Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi (11 page)

They covered fifty or more miles by evening, locating a big encampment of travelers in the twilight. When the two rode up and dismounted, the folk there shied away, watching them with something between suspicion and hatred. Such an attitude was not uncommon, for those horsed were undoubtedly of high caste, possibly of the nobility. Still, because Inhetep and Rachelle had no escort, the two score plus people gathered together were not quite sure. After all, armed riders could prove a big deterrent to thieves and bandits! Even with so large a number in their encampment, it was a fact of life that a pair of able, armed warriors were worth ten times their number of ordinary folk. Nobody approached them, however, but kept a distance and watched surreptitiously.

This was obviously an organized band. "Who is the chief man of this company?" the magister called out after he and Rachelle were dismounted and had unsaddled their horses.

After a slight hesitation, a somewhat heavy-set fellow of average height approached. "I have been voted as the leader of this company, master. We are mostly pilgrims going north to the shrines of the Punjab, although some are traveling on business. I am called Aghasur."

"You may address me as Sahib Chandgar. My wife, the Sahibah Manasay, is vowed to silence until she has completed her own pilgrimage and paid devotion to a goddess. That is of no matter to you. However, we have decided to camp here for the night. Be grateful of our protection."

"But of course, great sahib. Whatever you wish. We are all glad to have such exalted persons in our company."

"In your company?" Inhetep said that in accusatory tone, for something in the fellow's eyes irked him. "That remains to be seen, Agh-asur," he went on before the man could respond. "For now see that someone brings us food for our supper—the sahibah will give the one who serves us our bowls to fill. See to that matter quickly. You may return to your place now."

Aghasur gave a little bow, retreated as ordered. Soon he was walking about the other little knots of people, speaking to one or another, then moving on. In a few minutes, a girl of about ten came to fetch their bowls. She and her mother returned almost immediately, each carrying a full dish of rice and egg curry.

"That looks very nice," the magister said with a smile meant to make the two less nervous. "We thank you." The woman and girl looked down, frightened despite his warmth. They then hurried away in some confusion. Inhetep handed Rachelle her portion and began to eat. The stuff was delicious. He must have looked happy.

"No comments, Setne," the amazon hissed. "I am your guard and confidante, not your cook."

With equal care not be overheard, the wizard-priest responded, "And you excel in your capacities." He chuckled without mirth. "When we are done, you and I will go over and personally thank that family. Perhaps we can learn a little about what things are like."

It turned out that after initial hesitation, the magister and his companion were accepted, albeit with reservation, by the group around the fire. The woman who had cooked the food, her daughter and son, and the husband and father made up the majority. Two cousins of his had come along. There was also one who seemed to be a stranger. Although nobody said that, he wasn't introduced. He didn't volunteer either, but instead nodded shyly, then slipped off with the excuse he had to answer a call of nature.

"Who is he?" Inhetep asked then.

The husband spoke. "Oh, he is a nice enough fellow. Strong and willing to help. He gathers the firewood for us, cleans the pots and dishes in return for a little food. He is a peddler. We met him while leaving Alwar yesterday."

"You are all from that city, then?"

"No, sahib. He isn't, nor are half or more of the others. We met on the road—some yesterday, some today—just as we met you and the sahibah."

The magister wasn't surprised to hear that. "So, you all are going to the capital?"

"Many, sahib, but not all, I think."

"Aghasur seems a good leader for such a caravan. You and the others must have known him well and long to appoint him chief."

At that the fellow demured. "I hardly know him at all, great one. He is of good caste, though, and took charge when he met us yesterday. Soon thereafter, some of the other newcomers began to argue with our people. A fight almost broke out. Then Aghasur set matters straight, his associates forcing the rowdy newcomers to stop making a disturbance, to settle things peacefully and amicably. His band numbers a dozen, you see, and all seem strong and able to fight off robbers. He is a natural leader, and the ones in his company obey him. We let him become head man after ending the dispute so easily. Who could object after that?"

"Who indeed?" Inhetep murmured agreement. Before he could say more, and as if summoned by mention of his name, Aghasur appeared.

"Is all in order, warrior sahib? Was something wrong with the food served to you? If so I will—"

With a forceful gesture, the magister silenced his words in midsentence. "No need for anything from you, Aghasur. I am here to thank these good folk for their hospitality. The meal was excellent." Inhetep's tone bore a sharp reproof for the chief of the travelers and praise for the humble folk with whom he now spoke.

That made the headman babble apologies to all, issue a string of inquiries as to what service he might do to make amends, and so forth. Finally, as Inhetep stood in silence throughout the performance, Aghasur stopped his chattering. Peering up from a servile position, he watched the taller man with eyes bright in the firelight's glimmer. Was there cunning in that look, or merely hopeful expectancy?

"You abase yourself unnecessarily. I am not angry at you. These folk here have told me you are able, a natural one to lead the company. But enough of this. I am tired, so the sahibah and I will go to our own place for the night. I am a very light sleeper, though, so at the least disturbance we will be ready with our weapons. Tonight there will no thieves creeping undetected into the encampment to pillage and harm."

As they walked away, Rachelle whispered, "Does he fear we will assume command of the company? What is wrong with that? Who could object? I don't think I like that man. He's altogether too—" She bit off her words, for a small sound came from behind them.

Inhetep heard it too, and he spun. Aghasur was a few paces behind them. "What do you want?" the magister barked. There was a very hard edge in his voice.

"To thank you again, great ones. I ... I didn't mean to intrude. I leave now. Good night." He stood, looking at them, not actually moving.

Without a word, the wizard-priest turned away, ignoring the man. Back at their little bonfire, he said to Rachelle, "That one bears watching. He couldn't have been close enough to hear you were speaking a foreign tongue, but he might have caught the sound of your voice. I'll wager he now knows I lied when 1 said you had taken a vow of silence. Perhaps master Aghasur is simply jealous of his position, wants to retain authority—but perhaps it is something else. Let us keep one eye open at all times."

As if in response to the magister's words about being safe from robbers, Inhetep and Rachelle were attacked an hour after midnight. The amazon was indeed sleeping as if with one eye watching, and Setne had laid an alarm perimeter to alert him if anyone came near. Four men thought to crawl close enough to kill the two sleepers. Instead, their intended victims were up and smiting the would-be bandits before the quartet knew what was happening. With sword and dagger, Rachelle slew one while he wiggled on his belly. The other she cut down when he sprang up and tried to grapple with her. A party with main gauche, thrust, thrust, and double again with both blades.

The magister likewise speared a crawling assailant, then used his long weapon to fend off the other. Seeing himself alone, the robber bolted off, but he took no more than a dozen running strides before the spear-tipped magickal staff took him in the back. He shrieked and fell, dead before he sprawled onto the ground.

As quick as it had been, there was sufficient noise to rouse the rest of the camp. Torches were thrust into the fire's embers, whirled aloft to bring the clearing into ruddy illumination. Everyone was confused, shouting, fearful. Aghasur and his cronies were running about with clubs and daggers, ready to fall upon any other thieves. Then bedlam arose as one after another of the four corpses glowed a reddish color and vanished in a clap of miniature thunder, leaving only black, oily vapors to mark where they had been.

"Those were the ones who tried to make trouble—the ones Aghasur put in their place!" someone cried. "That is what happens to those who serve the Lord of Tigers when they are slain!"

"No!" somebody contradicted. "That is what the secret enfor—" A companion shook the speaker, silencing him. Those two looked at each other a moment, each with fear plainly etched on his countenance. The moment broke, and it affected the whole company. As if a pall had fallen over them, all went off quietly, no longer interested in what had occurred. Yet it seemed to Rachelle and Inhetep that many of the folk glanced their way, gave small nods, or flashed brief, thankful smiles before closing into insular knots.

"You brought this upon yourselves!" Aghasur accused as he and his followers came to confront the two. "Perhaps it would be better for all if you left this company."

The magister stared at the fellow. Aghasur managed to meet his gaze for some time before his eyes shifted aside. "Never speak to your betters in such manner, you insolent cur!" Inhetep said in a flat voice which carried across the clearing. "We will decide when to stay and when to leave. We have just decided to stay, so take your pack and get back to your fire. When morning comes, I'll settle with you."

Aghasur and his men slunk away. "I knew he was trouble," Rachelle whispered. "Hell be back later." But Instead, he and his cronies were gone when the sun rose. To her great satisfaction, the remaining folk seemed relieved, begged Setne to take charge, and the magister agreed.

All was relatively ordinary for the next two days. Each morning they traveled northward. They passed farmers, herdsmen, merchants, travelers, and pilgrim bands going the other way. Handfuls of fellow pilgrims and like travelers joined their company. At the end of the first day of Inhetep's being chief, their number surpassed what it had been before the death of the killers and the desertion of Aghasur's dozen. The original group was confident, happy. By the second day, there were nearly two hundred to be shepherded. Now and again one or another of the band would tell Inhetep, sotto voce, "We are with you," or "Your secret is safe," or even, "Death to the Black One!" He made no sign he heard. He said nothing of the strange comments to Rachelle.

She had her own words to speak. "You are a natural leader, Setne," Rachelle told him that night. She was only half jesting when she next said, "When we get back home, you should consider becoming a hatia and govern a district— better still, forget a mere sepat and think of being lord of one of Pharaoh's three lands!"

The wizard-priest looked at her, gave his head a slight turn of negation. "This role is one I dislike. I do it because there is something hidden, something malign which I think will crawl from its slimy darkness soon so I can see it."

"Aren't we going to reach Delhi city tomorrow?"

"Thus we must watch with special care tonight, my dear."

She gave him a grim smile. "You mean yet another night of watchfulness, Setne? I haven't let my guard down since boarding the
Blue Cloud."

"Be even more alert," he told her. There was compassion in his voice, but she couldn't doubt that the magister was most serious. "Tonight is the only time for that lurking menace to slither forth to gather us in. If I am not mistaken. it will strike this night."

In that he was not mistaken. When it occurred, though, the attack didn't come in a creeping manner. It was heralded by a wailing cry which froze the blood of any victim not asleep. There was a silent rush of menacing figures. It was impossible in the confusion of moonlight and shadow to tell how many thugs were there. More than half a hundred, perhaps twice that number, and one at least was capable of using potent heka. Whatever casting he sent at them, both Inhetep and Rachelle were suddenly themselves again. That is, their Hindi disguises were gone, and for the few heartbeats' time the change required, neither could do aught but stand dazed, feeling the effects of the transformation.

"Thugs!" he managed to shout to Rachelle. "Stranglers of Kali!"

There was no free passage for the attackers, however. In a mere matter of heartbeats after the time the practitioner among the crazed stranglers activated his casting, Magister Inhetep had triggered one of his own dweoiners. There appeared a sudden smoking arc as a hundred separate sparks winked into being.

For a second these motes glowed, in the next they brightened into a multi-hued array of blossoming fires, and but a second after that each began its dance.

A flight of them whizzed high in angry amber lines, making sounds as hornets do. Others fluttered like butterflies with wings of flame. There were a dozen bright blue serpentine paths traced along the ground, and violet arcs as if grasshoppers were alight and on the move. Bright green embers jumped toward the on-rushing attackers as might insane frogs bent on meeting the assailants in midair. Some spi-raled aloft to spin and spit scintillating jets, which whirled crazily as their erratic flight carried them outward from the wizard-priest who had invoked them, while silvery and golden balls bounced and rolled forth in a determined fashion. Then, finally, all hell broke loose.