Page 24 of Storm of Ink and Blood

The laws of Gi’ana required every vanshaj who fell pregnant to register with the Jadugara. Failure to do so came with harsh penalties, and many parents had tried to hide their children over the years, but few ever got away with it. The Jadugara’s mandate also included hunting down anyone who might have escaped their collar and bringing them to swift justice. Or at least, what they considered their cruel brand of “justice.”

“They haven’t closed the den, so they must be using whatever they have left,” Ajay added.

“What are the talks of rebuilding the factory?” Suvanna asked. “Surely, they’re already underway.”

Ajay shook his head. “We have a number of spies from the Rising Phoenix working inside the palace as servants, but so far, they haven’t picked up on anything. Any conversations must be happening behind closed doors.”

“So we should find that out, too.”

“That’s how we can help,” Apsara said. “We can present ourselves as emissaries from our realms, which isn’t untrue.”

“Why will you say you’re here?” Yasen asked.

“Do we need a specific reason?” Apsara said. “We can say we’re here for a visit.”

“You could use the upcoming coronation as your cover,” Rania offered.

“Right,” Apsara said. “It wouldn’t be unusual for representatives from other realms to attend.”

“Do you think they’d welcome you?” Ajay asked.

“Most kingdoms welcome members of the Chiranjivi unless they want to make enemies,” Suvanna said with a sharp look.

“Okay, then. You’ll get inside and see if you can learn anything about the rebuilding plans. In the meantime, we need to find a way into the Imarat.”

Zarya looked at Yasen. “So, I guess we’re planning another break-in.”

Yasen held up his glass and tipped it in a toast. “Lucky for all of you, this is becoming my specialty.”

NINE

Once again, Zarya stood in a dark alley with a hood obscuring her face. Perhaps she should examine how her life had found her in this particular situation with such frequency of late.

The Imarat was a massive, sprawling four-story compound in the heart of the bustling city that housed the members of the Jadugara. They occupied the top floors, each living in opulence, thanks to the funding and support they received from the nobility and the royal family.

The Taara Den was housed on the main floor, where pregnant women presented themselves in their third trimester. They remained here, sleeping in large dorm rooms on the second and third levels until they gave birth. Zarya had walked past it many times, hearing the cries of labor and the wails of the babies screaming at the sting of needles forced into their tiny necks. And even worse, the delirious, heartbreaking screams when a child failed to survive the hideous procedure.

Just the thought of it made her want to throw up. The callousness and disregard for human suffering were incomprehensible. Having lived sheltered from the world, she’d never been exposed to the way indifference could filter into the cracks of society, turning people into monsters who confidently walked through broad daylight.

“Does Daragaab have a place like this?” she asked Yasen, who stood next to her, similarly hooded and cloaked, looking up at the building. Shame burned at the back of her throat that she hadn’t spent more time paying attention to the vanshaj while she’d lived in Dharati.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “A small group of Jadugara live in the city to place the markings and receive shipments of ink from Gi’ana, but things are less organized.”

“Does that mean some of them get away without being marked?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, leaving it at that.

A few lights glowed in the building, but mostly, it sat dark, its inhabitants asleep for the night. Normally, the Imarat was only loosely guarded by the city watch. The Jadugara feared no one. On one side, they lived in the back pockets of the wealthy, and on the other, they ruled by fear, whether you were vanshaj or not.

No one came near this place willingly, terrified of incurring the Jadugara’s notice. While their authority technically gave them jurisdiction over the vanshaj, they also used their considerable magic on anyone who they believed had escaped the collar. Ajay suspected they liked to make an example of an innocent person now and then just to keep everyone afraid.

But after the factory explosion, the royals had apparently offered up some of their own soldiers, and now a line of them stood protecting the front entrance in their regal emerald sherwanis. If Zarya and Yasen were caught, the royal family would undoubtedly impose more threats, and who knew when they’d start acting on them? It might unravel the careful rope they’d been weaving. The Rising Phoenix had been at this for years with little success, and Zarya hoped she was close to offering, if not a solution, then at least some leverage.

“Let’s go,” Yasen said, peering up at the sky. “We’ll try entering from the back.”

Yasen and Zarya retreated into the shadows and made their way through the twisting corridors to arrive at the rear of the compound. The building was made of the same white stone as most of the city, carved with whorls and flowers. Gilded borders framed the windows, and small silver domes crowned various towers and sections of the roof. Bordered by a high iron fence, the grounds were an impeccable field of clipped green grass and flowering bushes.

Two bored men in uniform guarded the back door, looking like they would rather be anywhere else.