The Temple Dancer (61 page)

Her head turned, and now her eyes surveyed the room. She caught Da
Gama's gaze in a kind of web, and with his eyes, his full attention. It was as
though she danced for him alone. He knew it was part of her art, that every
person there at this moment felt the same, but it made his feelings no less
palpable for knowing.

Each pose came on now faster than the last. Sometimes now her feet
moved four times while her arms moved three. She turned her head so quickly that her braid swung behind her like a whip; her hands cut the air
like knives. Her steps became strides; her strides hops, then jumps. Soon
she was leaping in the air, landing as lightly as a paper ball. The soles of her
feet slapped the wood floor like a drummer's fingers.

The music swelled in intricate profusion as she turned. Da Gama himself began to sweat, just watching her exertions. It was not desire that he
felt, at least not as he was used to. Maya did not flirt nor leer. But the power
of each pose, each leap brought to his thoughts an awareness of the supple
strength of her limbs. His heart beat faster as he watched, joining the music
like another drum.

Da Gama could feel the swirling of the flute pulsing through his veins.
As Maya danced, a strength, not only of her body but of her will, exuded
from her. It stirred him to be her equal with his own strength and will. She
seemed to him both childlike and godlike-divinity approachable by man.

What I might do, he thought as she soared in a leap. What I too
might be!

It took a while to realize that the dance had ended. The hall still echoed
with the tamboura's drone even when the music stopped, and once again
Maya stood alone and unmoving in the center of the hall. Her limbs shone
with sweat, and her sari clung to her body. Her chest heaved as she caught
her breath. But that same unnerving stillness hovered in the air around her.
The bountiful nothingness from which her dance had emerged could be
perceived once more. At last the moment faded like a mist before the sun.
From outside the shouts of the tentwallahs could again be heard, and the
bellow of the elephants, and over all, the roaring of the falls.

The boy sultan stepped out from behind the silver rail, and with him
two of the eunuch boy attendants, one of them carrying a square of folded
black cloth. The heir came to Maya, and raised his hands in a formal bow.
Then the eunuch boys approached her, and opened the cloth with a snap,
and lifted it over her. It floated through the air and fell in a billow over her
head.

She was now veiled.

They led Maya up the dais. The cloth was dark, but sheer, and as she moved, it pressed against her and puffed out as if it breathed. Sometimes
the curve of a hip might be guessed through the cover, or the outline of her
chin or cheek. Before the hidden queen, Maya inclined her cloaked head,
and the veiled queen bowed back. Then Maya passed through the door like
a shadow.

The hall, which had been utterly silent, came once more to life.
Courtiers again began to move, to talk. Nervous laughter filled the air; Da
Gama got the sense of men making ribald jokes. If he had his pistolas he'd
have shot a few. He saw Geraldo whispering with a leering grin to Slipper,
who giggled at his words. Shahji, at least, had the courtesy to stand apart,
watching Maya's departure as one might watch a passing funeral.

After a moment, as the talk crescendoed, Wall Khan once more rapped
his staff on the dais. "The Sultana speaks," he announced.

After the quiet had returned, the Sultana's muffled voice began. "She
has a rare gift. You have seen today what few will see hereafter. But what
shall be done with her? That is the question we must decide."

As she spoke, the young sultan settled once again at her feet, lounging
comfortably and looking pleased with himself and rather bored. Whisper
made a show of giving him extra room. At last the queen continued. "Many
men have laid a claim to her, and her circumstances are enmeshed with a
family of farangs, and many of them are dead, and one, maybe, a murderer.
So our deciding has been difficult. Hear then our will."

"First, the nautch girl Maya was given as a gift to our grand vizier. Wall
Khan, therefore shall have her."

At these words, from across the room, Slipper squealed in pain. Wall
Khan did his best to look serene despite the sudden envy of the courtiers.
"Hear, though, grand vizier ... You made a promise to the Moguls: that
you would deliver her to Viceroy Murad. That promise has been a factor in
our thinking. Do not disappoint us." The grand vizier lowered his head in
obedience.

"Also, there is a later item that may affect you, Wall Khan," the Sultana
said as if in afterthought. At this he looked up with a frown. Trouble came
in the queen's second thoughts.

"Next, the matter of the Dasanas. We find that before he died, Victorio
Souza, trustee of the estate, made Geraldo Silveira a partner. We confirm
that now. One half of the estate belongs to him." The murmuring of the
court grew loud. Geraldo beamed, and Slipper grabbed his arm happily. Da Gama gave no sign that he had even heard. "Master Khaswajara, there is
some small tax on transferred holdings, is there not?"

"Highness, your memory once again is perfect. I shall see to its collection."

"A tax indeed. Seven parts of ten, if I recall," Shahji whispered into Da
Gama's ear.

"The remainder of the Dasana estate belongs to Lucinda Dasana, accused of poisoning her uncle. Until she is produced, and condemned, and
executed for her crime, those assets shall be held in trust. Senhor Geraldo
Silveira shall manage them as the crown's agent. Upon the poisoner's death,
they shall revert to the state."

Slipper had been growing more and more impatient, and suddenly
burst out, "But, highness! What about the claim of the Khaswajara?" After
he spoke, he clapped his hands across his mouth.

The hall laughed, Wall Khan tamped with his staff, and the queen continued. "There is that matter yet to decide. We find that the Khaswajara has a
certain claim on the nautch girl. He made an offer, the offer was acceptedeven though no goods changed hands and no settlement was made. How
shall we provide for his claim?" Whisper now bowed to her. "Do you have
the money, Whisper?" the queen said in a voice that only Da Gama and a few
others were close enough to hear.

"Of course, highness."

"Hear then our judgement. For the seven lakhs you promised, you
may have the girl." Slipper slapped his hands across his mouth to keep
from cheering. "Since she is now owned by Wall Khan, you must pay him."

Whisper could barely hide his delight. "Yes, highness! Thank you,
highness!"

Wall Khan stared back, speechless. He was gearing up to speak when
some of the queen's cloth moved as she raised her hand. "Whisper, we
mean the girl only, mind you. None of her things, nothing that she owns,
or wears. The girl, and only the girl, as is, naked as when she was born."
Whisper's smile took a moment to fade, but across the room, Slipper
gasped out loud.

"Or, if you wish, for those same seven lakhs, you may choose a single
item that she owns. Any item."

Whisper's expression became difficult to read. The courtiers frowned
at one another, squinted at the queen, some stuck a finger through their turbans and scratched their heads. Only Da Gama and a few others had
any understanding of what the queen intended. He began to smile.

"May we inspect her things?"

The Sultana looked toward Wall Khan. "No!" he shouted, banging his
staff.

Beneath her cloths, the queen's shoulder moved, making a tiny shrug.
"You see how he says. And he is her owner now."

"But without seeing those items ..."

"Never mind!" shouted Slipper from across the room. "It's fine! We accept!" He wagged a finger at Whisper, and this gesture, even more than his
outburst, set the courtiers murmuring.

"It seems your brother agrees on your behalf, sir," the queen said. Da
Gama thought he could hear the smile in her voice. "But how shall this settlement be made?" The eye slit moved to face Da Gama. "Deoga, will you
not act as our burak?"

"Highness, at your pleasure." Da Gama nodded. "I will need a scribe."

"Use the mukhunni Slipper. Anything else that you require?"

"A second-at-arms would be useful, highness."

The Sultana took a moment to answer. "Arms? Do you really think
arms will be needed? Among such men of honor? To settle a bargain made
under our seal?"

Da Gama considered his answer, and several times stopped just as he
was about to speak. At last he bowed his head. "Yes, highness."

"Then take Commander Shahji for your second, Deoga. Make the settlement within the hour. Then we depart for Bijapur."

Despite being nearly beside himself with anticipation, Slipper had been
gracious and helpful. Hurrying over after the Sultana left the audience, he
pulled Da Gama to a side hall and into an alcove where there was a low
table, paper, and a pen box. "We can do the settlement right here!" he said
brightly.

"No," Da Gama answered. He'd had enough of the palace for the day.
"Outside. By the harem bridge."

"Who would have guessed you had this streak of romance, Deoga! What an exciting setting! The day shall be memorable indeed!" With that
Slipper found a servant, and dictated a list of items to be brought to the
river's edge immediately: carpets, cushions, tables, writing implements, refreshments.

"It's just a settlement, Senhor Eunuch," Da Gama said, trying not to
seem too surprised by Slipper's efficiency.

"It is more than that, senhor. For years I myself was unjustly maligned
for the loss of ... of a certain item. For years I searched, not just to regain
that item, but also my reputation. Today that shall be accomplished. I shall
be vindicated!"

"Being a good Muslim, you should say `Ishvar-Allah'-if it is God's
will."

"Yes. But God is often lazy. It is persistence that eventually triumphs,
Deoga."

Or evil, thought Da Gama. Or sometimes luck. But Slipper was too excited for a conversation, so instead of discussing philosopy, Da Gama set
about dictating the settlement documents to Slipper, based on the decisions
of the queen.

After half an hour, Slipper and Da Gama left the Flying Palace. They
passed the maids of the harem and the eunuchs of the first rank making their
way to the stairs. They would travel in the Flying Palace with the queen.

"Don't bother looking for her, Deoga," Slipper said with a knowing
look.

"Who?"

"The nautch girl. She won't be traveling with the palace, but rather
with Wall Khan's suite. I'm sure he'll want her in his howdah." Slipper
winked and wagged an eyebrow, and Da Gama resisted slapping him.
"Now she'll be just another nautch girl, Deoga."

"You must find her special, or you wouldn't be paying seven lakh hun."

Slipper snorted. "She just happens to have something we want. A monkey could have had it just as easily, and been worth just as much."

The palace field was now stripped bare of tents; now only palkis and
howdah elephants marked the places where the grand circle had been. Men
fastened tarpaulins over the heaping contents of the bullock carts. In the
distance the eunuch guard was forming up. By the harem bridge, a carpet
had been laid for the settlement.

They arrived to find Wall Khan and Shahji seated, sharing a pitcher of wine. Da Gama refused a cup, but Slipper accepted and swallowed it in a
gulp. "Careful, senhor," Da Gama teased.

"This is too great a day for moderation," Slipper answered as he took
another cup.

Da Gama, as was often the case before a settlement, found it impossible
to sit. He paced around the perimeter of the carpet, trying to calm himself
by looking at the scenery. The carpet sat close to the fall's edge, where the
river surged over the lip of the cliff to the black pool below. The bright sun
shone warm, so the mists were thin. Da Gana looked long at the ancient
temple, and the shadowed forests, and hoped that Lucy was safe and happy
with Pathan. But he must think of that another time, he decided.