by Lynn Kerstan
It wasn’t so quiet as he first had thought. Battles raged some distance in front of the coach and behind it. He heard the clang of swords, the stomping of hooves, and rarely, a shriek of pain.
In the coach, they were sitting ducks. He launched himself to the other door, threw it open, and lifted Jessica from the floor. “We have to get out of here. You first. Stay low.”
She scrambled to the opening, turned herself to face inside the coach, and held on to the sill as she lowered herself to the ground.
He heard a cry, saw her fingers clawing at the sill. Just as they lost their grip, he caught hold of one slender wrist. Her other hand waved just within his reach and he grabbed hold of that as well. Bracing himself, he pulled her back inside.
She landed on her knees in front of him. “C-cliff.”
“Stay here.” He wriggled past her and draped himself out the open door, feeling for the ground. About six inches, perhaps eight, separated the coach wheels from the void. “It might be only a gully,” he said. “I’m going out.”
Her hand took hold of his hair and yanked him back. “No. There are gorges here. Hundreds of feet deep. Take care.”
Gorges on one side, rabid snake worshipers on the other. He’d take his chances with the gorge. But first, hedging his bet, he let himself out, his legs dangling into empty air, and swung them up and under until he lay on his back beneath the coach. Then, slithering to the other side, he peered through the spokes of the right front wheel. Directly in front of him, eyes open and a line of blood streaming from his mouth, lay the Gurkha who had ridden beside the driver.
Beyond was a small clearing. He saw a fallen horse and two more men, neither of them moving. One had been holding a torch, and as he watched, it sputtered and went out. Light flickered in the grove where the fighting continued, and from the lanterns on the coach. The gunfire had ceased. No time to reload, he knew from experience. Combat would be with sword and knife, foot and hand.
It didn’t matter to him which side won. He was dead in either case. It was Jessica who required protection now. Shivaji would spare her, if he survived. No certainty of that. If only the coach were not illuminated by those bloody lanterns.
Unwilling to risk exposure to the light, he went back to cliff’s edge, grappled the spokes of the left front wheel with both hands, and lowered his legs over the side. One foot caught something solid and held. He felt with the booted toe of his other foot. Had to let go one hand from the wheel to settle.
A ledge. It seemed firm enough, but he couldn’t be sure until he put his full weight on it. And tested its width. And . . . What the hell. He loosed his other hand from the wheel.
Nothing happened. Safe for now. He’d have to jump to get hold of the wheel again, but he could probably do it. He looked up and saw Jessica looking down at him.
“Wait,” he said. “I’m on a ledge of some sort. Let me see how far it goes.”
She vanished back into the coach.
After a few steps he’d moved beyond the light from the lanterns and had to feel his way, advancing sideways like a crab, his hands pressed to the cliff wall. Fairly soon the ground under his feet began to slope upward. When he reached out, his hands met the trunks of trees. Cover. From here they could slip into the woods.
He paused. Listened. It was pitch-black here. Muffled sounds came from not too far away, perhaps a hundred yards. Hard to tell.
He made his way back to the coach. The gorge, if that was what it was, must have taken a curve he hadn’t noticed while moving upward, as he’d been doing before, into the darkness. This time he detected a glimmer of light that grew brighter and brighter. Then he saw the coach and the open door protruding over cliff’s edge. Something appeared at the door, hung there for a moment, then plummeted down. As he watched, horrified, another life-size figure followed the first.
He hadn’t made out what they were. Didn’t hear them land. Couldn’t bear to imagine what had occurred at the coach while he was gone.
Then Jessica’s head poked out. “Duran?”
“What the devil was that?”
“Never mind. Which way are we going?”
“Move aside.” He sprang up, grabbed hold of the carriage wheel, and pulled himself over the lip of the gorge. Once inside the coach, he placed Jessica with her back to the open door and flattened himself on the floor. “Give me your wrists. The ledge isn’t far down. Let me know when your feet are secure. Are you afraid of heights?”
“Only of falling from them. Hurry. The fighting is coming close again.”
On his instruction and without hesitation, she stepped out into open air and dropped from view. He was halfway out the coach himself, clinging to her forearms with all his strength, more afraid, he suspected, than she was. Then the pull on his arms relaxed.
“I’m on ground,” she said.
“Move a little to the left. I’m coming down.”
When he was beside her on the ledge, he struck out in the opposite direction he’d taken before. Jessica was immediately on his heels. “Not too close,” he advised her. “I may have to make a sudden stop.”
“Why this way? What did you find before?”
“A short path to the top of the gorge. We’d be expected to take that way out, so I’m gambling this is some sort of animal track that will carry us all the way to the bottom. What was it you threw down there?”
“The smocks, wrapped around the blankets and pillows we acquired before setting out for Lord Philpot’s estate. They were stored under the benches. Anyone looking for us might see them and think we’d fallen, as I so nearly did. It rather defeats the purpose, though, if we’re heading that direction ourselves.”
“Perhaps. It was a clever idea and may divert the searchers, if there are any. I’d as soon they fought one another to mutual extermination. Keep moving at a comfortable speed, Jessica. I’m going ahead to see what’s there.”
He should have known she’d stick to him like a burr. But the path, about eighteen inches wide for most of the way, was easy to navigate despite the blackness of the night. The stars were completely obscured now, and the coach lanterns long out of view. Only the two of them, balanced against the side of a cliff, descending to the devil knew where.
After a considerable time, Duran heard the sound of moving water and knew they were close to reaching bottom. They must have traveled at least half a mile. On his own, he’d have taken the next part of the journey in the water to throw off pursuers. But if he was to escape, it could not be in Jessica’s company. He had given his word. What he was to do with her had not disclosed itself, although he’d thought of little else all the way down the cliff.
The stream, when they reached it, was shallow and not very wide. They stopped long enough to drink and splash water over their faces before continuing on, picking their way along the rocky ground. There was room for them to walk side by side, and after a few minutes, hand in hand.
“I saw him fight,” Jessica said, a touch of amazement in her voice. “Shivaji. He came out of the trees and was heading straight for the coach. I nearly went out the other door, gorge or no gorge, but before I could move, I saw two men drop on him from an overhanging branch. Right away, one went sailing through the air. He hit a tree trunk and slid down and didn’t move again. By that time the other attacker was on the ground, Shivaji’s foot on his forehead, a knife at his throat. Shivaji drew the blade across his neck and jumped away from a rider bearing down on him with a saber. Somehow he got hold of the rider and pulled him off, right onto his knife. He impaled him midair, Duran. And he did all of this so smoothly, without discernible effort. It was like watching a dancer.”
He understood her reaction perfectly. He’d experienced much the same when another contingent of Malik Rao’s fanatics ambushed them on the road from Alanabad to Madras. Lashed to his saddle, he could do nothing but watch Shivaji and his well-trained escort beat off a company four times their number with only a handful of casualties. And Shivaji had been at the center of the a
ction, with such effortless skill that Duran had never seen its like. Even Michael Keynes, an unholy terror when unleashed, could do no better than fight him to a draw. Probably not even that.
“Shivaji is a professional killer,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But not an indiscriminate one. He won’t harm you, unless you come between him and his mission.”
“To find the leopard.”
“Yes.” Among other things. “What do you know about this part of the country?”
“Very little. There are gorges, as I told you, and caves. One very large one a little way north of Wells called the Wookey Hole, which I always wanted to explore as a child. Papa agreed to take me there for my birthday when I was ten, but Aubrey talked him out of it. Devils live in caves, he said.” She made a little sound in her throat. “I’m chattering, aren’t I? It doesn’t mean I’m afraid. Not very. But I don’t know what we ought to do next, or where we should go.”
“Nor do I, princess. But a cave would be useful right about now. I need to stash you someplace while I go back and discover the outcome of the battle between evil and worse evil.”
Jerking her hand from his, she came to an abrupt halt. “Why? What has that to do with us now?”
“Nothing, I hope. But I’m not counting on that. Malik Rao’s thugs might not pursue me, but if he has survived, Shivaji surely will.”
“Then we run, if that’s what you want. And if he catches us, we carry on our visits to the collectors. We’re simply trying to elude his enemies. He would expect it.”
They rounded a bend where the stream, once more powerful than now, had carved a grotto in the limestone cliff. Not quite a cave, but it would provide shelter for a time. And if he got safely back, he would be able to find it.
Armoring himself against the objections that were sure to be fired at him, he led her through the small entrance and directed her to wait while he checked for animals and other unpleasant surprises. There were none. The water had scoured out a gourd-shaped enclosure and smoothed the spurs of granite that rose like giant’s teeth from the ground.
“This will do,” he said. “Jessica, I’m going to find out what happened back there.”
“But—”
“You needn’t worry. I’m a dab hand at reconnaissance . . . so long as I’ve only myself to watch out for. This isn’t negotiable, princess. If you follow me, I swear I’ll bind you with your own dress and stow you up a tree. Wait here.” He couldn’t see her, but he could feel the waves of heat steaming off her body. “Will you?”
“Are you going back the way we came?”
“That’s too exposed. It may take awhile to find a good vantage point, so don’t imagine the worst if I’m gone for a considerable time. Above all, don’t come after me.”
“I want to know why this is necessary, Duran.”
“And I will tell you, once it’s done. Promise you’ll remain here. Please.” If it sounded like he was begging, he was.
After a few moments she murmured an ungracious agreement and stomped past him to sit herself on a flat tooth. “Run along, then. I shall remain here until dawn. After that, I shall use my own judgment.”
Chapter 24
Duran had no intention of coming back for her.
Jessica was so certain of it that more than once she considered striking out on her own to find help. But as the hours wore on she continued to huddle in the grotto, arms wrapped around her knees, waiting like Penelope for Odysseus to return. One last act of faith, she supposed, for the sake of a faithless man.
He might, for once, have told her the truth. But no, that wasn’t fair. Everything had changed. Much of what she had failed to believe had proven to be true, or partly so. And all that had seemed so outlandish—the stolen icon, assassins, nizams, cults, the fate of a kingdom—had been sealed in blood and death on the edge of a cliff.
Now, pried from her cocoon, she had no choice but to look at Duran with new eyes. And to defer, however galling it might be, to his judgment. He had the experience she lacked, and the detachment. Unburdened by love, he had no fear of loss, no need to cling, no regard for the future of a marriage taken only for convenience. And he had forces to contend with that she had only just come to recognize.
No more skepticism, then. No more pride. No making demands on him simply to assert herself. No more—she had to face this—burdening him with her unwanted self. Whatever he asked, she would do. She was resolved on that.
She paced for a time. Slipped outside for a drink of water and saw that the sky was clearing. Stars winked in and out of the clouds, bathing the high cliffs in the palest of silvery light. The stream curled like a silver ribbon around black lumps of rock and wispy grasses, and somewhere a night bird was singing.
The knot of fear in her chest began to dissolve. She could be strong. There was, really, no alternative.
She had just returned to the grotto when the ground began to shake. A rumbling sound, like thunder but closer, rolled through the gorge. She pressed her hands against the stone wall and felt it vibrating. Then all went still.
An earthquake? She had never experienced its like. Oddly, she hadn’t been afraid. Not after what she’d already seen that night. But it was frightening nonetheless, in a way that had nothing to do with her.
After a while she went outside again. More stars, more silvery glow limning the gorge, but nothing to say what the thunder had been. Only the whisper of the stream, telling secrets to itself.
If only Duran would come.
He did, when she had made herself stop thinking about him. Hearing her name, she rose from where she had been sitting against the curved wall of the grotto and saw a large black figure filling the entranceway. She wanted to throw herself into his arms.
She didn’t move.
He came to her instead and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “I am sorry I was so long. It was . . . difficult. Are you all right?”
“Perfectly. There was something—a noise, and the ground shook.”
“Yes. I’ll tell you about that. There isn’t much time, princess. Bear with me. And let us sit, if you don’t mind. I’ve been doing rather of lot of climbing.”
She’d had plenty of time to explore the grotto and knew of two stones, reasonably flat and side-by-side. She led him to one of them and took her place on the other, reflecting on the difference in his voice. It was subdued. Resigned, even, with undertones she could not begin to guess at.
“I found another way to where we were attacked,” he said, “but there is nothing there now. Some broken tree branches and grasses, perhaps, and some blood, but the first rainstorm will take care of that. It took awhile to discover where they’d gone. Not far, actually, but there is no road to speak of. All the bodies, of men and horses both, had been taken to another gorge not nearly so wide or deep as this one. I got there as they were being lowered over the side.”
“By whom?” She resented the suspense he created, however unintentional. “Who won the battle?”
“Oh, Shivaji, of course. I counted nine of his convoy helping dispose of the evidence. It wasn’t possible to tell how many of the enemy had been killed, but it’s certain that no prisoners would be taken. Some may have escaped. While I was watching, another Gurkha rode in and reported to Shivaji. No doubt some of the men were dispatched to look for stray snake worshipers and, probably, some sent to look for us.”
“What was the noise, then?”
“When the bodies were all at the bottom of the gorge, several boulders were sent off the cliff. They started an avalanche, and now everything is buried under a small mountain of rubble. No investigation, no questions asked. As if it had never happened.”
“Unless you testified to what you had seen.”
“To what purpose? Had Malik Rao’s zealots carried the day, there would be no one to give evidence of our deaths.” He paused, his breathing unsteady. “Besides, I won’t be here. This is my chance to escape, probably the only one I’ll get, and I’m taking it.”
She let that sink in. It was not unexpected, but she’d thought he would go without telling her. He could be miles away by now. Why had he come back here? “I don’t suppose,” she ventured, “that you would consider giving Shivaji the leopard? Then you needn’t flee to wherever you are going. Unless, of course, you wish to go there.”
“No. I haven’t even a solid notion where it will be. Look, I haven’t wanted to tell you this. Or perhaps I have already done so. I’ve long since lost track of what you know and don’t know.”
There was a rustle of clothing as he shifted position. “A year ago, short a few days, I was sentenced to death. The ruling, I am assured, is immutable. While the nizam ostensibly granted me a period of time in which to find the leopard, turns out it was all a political charade. I was supposed to be secretly disposed of when convenient, and under no circumstances permitted to survive beyond the anniversary of my condemnation. Those were Shivaji’s orders. Leopard or no leopard, Jessica, he will kill me by Sunday week.”
She wished she could see his face. Except for a patch of ghostly light at the entrance, the grotto was sable black. The disembodied conversation shuddered against the curved wall, producing not so much an echo as resonances in a different pitch. She imagined the spirits of the dead men calling out from under the cairn of stones erected by the avalanche. Come join us. She wondered if Duran heard them as well. She thought of all these things because she could not bring herself to speak.
“I’m going to take you back to him,” he said into the taut silence. “We should go soon, before he moves to some other place. He won’t harm you.”
“Nor you,” she said. “I don’t believe he’d arbitrarily execute you, not if you put the leopard in his hands. Perhaps not under any circumstances. Why should he? Who would know, all the way in that little kingdom in the middle of nowhere, what became of you?”
A ragged breath. “It is, for Shivaji, a matter of honor. His family has served the rulers of Alanabad for . . . I don’t know. Several hundred years. They take oaths. They follow orders without question. The divine imperative for them is adherence to duty, whatever the cost. That’s as much as I understand, anyway. And that Shivaji will never veer from a course he believes to be predestined.”
