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Authors: Geoffrey Wilson

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BOOK: The Place of Dead Kings
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‘There is something about you . . . I cannot explain what it is, but I sense it. I sensed it when we first met.’

Jack sighed. He felt a weight of tiredness on his shoulders. He sat back down in front of Kanvar. ‘Whatever ability I might have, it’s gone.’

‘You must keep trying. If your ability comes back soon you could still be saved.’

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Perhaps. What’s your interest in all this anyway? You still haven’t told me.’

‘I would have thought it obvious. The Rajthanans are the enemies of the Sikhs. Our countries have often fought. I am in England with my other countrymen to . . . investigate the uprising.’

‘You’re a spy.’

Kanvar smiled. ‘In part. I am also here to help the uprising. You saw me and the other Sikhs fighting in London. We will do what we can to assist the English.’

Jack had indeed seen Kanvar in London and for a moment he wondered whether the Sikh had ever suspected him of being involved in William’s death. Kanvar had never voiced any suspicion, however, so it seemed he knew nothing.

‘Why are you interested in me particularly, though?’ Jack asked.

‘Oh, I think you are potentially very useful to the English. A siddha, who wants to train other English siddhas. But more than that. Someone who has shown, at least once, an unbelievable ability.’

‘I bet you Sikhs would like to learn how I did it.’

Kanvar nodded thoughtfully. ‘That is certainly true. I would like to understand this very much.’

Jack stood and brushed the straw from his tunic. ‘Well, if you’re here to help, there’s one thing you can do for me.’

Kanvar looked at Jack intently.

‘Don’t tell anyone I’m still sick. Especially not Elizabeth. Just say I’m cured.’

‘But that is not true.’

‘There’s no point worrying anyone.’ Jack eyed Kanvar closely. ‘You keep your mouth shut for the time being.’

Kanvar bowed his head slightly. ‘As you wish.’

‘Lightning.’ Kanvar stood before the pupils in the House of Sorcery, pointing at a new yantra on a banner strung up on the wall. ‘
Saudamani
in Rajthani. It is a war yantra. Useful against large numbers of troops, but not so good against artillery or avatars.’

The pupils stared at the Sikh with open mouths. Not a single one of them moved or looked away even for a second. Most of the lads had only occasionally seen Indians, and even then only at a distance. Some had never seen an Indian at all. With his brilliant orange tunic and turban, dark skin, loose trousers and knee-high boots, Kanvar was like some exotic bird that had appeared out of legend.

‘You should learn this first out of all the war yantras,’ Kanvar continued. ‘The design is less complex than the others and the operation is simpler. Once you have mastered this, you will be ready to move on to the others.’

Kanvar stepped back from the banner.

‘You heard him.’ Mark raised his cane. ‘Get learning it.’

The lads all sat perfectly still and stared at the banner, concentrating harder than they ever had before. Not only would they be in awe of Kanvar, they would also be tantalised by the prospect of learning a yantra they could fight with. After all, that was why Jack was training them – to fight the Rajthanans.

Kanvar, Jack and Mark stood to one side, watching.

‘Lightning,’ Mark said. ‘We never knew the proper names.’

‘No,’ Kanvar said. ‘I understand the Rajthanans don’t teach them.’

‘The Rajthanans don’t teach Europeans anything other than the native siddha yantra.’ Jack pointed at the native yantra drawn on a large sheet of paper lying nearby.

‘Ah, yes,’ Kanvar said. ‘They call it simply “Europa”. A unique yantra, in that none have been able to use it, save for Europeans.’

‘And why is that?’ Jack asked.

‘No one knows for sure. It seems somehow particular to these lands.’ Kanvar glanced at Jack and smiled. ‘In India we like to think we know everything there is to know about yantras and sattva. But once you start travelling you realise there is much more to learn.’

Jack found it strange to hear an Indian say something like that. His Rajthanan officers had always seemed so full of knowledge, so sure of their understanding of the world. ‘The Rajthanans told me Europeans couldn’t learn anything other than the Europa.’

‘That is not true. Europeans can learn any yantra. You have demonstrated that yourself.’

‘Yes.’ Jack rubbed his chin. ‘That’s as I thought. So, is there something wrong with the way I’ve been teaching this lot, then?’ He motioned to his acolytes. ‘Hardly any of them manage it.’

‘I think not. There is no secret to the teaching. It takes a long time to learn a yantra and many don’t succeed, even if they are sensitive to sattva. This is true of Indians just as much as Europeans.’

They were interrupted by a young boy from the village who appeared at the door and said to Jack, ‘Sir, the men from Newcastle are here again.’

‘The Constable?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes, sir.’

Jack balled one hand into a fist. So, Henry and his men had come back for the so-called witch. That hadn’t taken long. Perhaps Henry had heard Jack was ill and thought to take advantage of the situation.

Jack turned to his acolytes. ‘Come on, you lot.’

They all marched across the village green, Jack and Mark in front, with Kanvar and the apprentices following in a phalanx. Other villagers were assembling on the outskirts of Folly Brook, near the road to Newcastle.

Jack strode into the group. ‘What’s going on?’

Tom pointed up the road and Jack made out a man on horseback. The rider was definitely Henry – Jack could see the large man’s black, fur-trimmed cloak and white crusader surcoat. But there was no sign of Henry’s henchmen.

Strange. Was it some kind of trick?

Jack had no weapons on him and there was no time now to return to his hut to fetch any.

He heard the hiss of a sword being unsheathed.

Godwin stepped up beside him and held out his longsword. ‘Sir, take my blade.’

Jack frowned. He was actually grateful for the gesture at that moment. But he decided against taking the sword. Henry had come alone, so it was only right to see what he had to say for himself first.

Henry dismounted, tethered his horse to a tree and swaggered across the grass. His arming-sword swayed at his hip and an ornate pistol glinted in his belt.

‘I’ve told you before,’ Jack said. ‘The woman stays here.’

Henry raised his hand. ‘Calm down. I haven’t come for the girl.’ He stopped suddenly, stared at Kanvar and narrowed his eyes. ‘A Rajthanan. So, you truly are a traitor.’

‘He’s not a Rajthanan,’ Jack said. ‘He’s a Sikh.’

‘They’re all the same. He’ll kill you in your sleep if you keep him here, mark my words.’

‘He’s a friend. And he’s been here three days so far and we’re still alive.’

Henry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes darted about the crowd of villagers. Eventually, he snorted and shook his head. ‘You’re a strange one, Jack Casey. And you seem to have all these good people bewitched.’

‘They accept me as their reeve of their own free will.’

‘Aye, that’s your story.’ Henry paused for a moment, eyes shifting as if he were weighing up his options. ‘Very well. If you say the Sikh’s a friend I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t come here to argue, in any case. I need to speak to you. In private.’

Jack stood a little straighter. This was a surprise. ‘What about?’

‘It’s a delicate matter.’ Henry rubbed his mouth. ‘I need your help with something.’

Jack couldn’t help grinning at the thought of Henry needing his help. He turned to the small gathering and nodded to dismiss them. Godwin and Elizabeth stayed behind until he waved them off.

‘Over here.’ Jack gestured to the row of willows beside the brook. There was less chance of them being overheard there.

They walked down the slight incline and reached the bank of the stream. Henry stared at the water for a moment, then squinted at the sky. It was a clear day but a chill hung in the air.

‘What’s all this about?’ Jack asked.

Henry gave a deep sigh. ‘Wish I knew myself, to be honest. Sir Alfred asked me to come. We’ve been getting some strange reports out of Scotland.’

‘Scotland?’

‘Yes. We have spies, informers, you know. The Crusader Council has to keep an eye on what the Rajthanans are up to.’

‘That’s wise enough.’

‘Aye, well, some of these spies say the Rajthanans are getting worked up over something in Scotland. There’s a Rajthanan sorcerer called Mahajan who’s set up some sort of kingdom in the wilds. From what we hear, he’s broken away from the Rajthanans – become a sort of Scottish chief, they say.’

‘A strange thought.’

‘Indeed.’

‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘Well, this is the thing, from what we can gather, the Rajthanans believe this Mahajan is working on some sort of powerful black magic. He’s hidden away in a place where no one goes, you see, and he’s up to something. The Rajthanans are worried about it for some reason.’

‘Any idea what this magic is?’

‘No one knows for sure. Some think it’s a weapon of some kind. We’ve heard tales of demons rising up from hell and all sorts.’

‘Sounds a little hard to believe.’

Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you of all people would believe it.’

Jack smiled. ‘Because I study yoga?’

Henry grunted and kicked a stone into the water. ‘You call it what you like.’

Jack stared past the brook and up the slope of the forest-shrouded hill. The greenery was dusted with red and yellow leaves. On the bare summit, an old stone cross watched the valley like a sentinel. ‘It’s not like you think. Yoga’s not about demons.’

‘If you say so. You know more about it than anyone else around here.’

‘What is it you want from me? I can’t tell you anything about this Mahajan. I’ve never heard of him.’

‘No, it’s not that. You see . . .’ Henry tightened his lips and tapped his boot against a tree root. ‘There are some on the Council who wonder about the Grail. Some stories say the Grail was found in the north.’

Jack snorted. ‘The Grail’s just a legend.’

Henry scowled. ‘That’s not what the Church says. The Grail came to us in the past to free our lands from enchantment. If we can find it now, then we can use it to throw the heathens out of England.’

Jack shook his head. ‘They were saying that in London too, you know. Before the Rajthanans took the city.’

Henry looked at Jack, narrowing his eyes. ‘You call yourself an Englishman, but you forsake all our customs. What are you really? An Indian? A half-caste?’

Jack tensed and felt his face flush. ‘I’m an Englishman just as much as you.’

‘So you keep saying.’

Jack took a deep breath and calmed himself. There was no point getting into a fight over this. ‘What is it you want?’

Henry scratched his beard. ‘There are some on the Council who wonder if Mahajan hasn’t found the Grail. If we go to Mahajan’s kingdom, perhaps we could get it for ourselves.’

‘I see.’

‘If we don’t try, there’s a risk the Rajthanans could lay their hands on it instead.’

‘I thought only the pure of heart could ever touch the Grail. That’s what the stories say, isn’t it?’

Henry muttered something, then said, ‘I don’t pretend to know about these matters. I’m a fighting man, not a sorcerer. All I know is that if this Mahajan has the Grail, we need to get it from him. It’s our only hope to save our lands and free King John. The Rajthanans are strong, far stronger than us. You know that. But with the Grail, we could win.’

A cold wind ruffled Jack’s hair and tugged at his ponytail. The trees on the hillside swayed. ‘I still don’t see what I have to do with all of this.’

Henry hawked and spat at the ground. ‘The Rajthanans are planning an expedition into Scotland to find Mahajan’s kingdom. You see, they’re taking this matter seriously. We’ve decided to send a small party to infiltrate the expedition. The Rajthanans will need guides and porters and cooks. If we can get some men in there, then, when they get to Mahajan’s lands, hopefully they can take the Grail – or find out what Mahajan is up to, at any rate.’

‘How many men are you sending?’

‘We can only spare a few. Ten or so.’

‘How big is the Rajthanan party?’

‘We don’t know that yet. The Rajthanans are still planning themselves. Some say a few hundred soldiers might be sent.’

‘Ten against a few hundred. Not good odds.’

‘The plan isn’t to fight the Rajthanans. We’ll travel with them, that’s all. Scotland’s too wild for us to send a small party. We’ll find safety in numbers. When we get to Mahajan’s kingdom . . . then our men will have to do their best.’

‘Sounds risky. You expecting any of those men to come back?’

‘Our whole life here in Shropshire is risky. Vadula’s army could come at any time. You heard about Wiltshire?’

Jack nodded. Everyone had heard the Rajthanans had taken the rebel enclave and stories of massacres were circulating. He felt a chill as he remembered the Siege of London and the many men who’d died there.

Henry paused for a moment, then said, ‘So, how about it, then?’

BOOK: The Place of Dead Kings
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