The Temple Dancer (65 page)

On her last night in Bijapur, Maya sent an invitation to Geraldo.

He went to the zenana dressed in fine farang clothes, tailored in dark
velvets and dense satins, rich with golden braid. Wall Khan's servants
bowed low when he approached. A eunuch led him through the vizier's
palace, and through corridors lit by a hundred butter lamps in alcoves in
the walls. He opened a set of carved doors, and bowed Geraldo through.

A vast array of silver dishes spread on a muslin sheet in the middle of
the carpet. Incense burned, and a dozen hanging lights flickered through
pierced shades.

In cushions by the feast sat Da Gama, dressed in a dark blue Jamas; to
his right was Maya. She wore a sheer sari of soft silver that glittered in the
lamplight. Her hair was covered, but not her face. Her gold-flecked eyes
shimmered when she saw Geraldo enter.

"Come and sit, Aldo," Da Gama said.

They ate mostly in silence. There was too much to say, so they said
little. Maya presided, offering the delicacies with a practiced grace. Geraldo
stared at her lips, at her hands as they glided through the air. "You are more
beautiful than ever," he whispered. Maya merely closed her eyes.

"I had this made specially, in the manner of farangs," she said at one
point.

Geraldo tried the dish-mutton flavored with spices and much garlic.
"It's like being in Goa," he told her, bowing his head. "You are too kind.
Haven't you tried it, Da Gama?"

"My digestion is not so good these days," Da Gama answered without
looking up. "You finish it."

Maids cleared the dishes and brought sharbats. Da Gama described tomorrow's journey for Maya. Elaborate preparations had been made; even a
decoy caravan.

"Do you fear danger, Deoga?" Maya said.

"Always. You are more valuable than ever now. I've enlisted special
guards."

With the sharbats finished, Da Gama rose. "You young people have
things to discuss, I'm sure. An old man has no place here." He bowed to
Geraldo, and then Maya. "Besides, I need my rest. Ahead of us we have
long journeys."

"Make peace," Maya said to both of them.

So Geraldo rose and embraced Da Gama. "Va com deus, senhor," he
said as he leaned back.

"E com voce," Da Gama answered. He walked out without looking
back, quietly closing the door behind him.

A feeling of anticipation filled Geraldo. His heart began to beat faster,
and he felt heat rising to his face. He loosened the collar of his shirt. "So,"
he said to Maya.

"So," Maya answered. He could not read her face. "Why do the gods
allow wickedness, do you think?"

"Surely you don't mean for us to discuss philosophy?" Geraldo
laughed. Then he burped, and this made him laugh again. "Other subjects
are more pleasant."

"Answer me."

Geraldo shrugged. The mutton sat like a lump in his belly, but he
smiled in spite of the discomfort. "Perhaps the gods themselves are wicked.
Perhaps there are no gods. Maybe we make our own fates. Maybe those
who fear the gods are weak, and those who know the truth are strong."

"Then are you strong, Geraldo?"

Again he shrugged. Seeing her in the golden lamplight, her beauty even
grander than he recalled, set his skin tingling.

"You have killed and robbed. You've cheated your own family."

Geraldo gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I've cheated death as well."

"Yes." Maya moved her hands to the veil that covered her hair. "I
wanted you to see this, you of all persons."

She drew back the veil, and revealed a glittering web of gold and pearls
and diamonds. Against her raven hair, the jewels sparkled like stars in a
black sky. Geraldo gasped and stared. "This is what I am, Geraldo. This is
what has become of the woman you abandoned. Men have fought and even
died to have me."

"You are magnificent," Geraldo choked out.

"You could have had all this, except you wanted more." The golden highlights of her eyes now gleamed like fire. "This is what I wanted you to know.
What you might have had, and what you have lost." Once more she veiled
her head, and the light within the room appeared to dim. "You were a fool."

Geraldo gulped. He had begun to sweat. "I've made up my mind to be
a better man."

"Do it quickly then. And when the tally of your life is reckoned, remember this moment."

Then she stood, as if dismissing him. For a moment Geraldo felt disappointment, and then relief. He was not at his best. His belly rumbled. With
some effort he got to his feet. Maybe he'd drunk too much wine; his head
swam. Geraldo tried to smile. "Business sometimes takes me to the court
of Murad. Perhaps I'll see you." He burped again and tasted bile.

"I do not think so." Maya opened the door, and Geraldo, with as much
dignity as he could manage, set his shoulders and walked through.

"Good night," he whispered. "You've shown me your secrets. I will
not betray you. I will be silent as the grave."

"I depend on it," Maya answered. She looked into his eyes, and he saw
a momentary flash of the girl that he remembered, of the first time he'd
seen Maya's face-beautiful, distant, young, a little frightened. "Geraldo,
do you pray?" she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Then pray now."

The carved door closed before his eyes, and the sound echoed through
the lamplit hall.

Outside the doors of the vizier's palace, Da Gama acknowledged the servants' bows. He stopped for a moment, and sighed, then slowly made his way down the stairs to the torchlit courtyard. He'd just decided to dismiss
his palki bearers and walk back home, when he saw a form emerge from the
shadows.

"Mouse," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might be lonely, Deoga." His dark eyes were wistful.

"You are kind." Da Gama blinked. He hated tears.

Mouse looked up at him. "Why must you be sad? Many people love
you." He lifted his hand to Da Gama's head. "You are a good man. You
must be happy."

Da Gama sighed. "Let's go home," he told the palkiwallah.

In the palki, Mouse laid his head against Da Gama's shoulder. As they
rose into the air, Da Gama took the eunuch's gentle hand in his.