Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi

by Gary Gygax

  She rolled onto her side and looked into his green eyes. "That's the first time you've been nice to me since we began this mission, Setne."

  "I know, and I'm sorry." He sighed. "Even though I might not show it in other ways, undertaking this case has made me nervous, put a strain on me—not that I'd have it otherwise. I love such mysteries, and I want to solve this one. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't really mean to take out my anxieties on you . . . but I do."

  Rachelle put her arm around him. "That's because you and I are as close as two people can be, because you love me, don't you?"

  "Yes, it Is so, and I do my dear, I do," he murmured as he moved to face her and return her embrace.

  In the late afternoon, Setne ventured downstairs and ordered a second meal sent to them. It was another spicy and exotic dish, but both enjoyed it and finished the whole of the bowl and the rice which accompanied it. They conversed a little while after Rachelle set the used tableware outside their door in the dimly-lit hallway. Then the priest-wizard began sorting through what he had brought along, handing Rachelle her own items for her inspection. The wondrous little coffer produced such things as his staff, which he kept out, and her archery equipment and armor, which were replaced after she was finished caring for them.

  Rachelle made a sling bag out of a large piece of cloth meant to be a wrapped garment for her to wear. Inside that went a few other native clothing items, a little pot, kettle, bowls, and cups. She even had packets of spices, sugar, salt, and small sacks of rice, lentils, and beans. "This is like carrying full field gear," she told the magister when she hefted it. "Toting this around will certainly help keep me in trim." It was plain she didn't really like this part of their journey at all.

  The wizard-priest had his own similar carrying bag of cloth, with an assortment of things likely to be typical of an actual pilgrim on the roads of Hind. The coffer nestled between bottom layer and top so as to be unobtrusive. The staff now looked like a stout, natural one cut from a tree. "I know, don't tell me. This is a lot of rigamorole to go through just to go through the gyrations of solving a crime and recovering the stolen goods in a far-off place. I agree. It seems we've been through too many similar exercises for like reasons in the past. Just remember that this time it was you who wanted the gift and the reward for success. Don't blame me!"

  "Well, I do. You're the one who's supposed to be so smart as to avoid such obstacles." Rachelle laughed softly as she added, "So that's that. For punishment you'll have to guarantee solving the case and getting me the pieces to complete the jewelry ensemble."

  "I could have done this alone."

  "Not on your life, Inhetep. Not after that fiasco in On!"

  The magister winced, recalling the beautiful Xonaapi and her prodigious expenses—his expenses, as it turned out to be. "You chose to be absent."

  "And I don't so choose here and now. Now promise!"

  Of course he promised. He was glad to have her and knew Rachelle would be there if it cost her everything she possessed. "I'll even throw in a bauble of my own," he added at the conclusion. "Frankly, I don't think I'd be half so successful without your assistance."

  At that Rachelle smiled and returned to practicing being' a Hindi pilgrim. Setne brought forth a handful of magickal paraphernalia. Soon he would have to make the two of them seem to be common folk of this land bound for the Punjab, perhaps 700 miles distant as a bird flew, closer to a thousand as the winding roads of this land went. The prospect was a bit daunting, even with heka to aid them. If anything requiring strong energy and potent castings were required, that would be as visible as smoke rising from a fire. Whether the observer were merely some state practitioner or part of the group responsible for the theft, it would mean trouble, possibly worse, for Rachelle and him. Governments afraid of spies, or a gang of powerful thieves bent on more than robbery, each offered only hazards. Better to play off lost time against likely capture, danger, or death. Those would come of their own accord as things progressed. No sense in asking for them sooner than need be.

  Inhetep was determined to arrive in Delhi unbeknownst to any, maharajah and miscreants alike. Then he and Rachelle could do some special investigative work before announcing themselves and formally accepting the commission of Sivadji Guldir, handed down to them from his famed Peacock Throne. The gift and promised reward were far too grand for what had been stolen. More was at stake, and without knowing the true scope of it all, there was no chance of success. It would be like playing a game without being told the rules regarding victory.

  He didn't want Rachelle to worry about all that, so he played little pranks, put on a front, and went along as if this were just another of his strange and bizarre cases. Perhaps it was, but the magister felt uncertain and uneasy, as he had from the start. Perhaps he shouldn't have allowed her to influence his judgment as she had. Rachelle's eagerness to go to Delhi, her obvious desire for the fabulous necklace, a gift he would have returned if he hadn't agreed to take the case, made him undertake the mission. Now he was hoping he wouldn't truly regret it, more for Rachelle's sake than his own!

  Ruminating thus, Setne fell asleep, half sitting, half lying on the bed. At a little after three, his inner alarm roused him. He arose so silently that even the amazon's light slumber was undisturbed. It took a little while to work the cricks out of neck and back, but before long the magister was feeling wide awake and fit. What he needed was at hand, and with a few gestures and sound he accomplished the laying of the castings required. That done, he put his things in order and stepped to the bed.

  "Come on, lazy girl," he said in a soft voice. "It is time dedicated pilgrims were taking to the road!"

  —— 5 ——

  ON THE 1NDORE ROAD

 

  It promised to be a hot day as usual. The dawn brought only the faintest of breezes with it, a puff which barely stirred the vapors which had risen from the waters to climb up over the city, layer by layer, through the night. Fog from the harbor, smoke from thousands of little fires, and unknown exudations created the covering. At least it cooled things off for a little while. This duty wasn't bad. He'd be back to the barracks when the sun was hottest, eat the midday meal, and then get to sleep until the evening mess call. The whole night thereafter would be dedicated to drinking, and maybe a little gambling or sport with the painted women who waited in the Street of Lust.

  "You smile?" growled his fellow guardsman. "You like herding peasants in and out of the gate?"

  In fact, the soldier didn't like that at all, but he laughed at his comrade. "Better than labor detail—or duty on the frontier!"

  The other guardsman was going to make some reply, but just then the under-officer barked a command. They swore under their breaths but moved with several others. Soon the heavy bar was lifted, and the twin panels with their long iron spikes, set so as to keep elephants from shoving them inward during siege, swung back. The Kurla Gate of Bombay was now open. Everyone was busy for an hour after that. As usual, a mob of vendors and farmers wanted to enter, a river of similar peasants stood impatiently waiting to leave the city. By shouting, shoving, and swearing, the guardsmen kept the two streams of humanity from flowing together in an impossible jam, directing one current to the left, the other right.

  "That's the opening rush," the surly soldier spat as the throng dwindled into scattered groups and lone individuals.

  "Now you know why I smiled," his fellow guard said. "When the gate shuts this evening, I'll be rising from my bed, ready for . . . anything!"

  The other soldier ruminated, spat, and said, "You'll probably get the pox."

  By then the magister and Rachelle were a mile distant, walking along the dusty road at a steady pace meant to eat up miles without tiring them. Both were used to heat, of course, because they were /Egyptian—Rachelle by adoption, but that of no consequence for she had endured nearly two decades of the blazing desert clime. Neither appeared to be from Pharaoh's Triple Kingdom, naturally. The castings so carefully laid
by the wizard-priest had altered their looks entirely.

  The young amazon was now brown of skin, her blue-black hair straight instead of curled in ringlets, her height diminished a little. Anyone who knew her, though, would otherwise have recognized Rachelle, thinking perhaps that this Hindic beauty was a half-sister with uncanny resemblance to her pale-skinned sibling.

  On the other hand, Inhetep was totally unrecognizable. Instead of six and a half feet of height, he was now more than a head shorter. His head was still hairless, but it was now the color of light mahogany, and his eyes were dark hazel, not bright green. He was clearly a man of the South, Madras, perhaps in Hind. Of good caste, but no Brahman. His garments were unremarkable but not stained or shabby. Thus reasoning, any observer would identify him as a Vaisya, confirm that by what he carried and his woman. Both had relatively large bundles with them. Ergo, they were merchant and wife traveling to sell goods in distant towns or else combining that work with a holy pilgrimage.

  Several shabby wanderers eyed the two speculatively, then passed by or decided not to follow them. The merchant was big, nearly two spans above five feet height, and he wasn't fat.

  His eyes were alert, and he seemed to move with purposeful strength. There was also that heavy staff in his hand. Better to seek easier pickings elsewhere than test that one.

  Rachelle's laughter was a bit forced. "Have you seen them, Setne?" she said in low voice when no other travelers were nearby to see her speak. "The skulking footpads and robbers?"

  "How could I miss them?" The magister had, after all, been the bane of criminals for longer than she had lived.

  "They fear you—you as a man, Setne. Not as a magister, not as a heka-bender, only because of your strength and your staff!"

  "So? What's unusual about that?"

  She didn't reply. He had a point, but it made Rachelle feel useless. After all, it was she who usually threatened off such casual would-be attackers with her bearing and sword. Then she turned to him and smiled. "You could be a fine warrior if you chose to be, Setne Inhetep!"

  "Pish! What would I want to do that for? That sort of thing is your purview, Rachelle—I mean, Manasay" He said it so the middle syllable was stressed in proper Hind fashion. "And stop calling me anything other than Chandgar."

  "I am not to call you anything, Setne. I, Manasay, am under a vow of silence. Call yourself Chandgar." She giggled.

  "Then remain silent," Inhetep grumbled. "How far have we gone?" he queried as he glanced around to see if any others were near, might have caught a scrap of their exchange in /Egyptian. None were close, and there seemed to be no large groups ahead or behind.

  Rachelle didn't respond to his question. Inhetep was about to repeat himself, then remembered what he had just commanded. She looked at him with a bland expression, but there was triumph in her dark eyes. Setne twitched a brow to let her know he was merely speaking rhetorically. Then he announced, "This is not the path for us, Manasay, and whenever we come to a main thoroughfare heading off to the right and proceeding northward, we will follow that road. We need to find fellow pilgrims traveling to the Punjab!"

  It was several hours later before they came to such an artery. A knot of people were preparing a meal, shaded from the full sun overhead by a massive old banyan. The magister headed for that group, Rachelle following a bit behind him, eyes downcast. When he found a clear spot close to the others he stopped. "There is a good place for you to cook us our lunch, Manasay. You will need to search for some wood to make the fire, so hurry up. If I am still conversing with the other good folk here when it is ready, simply bring my bowl to where I am."

  Rachelle nodded and seemed to work dutifully as he commanded, but Inhetep caught the look she shot him before she bent over her bag to extract her utensils and ready the rest. Smiling with more than artificial joviality, he walked to where five persons were circled around eating. "I beg your pardon, good travelers. My name is Chandgar. My wife and I have come from far away on a pilgrimage. She is barren, but we seek the blessings of the goddesses to change that. Are you by chance journeying to the Five Sacred Rivers?"

  "All the way to the Punjab? No, friend Chandgar, not us. I am merely a merchant, a buyer of trees for fine lumber. I guess you are likewise of the Vaisyas, no?" Inhetep nodded, saying he was a minor dealer in medicines and amulets. The man nodded, having no particular interest in that line, but friendly still. He introduced his son, his son's two wives, and then his manservant. "We go but a few leagues, you see, to set up an office in Igatpur. Come, though, get your spouse and join us now. My son's wives love to gossip."

  "I regret to say that my dear wife, Manasay, has taken a vow of silence until her loins produce a son. She is no company whatsoever, poor thing. I, however, am most anxious to have conversation. Did you know that I have always loved fine wood?"

  Eventually Rachelle brought his bowl of onions and lentils to where the magister sat listening in what seemed rapt attention to the lumber buyer and his son as the two told stories about buying trees, the rowdy crews hired for the felling and transportation of them, elephants at work, dishonest sawmill owners, and still more. "Ah, yes. High time, for I am famished." He patted the ground, motioning to her. "Do not be shy, Manasay, come sit here with my new friends. I am learning much." Although Rachelle couldn't understand a word he spoke, his gestures were plain. She brought her own serving of food and sat next to him.

  The younger wood merchant's wives looked at Rachelle-Manasay, found her altogether too beautiful, and shot surreptitious glares at her. Rachelle ignored them, trying to make sense of the strange-sounding conversation of the men. IH have to learn Hindi, she vowed to herself. I just know he's saying absolutely horrific things about me, she thought as the two natives laughed heartily in response to something Setne had told them. Even gossiping with those cows would be better than sitting here like a lump! Sit in silence she did for a full two hours, though, unable to guess the meaning of more than a few of the constantly repeated words. Then the magister stood up, pulled her to her feet, and pointed. She stalked to the place their things were, gathered her bundle, and waited.

  "We go with this company to a town up in the hills. Tonight we camp outdoors, I am told. Tomorrow by sundown we should be in

  Igatpur," he said softly, speaking in ./Egyptian. "You're doing fine. Keep up the good work. When we arrive in town, well be on our own again. Then I can use a portal to jump us ahead."

  Rachelle snapped, "Fine. Fine for you! Are you having fun playing the big man?" Then she lost her irritation. "Sorry, Chandgar, it is just tiresome not to be able to understand anything, let alone having to remain silent."

  "Oh. Of course. I can fix that, although youH still not be able to speak." Without haste, the wizard-priest pulled out several little folded bits of colored cloth, each of a varying hue. He handed her one of brown. "When nobody is looking, unwrap that. It's a talisman which will make the Hindic words sound like ./Egyptian to your ears. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but I forgot in all the confusion."

  With great pride in herself for exercising restraint, Rachelle merely smiled and accepted the cloth. Only after a few deep breaths did she then say, "Thank you, Setne. And was the luncheon all right?"

  "Well, my dear, you aren't very much of a cook, but that isn't why I love you, is it? You know, I feared that darkening your complexion and giving you straight hair would detract from your good looks, but now that I've grown more accustomed to it, I believe you are prettier than

  ever. Come on now, we must keep up with the others."

  She shouldered her bag, smiled, and walked quickly to catch up. He was, after all, the magister. If he had added the last bit to placate her, Rachelle didn't care. She knew it was true. . . .

  Because she was able to hear what was said as if the speakers were using /Egyptian, Rachelle managed the balance of the day's long trek without being irritated and bored. They found a place to sleep that night: a little patch of grass at the edge of the fire's light, just far enou
gh from the two dozen other travelers to be quasi-private and close enough for mutual protection in case of bandits or prowling tigers. They were able to converse in whispers after the others had settled down upon their mats and fallen into a sometimes not-too-quiet slumber.

  After an exchange of trivial matters between them, Inhetep said, "Tell me what you think."

  "About the folks around? Our impersonation? I'm not sure what you mean, Setne. I do believe that it Is going as you'd planned, and nobody suspects we're not actually natives."

  "No. Not that. What do you think about the missing jewels?"

  That gave her a moment's pause. "I haven't considered them recently."

  "Yes, you have," the wizard-priest contra-dieted in gentle voice. "Only you haven't done so consciously. Just relax and say what comes to mind."

  Rachelle started to protest, then relaxed. She turned her thoughts to the stolen crown jewels. "The maharajah shows great concern that there's more to it than the monetary loss."

  "Are you sure? After all, any set of baubles sufficient to rate as crown jewels when bedecking a monarch seated upon the gem-encrusted Peacock Throne must be grandiose indeed," Inhetep retorted. "In fact, I am given to understand that there's a hyacinth the size of a pullet's egg atop the crown, and a jacinth nearly as big set in the orb—plus all the usual diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, sapphires, and the like."

  "There are six pieces in the set," Rachelle told him in response to that. She ticked them off for him, "The crown, the scepter, the orb, the collar, the girdle, and the ring. Not only are there magnificent corundum gems and the rest, Setne. There are elemental stones included—one big empyrium, a pair of perfect asylphars, four mahydrols, and three matched terrionds. Grandiose indeed, and priceless!"

  "That was incisive! I knew I could count on your intuition to help me along. But how do you know so much about his lost jewels?"