Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (10 page)

An officer appeared from one of the huts. "What is the problem here?" he barked when he saw the frozen tableau. One of the guardsmen explained. The officer looked at the fallen man, kicked him awake, and told him to stand at attention. Then he approached Inhetep and the amazon.

"Who are you?" he asked civilly enough. The magister answered, supplying names for both himself and Rachelle. "Why do you speak for your wife?" he then queried, and of course the magister gave him the story of the vow of silence, embellished by a personal vision of the goddess. Hearing that, the officer seemed neither to believe nor doubt. "Sita. I see. What happened to the guard who was going to search you?" he said suddenly to Rachelle, looking directly at her.

Rachelle's eyes showed she understood his question, that she had an answer, but she didn't otherwise respond. "As I said, sir," Inhetep filled in, "she can not utter a word until her pilgrimage is done, her vow fulfilled. I tried to warn your man. I think the goddess has placed a protective mantle upon my wife. I dare not touch her," he added ruefully. The latter almost convinced the officer, but he was careful.

"You there!" The officer motioned. The stricken soldier came to stand before his superior. He moved a little jerkily, and he was undoubtedly bruised and sore. The guard's eyes were filled with an almost laughable mixture of hatred and fear, which he hid as he looked at the officer.

"Sir?" He was told to go and bring the swami subadar. He went off, his now-odd gait eliciting more than one suppressed chuckle from the growing throng who watched this exciting show.

In truth, the officer was tempted to laugh, but instead he waved the crowd off, ordered the idle guards nearby to get busy processing the folk, and then led his two charges so as to meet the approaching magickal practitioner partway.

Out of range of the curious now, the officer had Inhetep repeat the whole story. The swami subadar used his powers. "I can find no deception, but ..."

"But what?"

"There are very strong auras and flows of energy, sir. I can not be sure of anything."

"Is that so! Tell me,
Merchant
Chandgar, how do you explain
that?!"

"I? I explain such things? No, sahib officer. I am only a businessman, no worker of magickal wonders. I can only tell you it is the goddess in her shrine. My dear Manasay spends hours of time in devotional meditation and prayer before it each night and day. Sita is within!" Inhetep pointed helplessly towards their gear, his look beseeching the aid of the army heka practitioner.

The swami subadar rose to the bait perfectly. "That's easy enough to check on, sir. Shall I examine their things?"

With an affirmative answer, the commander of the detachment guarding the border crossing called out for one of the men to bring the two bags to where they stood apart. "Empty them," he ordered. The guardsman dumped both.

"Aiiiy!" the swami cried when that happened. "Have a care! There is very potent heka coming from—" He stopped to bend down and rummage through the mess. Then he stopped and held something up. "This shrine! Should I open it, sir?"

"Open it, Subadar," the officer said.

The swami put the little box on the ground, sat cross-legged before it, and after a few mumbled incantations in preparation, pulled the doors outwards, doing so carefully, possibly with trepidation. Immediately upon so doing, he gave a gasp. Then the fellow prostrated himself, bending so that his forehead was flush upon the ground despite his position.

The officer saw nothing remarkable in the shrine, only a small idol of the goddess in question: Sita, wife of the great Rama. "Come on, man!" he barked. "Stop that. Tell me what you see."

It took a few minutes to get the swami out of his adoration, back on his feet, and able to report. "Surely, sir, that shrine holds the power of the goddess. Never have I experienced such an energy. Sita's own voice spoke to me, commanding that I leave her faithful handmaiden, Manasay, wife of the man Chandgar, untouched. I am to send her on her way to the springs which form the Five Rivers. This man spoke true."

"Very well. Thank you, Swami Subadar. You may get back to what you were doing. You two may leave. Get away from here. Cross the border to Delhi and get on to your Punjab. Do not return this way—if you do return!" he added.

Something about this whole matter bothered him, but he no longer cared. What difference if this couple went to the land of the enemy? Even if the fellow was a trickster, he was not going to detain him. Under no circumstances did he want either that man or his good-looking woman around.

Thus the two entered the lands ruled by Guldir Maharajah Sivadji. At last they were in Delhi, if not at the great capital city of that name.

—— 7 ——

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

In a few hundred yards, they had to pass through those soldiers set to guard against the unwanted incursion of those coming from Sindraj. It was Delhi which was pressing the conflict between the two states, the Peacock Throne which sought territorial gain from its neighbor to the south. But that was in the far west, in Multan. Here they were fearful of only one thing. That was, of course, an invasion. Spies would always get across borders. No clever one would ever come along a road such as this. Smugglers would likewise avoid an open crossing. They were cursory in their checking, demanding only bribes for admittance.

"It is five annas each to enter," the man stopping Inhetep and Rachelle said.

"I am no prince to pay such an outrageous sum!" the magister said hotly when he heard that. "I am an honest merchant who can afford but a single anna," he said loudly. Then he handed something over to the guardsman.

"Honest
merchant!
There is no such thing!" the soldier shouted back. But he accepted what Inhetep had given him, and with some curses waved them on past where he stood.

"What was that ruckus for?" Rachelle asked.

"Oh, he was covering up. I gave him two annas when I said I could afford but one. That way he could keep one for himself without having to put it in the pot for all his fellows to divide. It works nearly always."

"There's more to you, Magister, than meets the eye," Rachelle scolded. "Knowledge of such a roguish trick is a sign of a misspent youth."

"And now a misspent maturity with you, my dear!"

She made a face at him. "You mean middle age."

"Nothing of the sort. We ur-kheri-heb-tepiu defy such mundane conceptions."

"Yes. You go from undoubtedly stuffy younger age to a stodginess of septuagenarian sort without benefit of any intermediate period."

"But last night you said—"

"Be quiet, Setne. Someone will hear us." At that point, Rachelle was no longer joking. The thoroughfare leading to Alwar was no place to be chattering in /Egyptian.

"Right." He said that in the lingua franca, knowing the talisman she wore would enable translation. "Now I will speak, you will listen in dutiful silence." Her glare would have been sufficient to egg him on, but by now Setne had tired of the game. "Walk along briskly. I wish to get to the city as soon as possible. I am tired of shank's mare. When we reach Alwar, we will find good horses and ride the remainder of the way to Delhi. It has been nearly a month, and I fear our patron will be beside himself."

The amazon looked at Inhetep with one brow raised. The look conveyed her concern.

"As close as we are, and with no opposition likely to alert such an arrival, why not fast steeds? Would you prefer the comfort of a how-dah atop the back of a great elephant?" Rachelle looked disgusted. "I thought not. Horses it will be, then." They walked on thus, the magister sporadically keeping up similar one-way conversations as they went.

Thankfully, their goal was only a dozen miles on the other side of the border. That explained the unusually heavy traffic. Its proximity to Sindraj also explained the unusually good state of repair of Alwar's walls and the strength of the military force garrisoning the city. As difficult as such a place might prove to be, there was one great advantage to the presence of the army there. Horses were plentiful, if more than a trifle dear due to demand. After a night's stay in a nondescript inn, they entered the horse market to accomplish the magister's purpose.

Rachelle was a great judge of horseflesh.

which was saying a lot, for Inhetep was also knowledgeable in that regard. After visiting several stables, the two finally found a pair of mounts which suited them both. At first, the dealer didn't believe that a merchant of his sort could afford such animals. He was about to walk away when Setne named an insultingly low figure, referring to the stock as "broken down." That caused the man to turn in fuiy, proclaiming the quality of his horses in a loud voice, heatedly demanding ten times their value as a counter to the figure Inhetep had offered. This was the sort of haggling the trader couldn't resist! Long and difficult bargaining ensued. It was always acrimonious. At last, grumbling and swearing that the dealer was a son of a rakshasa, for only one of such wicked parentage could ask so many thousands for spavined jades, he paid over gold. The seller seemed as angry about the transaction as his buyer, but he nevertheless ordered a grinning lackey to put bit and bridle, pad and saddles on the horses in question. Of course, the fellow gave them the oldest and worst tack he had, but in truth he felt cheated. It seemed that Magister Inhetep, even in the guise of a Hindi, could drive a sharp bargain.

"Fine animals, Setne!" Rachelle exclaimed enthusiastically under her breath. "But the cost!"

He was all too aware of the inflated prices being paid in Alwar, but as he had paid only about a tenth over the horses' true worth, Inhetep wasn't actually displeased. He shrugged and didn't say anything in reply, though, glad to be no longer walking. He was eager to be in the maharajah's city, ready to begin his beloved investigative work. Because the wizard-priest was immersed in such thoughts, what his companion had said to him didn't really register.

Rachelle was familiar with his moods and knew what such behavior meant. She too thought it was high time to concentrate on the reason they were here. While it was enjoyable to take ships and wander through foreign lands when traveling for pleasure, the magis-ter's peculiar mixture of travel modes were not to the amazon's liking in this case. In truth, Rachelle had thought from the moment he had decided to take the challenge and go to Delhi, Setne should have used his heka to deliver them quickly and directly to the palace of the maharajah. She had questioned him obliquely and received answers which didn't satisfy. His levity, her teasing, were screens to mask concerns. But was he
really
wrong? That remained to be seen. However, she would stay especially alert just in case.

Horses instead of a casting. This was distinctly odd. Perhaps it was simply that Setne wished to see the land. He was an accomplished horseman, and she too could ride superbly. Yet the dangers of mounted travel across half the breadth of Delhi seemed an inordinate risk compared to instant access.

I
will
make a point of acquiring more skill in magickal matters when we get back home, she thought as they cantered northwards. Perhaps it is merely my lack of acumen in such regard that makes me so uneasy. Even as that thought trailed away, Rachelle doubted it.

Inhetep set a good, steady pace for them. He alternately went from walk to trot to canter, then back to trot and walk. After a couple of hours, he signaled his companion to halt. There was a shady spot ahead; grass for grazing. They dismounted. "We are now of the warrior caste, my dear. We are Kshatriyas. I am Sahib Chandgar, you Sahibah Manasay. If need be, we'll stay with the 'vow of silence' story, but 111 say it is regarding a matter of personal honor which I cannot relate. That will suffice."

"Are we going to keep up this pace? I hope so, Setne! At the rate we're going, we should be in Delhi city in what—two days? Three?"

The wizard-priest shook his head. "We'll cover as much ground as we can today, but seek a company of pilgrims to spend the night with. What I learn from them will determine if we press on thereafter or proceed in company at a slower rate."

"Well, whatever we do, Setne, don't you think that it would be better if we donned our armor and carried weapons now?"

The magister's now-hazel eyes opened wide in surprise. "Of course! I should have said that. Sorry. It's just that I am ..."

"It is nothing. No harm done, Setne. You're just too busy thinking about the problem of the missing jewels to think of everything. That's why I come along with you, shave-pate." Inhetep smiled ruefully and nodded. "Don't you think you should open up your magickal trunk, then?" she prompted. Again the magister bobbed his head, went to his steed, and fetched out the appropriate gear from the enchanted coffer. Rachelle donned her chain shirt, added the other pieces of armor, slung bow and quiver from the saddle, then girded herself with a sword belt. When she looked up, she was surprised to see the magister was in armor as well.

Noticing her look, Inhetep explained, "I actually anticipated something like this occurring. That's why I brought along this plain breastplate and the cap to hide my hairless head. With the staff turned into a lance, I believe I make a passable warrior."

"Not bad," she admitted. "The saber is a nice touch—better than this straight blade I bear. Why didn't I think of that?"