Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (20 page)

When Braji asked about it as they went on, he told her it was for a friend who was an enthusiast of such things. "Your magick is more potent than such tools," she observed, "but better still I think is influence through emotion or even ideas. It is the means most natural for people. In the end, it will prove more powerful than even enchantments, I think."

The magister looked at her speculatively. Such insight for a young and uneducated girl was unusual—disconcerting, in fact. He began to wonder what he had loosed by his well-intentioned assistance. "Possibly, niece," he allowed. "Forget about all that now. Concentrate on finding some insurgent talk, or better still one you recognize as a rebel. And by the by, we will not be making any purchases from the silversmiths and goldsmiths. Your 'Uncle Chandgar' is not made of money!"

"I would never dream of so much as suggesting such a thing, Chandgar."

"Easy to say, but when women see things which they believe enhance their attractiveness, apparent status, or financial security, such intentions often fly off as does a loosed bird." He harumphed a little to underscore his point, for just ahead was the place where precious metals were shaped into forms which only the wealthy could afford.

Surprisingly, it was in this locale that the wizard-priest's hints brought the first positive response. A silversmith muttered back that he was nearly bankrupt because of the obscene taxation which took not only his money but made it hard for others to have enough to buy his wares. That sentiment was echoed several times, albeit only faintly, as the two worked their way along the small sector where precious metals were wrought. Inhetep violated his own admonition and bought a little gold ring for Braji, in order to see if that would elicit more from a proprietor who had expressed a veiled suggestion it was time for a new government.

That proved to be a useless purchase, save from the delighted girl's point of view.

Discouraged to some extent, the magister allowed Braji to guide him around to peer into some of the surrounding establishments, places that purveyed expensive and rare goods for those wealthy patrons coming to the quarter to buy silver, gold, and jewels. After what seemed a very long time to him, the shadows grew into lightless pools. Shops were closing, witchlights and torches were set out. "At last," he murmured. "It is time for us to find a place for our dinner."

"Yes, I fear so—and I have not nearly seen enough here," she agreed ruefully. "Still, I am quite hungry. Down that way a ways is where there are many places catering to the better castes who like to have their meals prepared and served to them outside their homes."

They dined well, Inhetep selecting what appeared to be a large but not overly expensive restaurant, one he assumed would have many customers of average and well-to-do sort. However, the place was nearly empty. Service was very prompt, attentive. The food was well prepared. All in all, the magister thought it a waste of time. He was becoming heartily tired of a steady diet of Hindic cooking with its mouth-burning spices and invariable curry and curry-like dishes. His companion seemed quite content, even thrilled, with it all. The attention she received from the males, from proprietor and waiter to other guests, seemed to add considerable zest to the occasion for Braji. When he suggested it was time to leave, she said, "So soon? I thought we might have more tea Her glances, though, were sent towards a nearby table where several handsome young men were sitting. "You can flirt tomorrow and for a long time thereafter, niece," Inhetep said a little irritably. "Right now I need you to get me to the last place on my agenda."

"Oh, very well," she said with resignation which was tinged with regret. Then she patted his hand. "You
are
like an uncle to me, a very dear uncle, Chandgar. Please forgive me for being infatuated with this new world you've shown to me." Braji spoke in a low voice meant only for him. "Yes. Tomorrow I
will
make it mine, and I owe you much for that—all. I will pray you find what you seek at the tavern where the poets and musicians gather. Then I will have really helped
you,
no?"

The place she took him to was one in which caste was ignored. This was truly amazing to the magister. It seemed that even in the rigid society of this land there were free spirits who disregarded the structures of society in favor of more reasoned and intellectual precepts, and possibly less restrained and carnal attitudes as well. No matter. It was just the sort of gathering he sought. The tavern was filled with students, performers, and all manner of others typical of such an establishment. He heard recitations of an inflammatory sort, ballads were sung which obliquely lionized outlaws, praised motives, and lauded deeds which the mahara-jah's government labeled as criminal and treasonous.

Inhetep and Braji found a table just vacated and got to it before the others looking for Just such an opportunity could claim it for their own. A plain serving woman took their order and eventually brought them their refreshments. Because the tavern was so busy, that took a long time, and a kindly young fellow at the next table gave Braji a cup of wine to tide her over until they finally got their own. That gesture, of course, enabled him to converse with his neighbors, principally with the pretty young girl and not the older uncle. In such an atmosphere, the magister felt able to speak more freely, and so he voiced support of freedom from tyranny, hinted he would support with money and even arm a cause which would place a new ruler upon the Peacock Throne. He drank much and bought drinks freely for others.

After about two hours, what the magister had hoped for occurred. Several people asked if they could join them at their table. The wizard-priest told them they of course could, they were welcome. Chairs seemed to appear from nowhere. Three young gallants and two girls were soon wedged in with Inhetep and Braji. With them came more drinks, passed around freely. After a little while, the fellow at the magister's elbow said, "You do not approve of the way Delhi is governed?"

"I see no good," Inhetep shot back without hesitation, "only ill. Yes. I agree with all those who are calling for change."

"Your words are vague, and their meaning could be taken in many ways. Can you speak unequivocally?"

The magister looked squarely at his questioner. The young man had intense eyes and a strong face. "Do you mean do I support the movement to put Rama-dharma on the throne?"

The fellow hissed at him, "Be careful! Speaking that name could bring death to you in summary fashion, even here. We must speak more, but not in this room. I will leave you now, go to relieve myself, and not return. Wait a reasonable time after I am gone, then you and your companion must go through the back to a private room. You'll find it easily, as it has a door marked 'private'. I'll be waiting for you there."

"How do I know this is not a trap? That you aren't an agent who will arrest us?"

He laughed loudly at that. "You do not know, save what is in your own mind and heart regarding that matter." Then he got up and left before any more could be said.

It took the magister some time to catch Braji's attention and pry her away from the two young men who were attentively conversing with her in evident competition, vying with each other to win her favor. Both frowned when Inhetep crushed their hopes. "Come along, niece. We have an appointment to keep now."

"But Uncle Chandgar, it is still very early!"

He stood up, placing a hand on her chair, and the other on Braji's shoulder. "There is tomorrow, you know."

"Yes, there is uncle. Sorry." Braji smiled at the two gallants, then arose and followed as would a dutiful niece. "I hope this is worth it," she said to Setne.

"Worth? Well, yes, I would say so. It is why I enlisted you in the first place, Braji. We are about to meet a rebel, or maybe even several of them, I think. Go to the back and through the archway, please." They made their way through the crowd, not huriying, attracting no attention as they exited. The arch gave onto a long hallway. Along it were several doors, including the one Inhetep sought. "The one with the privacy sign on it, Braji. In we go!"

As soon as he stepped through the door, he knew that he had at last found what he sought.

Also extinction. The two gallants who had been left sighing at the table were now behind them, their daggers pressing into not only the magis-ter's back but also the shapely Braji's. An assortment of blades bristled ahead where they must go. No question about it, here were rebels.

"If you so much as open your mouths or twitch you are dead," said the young man who had directed Inhetep to this trap. "Now walk very, very slowly towards me. We know that you have magickal prowess. One of us can read such things. Don't tiy to use any device or utter a casting."

The two did as ordered, and chairs were thrust forth for them to sit. Then, bound and blindfolded, Inhetep and Braji were questioned. After an hour or more, the magister was allowed to prove his claims. He assumed his true identity, told his inquisitors what his mission was, and why he had come seeking them. "Now you must listen to me for unless you do, your whole cause is doomed to failure."

"Just what do you have to say that we must listen to, Egyptian?" The young man who demanded that answer was called Garuda by the others. It was obviously a style assumed for his position in the insurgency.

"I need to know if your leader is indeed of royal blood. Then you must let us go, never saying that we met."

"You are mad!" Garuda sneered. "Free the man who is bound to recover the crown jewels, expose our leader, overthrow our cause? Kill them both!"

— 14 ——

DEATH DRAWS NEAR

"Where have you
been,
Setne?" Rachelle's voice quivered with repressed tension. Her face was drawn.

Exhausted from his long day and harrowing night, the wizard-priest didn't notice that. "Touring Delhi with a just-made-pretty young harlot," he said truthfully but with a light-hearted tone. The magister hurried on to tell her in a deeper and more earnest voice, "I did What I
think
was a good deed, you see. Had to in pursuit of this case, of course, but the motive was pure nonetheless. When I finally managed to find those I sought, I was rewarded by having a near-fatal meeting with a band of rebels who thought me a spy for the crown. . . . Despite that extremely close call, I believe that 1 would rate the day a fair success—fair to middling good, in fact!"

If she heard the first part at all, she didn't believe him. In truth, Rachelle's state of mind made it unlikely any of his later words registered fully. Her reply indicated this. "It is past midnight! Don't you have any consideration at all? I was worried half-sick!" She glared at him, and as he was about to say something she snapped, "What was that you said about where you'd been?"

"Never mind that. Once said is enough. But you! You
do
appear haggard beyond belief, my dear. There's more to your state than mere concern for me—I am quite a capable man, after all, and not even you really expect me to report in!" His words held no rebuke at all. He was greatly concerned. "Tell me, Rachelle, what occurred to you today to cause this? Was it the witch, Sujata?"

Rachelle burst into tears. It was something she had never done in all the time she had been his bodyguard and companion, hadn't done since she was past age ten or eleven. She tried to regain self-control, took a breath, and managed to blurt out. "O gods help me, Setne. I . . . I think 1 have doomed myself to betrayal of you or my own death. Ill not flinch from the latter, but how will you manage when I am no longer here by your side?" Then the amazon collapsed onto a chair and wept again, uncontrollably.

The magister rushed to comfort her. He held her for a minute, then wiped her tears away with gentle fingers as he made soothing sounds. "Come on now, girl! I just avoided a dozen blades and not a few fell castings in order to return here to you. What's this business about you being doomed? Nonsense, isn't it? This is the ur-kheri-heb-tepi Inhetep you are speaking to now, Rachelle. The master smeti, investigator-detective par excellence— unraveller of mysteries. Whatever it is, I am sure I can take care of it."

Those words had no impact, so he had to continue his simple, soothing touches to assist her in her need. It took quite some time to calm her. First, Inhetep carried Rachelle to the bed, then lay down beside her, and only after some time had passed thus, finally spoke about a variety of positive things to assist her in regaining her control.

At last she stopped sobbing and managed to stutter. "Hadd be . . . (sob!) . . . subthig to . . . (sniff!) . . . blow by dnose, blease, Sedne." Inhetep understood, and gave her a linen square. After wiping away tears and then clearing her nasal passages, the amazon seemed more herself when she told him, "This isn't me, Setne. This is the witch's sending at work on me. I am no sniveling coward! Her heka erodes my strength, makes me servile and afraid. You must remove this curse or I shall be useless to you!"

"Whoa there, my dear! Perhaps, perhaps not. More likely the latter, I must say! In either case, you make it an easier task of subversion by any means. That witch might use mere words, not heka, to affect you! By thinking and then speaking thus to reinforce the implanted idea, you help to undo yourself. Drive such fears from your mind now.
You
are your own person. Nobody controls you. No malign workings on the part of another will bend your spirit to conform to wickedness, reduce you to subservience to another's will. Say that." Rachelle did a fair approximation of repeating what Inhetep had commanded her to say. "Good. Keep going over that in the back of your mind. Believe it! Now tell me all about your meeting with the pirimah, please. Well soon set this whole dirty matter aright."