionless mask, Maiya wanted nothing more than to smile with pride. There was no feeling in the world as satisfying as being in command of such an elite group. Though they were second to none in combat, Ira’s handmaidens were not merely fighters. They were veteran spies and master actors. They were experts at improvisation, and they were elite engineers. They were whatever they needed to be for the situation at hand, and they excelled at everything they did.

Which was why Maiya knew that should this situation turn violent, the handmaidens would have her back.

She kept knocking. And kept on knocking, even as minutes passed.

They couldn’t ignore her forever, and with such a ruckus brewing outside, someone was bound to know.

More likely, Riyan had scouts who’d been reporting back. He’d known from the very beginning.

But if he was hoping they’d give up and go away, they were horribly wrong.

The sounds had drawn spectators, and it wasn’t long after that a crowd formed. 

And then, in the distance, Maiya heard what she’d been waiting for.

The city guard had arrived. 

Calls of ‘Break it up!’ and ‘What’s going on here’ grew steadily louder, and in just moments, the guard would be upon Riyan’s building. And that was something Riyan very much did not want.

Sure enough, with less than a minute remaining, the door opened. Betraying Maiya’s expectations, it wasn’t an attendant or a low-level grunt that greeted her. 

It was Riyan Savar himself, and he was scowling.

“If you value your life, leave.”

Maiya’s heart skipped a beat. The authority behind his words hadn’t lessened a drop, despite the half-mask he wore that hid part of his face. 

Then again, Maiya wasn’t the same village girl she’d once been. Rather than quiver in fear, it was another sensation entirely that coursed through her veins.

Giddiness.

He hadn’t recognized her! The man who had taught her the art of makeup had himself failed to see through her disguise.

“Wow, Riyan,” she replied, her voice full of sarcasm. “Is that what you say to your long-lost disciple?”

To his credit, Riyan maintained an expressionless mask, betraying no hint of the surprise Maiya knew he felt.

“You…” he breathed.

Maiya smudged off her makeup. “In the flesh. And do you have any idea how hard it was to get a hold of you?”

Riyan frowned. “I do not understand. Why are you here? Who are these people?”

Maiya beamed. “Why don’t you let me come inside, and we can chat.” She thumbed over to the guards who pierced their way through the crowd. “Because I’m pretty sure they’d very much like to have a talk once they find out about your little operation.”

Again, if he was surprised, Riyan didn’t show it, though his frown deepened, and this time, it bore the creases of suspicion. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much. Just wanted to talk about how we’re going to overthrow not just Sai’s government, but King Rayid Hiranya as well. In favor of a far better ruler. One you already approve of.”

Riyan’s eyes widened, and this time, not even his own prodigious acting skills could stop him from expressing his surprise. Surprise… and Interest.

In her head, Maiya raised a fist in victory. 

Got him.