"Then why does Kali Durga close her eyes to you, false one?" said an entirely new voice—and the coils about Peter loosened a little more.
Peter couldn't turn his head, but the speaker leaped forward over the serpent holding him.
It was—a monkey. A man-sized monkey. A man-sized langur, dressed in elaborately embroidered Indian festival garments, with a sacred crown upon its— His—head, garlands about His neck, and a spear in His hands.
Good God—
"Thank you" Hanuman said, bowing a little to Peter. Then, as the huge and shadowy constrictor holding Peter started to raise its head in alarm, He struck.
The serpent dodged the first blow of the spear, but in trying to escape, it loosed its coils completely and allowed Peter to tumble free. Peter, however, had no thought for the combat.
The priestess had seized a knife from the altar beside her, a blade that glittered with magic. She stared at Peter as he sprinted desperately for her, then raised her arm.
"You will not have her, English!" she shouted, and slashed the knife down through the air beside Maya— severing the silver cord that bound Maya to her own physical body.
Peter! she wailed, and Peter fell to his knees and screamed her name, feeling his own heart torn from his body and ripped into pieces before his eyes.
And—
Hanuman plunged His spear into the head of the Serpent—
As Rhadi sped toward the fading golden light above the altar—
The Serpent gave one, final, agonized lash of its
enormous tail. The tail whipped over Peter's head, and impacted the priestess, knocking her past the altar—
Allowing Rhadi to reach it just before the last of the golden light faded away.
There was a soundless explosion of light—exactly the light that had burst out the moment that Rhadi had appeared in the shop. Except that this time, for a single moment, Peter thought he saw, not a bird, but a handsome, smiling young Hindu man.
The light vanished.
There was no Shadow Serpent. And Rhadi, who was aglow with golden light, flitted to Peter's shoulder.
"Kiss," he said, and touched his beak to Peter's lips.
The glow flowed into him, drying his tears of loss and anguish in a heartbeat, filling him with a loving and familiar presence, and a strange, slow, power that made him feel as if he were swimming in honey.
Maya? he thought, in disbelief.
Peter, she said, from within his heart. Oh, Peter!
"Take her home, for you do not have much time to restore her before Kama's power fades," said Hanuman. "It is over. The evil one has gotten her reward from her own Goddess and will trouble you no more on this turn of the Wheel." Peter turned to see that Shivani, the priestess of Kali Durga, was, indeed, nestled among the many arms of Kali Durga, her head lolling sideways in a way that could only mean a broken neck—and if that wasn't enough to ensure that she was dead, two of the dagger-bearing arms had closed on Kali Durga's votary, driving the blades they held deep into her body.
The eyes of the statue were open again.
Peter turned again—but there was no Hanuman. Only Charan, who chittered and ran toward him, scampering up his leg to his arms, and from there to his shoulder.
"Home," said Rhadi. "Quickl"
Peter took one of the lanterns from the wall, and headed for the stairs in a kind of shock or daze. It felt as if he were floating, not walking; his head buzzed with confined power that was not his own, and he could hardly manage to put one thought after another. He went right past Gupta and Norrey as if he were sleepwalking. They stared at him and tried to stop him, but now he knew what he had to do, and he began to run. Strengthened and sustained beyond his own abilities by Earth magic that poured into him directly instead of through an intermediary, he felt he could run forever—
But there were faster feet than his, and he made for them. He leaped into the hansom of their faithful cab driver, then under silent urging from within, spread his arms and allowed the Earth Magic to engulf cab and horse and all. Without whip or orders, the horse surged forward into the traces and in moments was at the gallop again, but this time, the more the gallant beast strove, the more energy poured into him. He ran as he had never run in all of his life as a racehorse, ran as if he raced in freedom across the sweet, soft meadows of his colthood and not the hard pavements of the city. Charan clung to one shoulder, Rhadi to the other, and the cab scarcely seemed to touch the street as they flew onward.
When they stopped, Peter burst from the cab; Maya's door flew open at his touch. He sprinted into the surgery, shoved O'Reilly away with an absent push, and bent to place his lips on Maya's.
"Kissl" said Rhadi, joyfully, and the warm, golden presence left him in that kiss, flowed out of him and into her, leaving him. But not empty; never empty. And never alone again.
Her lips warmed beneath his. He opened his eyes and reluctantly ended the kiss, and as he did so, she opened her eyes, and smiled.
This time, she reached for him, and the kiss lasted as long as either of them could have wanted.
Epilogue
From: Nurse Sarah Pleine
Fleet Clinic
Cheapside
To: Jane Millicent Lambert
5 Carnock Road
Manadon
Dear Jane;
Well, my dear, we had our wedding! Our double wedding, I should say, since it was Miss Amelia and her beau, that sweet young man we had at the clinic that I told you about, and Miss Maya and her Captain! I was matron of honor to both of them, and I was that nervous when I saw the native dress that Miss Maya intended to wear, but it was all right, for they gave me a handsome suit and didn't expect me to get all tangled up in one of those "sorry" things, which is just as well, for you know, I haven't the figure to wear anything that looks like yards and yards of bedsheet! Doctor O'Reilly and Lord Peter Almsley were best man—men?—and oh, I never saw a handsomer set of fellows, and O'Reilly's wife the match for him, a regular Lady of Shallots. Six of the girls and teachers from the London School were maids of honor and half of them wore those "sorrys"—well, I didn't envy them a bit, no matter that it's twelve full yards of silk and you could make it up into a very nice frock later— and each of them carried one of Miss Maya's pets instead of a bouquet! And the peacock was up at the altar behind the bishop, with his tail spread the whole time and so quiet and good you'd have thought he knew exactly what was going on. . . .
From:
Helene, Duchess of Almsley
To: Her Grace Katherine, Dowager Duchess of Almsley Heartwood Hall
Newport Pagnell
Your Grace, Well, my dear son—your grandson—has done it again with this "little wedding" he organized for his friends. I shan't be able to show my face in London for months. A circus, a positive circus, not a wedding— women in native dress, animals, creatures straight from a suffragette meeting and criminals and only the Good Lord knows what else in attendance, and as if that wasn't bad enough, for he could have kept it quiet if he had confined his mischief to just those, he has had Bishop Mannering to officiate and everyone from his Club to attend! The humiliation! I can't keep him in order, but he listens to you, surely you. . . .
To: Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Almsley
Heartwood Hall
Newport Pagnell
Dear Grandmama;
Well, we've done the deed, and it came out splendidly, like the first act of Aida, only the animals were guaranteed not to disgrace themselves on the church carpet. Thank you for denuding your garden and hothouse for us; Maya was nearly in tears of joy over the flowers.
Alderscroft has done the handsome thing; he's admitted he was wrong, which may be the first time in history, and he's not only brought in O'Reilly and his wife (she's Fire, too—I wouldn't care to be a fly on the wall in that house during a marital squabble!) to the Lodge, and brought in Maya as a full Club Member in her own right, but he's issuing invitations to every Master we know of to join the Club and Lodge. S
ome will decline, of course, but they will still be official Auxiliaries. I, by the by, am to convey his humble respects and invitation to you, etc. etc. There have been words and even some (few) resignations over this; there are still some old mummies who can't stomach the notion of a tradesman or a good yeoman farmer in "the company of Gentlemen," much less (oh, horrors!) a mere Female Creature as a member of the Exeter Club, but they were fair useless to begin with.
Now the part of the letter I know you want—the wedding. Grandmama, it was a picture. Maya and half the ladies in wedding saris embroidered in gold, she said to tell you that the color is traditional for wedding saris and she'll be sending you a bolt of the silk to thank you. The other half matched Miss Amelia's gown, which I know you've seen since you were the one who organized the making of it. They all carried one of the "pets" instead of bouquets—a quite brave pair had matching hawking gloves for the owl and the falcon. The pets were good as gold—the peacock stood like a statue in front of the altar, behind the bishop, with his tail fanned during the whole ceremony. Every member of the Exeter Club still speaking to us that could toddle helped to fill in the pews, which were liberally larded with some of Amelia's suffragette friends (who thankfully did not wear their banners and badges). Any empty spaces were taken by Norrey and her "mates"—who, to their credit, now that they have the pelf from our raid on the temple in their pockets, do seem to be trying to "go straight." Twin is helping them there, getting them set up in little businesses that are bound to do well if they are properly managed. Miss Norrey has found an entirely new calling; she's training to be a cook under Gopal, if you can credit it!
Ceremony modern—no "obeying" allowed, thank you, in the presence of so many suffragettes. Bishop beaming, grooms and brides beaming, general company beaming, everyone retired to the Club itself for wedding supper, and pets as good as gold. Much spoiled, too; half expected the little monkey to be sick, he was fed so many sugarplums. Much more admiration of the floral decorations.
We've got them all off on a train an hour ago, for honeymoons all around. Only a fortnight though; Mrs. Amelia still has classes and the clinic will be shorthanded without Mrs. Maya.
Cousin Reuben's eldest son Bertie will make the perfect Earth Master to complete Maya's training; they got along like two old friends at the wedding, and bless you for suggesting him. I'm putting him up at my flat in Piccadilly for the nonce; he can decide later if he wants to make an extended stay and join my bachelor shambles or find some digs of his own. He's going to help Twin out with the shop and import business, as you suggested; I would never have guessed that an offspring of Cousin Reuben would turn out to have such a good head for it.
I consulted with Maya's Peter about the wedding present you suggested, and he agreed that it is the perfect answer, and I really do think I can find everything within a fortnight so we can surprise Maya when the bride and groom return home. Old Gupta is positively ebullient over the idea, which means that there are no objections. So, once I fan my fevered brow and recover from all this, I will be out hunting: one female Hanuman langur, one female saker falcon, one male Eurasian eagle-owl. I know you can persuade old Lord Nettleton to part with one of the female Indian Ring-necks from his aviaries, and would you sort through our livestock at the manor for a particularly nice peahen?
All my love
Your grandson, Lord Peter Almsley
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The Serpent's Shadow em-2 Page 38
