The Time Keeper (The Guardians of Time Book 1) (24 page)

May 1767, Bombay, India

A sharp, well-aimed whack behind the ear with an ornate candlestick holder cut short the screams of the corpulent Chamberlain.  His hand instinctively opened as he collapsed to the floor and the parchment scroll he’d been clutching in his sweaty palm fell harmlessly from his limp fingers, safe from the fire he’d been about to throw it in. 

Emilia crouched beside his prone form, holding her breath to prevent inhaling the pungent oils the man was drenched in, and felt for a pulse in the folds of his slick neck – still breathing.  Scooping up the scroll, she rose to her feet and swiftly crossed the stifling room.  She stuck her head carefully around the doorway and searched the corridor.  No one was in sight, but multiple footsteps were approaching at speed from the direction she’d planned to exit.  Damn!

Mentally berating herself for not silencing the Chamberlain earlier, she crossed quickly to the tiny window on the exterior wall.  She thrust it open and took a hasty look around.  The drop down wasn’t far, even for her vertically-challenged self, and while the gap between the window and the building next door was so narrow it was likely only rats used it as a byway, it was nonetheless just big enough for her to squeeze down sideways… hopefully… assuming breathing wasn’t much of a priority.

Since the only other option was to wait for the approaching soldiers and have her breathing cut short for good, she hauled herself up onto the windowsill and twisted awkwardly until she was facing outwards.  Just as she shimmied into the narrow gap, a soldier burst into the Chamberlain’s office, spouting a rapid stream of Indian she didn’t understand but which, roughly interpreted, probably went along the lines of:
Bugger!  Someone’s attacked the stinking Chamberlain; raise the alarm.

Sucking in her breath, Emilia wiggled sideways, trying not to gag on the fetid reek of desiccating rodents and who knew what else.  Her foot squelched on something spongy and a fresh wave of decaying flesh assaulted her nostrils.  She shuddered, but refused to look down as she slowly inched her way down the gap.  Sometimes it was best not to know.

Instead, Emilia glanced back at the window she’d wriggled out of and as she did so a head popped out, followed closely by another.  She froze and slowed her breathing down.  It was already dark, with only a small sliver of moon, and the narrow space between the buildings was darker still.  But if they heard her move she was an easy target, unable even to attempt ducking in the cramped space.

Both soldiers looked right, left, right again, shouted something back into the room and then their heads were gone as quickly as they had emerged.  Emilia released her pent up breath and started shuffling again, wincing now and again as her knees scraped against the rough stone wall in front of her.  At last, she reached the end of the gap and, after checking the way was clear, she stepped out into a bigger alley, further away from her destination than she would have liked, but at least she was alone.

Unfortunately, she didn’t remain alone for long. 

At the end of the alley, a soldier ambled around the corner, cursorily sweeping the area with little expectation… until he caught sight of her.  They both froze, staring at each other – her in dismay, him in surprised anticipation.  Emilia was the first to react, snapping to attention as though her life depended on it – because it probably did.  Spinning on her heel, she sprinted in the opposite direction, darting around the first corner she came to.  Behind her, she could hear excited shouting as the soldier alerted the others to her whereabouts.

There was no time to think about the carefully planned route she’d intended to take; she simply ran, knowing eventually she’d encounter the huge fort wall. 

Emilia raced through the rabbit warren of dank, muck-ridden alleyways of Mahim Fort, arms and legs pumping ferociously.  She ducked and wove around discarded, rotting wagons, stinking piles of waste and the odd, equally bad smelling, drunken soldier as she sought to elude the dozen or so men now on her tail. 

Where was Seb?
  Her eyes searched frantically for him in the darkness, even as she continued on the haphazard route Seb would have no way of anticipating or following.

As she ran, Emilia tore awkwardly at the sari she was wearing, unwinding it until she was finally able to toss the cumbersome fabric behind her.  She tucked the scroll in the waistband of the loose pants she’d been wearing underneath the sari.  It bore the only proof of the child’s parentage and the only evidence of his existence.  Now was definitely not the time to claim that heritage, but one day… one day when he was old enough he might want to know where he’d come from.  One day, he might want to know who had wanted him dead so badly.

The exterior walls of the Fort loomed ahead of her, dotted sporadically with the flickering flames of the torches the sentries used to guide their way along the narrow stone top.  She squinted in the darkness, looking for the crude steps marking the way to the top of the stone ramparts. 

Behind her a blunderbuss fired and she flinched as a lead pellet shattered against the wall just to her right.  A slight smile flickered across her face in appreciation of the inaccuracy of weaponry in the eighteenth century.  If it had been a modern shotgun firing, she would have been dead.

Finally finding what she was looking for, Emilia hopped nimbly up the first few stone steps, her fingers trailing lightly against the rough stone wall to keep her balance.  She glanced down.  There were soldiers everywhere, bursting out of alleyways and converging on the wall – word had obviously spread. 

Two more of these early forms of shotgun fired in quick succession, puffs of smoke emerging from their barrels and marking the trajectory of the pellets.  While they might be inaccurate, if enough guns fired in her general direction Emilia was bound to get hit eventually.  But before they had a chance to make impact, the pellets abruptly stalled in mid-air and dropped harmlessly to the ground. 

Emilia grinned and raced up the remaining steps, adrenalin giving her a renewed burst of energy – Seb had clearly made it to their meeting place before her and was warding off the threat from below.

‘Are you okay?  Did you get it?’ he demanded, as she arrived at the top of the wall. 

His mouth was drawn tight and lines of stress radiated from the corners of his eyes as he gave her a quick once-over.  The tension only leeched out of his tall frame when he saw she was unharmed.  Despite his anxiety, the arm holding the baby pressed against his chest was gentle, one large hand cupping the child’s head protectively.  He looked good with a baby, even though she knew fatherhood wasn’t on his agenda –
ever
!  One day she hoped he’d tell her why.

Emilia nodded.  ‘The Chamberlain busted me rifling through his desk and raised holy hell.  I think he woke half the Fort!’  She grimaced.  ‘Which meant I had to knock him out… he’ll have a nasty headache when he wakes up.’

Seb raised an eyebrow.  Emilia merely looked pointedly at the two prone bodies of the sentries lying behind Seb – unconscious but still breathing. 

‘Point taken.  Doesn’t matter now anyway.’  Seb smiled slightly in acknowledgment, his good humour returning.  ‘We’re nearly clear and this little one will be better for it.’

A rock shattered below them and Emilia glanced back down the way she’d come.  Six soldiers were clumsily ascending the steps, cursing loudly as they stumbled in the darkness.  The steps were beginning to show the strain of the increased traffic, small pebbles skittering this way and that, the odd bigger stone dislodging entirely and falling to the hard-packed dirt at the base of the wall.

‘Time to go,’ she murmured.  ‘Do you have a plan for getting down the other side?’

‘We jump.’  Seb shifted the baby to his right shoulder, ignoring the whimper of protest from the tiny mouth nestled against his chest, and held out his left arm to Emilia.  ‘Trust me?’