Aarushi paused before the dining room door and smoothed the folds of her sari. She had taken great care dressing today, not for breakfast with her father, but later for Roshan. Teal was his favorite color, and she knew he would notice. Heat rose to her face as she thought of him. She took a calming breath and stepped inside.
Today was her birthday. Sweet and spicy aromas greeted her, confirming that her father had instructed the staff to prepare her favorite breakfast dishes-mango and papaya relish, scrambled eggs with curry and onions, and hot baked naan.
Aarushi approached the table, expecting the usual birthday kiss on the cheek, another engraved gold bangle, and an order for several new outfits from the seamstress. Her father never forgot her birthday, but he had no imagination when it came to celebrating. Once his family obligations were fulfilled, he would return to his business, leaving her to do as she wished for the remainder of the day.
That was fine with Aarushi because she wanted to find Roshan. That long-ago afternoon on the hilltop, everything had seemed so simple. How would she explain to her father that, for the past year, she had secretly spent her days in the company of his chief engineer? How would they explain that they wished to marry?
She still remembered the day Roshan arrived perched high atop a mechanical hatti, steam puffing from its bronze trunk. With his golden skin, ebony hair, and dark eyes, he looked like a young rajah poised to conquer.
But her father had greeted him with a frown. He had expected the university to recommend a seasoned engineer to replace the retiring Maahir, not an untried youth. But when the Maahir reviewed Roshan’s credentials and inspected the schematics of his amazing elephanton, he told her father he would not find a more suitable replacement.
“Aarushi, do you notice anything different?” her father asked, folding his napkin.
Roused from her reverie, she cast her gaze around the room. Nothing seemed changed. The same rich gold and maroon tapestries hung from the walls. Chests of carved rosewood flanked the diwan piled with overstuffed pillows. Her father’s intricately carved ivory chess set sat on a table awaiting the next move.
Puzzled, she turned to face him. Then she saw it. Two silver grooves ran around the circumference of the polished teak table, mother of pearl strips inlaid evenly between them. The design reminded her of a railroad track. Before she could speak, her father smiled and pulled a lever.
The soft whirr of gears drew her attention to the wall. A panel slid open and a mechanized bridge extended out to the table. With a hiss and a whistle, a miniature silver steam engine puffed out of the opening, crossed the bridge and traveled across the inlaid tracks.
The train pulled to a stop in front of her, its sparkling engine awaiting her inspection. Intricate floral and bird designs decorated its sides. It pulled a matching coal tender, tank car, and flatbed behind it. Opening the tender, she found it filled with loose tea. A small shovel hung on a hook, no doubt to scoop the leaves into her cup. Turning a spigot on the tank car filled her cup with hot water and she breathed in the delicate aroma. Curious, Aarushi lifted a silver elephant from the flatbed. Cream poured from its trunk as she tipped it. A small barrel on the flatbed contained sugar.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful.” She marveled at every detail. The train seemed almost magical. Only one person could have designed it, blending beauty and function so perfectly.
“I must admit I had my doubts when Roshan came to me with the sketches. I thought a young girl would prefer jewelry or clothes. But I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this excited over one of my presents.”
“Oh Father, I love it.” Aarushi jumped up and threw her arms around him.
He cleared his throat, embarrassed by the emotional outburst. “Good, that’s settled then. I will have the table and workings packed and ready to take with you.”
Aarushi was busy dreaming of how she would thank Roshan when the words registered. “Packed? What do you mean? Surely you are not sending me away to school again.”
“No, no. Of course not. You’re seventeen. It’s time you were married.”
“Married?” Butterflies danced in her stomach. Roshan had hinted at a surprise for her birthday. Could he have spoken to her father already?
“I have arranged a wonderful match for you with Antonio Ruiz, the son of the largest coffee baron in South America. He’s already en route on one of the cartel’s airships. I expect him any day now. He wanted to be here for your birthday, but was delayed by storms over the Atlantic.”
Aarushi staggered, clutching the back of her chair to keep from falling.
“Now, now.” Her father rose and patted her hand, mistaking the response. “There’s nothing to worry about. Your bridegroom will arrive safely. Airships make the crossing all the time. Finish your breakfast. We will discuss it later. Right now, I have business correspondence to attend to. I’m finalizing the merger that will create The Great East/West Caffeine Corporation.”
He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Aarushi’s breakfast sat untouched. She sank down in her chair and ran a finger over the fluted smokestack of the tea train. Roshan created this for me. She pictured him at his workbench, his strong yet gentle hands. When he learned of her father’s plans, would he think she’d betrayed him?
Her touch triggered a catch cunningly hidden amid the engravings. A panel popped open. Tucked inside was one of Roshan’s “magic” crystals. He always laughed when she called them magic, but they were. The crystals heated water without burning wood or coal, providing the steam needed to power his machines.
She plucked it out and smiled. Instead of a plain crystal, Roshan had charged a heart-shaped ruby. The brilliant engineer with the soul of a poet had captured her heart, as easily as the facets of his crystals captured the energy of the sun. The stone was surprisingly cool on her palm. It needed contact with metal to release the energy trapped within. She pressed it to her lips and knotted it safely in a fold of her sari.
Restless, Aarushi opened the latticework doors and stepped into the garden. The breeze carried the scent of jasmine. A startled peacock squawked and shook its tail at her. Tame parakeets scolded from the tree branches, demanding the breakfast fruits and crumbs she normally shared with them. Her father never came out here; it had been her mother’s sanctuary. If only she could speak to her mother now, but she had died when Aarushi was three years old, the victim of a British airship attack.
The Caffeine Wars had been long and bloody. Indian partisans had thrown out British colonialists to gain control of the tea trade. In the years that followed, the world’s addiction to caffeine brought prosperity to her father. But a new kind of war was beginning—a business war as South American coffee growers maneuvered to take their share of the market. Her father was using her as a bargaining chip—a victim, like her mother, in the struggle to control the caffeine market.
Aarushi shivered. A cold shadow seemed to pass over her. She scanned the sky. For a moment, she thought an airship floated over the eastern horizon. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, but the sun blinded her. She must have imagined it. The ship carrying her betrothed would be coming from the west, not the east.
“Mistress.” A young boy bowed before her. She recognized him as Roshan’s apprentice.
“Yes, Nadir, what is it?”
He glanced around furtively.
Impatient, she snapped. “No one is here. Do you have a message for me?”
He lowered his eyes. “A pigeon arrived last night from the garden watchman. The chowkidir’s message reported trouble in the southeastern fields. My master went to check on it, but has not returned.”
“What did the message say?”
“The master did not share the message with one so unworthy as myself.” He bowed even lower. “But he expected to be back. He requested an early breakfast for the morning. He said he did not want to miss any of,” the boy hesitated. “pardon mistress. ‘Shi-shi’s birthday.’”
&nbs
p; Aarushi blushed at the use of her pet name. But the boy had the good sense to keep his gaze lowered, and she recovered her composure.
“Have you brought word of this to my father?”
“No, mistress. I was not allowed to speak with your father.”
“I will tell him. Go back to your master’s quarters and await his return.”
“As you wish, mistress.” The boy bowed and backed out of the garden.
Aarushi knocked on the door of her father’s study.
“Come.” He glanced up from his desk. “Ah, daughter, I just sent for you. The airship approaches. Young Ruiz pushed his ship to the limit and will be here for your birthday after all. No storm can keep a brave man from his intended.”
“I thought I glimpsed a ship in the east earlier.” Had it been the southeast? A knot of fear gripped her stomach. Could the trouble Roshan was investigating be an airship?
“The east? Nonsense, girl. You have no sense of direction. Don Antonio approaches from the west.”
“As you say, Father.” She cast her eyes down. “I must have confused it with a rumor I heard about a problem in the southeastern fields. Roshan was sent for. Do you know what is wrong?”
“Trouble? I heard of no trouble. If the overseer sent for him, it must be one of his infernal mechanical harvesters acting up. Speak no word of this to Don Antonio. Nothing must make him nervous about the merger.” He put down his fountain pen and blotted the letter he had been writing.
“But father, Roshan left last night and has not yet returned. Shouldn’t you send men out to investigate?”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do the comings and goings of my chief engineer concern you?”
Aarushi lowered her head, fearing what her father would read in her eyes. She gripped the fold of her sari; her hand closed around the small heart-shaped crystal. “I am sorry, Father. It is not my place to interfere with your business.”
He stared at her, about to speak, when a servant rushed in through the doorway.
“Pardon master, you wished to be informed as soon as the airship was sighted.”
Roshan adjusted the track on the harvester again. If he could just get the alignment right. He’d spent hours working on the damaged machine and he thought he had it this time. He hand-cranked the mechanism and watched the brass cogs and gears whirr to life.
Nayan, the chowkidar, looked over his shoulder. “Is it working? Sahib Sengupta will not be pleased if it delays the harvest.”
No. Aarushi’s father would not be pleased with the machine or its designer. Roshan had gambled much on the success of his invention, hoping to prove himself a worthy suitor for Aarushi. He watched the gears mesh seamlessly for a moment, then jam as they hit the last section of track. He flung his wrench to the ground.
“I’ll have to take the harvester back to the workshop and rebuild it.” He studied the sky. It was already past midday. Aarushi’s birthday was slipping away.
“I will load it onto the hatti for you.”
Roshan packed up his tools. “Thank you, Nayan. I want to look over the ground one more time before I leave.”
Roshan bent to examine the earth closely. The harvester had been hit by something heavy and dragged several meters. Only two animals were large enough to have done such damage, but Roshan did not see any signs of either tiger or elephant. The only footprints were human.
He searched in widening circles and found a hole in the dirt. “Nayan, was this here yesterday?”
Nayan hurried over. “It may have been, but I did not notice. I was too concerned with the machine.”
“It looks as though someone put a stake in the ground here. If there were hoof prints, I’d think someone tied up a horse. Did you check the harvest?”
“You suspect tea pirates? But why would they break the harvester?”
“It doesn’t make sense. Count the tea chests in the drying building anyway and if anything is wrong send word to Sahib Sengupta and me. I’m heading back to the main house.” Roshan mounted the elephanton and slid a charged crystal into the heating chamber. At least one thing still worked properly.
Aarushi jumped as the heavy iron anchor crashed into the earth like a cannon ball, tearing the earth until it grabbed. She stood several paces behind her father and watched two deckhands scramble down rope ladders to the fore and aft of the ship. The pilot shouted orders to them from above while they pounded thick metal stakes into the ground and tied down the airship.
She had not seen an airship since the Caffeine Wars. It swayed and tugged at the mooring lines, a monster out of her earliest nightmares. She closed her eyes and the past roared in her ears. Cannons fired, her mother screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t move. Trees crashed around her as Gita dragged her away from her mother’s limp body. A scream rose in her throat. She clutched the ruby heart hidden within her sari until the point bit into her palm; the pain forced her back into the present.
With the ship secured, the tall dark man who had shouted commands from the gondola grabbed a rope and swung himself over the side. He leapt lightly to the ground, removed his goggles, and strode toward them.
In a single fluid motion, he swept a low bow. “Señor Sengupta, it is an honor to finally meet you. I am Antonio Ruiz, son of Don Pedro Ruiz, with whom you have corresponded. My revered father sends his respects; unfortunately, his health prohibited him from making the lengthy journey himself.”
As he rose, his bold gaze traveled slowly up Aarushi’s body.
She flushed. He dared insult her in her father’s presence? But her father’s back was toward her; his gaze was riveted on the airship.
Antonio raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards in an impudent grin. “Your father’s letters did not do you justice, señorita.”
Antonio leaned against one of the white wooden columns on the veranda and smoked a cigar. It was a pleasure he rarely indulged due to the highly flammable gas in his airship. The aromatic smoke put him in a complacent mood as he contemplated the plantation grounds. Soon all of this would be his—not bad for the bastard son of a British airshipman from the East End. How ironic that the features and language of his Spanish mother that had held him back in London served him so well here.
Tonight, the greedy fool Sengupta would sign the papers merging his rich tea plantation with Antonio’s fictitious coffee cartel, and a date would be set for Antonio’s marriage to the daughter. After the ceremony, a tragic accident would remove the old man and the plantation would become Antonio’s, his claim supported by both the merger documents and his rights as a husband. Lucky for him, women could not directly inherit land in India.
Antonio smiled. The girl was an unexpected bonus. An exotic jewel dropped in his lap. She must resemble her mother. He would enjoy being married to her. She had spirit. She hadn’t hid her disapproval of him. A trip in his airship would set things right. A bit of turbulence and she would be in his arms, clinging to him like all the others.
He’d been at home in the air since he ran away at the age of twelve. Small for his age, he’d become a monkey rigger on a British airship. Light and nimble, monkey riggers climbed over the metal skeletons of dirigibles, patching and repairing the gas cells. It was dangerous work. Those who didn’t fall to their deaths outgrew the job in a year or two. The end of the Caffeine Wars had left him out of a job. Bastards like him were good enough to be monkey riggers, but the Royal Air Corps had no other use for them.
The dispossessed British tea merchants had no such qualms. He rose quickly among the tea pirates. He earned enough gold smuggling black-market goods out of India through the British-controlled port of Singapore to build his own airship. Light, quick, and agile, he named her the Monkey Rigger. She handled as though she was part of him. He could make her disappear among the clouds or hide her in the glare of the sun.
The ship’s lines creaked, drawing Antonio’s attention. Across the lawn, the setting sun bathed the dirigible in a fiery aura. The Monkey Rigger
strained against its ropes like a trapped animal.
Jealous, darling? We will be off again soon. But tonight I must entertain the señorita. It should prove a most interesting dinner.
He dropped his cigar, ground it out, and strode into the house.
“Mistress, your father sent me to help you dress for this evening.”
Aarushi turned from the window where she had been watching for Roshan. The servant placed a jewel case and a rich green silk sari on her bed. She recognized the dress from her mother’s closet. She opened the case, revealing a matching emerald necklace and earrings. Green—the color of happiness and new beginnings. Wasn’t it enough that he had arranged her marriage? Did he expect her to parade in her mother’s clothes for the insolent stranger?
She flung the case on the floor. “Take these away. I will dress myself for dinner.”
The servant bowed and hurriedly backed out the door.
Aarushi paced her room like a caged tigress. Where was Roshan? One moment, she feared for his safety; the next, she felt angry. Why wasn’t he here when she needed him? She whirled at the sound of a soft footstep.
“I told you to leave me!”
“Is this how you welcome your ayah?”
Her nursemaid’s gentle voice broke Aarushi’s defenses.
She sobbed and threw herself into the ayah’s arms. “Oh, Gita. What will I do?”
“There there, child.” The old woman rocked her and stroked her hair. “This is no way to behave on your birthday.”
“But Gita, father has sold me like a prize bullock.”
“A dutiful child knows her parents are wise and accepts their decisions. Your mother and I came here as strangers, obeying her parents’ wishes.”
“Father is not concerned with me or my future. He thinks only of his business. And what of Roshan?”
“Ah, that is the real problem. You have given your heart away without your father’s permission. Perhaps you are the one at fault. Give your new suitor a chance and you may find your father is right.”
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