Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (26 page)

"Fine," the magister said not looking up from his book. "Let him remain thus."

Rachelle had looked from her work as soon as she heard the butler's diy throat-clearing, and it was she who discerned that something was up. "You can handle the matter of mail, can't you Djemer't?" she asked archly, knowing full well that that was what he wanted someone else to do.

"No, my lady. Not in this case. It is a matter for His Lordship."

"Setne ..."

"Yes, my dear," he said, not looking up for her, either.

"Setne!"

He gave a sound of exasperation, flipped down the ribbon to mark his place, and snapped the volume closed. "What is the matter with you—and you as well, Djemer-t?"

Rachelle ignored him then, bending over a plant which seemed to be troubled by aphids. The butler did not neglect responding. Djemer-t looked down his long, ancient nose at the magister and said, "It is the post rider, my lord, as I initially informed you. He is without."

"A post rider without what?" Then Seine's mind finally focused on what had been said, and he stood up. "You come and disturb my reading to tell me the post rider is at the door? Have you gone into dotage? Take whatever mail he has for us and bring it here like a good fellow!"

"No, my lord." Djemer-t was unflinching as a cedar.

It took Inhetep aback. "No? Well, for heavens sake, why not?"

"Your instructions, my lord. You do recall the incident some time ago when a parcel was delivered."

"What's that got to do with this?"

"Your lordship will have to see for himself," the old butler sniffed, doing his best to conceal

an inner sense of triumph as he left the magister standing there.

Inhetep stared after him a moment, then said, "Well, I guess that means I'll have to go to the door and accept whatever missives the rider has brought."

"Wait a second, Setne. Ill come with you." Rachelle dropped her scissors and hurried to catch up with the long-legged wizard-priest.

There at the door was a rider in the garb of one of Pharaoh's Posted Service. As soon as Inhetep saw him, though, he understood why the butler had acted as he did. So did Rachelle. The man was certainly a Hindi, and the horse he sat astride was somehow oddly unhorselike. RacheLle's hand flew toward her ever-present dagger, while the magister's own reached to take up his ankh. The grin on the fellow's face stopped them both.

"No, no, sahib arid sahibah. I am no messenger of Sivadji the Toad. I come from the rightful maharajah , he whose name I may not yet speak but hope to soon proclaim from the highest tower in Delhi as ruler. He sends you his greetings, his thousand thanks, and this!" So saying, the rider tossed a square package to the two, turned his mount, and galloped off. The animal which bore him moved at a startling speed as its hooves worked into the air as if it were a long hill. Soon both rider and steed were

gone from sight, disappearing into the eastern sky.

"I am astonished," Inhetep finally managed.

Rachelle was gleeful. "Did you hear? He called him a
toad!
Come on, let's see what's inside the parcel!"

"Perhaps we should just—"

"Don't say if, Inhetep!"

The magister turned with resignation, stalking back to the garden, Rachelle in his wake. Much to the consternation of Djemer-t, they said nothing as they passed, but both wore expressions of smugness which the butler found intolerable. He watched them pass, then stumped off to make the cook's life less pleasant.

Sure that none were watching, Inhetep opened the wrappings and gave the box they had contained to Rachelle. She opened it and cried aloud for joy: "Look, Setne! You've
got to
see this. Why, it's a whole ensemble for me—a tiara, a necklace, earrings, bracelet, and a ring, too! Rubies bigger than that the fat toad sent— diamonds and pearls!" She held up the box so he could share her delight.

Inhetep made appropriate noises of appreciation. "You see? Those who know me know that you are the part of the team to bestow gifts upon. They will do you justice, my dear."

"Thank you, Setne. You are the most wonderful man a girl could hope for," and she kissed his cheek. "They are splendid, aren't they?" He agreed. "There is a problem, though, Setne dear. . . . Whatever will I wear them with?" That was a question he had anticipated with dread, for he knew the only answer possible.