“We can cover the day and evening watches,” Yatin replies, sipping more wine.
His lack of specificity troubles me. Those under my command tread carefully in their reports, a practice retained from Tarek’s reign. My father was intolerant of unsatisfactory news. “Captain, I would appreciate your evaluation on our drought of guards.”
“Yatin gave his full report this morning,” Pons replies. “You missed the meeting.”
He refers to the appointment he reminded me of while I was with Kalinda. “I apologize for my absence and for my terseness with you, Pons. Captain, please repeat the foremost items.”
Yatin clears his throat. “Another eight men have left to serve Commander Lokesh for higher wages. His operation must be funded by his employer.”
A wealthy sponsor, no doubt. Structural repairs have depleted our coffers. Tarek was fair in his payment of his personal guard, perhaps his only reasonable decision as rajah, but I have already elevated wages to entice guards to stay. I cannot afford to increase them again.
“You could offer a short-term signing bonus for new guards,” Pons suggests.
I do not like incentivizing my own men to serve me. Still, I must slow the depletion of our defenses. “Instruct the treasurer to find the coin to pay for the bonuses.”
I drink down my water, then adjust the waist of my trousers pinching my sides.
Our female diners arrive, and all of us rise to greet them. Natesa regards my matching tunic and turban approvingly and then goes to Yatin. Indah joins Pons, leaving Gemi in the doorway.
She has traded her trousers for a crimson sari fringed with beadwork. A black comb pins up half her hair and the rest tumbles down her back. She still wears her shell earrings and necklace. Beneath the hem of her skirt, her feet are dyed with henna markings of the moon phases, the style in the Southern Isles, and her toenails are painted pink.
More noticeably, someone drew a henna line down her nose, a signal to all that she is intended to wed.
Brac enters next and in three big steps reaches Gemi. “Welcome, Princess. Wonderful to see you again.”
The princess bobs into a curtsy. “Ambassador, Mathura and Chitt send their well wishes. They’ll arrive later with my father.”
“My mother does love a wedding.”
“Don’t we all?” Gemi’s gaze flits to me. “Ashwin, you look handsome.”
As Natesa goes around the table, she bumps me with her hip to further establish her dominance as my fashion delegate.
“Everyone sit,” Indah says. “It isn’t often Pons and I have an evening without Jala.”
We kneel around the low, circular table under the pagoda. Indah refills the water and wine chalices, sending perfectly measured streams from pitchers and bottles. Servants bring a hookah on a tray. Brac picks up the pipe and draws in a puff of smoke.