by Gary Gygax
"He merely complained about that?"
Rachelle smiled knowingly. "No. I used my wiles, wondered how such a clever and brave fellow could allow mere brigands to thwart him. 'Ha!* he bragged at that, 'I employ mercenaries to check the rebels, use thags to keep the stinking commoners in their place. Soon now too, when there is a change in theological direction, a force of hillmen more savage than the rebels' own will be available to me. Then we will have their miserable heads!' What did he mean by thags?"
"Thugs, of course. Never mind that for the moment. You say he bragged about assistance from 'savage hillmen'?" She nodded. That caused the magister to stroke his shaven head several times as he thought.
"That was very good, my dear. You are absolutely indispensable to me! But there is one other matter. Did the general appear unconcerned about the leader of the insurgents?"
It was Rachelle's turn to ponder for a minute. "Serpents, Setne, I don't know!" she said finally. "Ratha simply passed over the matter of the rebels being led by a purported brother of Sivadji Guldir with a derisive laugh. He never dwelled on it, so I'd have to say that he dismissed the possibility." Then her face lit up as she recalled something, growing suddenly grim as she brought it to mind.
"What is it, Rachelle? Have you remembered something critical?"
"Ugly, Setne. Perhaps it is critical. I don't know. It is something that General Ratha said before I led him into accounting the current difficulties with the rebels."
"Go on, please."
She cleared her throat as If she wanted to spit from the bad taste of what she was going to say. "I had commented on the maharajah's evident desire to be surrounded with concubines at all times, inquired about wives and harem ..."
"And?"
"After hearing the Sivadji Guldir had not married but contented himself with some hundreds of concubines and slaves, I asked the logical question: 'What will he do for an heir?' Then the general gave a laugh of wicked sort. Heir? He has any infant born in the harem taken and killed, just as he executed all of his siblings to become monarch of this land! Our maharajah has no worries about living long, maybe forever, save being cut down by an assassin. When none can claim the Peacock Throne by blood, there is no threat, you see.' That is as close as I can come to his exact words, Setne. The maharajah is a monster! No wonder he has hired a witch as his court practitioner," Rachelle concluded as the realization struck home in her mind.
"Quite possibly," Inhetep said as he put his arm around her shoulders in support and comfort. "That is the sort of thing we have vowed to face, though, dear girl; the purpose of what we undertake is just what we are finding here. Brace up. I have suspected much of this since before we actually arrived in the capital and were confronted with 'His Resplendence' for the first time." Rachelle hugged him back, took a deep breath, and was herself again. "Good! You must be clear and keen of mind, you see. You'll need to be at your best tomorrow."
The amazon looked at him inquiringly. "Why so? Do we—"
"No. You. I agree to your suggestion, Rachelle. Tomorrow, when I am spending some time following a clue which directs me to the thieves' quarter of the city, and thus able to wander the streets of Delhi on my own, you will call upon the Pirimah Lady Sujata as you urged. You will ask her whatever questions you wish, make notes, then be beguiled by her wondrous charm and personality. When the 'formal' inquiry is concluded, your real work will begin, of course!"
"Of course, Setne. I know all about managing that sort of thing. After all, I've had enough experience gallivanting all over the globe keeping you safe. There is one thing, though."
Inhetep's brows shot up. "One? What is that, my dear?"
"What do I tell the 'lady' when she asks what you found out about the 'all-seeing eye' you discovered peering at you before her boudoir
door?"
"Bah!" was the only response she could elicit on that score, as the magister stalked off to wash before retiring.
— 11 ——
SOCIALIZING WITH A WITCH
Before he left on his own investigation, the magister spoke to Chancellor Gorvan about the matter. Naturally, the man was uncertain but had no choice but to agree, cautioning that the maharajah would stand for no delays. Ignoring the veiled threat, Inhetep pushed on. "The Sahibah Rachelle, Chancellor, will remain here in the palace to pursue our investigations. In that regard, you will inform the Pirimah Lady Sujata that I urgently beg she give her attention to my associate. Please convey my regrets at being unable to see to this personally. Do tell the Lady Sujata that I look forward to seeing her later today, of course. In the meantime, the Sahibah Rachelle is going to gather information which I need to solve the crime. She is competent, having had some fair exposure to the work in the past. It saves my valuable talents for more pressing concerns."
Gorvan could understand the latter well
enough. "As you wish, Sahib Magister. I will Impart your request to the Lady Court Practitioner just as you voiced it to me. How many men will you need for your foray into the city?"
"Why, none at all," the wizard-priest said with airy authority as he walked away from the startled fellow.
The chancellor went hastily about taking care of things immediately after Inhetep departed. Gorvan was most circumspect when it came to relaying the magister's message to Sujata. Deep in his heart, the chancellor feared the woman greatly.
"Do make yourself comfortable, sahibah," the pirimah said sweetly as one of her slaves brought Rachelle into her salon a little after mid-morning. Sujata remained seated at her dressing table, finishing the last touches of her toilet— kohl and perfume. She didn't turn around as she spoke.
Rachelle could see the woman in the mirror. Well preserved for one so old, she thought sourly, then relented a little. Lady Sujata looked exquisite in the bright morning light, appearing to be no more than thirty, her skin and body younger still. It was the heavily kohl-rimmed eyes which betrayed her as being past the first bloom of youth. Just then, the woman's eyes caught hers in the mirror. "Please call me Rachelle, Pirimah," she said easily, allowing her eyes to rove on as if she were merely taking in the well-furnished, feminine room which belonged to the chief heka-user of the court.
"And you, Rachelle, may call me Lady Sujata," the woman said with a friendly firmness belied by the words. "I understand your master has sent you here to ask me some questions. I will be available in just a few moments, child." With that the pirimah returned to her primping.
This treatment came as no surprise to the amazon, of course. The assumption of superior-inferior roles, the belittling of her status with the magister, even the lack of courtesy displayed in not offering refreshment were natural. Sujata was a female, after all, Witch or no, a woman who found Setne attractive and intended to do something about it would behave thus. Should she go beyond the mild flirtation stage, the pirimah would become even more slyly aggressive. Rachelle usually chose different means of expressing herself, getting her way. She was well able to understand Lady Sujata's methods, for Rachelle was herself an expert. She knew how to use indirect approach, insinuation, position, influence. Rachelle could use her intelligence to play on sympathies, use her femininity and beauty, and it was now easier to do so. Her opponent allowed her own conceit to cloud her judgment. Armor and sword hid a strong mind and keen wit from the witch's eyes.
"You are most kind, Lady Sujata. I do hate to bother you. I know that being the head of the maharajah's magickal affairs is demanding, that you have so many important things to attend to. Please do not huriy because I am here. I am content to wait, see how it is that you bring out your natural beauty as you do." When the woman seemed surprised at her statement, Rachelle purposely made it seem she misunderstood. "Oh! I have offended you. I didn't mean to imply I was staring as you put on your makeup, Lady Sujata. It's just that in my role as a swordswoman I am not treated to the secrets of such feminine things."
The pirimah warmed a little, turned. "Poor thing, I hadn't thought of that. Hard armor and clumsy weapo
ns are the poor tools of men, and yet you must rely on such. Yet you seem pretty enough even without those touches which make beauty what it is. Yes . . . with my direction we could make you over into one not even the maharajah himself could keep from lusting after beyond all else," Lady Sujata said with a speculative air as she gazed at Rachelle as she might inspect a fat calf brought for slaughter.
Resisting the urge to strike the woman, nauseated at the thought of the toad-like monarch pawing her, Rachelle shook her head and said, "No, Lady Sujata. I would never want to be beautiful for any man's pleasure—to be a plaything is abhorrent to me. Perhaps being a war-rioress is better. That way I am equal to men."
"Aaah, ha, ha, ha!" the woman laughed in something between pity and derision. "What a novel idea. To be equal to men!"
"You may laugh, lady," Rachelle said, allowing a hint of envy and irritation to seep into her voice. "You are high in the council of a king! Why, you must be the third or fourth most powerful person in Delhi—and a woman!"
The woman tossed aside her cosmetics, stood erect, and advanced on Rachelle as if she were a tiger about to seize its prey. "Third or fourth? You are a stupid little thing. I am the one who directs every action of that fat fool—" Lady Sujata bit off her words. She stared at the ama-zon, her eyes bright and hard, as if trying to read Rachelle with some malign power. There was no response from the young woman, though. Rachelle looked up with incomprehension, nervously returning the witch's gaze. She betrayed no sign. Her aura was straightforward, her thoughts were of personal success, domination. "Either you are a sister or a clever foe—which is it, Rachelle?"
"I ... I don't understand, Lady Sujata. I am here only to ask you for details which Magister Inhetep has dictated. I am certainly no enemy of yours how could I be?"
"Umm. Perhaps, perhaps. We will let that be for now. It is time for my breakfast. You will ask your questions while I eat. Come with me " Without waiting to see if Rachelle complied with her order, the pirimah walked purposefully through an archway which led to a shaded veranda. There a table and chairs stood, the former spread with a white cloth and covered with silver dishes.
Rachelle seated herself across from the woman after Lady Sujata had allowed a servant to attend to her at her own place. When the pirimah had taken a little crystal container of fruit juice from where it had lain half-buried in ice in the heart of a covered dish, and sipped, Rachelle took a deep breath and began.
"Who is the most ardent foe of the maharajah?"
Sujata opened her mouth, then shut it quickly. After a few seconds, she took up a little piece of some exotic Hindic fruit and daintily ate it. "Why do you ask that?"
"The magister needs to compile a complete list of suspects."
"You don't have anything with which to write down what I tell you."
"I have a very good memory, lady. I seldom need such an aid."
The woman smiled. "Good." Her look was distant, as if she were considering another topic entirely, however. Then the pirimah's eyes were aimed at her questioner. "His Resplendence has only one meaningful opposer here in
Delhi—and that includes the kingdom, you understand?" Rachelle said she did. "Do you know about the rebels?"
Turning tables was a device which Rachelle could avoid without seeming to. "Only what the blustering general told me. Nothing substantial. Is it among those outlaws that the chief enemy of the maharajah is to be found?"
"Yes. I don't suppose Ratha mentioned his claims, gave you his name. ..."
"He told me only that the man pretended to be of royal lineage. Please tell rne his name— pretend and actual." The pirimah admitted that the leader of the insurgents was known to them only as "Rama-dharma, the duty of Rama." At hearing that, Rachelle said, "Wasn't Rama a great hero of antiquity who became a deity through his nobility and strength of purpose?"
"A cursed dog," the woman said vehemently, no trace of fear showing at giving such offense to a deity.
"You mean the rebel, of course."
"Don't speak for me. I mean both! If I knew the pretender's actual name, though, little one, he would be no threat to the throne. Get on with your questions."
With her uncertainties well hidden, the amazon did as she had been told. "There is but one foe, the rebel calling himself Rama-dharma. There are no others. But what about palace intrigues—are there none who would see the maharajah discomfited by the loss so as to gain
thereby?"
"What would be the gain? All in positions of power here stand or fall by the fate of Guldir— the maharajah—at least for some time. Nobody here has the brains to range into the distant future. Not the general, nor that weakling Gorvan. All the others are petty, without hope of anything beyond retaining their current, undeserved, rank. Besides, to have done what was done dangerously weakens not only the maharajah but all who serve him."
That made her sit up mentally, but again Rachelle hid her intense interest in what she had heard. "The loss is humiliation if news of it should be broadcast. Lady Sujata, but surely the lack of even such precious ornaments as the crown jewels inflicts no important loss of power."
"You are ignorant. The regalia has more than symbolic significance."
Without adding to that, the pirimah turned her attention to the food, nibbling a little of this and that. Rachelle went over what she had been told for the woman's benefit. "There is only the bandit chief to look to then, and his motive in robbing the maharajah of the crown jewels was to hinder his plans by depriving the throne of the powers the regalia bestowed upon him."
Lady Sujata's eyes widened, and she looked at the amazon with a glimmer of new respect. "No. I didn't say that. It might be accurate in part, but it is inaccurate in general. Your magister will have to discover if some unsuspected villain who lurks in hiding perpetrated the crime. As to the motive, that is information unnecessary to the recovery of the lost jewels. After all, why else would I have recommended that the maharajah employ him? With his heka power and experience at this sort of thing, he should be able, must, get to the bottom of things before the dark of the moon. It is essential that the crown jewels be returned by that time."
Rachelle let out a little gasp. "Two days' time?"
"That is all. Can he do it?"
"The magister Is unequaled in his field. There are few suspects, possibly but a single one, and the lost items are potently charged with heka. If anyone can find them, Inhetep will."
The woman smiled thinly. "Good. He had better, for his sake and probably yours, too. But let us not dwell on unpleasantries. Tell me, do you wish your Magister Inhetep to marry you?"
"The wealth and position would be fine, but he is too hard to control." Rachelle lowered her tone as she confided, "If I had my choice, I would rather be married to someone more powerful than he, perhaps a vizier, one old and tractable."
Lady Sujata watched the amazon as she spoke. Her eyes were knowing. "Not a bad aspiration—for a woman of average abilities. Too uncertain, too many other women competing. You are educated?"
Even though it was more statement than question, Rachelle responded at some length. "Yes. It is usual for the middle and upper classes of /Egypt to be given some degree of education. For many years I was schooled. During that time, I was trained as a priestess of the goddess Neith."
"Were you, now? I thought we had some affinity. ... I am not acquainted with the pantheon of your land. What concerns your Neith? What teachings are ascribed to her?"
"Warfare is her forte, lady. She favors the bow, the hunt."
"I see. You are a huntress too, and ply a bow, 111 wager."
Rachelle's face showed how impressed she was. "That is so, my Lady Sujata. You are very astute."
"Astute is one way of putting it. Tell me, Rachelle, what is the true perspective of the goddess? She is not of the light, is she?" The pirimah's expression was crafty as she kept asking her questions. "You may speak freely to me, have no fear. I will repeat nothing, not even to the vaunted Magister Inhetep—rest assured you ca
n trust rne."
"Light is far from Neith's ethos. ..."
Again the woman gave her somehow sinister-sounding laugh. "I thought so. You are a vassal of gloom stuck with a foolish fellow who thinks that there can be a position which bestrides light and darkness even as he violates his own tenets. Well, I am one who can use such fools to undo their ilk! You see, Rachelle, I too serve a dark goddess, one even more bloody and potent than this Neith of yours. Serve me and I will show you how you may bend men and even states to your will, and have all you desire!"
For the space of several heartbeats Rachelle sat frozen, staring at the woman's now-hard countenance. "You are a witch," she said at last.
"Is that so? And what if I am . . . ?" There was great menace in the question.
The amazon's hand made a sign, and she bowed her head towards the Lady Sujata. "I pay you homage, mistress. I am an initiate in the Black Craeft, but I have feared to take the last step."
"You show your wisdom by such hesitation. You must have a plan, know exactly what you desire to accomplish, before you commit. Now listen to me. I want you to act as my agent. You must learn exactly what your magister is doing. If you can, find out who has the jewels, where they are hidden. Tell me everything you learn. When the regalia of state is returned, I will rule Delhi through that toad who squats on the Peacock Throne. Then, in due course, as the maharani. If you have served me well, I will make you my lieutenant here, or else send you back to /Egypt if you so desire, to become great there."
"I can manage the carrying of information, Pirimah, but how can I accomplish the rest? I have no powers such as yours."
"But you will, for if you fulfill the task I have laid upon you, I will call up such a demon as you cannot imagine, one whose strength is unmatched. To him you will bend your knee, make your blood pact, and then you will wield the might needed to gain all you lust for. Men will serve you in thousands. Never will you need to be one of hundreds or dozens of women competing for a small place at the feet of some man."