ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH (9 page)

“
hey look like they want to eat us,” whispered John.

“You?” said Khan. “You’re not even an appetiser.”

Ash sat with them on a gravestone as Parvati consulted the big elephant rakshasa, Mahout. One of the demons passed them a bowl of rice and spicy vegetable curry, but otherwise they kept separate. Only Khan seemed relaxed, but then he always did. He sniffed at the curry.

“Could do with a bit of beef,” he said. “Goat would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve had some goat. Or human. Nothing beats a soft bit of man flesh.”

John gulped and shifted further along the fallen gravestone.

“Leave him alone,” said Ash. He looked over at Parvati. A couple of lamps had been set up inside a large mausoleum. Ash noticed the old East India Company initials and a scroll with the name ‘Lord Cornwall’ on the mausoleum, almost obscured by the vines creeping across the roof. “This guy must have been a player. His tomb’s twice the size of everyone else’s.”

“Old president,” said Khan. “Once, all of the province of Bengal was his.”

Parvati was deep in conversation, leaning over some maps with Mahout and two other rakshasas. A small silk bag lay between them – the one with the Koh-i-noor inside.

“Where did they come from?” Ash asked. “These rakshasas?”

Khan shrugged. “Not all demons followed Ravana.”

“That include you?”

“Tiger rakshasas follow no one. We do what we please.” Khan pointed a long nail at a group of small demons gathered round a pot. “Cockroaches. Scorpions. There,” he gestured to two perched on the roof. “Crows. They’re untouchables, lower caste demons. Ravana and the other royals would not have them, so they’ve turned to Parvati.”

Ash understood. Parvati’s mother had been human, so Parvati wasn’t considered a true ‘royal’ rakshasa. It seemed that those who could find no one else to lead them had decided to follow her. India was a country built, and divided, by caste – much like the old English class system, but a thousand times more complicated and a thousand times older. There were Brahmins, the priests, at the top. Next came the warrior caste, called the Kshatriya. After that were the merchants and farmers and then the lower castes. Finally, there were the untouchables. He’d never thought the rakshasas would be similarly split.

“And what are you?” said John.

“Warrior caste, of course,” said Khan. “Like all other predators.”

“And Parvati. She must be a Brahmin,” said John. “They’re the highest caste, after all.”

Khan shook his head. “No, rulers come from the warrior caste. Brahmins aren’t allowed to bear arms. They are usually advisers, the power behind the throne, as it were.”

“So who are the Brahmins in the rakshasa world?” said Ash.

“There is, was, a race of serpents, called nagas. Ravana was descended from them, hence Parvati’s cobra heritage.”

“Ravana was a Brahmin?”

“Originally, yes. But Ravana, instead of following the Brahmin path, chose to become a warrior. Moving from one caste to another is exceedingly rare, but then Ravana was an exception to most rules.” Khan licked his fingers clean. “The nagas were the wisest of us all, but they disappeared soon after Ravana’s defeat at the hands of Rama. I’ve not seen one since. Probably extinct by now.”

Ash looked around the group. “How many of you are there? There must have been thousands at Ravana’s rebirth. What happened to them? Those that survived, that is.”

Khan pointed up at the sky. “See those stars? Every one of them is a rakshasa soul.”

“That’s a lot.”

Khan smiled and his eyes, amber as fire, shone with wicked amusement. “Afraid?”

“I’d be stupid not to be.”

Khan slapped Ash’s back with a roar of a laugh, nearly knocking Ash over. He had to take a second to recover his breath.

“Don’t worry, mortal,” said Khan. “Most were killed in the great war with Rama. The sky burned with the fire of the gods. Aastras blazed down from the clouds and from the bows of Rama and his generals. Countless rakshasas were slaughtered. They won’t be reincarnated in a hurry, if ever.”

“But only the Kali-aastra truly destroys,” said Ash. “Isn’t there a chance that they may come back?”

“All at once? How? No. In a small, thin stream, perhaps. Not enough to be a threat to humanity, alas.” Khan looked up at the star-filled night and sighed. “Perhaps Ravana could have done it with his sorcery, brought down all those wandering spirits. But there is no Ravana now and there never will be.”

Ash looked to Parvati. She and Mahout were deep in discussion in the empty mausoleum a distance away. The rest of the motley band of rakshasas were camped around the larger tombs for shelter. There was something he needed to know and didn’t want Parvati or the others hearing. “It must be nice, knowing you’ll come back.”

“I suppose. Never really thought about it.”

“It’s different for us mortals.”

“You get reincarnated, don’t you? Hardly different at all.”

Ash frowned. “We don’t remember our pasts. But there must be a way, a spell or sorcery or something that allows us to come back, the way we were?”

He couldn’t shake it from his mind, the idea of bringing Gemma back somehow. But there was no point discussing it with Parvati. Khan was as old as her, he’d lived as many lives, he might know something that could help.

Khan peered at Ash, eyebrow arched suspiciously. “What did Parvati say about this?”

“She said that when we’re gone, we’re gone, for ever.”

“Then you have my answer.”

“But—”

Khan raised his hand. “Enough.” He stood up. “Now, I’ve been cooped up in a plane for a day and would like to stretch my legs. Goodnight, Ash.”

Well that conversation had been a big fat failure. Frustrated and too agitated to sleep, Ash put his bowl aside and joined Parvati.

“You’re looking better,” he said. Parvati wasn’t back to normal, but her skin had returned to its smooth, unblemished tone and her hair, instead of looking brittle and dull, was again as sleek and black as a raven’s wing. “What’s going on?”

A map of the city lay spread over a sarcophagus. Mahout was busy marking the map with red dots, holding the thick marker pen with his trunk.

Parvati indicated the red dots. “Savage is in one of these places, if my information is correct.”

“There must be a hundred.”

“A hundred and fifty-three,” said Mahout. “Libraries, military establishments, hospitals. Financial houses. A few factories. All connected with the Savage Foundation. If we look thoroughly, we’ll find Savage.”

“You’re sure you haven’t missed any?” Ash asked.

“I never forget.”

“How long’s that going to take?”

“As long as necessary,” said Parvati. “Fifteen million people live in this city, Ash. We need to be patient.”

“And what about the Koh-i-noor? Where is it?” The small silk bag had disappeared.

“Under here.” Parvati tapped her nails on the stone lid of the tomb.

“Wait a minute,” said Ash. He looked up at the big elephant. “Do you know what type of aastra the Koh-i-noor is? Does anyone around here know?”

Mahout shook his big head, his ears flapping back and forth across his face.

“Nobody? At all?”

“Sorry, Ash,” said Parvati. “Look, the Koh-i-noor is nothing but bait. Bait to get Savage. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

It just didn’t make sense that no one knew what the aastra could do. The Koh-i-noor was the most famous diamond in the world, and the rakshasas must have come across it in one of their past lives. “Didn’t you serve with the maharajah of the Punjab? Didn’t he own this?”

“No one knows how to awaken the diamond, Ash. Why can’t you let it go?”

“Isn’t it worth trying to find out what it does? It could help.”

“What’s the point? That’s not important.”

“Not important? Gemma died for it.”

“If you want me to say I’m sorry again, then listen: I am sorry,” Parvati said. “But there’s nothing anyone can do about her death. Don’t distract yourself, and get over your guilt and failure. We all fail, but we need to move on. Forget her.”

Forget her? Of all the wrong things to say, that was the most wrong. “Yes, and I know it means nothing to you, but this is
Gemma
we’re talking about. She had family, she had people who loved her. She wasn’t like you.”

The temperature dropped about twenty degrees. Parvati threw Ash an exceedingly dirty look and marched off with Mahout right behind.

Khan let out a long puff. Ash hadn’t noticed him lounging at the entrance. “Beautifully handled, Ash.”

“I thought you’d gone off for a walk.”

Khan grinned. “And miss all the fun? I’ve rarely seen Parvati this upset.”

“Why’s she so upset?” Ash punched the stone. “
I’m
upset. I’ve come all the way out here and there’s something she’s not telling me.”

“About what?”

“The Koh-i-noor.” It was an itch he couldn’t reach. Why did no one know what sort of aastra it was? Why did no one want to find out? Savage was after it, so it had to be important. “I don’t know what’s got into Parvati.”

“At some point replay that conversation in your head and you’ll know. Despite being a killer, a demon princess and the heir to Ravana’s throne, Parvati, you may be surprised to hear, is rather sensitive. I suppose it’s her human half.”

“She’s four thousand years old. She’s seen kingdoms come and go. Time means nothing to her.”

“The years pass just as slowly for us as they do for you. She’s been lonely for most of those four millennia. Lonely and homeless.”

“She’s never had a home? Why not?”

“What palace could equal that of Lanka?” said Khan. “The courts of the Moghul emperors were no better than cow sheds compared to the kingdom of her father. Never bothered me, because I’ve always preferred the jungle, but I think Parvati still misses it.”

“What happened to it?”

Khan shrugged. “What else? It was destroyed. If you humans are good at one thing, it’s wiping out civilisations. It’s amazing you’ve lasted this long, given your passion for genocide.”

“She hated Gemma, that’s for certain.”

“She envied her,” replied Khan. “For all the reasons you so indelicately pointed out. Family. Being missed. Being loved. No one’s said that of Parvati. Her reputation prohibits that sort of thing.”

“What about you? You’re as old as her.”

“Me? Firstly, tigers are solitary creatures. Secondly, hey, look at me.” He puffed out his chest and flexed his biceps. “Do you honestly think I have problems getting company?”

Ash laughed. “You really are totally in love with yourself, aren’t you.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Think I should say something?” Ash asked. “To Parvati, I mean?”

“She’d do anything for you, you know that, don’t you?”

“I didn’t ask her to.”

“Friends shouldn’t need to ask.”

Ash came up and sat down beside Parvati at an overgrown, weed-filled fountain somewhere in the heart of the graveyard. Heavenly nymphs –
apsaras
– forged from bronze, held out empty jugs and cups, their empty nozzles choked with foliage and rust.

Ash smiled. Parvati did not.

Ah, not going to be as easy as all that
, he thought.
This is what you call your classic
‘
awkward moment’.
Ash needed something to break the arctic levels of ice. Facing a demon horde or dealing with some ‘fate of the world in the balance’ scenario would be easier than trying to apologise to Parvati. Where to begin? With the truth.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said.

“Yes. You are.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree so immediately.”

“What was I meant to do, then?” said Parvati.

“Listen, Parvati. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. You know I didn’t mean it. It’s just, Gemma’s dead because of me. That’s not what it was meant to be like. Y’know, being a hero and everything. Heroes don’t fail.”

“Then you’ve got a lot to learn about being a hero. Heroes fail more than everyone else.”

“That doesn’t make sense. At all.”

“You fail. You try again. And again and again. Keep on failing until you finally succeed. That’s what being a hero is. But some things can’t be fixed, and you need to learn to live with them and move on.”