The Temple Dancer (56 page)

In drier times, the falls came down gently, like a sheer curtain. The trail of
broken rock passed behind the curtain, where the falls had hollowed out a
large chamber. In drier times, it was amusing and exciting to pass behind
the roaring curtain, and to stand in the dark, carved-out rock and see the
sunlight glittering through the water curtain, making a lakh of rainbows.
Yet even in drier times, the falls roared in the chamber so loud that one felt
terror-the way a child feels terror when his father tosses him in the air,
that pleasant terror of knowing that the danger is not so very great.

But now the river above them had crested in a flood, and overflowed its banks, and water poured over the cliff 's edge in a harsh deluge, and seeped
across the haphazard trail of rocks, to make each step treacherous.

Slipper's eagerness would brook no more delays. "I will eat lunch with
Whisper!" he announced. After sending the palkis away, Slipper arranged
things: He himself would go first, with Deoga. Then the nautch girl. Then
Geraldo would lead Lucinda on her horse. Then the guards. Da Gama
made suggestions, but perhaps the falls' roar was too loud.

So they stood at the edge of the falls, the last remnants of the caravan
that had set out from Goa a few weeks before. Da Gama, once their leader,
now bound; Slipper once the butt of many jokes, now in command. "On
the other side is safety, comfort, and justice!" Slipper announced, appreciating his turn of phrase. "A little bath, and then comfort, pleasure, and the
Sultana's hospitality!" His voice was barely audible over the thunder of the
falling water. "Come, Deoga! We two shall lead the way!"

Taking Da Gama's arm in his pudgy hand, Slipper stepped forward.
Singly, the going was difficult, but to go together was nearly impossible.
Slipper lurched one way, Da Gama the other. The overspray from the falls
drenched all their clothes. The path climbed upward, about ten feet over
the surface of the pool below.

"Don't look down, senhor," Da Gama shouted. "We're nearly there!"
The roaring's loudness increased and its pitch grew higher as they approached the water curtain. Slipper's beadlike eyes grew wide, and he still
clung to Da Gama. "Come, Senhor Eunuch!" Da Gama screamed.

It was not like water. It was like stepping into a shower of pebbles, so
fierce was the pounding on Da Gama's head. He stumbled, and fell through
the water. Slipper spilled beside him. "Oh, Allah," Slipper moaned.

They had reached the chamber behind the falls. Here it was dry, and
oddly, the noise of the falls was dampened, though other sounds echoed.
Each heard the other's sighs. "Oh, Deoga, what was I thinking. That was
terrible! I thought I was dead!"

"Help me to my feet, senhor," Da Gama answered.

Slipper lumbered up, and then steadied Da Gama. "I should not have
made you go through bound, senhor," Slipper said, almost weeping. "The
force of it! Who could have imagined!"

"Unbind me now, then, Senhor Eunuch."

"Alas I have no blade! And your bonds are drenched-I'd never get the
knots untied with these fat fingers!"

"No matter. We're nearly through." Da Gama took a moment to enjoy
the place-the huge dark chamber carved by the water from the living
rock; dry, spacious, lit with rainbows filtering through the water curtain
that formed its outer wall. The place had the tangy smell of humid rocks.
"Now we've had a little rest, let's go."

Slipper fell to his knees. "No! I can't go through it again!"

"Forward or back, senhor-the problem is the same. You might as well
go forward! As you say, there's lunch this way." This time Slipper clung to
Da Gama's arm as a bride to a bridegroom. The water smacked them like
wet sacks of sand. A moment later, they stumbled into the arms of the
green-turbaned eunuch guards of the Sultana.

"Look out!" one of them said, nodding to their feet. They had stumbled only a few inches from the edge of the path, and nearly fallen to the
pool below.

Slipper pressed Da Gama in a sideways embrace. "I can't release you yet,
Deoga. Not until the guards have custody of the condemned. Oh dear, senhor, you must forgive me this small insult. I never could have made it
through without you!" Slipper made his way to the river's edge. Water spilled
into the pool, sending a plume of mist into the sun. The eunuch leaned out,
and waved to the others who waited on the other side of the falls. "It's good,
it's good!" They could only see his broad enthusiastic smile.

"I'm next, I suppose," Maya said. Geraldo came forward as if to embrace
her, but she stepped away. She glanced at Lucinda, who stared with lifeless
eyes at the rushing waterfall. Why must I go alone? she thought. Ah, she
answered herself, at least I won't be going with him. She stared down at the
mists rising fifteen feet below. At last she gripped her shoulder bag, said her
mantra, and drove forward.

She didn't expect the power of the falls. The water drove her to her
knees and poured upon her. She gasped for breath. I'll drown here, she
thought. With all her will, she managed to stand, but the water came from
everywhere. She stumbled right, left. Somewhere the falls must end! She
pushed on, but stumbled ever deeper into the water, never out of it. Again
and again she fell to her knees. She began to choke.

A hand reached through the water. A moment later she found herself
sprawled on the rock floor of the inner chamber, coughing. At last she managed to look up. "Hello?" she called. "Deoga?" She stood, water poured
from her clothes and hair. "Who helped me? Speak!" She wiped her dripping
eyebrows with her palm. "Bless you, whoever you are!" she cried, when no
one answered. "And bless me while I make for the other side."

Perhaps she was better prepared for the water's weight this time. She
felt as though someone pushed against her back, thrusting her through the
curtain. Then many hands reached out for her, and there was Deoga, laughing. "Quite a view from up here," he said, nodding toward the drop to the
pool below.

"Did you help me in there, Deoga?" she asked. Then she saw that his
hands still were tied.

Someone else had been in the chamber.

On the other side of the falls, one of the Sultana's eunuch guards squinted
through the mists. "Hey!" he called. "What's that on the other shore?"

"What?" Slipper shouted. "Where?" He looked across the pool and
shook his head. "It is nothing. Deoga, do you see something?"

Da Gama peered through the clouds. On the other bank, near an old,
decaying temple, two horsemen had appeared, with long, deadly looking
bows. Maya reached Da Gama's shoulder and whispered to him: "Those
are the men I saw last night!"

Da Gama nodded nearly imperceptibly. Then to Slipper he said loudly,
"They are hunters, I think." But the eunuch guards now took an interest and
peered across the water. "Damn.. . ," he said in Maya's ear above the roar of
the water. "What're they doing over there-on the wrong damned shore?!"

"Well, dearest cousin, it's our turn now," Geraldo said.

From one of his pockets, Geraldo took a large square of tawny waxcloth, wrapped it around his long-barreled pistol, and shoved the package in his belt. Then he took the reins of Lucinda's mare and guided her to the very
edge of the falling water. Geraldo walked backward, tugging the bridle,
leading the mare with calming words. The mare walked on calmly-as
calmly as Lucinda, whose empty expression never changed. At last, with the
roaring waters to his back Geraldo took a breath, and pulled them through
the deluge.

He felt the pelting weight of the water, and for all his blinking could
barely see the horse's head. He gasped for air; he fell to his knees. Suddenly
Geraldo felt someone take the reins from his hands, and pull the mare
through. He stumbled after.

In the scattered rainbow light that filtered through the falls, Geraldo
saw a figure gentling the mare: a tall man, dripping wet but slender and
strong. When he had stroked the mare to calmness, he moved to Lucinda.
He touched her bound hands.

Pathan!

Geraldo scowled as he pushed his dripping hair from his brow and
found his breath. Lucinda's wet clothes clung to her skin, exposing every
contour of her body. Water spilled down her legs and fountained from her
slippered feet. But Pathan seemed oblivious; he merely touched her hands
and searched her eyes.

"What are you doing here, burak?" Geraldo shouted. His words
echoed from the chamber walls.

"I owe a man a favor," Pathan answered, not looking at him. "Now I
shall pay my debt." He wore no turban, and his wet hair hung in dark,
dripping sheets around his shoulders. A puddle had formed at his feet.
Though his eyes never left Lucinda's, his hand stole to the hilt of his curved
sword. With a motion so smooth the mare never stirred, he unsheathed it,
and lowered it to his side.

"What do you mean to do, burak?" Geraldo got slowly to his feet; his
left hand gestured with each word, while his right stole silently toward his
pistol. "You know she is a murderer."

"Yes," Pathan said, still staring into her eyes. "For she has killed me."
With his left hand, Pathan stroked Lucinda's fingers. "I do not dream anymore, nor do I sleep. My days are empty, my nights endless. My only thought
is of her, this murderer. But despite what you say, she brings me life."

Lucinda's eyes stirred, and she looked into her Munna's face, and when
she saw him gazing at her with such devotion, Lucy smiled.

"I ask again, burak. What do you mean to do?"

Pathan now looked at Gcraldo. "I mean to save her from you. You have
done a terrible thing, sir. Her only hope is to run. But now the Sultana and
the Brotherhood will pursue her endlessly, seeking the Dasana fortune.
Lucy will need to hide forever. Never will she know a home, a family. You
have taken from her not just her rightful legacy-you have taken her life."

"Make him tell the truth then, Munna," Lucinda said. "I know what he
did. Let him die for his crimes!"

"It will do no good, Lucy. Dearest Lucy, his lies have sealed your fate,
even if he now confesses. They will ignore it. When has truth ever mattered
to them?"

Geraldo laughed so loud the chamber rang. "He's right, Lucy. Truth is
what the powerful decide. Like now, for instance. . ." Geraldo ripped the
wax cloth from the pistol and pointed its dark barrel at Pathan's heart.
. . This pistola makes me powerful. Now I shall make a new truth-a better truth." Geraldo moved toward the two of them, his eyes bright and his
smile sharp. "Let's see. Jealousy, I think. Yes, the jealous burak cannot
bear to be deserted by a woman, and a farang at that. He hides here, and
cuts her throat. But he hasn't reckoned on me-I shoot him through the
heart. Alas, too late. My dear cousin dies." Geraldo shrugged. "But with
her tragic, unexpected death, she at least avoids condemnation! And so of
course the Dasana fortune now comes ... to me."

He cocked the hammer of the pistola and nodded to Pathan. "So ...
you first? Or her? The order of your deaths means little. My story will be
believed in either case."