The Temple Dancer (58 page)

"You say that Geraldo is with the eunuch guards?"

"Yes," Shahji answered, "but those guards are quartered on this side of
the river. They'd stir up too much trouble in the harem." Shahji said this
with a straight face. "Enough. Let's face the battle like men." He led Da
Gama toward the palace, and the Sultana's audience.

The Flying Palace did not seem quite so huge once it had been set upon the
ground. Floating above the road, its enormous bulk suspended in the air by
straining elephants, one might assume that it was some sort of colossus.
But once it rested on the ground, one saw that the palace was scarcely larger
than some of the grand tents surrounding it.

Shahji passed the guards without a glance, though they lowered their
heads to him. Da Gama also slipped behind without challenge, for Shahji's
aura expanded to contain him. They strode up the wooden staircase-Da
Gama grunted with his aching bruises-then crossed into the main hall of
the palace, which had been set up for an audience, in imitation of the
Diwan-I-Khas in Bijapur Palace.

It was a square hall. At the far end, away from the double-entry door,
Da Gama saw a three-tiered dais: a silver railing around the first, a gold
railing around the second, higher dais. Behind the silver railing, on a silver
bench, sat Wall Khan, looking agitated. Behind the gold railing Whisper
leaned over a cone-shaped pile of dark green cloth.

"What's Whisper doing?" he muttered.

"Talking to the queen," Shahji answered.

Slowly the picture came into focus. It was not a pile of cloth, it was a
person, hidden under a vast, impenetrable array of robes and skirts and
veils. Near the peak of the mountain of cloth-for so it seemed to Da
Gama-he could make out a dark, horizontal slash, and if he stared hard,
he could see in the shadow of the veils the eyes of the Sultana. "Why does
she hide so?" he whispered to Shahji.

"She breaks tradition doing even this. No other queen had ever set foot
outside the harem."

Shahji led Da Gama through the stares of the brightly costumed
courtiers and to the polished silver rail, where he casually placed his hand.
Wall Khan looked at it and grimaced, as if he'd placed feces there. "Highness," Shahji said in a calm voice that filled the room, "here as you requested I present the farang Da Gama, called by many Deoga."

"How do you come to have this second name, sir?" The muffled query
of the Sultana was so soft Da Gama had to strain to hear.

Da Gama bowed, a deep and swooping farang bow that looked completely out of place in his borrowed jamas. "Your highness, it is a sort of
joke. I once stayed in Deogarh, but I could not say the name right. Now
this failure follows me wherever I go." The Sultana gave a polite laugh, like
a soft cough.

"But he is too modest, highness," Whisper said, in his rasping voice.
Only those close to the dais could hear. "This man single-handedly saved a
dozen children from a fire at the mosque of Deogarh. Then he returned to
brave the flames alone. He rescued the Koran of Nazamudin, and a hair of
the Prophet's beard."

"Is this true?"

Now he knew what to listen for, Da Gama could more clearly understand the Sultana's muffled words. "The tale grows in the telling, highness.
I did no more than any man might do under the circumstances. In truth I
wish it were forgotten."

"And yet you persist in recalling it, by using that name." A silence fell,
and Da Gama got the feeling that those hidden eyes were examining him.
Da Gama took a moment to glance around the room. In a corner, near a eunuch guard, Geraldo stared at him. He was still wearing the clothes he'd
worn at the falls, and they looked very damp. Once more the Sultana
spoke: "We have heard some conflicting stories, Deoga. We would hear
your version.

Da Gama gave another sweeping bow. "A nod will suffice, sir," Wali
Khan whispered.

"You were the burak for Victorio Souza?"

"We farangs say `settlement man,' your highness. We have not the subtlety of a burak, nor a burak's wisdom, as your advisors surely have already
told you."

"They told me, sir, that you were dangerous. Now answer my question."

Da Gama licked his lips and answered haltingly. "I'm a hired agent,
highness, and my services were employed for a settlement arranged by the
Dasanas. Victorio Souza was a trustee. In the end he defined my duties."

"You answer carefully, Deoga. Are you afraid of us?" Da Gama stirred
uncomfortably. He disliked standing still. He felt the eyes of all the court
upon him. "Never mind. An honest man has nothing to fear. Do you know
who killed Victorio Souza?"

Across the room Da Gama saw Geraldo straighten. "I don't know,
highness."

"Truly? It appears that you alone doubt the guilt of the niece. She had
poison, and she had reason."

Without looking, Da Gama could feel Geraldo's eyes boring into him.
"You did not ask for my opinion, highness, but for my knowledge. Many
persons in that camp had poison, highness. Even I had poison. And many
persons desired Victorio's death. But in truth, I do not know who killed
him. Not for certain."

Across the room, Geraldo's eyes grew wide. Da Gama nearly smiled to
see his reaction.

"We will not press that point for now. Another question concerns the
ownership of the nautch girl. Your master, Victorio Souza had ... a liberality of nature. In his generosity he promised that same woman to two persons." The thickly veiled head nodded barely perceptibly to Whisper and
then Wall Khan. "Do not concern yourself with knowledge this time; this
time, simply tell us your opinion in this matter."

Da Gama nodded to her, smiling a little, for he saw that she too was
subtle. Feeling his way as a man in a dark place, he answered. "The girl had
been promised to the grand vizier. Later Victorio changed his mind, and
agreed to sell her to the Khaswajara. The vizier expressed his prior claim.
I'm not sure how Victorio would have decided to resolve the matter."

"Lies!" Whisper fixed him with his old eyes. "Our brother Slipper was
there. He had made up his mind right before he died."

"My master Victorio would say, I fear, whatever popped into his head.
Had he lived five more minutes, he might have changed his mind again.
Highness, it's my opinion, since you asked me, that he planned to play
both sides against each other up to the final moment."

The Khaswajara pursed his lips, and Wall Khan scowled. The Sultana
sat in silence. "So tell us: What is your interest in this matter, Deoga?" she
asked finally.

"I have my obligation to the Dasanas; I must see that they are treated
fairly."

"It's been said that you were Victorio's partner."

Da Gama saw Whisper glance quickly toward Geraldo. He could not
see the trap, but sensed the danger nonetheless. "Your Highness mentioned
Victorio's liberality. He made many more promises than he kept. He promised partnerships. More than once. To me, and to others. Settlement men
don't believe in promises." He cast a glance toward Geraldo. "In my case, I
suppose he merely wanted me to lend him money. He had many debts."

"Deoga," the muffled voice said slowly, "you are most surprising. Here
is the Dasana estate, a great fortune, waiting only for you to reach out your
hand. Yet you avoid making a claim. Others have not been so reluctant."

Da Gama lowered his eyes and shrugged.

"Tell us, Deoga-who in your opinion owns the nautch girl at this moment?"

"Until a settlement is made, she is the properly of Lucinda Dasana,
highness, the heir of the Dasana fortune."

"That person is a villainess and a murderer, and her claim is forfeit!"
Whisper coughed with the effort of his speaking.

"She may be accused, but she is not condemned," Da Gama answered.
"And her estate, as I understand it, is forfeit only after her conviction and
her death."

"That should be easy to arrange," Whisper rasped.

"Except that she is gone, Lord Khaswajara."

"Abetted, highness, by this man!" Whisper lifted his bony finger to
the vizier. "Wall Khan's burak has betrayed your justice!"

The Sultana, hidden behind her wall of cloth, made no sign of having
heard. When she spoke again Da Gama thought he heard a pleading in her
muffled voice. "Deoga, to face difficulties is the lot of a settlement man, is
it not? How would you settle this matter?"

What's she like in there? Da Gama wondered. Young? Old? Devious?
Terrified?

He made up his mind to speak to her as to a sister, if he'd had one.
"Highness, it is up to us to do our best, and then leave the rest to God. First I would decide. Then I would enforce." Despite his aching body, he straightened. "Since no one has clear claim, maybe I'd begin by wondering how to
do the most good. The Khaswajara-what is his desire here? Has he become
a patron of the dance? Why does he want a nautch girl? Why this one? What
does she have, eh?" Whisper glowered at Da Gama, but he said nothing.
"And the vizier. Making promises and treaties with your enemies. Using that
young woman as baksheesh." Wall Khan gave a worried look, not certain
how to take this statement. "And yourself, highness. When you must choose
between two men of such stature, how can you have peace? I would ask-is
there any way to satisfy everyone? And if not, whose plea most benefits the
cause of the heir?"

Beneath her veils the Sultana sighed. "Oh, you are dangerous, farang.
You play upon us, mixing truth and doubt in equal measure. Like a conjurer, you gesture with one hand to distract us from the other."

Da Gama, regardless of the vizier's advice, bowed deeply. "You have
seen through me, highness. But I say this with my whole heart-better you
decide than I."

"Yes, there we agree, sir." She rose from her silver bench-she was so
small it was hard to tell that she had stood. A pair of eunuch boys rushed to
arrange her skirts so she could walk. "Our audience is at an end."

Wall Khan stood too. "But, Highness, what have you decided?"

"Nothing, sir. First we will speak to this nautch girl."

"Will Whisper be with you when you do?" the vizier said accusingly.

"That is our concern, sir, not yours." Without another word, she
moved to the door, trailing yards of cloth behind her. Whisper and the eunuch boys followed close behind, and after them a half-dozen eunuch
guards. All around Da Gama, courtiers bowed so low, they swept the floor
with the backs of their hands.

When the courtiers began to depart, murmuring to each other, Da
Gama approached the vizier. "You are not satisfied, sir."

"I am not. But at least you did not speak against me."

"I thought I spoke in your favor, sir, but who can tell." Da Gama lowered his head. "Someday I might need a job, sir. Your burak is gone."

The vizier hmmphed. "When that day comes, you'll know how to find
me. But who knows-maybe I too will need a job."

As he walked off, Geraldo came over. "Why did you not betray me, Da
Gama?"

Da Gama eyed him, wondering if he'd done the right thing. "I had my
reasons."

A shrewd look came into Geraldo's eyes, and his handsome smile reappeared. "You're afraid of me!"

Da Gama's face was blank. "Remember that I did you a favor."

Geraldo considered a response, but finally merely shook his head. He
hurried away, asking for Whisper.

Shahji came up behind Da Gama. "Neither good nor bad," he said. "If
it had been me, I'd have spoken in favor of the hijra. Seven lakh hun! You
may have thrown that away. And you might have said you were a partnerwho could dispute it?"

"I was not meant to be a rich man, General." They walked across the
painted wooden floor of the Flying Palace.

But Shahji appeared not to have heard. "She's going to decide the regency. That's why she came here-to get away from all the pressure. As
though this place were any less a nest of snakes than Bijapur." Shahji
looked carefully at Da Gama. "She asks my opinion. I hope I speak as well
as you have done."

"What have you decided, General?"

"Much as I hate to do so, I must side with the hijra. Wall Khan's the
better man, but he'd instantly replace me as commander. He owes too
much to Afzul Khan. But I hate the hijra . . ." Shahji shook his head. "They
will squeeze and squeeze and squeeze me. And how will I resist them?"
Shahji forced a laugh. "You don't need to hear my problems, though. At
least not sober. Let's find some wine."