The Temple Dancer (54 page)

"Lucy?"

"Even her, Deoga. I'm sorry to bind you up, for you have been so
courteous to me, but if you decided to help her, who could stop you?
You're much too dangerous, and she must not escape justice."

In her slip, her hair loose around her shoulders, Lucinda walked as one
asleep. With her hands tied behind her, her young breasts were clearly visible against the cotton gauze. The guards leered as they led her to the divan
and bound her ankles.

"What sort of game is this, Slipper?" Da Gama growled.

"Deoga, you surprise me. Should I ignore the murder of my friend?
Maybe he was a farang, but was he not a man?"

"What do you want-money?"

Slipper's lips pursed and he blinked. "I want justice. And I shall have it."

"Let me see Geraldo."

"In time. We have some matters to discuss. Tomorrow I shall send messages to the Sultana. You are lucky, mistress," he now said to Lucinda. "I
could execute you here and now-that is the law. There is no punishment for
murder except death-even for women. But because you are a farang, there
may be implications. Out of courtesy I must inform the Sultana. You Christians, I understand, say prayers? Use your short time well." Slipper gave Da
Gama a sympathetic smile and then left with the guards following.

"Lucy ... this is terrible," Da Gama said, struggling to get closer to her.

"Not so terrible. My life ended long ago." She sniffed but could not
dry her tears. "I welcome death. Which is worse, tell me? Never to taste
love, or taste it for a little while, and then have it disappear?"

"Don't talk of love at a time like this!"

Lucinda looked into Da Gama's face. "Why not. I'll be dead soon.
What should I talk about? Have you never loved, cousin?" Da Gama could not find words to answer. His only thoughts were of escape. But Lucinda
closed her eyes, and more tears spilled. "I was a fool. I hesitated. But my
heart had become his, no longer mine. But when I finally made up my
mind, when I was ready to give up everything-by then it was too late. He
spurned me. He hates me. Now I shall give up everything anyway."

Da Gama pushed closer. "But Lucy..."

"We sleep in many tents, cousin."

Da Gama blinked. "What are you saying, little one?"

"Life is a caravan, and on this journey we sleep in many tents. Tomorrow I shall sleep in a different tent. Why should I care?"

"Who told you this?" Da Gama asked. But Lucy now hid her face and
would not answer.

Da Gama struggled with the bindings on his wrists. Struggling gave him a
little comfort. At least it was something to do.

After a while, Geraldo entered with three guards. He carried a longbarreled pistol, one of Da Gama's. "Take her to Victorio's tent," he ordered.

"Why?" Da Gama shouted.

Geraldo answered without turning-his eyes fixed on Lucinda. "So she
may view the man she murdered, cousin. So she may consider her misdeeds."

The guards strode to the divan-two took Lucinda underneath the
arms, the other grabbed her feet, and like a sack lifted her. "Treat her with
respect, or know my anger," Geraldo said, pointing with the pistol for emphasis. As Lucinda passed, he bent and kissed her mouth. "Oh, cousin," he
sighed, "what a time we might have had."

Lucinda jerked her head and spat. He wiped his face and nodded to the
guards. After they took her out, he collapsed casually onto Slipper's divan.
"She has spirit, does she not?"

"You know she did not poison him," Da Gama growled.

"How insightful you can be, Deoga." Geraldo chuckled. "Of course I
know. I poisoned him myself."

Da Gama's eyebrows flew up.

"Really, cousin, at times you can be quite thick." He toyed with Da
Gama's pistol. "It has taken me years, Deoga. But tonight, my efforts are rewarded." He turned to smile at Da Gama. "To remove both remaining
impediments, both Victorio and Lucinda in one stroke. You must admit the
brilliance, cousin. With their deaths the Dasana fortune is mine."

Geraldo laughed at Da Gama's horrified expression. "Come, Deoga,
you nearly figured it out. Victorio told me that you alone had realized my
proximity to the fortune, how close I had come to being the sole heir. You
can't pretend that you're entirely surprised."

Da Gama struggled with his words. "Maybe. I never reckoned on such
audacity."

"Exactly!" Geraldo leaped to his feet. "Audacity! That has been the
key! `How could any man be so evil?' the good man thinks. `Such a suspicion is outrageous!' So the good man walks smiling to his death with his
eyes open, seeing nothing." Geraldo bowed to Da Gama. "You are the perfect example."

"You think you've won? Then keep your mouth shut and enjoy it.
Don't talk about it, for God's sake!"

"Really, cousin-I need someone to share the fun." Geraldo leaned
back comfortably on the divan, and pointed the uncocked pistol at Da
Gama. "It's dangerous to keep these loaded. What if one went off by accident?" He pretended to shoot and chuckled to himself. "Do you want to
know the best part? Slipper. I thought I'd have to poison the damned girl,
or worse, marry her. Slipper solved all that for me. What a wonderful fool
he is. A word or two whispered in his ear, that's all it took. When I told him
I would be sole heir, and that I would always be his friend, he took the hint.
At least Lucinda's death won't be on my head."

"You trusted Slipper?" Da Gama stared at Geraldo. Geraldo enjoyed
the moment, basking in Da Gama's attention. But the moment passed and
still Da Gama stared. Beneath that relentless gaze, he grew increasingly
uncomfortable. Then Da Gama began to laugh. He laughed when Geraldo told him to stop, even when Geraldo raised the pistol and cocked its
hammer.

"Go ahead," he said. "You're the fool, not Slipper! The Sultana just got
rich tonight, Aldo. Not you."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you know that the property of a murderer is forfeit? Lucinda's fortune will go Bijapur-to the Sultana's privy purse!" Da Gama
gave Geraldo time to work it out. "You should have killed her outright. Your cleverness has been your downfall, Aldo! Tomorrow she'll be condemned of the murder. Tomorrow she loses everything-and so do you."

"But Slipper. . ."

Da Gama smiled. "Slipper will get a tenth part. He'll be rich. Not
you." Geraldo was so pitiable, Da Gama tried not to laugh.

Geraldo's face was white. "I was a fool. My kind heart got the better of
me. She hasn't yet been condemned ... What if I killed her now?"

"You're too late. Slipper's smart. He expects trouble. That's why he restrained me. And even if you managed it, even if no one saw, Slipper would
know it was you. Your fortune's lost."

"There must be a way," Geraldo said blankly.

"Never mind. You're young. You're dangerous. You could become a
settlement man."

With his open palm, Geraldo clapped Da Gama on the ear. With that
he stormed from the tent.

It had only been a few minutes when the tent flap opened yet again, but to
Da Gama the seconds passed like hours. He expected Geraldo again, and
steeled himself for a beating, but instead, it was Maya. Quiet as a whisper
she hurried to his side, and placed her cool small hand on his cheek. "Deoga, what have they done?"

"Have you seen Lucy?"

Maya shook her head. "They would not let me speak with her. It took
all my efforts to be allowed just to come to you. They put her into Victorio's tent. She's tied to the tent pole, and she weeps. It is not good for her
there, Deoga, in the company of a corpse. It will give her dark thoughts."

Da Gama's brow furrowed deeply. "Can you bring me a pistola?"

"No, Deoga. They are locked in a box, and the box has many guards.
They think you are dangerous."

"They're wrong. Not without weapons. A sword maybe? A knife?"

Maya shook her head. "I don't know how to get one. And Slipper
searched me before I came in. It pleased him to be very thorough."

Da Gama shook his head. "I thought it would be Geraldo who searched
you.

"Geraldo watched." She moved her hand to Da Gama's, and pressed it
gently. "Tomorrow we go to the Sultana's camp, and there Lucinda will be
executed. Can we do nothing to help her, Deoga?"

"Nothing," he answered at last. He hesitated, frowning. "No-perhaps
there's a chance for her."

"What?"

"Pathan." Da Gama peered past Maya, considering. "Under the right
circumstances, he might manage. Did you learn what our route will be?"

"They say we shall pass under Gokak Falls. It is a hard route to the Sultana, they say, but much shorter."

Da Gama's eyes lit up. "That is excellent news. Perhaps there is a
chance."

"But how can we get word to Pathan in time? How can we get word to
him at all?"

So Da Gama in a rough whisper told her of the Three-Dot clan, how
he'd seen their shadows following. He told her of the signal Wall Khan had
set. Slowly he hatched a plan with her, slowly built the message that Maya
was to say. He made her repeat it back to him, making sure of every detail.
But even when she said it to his satisfaction, he shook his head. "This is impossible. This can never succeed."

"It must work, Deoga. And even if it does not, still we must try. She
should not die. We must do our best, and leave the balance to the Goddess.
I will make the signal. I will say your words to them. Pathan will surely
save her."

Maya kissed his cheek as one kisses an uncle. Da Gama then remembered his dream of the old woman and ocean of milk, and meant to tell her,
but already she was gone.

The sentries huddled around the fire and at the entrances of the tents
that held the captives. She picked up a flaming branch from the fire. "I'm
going to the bushes," she said quietly.

Once out of easy sight, Maya swung the flaming branch three times,
saying her mantra with each pass.

Was that enough, she wondered? Should I do it again? What are they
like, the Three-Dot clan? What if I bungle the message? Will they do what
I ask, or will they ... ?

She had just begun to spiral into worry when the bushes near her rustled, and two dark men appeared.

Before the dawn broke in the valley of Konnur, Pathan woke from a troubled dream. Though the memory of it faded as a mist, his unquiet
lingered-like a fluttering of wings outside his window, like the coming of
a storm, like the prowling of a wolf. He dressed and belted on a sword.

No one was awake except the old watchman, who sat on the verandah
steps beneath a dozen blankets though the air was warm. Pathan waved at
him and began his own patrol of the grounds.

Some premonition led him down the tree-lined drive. Birds trilled, and
tree toads growled. But there was something else, some other sound just
beyond the reach of Pathan's ears.

Then he recognized it. A faint, low sputter; a horse ridden hard, blowing his lips in the darkness. Slowly, so the steel would not ring, Pathan
slipped his sword from its scabbard. Moving silently from shadow to
shadow he found two horses tethered to a bush beside a low-branched tree.