Abounding Might
Page 14
Dalhousie seemed to notice Daphne for the first time. “Lady Daphne,” he said, “I understand you saved this fellow’s life yesterday. Do you judge him competent?”
“Oh!” Flustered, Daphne said, “It is not as if I know—he is well, mostly, if that is what you mean—but I have never met anyone more competent than the captain, sir.”
“High praise indeed.” Dalhousie regarded both of them in turn. “You might just make things worse,” he said to Fletcher.
“Whoever this is, he’s still stirring up trouble, and that won’t stop just because my people are in hiding,” Fletcher said. “Me investigating isn’t going to make a difference in that respect.”
Dalhousie turned his attention on Daphne. “I ought to require you and Miss Hanley to return,” he said. “Phillips is a capable Speaker, and I can find a Bounder to take your place—”
“I have already proved my usefulness, Colonel,” Daphne said quickly. “Miss Hanley and I are in no danger, if that is what worries you.”
“I would prefer to continue working with Miss Hanley and Lady Daphne,” Fletcher said, as coolly as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “Of course, I will bow to your wishes.”
To her surprise, Dalhousie burst out laughing. “Just like all the other times, eh?” he said when he finally regained control of himself. “Go on. Get back to Madhyapatnam. And I want daily updates—me, personally, do you understand? I expect to hear from Miss Hanley regularly.”
“Thank you, sir,” Fletcher said formally, but with a grin that told Daphne that despite the difference in their ages, the two men were close friends. Dalhousie bowed to Daphne, who curtseyed, and she and Fletcher exited the office, once more ignoring the aide, who looked apoplectic at being bypassed.
“I did not know you were such good friends with the colonel,” Daphne ventured when they were back in the hallway.
“He is my father’s best friend, and my sponsor,” Fletcher said. “I respect him more than any man I know, save my father, of course.”
“I see.” Tentatively, she added, “Your name… Finn is Irish, is it not?”
“It’s short for Phineas. We are as English as they come—but that doesn’t disturb you, does it?”
“I merely wondered—Lord Moira is an Irish lord, and I thought perhaps you might have things in common…” Daphne could not remember where that sentence had been going, and let it die a merciful death.
“I was named for my uncle.” Fletcher steered her toward an unused room so she might have some privacy when they Bounded. She was touched at his consideration. She did not care who she conveyed, but there were those who believed it was improper for a woman Bounder to take a man as a passenger and might be willing to chastise her for it. “Back to the Residence, and then we shall make further plans.”
Daphne tried not to feel self-conscious at the feeling of his arms around her shoulders. She Bounded them back to the drawing room, which was empty, and Fletcher released her and sat on one of the sofas a little too rapidly. His face was ashen again under his tan, and he leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing as heavily as if he’d been running.
“Oh, Captain, you promised!” she exclaimed.
“I am well, I just—all right, I am not well, I can feel you looking daggers at me. It was unexpected, that is all, and I simply need to sit for a while. Join me, Lady Daphne, I cannot relax while you hover.”
Daphne took a seat adjacent to him, perched on the edge and prepared to leap forward to catch him if he fainted. Fletcher opened one eye and smiled at her. “I promise not to faint,” he said.
“You also promised not to exert yourself. You are a terrible judge of your own condition.”
“I will be more careful in future. Now, I imagine you are eager to hear what I learned at the bazaar, before the riot.”
“I am not eager, exactly, just—I am filled with great anticipation to know your information.”
“I believe that is one definition of the word ‘eager,’ Lady Daphne.”
“Very well, if you wish to discuss linguistics rather than tell me, I shall leave this room and you will have no one to tease.”
Fletcher laughed. “Thank you for putting me in my place.”
“You are welcome. Now, what did you learn?”
The laughter died away. “Nothing good,” he said. “I begin to suspect we are chasing a ghost.”
In which Daphne receives a warning from an unexpected source
ou do not mean that literally,” Daphne said.
“Of course not. But our man—or group of men, it is not clear one way or the other—our man, as I say, has left very little of himself in the actions he is fomenting. I can only surmise his existence based on the events that have taken place.”
“Because it would take an actual person to start a rumor as specific as European missionaries preaching in Madhyapatnam?”
“Precisely. And because a riot always has an inciting incident, usually one person performing an act of violence.”
“You have seen riots before, Captain?”
“Unfortunately, too many.” Fletcher’s color was returning, but he looked so grim he might as well still have been on the verge of unconsciousness. “What disturbs me is that I have been unable to discover why someone might want Madhyapatnam in turmoil. Sir Rodney is… not well-liked, exactly—that would imply a measure of comradeship that rarely exists between Hindoo and Englishman—but well-tolerated, and those working for him say they are treated fairly. So as a representative of England in India, he is an acceptable one. And the Company’s presence here has improved trade and enriched Madhyapatnam.”
“Except that at least one person does not feel this way.”
“True, and that is why I suspect whoever our enemy is has resources beyond his individual ones. I believe we are looking for one man who has power over others, to direct them to do his bidding. Starting a riot is difficult if you want to maintain any degree of control over how and where it starts. A lone man would find that nearly impossible.”
“I thought you said a riot has a single inciting incident.”
“Usually, yes, but simply smashing a stall in the bazaar, for example, is not enough. The crowd must be nudged toward a state of incipient violence, to the point that smashing the right stall will set them off. But it is irrelevant, now that the danger has passed.”
“You suppose there will be no more riots?”
“I believe I am not in a position to thwart them if they occur. If I were an Extraordinary rather than a mere Discerner, I might be able to predict one before it starts, but that is impossible for me.”
“I thought Extraordinary Discerners were incapacitated, like the king.”
“They can be, if they lack the self-mastery to distinguish between their own emotions and those of everyone around them. Not that I wish to criticize the king—there is no doubt much more to it than I’ve implied, and it took years for his talent to grow to a point that it could overwhelm him. But an Extraordinary Discerner has tremendous power, if he remains in control. Sensing threats before they materialize, easily identifying a lie, knowing who may be most easily swayed by argument or persuasion… I can imagine what it must be like, barely.”
“But you can do all those things.”
“On an individual basis, and with a touch, yes. I am an experienced interrogator for that reason.”
“Unless the other person—that is, I do not mean to bring up—you did say you could be overwhelmed.”
Fletcher laughed. “I am not so sensitive as to feel embarrassed at the least mention of my weakness, Lady Daphne. Yes, I can be overwhelmed, but it happens rarely.”
Daphne’s cheeks felt hot. “I beg your pardon, Captain, I did not mean—”
“I know. You are generous of spirit to mind so much on my behalf. It is one of the many things I admire about you.”
She had to look away from him, how warm and knowing his expression was. “I—thank you, Captain, but I am not so admirab
le as that—and pray do not take that as an invitation to reassure me, I am simply being honest. I believe most people have faults they wish they could eliminate from their characters.”
“And I believe those faults should not blind us to our virtues. Though if it would make you happier, you can tell me your faults and I will properly castigate you for them.”
She swiftly raised her head and caught him smiling at her, his eyes filled with wicked amusement, and she laughed despite herself. “Captain, you are teasing me again.”
“I enjoy seeing you smile, so I will not apologize.”
They were venturing into dangerous terrain with this conversation. Surely they were on the verge of something far more intimate than this enjoyable… flirtation, it was flirtation, how had she allowed herself to be drawn in? Her heart was pounding so hard he must surely hear it. She could not allow it to continue. “How do you know when someone is lying?” she said.
Fletcher looked momentarily confused, then the amusement faded, making him appear emotionless, and Daphne felt a pang, as if he had slapped her. “It is a matter of differences,” he said. “People who are lying have a… disparity, I suppose, between word and emotion, but it is a particular kind of disparity. It is not something I can explain to a non-Discerner.”
“I understand. There are things only another Bounder will understand about Bounding.” She had offended him, she could tell, and she longed to turn back the clock and make a different decision—but what else could she do, and remain herself? Falling in love would only ruin her plans for fame and success. “So what will you do now? What investigation will you pursue, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Fletcher said. “I will discuss it with the others, and we will make a decision. It may require some travel, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I am always happy to oblige you, Captain.”
Fletcher said nothing to that, but his lips went thin and hard as if he were restraining some powerful urge to speak. He stood, saying, “I believe I will rest a little longer. Please excuse me.”
Daphne stood watching the door after he had gone. Her heart ached with a terrible dull pain she tried to tell herself was healthy. Of course it would hurt to deny herself the pleasure of those warm, intimate smiles, but it would hurt more to be denied the adventures she had waited so long for. It was for the best. For both of them, in the long run.
She wanted to see the bazaar again, to learn whether it had been rebuilt—if that was the correct word for restoring sticks and canvas to their original shapes—but did not like to go alone, and did not want to disturb Fletcher. He clearly needed rest, even if he could barely bring himself to admit it. So she sat in the drawing room, pretending to read, until Bess came in an hour later. “I did not know I enjoyed seeing the sights of India until they were forbidden me,” she said, taking a seat next to Daphne. “Surely you are not going to simply sit still and do nothing for a week?”
“We will not have to. Captain Fletcher has persuaded Colonel Dalhousie to permit him to continue to investigate.”
“He has? Meaning that you Bounded him there this morning. Well, that is something, though it still does not answer the question of what you and I can do to contribute.”
“I am certain Captain Fletcher will think of something.”
Bess adjusted her spectacles and leaned well over to peer at Daphne’s face. “Something has troubled you.”
“It is nothing. I am simply impatient for the captain’s return. He chose to rest for a while—he is not fully well—”
“And something passed between you, I can tell. Daphne—”
“I tell you, it is nothing.” Daphne put her book down and rose, walking to the window and pushing open one of the shutters. “The colonel expects daily reports from you to him directly.”
“Do not imagine you can put me off so easily.” Bess made her way across the room to stand next to Daphne. “If he—”
“Memsahib?” One of the servants Daphne recognized as a sort of porter—she did not know the actual name for his position—knocked diffidently on the door frame. “Memsahib, is visitor.”
Daphne and Bess exchanged glances. “Do you mean me?” Daphne said, pointing at herself.
The man nodded. “Is visitor outside,” he added, bowing and gesturing down the hall.
“How odd,” Daphne said.
“I will come with you,” Bess said. “Suppose it is our enemy, and he means you harm?”
“I hardly believe whoever it is would strike so directly at me.” But Daphne was not as sure of that as she sounded. She was glad for Bess’s companionship as they followed the servant to the grand front door. Daphne had never yet used it, having mostly Bounded in and out of the Residence and exiting through its side door. Its dark wood was carved with fanciful images, presumably Hindoo in origin, and it made Daphne curious about who had built the Residence. The building itself was so very English, but with touches that made it clear it was built for the Indian climate—not at all like Government House, which looked like a European palace with no concessions to the tropical heat.
Two people waited in the courtyard, which was shaded by low-spreading coralwood trees. Daphne recognized one of them instantly: it was the elderly Seer who had sold her the ivory bracelet she wore even now. The other woman was much younger, possibly even younger than Daphne, her hair long and braided down her back. Both wore very plain robes of brown Indian cotton and no shoes, but were adorned with elaborate brass necklaces and earrings. The younger woman wore a delicate ring in her nose; Daphne wondered how that might feel, or what she did when she sneezed.
Upon seeing Daphne, the old woman’s face creased in a broad smile. She stepped forward and took Daphne’s hands in both of hers, speaking rapidly in Hindoo. “I beg your pardon, I don’t understand,” Daphne said, reluctant to pull her hands away and offend the woman.
Bess said something to the younger woman in Persian. The woman shook her head. She looked sheepish, as if she had been dragooned into performing a service that deeply embarrassed her. She spoke to her companion—mother, grandmother? She was old enough to possibly be a great-grandmother—in tones that sounded urgent. The elderly woman stopped speaking and turned away from Daphne to say something insistent. The young woman shook her head vigorously and tried to pry her fingers off Daphne’s.
“Wait,” Daphne said. “Bess, please ask Captain Fletcher to come here.”
“I have just done so,” Bess said. “She seems most insistent. I hope she does not want the bracelet back.”
“Unlikely,” Daphne said. If her hands had been free, though, she would have pushed up her sleeve to display the bracelet. It was the only thing the two of them had in common, and why otherwise would the woman be so determined to speak with her?
“Lady Daphne,” said Fletcher from behind her, “you need a translator?”
“I may need more than that, Captain, as I cannot imagine why she wishes to speak to me.”
Fletcher came to stand beside Daphne, bowing politely to the elderly woman. He said something, cutting across her stream of words. The old woman turned her attention on him, though she did not release Daphne’s hands. The young woman said something that sounded apologetic. Fletcher bowed again and pointed at Daphne, saying something that included her name, then introduced Bess and himself. The younger woman stopped trying to back away and gestured at herself and the elderly woman.
“She says her name is Chaaya and her grandmother is Gopika,” Fletcher said. “I have invited them inside, but Chaaya refuses. Do you mind sitting on the ground?”
“Not at all,” Daphne said. She sat, rather awkwardly, finally retrieving her hands from Gopika’s grip. The minute her skirts were settled modestly about her, Gopika took her hands again, holding them far more tightly than Daphne would have guessed possible. Her hands were bony and age-spotted, but strong, and her skin was darker than her granddaughter’s. Daphne smiled and tried not to feel nervous at how intently Gopika stared at her.
“Is there something I can do for Gopika?” Daphne asked.
The question, once translated, made Chaaya squirm nervously. She responded with many pauses, as if searching for words that would not be offensive. “Gopika wishes to warn you of her Dream,” Fletcher said. “She says you are bright—it means, of a fiery spirit, one who sheds light everywhere she walks—and do not deserve destruction.”
“Destruction?” Daphne said.
Fletcher spoke a long stream of syllables aimed at Gopika. She eyed him speculatively, then Daphne, and asked a question. Fletcher shook his head in negation. Gopika released one of Daphne’s hands to shake a finger at Fletcher, saying something that had Chaaya blushing and trying to capture Gopika’s hand and stop it waving about. Gopika twisted away from her grasp.
“Captain, what is she saying?” Daphne demanded.
“She believes I am not properly respectful of you,” Fletcher said, but too rapidly, telling Daphne there was something he was not translating fully. Daphne resolved to brace him with it later.
Gopika went on, overriding her granddaughter’s attempts to break in. “Gopika says there are evil spirits afoot in Madhyapatnam,” Fletcher said, translating as she spoke. “They are trying to disrupt the city. Someone wants… the past to return?” He asked a question to which Gopika only shrugged. “I am not certain what she means by that. It sounds as if she is talking about a restoration, like making a place fertile soil for a particular kind of seed, but in context it makes no sense.”
“Does she believe we are in danger?”
“Yes,” Fletcher said when this question was relayed. “The evil spirits intend us harm because we interfere with the restoration.”
“And she wants us to leave Madhyapatnam.”
“No,” Fletcher says, “she wants us to fight. She says you, Lady Daphne, are too strong to permit the evil to overcome you, and the evil will overwhelm—no, will immerse the city like a flood. She tells everyone she speaks to, but they ignore her or are part of the evil. So she has come to you instead.”