The Place of Dead Kings (34 page)

‘Village?’ Jack stood up straighter. ‘We need to get to the Place of Dead Kings, remember?’

‘Village first.’ Cormac grasped the sleeve of Rao’s coat. ‘You come village, Great Shee. You see Chief. Then go Place of Dead Kings.’

‘Hold on, Cormac.’ Jack stepped over and stood beside Rao. ‘We thank you for your hospitality, but we have to get a move on. The Demon has our friends.’

‘Aye.’ Cormac tugged harder at Rao’s coat. ‘Village is on way. Village first.’

‘I don’t think we have much choice,’ Rao said to Jack. ‘Sounds as though this village is in the right direction anyway.’

Jack sucked on his teeth. He didn’t like the idea of a delay, but they had to rely on the Mar to find Saleem and Parihar now. It might take him half a day or more just to locate the Cattans’ sattva trail again, if he even found it at all.

Perhaps he could tell Rao to insist on being taken to Mahajan immediately? But he wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. For the moment the savages were in awe of Rao, but he didn’t want to push things too far.

He nudged the snow with his boot. ‘Very well. The village first. Then the Place of Dead Kings. But we must go quickly. There’s no time to waste.’

The Mar didn’t run, they flew, darting, gliding and bobbing as deftly as swallows. They took giant strides, their feet instinctively finding the flat and stable patches of ground. They slipped around boulders and trees, leapt over rabbit holes, and dodged gorse bushes. Their feet kicked up clouds of snow and their cloaks fluttered behind them.

‘Shiva.’ Rao puffed and wheezed as he jogged beside Jack. ‘How do they keep going like that?’

The Mar were more than fifty yards ahead again – Jack and Rao had continually fallen behind during the three hours they’d been travelling.

Rao stopped, bent over and tried to catch his breath. His face was red and perspiration speckled his forehead despite the chill in the air. ‘Can’t go on.’

Jack paused and called to the Mar. ‘Hey! Wait!’

The Mar turned and came loping back. Their legs slipped gracefully in and out of the snow. Jack was amazed that they wore no hose, and although their naked skin was in constant contact with the snow, the cold didn’t seem to trouble them at all.

‘What problem?’ Cormac asked.

‘The Great Shee wants to rest,’ Jack said.

Cormac glanced at the gasping Rao and frowned.

‘The Great Shee needs to think about a few things,’ Jack said quickly. Maybe it wasn’t good for a shee to look weak.

Cormac nodded, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. The Mar squatted on their haunches, resting their spears beside them. Jack noted that although the weapons were basic, they had steel tips that looked as though they could do plenty of damage.

Cormac fiddled with the amulets hanging about his neck. Jack had already noticed that the Mar wore many of these charms, including wooden crosses woven with coloured threads, metal and bone figurines, clumps of dried herbs and white quartz pebbles. When they were resting, the Mar constantly fingered these necklaces and muttered what seemed to be prayers under their breaths.

Jack slung the knapsack to the ground and sat on a rock. He still had the scimitar jammed into his belt, but he’d put the knife and both pistols in the bag. The firearms were useless at the moment as neither he nor Rao had any bullets left.

He drank from the canteen and handed it to Rao, who now had no hesitation in gulping down some water.

When Rao looked sufficiently rested Jack said, ‘How far is it to the village, Cormac?’

‘Not far,’ Cormac replied.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. It was tricky to get the right answers out of the savages at times. ‘How far exactly? How long will it take us to get there?’

‘By the time sun over there.’ Cormac pointed to a spot a little above the mountains to the west.

‘Late afternoon. We should get going again, then. The Great Shee is ready.’

Cormac frowned, glanced at his comrades, opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. He fidgeted with the wooden cross about his neck. ‘Great Shee wants leave now?’

‘Is that a problem?’

Cormac toyed more feverishly with the cross, the other amulets clinking as they knocked against each other. He nodded over Jack’s shoulder. ‘But crow is there.’

Jack turned and saw a crow sitting in the branch of a twisted tree about thirty yards away.

‘Crow bad sign,’ Cormac said. ‘We wait for sun in middle of sky now.’

‘Midday?’ Jack squinted up at the sky. Noon was about half an hour away. ‘We have to wait until then before we move? Because we saw a crow?’

‘Aye. Must wait. Otherwise bad luck. Much bad luck.’

Jack exhaled sharply and glanced at Rao, who shrugged and said, ‘I could do with a longer break, to be honest.’

Jack grumbled and took another gulp from the canteen. Another delay. And all the while the Cattans were drawing closer to Mahajan’s hideout – if that was even where they were headed.

A shaft of pain jabbed his chest and he winced, hunched his shoulders and did his best not to show the others he was suffering.

At noon, they finally set off again. As before, Cormac led the way, his comrades running and leaping beside him. Jack and Rao did their best to keep up, but continually fell behind. The hot sun blazed in Jack’s eyes and his undershirt stuck to his sweating back. But at least the snow was melting, which made the going easier.

Cormac, noticing that Jack and Rao were unable to keep up the pace, called frequent rest stops. At around three o’clock he announced that the village was nearby and sent two of his comrades on ahead.

They pressed on, the snow melting further and leaving patches of ground completely clear. They ran down to a narrow river, where Cormac paused, mumbled a prayer and crossed each of them three times.

‘What’s all this about?’ Jack asked.

Cormac gestured at the river. ‘Water monster lives there. Lord will protect.’

Jack shot a look at Rao, who raised his eyebrows. Jack was used to a certain amount of superstition. His own countrymen believed in signs, omens, witches and black magic. But talk of water monsters was something from the distant past. Not even the most gullible in Shropshire believed in those any more.

And he knew all of this would be even stranger to Rao. The Captain was fresh from a life of luxury in Rajthana, where he’d been surrounded by the miraculous avatars of the siddhas. Now he’d been dropped right into the middle of a tribe of primitive people living in the wilderness.

They waded across the river and struck off across a plain. The shadows lengthened, dusk spread across the sky and finally they crested a hill and saw twinkling lights beneath them.

‘Village.’ Cormac tugged at Rao’s sleeve. ‘Come.’

As they jogged down the slope, Jack could make out a collection of around thirty huts huddled in an oval-shaped bowl. The buildings looked similar to the shelter they’d spent the night in, but these were larger and better constructed. The stone blocks had been chiselled into more regular sizes and the roofs were topped with well-tended turf. Smoke seeped through holes and tangled into the night. Light spilt out through simple doors made of branches and twigs.

The snow had largely melted or been cleared from the village, apart from where it clung to a few rooftops.

Jack heard the villagers before he saw them. They were chanting in unison, their voices sailing up into the dark.

Cormac led the way through a stand of trees and over the lip of the bowl. And then Jack saw around a hundred and fifty Mar spread out in a semicircle on the edge of the village. They were swaying and clapping in time as they sang, all of them grinning, their teeth brilliant white in the dark. The women’s tunics reached to their ankles, while the men’s stretched to their knees. Over these, they wore the usual shaggy cloaks – except for the children, who were wrapped in blankets.

As Rao trod out of the darkness, the Mar suddenly stopped singing and gasps rippled through the crowd. They all stared wide-eyed at the Great Shee. Rao coughed, shuffled his feet and fidgeted with his sleeve.

A man carrying a spear in one hand stepped forward from the gathering. He appeared to be at least sixty years old, and had white hair, a large beard and a slight limp. But despite his age, his arms and chest rippled with muscles. He wore a woollen cloak – with blue and purple stripes – which was secured at his neck by an ornate silver brooch.

He stopped around ten feet from Rao and Jack, bowed slightly and then spoke in Gaalic.

‘This Chief Domnall mac Giric vic Cormaic vic Arcill,’ Cormac said. ‘He welcomes you to village, oh Great Shee with the brown skin and the eye that can see far.’

Rao cleared his throat, glanced at Jack, then looked between Cormac and Chief Domnall. ‘I thank you for your kind welcome.’ He pressed his hands together and bowed slightly. ‘Namaste.’

Cormac translated for Domnall, who gave a broad grin. One of the Chief’s eyes went moist and gleamed in the dim light. He stamped his spear excitedly in the ground a couple of times.

Next Jack heard a wail. The crowd parted and a hunched figure shuffled forward. It was an ancient woman with thick lines on her face and a swaying wattle beneath her chin. Her hair was wiry and hovered about her head like brambles, while her eyes glinted deep within folds of skin. About her neck rattled numerous amulets and charms, one of which was a large brass cross that was scratched and ingrained with dirt.

Using a gnarled branch as a staff, she hobbled slowly towards Jack and Rao, muttering, wailing and intoning in turn. Finally, she paused in front of Rao and looked up. She shut her eyes, breathed in deeply, nodded, opened her eyes again, and then began chanting in a monotone. She shuffled in a circle about Jack and Rao, crossing herself regularly.

‘This seer,’ Cormac said. ‘She blessing and asking Lord for your happiness.’

Rao rubbed his moustache and scuffed the toe of his boot in the ground. ‘Very kind, I’m sure.’

The seer completed three circuits, then raised her hands and gave a loud ululation. The crowd cheered, clapped and broke into song again. Now, all formality seemed to disappear, and the Mar rushed forward and pressed themselves around Jack and Rao. They reached out to touch the Captain, jostling him a little.

‘Hold on.’ Rao glanced at Jack, alarm in his eyes.

But the Mar took no notice of him. Chanting and laughing, they grasped him and lifted him up on their shoulders.

‘What are you doing?’ Rao looked about wildly. ‘Careful there.’

Jack felt hands slip under his arms and he too was wrenched up into the air and supported by numerous shoulders. Both he and Rao were carried forward as if they were sitting in litters, the Mar singing, dancing and clapping all around them.

‘Hah.’ Rao’s face split into a grin. He began laughing. ‘Extraordinary.’

Jack found himself smiling too. The Mar’s joy was infectious.

He bobbed along on the sea of people, catching glimpses of huts and byres containing black cattle and sheep. Hounds barked and leapt alongside the crowd.

He was borne into the centre of the village, where a bonfire blazed in the open space before a large, rectangular building with a thatched roof. To either side of the hut’s doorway stood stone cairns that were topped by strangely shaped, river-worn rocks. Clearly this was an important building – presumably the Chief’s home.

The Mar squatted in a loose circle about the fire. Jack and Rao were lowered and encouraged to sit near Chief Domnall. Villagers scurried back and forth between the open space and a set of smaller fires further off behind a low stone wall.

Cormac sat next to Jack. ‘Chief Domnall very happy. Says feast in honour of Great Shee.’

Jack glanced at the Chief, who was smiling and nodding at the Captain. Jack hoped the Mar would never start to doubt Rao really was a shee. Things could get difficult if that happened. The villagers seemed friendly enough at the moment, but if they found out they’d been tricked they might well kill him and Rao.

Men and women appeared from around the stone wall and carried across wooden bowls containing steaming food. They served the Chief first, then Rao and Jack, and then everyone else. Jack looked down at the bowl. It appeared to contain a pottage of meat, carrots and oats. He tasted a bit and found it bland but hearty enough.

Then he noticed Rao staring at his food and pushing it around with his wooden spoon.

Rao leant closer to Jack and spoke softly. ‘What’s that meat?’

Jack paused. He was still chewing a portion of the meat and suddenly it dawned on him.

It was beef.

‘Lamb, I think.’ Jack waved his hand vaguely.

‘It doesn’t look like lamb. It’s beef, isn’t it?’

‘Might be . . . yes.’

The Chief was frowning and speaking loudly now.

Cormac tugged Rao’s sleeve. ‘Chief asks why you not eat? You not like, oh Great Shee?’

Rao gave a nervous laugh. ‘Of course not.’ He shovelled some food on to his spoon and raised it to show the Chief. ‘Good food. Hmmm.’

Domnall half smiled and stared intently at Rao. Silence spread across the circle and now the rest of the Mar were gazing at the Great Shee. Their eyes gleamed and their skin flickered in the firelight.