Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (16 page)

"He merely complained about that?"

Rachelle smiled knowingly. "No. I used my wiles, wondered how such a clever and brave fellow could allow mere brigands to thwart him. 'Ha!* he bragged at that, 'I employ mercenaries to check the rebels, use
thags
to keep the stinking commoners in their place. Soon now too, when there is a change in theological direction, a force of hillmen more savage than the rebels' own will be available to me. Then we will have their miserable heads!' What did he mean by
thags?"

"Thugs, of course. Never mind that for the moment. You say he bragged about assistance from 'savage hillmen'?" She nodded. That caused the magister to stroke his shaven head several times as he thought.

"That was very good, my dear. You are absolutely indispensable to me! But there is one other matter. Did the general appear unconcerned about the leader of the insurgents?"

It was Rachelle's turn to ponder for a minute. "Serpents, Setne, I don't know!" she said finally. "Ratha simply passed over the matter of the rebels being led by a purported brother of Sivadji Guldir with a derisive laugh. He never dwelled on it, so I'd have to say that he dismissed the possibility." Then her face lit up as she recalled something, growing suddenly grim as she brought it to mind.

"What is it, Rachelle? Have you remembered something critical?"

"Ugly, Setne. Perhaps it is critical. I don't know. It is something that General Ratha said before I led him into accounting the current difficulties with the rebels."

"Go on, please."

She cleared her throat as If she wanted to spit from the bad taste of what she was going to say. "I had commented on the maharajah's evident desire to be surrounded with concubines at all times, inquired about wives and harem ..."

"And?"

"After hearing the Sivadji Guldir had not married but contented himself with some hundreds of concubines and slaves, I asked the logical question: 'What will he do for an heir?' Then the general gave a laugh of wicked sort. Heir? He has any infant born in the harem taken and killed, just as he executed all of his siblings to become monarch of this land! Our maharajah has no worries about living long, maybe forever, save being cut down by an assassin. When none can claim the Peacock Throne by blood, there is no threat, you see.' That is as close as I can come to his exact words, Setne. The maharajah is a monster! No wonder he has hired a witch as his court practitioner," Rachelle concluded as the realization struck home in her mind.

"Quite possibly," Inhetep said as he put his arm around her shoulders in support and comfort. "That is the sort of thing we have vowed to face, though, dear girl; the purpose of what we undertake is just what we are finding here. Brace up. I have suspected much of this since before we actually arrived in the capital and were confronted with 'His Resplendence' for the first time." Rachelle hugged him back, took a deep breath, and was herself again. "Good! You must be clear and keen of mind, you see. You'll need to be at your best tomorrow."

The amazon looked at him inquiringly. "Why so? Do we—"

"No. You. I agree to your suggestion, Rachelle. Tomorrow, when I am spending some time following a clue which directs me to the thieves' quarter of the city, and thus able to wander the streets of Delhi on my own, you will call upon the Pirimah Lady Sujata as you urged. You will ask her whatever questions you wish, make notes, then be beguiled by her wondrous charm and personality. When the 'formal' inquiry is concluded, your real work will begin, of course!"

"Of course, Setne. I know all about managing that sort of thing. After all, I've had enough experience gallivanting all over the globe keeping you safe. There is one thing, though."

Inhetep's brows shot up. "One? What is that, my dear?"

"What do I tell the 'lady' when she asks what you found out about the 'all-seeing eye' you discovered peering at you before her boudoir

door?"

"Bah!" was the only response she could elicit on that score, as the magister stalked off to wash before retiring.

— 11 ——

SOCIALIZING WITH A WITCH

Before he left on his own investigation, the magister spoke to Chancellor Gorvan about the matter. Naturally, the man was uncertain but had no choice but to agree, cautioning that the maharajah would stand for no delays. Ignoring the veiled threat, Inhetep pushed on. "The Sahibah Rachelle, Chancellor, will remain here in the palace to pursue our investigations. In that regard, you will inform the Pirimah Lady Sujata that I urgently beg she give her attention to my associate. Please convey my regrets at being unable to see to this personally. Do tell the Lady Sujata that I look forward to seeing her later today, of course. In the meantime, the Sahibah Rachelle is going to gather information which I need to solve the crime. She is competent, having had some fair exposure to the work in the past. It saves my valuable talents for more pressing concerns."

Gorvan could understand the latter well

enough. "As you wish, Sahib Magister. I will Impart your request to the Lady Court Practitioner just as you voiced it to me. How many men will you need for your foray into the city?"

"Why, none at all," the wizard-priest said with airy authority as he walked away from the startled fellow.

The chancellor went hastily about taking care of things immediately after Inhetep departed. Gorvan was most circumspect when it came to relaying the magister's message to Sujata. Deep in his heart, the chancellor feared the woman greatly.

"Do make yourself comfortable, sahibah," the pirimah said sweetly as one of her slaves brought Rachelle into her salon a little after mid-morning. Sujata remained seated at her dressing table, finishing the last touches of her toilet— kohl and perfume. She didn't turn around as she spoke.

Rachelle could see the woman in the mirror. Well preserved for one so old, she thought sourly, then relented a little. Lady Sujata looked exquisite in the bright morning light, appearing to be no more than thirty, her skin and body younger still. It was the heavily kohl-rimmed eyes which betrayed her as being past the first bloom of youth. Just then, the woman's eyes caught hers in the mirror. "Please call me Rachelle, Pirimah," she said easily, allowing her eyes to rove on as if she were merely taking in the well-furnished, feminine room which belonged to the chief heka-user of the court.

"And you, Rachelle, may call me Lady Sujata," the woman said with a friendly firmness belied by the words. "I understand your master has sent you here to ask me some questions. I will be available in just a few moments, child." With that the pirimah returned to her primping.

This treatment came as no surprise to the amazon, of course. The assumption of superior-inferior roles, the belittling of her status with the magister, even the lack of courtesy displayed in not offering refreshment were natural. Sujata was a female, after all, Witch or no, a woman who found Setne attractive and intended to do something about it would behave thus. Should she go beyond the mild flirtation stage, the pirimah would become even more slyly aggressive. Rachelle usually chose different means of expressing herself, getting her way. She was well able to understand Lady Sujata's methods, for Rachelle was herself an expert. She knew how to use indirect approach, insinuation, position, influence. Rachelle could use her intelligence to play on sympathies, use her femininity and beauty, and it was now easier to do so. Her opponent allowed her own conceit to cloud her judgment. Armor and sword hid a strong mind and keen wit from the witch's eyes.

"You are most kind, Lady Sujata. I do hate to bother you. I know that being the head of the maharajah's magickal affairs is demanding, that you have so many important things to attend to. Please do not huriy because I am here. I am content to wait, see how it is that you bring out your natural beauty as you do." When the woman seemed surprised at her statement, Rachelle purposely made it seem she misunderstood. "Oh! I have offended you. I didn't mean to imply I was staring as you put on your makeup, Lady Sujata. It's just that in my role as a swordswoman I am not treated to the secrets of such feminine things."

The pirimah warmed a little, turned. "Poor thing, I hadn't thought of that. Hard armor and clumsy weapons are the poor tools of men, and yet you must rely on such. Yet you seem pretty enough even without those touches which make beauty what it is. Yes . . . with my direction we could make you over into one not even the maharajah himself could keep from lusting after beyond all else," Lady Sujata said with a speculative air as she gazed at Rachelle as she might inspect a fat calf brought for slaughter.

Resisting the urge to strike the woman, nauseated at the thought of the toad-like monarch pawing her, Rachelle shook her head and said, "No, Lady Sujata. I would never want to be beautiful for any man's pleasure—to be a plaything is abhorrent to me. Perhaps being a war-rioress is better. That way I am equal to men."

"Aaah, ha, ha, ha!" the woman laughed in something between pity and derision. "What a novel idea. To be equal to men!"

"You may laugh, lady," Rachelle said, allowing a hint of envy and irritation to seep into her voice. "You are high in the council of a king! Why, you must be the third or fourth most powerful person in Delhi—and a woman!"

The woman tossed aside her cosmetics, stood erect, and advanced on Rachelle as if she were a tiger about to seize its prey. "Third or fourth? You are a stupid little thing. I am the one who directs every action of that fat fool—" Lady Sujata bit off her words. She stared at the ama-zon, her eyes bright and hard, as if trying to read Rachelle with some malign power. There was no response from the young woman, though. Rachelle looked up with incomprehension, nervously returning the witch's gaze. She betrayed no sign. Her aura was straightforward, her thoughts were of personal success, domination. "Either you are a sister or a clever foe—which is it, Rachelle?"

"I ... I don't understand, Lady Sujata. I am here only to ask you for details which Magister Inhetep has dictated. I am certainly no enemy of yours how could I be?"

"Umm. Perhaps, perhaps. We will let that be for now. It is time for my breakfast. You will ask your questions while I eat. Come with me " Without waiting to see if Rachelle complied with her order, the pirimah walked purposefully through an archway which led to a shaded veranda. There a table and chairs stood, the former spread with a white cloth and covered with silver dishes.

Rachelle seated herself across from the woman after Lady Sujata had allowed a servant to attend to her at her own place. When the pirimah had taken a little crystal container of fruit juice from where it had lain half-buried in ice in the heart of a covered dish, and sipped, Rachelle took a deep breath and began.

"Who is the most ardent foe of the maharajah?"

Sujata opened her mouth, then shut it quickly. After a few seconds, she took up a little piece of some exotic Hindic fruit and daintily ate it. "Why do you ask that?"

"The magister needs to compile a complete list of suspects."

"You don't have anything with which to write down what I tell you."

"I have a very good memory, lady. I seldom need such an aid."

The woman smiled. "Good." Her look was distant, as if she were considering another topic entirely, however. Then the pirimah's eyes were aimed at her questioner. "His Resplendence has only one meaningful opposer here in

Delhi—and that includes the kingdom, you understand?" Rachelle said she did. "Do you know about the rebels?"

Turning tables was a device which Rachelle could avoid without seeming to. "Only what the blustering general told me. Nothing substantial. Is it among those outlaws that the chief enemy of the maharajah is to be found?"

"Yes. I don't suppose Ratha mentioned his claims, gave you his name. ..."

"He told me only that the man pretended to be of royal lineage. Please tell rne his name— pretend and actual." The pirimah admitted that the leader of the insurgents was known to them only as "Rama-dharma, the duty of Rama." At hearing that, Rachelle said, "Wasn't Rama a great hero of antiquity who became a deity through his nobility and strength of purpose?"

"A cursed dog," the woman said vehemently, no trace of fear showing at giving such offense to a deity.

"You mean the rebel, of course."

"Don't speak for me. I mean both! If I knew the pretender's actual name, though, little one, he would be no threat to the throne. Get on with your questions."

With her uncertainties well hidden, the amazon did as she had been told. "There is but one foe, the rebel calling himself Rama-dharma. There are no others. But what about palace intrigues—are there none who would see the maharajah discomfited by the loss so as to gain

thereby?"

"What would be the gain? All in positions of power here stand or fall by the fate of Guldir— the maharajah—at least for some time. Nobody here has the brains to range into the distant future. Not the general, nor that weakling Gorvan. All the others are petty, without hope of anything beyond retaining their current, undeserved, rank. Besides, to have done what was done dangerously weakens not only the maharajah but all who serve him."

That made her sit up mentally, but again Rachelle hid her intense interest in what she had heard. "The loss is humiliation if news of it should be broadcast. Lady Sujata, but surely the lack of even such precious ornaments as the crown jewels inflicts no important loss of power."