The Temple Dancer (51 page)

Hours later, in the late afternoon, the landscape changed. Instead of the
long, endless rise they'd plodded up all day, here the road twisted over a series of craggy passes. The baked yellow grasslands grew suddenly green.
Trees appeared again-how welcome was their shade! Gray-black rocks
thrust from the soil, furred with tufts of grass.

The air grew cool and a breeze blew. They could smell the moisture in
it like a perfume.

Da Gama halted everyone for a rest before the final leg. "There's a river
near here," he told them. "We're close to Gokak Falls. Our camp's on the
other side of those hills ... not far, but the roads here are hard. Hearing
this, the palki bearers groaned.

As the bottom of the orange sun touched the horizon, they mounted a
final craggy rise. "There," Da Gama said. At the foot of the hill, they saw
the camp amid the shadows of the trees: three large tents, and around a fire,
a half-dozen smaller ones.

"Old friends reunited!" Slipper came toward them, beaming. He wore elegant jamas, and rings on every finger, but, as usual, the end of his turban
had come loose, though this one was silk, heavy with gold thread.

"Where's Victorio?" Da Gama asked.

But Slipper walked right past him, though he chattered all the while.
"Oh, he's in his tent with Senhor Geraldo. They have much to talk about,
it seems. Where are my sisters?" He bounded to the palki. "Here they are,
as beautiful as ever!"

He brushed the palkiwallah aside, and held out his hand, bowing as he
helped Lucinda out, and then Maya. "Dear me, you two look so serious!"
he said. "You must have wine. We are all drinking wine! And tonight, a
feast!" He held out his hand for Maya's bag, but she snatched it away. Slipper shrugged, but his small eyes gleamed.

Talking nonstop, he led them to the clearing, quiet and cool in the setting sun. When Slipper took a breath, they could hear from afar the
sound of the river.

"See how grand our accommodations are!" Slipper spread his arms expansively, as if he himself had made the arrangements. The three large tents
were laid out in the clearing like points on a wheel; in their midst carpets
and cushions had been set near a campfire. A rough-looking cook nodded
to them, and then returned to turning his spit; a goat sizzled, wet with
juices.

Da Gama tethered his horse and started to take off its saddle. "Why are
there no guards?"

"Oh, Deoga, you must learn to enjoy yourself. They're sleeping, most of
them. One or two went to the falls. This is a picnic, not a battlefield!" Da
Gama scowled at him, and Slipper shook his head. "Oh, don't be a grump
and spoil everybody's fun! I shall show the women to their tent. You'll want
to change before the feast!" Still chattering, though the women followed
silently, he held the entrance flap of the large tent, and bowed them in.

Da Gama led his horse to where the animals were being kept. Someone
had fetched a big tub of water, Da Gama noted with grudging relief, and
the horses seemed well tended. But he wanted sentries. He had many reasons to feel uneasy, he told himself. Since the final hilltop, Da Gama had
felt the tingling on his neck that told him he was being watched. There were
eyes around them, unfriendly eyes. Da Gama remembered how Wall Khan
had told him that the Three-Dot clan would follow the little caravan.
Maybe he could feel their stares. Maybe it was all in his head.

Da Gama strode to the guards area and poked his head into the low
tents. Finally he found a snoring guard, roused him. When he'd got the fellow standing, he told him to keep watch.

The guard sneered.

Da Gama acted before he thought. In an instant he had seized and
twisted the man's wrist, pressing his full weight against it until the guard
fell to the floor with a whimper, his cheek pressed against the earth. With
his other hand Da Gama held a double-barreled pistola to the man's temple,
and cocked both hammers. This all took a single heartbeat.

Holy mother, Da Gama murmured to himself. What am I doing. "Get
up!" Da Gama said, releasing him. The guard rose slowly, his eyes widening as he realized how close he'd come to dying. "Next time obey me."

"Yes. Yes, sir," the poor fellow gulped. "Yes," he said again, even as he
ran from the tent, buckling his sword.

What's wrong with me, Da Gama thought. He sat on the guard's
bedroll, uncocked his pistola, and shoved it back in his belt. A man like me
can't afford to lose his head, he thought. What is wrong with me?

There were so many things wrong:

Victorio and his double-dealing.

Victorio's lies.

Victorio's plan to marry Lucy.

Vittorio and Geraldo.

Vittorio.

Outside the tent Da Gama found a pot of water, and scooped some
onto his head. As he dried his face with his dark kerchief, he saw the guard
talking animatedly with Slipper. The eunuch nodded, listening intently, his
eyes growing wide. At last he patted the guard's arm, as one might pat a
child who has told a nightmare. Then, with a broad smile on a his fat face,
Slipper came slowly, gently to Da Gama. "Senhor Deoga, your concern for
our safety does you credit! How enthusiastic you are! Everyone says so."

"I expect obedience, Senhor Eunuch." He pointed with his chin to the
sentry. "Nothing wrong with the occasional reminder. It builds discipline."

"Yes, yes. Exactly what I told the fellow. You must obey the farang, I
told him, just like that. Deoga is paid to worry about our safety-the very
words I said!"

Da Gama had never seen Slipper's oily grin so wide, nor so frightened. I
must take care, he told himself. I really must not lose control. He tried to
change the subject. "Tonight we have a feast, eh, Senhor Eunuch?"

Slipper gratefully followed Da Gama's lead. He fell in step beside Da
Gama and gestured broadly to the cooking fire, and then to the trees beyond the guards' tent where a few camp followers were peeling a pile of red
onions. "It is a grand day for your master," Slipper said. "A betrothal, and
a homecoming. So much beginning! So much effort coming to an end! Too
bad the burak would not come, too. We could recall our rescue from the
bandits. Ah well, never mind. There's still reason enough for us to celebrate
and feast, don't you think?"

Da Gama nodded, but his mind had seized the word master and was
now considering it with horror.

"Oh, Deoga, did you hear? We received a visitor! Yes, the captain of
the eunuch guards of Bijapur came here this afternoon, not long before you
all arrived!"

"The captain of the eunuch guards? Why isn't he with the Sultana?"

"Ah, you see, now I have news!" Slipper's delight was obvious. He
grabbed the end of his rich turban, which had again come loose, and shoved
it happily back in place. "The Flying Palace has come. The Sultana wanted a
change of scene. She and the heir came down to Gokak Falls. They're only a
few miles from here. Also others, some friends of yours, I think: Wall Khan
is there, and my master, Whisper."

At this news Da Gama's breath came short, and his heart beat fast.
"Why have they come?" he glowered. "What mischief is this?"

Slipper stepped back. "Deoga, you must calm yourself. You'll die
young if you keep this up!"

Da Gama looked away. "You're right. Please forgive my bad manners."
Then a thought struck him. "Didn't you and Geraldo have a falling out...."

A beatific light fell on Slipper's face. "The brothers don't bear grudges
long. We have so few friends, we can't afford to lose any. Anyway, his interests and mine are the same. And did you hear? Victorio has made him a
partner!"

"I had not heard," Da Gama answered.

"I know you feel concerned, particularly since the matter of the nautch
girl is not yet settled. But this will pass ... maybe sooner than you think!
Whisper sent me word that he has brought along the nautch girl's price, in
hopes of meeting us on the road." Slipper looked at Da Gama coyly. "She
still has all her ... her baggage?" he asked hopefully.

Hating himself, Da Gama nodded.

Just as they reached Victorio's tent, Geraldo came out, looking very satisfied. "Congratulations on being made a partner, senhor," Slipper said delightedly. Geraldo lowered his head, but clearly was quite pleased.

"My own congratulations," Da Gama said, his face cold. "You appear
to have been busy these last few hours.

Geraldo shrugged. "I am humbled by my good fortune."

They glared at one another silently until Slipper burst in: "I was just
.."
explaining to Deoga that you and I have made up our differences.

"Yes, that's in the past. Senhor Slipper has graciously forgotten all
about it." Geraldo swung his arm around Slipper's plump shoulder. "Master Victorio has decided to take dinner in his tent tonight," he said to the
eunuch, ignoring Da Gama. "He wants to see Lucinda now, and then the
nautch girl."

"I will fetch her," Slipper said and moved off, smiling warmly at Geraldo.

"What about me?" Da Gama asked.

"Oh, yes! I suppose you should go in now, before Lucinda comes."
His offhand tone achieved its purpose: Da Gama bristled and with no further word strode into Victorio's tent.

The air smelled stale. Pierced shade lamps hung from the tent poles
cast a soft light on the velvet walls. In the center of the spacious tent Victorio reclined barefoot on a camp divan. Da Gama noticed his yellowed,
clawlike toenails. His gray hair fell loose around his shoulders; his linen
shirt hung open, so low that it revealed his pale belly. But Victorio held a
wine flagon in his thick fingers and appeared not to care. "Da Gama!" Victorio said in surprise. "What brings you here?"

"I'm the settlement man, remember? And your partner?"

"Of course, of course." Da Gama sat on the thick carpet at Victorio's
feet. "Things have turned out well. Better than I hoped, in fact." He took a
pull of wine. "What do you think of that Geraldo, eh?" Victorio didn't wait
for an answer. "A true Dasana! The family blood runs in his veins, that's
clear. A man with a future! So many excellent opinions! So many fine
ideas!" Da Gama struggled to hold his tongue. "It's good you're here, Da
Gama," Victorio said. His face was flushed, and his eyes red. "I've come to
some decisions. I trust I can count on you." Victorio's thick tongue slid
across his pale lips. "About the nautch girl ... it's settled. She'll go to the
eunuchs, as we agreed with Whisper."

Da Gama nodded. "What about the vizier?" he managed to say.

"Yes. Well, I leave that part to you. You're the settlement man, eh? You
deal with it. You'll figure out something. Aren't you the master?"

Da Gama lowered his head. "I shall do my best."

"Of course, of course. I place the matter in your capable hands. After
all, that is what your fee is for, eh? Even your usual fee, eh?"

In the flickering lamplight, Victorio's face looked thick and heavy. Instead of looking at Da Gama when he spoke, he leaned to fill his cup with
wine from a brass pitcher. Da Gama stared at him in silence. It was nearly
empty, and Victorio shook the last drops into his cup and took a long draft.
"I'd offer you some wine," he said to break the silence, "but you see ... it's
gone.

"Yes." Da Gama rose and turned to leave.

"About that other matter-that special fee I promised?"

Da Gama turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting. The old man smiled
wanly and then turned his head. "I may have spoken too soon. I must discuss it with my partner."

"Geraldo?"

"Of course ... since he stands to inherit the Dasana fortune, you
know, he must have some authority. . ."

"Aren't you forgetting Lucinda? Isn't the fortune hers?" Victorio
flicked his hand in answer, as if batting away a fly. Da Gama's mouth tightened. "And I thought I was to be your partner."

Victorio spread his arms-as if he were helpless, as if he would embrace
Da Gama, as if he could not care. "Yes, yes, dear boy, of course. I will discuss that with him, too." He turned away. "Just send Lucinda in, won't
you? And we'll sort things out tomorrow. There's a good fellow."