Abounding Might

by Melissa McShane

  Fletcher gestured to Vajra, Ainsworth, and Dockery to cross the street and conceal themselves. He handed Daphne a length of cloth and whispered, “Cover your hair.” Daphne nodded and wrapped the cloth around her head. It would fall off if she exerted herself, but if that happened, exposing her hair would likely be the last thing she was concerned with. Fletcher guided her to a spot somewhat back from the street that nevertheless had a clear view of it, then disappeared.

  Daphne and Chirayu watched the street as the skies lightened and more people appeared. Chirayu was stouter than the others, but moved lightly on his feet, and he gave Daphne a reassuring smile every few minutes. Daphne smiled back, but felt she would have been more reassured if Fletcher were there. Where had he gone, anyway?

  Then he was back, holding three skewers of meat. “Eat up,” he said, handing them out. “We will look less suspicious if we are not simply loitering.”

  Daphne dug in. She was suddenly ravenous—well, it had been hours since her last meal. She finished eating and sucked the meat juice off her fingers. She would miss the food in India if she were forced to leave. She dropped the skewer on the ground and said, “It is nearly dawn.”

  Fletcher nodded. The crowds had grown while they ate, and although Daphne had little experience with foreign cities, she felt the mood of this one was dark, angry, and anticipatory, like a tiger seeking its next meal. It frightened her, and she made herself push that feeling deep inside, where it could not harm her. She took half a step back and wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her trousers. It must happen soon.

  ~Daphne! Ensign Phillips says to tell you Sir Rodney is bound with his hands before him and led by two very large men, connected to him by ropes. I am warning everyone that he must be separated from his guards if you are to Bound with him.~

  Daphne looked at Fletcher. By his expression, he had just received a similar message. He nodded at the air, then took up a casual pose near the edge of the street. Daphne resisted the urge to shelter behind his broad back and scanned the crowd, though she did not know what to look for—signs that their disguises had been penetrated, perhaps? She listened to the unintelligible conversations carried on around her. If she could convince General Omberlis to permit her to remain in India, she would learn to speak Hindoostani. Yashpal, the punkah-wallah at the Residence, had been willing, but she would not remain in Madhyapatnam. She would have to enlist one of the servants at Lindsey House.

  ~They are approaching,~ Bess said. ~Three guards, then Sir Rodney and his guards, then Amitabh followed by a lot of his men. Ensign Phillips estimates they are two minutes’ march at their current speed from where you wait.~

  Daphne saw Fletcher twitch the way he frequently did when Bess addressed him. He turned his head to look off down the street toward the still-unseen procession. Then he went still, rigid as if paralyzed. He made a gesture like cutting his throat and turned, grabbing Chirayu and dragging him away from the street. Daphne, startled, backed away from him. He took her arm with his free hand and pulled her along in his wake.

  “We are lost,” he said in a low voice, never stopping his swift march away from the street. “I should have guessed Amitabh would remain close to his victim.”

  “But—” Daphne began.

  “His Discernment, do you not see? Had we remained there, he would have sensed our presence before we were in range to recover Sir Rodney.” Finally, Fletcher came to a halt at the center of two narrow paths, surrounded by busy men and women who paid them no mind, and released them. “We cannot reach him. Our plan has failed.”

  In which Daphne once more does the unexpected

  ut we cannot abandon our goal!” Chirayu said.

  “We will not,” Fletcher said. His eyes were narrowed, and he drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I need time, and we have very little of that.”

  “Tell us what to do, Captain,” Daphne said.

  Fletcher bit his lip in thought. “Lady Daphne,” he said, “can you find the public square? Without Skipping?”

  “I believe so. It is at the end of that street—or perhaps I should stay away from the street, if Amitabh can sense my feelings—are you certain he would be able to pick us out from such a large crowd?”

  “Very certain. He is skilled, for one so young, and feelings of anticipatory fear stand out like—I have no time to explain it.” Fletcher laid a hand on her shoulder. “Go to the square and hide yourself on the far side. When Sir Rodney appears, the rest of us will separate his guards from him, and when that happens, you are to Bound him away immediately. No matter what else you see, do you understand? Then return to the rendezvous point and wait for us. Chirayu, with me.”

  He turned away, and Daphne, dread creeping over her, said, “Captain—”

  Fletcher glanced back over his shoulder. “We will succeed, Daphne, I promise you that.” With a few steps, he and Chirayu were swept up in the crowd.

  Daphne took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of food and animals and human beings that made up the distinctive scent of Madhyapatnam. Then she plunged into the crowd.

  The rising sun tinted the sky a paler blue but was not yet high enough to give her guidance as to her direction. She followed narrow paths, staying away from the main street, praying her inner sense was enough to keep her in the right way. No one stared at her; they were either preoccupied with their own business or were flocking in the same direction she was. She realized they were going to see the execution just as she came out from between two buildings and discovered she had reached the square.

  The crowds had swollen until Daphne was certain all of Madhyapatnam had turned out to see the horrid event. Did they all wish Sir Rodney dead, despite how much he had done for Madhyapatnam? Or were some of them there in protest? She pushed her way through, ignoring the cries of anger in Hindoostani, until she reached an open space. She had never been so grateful to be small and yet have the strength to shove past those blocking her view. She crouched, ducked, and broke through to the front of the crowd, then bit back a scream at the grey monstrosity only fifty feet from where she stood.

  In the next moment, her eyes adjusted, and she realized it was an elephant, shifting its weight from one enormous front foot to the other. A couple of men dressed in short trousers and soft hats held halters to which its harness was attached. They ignored it, bantering and laughing with each other in Hindoostani, laughing louder when the elephant’s trunk plucked the hat from one man’s head.

  Daphne regarded the scene in confusion. It had such a carnival, festive air that she could not imagine what role the elephant might play in the drama that was about to unfold. Perhaps Amitabh intended to take a celebratory ride around the bazaar? She noticed a block for mounting the elephant nearby. It was plain, with dark stains along its sides, and far too short to help anyone mount an animal that size.

  Or… she recalled a story Miss Donnelly had whispered one night after supper, as if speaking it softly might make it less horrid. A story of how some executions were performed in India, with the victim made to kneel with his head on the block, the elephant led forward, its giant foot induced to set atop the victim’s head, and then… Daphne swallowed against her sudden nausea. How symbolic, crushing the head of the representative of the Company, asserting Amitabh’s dominance. It was exactly the kind of execution Daphne might expect him to arrange.

  She looked away, hoping to regain her calm. The square might have been any shape, it was so thronged with people ringing it, appearing to sway as men and women did as Daphne had done and made good vantage points for themselves. The bazaar was to Daphne’s left about a quarter of the way around the square, its dun and grey tent peaks already erected against the day’s business. No doubt the stall owners hoped an early morning execution would whet their customers’ appetites for purchasing all manner of things.

  To the right, about the same distance, a gap in the wall of people showed where the main street entered the square. She could not tell, at that distance, how Amitabh’s men were keeping
the street clear for his macabre procession, just that no one seemed inclined to take that space regardless of how much pushing was happening. Daphne determined to make a place for herself opposite that opening, which would give her a perfect view and, possibly, put her in a position to rescue Sir Rodney.

  Deciding against simply running across the square, she ducked back into the crowd and made her way around, ducking her head and slinking through the narrowest gaps between people to her desired place. She found she could not stand directly opposite the street, as that put the elephant between her and the opening, so she stood to the left of the elephant and its keepers. Had she understood Hindoostani, she would be able to follow the conversation the keepers were having, she was that close.

  Someone prodded her in the back, and she half-turned to see a boy of about eight or nine, trying to do as she had done and push his way to the front. His eyes widened as he registered she was European. Daphne lunged for him, not knowing what she would do once she had him, but he dodged and disappeared into the crowd. With luck, she had scared him off and not prompted him to go looking for someone who might accost a lone European woman in Madhyapatnam. She adjusted the cloth around her head and turned around to discover she’d missed the opening moves in the drama now playing out before her.

  Three guards had entered the square and separated, two pacing around the circumference of the crowd, the third approaching the elephant. All three were burly, bare chested, and bore swords and pistols thrust into their belts. Not Amitabh’s French soldiers, but natives. Daphne pressed back into the crowd and ducked her head as one of them passed near her. She did not need him to identify her as a European, not now.

  The men finished their sweep of the crowd, and fell back to flank the elephant on both sides. The keeper on Daphne’s side was eyeing the men without staring directly at them. He looked worried that the guards might upset his enormous charge, and based on how the elephant’s movements had become more agitated, he might be right to worry. Daphne assessed the distance between herself and the elephant. It was far enough that she could Skip well out of its way, if that became necessary.

  Then she forgot to worry about the elephant, because two more guards had entered the square. They each held the end of a rope attached to a man they were towing behind them. Sir Rodney looked terrible. Dried blood coated one side of his face, his clothing was torn, and he was barefoot. He stumbled along as if he was unaware of his surroundings. Daphne, furious, took a step toward them—but the guards still held Sir Rodney’s bonds, and she might be able to surprise one of them into dropping his rope, but it would be the only surprise she would get. She needed to wait for Fletcher’s attack.

  The guards marched forward, and Sir Rodney stumbled and went to his knees. The crowd roared, whether in approval or in anger, she could not tell. Soon, Daphne thought, it must be soon. She found herself balanced on her toes, ready to leap forward at the slightest warning, which was ridiculous because Skipping did not involve motion like that. Yet she waited in that precarious position anyway, letting the need for balance keep her mind focused. Soon…

  A thunderclap out of a clear blue pre-dawn sky cut across the noise of thousands of people eager to watch a man die. One of Sir Rodney’s guards jerked, blood fountaining from his chest. He sagged to his knees, the rope falling loose from his hand. Daphne immediately Skipped across the square and took hold, not of Sir Rodney, but of the remaining guard’s rope. She yanked on it with all her strength, and it came flying free of the startled man’s hand. Another shot rang out, then another, but she had no time to listen to rifle fire. She heaved Sir Rodney to his feet, got her arms around his knees, lifted—

  —and in half a breath was in the dim coolness of Government House’s Bounding chamber. “Get out of here,” she gasped, pushing him toward the door, and Bounded back to the shack where she had spent the night. She rushed outside, listening. In the distance, screams and gunshots and the high, terrified trumpeting of a panicked elephant drifted toward her. Daphne swore and Skipped high into the air. She could not just wait for the men to return. She needed to find them before they were all killed.

  She Skipped again to the square and immediately regretted her impulse. The crowd had dissolved into a mob, not a mass of men intent on destroying everything in their path, but a frightened, helpless wave of people all trying to get away from danger without any idea of where the danger was. The elephant’s keepers had a heroic grasp of the halters, but the elephant dragged them from one side to the other, bellowing its fear. Daphne Skipped high again and shied away as a rifle ball came within inches of her head. “How dare you shoot at me?” she screamed, irrational in her fear for Fletcher and the others, and Skipped again, desperately searching the crowds.

  Just as she had determined it was useless, she saw Phillips fighting his way through the crowd. In an instant she was beside him and swept him up and away to Government House. “No!” he shouted. “You must return us to Madhyapatnam. I can relay instructions—”

  “You can do it from here,” Daphne said, and vanished.

  To her surprise, Vajra was at the rendezvous point when she ducked out of the shack. He was breathing heavily and had the beginnings of a bruise across the bridge of his nose and beneath his eyes. “Dockery was behind me,” he said. “He is on his way. We fought—”

  Daphne picked him up and Bounded him to Government House. “—the rest of Amitabh’s guards,” he continued. “It is just a matter of taking everyone home now.”

  Daphne nodded and Bounded back. This time, she forced herself to wait, pacing before the shack and listening to the noise of the mob. If it came this way… where else could they go? Where else would she know to look for them?

  Chirayu staggered out from between the nearest ramshackle houses, followed seconds later by Ainsworth. “Go, go, Lady Daphne!” Ainsworth shouted. She Bounded both men in quick succession. Just Dockery and Fletcher left, and they would arrive in time, she knew it.

  Seconds passed, turned into minutes, and still no sign of Dockery or Fletcher. Frustrated and despairing, Daphne flung herself into the sky once more.

  The mob had quieted but was still a wild mass of movement. Daphne knew instantly the chances of her finding anyone she knew were vanishingly small. Still, she cast about, quartering Madhyapatnam using her trained skills and her own intelligence. Perhaps they might see her, hovering and darting above the city like a drab hummingbird, and would find a way to return.

  There were patterns to the mob, she noticed, streaks of color through the generally dull masses of brown and black. Lacking any other direction, she followed the color and immediately had to Skip out of the way of rifle fire. She rose higher. Only Amitabh’s men had rifles—or, at least, if her friends had rifles, as it seemed from the exchange in the square, they would not be shooting at her. Therefore, the colorful streaks were Amitabh’s people.

  Pain creased her left arm, and she fell, Skipping to safety only moments before impacting with the earth. She touched her arm, and her hand came away bloody. Dazed, she let herself be jostled by the mob until the initial pain passed.

  Another hand grabbed her arm, making her hiss and wince away. “What are you doing here?” Fletcher exclaimed. “You were to return to the shack!”

  “I did, but you and Dockery—I had to find you—”

  “You are a commander’s worst nightmare,” Fletcher said. “Dockery is dead. Let us go—”

  Even in the noise of the affray, the sound of a rifle bolt ratcheting into place echoed, and Daphne turned to see the long, gleaming barrel of a rifle pointing at Fletcher’s head. Fletcher went very still, as if he could prevent the soldier from firing through willpower alone. He said something in Hindoostani and put a protective hand on Daphne’s uninjured arm. She stood as still as Fletcher. Could she lift him and Bound them both away before the rifle fired? She was fast, but it was Fletcher’s life she would be risking.

  Someone approached and pushed aside the rifle. “I think there is nothing
you can say that will spare you,” Amitabh said. “And it would be a shame to waste the elephant. I understand they are less… decisive… when they are afraid. Can you smell the fear?”

  “We have stolen your symbol. Our deaths mean nothing to the Company,” Fletcher said.

  “Yours, perhaps. But an Extraordinary Bounder? They cannot have so many of those that they can afford to waste any.” Amitabh took a few steps closer and rested his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. Fletcher closed his eyes as if in pain. “I believe… she will be the first to die. I am generous, yes, in sparing her the sight of your death?” Amitabh rested his other hand on Daphne’s shoulder in a parody of comradeship. “Yes, you are far—”

  Quicker than thought, Daphne crouched and put an arm around Fletcher, below his posterior. With the other, she embraced Amitabh the same way. She pulled them both close to her body, lifted with her legs, and with a great agonized scream, Bounded away.

  Her arms, her back, and the back of her thighs hurt as they never had before, their sharp ache a counterpoint to the dull throbbing of her injury. The instant the walls of the Bounding chamber rose up around her, she dropped both men and staggered backward into the wall, closing her eyes against the pain. She heard a scuffle, a very short one, the sound of flesh striking flesh hard, and then Fletcher’s voice, saying, “Daphne, are you well?”

  She wheezed out, “I do not believe I could repeat that. Please tell me you have subdued him.”

  “I have. Do you suppose you could open the door? My hands are rather occupied.”

  She opened her eyes. Fletcher had one of Amitabh’s arms twisted behind his back and held him up by his collar with his other hand. Amitabh appeared semi-conscious, sagging in Fletcher’s grasp. Daphne opened the door and stepped back to permit Fletcher to precede her into the hall. “I would offer to Bound him elsewhere, but I do not know where I might take him. I know no locations within Fort William, which to me seems a sad oversight.”