The Temple Dancer (55 page)

He turned in the darkness, seeing no one, but now certain someone
was there. "Speak now, and I will not harm you," he said in a loud voice.
One of the horses looked up and snorted; otherwise there was silence.

For no clear reason, only a sense of being watched, Pathan spun
around. Behind him, clinging to the great branches of a pirpal tree were
two huge, dull brown cocoons. Before his eyes, they burst open-he now
saw that the cocoons were merely blankets tied into the branches. Instead
of moths, two men emerged and walked slowly to Pathan. Both carried
bows with arrows notched.

"She said you were good. She said that you would find us, and you
have." The cocoon men grinned at one another.

"Yeah, you're pretty good. We could only have killed you three or four
times," the other said, and both men laughed.

"What do you want here? Who told you about me?"

"Calm down. We've got a message. Some farang who says he's your
friend. Says you owe him a favor." The first man gave a leering grin. "Time
to pay up, he says." The man paused, and his lips twisted into a gruesome
smile. "There's some problem with another farang ... about some other
farang ..."

"Farangs ..." laughed his friend.

Pathan's face grew very still. "Why come to me? Why don't you help
him?"

The two men shared a look. "He don't want us making a mess of
things, Captain. His very words." Pathan raised an eyebrow. "It's true,
Captain. He says you're the only one can help."

"Why? What is this special task?"

The bandits glanced at each other. "Captain, he wants you to kidnap a
murderer."

In Slipper's tent the lamps guttered and all but one went out. Da Gama dozed
fitfully. Finally sunlight seeped in. Outside he heard muffled words he could
not quite catch. He was hungry, and thirsty, and he needed to pee. For what
seemed like an hour, Da Gama struggled with his bonds.

At last he gave up and fell back on the divan, and to his humiliation
found himself sobbing. He choked back the sobs and cursed his weakness,
but it took a while before he could stop. Then he slept. He woke soaked in
sweat as from a broken fever. The air had grown hot and smelled of damp
wool. No one came to bring him water. There was nothing to interrupt his
dark thoughts.

At last his guards came in, and he was so spent from being alone, he
welcomed them. They said nothing, however, but scooped him to his feet
and blindfolded him. The guards marched him outside. At least they let
him pee.

Around the blindfold edges, Da Gama could see a little: the yellow jet
of his urine, and the brass tip of the guard's scabbard, and blue flowers
crushed beneath his boots. As they walked he watched tiny patches of
shade along the path. When they yanked him to a stop, Da Gama caught a
glimpse of one of Geraldo's boots. After standing for a long silent moment
the boot disappeared.

Then one of the guards grabbed Da Gama's shoulder, spun him
around, and gave him a kick. He tumbled forward. He landed in a sprawl
on a kind of bed. Gentle hands touched him and guided him onto it. Seeing
a bit of scarlet pattern in a satin cloth, he realized they'd thrown him in the
palki. He squirmed to sit up.

"Here, Deoga," came Maya's voice. She leaned over him to pull him
forward by the arms.

"Where's Lucy?" he whispered.

Maya fussed with a cushion, trying to make him comfortable. "She's
riding a horse."

"Idiots." Da Gama could just imagine the discussions between Slipper
and Geraldo that had led to this arrangement. Scowling, he struggled, futilely pulling at his bound wrists. He gave up with a gasp.

"They're watching. I can't help you," Maya whispered. "And they see
when we speak. Say nothing, Deoga. It is not safe. I pretend to cry, and
speak from behind my hand. We're on our way to Gokak Falls, to the camp
of the Sultana."

From every side came the sounds of a caravan forming up. "I know,"
Da Gama answered. "I mean, I guessed. Is Lucy in front or behind?"

"She rides before us. She neither speaks nor moves. Around her shoulders she wears one of Slipper's robes. They would not untie her even to let
her dress."

The palki bearers grunted and Da Gama and Maya lurched into the air.
The caravan was on the move.

They traveled for more than an hour, uphill mostly. The bearers' breath grew
short; they panted with their effort. Beyond them came the deep booming of
the falls. At the camp they had heard the distant rush of water. Now the
sound grew constantly louder, a dull thundering roar, and now and again the
unexpected blast of water slapping rock. "We're close," Da Gama said.

Their pace had slowed; the path here was uneven-broken rocks beside
the river's edge. The palki began to pitch as the bearers stumbled. They
stopped often, and the palki heaved unexpectedly. At last Da Gama heard
Geraldo's command to halt, and with a suddenness that confirmed their
exhaustion, the bearers dropped the palki with a bump.

"Geraldo comes," Maya whispered.

"Let him."

A moment later an unseen hand yanked off Da Gama's blindfold. He
blinked at the sunlight. To their left, a stark rock wall towered forty feet into the air; to their right the river Ghataprabha churned. White cascades
broke over hidden rocks. The path was punctuated by broken cubes of
stone, each about the size of a strongbox. In time the river had swept them
into tumbled heaps, as a child sweeps aside toy blocks. One could walk the
trail, but only by choosing each next step carefully.

Directly ahead they saw the edge of Gokak Falls. The falls fell fierce,
swollen from the recent rains. Mist boiled from the canyon and rose into
the blue sky. The river here was wide and shallow, its current treacherous.
The other shore was a riot of plants, vines, and trees twisted in impenetrable
confusion. A hundred yards or so ahead, where the falls had formed a
swirling pool, mists rose around a temple so ancient that vines had grown
through the colonnades, and its tower listed over the water as though about
to fall. Parts of its ghats, the steps that led to the water, remained intact.

Without his blindfold, the noise seemed louder. Da Gama saw Geraldo
speaking but had to strain to hear. "You're too big to carry, Da Gama.
From here on you walk," Geraldo yelled. He took a knife and sliced
through the ropes on Da Gama's ankles.

"Untie my hands," Da Gama shouted.

Geraldo merely smirked. He nodded to the falls. "Do you know anything about this place?"

Da Gama nodded. "I came this way once. It was in the dry season then.
Not so big as now. This path."-He snorted at his own description-"this
miserable trail, I mean, leads right through the falls."

"What?" Geraldo said. "Through the water?"

"It's easy enough in the dry season. You climb up there"-Da Gama
pointed with his chin to the trail that clung to the cliff face-"duck
through a trickle of water. It's just a little shower. Then you walk behind
the falls. There's a big chamber right behind the falls, a sort of cave carved
by the water. You walk through the chamber, get another shower, and then
you're out. In the dry season you don't even get too wet."

Da Gama looked around, trying to act nonchalant. He took in Lucinda
on horseback, the wide eyes of the anxious guards, the exhausted palki
bearers. "This is dangerous, Geraldo. Why did you choose this way?"

Geraldo sneered. "The goddammed eunuch chose it. I wanted to go the
long way, but he's beside himself to get to the Sultana by afternoon. I told
him-let's get there tomorrow if it means arriving in one piece. He ignored
me. I think we should turn back."

"You're right," Da Gama lied. A change in plan would affect Pathanif he even showed up. On the other hand, Da Gama thought, a detour
would buy Lucy a few more hours. "I'll speak to Slipper. Maybe I can talk
some sense into him." Geraldo looked skeptical. "Look, Aldo, I don't want
to die here." Geraldo at last closed his eyes and nodded.

With his hands still tied behind his back, it was hard going for Da
Gama to navigate the broken trail. At the head of the procession a few
guards stood next to Slipper's palki, only a few yards from the climb up to
the falls. Behind it came Lucinda, mounted on Geraldo's mare; then the remaining guards. Maya's palki, where Da Gama had ridden, came last, with
no guards at all.

"What did you do with Victorio?" Da Gama shouted over the roar of
the water.

"Buried him near the tents."

Like so much garbage, thought Da Gama. When they passed Lucinda,
who sat listlessly on one of the horses borrowed from Pathan, Da Gama
gave her a brave smile. Her expression never changed. "Has she had any
food?" he shouted to Geraldo.

"She won't eat," he shouted back. It seemed likely that he hadn't bothered to offer any.

They found Slipper speaking animatedly with one of the guards. So close
to the falls, he had to shout, of course, and his high voice pierced the air like
a trumpet. He greeted Da Gama with a warm smile. "We won't inconvenience you for long, Deoga. On the other side of the falls are the Sultana's
guards. Once we hand over the condemned, I shall see you are released."

The condemned, thought Da Gama. "Look, senhor, this is folly. The
path behind the falls is never easy. Look at the water coming down! With
the rains, the force is gigantic!" Da Gama struggled to make himself heard.

But Slipper's mind was made up. "I'm sick of this foolishness. I'm getting back to civilized society, and as quickly as I can!"

"It's madness! The palkis will be swept away and the bearers with
them."

"Who cares about some old bearers, Deoga?"

"You will, if you're in their palki, Senhor Eunuch."

Slipper pulled Da Gama by the arm, right to the river's edge. "Look,
Deoga! Can you see the Sultana's guards, right over there?" Da Gama
could make out their green turbans through the swirling mist. "I've been through the back of those falls a dozen times. The Sultana loves this place.
It's easy!"

"Have you done it after the rains? When the water storms down? I
don't think so."

Slipper's expression showed that Da Gama had guessed right. He
glanced at the path behind the falls, then back to Da Gama. "You say a
palki won't make it through?"

"A man on foot, maybe. But not a palki."

Slipper considered this. His eyes kept drifting to the other side, to the
green turbaned guards. He licked his plump lips, like one anticipating a
feast after long fasting. "We'll go through on foot then, Deoga!"

"What about the palkis?"

"We'll send them back. Pathan's can go home, and ours can go the long
way." Slipper sized up the falls and the procession with a surprisingly professional glance. "What about the horses?"

Da Gama squinted. All this worry made his brain hurt. "Maybe.
Maybe they can make it. Those falls are treacherous, senhor! Look!"

Of course, by now Slipper's golden turban had come unwound, and it
was soaked by the spewing mist. Water dripped down Da Gama's face, and
from his queue along his back. "Well, we can't get too much wetter, can we,
Deoga?" Slipper grinned. "The Sultana's camp is just a few yards from
here. On the other side of those falls is safety, comfort, and justice. We can
get a little wet and be there in an hour, or we can trudge uphill and down for
a day, or two, or even more. I'm already wet, senhor. Let's go through!"