Immediately there came the loud reverberation of a gong and Graves raised his bugle to blow the Royal Salute. Bai Ju and Hinatea strode through the door in concert, moving to either side, a strange conflicting pair, one in her little girl silks with the tiny jacket and white face. The other barbaric and splendid in her polished leathers and bare skin, standing tall and proud. As Suzanne’s restraining hand released her, Sara strode through the door between the pair to find herself in an imposing chamber full of people, with herself the centre of attention.
Head high, looking regal in her immaculate silk uniform, Sara strode forward to stand in front of the throne, her confident demeanour belying her inner turmoil as she wished for her crown, any crown, and some of her jewels. Every person in the palace seemed to be bedecked in jewels and gold. Sara did not realise the powerful contrast she made in her simple yet exquisite uniform, with its martial flavour and Lady Strike nestling on her hip. She came to a halt as the last note of the salute pealed forth, looking at the Saamoothiri with interest, her concerns fading to nothing as the real business began. He was a small man, dwarfed by an enormous turban sprouting massive feathers held in place by a diamond the size of an egg. Lively interested eyes peered at her over a jutting nose and bristling moustache, indicating failing sight. He nodded with fascination as the protocol official proclaimed Sara’s titles in a stentorian voice, filling the chamber. Sara was unsure whether he embellished her credentials or Suzanne was to blame, but he went on for an extraordinary length of time.
On completion, Sara saluted crisply, while on either side of her Captain Larroche and Brian also saluted followed by deep bows, while Suzanne performed a deep curtsy. Sara started to turn to walk off to one side when the Saamoothiri raised his hand to stop her. He beckoned her forward, she came hesitantly and he turfed an indignant man from the seat beside him, indicating to Sara that she was to sit. She did so, gesturing to Mimi to sit at her feet. She inclined her head to the others, who melted into the throng of guests, all waiting eagerly to talk with them.
Sara looked around for the first time, while the Saamoothiri watched her avidly. Her eyes were caught by the women, none of whom seemed to be wearing clothes, but instead wrappings of gauze, twisted round their bodies in intricate manner. She had seen this in Kochin and indeed the streets here, but for the first time she saw women of quality wearing them. The gauze was far more revealing here, hardly anything beneath it but jewels which were legion, somehow stuck into belly buttons, which were all exposed, and gleaming from underneath the gauze as frequently as above. The gauze came in multitudes of colours, while the ladies swept their hair up into fantasy sculptures fastened with gold, which dripped down their faces, piercing every single nose in sight. Sara felt the Saamoothiri grasp her hand and turned her attention to the old man, who stroked her hand as he spoke.
“You are magnificent, Princess,” Mimi translated, “I can see your breeding at a glance. I admit I was sceptical when I heard about you, but one look at you convinces me. Tell me about your land and your father.”
Sara smiled, his words could have come from the mouth of any of the old courtiers at home. She felt a little homesick for the first time as she dived into the diplomatic dance.
Meanwhile, Captain Larroche, Brian and Suzanne were encountering difficulties in communication. Nobody present spoke Belada, but all wished to speak with them and they were individually surrounded, slowly eased away from each other. Their admirers endeavoured to communicate with sign language, rapidly causing Suzanne’s eyes to narrow as she suspected she was being repeatedly propositioned.
Sung Bai Ju was uncertain. She recognised Sara as the most important of her charges, but felt the others, especially Suzanne, were in more danger. Vacillation not being in her make up, she whispered to Hinatea, who nodded and manoeuvred herself to a position near Sara without the Saamoothiri’s guards noticing and merged into a statue beside her, invisible to most eyes. Sung Bai Ju eased through the crowd, slipping through minute cracks between people with the judicious use of prods from her fan. She arrived beside Suzanne at the same time as an overweight, sweaty man who barged through the men surrounding her. As soon as they saw him, angry expressions wiped from their faces and they backed away, leaving him to the fore where he inspected Suzanne’s frontage with indecent concentration. Suzanne bristled, but before she could express herself, Bai Ju broke the man’s line of sight with her fan and fluttered between them. He didn’t seem to notice as Suzanne stepped back, but grasped her arm and whispered something in his own language. Suzanne growled an earthy reply in Galician. The man frowned and released his grip as Bai Ju’s fan struck the tip of his thumb. She turned Suzanne adroitly and manoeuvred her between the men around Captain Larroche while the fat man stared after her, his wet tongue running over his lower lip.
Sung Bai Ju was concerned with her scouts. The feast had proceeded nicely, after a slight commotion in which the Saamoothiri placed Sara on his left. In the ensuring confusion Bai Ju countered the fat man’s expected ploy and managed to seat Suzanne away from him. She noted from his seat that he was an important personage. Now there was dancing and her charges were enthralled. Not just her charges, but her team of Pahippian girls.
The dancers wore dramatic make-up, proclaiming whether they were good or evil, and elaborate gold headdresses which shook to every movement. The dances were slow and languid, with lots of hand gestures and eye movement, while the background music beat rhythmically. A variety of drums and stringed instruments with long necks. The first few dances finished, a fanfare announced the arrival of more dancers, much smaller. Children, no more than eight years old, beautifully made up with wide smiles as they revelled in the dance. This made the girls coo with pleasure, particularly one young boy who pirouetted in front of them.
With blatant disregard for duty and total misuse of their new abilities, the Pahippian girls moved from guarding the backs of their charges to sitting in front of them, closer to the children, eyes only on them. Sung Bai Ju’s eyes whirled as she covered as many potential threats as possible. She collected some small pebbles from the bowls of a game left lying unattended, intending to throw them at the guards to recover their attention.
The fat man, whom Bai Ju now decided was oily rather than sweaty, leaned forward and spoke to Suzanne. Mimi, seated close enough, translated.
“He says he sees you like the children, like to watch them dance.”
“I love him. I want to take him home,” answered Hinatea, speaking for every woman present, even Sara nodding and smiling, every girl’s eye on the little boy, who smiled with care not to crack his extensive make-up. His chest puffed with pride as he moved into a complicated sequence, his brow furrowed in concentration. The girls sighed as one.
Not waiting for a translation, the fat man spoke again.
“He says he can make the dance much funnier,” said Mimi, who was distracted from the boy and looked with worry at the fat man who leered at Suzanne. The dance ended and the fat man called to the boy, who approached with care, concern written large across his face. The man spoke to him shortly and gave him a bowl to drink. The boy took the bowl, smelt it and tried to return it, but the man spoke harshly. The boy closed his eyes and gulped the drink down, returning the bowl and wiping a tear from his eye. The girls bristled as he returned to his place, unsure what had happened. It seemed an innocuous gift, a treat, but the joy had gone out of the boy who slunk back to his place.
The music started again and the children resumed their dance. The boy seemed to be going through the motions, his earlier exuberance evaporated. The girls tensed as he swayed with the music and the fat man bit back a laugh. The boy miss-stepped, weaved and fell over. Hinatea and Silmatea were beside him in an instant, lifting him up as the fat man roared with laughter, joined by his cronies. The boy giggled stupidly and vomited over Hinatea’s leg.
“He’s drunk,” snapped Hinatea, venom in her voice. Her glare transfixed the fat man, who began to realise his joke was not appreciated by the girls. The Pahippian warrior girls stood as one, turning on the fat man who sat up on his cushion, snapping his eyes away from Suzanne as he sensed mortal danger, for the girls radiated a dark energy of fury and menace. A number of warriors stepped forward, in front of the fat man, spears still upright and uncertain as to what to do with women, even ones who menaced by their very expressions. Hinatea raised her hand to the collar of her leathers, only to flinch away and shake her numb hand as a stone racked into the back of it.
“Stop!” Bai Ju cried as she shot forward to stand in front of her warriors, her back to the fat man and his guards. “Return to your duty. See, the boy is with his mother. You are guards, not avengers.”
To Sara’s astonishment, Bai Ju was obeyed instantly, the girls returning to their places where they watched the boy carried away by an older woman, also crying. Except Hinatea, whose eyes never left the fat man. She was the only one to hear Bai Ju’s final words, “For now.”
Pat smiled at the bird under the fruit tree with incredulity. The colours! It was scarlet, with greens and blues and a virulent orange, hooked beak that it used to rip up a slice of papaya. It sat on a perch with a chain on its leg. Mara and Wiwik beside him were not interested in the bird, but carefully flexing their muscles and stretching for the benefit of the palace girls watching them through a screen. Rat was apparently asleep in the sun, but Pat knew he was watching the guards through his lashes. They were outside the entrance to the Palace reception rooms, where they had been left on refusing to relinquish their weapons. Sara was inside, with Suzanne and the new interpreter. Bai Ju was with her with four Pahippian girls led by Hinatea as guards.
Even so, Pat had a prickle down his spine. Something was wrong. He knew the others felt it and caressed his bow lovingly as he watched the parrot, feeling the oiled wood and the soul of his bow. He kept an eye on Silmatea, who was in position in the doorway where she could relay any messages. He could see her flexing slightly, and knew she was keeping the Kalikut guards attention on herself.
A meeting had been arranged for today to discuss trade and mutual military assistance, the latter somewhat to Sara’s surprise. She was meeting with the Varakkal Paranamb. Mimi explained that this was the trade minister.
They waited for them in an airy room, seated on cushions around a low table. The walls of the room were intricate carvings, enabling spies to report their every move.
Suzanne and Sara sat at a table, while Mimi sat at one end of the table to interpret. At the opposite end sat a scribe, also an interpreter, to record the conversation. He stared into space, absently caressing his chest, oblivious of the girls. Sung Bai Ju, in her war costume of doll-like silks and white painted face, placed a Pahippian girl, Trieste, behind Suzanne and Hinatea behind Sara. The Pahippians wore the harness devised by Bai Ju made of leather, which covered them fairly well and was modest, while leaving sufficient areas of bare skin to make them feel comfortable. They had no apparent weapons. Silmatea guarded the doorway, while Bai Ju and Rerata stood half way between, merging into the shadows. There were ten Kalikut guards in the room, smartly dressed in exaggerated puffy orange trousers and blue shirts, while clasping spears that towered above themselves. After half an hour their level of alertness had dropped right down, all looking at Silmatea who was the only girl moving, slowly going through exercises where she tensed muscles one after the other. This created an illusion of dance which gradually mesmerised the guards. Bai Ju watched from behind her fan
For the first fifteen minutes, the girls kept up a desultory conversation, steering clear of meeting subjects. Suspecting they would be kept waiting for some time, Sara decided to speed things up. She flowed into the graceful cross-legged position Takeo taught her, resting her hands on her knees, turned up with thumbs on the second finger. Suzanne followed suit, they turned their eyes up and went into meditative trance. Mimi stared at them. This was only her second day, and while she liked her new masters, she found them a continual mystery.
A slight scuffling noise behind the carved screen wall suggested somebody wanted a better view and Bai Ju and the Pahippian girls, with their trained hearing, heard the footsteps moving rapidly away.
In less than ten minutes a gentle slapping of slippers announced the arrival of a man, a gentle man with greying hair, thin at the top who peered at them over his uncertain smile.
“Good morning, I am Ranjit Pirloo and I have the honour of being the Varakkal Paranamb for Kalikut,” he spoke excellent Belada. “Please stay seated, it is my honour to meet such exalted personages.” He slipped into a seat opposite Captain Larroche and peered at them, intelligent eyes taking them in quickly. “I believe from your demeanour that you do not share the customs of the Mappila and would be happy to conduct business from the start? Yes? Excellent! I regret I am a busy man and much as I enjoy your company, I need to conclude the business rapidly. However my colleage the Kunjali Marakar wishes to speak with you after this meeting if you would be so kind.”
Sara inclined her head and listened while the Varakkal and his assistants dived into a technical discussion with Captain Larroche and Brian, with Suzanne contributing. She struggled to follow it, but berated herself for finding it boring, reminding herself that trade was the true route to power, providing the wealth for the armies to keep her and Harrhein safe. She tried to pick out the highlights, determined to test herself later with the Captain. It was definitely spices that held his interest, though cloth also made a brave show. She noted that Captain Larroche concentrated on the volume of trade, establishing the rarity of each spice rather than the value and use.