Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (17 page)

"You are ignorant. The regalia has more than symbolic significance."

Without adding to that, the pirimah turned her attention to the food, nibbling a little of this and that. Rachelle went over what she had been told for the woman's benefit. "There is only the bandit chief to look to then, and his motive in robbing the maharajah of the crown jewels was to hinder his plans by depriving the throne of the powers the regalia bestowed upon him."

Lady Sujata's eyes widened, and she looked at the amazon with a glimmer of new respect. "No. I didn't say that. It might be accurate in part, but it is inaccurate in general. Your magister will have to discover if some unsuspected villain who lurks in hiding perpetrated the crime. As to the motive, that is information unnecessary to the recovery of the lost jewels. After all, why else would I have recommended that the maharajah employ him? With his heka power and experience at this sort of thing, he should be able,
must,
get to the bottom of things before the dark of the moon. It is essential that the crown jewels be returned by that time."

Rachelle let out a little gasp. "Two days' time?"

"That is all. Can he do it?"

"The magister Is unequaled in his field. There are few suspects, possibly but a single one, and the lost items are potently charged with heka. If anyone can find them, Inhetep will."

The woman smiled thinly. "Good. He had better, for his sake and probably yours, too. But let us not dwell on unpleasantries. Tell me, do you wish your Magister Inhetep to marry you?"

"The wealth and position would be fine, but he is too hard to control." Rachelle lowered her tone as she confided, "If I had my choice, I would rather be married to someone more powerful than he, perhaps a vizier, one old and tractable."

Lady Sujata watched the amazon as she spoke. Her eyes were knowing. "Not a bad aspiration—for a woman of average abilities. Too uncertain, too many other women competing. You are educated?"

Even though it was more statement than question, Rachelle responded at some length. "Yes. It is usual for the middle and upper classes of /Egypt to be given some degree of education. For many years I was schooled. During that time, I was trained as a priestess of the goddess Neith."

"Were you, now? I thought we had some affinity. ... I am not acquainted with the pantheon of your land. What concerns your Neith? What teachings are ascribed to her?"

"Warfare is her forte, lady. She favors the bow, the hunt."

"I see. You are a huntress too, and ply a bow, 111 wager."

Rachelle's face showed how impressed she was. "That is so, my Lady Sujata. You are very astute."

"Astute is one way of putting it. Tell me, Rachelle, what is the true perspective of the goddess? She is not of the light, is she?" The pirimah's expression was crafty as she kept asking her questions. "You may speak freely to me, have no fear. I will repeat nothing, not even to the vaunted Magister Inhetep—rest assured you can trust rne."

"Light is far from Neith's ethos. ..."

Again the woman gave her somehow sinister-sounding laugh. "I thought so. You are a vassal of gloom stuck with a foolish fellow who thinks that there can be a position which bestrides light and darkness even as he violates his own tenets. Well, I am one who can use such fools to undo their ilk! You see, Rachelle, I too serve a dark goddess, one even more bloody and potent than this Neith of yours. Serve me and I will show you how you may bend men and even states to your will, and have all you desire!"

For the space of several heartbeats Rachelle sat frozen, staring at the woman's now-hard countenance. "You are a witch," she said at last.

"Is that so? And what if I am . . . ?" There was great menace in the question.

The amazon's hand made a sign, and she bowed her head towards the Lady Sujata. "I pay you homage, mistress. I am an initiate in the Black Craeft, but I have feared to take the last step."

"You show your wisdom by such hesitation. You must have a plan, know exactly what you desire to accomplish, before you commit. Now listen to me. I want you to act as my agent. You must learn exactly what your magister is doing. If you can, find out who has the jewels, where they are hidden. Tell me everything you learn. When the regalia of state is returned, I will rule Delhi through that toad who squats on the Peacock Throne. Then, in due course, as the maharani. If you have served me well, I will make you my lieutenant here, or else send you back to /Egypt if you so desire, to become great there."

"I can manage the carrying of information, Pirimah, but how can I accomplish the rest? I have no powers such as yours."

"But you will, for if you fulfill the task I have laid upon you, I will call up such a demon as you cannot imagine, one whose strength is unmatched. To him you will bend your knee, make your blood pact, and then you will wield the might needed to gain all you lust for. Men will serve you in thousands. Never will you need to be one of hundreds or dozens of women competing for a small place at the feet of some man."

Rachelle smiled. "It is a vision unreachable for most. I will serve you. Ah, but Lady Sujata, a moment! Doesn't the great goddess you are sworn to take umbrage at making a pact with the lords of the netherrealms?"

"Don't be silly. Why should black Kali object to my service to darkness? She may slay some dwellers therein, but it is her own place as well. I further her aims by being both a sworn witch and priestess of the goddess Kali!"

Rachelle stood up, inclined her head. "I will serve you as you command. Great Lady Witch."

"Of course you will take an oath to that effect."

"I swear my fealty and pledge my bond by Neith the Huntress."

Now the pirimah arose. "Not good enough. Follow me." She led the amazon into her bedroom. There she opened a tall cupboard, drew forth a box, and from inside it took out various items. "Hold out your hand." There was hardly a tremble as Rachelle thrust forth her little hand. "Pretty, but too calloused," Sujata observed as she used a lancet to pierce the tip of one of the fingers she grasped firmly. When a drop welled up as if it were a ruby bead, she touched a little doll to it. Now the figurine had a crimson mark upon its breast. "I place this upon the alter of Kali. Do you place yourself in the arms of the Black Goddess thus?"

"Yes," Rachelle whispered. She could say nothing else.

The witch used some charm to search for deception, then cast an augury to see if that revealed any duplicity. Neither means showed anything other than an unyielding determination on the part of the young warrior. "Then you are bound to her and to me. If you betray your oath, Kali's vengeance will take you—if my own fails, which I doubt."

—— 12 ——

DENIZENS OF DELHI

He arose and left their rooms so quietly that even the catlike senses of the amazon were not alerted to Inhetep's departure. He didn't concern himself with the sleeping Rachelle, for she had had her instructions, knew her work well— almost as well as he, the magister thought to himself with a satisfied grin. She looked so beautiful and childlike where she lay, but woe to the foe who thought she was vulnerable! Slipping out the door, the magister avoided the sentinel, heading for the rear portion of the palace. Surprisingly, he felt thirsty and a trifle hungry too, so Inhetep located the royal kitchens and asked for tea and something to eat. Wide-eyed, a scullion ran off to bring a cook, who in turn fled upon seeing the /Egyptian standing there. The pantler begged his forgiveness, at least, before hurrying away to find the steward.

"Please come this way, Sahib Magister," that 189

worthy intoned. "I will have a morning room prepared, a proper repast ready in but a brief time."

"Pish! You'll do nothing of the sort. Ill not budge from here. Listen carefully. I desire a big glass of tea and some food—bread will do. I want that brought to me here, now!"

The wizard-priest tapped his foot in impatience as the steward went around in confusion tiying to comply with the foreigner's strange orders even while making that part of the kitchen complex into something resembling a proper place for an aristocratic guest of the ma-harajah's to break his fast. Inhetep forbore scolding. He understood that the steward feared for his head if he displeased him or displeased his monarch by not treating a guest properly. The process was creating an ever greater uproar without increased promise of fulfilling the magister's instructions. Inhetep walked into the next room. Behind him there was a babble of shouting and the commotion of a dozen people trying to do their best to be in the same spot at the same time. The steward, pantler, cook, and baker were each demanding
he
be obeyed immediately. Thus, none noticed the departure of the one who had created the bedlam.

"Ill have that," Setne said firmly as he passed a startled worker and plucked a wooden bowl filled with a steaming, aromatic morning tea from him. He quaffed it off in big gulps as he continued along to another room, grabbed and ate a radish as he passed through. Outside finally, he found himself in the yard where ovens yielded flat loafs of bread. In fact, there was a whole pile of bread in his path. He snatched the top one and pulled it into two portions. "Wonderful!" the magister exclaimed as he sniffed at the fresh odor. "And it has onions baked into it, too. Perfect!" He stuffed a big hunk in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Ahh." He ate more, but after the loaf was about half gone, he had had enough.

Despite raised eyebrows, Inhetep managed to find and exit the palace compound through the rear servant's entrance. He was clad in the simple garb of a Hindi working man, but his towering height and copper-hued complexion set him apart at a single glance. Ignoring the uneasy glances of those who passed, the magister used his long legs to effect. Inhetep still held the hunk of onion-laden bread. In the space of a few minutes, he was many streets and a whole world removed from the splendor of the Maharajah Sivadji's tightly guarded fortress.

Seeing a grubby child with skinny limbs and a big belly standing in the street before him, the magister went a little out of his way to hand the boy the remains of his breakfast. "Here, lad, take this." The urchin grabbed the bread and ran off clutching his prize. Not knowing whether to laugh with shared joy at the boy's good fortune or cry at the conditions which allowed such abject poverty, the wizard-priest simply dusted his hands and walked on. If there were those who decried the near-absoluteness of the monarchy of Pharaoh, he thought, they would laud it after seeing what a true despot brings to his subjects. Only the determined could find a way to starve in /Egypt. Between industry and the many charities of temple and fraternal societies, not one in a thousand lacked sufficient, if plain, food. "Like bread and onions," he said aloud as he turned a corner suddenly.

Of course he was being followed. Inhetep's sixth sense had informed him, not that he actually needed such intelligence. Common sense told the wizard-priest that the maharajah and other officials would put their agents on his trail to watch where he went. With his legs moving very quickly now, he covered the ground between the corner and a narrow passage before anyone following could get a view of him. Then Setne ducked into the gangway and broke into a lope, bent over so as to minimize his height. One or two startled pedestrians hastily withdrew from his path. There was an even smaller adit angling off to the right. Inhetep jogged into it, followed it to where it branched into two dead ends, then went left and up a steep flight of stairs, almost lost in the deep shadows of this nearly lightless place where only a little rectangle of sky far overhead allowed day to show.

"Perfect," he panted aloud. There wasn't a soul in sight to hear him or to see what he was about to do. His ploy was as obvious in its own way as those following him. That is, whomever was trailing after him would know he was a practitioner of heka and expect him to use it to alter his appearance. Once it was certain that he had managed to get away from constant surveillance, some device to detect mag-ickal disguise or change would be used to attempt to locate him again. "Time for the alteration," he murmured. Less than a minute later, he was again Chandgar. He drew a strip of blue cotton from his baggy loincloth, replacing the white turban he wore with a blue one by wrapping the long strip around his head. The casting which altered his physical appearance also blanketed the wizard-priest in such a way as to conceal emanations from his person. Thus, he would be nearly invisible to searches for aural or magickal radiation. Too invisible, and thus visible—unless there were decoys.

The magister came back along his trail to the small passage. There he turned right, so as to continue away from the route which brought him to the hidden spot. Now none of the people he met gave him a second look, for he was just another Hindi dwelling in Delhi. The little lane soon opened into a courtyard. There was a fountain in its center, an upthrust block with a spout trickling water for the residents of the neighborhood. Around the plaza were a handful of peddlers, vendors, and a sprinkling of customers. Inhetep went to the busiest stall, a place where vegetables were offered, and thrust himself between a man and a woman to get to the very front so as to be able to peer closely at the produce offered. The two he had brushed past glared, and the man muttered a curse which the magister ignored. "Not what I want," he said to the seller, who likewise sent doom after him as he walked away. In about five minutes, he had been to each place there, bought nothing, but incurred the enmity of a dozen citizens by his rudeness.