Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (13 page)

Yahadura Dhiki now stepped well ahead of the two, calling out in his best voice, "The

Sahib Magister of /Egypt and the Sahibah Rachelle present themselves most humbly before the power of the Peacock Throne and his Resplendent Majesty Guldir Sivadji."

Perhaps he would have gone on with the string of honorifics attached to the maharajah's crown, but Sivadji Guldir crooked his finger. The majordomo prostrated himself. Hissing to his charges to do likewise, he instructed them to crawl the length of the runner to a place before the throne where the maharajah would tell them when they might arise.

Ignoring those whispers, Magister Inhetep gave a full bow, with the courtly flourishes proper for a prince of Pharaoh's mighty realm. Rachelle was watching Setne out of the corner of her eye. Taking her cue from him, she made a low curtsy. Then both walked stiffly to stand three paces from the seated monarch, repeating their gestures of respect in abbreviated fashion. "Your humble servants, Resplendent Majesty," the wizard-priest said as he lifted his head from that second bow. He kept his eyes on the monarch, calm and level. Gold was everywhere. It was the least of the splendors there. Inhetep was not to be distracted by the marvels of mosaic tiles, masterful paintings, or even the multitude of faceted gems which encrusted the peacock-shaped seat of state in glittering array.

"You are given Our permission to approach," the ruler of Delhi said, granting that leave ex post facto. If he was unaccustomed to their mode of acknowledgement of royalty—and the /Egyptian court now followed /Eropan style, so it was unlikely Sivadji Guldir had ever seen such acts before—the maharajah seemed entirely unruffled by their actions and satisfied that proper homage had been given. This acceptance of something less than the Oriental prostration was explained a moment later, though, when he went on: "Welcome,
True Prince
of the Triple Kingdom, grand priest and wizard—and to you too, Lady, I extend Our gracious greeting. Is the fame which has reached Us justified?"

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Inhetep responded, while Rachelle made a third curtsy to accept that benison. "I am unable to answer the question, I fear, for I have no intelligence in respect to the information Your Majesty has received. I can say only that I try my best."

"You have Our leave to address me as Maharajah Sivadji. We expect your best to answer Our requirements! Do not disappoint Us. We are already annoyed at having to wait so long. Explain your delay in answering Our . . . missive."

"As you command, Maharajah Sivadji." Inhetep was forthright, his voice calm and with no hint of apology as he told the monarch, "There were certain matters which had to be attended to in order to prepare for our departure—things most necessary to assure that our services would indeed answer Your Majesty's requirements. It was also my considered opinion that when all aspects of the matter were weighed in balance, time could be traded for positive assurance."

Rachelle was watching the whole time. She had taken an instant dislike to the maharajah, finding the fat man toad-like in appearance. He was oily skinned and repulsive. This ugly grossness was repeated in the corpulent eunuchs behind him and the fawning, scantily clad women reclining at his feet around the be-jeweled seat. She did her best to mask her thoughts and conceal her growing revulsion. However, when his thick lips uttered their next words, the amazon's eyes glittered with a fire as hard as the stones of the maharajah's throne.

"You will stand on that assurance, and answer to Us if you cannot do so!" He then let his beady eyes slide from Inhetep to Rachelle. They moved slowly, staring at her head and going leisurely down her body, lingering at breast and thighs, before returning to look at the magister once again. "But We are sure you understood that already. Enough for now. You are stained from your long and possibly unnecessary travel across Our kingdom—improperly garbed for continued audience. Leave Us. After you have bathed and put on robes appropriate for the occasion We will sup with you." Maharajah Sivadji tugged at a pendulous earlobe before waving to signify the dismissal was to be obeyed. "We are pleased that you brought your charming companion along, Prince Magister. She is your ward, adopted in your house, is she not?"

"That is essentially correct, Your Majesty."

The maharajah smirked at his own display of personal knowledge regarding the tall /Egyptian. He also was pleased with something else. "She must be displayed to more advantage. We will have Our Dresser of Court Women see to that."

"That is not required," the magister said quickly, his words clear and distinct in contradiction. He had to be quick, for Rachelle understood and was about to react in a way guaranteed to bring an uproar to the court. At the very best, the wizard-priest might be able to extricate the two of them with some great hekau. More probably, they would have been cut down by the guards for assault on the person of the monarch. "Lady Rachelle is charged with my personal protection, Your Majesty. It would violate her sworn duty to appear in other than her armor."

Scowling, Guldir Sivadji signaled that the audience was over. With appropriate gestures, they backed three steps from the royal presence, then turned and walked from the cham-her. There were mutters and gasps from behind, but Inhetep and the amazon seemed deaf to those noises. The near-hysterical major-domo came flying out after them, having managed to creep backwards on hands and knees at a record rate in order to manage that. "This way, please, Pr— Sahib Magister, Sahibah. I will show you to your rooms. The bath is hot. Attendants are there to see to your slightest wish. If you require anything else, merely clap your hands, and I will come instantly."

Rachelle could not contain herself. She whispered angrily to Inhetep as they followed the functionary: "When he looked me over, Setne, I felt as if slugs were crawling over my body— in places slugs should not be! He's a vile . . . filthy . . . nauseating . . . And when he spoke to you about—"

"I understand and agree, my dear. This is no place to discuss the matter, though. Wait until we are alone."

Their suite consisted of two separate bedrooms, a parlor, and a huge bath chamber with a sunken tub nearly large enough to swim in. Being of the /Egyptian aristocracy, neither was surprised or disconcerted to find a bevy of half-naked serving women there to undress them, to perfume the water, dry them, massage and oil their bodies, and finally to help them don splendid Hindic garments. When the girls giggled at seeing Setne unclothed, however, Ra-chelle decided she had had enough of the maharajah's court. "Out!" she commanded in /Egyptian, her tone and pointing finger communicating her meaning as clearly as if she had uttered it in perfect Hindi.

They girls moved to obey, but one fell on her knees, weeping. "Do not dismiss us, Sahibah, I beg of you! The majordomo will have us beaten, flayed for displeasing you. We are sorry! We will not offend again, please?"

"Stay," Rachelle muttered, horrified at what she had heard, believing the sincerity of the plea. The magister repeated her instruction, embellishing it sufficiently to calm them down. "Very well, Setne Inhetep. Have your moment of glory at the hands of these foreign hussies," she told him. Then her voice grew serious. "I like this whole situation less and less," she exclaimed in a very low voice, certain that there were ears and eyes spying on all they did. "What sort of a man is he?"

"We shall see quite soon. Be on guard at dinner—and after. It is time we dug into the meat of the matter, and I do not refer to the repast we are about to share with the maharajah."

THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

At the appointed hour came a man who introduced himself as Gorvan. He brought the two guests to the private salon in which the maharajah was giving the special supper. "I am, lord and lady, the . . . what is the word? Chancellor is correct, I believe, yes? That is the one responsible for the treasure of state, is he not?" He spoke in carefully phrased Trade Phonecian, for he had learned that Rachelle was unable to speak Hindi.

"Yes, a chancellor is usually the treasurer. A very important office, Gorvan Sahib. You must have been most. . . distraught when the crown jewels were stolen," Inhetep said with some sympathy and a trace of uncertainty.

"Oh, yes, Magister. I was very, very unhappy to learn of that terrible theft—even though it brought me greater position in the government."

"Greater?"

"But of course, Magister," he said with a sly

smile. "That came right after the robbery, when I was promoted from master of the royal chambers to the recently vacant office of chancellor."

"I see," Inhetep grunted. Fortunately he wasn't required to engage in any more of that polite conversation. They entered the room in which they were to dine.

Gorvan showed them to their places, saying, "Just stand here until His Resplendence arrives. When he is seated, we may all then do likewise. Meanwhile, you will brought light refreshments. I must leave you now, but I will return soon. If there is aught you require, command any slave here."

As the wiry man slipped away and left them to themselves, both had a chance to examine their surroundings. Inhetep thought the place horribly gauche. Such an opinion was unusual, for he seldom considered taste foremost. Although the magister was certainly well versed in such matters, he was, after all, a wizard-priest bent on other aspects of life. That the place was over-decorated, cluttered in a fashion only possible for one determined to show extreme wealth by flaunting it in eveiy way, seemed undeniable. Nothing else could have possessed the owner to have done this to an otherwise pretty chamber of marble and tile.

There were at least big, over-stuffed chairs and a much-carved, inlaid table, so the ordeal of sitting on the floor as if he were a peasant too poor to afford decent furniture would be avoided. In fact, Inhetep noted that the seat at the head of the table was as wide as a divan, deep, and heaped with bright cushions whose patterned surfaces fairly screamed at each other. "Sivadji Guldir will enjoy his meal at some ease," he quipped to Rachelle. "That is, if he can manage to eat in this bizarrely furnished room."

"And I thought the tiger skins and elephant feet such clever touches. Never, Setne, have I seen so many rugs piled atop one smother, so much gold and objets d'art crowded like bric-a-brac. This is going to be an ordeal. Imagine the menu! Speaking of which, I had better taste all of your food and drink first. In such a nightmare place as this, poison can only be expected."

Inhetep barked a soft mirthful sound. "Don't be melodramatic, my dear. You know as well as I that I have taken such simple precautions as to ward both of us from something such as you suggest. I swear to you, it is this room which makes one say such things." He paused, ran a hand over his shaven head. "Hmmm . . . Now there's a thought."

"Will you share it?"

"Oh, no—sorry, my dear. It was nothing, actually. I was just rambling."

That seemed to satisfy Rachelle, distracted as she was by their surroundings. "There seem to be no other guests assembling," she observed after a moment. "I wonder how long we are to be kept waiting." There was no answer forthcoming, although a slave padded up and presented the two with a tray filled with various drinks. Rachelle examined the selection, peering, sniffing, even tasting. "Tea, Setne? There is also some fruit juice here, beer, white wine— a red, perhaps?" The magister was standing before a complex tapestry, staring intently at the scene it depicted. "Did you hear?" she prompted.

"What? Red? Ah, but no. Nothing, thank you," he said as he took in the tableau and his mind picked up the thread of her conversation. Then he reversed himself with an uncharacteristic suddenness. "Wait! Give me a goblet of the red wine you suggested. Perhaps it is just what I need."

Rachelle looked hard at her mentor but made no comment other than to select one of the gold vessels filled with the beverage he named. What he did made Rachelle even more uncertain. She watched as the magister thrust his finger into the wine, stirring it and muttering to himself. That was too much. "Setne, what
are
you doing?"

Inhetep withdrew the finger with a guilty expression, shook it off, and took a hasty swallow from the golden cup before he responded. "Just lost in thought, dear girl. Sorry for the bad form." Then an eyelid dropped to mask one emerald eye for an instant. "You know," he went on as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary, "this is a rather decent vintage—Magyar, I think, but quite drinkable."

They had only a minute alone after that before Chancellor Gorvan appeared in the room, his slippers making hardly a sound on the polished floor and heaped rugs. "A hundred pardons for my absence. I was delayed by an unavoidable matter of no import to you, but one I had to attend to. Good! You have taken refreshments. I will join you." He clapped his hands, and the big servant with the drink selection hurried to where the man could help himself. "You Eire having the Magyar red wine, I see. I shall do likewise." He did just that, gulped down half the contents of the goblet, and smacked his thin lips. "You find this good, no?"

Rachelle nodded politely. Inhetep said, "It is passable."

"Ohhh, yes, Magister Sahib. I am not surprised to hear you find it to your liking. It is superior to /Egyptian wines, is it not?"

If the wizard-priest was going to answer, the sudden arrival of Maharajah Sivadji precluded it. A huge guardsman entered the room, as tall as Inhetep, rolls of fat barely concealing the massive muscles beneath. He carried a naked scimitar with proportions appropriate to his size and strength. Immediately after entering he stepped aside, head bowed only to such extent as made it possible for him to keep his eyes fastened on all within the chamber. On seeing the guard, Gorvan flung himself prostrate on the carpets, somehow managing to retain the contents of the wine goblet.