The Serpent's Shadow

But he didn't dare; he couldn't face the possibility that she might say no. So he simply smiled back into her eyes, promised that he would not skip so much as a single evening, and turned the conversation to something else, he didn't even recall what, later.

And later, on his way home, he cursed himself for a fool and a coward, and vowed that the next time the opportunity showed itself, he would seize it, and let come what may.

'Mem sahib,' Gupta said, in a tone of great seriousness, as he set Maya's breakfast before her the next morning, 'Sahib Scott has spoken with me, yesterday.'

She looked up, a bit startled at both the words and the tone, and wondered, for one wild moment, Spoken about what? Had he a complaint? Did he disapprove of the way that Maya made these faithful friends more than servants and more like family? Surely not—he seemed to approve very much of just that—

Good heavens, he didn't ask Gupta for my hand, did he? He had come close to declaring his feelings last night—he was so cursed reserved! There was no mistaking the way he looked at her, the reasons he concocted to be in her presence. Oh, the English, the English, why were they so frightened of their feelings?

'Sahib Scott told me about the deaths of other English sahibs,' Gupta continued somberly, 'And how the one who brought you distress has also vanished. It is your enemy's work, mem sahib. It is the work of Shivani, sister of your mother.'

She felt keenly disappointed. Only that? The threat of Shivani seemed a distant thing, compared to the intensity of her affection for Peter Scott. 'Is it? I suppose it must be—' Her attention sharpened again. Peter would not have approached Gupta unless he was worried. 'There is reason to be concerned?'

'While you are within these walls, we think not,' Gupta replied, wrinkling his brow. 'But once you are without—yes, there is danger. His people will not help; he has asked, and they will not, other than a friend or so.'

Maya fancied she knew who that 'friend' was, and in spite of Gupta's worried expression, she smiled a little. It was no bad thing to have Lord Peter Almsley on your side. Still, if Gupta and Peter were both worried, it didn't bode well.

'I will be careful,' she promised. 'I won't go anywhere other than the hospital or the clinic alone, and I'll make a point of renewing and strengthening the house defenses every night. And I pledge you, I won't go anywhere after dark.' She paused for a moment, then added, 'I do not think that Shivani will be able to pass the protections I have put on the house, even in person, but I believe that I can make certain of that.'

Because I believe, if I petition him, Charan will speak for Hanuman and the others, and they will help me in this. She had done some long thinking on the subject, and it seemed to her that she had a basic grasp of what was possible and what was not. The others would not wage a direct conflict with Kali Durga; gods evidently no longer warred with gods, no matter what was in the legends and sacred texts. But they would help her with passive defenses.

That would have to be enough.

'I think that is all we can do,' Gupta admitted. 'Perhaps she will give up—'

'And if she does not—we will leave,' Maya said firmly. 'We will go to America, and live among the Red Indians if need be. Surely she will not follow us where she is in danger of being scalped.'

Gupta smiled weakly at that. 'You will be wise, I know,' he replied, and stood up. 'And you have your duties. What would our lives be worth, if we allowed fear to keep us pinned within our own dwelling?'

Gupta's words were on Maya's mind as she finished her breakfast, and the more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

What have I ever done to this woman that I deserve to be so persecuted? she thought hotly, stabbing at her eggs with her fork. What have I done to anyone? Father and I treated hundreds of my people without ever asking to be paid— and if I had ever done anything to offend any priest or temple, why is it that I have the help of seven gods? What is wrong with me, that this is happening?

She lost her appetite, poked at the cooling remains of breakfast for a moment, then gave up. I have done nothing, she decided. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with her. And I doubt that after all this time anything is going to make a difference in what she thinks. She took up her tea and drank it down, forcing it past the angry knot in her throat. She felt curiously adrift as well as angry; she didn't even know what this woman looked like! She wanted to hate her, but how did one hate someone who was faceless?

Oh, to the devil with it, and with her! she decided, all but slamming her cup down on the saucer—in fact, she 'put it down' so hard that it cracked. Curse it all!