Tantrics Of Old (17 page)

‘Thus your consciousness is more developed. It will be tougher for you.’

‘Why are you constantly dissuading me?’

Adri sighed. ‘There’s not much to it—ow!’

‘Sorry.’

‘—yes, not much to it, but fine, I will tell you what I know.’

Maya finished bandaging the shoulder and took a step back, inspecting her handiwork. ‘How does it feel?’

Adri moved his left arm slowly. ‘It’s tight. But it will heal. Thanks.’

Maya smiled. ‘You’re welcome. Glad I could do
something
!’

Adri smiled back rather grudgingly.

‘There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you, since you do tend to leave a lot unexplained,’ Maya continued.

‘Yes, I tend to do that. Ask.’ Adri hoped it wasn’t going to be about the amulet she was sure to have spotted hanging from his neck.

‘Witches,’ she said, and Adri breathed once more. ‘You told me they could
mark
someone.’

Adri nodded. ‘Yes, when they do that, they gain a certain amount of power over that individual. What happens then is that the individual’s smell gets recognised by the entire Coven. Think of it as a most wanted poster. All the witches will immediately recognise the marked person by smell and come after him as soon as he’s in range of their abilities.’

‘That sounds ghastly.’

‘It
is
quite tiresome,’ Adri said, and brought his left palm in the light, where a burn mark, scorched into the flesh, stood out black and circular.

Maya’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re marked?’

Adri nodded, a grim smile playing on his lips.

Maya shook her head in disbelief. ‘You are
so
full of surprises.’

Adri chose to not reply, again.
There are reasons why I do not tell you everything
.

‘This house, for example,’ Maya continued, ‘and Smith. Who’s he?’

‘Have you heard of the Defenders of Old Kolkata?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’s one of the surviving three. The Gunsmith.’

‘I heard rumours about them being alive, but still, wow. How do you know him?’

‘My father used to be a Defender as well. The Gunsmith, like my father, retired from an eventful life. The weapons he made are still the best though, and he still makes them for a very select clientele. I’m one of them.’

‘So that gun you used against the witch—’

‘Built by him, yes. He’s dependable, and we needed to make this stop. I need to stock up on ammunition and ingredients, maybe another gun. I also need to put some more protective enchantments in place before we leave. I can’t afford to be taken by surprise again.’

‘Which way are we going after this?’

‘I haven’t really decided yet. How about we all catch some dinner right now? You must be hungry.’

‘Not really. But dinner seems okay.’

Dinner was an enormous affair. Smith was a good cook—the meat was delicious and everyone loved it. There was stiff, guarded conversation, and Smith asked about where they were from, but nothing about the purpose of their visit. After dinner, they gathered near the fireplace again and the siblings were reminded of how the fire was there only for the light it provided, though it was nice to watch the flames. Smith pulled a couple of armchairs out and all of them settled comfortably; the fire burned without fumes or smoke, magical in nature. Smith sat with a wooden box on his lap. It contained a pipe and tobacco. He started filling his pipe while everyone sat silently.

‘Why do you guys smoke?’ Maya asked.

Smith almost dropped his pipe. He looked at her incredulously. Adri, cigarette in his mouth and matchbox in his hands, froze.

‘Excuse me?’ Smith asked.

‘Smoke. Why do you people smoke? I mean Adri here has smoked so many cigarettes since we met him! And now we see you smoking as well. Is it ritualistic?’

Adri and Smith exchanged glances.

‘Sort of,’ Adri replied finally. ‘You see, fire keeps spirits away, acts as a natural guard against almost every kind of spirit. Because of this, all Necromancers are trained to carry a pack with them, just to ward off unnecessary spirits in public places. When the cigarette’s burning, spirits in general tend to avoid you.’ He didn’t do a good job at sounding convincing.

‘But what about cancer?’ Maya asked. She wasn’t accusing, but her questions had uncomfortable needles to them.

‘The life expectancy of an average Tantric is about thirty years,’ Smith said gruffly, not looking at Maya, filling his pipe once more.

‘Thirty for a
good
Tantric,’ Adri said, still not lighting his cigarette. ‘It’s a noted fact that smoking has saved several Necromancers on various occasions, thus
increasing
their life expectancy.’

‘Yeah, that’s a true word, that is,’ Smith nodded.

‘Aren’t
so
many Tantrics all old and stuff?’ Gray asked rather cautiously. ‘I mean I’m not against the whole smoking thing, but I just want to know.’ Maya gave him a poisonous look before she turned to the two.

‘You see the few who make it there. Necromancers are the most killed lot. Quite a few are trained, and quite a few die during the training itself,’ Smith replied. ‘It’s brutal, that’s what it is. All it takes to kill a Necromancer is one tiny mistake, one slip up while calling upon a spirit, or a Demon. Seen too many go that way.’

Adri finally lit his cigarette. ‘Dangerous profession,’ he muttered.

‘You were one of the Defenders of the Old City, no?’ Gray asked Smith, who nodded slowly in reply. ‘Aren’t you a hero then?’ Gray continued. ‘I mean, why stay here in Old Kolkata?’

Adri understood where the question was coming from. Gray and Maya had walked their way through a wasted, dilapidated city that was now a mere ghost of its former self, fraught with danger and mysterious in every way. Not having ever seen the city in its full glory, how could they be expected to ever understand the Gunsmith’s love for the city? Or his own love, for that matter?

Smith lit his pipe. ‘You do not understand,’ he said simply, his voice low. There was silence before Gray replied.

‘Well, make me.’

‘Old Kolkata has a beauty no other place has,’ Adri stated.

‘I understand the appeal of a place destroyed, of the fragments . . .’ Gray began.

‘No,’ Smith said. ‘What Adri means isn’t that. Old Kolkata has
soul.’

Gray looked blank.

‘There’s more than bricks and mortar keeping this city together. It’s seen everything there is to see—from war to famine to political unrest to utter chaos—and it has survived. Something about the city keeps it together; it is that, that something that we find the charm in, despite everything dangerous that’s inside and every building that’s broken.’

‘I still don’t get it,’ Gray muttered.

‘And you won’t,’ Smith said. ‘It’s not something for you to get, you who just steps in from wherever it is you come from. It’s something
we
know, we who have been with the city through the times it has faced, we who will be here. I am here because the Old City is here. I don’t protect it any longer, yes, but I guard my memories. Oh, and no offense meant.’

‘History makes the city breathe, Gray,’ Adri said quietly. ‘You will hopefully understand in time.’

‘I wasn’t born here,’ Gray said. ‘Most of my generation was born in New Kolkata, but I know this is where my ancestors were. No one stayed here because of its wretched condition.’

‘No one? A lot of people chose to stay,’ Smith replied with a touch of scorn. ‘There were always the people who couldn’t support their families here, and they left. They weren’t the only ones. People who couldn’t deal with change, even people who loved the city, people who could not witness it broken. Obviously, the hardships here are not for everyone. And it’s not like MYTH let everyone enter New Kolkata.’

‘Excuse me?’ Maya exclaimed.

‘MYTH does not let survivors inside New Kolkata,’ Smith said. ‘I’m not surprised you didn’t know. MYTH is good at acting as the perfect government.’

‘They don’t let people in? But what about the train?’

‘We
left
the city,’ Adri said. ‘I daresay you will find measures stricter when you try to get back in. Both of you are already citizens so you’ll be let in, don’t worry.’

‘I thought New Kolkata was open to everyone!’ Gray said.

‘Yes, that’s what they make it sound like.’

‘But-but didn’t
you
work for MYTH?’ Maya asked.

Smith swore loudly.

‘Ah,’ Adri spoke.

‘I would never work for those bloody bureaucrats!’ Smith cursed. ‘Don’t you know the Defenders never worked for MYTH? They worked for the city!’

‘Victor Sen was one—’

‘My father left MYTH when he was a Defender,’ Adri cut in. ‘He was a rogue Necromancer for a long while and MYTH hunted him for years. It was much later that he came back to MYTH and the government applauded him, making him into what you know him as. Maya, you have to understand that people here in Old Kolkata do not take kindly to MYTH; or for that matter, knowing that you hail from New Kolkata. Most powerful figures here are anti-establishment, and it’s best you remember that from now.’

‘But why this antagonism? What has MYTH done?’ Gray asked. ‘Hasn’t it protected people inside New Kolkata?’

‘No,’ Smith said. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, son. MYTH needs your taxes, your services. New Kolkata was built for a reason, and now the territory wars are happening for the same reason. As is the case with Old Kolkata. MYTH is looking for something.’

‘For what?’ Maya asked, hanging on to every word.

‘We don’t know,’ Smith replied darkly. ‘But there have been several instances to prove that MYTH works on an agenda which goes beyond the obvious
people-need-saving
and
evil-needs-punishment
mask. The other governments keep their peace. I wouldn’t see the Faces of Moonless Dilhi, the Sea Lords of Frozen Bombay or even the Warlocks of Western Ahmedabad trying to interfere with MYTH’s work.’

‘What’s happening with the territory wars these days, Smith?’ Adri asked. ‘We’ll be heading in that direction soon, I think.’

Smith raised an eyebrow.
You’ve got one hell of an explanation pending
. Adri acknowledged him with the tiniest of nods.

‘You know how it is,’ Smith replied at last. ‘Ba’al’s troops are powerful, and MYTH’s troops are numerous. The stalemate continues.’

Demon Commander Ba’al. Considered by many to be one of the strongest and cleverest, Maya remembered. A dangerous combination. She’d read a lot about him in her initial studies. She remembered Adri’s diary, where even Victor Sen seemed to be in awe of Ba’al’s power. It was obviously Ba’al who would be the leader of the Free Demons, none of the others really had the leadership to keep such a war running for ten years.

‘What about the Coven?’ Adri asked.

‘Bloody hellspawn,’ Smith swore. ‘They’re still around with their whole swooping act, coming in and interrupting battles, I’ve heard. The usual guerrilla tactics, obviously, those witches can’t ever face a Demon, or an Angel head on.’

‘I didn’t even get a good look at her,’ Gray said. ‘Are they nocturnal?’

‘They don’t like the sun,’ Adri replied. ‘But they’re not vampires or anything—they don’t burn up. They simply prefer the night.’

‘I remember some Commandos,’ Smith said. ‘Back some fifteen years or so, MYTH Commandos, thinking them witches to be creatures of the night, devising a trap. An entire pack of witches, say about seven or eight of them, were hoisted into the sunlight. Of course they didn’t burn. They ripped through the nets and then ripped through the Commandos; they didn’t even know about mercury in those days, poor devils. Magical firearms don’t count for shit if they aren’t shooting quicksilver.’

‘We learn through the mistakes of others,’ Adri said.

‘Yes, and when
you
make a mistake you die.’ Smith blew out smoke.

The mood was dark, and no one said anything. The fire burned, and two people smoked. It was not long before Gray excused himself.

‘I think I’ll get some sleep too,’ Maya said, rising with Gray. ‘Um, Smith? Do you have a map of this city I could borrow for now?’

‘Yes, I’ve drawn several over the years,’ the Gunsmith replied, rising from his armchair. ‘I will show you to your rooms as well.’

Most convenient, Adri thought, that the siblings decided to leave. He needed the Gunsmith to know several things. He needed to ask questions and hope for answers. Smith had his questions as well, evidently, and being one of the people Adri trusted with his life, he also had the sense to ask nothing in front of the siblings. He looked around the room and sighed softly. He used to come here as a child, with his father, and every time, Smith would argue with his father about giving him a gun for protection. When he finally did get a firearm, it was one the Gunsmith had made especially for him, one that served him well and for years. Reaching into his bag, he took out his shooter and turned it over in his hands.

It was a beautiful thing and he admired it once more as he had on countless other occasions. Magic needed to be channelled, and unlike Sorcerers whose very art lay in the channelling of different kinds of magic directly from their modified gauntlets, Necromancers needed to rely on magically modified firearms. Tantrics needed to be crack shots, and were taught to shoot from an early age. The weaknesses of each enemy were imbibed in bullets modified by decent bullet alchemists, and the Tantrics used different rounds for different enemies accordingly. Damage that wasn’t being done through the spirits or Demons they summoned had to be inflicted through these modified bullets. The silver gleamed in the light and shadow, and Adri was reminded of how old-school the weapon was. MYTH Commandos used automatic rifles that released magical ammo in a volley; but being mass manufactured, they lacked the power and the class of a personally crafted magical weapon. The Gunsmith remained one of the best weapon makers in the land; he took his time and made weapons only for a selective clientele, but the quality was always worth the wait. The last time Adri had seen the Gunsmith had been a year ago, and he hadn’t changed much. The retired defender now lived a life of loneliness in the Old City, doing Adri didn’t know what.