Toads and Diamonds (31 page)

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Her sister and her pursuer both turned. Again, they froze where they stood. Alwar's breath rasped in the silence.

With her bound hands, Diribani scooped up the banded snake. She clamped her fingers around its jaw so the venomous fangs couldn't emerge. "Let my sister go, or I release the krait," Diribani said. "Who do you think it will bite first?"

"Oh, Diribani." Tana's voice shook. "You don't have to sacrifice yourself for me, truly." At her words, three more snakes writhed upon the steps.

"Don't do it! The witch can leave, and may devils take her!" Alwar retreated, but kept his sword pointed at the snakes by Tana's bare feet.

Tana didn't move. "Sir," she said.

"Get out!" Alwar shouted. "Demon spawn."

"But, sir..." Tana pointed behind him.

Whirling, Alwar brought the sword down in a mighty chopping blow that would have beheaded a cobra. Steel hit wood, then stone; sparks flashed.

"Mind the bucket," Tana added helpfully as the man's ferocious swing carried him farther than he meant to go. He caught his heel on the edge of a step and flailed his arms, fighting for his balance. He might have recovered it, but the long scabbard swung around his waist and tapped him on the leg. He jerked away, as if from a serpent striking, and fell.

Diribani had kicked off the steps with all the strength in her legs. Alwar toppled like a downed tree. With a resounding crack, bone met stone. The harsh sound of his breathing ceased.

Was he dead?

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Diribani couldn't look away from the snake that thrashed in her hands. "Help," she said, as Tana ran down the steps. "What do I do?"

"Let it go," Tana said.

"Get back." Diribani risked a glance upward. "I didn't grab hold of a krait so it would bite both of us."

Her sister grinned at her. "If it did, we'd be sore for a couple of days," she said. "That's a wolf snake. Not poisonous."

"But..." Diribani stared at the irritated serpent, whose tail flicked mimosa blossoms from side to side. "Black and white bands. You said krait."

"They're often confused," Tana said. "Here. I'll take it." Deftly, she slid her hands behind the snake's head and lifted the wiggling length out of Diribani's grasp. She carried the naga some distance away and set it on a step. "Peace, friend." A ratter dropped at her feet. The wolf snake retreated.

Diribani sagged against the stone as her sister ran back to her. Tana launched herself at Diribani and hugged her so fiercely that the soaked dress wrap left big wet splotches on her own. Diribani buried her face in Tana's shoulder. Shudders racked her body as fear drained away, leaving her limp.

Naghali-ji hadn't abandoned her. Who else could have brought Diribani's sister to her side at the moment when she expected to die? The goddess's hand had surely guided Tana's snakes; the fear and hate that ruled Alwar had completed the man's destruction. As far as Diribani could tell, he hadn't moved or breathed since his fall.

Relief tasted like nectar on her tongue.

Tana pulled back, though she kept hold of Diribani's elbows. "The goddess must have sent you," she exclaimed, echoing Diribani's

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thought. A boa slithered past her knees. "I've missed you so much. Tell me everything!"

Diribani lifted her bound hands. "Cut me loose?" she suggested. Ashoka flowers and rubies glowed in the dawn light.

As she struggled to untie the wet rope, Tana exclaimed at her sister's bruised and swollen fingers.

"Do you have a knife?" Diribani asked.

"Alwar's sword." Tana fetched the weapon and carefully sawed at the cord. Strand by strand, it parted. Diribani shook her numb hands. With a grimace of distaste, Tana put the sword aside.

Diribani stood and looked down at the governor's still form. "May his next life teach him what he failed to learn from this one," she said soberly. White starflowers drifted into the still air.

Tana squinted up at the sky. "Not to be unfeeling, but we'd better get his body out of the open before the day gets any hotter and the carrion birds come."

Together, the two of them wrapped Alwar's body, sword and all, in the woolen robe and carried it up the stairs to one of the outer pavilions. Diribani's unexpected swim had refreshed her, but she knew that all the poppy juice she'd been forced to drink would make her weak and sick for some time. "Baby steps," she told Tana, and her sister agreed.

Even if she'd been stronger, the heat was punishing. It pressed on them, making every step an effort. Tana helped Diribani wash properly, avoiding the chafed places around her chin and wrists from the gag and the ropes. The sun glared off the tank's surface and all the exposed stone, heating it like a bread oven.

After Tana had watered the camels and foraged for food in the saddlebags, they retreated to the shade of a pavilion. All the while,

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they shared their stories. Tana collected the gemstones and Diribani the flowers, weaving garlands for their hair. They let the snakes and frogs go their own ways. As the sun approached its highest point, they rested, assaulted by the light that blasted into every shadowed nook.

Tana pointed. "You can see the water drying down there."

"Uh." Diribani fanned her cheeks with the end of her once-grand dress wrap. The yellow silk was ruined. She just wished it would cool more of her face. Then she smiled at herself. She and Tana were together; they were free. What else could she desire? As if in answer, the hot air stirred by her face. "Tana?"

"What?"

Diribani stood up, briefly distracted by the antics of several spotted frogs. "Did you feel that?" She heard it, too. Around the tank, trees were stirring. Leaves danced, shaking off the dust. The wind strengthened, pushing big black thunderclouds across the sky.

"Oh." Tana followed her to the edge of the pavilion.

The sun fought the clouds. One by one, its arrows of blazing light were quenched. As if dusk had fallen early, the sky darkened. The wind, victorious, blew in earnest, scattering twigs and leaves across the surface of the tank. It tugged at Tana's and Diribani's dress wraps. They leaned against the pillar, unwilling to go into the entry pavilion and miss the cosmic drama playing overhead.

At the distant rumbling sound, they drew closer together. Side by side, they let the wind play with their hair, whipping it around their heads. Or ears, in Tana's case. Diribani grinned at her sister. Hot, heavy air shimmered with expectation. Not yet, almost...

CRACK!

Lightning split the clouds. Grandfather Chelok's diamond

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lances had bested the sun again. Diribani held her breath and Tana's hand. Her hair fanned away from her face. One, two...five. Thunder boomed, shaking the well's stone pillars. With a noise like an infinity of tiny frogs hitting the water all at once, the rains came.

Water cascaded over them. It hissed against the well's baked stone and cooled the air instantly. Curtains of rain swept across the tank, hiding the far side. Within moments, Diribani was drenched. Her hair and dress wrap stuck to her, as sodden as if she had jumped into the well's depths again. Reveling in the sensation, she let the blinding rain wash away everything but gratitude. And hope. Having escaped from Alwar, found Tana, and greeted the rains, all in the same day, she felt anything was possible.

"Tonight, beloved, I light the lamp," she sang softly. "Come home to me, my moonbird. Come."

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***

CHAPTER THIRTY Tana

YOU
saw Naghali-ji?" children would ask Tana in later years. "What does she look like?"

"Sometimes she comes as a beautiful queen, dripping with jewels, and tests your pride. Sometimes a sick old woman tests your compassion. And sometimes she looks like a laborer, and drives a wagon full of corpses."

"Eeew." Her listeners would shiver in fascinated horror. "And tests what?"

"Your sense of humor," Tana had concluded.

It had taken her a while to understand. After a night and another day of torrential rains at the well, the skies above the tank had cleared late in the afternoon. Dark clouds faded to pale gray and then fleecy white, as if they'd been washed and hung out to dry. The sun's late rays swept the sky, showing that there were no hard feelings. Bestowing a parting gift on the clouds, the sun dyed them colors that Diribani sighed over: hyacinth and lotus, tawny

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rose, lily yellow. Washed of their dust coating, the trees shone dark green, every leaf renewed. Puddles steamed on the wet ground. Awakening from their seasonal slumbers, insects buzzed and shrilled as the temperature climbed again. Into this gorgeous scene, misty with possibility and promise, a broad-shouldered woman in a laborer's short wrap drove a canvas-covered wagon.

Tana and Diribani heard the oxen complaining and came out to see who it was. The driver pulled up and grinned at them. "Two pretty young ladies in reprehensible outfits. That's a picture you don't see every day."

Tana was trying not to gag from the stench. The woman's load had the unmistakably pungent, horrible smell of decay. Her oxen, it appeared, wanted nothing more to do with their load, or the insects that followed.

The driver didn't seem to notice. "I'm bound for the cremation field," she said in a confiding tone. "If you hadn't guessed."

"Excuse me." Carnations fluttered from Diribani's lips. She ran to the other side of the pavilion.

The woman raised her eyebrows at the flowers. She turned to Tana. "Got any ripe ones for me?"

Tana breathed through her mouth. Below the disgust, another sensation tugged at her awareness. As they had just before the clouds opened, the little hairs along her skin were standing up in alarm. She would have looked up for Grandfather Chelok's diamond-lightning lances, but the danger wasn't above her; it was before her. The woman sat on the cart bench, elbows resting on her knees, dark skin and hair radiant with health. Those white teeth, when she smiled--had they been filed to points?

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"Peace, Ma-ji." Tana folded her hands. A frog and a toad went separate ways. "We do, yes. Over here, please."

"The toad girl and the flower girl, eh?" The woman jumped off the cart and tied her oxen to a tree a good distance from the restive camels.

All of Tana's sense screamed at her. Fall down and beg forgiveness. Be still. Run away! She bit her lip and walked to the pavilion where she and Diribani had left Alwar's body.

Her head lifted with a cobra's regal assurance, the corpse collector strode beside her. "Eh, he's a big one." She picked up a corner of the robe they had wrapped him in. "Give us a hand, toad girl?"

Glad she didn't have to see the dead face again, Tana picked up the other side. The corpse's weight pulled at her arms, but together the two women managed to carry Alwar's body out to the cart. The stranger flipped up a corner of the canvas. "In we go," she said, ignoring the flies that whirled out in blinding numbers.

Tana held her breath, shut her eyes, and pushed the body over the cart sides. It landed with a thump. The smell got worse, if that was possible. While the woman fastened the canvas, Tana went to lean against the front of the cart. She panted, sure she would never get the horrible smell out of her nose. The spectacular colors had fled the sky. Twilight descended softly.

Diribani held a bucket under an ox's muzzle. She waited while it slurped and slobbered. The other beast had finished drinking and wiped its face on Diribani, leaving dribbles to run down the front of her dress wrap.

When Diribani saw Tana looking at her, she shrugged. Our

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clothes are ruined already, she seemed to be saying. "I brought another bucket," she did say aloud, and pointed with her chin.

The ox snorted at the branch of jasmine and small stone that dropped into its water. When the creature lipped Diribani's fingers, she freed one hand to rub its forehead.

Tana hoisted the full bucket. "May I pour for you?" she asked as the corpse collector came around the back of the cart to join them. A whip snake streaked past her, making for the shelter of the mango trees.

"Very kind," the death woman said. She rinsed her fingers under the stream of clear water, then held out her wet hands for the bucket. "Your turn."

Tana stretched out her palms. She had refused to be served the last time. She knew better now. Awareness, and awe, made her shiver.

"And you, Mina." The woman crooked her finger at Diribani.

"Thank you, Ma-ji." Tana's sister approached to hold out her own empty hands. Her face was quiet with the same reverence Tana felt, and the same fear.

They had borne the goddess's gifts for months. How would she judge their service?

The woman put down the bucket and rested her hands on her broad hips. The last remaining light gathered in her features. Surrounding darkness concealed all but that strong nose and chin, the high forehead and unfathomable eyes. She stretched out her arms to lay one hand on the side of Tana's head and the other against Diribani's ear. Lightly, she knocked their heads together, a she-bear cuffing her cubs. "Be good to each other." Her voice was as sweet and strong as incense. "Everyone rides with me, in the end."