Jani and the Greater Game (The Multiplicity Series Book 1) (38 page)

“If my father were alive,” Jani said with a catch in her throat, “then perhaps I might have persuaded him to listen...”

“Your father, like those above him, chose to ignore our warnings as too fantastical, as the nightmares of madmen. Or, who knows, perhaps some in the government did give credence to our stories, but were silenced or sidelined by those more powerful? The wily machinations and power games of the human race have constantly eluded my understanding.”

Jani stared down at the deck, silent. She saw movement to her left and looked up. Anand stood in the doorway, an expression of amazement on his face. She wondered how long he had been standing there, wondered how much he had heard.

She smiled at him reassuringly, then looked at Jelch and asked, “And how do I fit into your plans? You have enlisted my aid, or used me – but to what end?”

Jelch stared at her. “Jani, I have told you much. I have told you more than I ever intended. Please believe me when I repeat that, for the time being, there are some things that it is better you do not know.”

She said in little more than a whisper, “The coin you gave me... That is important, is it not?”

“As I said, the less you know...”

She recalled something that Durga Das had told her. “The Hindu priest who captured me... he too wanted the coin, just as the Russians did. He called it a tithra-kun̄jī. What did he mean?”

Jelch turned his head away, staring down at the controls.

“And how did Durga Das know of the key,” she asked, “and why did he want it?”

“That is a mystery. I know no more than you about this so-called holy man.”

“Or so you say,” Jani said to herself.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Das comes to his senses –

The Age of Kali will commence – The Goddess speaks again –

“And when we have the girl...?”

D
URGA
D
AS CAME
to his senses, sat up and stared around the room.

He’d had the Chatterjee girl in his grasp! He was
that
far from securing the tithra-kun̄jī –
that
far from bringing about his life’s work. And all would have gone to plan, had it not been for the intervention of the foreign pair he suspected were Russian.

Vikram, he thought. If Vikram had not sold his information about the girl to the Russians... He smiled to himself. As soon as they returned to Delhi, he would have Mr Knives flay Vikram alive.

He sat against the wall, regaining his breath. In the far corner, Mr Knives was climbing to his feet. The young man picked up his knife from the floor, then checked the lining of his jacket. He smiled when he saw that his array of blades was still in place.

Mr Knives noticed Das watching him and asked, “Who were they, and what did they want with the girl?”

“I think they were Russian,” Das said, “and that they wanted the girl for the same reasons that we want her.”

His heart almost stopped as a terrible thought occurred to him. Had the Russians...?

He scrabbled at the hem of his robe, revealed his expansive thighs, and slipped a hand into the cleft of his groin. He laughed with relief. The coin was still there, wrapped in its square of silk.

He knew what he had to do now. He must summon Kali, abase himself before the goddess, admit his abject failure, and ask for guidance. It went against his nature to grovel before anyone, but in the case of a goddess he would be prepared to make an exception.

He was reaching beneath his robes again when something appeared in the air before him.

Kali, apparently, was pre-empting his summons.

His heart began a laboured thudding as he watched the oval portal gain substance and the blue-faced creature stare out at him. He could not tell, from the expression on Kali’s face, if the goddess was displeased. Its terrible rictus was unreadable. Across the room, Mr Knives backed away in fright.

Das pressed his hands together in supplication and said, “My apologies...!”

“The girl and the tithra-kun̄jī are in the air, heading for Nepal.” Kali’s tone was not censorious, and Das almost wept with relief. “You will follow her aboard your airship.”

Das bowed low over his belly. “Of course, of course. And then?”

“You will land in Annapurnabad,” said Kali. “There, I will guide you to the girl and what she carries. You will apprehend her and obtain the tithra-kun̄jī.”

Das nodded, hardly able to contain his excitement as he asked, “And the third key?”

“The third key is far away. When you have obtained the second, we will turn our attention to the third.”

“And then...”

“And then,” said the goddess, “truly the Age of Kali will commence.”

The portal closed, swirling to a point and vanishing as if it had never been. Das felt the runaway beating of his heart as he dwelt on the goddess’s words...

The Age of Kali will commence...

Mr Knives cowered against the far wall, his mouth working. At last he managed. “What... what was that, baba-ji?”

“Do you not recognise Kali when you see the goddess?” Das cried. “I, Durga Das, can summon the goddess at will!”

Mr Knives stared at Das with pop-eyed respect.

“We have no time to lose,” Das said, and led Mr Knives from the room.

The ancient proprietor was hovering on the landing. “Sir!” she cried. “Oh, I am relieved to see that you are unharmed. I called the police when I saw what the Europeans had done to you, but they have yet to turn up.”

“I thank you for your concern,” Das said, “but I assure you that we are unharmed.”

“And then the British military turned up, just one hour ago, asking for the girl.”

The British... That was all he needed at this juncture, the interference of the perfidious British!

He thanked the old woman once more, assured her that all was in hand, and hurried from the guest house.

They caught a taxi as the sun was going down over the hills, and Das urged the driver to make haste to the airyard.

“We are going to Nepal?” Mr Knives asked at one point.

“We are revisiting my ancestral homeland, Mr Knives. The cradle of my illustrious family. There is no vale more beautiful than that of Lokhara, as you will see – despite the city of Annapurnabad, of course, which the British built and so despoiled the land.”

“And when we have the girl?”

Das thought ahead to when they would possess the second tithra-kun̄jī, and then the third. “And then Kali will return, and cleanse the land of the British, destroy them as it is written! And our country will return to the people to whom it rightly belongs – and it will be my doing, Mr Knives. I will have worked with Kali to bring peace to our homeland!”

Mr Knives shook his head in wonder and Das went on, “And you, my faithful servant, will be rewarded amply.”

They arrived at the airyard as darkness was falling and Das presented himself to the commanding officer. He produced his papers, his identity card, and his visa which allowed him entry into the protected territory of Nepal.

It pained him to scrape and bow to the stuffed shirt in charge of the airyard, but as always in his dealings with the British he found himself reacting to their disdain with a show of subservience. He had tried treating them with the arrogance he exhibited towards those he considered lower than himself, but the consequences had not been conducive to attaining the desired results. The British expected their subjects to grovel... but, oh – how the tables would be turned, one day!

The officer regarded the visa. “Nepal, hm? And what’ll you be doing there, of all places?”

“I am Durga Das, venerated High Priest of the Temple of Kali. My ancestors hail from the once proud Kingdom of Nepal. I return to conduct important religious ceremonies.”

“Ceremonies, hm?” the officer said. “And how long do you plan to stay there, Mr Das?”

“My duties should not detain me for more than two days.”

“And this chappie?” the officer said, eyeing Mr Knives.

“You will see that my visa allows the entry of my aide also.”

The officer scanned the document and grunted. “Well, it seems to be in order.” He passed the visa to his secretary. “Stamp this, Wilson. Valid for two days.”

A minute later the job was done, and the officer returned the visa to Das. “There you are, Mr Das.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Chalo, chalo, now there’s a good chap.”

Das took his visa, smiled at the officer with hatred in his eyes, swept from the office and crossed to the waiting airship.

Thirty minutes later they were aloft and forging through the night towards Nepal.

Durga Das ensconced himself in an armchair and contemplated finally apprehending the girl and obtaining the second tithra-kun̄jī. As Mr Knives slept, Das pulled the disc from its place of concealment, stared at the mysterious script spiralling towards its centre, and dreamed.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

Towards Annapurnabad – An alien ship –

Jani’s mission –“Only time will tell...”