The Serpent's Shadow

And they quickly found, as they looked for a second cab—their remarkable first driver and his fantastic horse having been hired by Almsley for the day, with immense forethought on Almsley's part—-that the animals were not going to be left behind either.

All but Rajah the peacock, that is; he placed himself at O'Reilly's side, somewhat to the bemusement of the doctor, and would not stir. But Charan and Rhadi could not be separated from Peter, Sia and Singhe fastened themselves to Norrey, and Mala and Nisha set up such a clamor of falcon screams and hoots that it was clear they were going along with someone. So once their redoubtable cabby had summoned another of his brotherhood, Norrey and Peter crammed themselves into the first cab, and Gupta and Almsley into the second—Almsley bearing Mala on a leather driving glove like a knight of old, and Gupta with Nisha on the improvised protection of multiple layers of rags wrapped over his left arm and wrist, held in place by an additional wrapping of harness leather.

By now it was dark; none of them had eaten, so Gupta made them all wait long enough to drink a concoction of eggs, cream, and sweet sherry to sustain them. Only then did they take to their chariots for another wild ride through the streets of London.

The langur and the parrot were silent—unnaturally so—during the careening drive. Charan gave little more than a chitter or a grunt of protest when he was squeezed by one of the cab's more violent movements, Rhadi uttered no sounds at all from his perch on Peter's shoulder. The streets were a little clearer—most people were at their suppers—and the horse pounded almost unimpeded into the depths of the East End.

'I want to stop a block or so away from this place!' Peter shouted into Norrey's ear over the thunder of hooves and the rattle of wheels on the pavement, the creaks and groans of the cab as it shuddered with every bump and lurch. 'I don't want to alert them—'

'Already thunk o' that, guv!' Norrey shouted back. 'An' Oi got some mates waitin', too!'

No sooner had she said that, than they pulled up at the mouth of a dark and noisome little street—more of an alley—and once they were all out of the cabs, Norrey led them down it at a trot, one mongoose on her shoulder, the other cradled in her arms.

This was all happening much too fast for proper thought, much less planning. Part of Peter wanted to bring everything to a complete halt, to return to the house and map things out properly, but the rest of him screamed in growing panic that it wasn't going fast enough, that they had to hurry, hurry, hurryl If it hadn't been that the animals were so supremely calm and confident at this point, Peter would never have ventured down this street at all, for he'd have been certain Norrey was going to betray them—

Especially when a scurvy lot of ne'er-do-wells materialized around them as Norrey stopped halfway down, just outside a little hole in the wall that might be what passed for a pub in these parts. Certainly there was some sort of light passing through the greasy, cracked windowpanes, and the sound of shrieks and laughter coming from inside.

'These are m' mates,' Norrey said, gesturing with her free hand to the dozen or so cutthroats and footpads around her. 'These are the blokes for Miss Maya, lads.'

'Don't unnerstan' more'n 'alf whut Norrey sez,' spoke up the tallest and nastiest-looking of the lot. 'But she 'ad th' White Cough, an' she ain't got it naow, so—' He shrugged. 'Reckon Miss Maya fixed 'er, an' since there ain't no cure, 'adda bin—magic, I guess. So I guess there cood be magic as 'as 'urt 'er.'

Peter was at a loss, but Almsley wasn't. 'We've got work for you, whether you believe in magic or not— and if we don't get to these people and stop what they're doing, Doctor Maya will die,' he said, stepping forward, with Mala mantling on his wrist.

Norrey hissed at the leader and tugged at his sleeve; he made as if to cuff her, until one of the mongooses ran up on her shoulder and showed its teeth at him. He laughed uneasily, then turned back to Almsley. 'Aye, some on us owes Miss Maya—but some on us don't,' he replied aggressively. 'So whut's in it fer all on us?'

Almsley leaned forward, his eyes glittering in the dim light from the single street lamp at the corner and the fitful illumination from the pub. 'I'll not spin you any Banbury tales,' he said, 'but think about this. Those people must have bought that building they're in—a whole building—or they couldn't be doing what they are without a landlord nosing around! Where did that money come from? They don't work and don't steal—but they have to eat, so where's their living coming from? There's more money in that place; there has to be.'

'Eh,' the leader replied thoughtfully, stroking the sparse whiskers on his scruffy young chin.

'Hindu women have all their wealth in gold jewelry,' Peter spoke up suddenly, out of his own memory. 'Oh, surely you've seen that, seen one or two of them walking around! Well, the woman who bosses all of those men is from a high-caste family—and she's a powerfully important person in her own right, too! Doctor Maya came to England with all her people, bought her house, rebuilt it, and started her surgery with what she got from her own jewelry, and she wasn't nearly so high-caste or important. What do you think that woman's fortune looks like?'

'Ah!' said the leader, as some inarticulate mumbles from the rest of the group indicated their growing interest.

'And besides all that, there's a temple in there somewhere,' Almsley concluded triumphantly. 'You know what's in temples!'