Veils of Silk (65 page)

Her mouth hardened.
Remember that you are a Russian
.

No surrender.

Ian's leap into the unknown lasted so long that he was sure that he had misjudged and was falling into the shaft. Then he landed hard on a slippery, irregular stone surface.

He lost his balance and went down, sliding on his side across the rock until he slammed into a wall.

Shaken, he did an inventory. Nothing was broken, though he was getting bruises on his bruises. He swayed as he got to his feet and realized that the combined effects of exhaustion, cold, and hunger were starting to seriously affect him. But he daren't stop as long as he was capable of moving forward. If he lay down, he might not get up again.

How long had he been trapped under here? Hours? A day? More? Impossible to tell. As in the Black Well, he was losing all sense of time, though his other senses were acute. He could smell the water and the sterility of the stone, feel the strengthening current of air on his face. He was also getting adept at sensing how near or far away surfaces were. He wasn't sure how he knew; probably the reflections of sound and his own body heat.

He found the next shaft the easy way, by tapping rather than almost falling in. Again he tossed gravel to determine what was ahead, finding that it seemed to be solid rock rather than a continuation of the tunnel. On the plus side, the shaft didn't seem as deep as the first, and the tunnel might continue at the lower level. He debated how to proceed. It wouldn't be easy to go down the shaft, and if he broke a leg he was doomed.

Then he remembered his turban, which was six yards long and made of sturdy cotton. He made a rope by ripping the turban lengthwise into two pieces and tying the ends together. After looping it around a narrow column of stone that rose from the floor, he climbed into the shaft. At the bottom limit of his rope, he lowered himself until he was hanging with his arms straight over his head. At the very limit, his toes touched solid ground, probably the floor of a new tunnel. Releasing one end of the doubled cloth, he pulled the entire length down and wrapped it around his body in case he would need it again.

And so it continued, through large spaces and small, moving through the thick blackness by touch and faint echoes of sound. Once he worked his way down a chimney with his back pressed against one wall and his feet and hands against the other, praying that it wouldn't get too wide for him to support himself. Sometimes he wondered if he was burying himself more deeply, but the air still moved, so there must be an opening somewhere ahead.

The water grew deeper until he was wading through a stream, then a small river. Finally, with a roar, the river plunged into a shaft. Alerted by the intensifying current and the sound of falling water, Ian stopped and made a careful survey. The river, which was now almost hip deep, filled the tunnel. The only way forward would be through the water.

He stood still, water rushing around him, and weighed the odds. If he let the river take him down this subterranean waterfall, he might emerge into a pool in a chamber below. More likely, he would drown or be smashed into the rocks. Not good odds at all, but once again, he didn't see any other choices. There wasn't much point in retracing his steps. He might have passed by dry secondary tunnels, but if he had missed them once, he might miss them again.

Well, he had said that any death would be better than being buried alive, and he was certainly being given a variety of choices. The worst part of going over the waterfall was that his revolver would become saturated so he wouldn't have it in reserve for a final escape; however, since he was probably going to drown, there was no point in worrying about that.

He inhaled deeply several times to absorb every bit of air he could. As he did, he thought of all he would be leaving behind if he didn't survive. Earlier, when panic had driven him to the brink of self-destruction, he had been thinking only of the pain of existence. Yet life had become very rewarding since he met Laura, and dying now would be like leaving a book in the middle of the best part.

Now that existence was stripped down to stark essentials, it was hard to remember why he had been unable to tell Laura that he loved her. It was foolish of him to let his sense of unworthiness silence him, for she deserved to know how much she meant to him. If he survived, he would do better.

During his long journey through the cavern, his irrational fears had ebbed, leaving a curious sense of peace. The darkness was no longer menacing. In fact, it held a warmth that reminded him of the Well when he had shared it with Pyotr Andreyovich. Perhaps the old rascal had come to keep him company. Or perhaps what he felt was that deity whom Pyotr had believed in. Whatever—or Whoever—might be here, Ian no longer felt alone.

The faces of his family passed in front of his mind's eye, beginning and
ending with Laura. She was so vivid that it seemed as if he could reach out and
touch her. Larissa Alexandrovna, his fierce, loyal, loving Tartar. Be happy, Larishka, and sometimes remember me.

Then he lay back and let the current take him into the abyss.

The next chamber was the most beautiful of all, but to Laura's bitter disappointment, it was also the end of the cave. Half the floor of the chamber was taken up by a deep pool with a waterfall plunging into it. She prowled around the perimeter, the stub of her candle so low that it almost singed her fingers, but could find no way out except the one by which they had entered. She felt as if she were trapped inside a Russian cathedral of spires and glittering surfaces.

David was also investigating, scrambling over the uneven floor, but finally the two of them met by the pool. "We'll have to turn back, Laura," he said. "This is the end. Maybe Zafir and Kuram have had better luck. Even if they have, we'd better rest outside before trying another tunnel. We're exhausted, and even willpower has its limits."

She sighed. "I suppose so, though I hate to admit it. I keep feeling that Ian must be here somewhere, if only I knew where to look—if only I tried a little harder."

"No one could try harder than you, Laura—you're the most indomitable female I've ever met." David touched her shoulder. "But now it's time to go back."

She nodded, but when he walked away, she paused for one last look at the waterfall that poured noisily from the wall. No way forward there, for it filled the shaft from which it emerged. She was beginning to turn when she saw an object sweeping down through the veil of water. Something large, a chunk of wood or a drowned animal. It hit with a splash.

Laura stared, sure that she must be hallucinating, seeing Ian in the roiled water because she so much wanted to. Then she began to shout.

Compared to the rest of Ian's subterranean journey, passage through the underground river was almost easy. The water did all the work, sucking him down the stony pipe, the chill numbing his bruises and abraded hands. If only there were air… His lungs began to ache, then burn. He exhaled slowly, using the slight relief to hold back the moment when suffocation would become agony.

Suddenly he slammed into a protruding rock and stuck, trapped by the beating current. Violently he shoved at the stone until he was enough to one side that the water grabbed him again. The river spread out, expanding into a waterfall. His desperate lungs drew in a mixture of air and water that choked more than relieved. Then he plunged into a deep pool. After the waterfall, it was still and calm. And, shockingly, he saw a glimmer of light above.

His first thought, even before the hope that escape was at hand, was that, thank God, he wasn't blind. Weakly he struck out toward the light, kicking upward and wondering if he would last long enough to reach it before he drowned.

When he broke through the surface, the roar of the falls and of blood pounding in his ears eliminated other sounds. It wasn't until a strong arm grabbed him and dragged him through the water that he realized he wasn't alone. He was bumped over the edge of the pool, then landed on a rough stone floor in a chamber feebly illuminated by candlelight.

Reality tilted crazily, for above him he saw Laura's face, which had to be impossible. Nonetheless, he reached up to touch her cheek. The smooth skin was warm beneath his chilled fingers.

She leaned forward and kissed him and his confusion cleared instantly. "Bloody hell," he croaked. "I'm alive?"

"You are indeed."

It was David's voice. Ian shifted his gaze and saw his brother kneeling beside him. After coughing again, he said, "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Trying to find out if I'd inherited Falkirk. I thought for sure I had it this time." David gave a lopsided smile. "You've got more lives than a cat, Ian, but you've really got to stop getting yourself killed. It's too exhausting."

"I couldn't agree more." Shaking his head to clear the water from his ears, Ian pushed himself up. David helped him get to his feet, then enfolded him in a fierce bear hug. Laura was there, too, all three of them wrapped around each other like the aerial roots of a banyan tree.

The combination of physical and emotional warmth restored Ian more than he would have believed possible. It began to sink in that he really was alive, and likely to stay so. With life came curiosity. "Is there a war going on outside?"

"No, you kept the Afghans from getting through. The pass was destroyed when the cliff collapsed," Laura replied. "There's still trouble in Afghanistan, but that's where it will stay."

"So we did it," he said softly. "We put out the fire before it could spread across India."

"Not 'we,' love—you," she said. "You're the one who deduced what the plan was, you're the one who held off an army. Pyotr must be very happy up in that onion-domed heaven of his."

"I'm glad, too." With great reluctance, Ian disentangled himself from his wife and brother. "It's been a hell of a day, and I'm really not in the mood for a war."

While Laura dug into her pack for food and brandy, David wrapped a coarse woolen blanket around Ian's shoulders. "Better use this to keep yourself warm. We still have a fairly lengthy trek out of here."

"The sooner we get out, the better." Ian swallowed a mouthful of brandy, welcoming the burn. As he accepted a rolled chapati from Laura, he added, "If either of you ever hears me express a desire to go into another cave, please hit me on the head with a rock until I change my mind."

Then, with laughter ringing in his ears and Laura's arm around his waist, Ian set off for the land of the living.

When Ian awoke, he ached all over. Nonetheless, he felt wonderful, which undoubtedly had much to do with the fact that a soft, familiar female form was wrapped around him. Opening his eye, he found that they were on a charpoy in a darkened room, with a low-burning oil lamp on a table by the bed.

It was the guest room of a Pathan compound, much like the one at Habibur's. However, this time they were with the Afridis who had taken in Laura and Gulab Khan several days before. Dimly Ian remembered the lengthy, exhausting trip out of the cave. He doubted that he could have made it that far alone.

They had emerged at dawn. Zafir and a helpful Afridi, Kuram, had been outside. They had also reached a point in the cavern where they could go no further. Ian wondered if the waterfall was the only link between the upper and lower caves. He'd been lucky, damned lucky. Or perhaps it wasn't luck; perhaps there was such a thing as iqbal.

Kuram had insisted that they come here, to the home of Gulab Khan's cousin. Ian gathered that he and Laura were entitled to lifetime hospitality because they had helped the havildar through the pass. The fact that Gulab Khan had tried to kill him was tactfully unmentioned; these little mistakes happened.

Once they reached the compound, David had said goodbye, for he must lead his troops to Jallalabad. Zafir, who was still officially on leave, decided to stay with Ian and Laura to escort them back to India. Or at least as far as Habibur's, where Zafir intended to marry Meera as soon as possible.

Ian thought that was a sound plan. He looked down at the bronze hair tumbling over his arm and the curve of Laura's cheek, and thought what an excellent idea marriage was. At least, with a wife like this one. He stroked her hair, scarcely able to believe that they were really together and safe.

Light though his touch was, it woke Laura. Her long lashes fluttered up, showing the amber depths of her amazing eyes. "How are you feeling,
doushenka
?"

"Rather as if I lost a fight with a bull elephant. Apart from that, I feel wonderful. In fact, better than wonderful."

Laura inhaled, her eyes widening. "It's gone—that darkness inside you is gone. What happened to heal it?"

"I should have guessed that you knew it was there." Ian was unsurprised that his wife understood what was going on inside his head better than he did. She was quite right; the vein of sorrow and shame that had run through the depths of his soul was gone. Experimentally he probed around inside his mind. Though he found much that he regretted, there was nothing that he couldn't live with.

"The darkness was fear," he answered, brows knit as he tried to define the mysterious shift that had taken place during his passage through the underworld. "In Bokhara, I was buried alive and died. This time, though I came within a hairsbreadth of destroying myself, I managed to survive all of the things I feared the most, including fear itself. For the first time since I was taken captive in Bokhara, I feel as if I am truly free."

"Even though you're married?"

He laughed. "That's the greatest freedom of all, Larishka, because you've seen me at my worst and are still here." He paused to give her a deep, leisurely kiss. "The pieces I thought were broken beyond repair seem to have cobbled themselves together again. Almost as good as new, if you don't mind a plate with lots of seams and scars."

"That just means you're stronger in the mended places." She inhaled with pleasure as he found a particularly tender spot beneath her ear.

"I must be, because before I wasn't strong enough to say how much I love you." He opened the front of her gown, exposing her breasts, and kissed one sensitive tip. "And I do love you, Larissa Alexandrovna, my fierce, bewitching, tenacious Russian lady. I can't believe the good luck that brought us together in the face of so many unlikely circumstances."