The Temple Dancer (25 page)

"You just think it does," Maya answered, stroking the bones. She
looked into Lucinda's eyes. "You want it to hurt."

"I don't!" She stared back at Maya. "What are you doing?" Maya's fingers made her ankle feel longer, softer somehow. Lucinda closed her eyes,
strangely transported by the warmth, but only for a moment.

"Close your eyes." Maya's face was so confident that Lucinda could
not disobey. The image of the bandit tore into her mind, but she kept her
eyes tight. "There," she pouted.

"Better," Maya said, as if she could see into Lucinda's dream. "Let your
mind wander."

Fascinated despite her reservations, Lucinda kept her eyes shut and did
as she was told. She found herself again by the stream, again in terror. Tears
streamed from her eyes. Then, suddenly, she saw not the bandit's face, but
the captain's. Her eyes flew open. "Pathan," she cried, leaping to her feet.

"Yes." Maya's hair clung to her damp face. She looked exhausted. "Yes,
we must help him."

A moment later they were hurrying through the courtyard, Lucinda walking as if her ankle had never been hurt. "Wait," Maya said as they passed her
own door. She stepped inside and returned holding a tiny enameled jar.
"Hold still," she said; and with the stick on the jar's stopper placed a drop of
blackness into each eye. "Kohl," she told her as Lucinda blinked. "It will
clear the whites. You don't want Pathan to see you with your eyes red from
tears."

Impulsively Lucinda took Maya's hands. "When you show me such
kindness, how shall I keep from crying even more?" With their shoulders
pressed together, they walked across the causeway.

Belgaum was a warren of winding old streets and alleys. Maya asked a
half-dozen people in the town before a boy helped them find the house of
the hakim. The boy kept glancing over his shoulder, holding himself very
tall and looking very serious. Wisps of fuzz had just begun growing on his
cheeks and upper lip, and he would one day be handsome. Lucinda wondered if he were married.

The old hakim came and stood blinking as the two women came to his
door, as if hoping they were a dream that would vanish if he could just wake
up. "You may not be here," he told them at last.

"Don't be absurd," Lucinda answered. "We won't leave without seeing
him."

The hakim blinked his old eyes once more. "You are a farang! But
dressed so? It can't be!"

"We will see Pathan now, sir," Lucinda insisted. Without waiting for
permission, she stepped past him. He was too frail to put up much resistance. Maya shrugged and followed. "Where have you put him?" Lucinda
asked.

"But he is near death," the hakim said, now reduced to pleading.

"That is why we have come," Maya answered softly. The hakim grumbled, but then led them to a small dark room. Smells so crowded the air
that Lucinda recoiled when she started to enter. Smoke, herbs, urine, and excrement hung in the darkness like an unseen fog. Maya stepped past her
and found the clasp of the shuttered window. "No, he must have darkness!" the doctor hissed. Maya ignored him and pushed aside the shutter.
Light streamed through in a single beam; the rest of the room stayed hid in
shadow.

In the sudden sunlight Maya saw Pathan, limp as a broken doll. One of
his hands poked from beneath his rough blanket, looking unnaturally pale.
"Come," she said to Lucinda as she knelt near his head, but Lucinda could
not move; no, she could barely breathe.

"His head is broken, see?" the hakim said, pulling aside a dingy bandage. "Here behind the ear." He pointed with a twiglike finger.

"Why is there no blood?" Maya demanded.

"It means he will die."

"Quiet. He'll hear you," Lucinda whispered.

The hakim merely shook his head. "The fresh air will disorder his
spirit," he murmured as he moved to shutter the open window. "Not that it
makes any difference."

"Leave it," Maya said. She had placed her fingers over Pathan's ear.

"You will kill him! His blood will be on your hands, not mine."

"You've found someone else to blame for his death, you mean," Lucinda said.

"Be quiet both of you!" Maya whispered. Something in the set of
Maya's chin unnerved the hakim, and he shuffled quickly from the room.

"Can you fix him?" Lucinda sat beside Maya, fumbling with her unfamiliar sari skirt. "Say you can."

"He's very far away. I can hardly find him." Maya's eyes were closed, as
if she were listening for a faint sound.

Lucinda wrapped her arms around Maya, pressing her cheek near her
ear. "Help him, help him," she murmured.

As Lucinda clung to her, Maya slowly probed Pathan's head. "Be very
still," Maya whispered. Lucinda held her breath. She could feel Maya's
heartbeat. She stood that way for what seemed like hours. Sweat began to
pour from Maya's body, and from her own.

Then Lucinda heard Pathan give a rattling groan. "He can't have died,"
she cried.

"No, he lives." Maya slumped to the floor beside his bed.

Lucinda sat near Pathan's bedside. Maya had gone outside to catch her
breath.

Pathan would open his eyes for a moment and then close them as if the
light made him dizzy. Finally he blinked at her. "Madam," he whispered.

Lucinda felt suddenly terrified at the prospect of speaking to him.
"You're thirsty. Let me fetch you some water," she whispered, standing up.

"No," Pathan said. "Sit beside me."

Lucinda pulled her sari back into place as best she could, feeling almost
naked. She patted her hair and tried to keep her breasts covered with her
elbows. The bangles Maya had given her clinked on her arm. She was careful not to touch him. "Is the light too bright for you, Captain?" she said.
She hated the formality she heard in her voice.

"I love the light, more than you can imagine." He reached out for her
hand. His long fingers curled around her palm, dark against her pale skin.
"I was in a place of darkness. I thought I would never see the light. Then I
heard you calling me."

Lucinda's fingers trembled in his hand like the heart of a caught bird.
"It was Maya who called you, Captain."

"It was your voice I heard, madam," he answered, looking at her with
bright, burning eyes. "Your voice that led me to the light."

She gazed at him for a long time. "You're thirsty, Captain. I'll get water."
As she took her hand from his, her eyes drifted to his mouth, to his lips.

She had strength enough to turn her head, but she could not find the
strength to leave his side. His long fingers again found her open hand.
"How different you look, madam, dressed so." Lucinda felt herself blushing, but did not move. He slowly drew his thumb across her palm. "So different, yet I always would know you. Always." Lucinda could not help
turning toward him. The silence of the room seemed to roar in her ears.
"How blind I was, madam. I have looked at you so often, but seen only
your farang garments, and never saw the woman. Forgive me, I beg you."

She found it difficult to speak. "You saved my life and nearly lost your
own. There is nothing to forgive." His eyes were wide, dark. And she knew
that her eyes were speaking to him, speaking words she dare not say aloud. She pulled back her hand, knowing that she must leave. "I'll be back soon,
Captain."

His eyes never left hers. "Come back quickly."

Once outside she leaned against the wall clutching the cold pitcher to
her breast. It took her a long time to find her breath.

She looked up to find Maya and the doctor staring at her. "He's awake," she
said. She was certain that they could see her trembling. "I'm getting him some
water," she added, holding out the pitcher as if hoping it would distract them.

"I will take care of this," the hakim said. Perhaps Maya had said something to him, for he no longer seemed so unfriendly. In fact, his old eyes
crinkled at Lucinda, in what she understood was meant to be a smile.

Maya gave her a knowing look. Again Lucinda felt her herself blushing.

Maya gave a short laugh. "Slipper's gone."

"Dead?"

Maya laughed again. "No, not dead. Gone. He tried to beat me this
morning, and your cousin Geraldo kicked him out of the palace. The hakim
tells me someone gave him a ride to Bijapur. He's gone, sister."

"No more Slipper? Whatever shall we do?" Then Lucinda laughed with
Maya.

But the hakim scowled when he returned. "You laugh at him, but I think
you should not laugh. If he is the one I think, he is a dangerous fellow. Very
nasty."

"We know he is nasty," Maya said. "But why dangerous?"

"I've heard tales. I will say no more." He glanced at the windows as if
fearful spies were lurking there. "But if he has gone to Bijapur, I say beware."
With that he took the pitcher to Pathan's room.

"Beware of what?" Lucinda asked.

But before anyone answered, the hakim cried out. "What have you
done to my patient?" Pathan was drenched in sweat. The hakim began to
take his pulses, first his neck, then his wrists.

"His pulse will tell you. He is strong and growing stronger," Maya
said. "But he will sleep for many days."

"How can you know this?" the hakim asked skeptically.

"But he was talking to me. Holding my. . ." Lucinda cut her thought
short.

"He woke because he felt your presence," Maya said. "Now he will
sleep."

"Will he be all right, sister? Did you cure him?"

"I just took his pain away. It will help him heal."

"But what happens to it? Where does the pain go?" Lucinda looked at
Maya with concern. "Do you take it on yourself?

Maya did not answer.

"But will he be better?" Lucinda asked, suddenly worried. "All better?"

Maya nodded. "Yes, all better, except that he will remember nothing."

"Maybe not," Lucinda sighed. "But I will remember. Everything."

As she walked back to the palace, holding Lucinda's hand, Maya considered the idea that had come to her, sitting on the roof with Lakshmi. If it
worked, she realized, it would solve all her problems. And once she had
seen the solution to her problems, Maya embraced it. It was not as extreme as killing, herself or someone else, not as uncertain as running away.
Not so terrible, she reasoned, yet it would destroy her value with a single
stroke.