The Serpent's Shadow

Maya somehow managed to keep her face set in a mask of serenity, while inwardly she was convulsed with delighted laughter.

Peter had arranged to meet Maya near the boat house on the Serpentine in Hyde Park; he stood up from his bench and waved to her when he saw her walking briskly toward him in the distance. She picked up her pace, hurrying as well as her skirts would allow her. She had more sense than to wear one of the fashionable hobble skirts, at least, but Peter couldn't help but wish she was costumed as she had been last night. She had looked the very spirit of freedom in that sari.

She took the last few steps between them in a kind of running walk, and caught both his outstretched hands in hers, her teeth flashing whitely in an enormous smile.

'I take it the plan worked?' he asked archly.

'To perfection!' she crowed, hardly able to contain her glee. 'Oh, if only you had seen him! I don't know what he really has been up to, but the thought that I knew had him white to the lips!'

She related the entire exchange so vividly that he had no difficulty in picturing it. It had not surprised him that Almsley had managed to dig up an actual bishop, but the fact that he had found one who either had known Maya's father or was willing to pretend he had was something of a corker.

It's the Oxford connection again. Old School ties and all that. The easy way that University men exchanged favors and backed each other up made him a little irritated and a bit jealous sometimes, but there was no doubt that this time the connections had served a higher purpose than usual.

'Well, since the enemy has retreated in disorder, that is at least one worry disposed of,' he replied, then sobered. Drawing her over to the bench, he indicated she should be seated, and sat down beside her. 'I would like to tempt you to a victory celebration, but before we even consider that, I need to tell you about something serious that has been happening. Four men have died of magical causes—'

Now it was his turn to explain, and he gave her every bit of information he had. And to his relief, although she listened attentively, there was no recognition in her face when he described the signs, and the way the men had been killed.

When he finished, she shook her head. 'I know that your Lord Alderscroft is certain India is the source, but I've never seen or heard of any magic in India that could reach halfway around the world, Peter!' she exclaimed. 'And if the Separatist movement had someone with powers like that at his disposal, don't you think they would do something more to the purpose? You know, all they would have to do would be to send a plague through all the barracks in India and there wouldn't be a single soldier or policeman able to counter a native uprising. With all of the government officials and their families held hostage, the King and the Prime Minister would have no choice but to give in to the Separatist demands.'

'How would a magician do that?' Peter asked, his blood running a little cold. 'How could one person send a plague to take the soldiers and not the natives?'

'Well, he couldn't; that's the point,' she said with a shrug. 'It would take too much power. But I can think of ways to do it if you had the power. You'd just send plague-carrying rats into the barracks full of fleas and bubonic plague, or you'd get at all the wells and poison them with cholera and typhoid, or you'd bring the rains early and use your power to make the mosquitoes that carry yellow fever breed faster. But I'm a doctor,' she added. 'I think of these things. It doesn't follow that the Separatists would. I suppose there are plenty of other ways to use magic to strike at the Colonial Government, if one wanted to. My point is that it doesn't make sense to use magic against little nuisances here when you could do much more damage on big nuisances in India.'

'That was exactly what I thought,' he sighed, relieved that she hadn't seen the four reported deaths as a sign that she was in danger from anything.

'There are plenty of people here from home, and some of them might very well have had grudges against these particular men,' she added. 'I think your gentleman is overreacting, to tell the truth. Well, perhaps not that. Four men did die—but I think he's seeing a menace to everyone that just isn't there.' She shook her head and smiled again. 'Now, didn't you say something about a victory celebration?'

'Indeed I did! Can your household spare you for the rest of the evening?' he asked, dismissing the matter from his mind for the moment.

'With no difficulty whatsoever,' she replied, as he rose and offered her his hand. 'What did you have in mind?'

'Better to ask, what did I have planned?' he smiled. 'And it's a surprise, so come along and don't ask questions.'

To his delight, she laughed, took his hand, and got to her feet. 'Whatever it is, I hope it's cool,' she told him. 'It may not be quite as hot today as it has been, but it's still too hot for these ridiculous clothes you English insist on wearing.'

'You know what they say. Mad dogs and Englishmen.' She didn't reclaim her hand, so he tucked it into the corner of his elbow as they walked toward the street. 'I can promise that it will be cool; whether you'll like it or not, I can't pledge.'