The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [172]
Comfortably settled between the roots of an ancient neem tree, his shoulders fitting snugly into a deep groove in the trunk, Ash was once again engaged in pondering the problems presented by Juli, while at the same time listening with one ear to a low-pitched conversation between two people whom he could not see, and who were presumably unaware that there was anyone else on the far side of the tree – unless they imagined him to be asleep. It was a singularly uninteresting conversation and only its content told him that one of the speakers was Jhoti, who apparently wished to go off on his own to try his hawk on the far side of the jheel, and was being discouraged from doing so by some un-cooperative adult. As Ash saw no reason to make his presence known and thereby be drawn into an argument in which both sides would appeal to him for support, he stayed where he was and kept silent, hoping that the two would soon go away and leave him in peace. The low-pitched voices interfered with his thoughts and made it impossible for him to concentrate, and he listened to them with increasing irritation.
‘But I want to go,’ said Jhoti. ‘Why should I waste the whole afternoon snoring? If you don't want to come with me, you need not. I don't want you, anyway. I'd much rather go alone. I'm tired of being followed about as though I were a baby and never being allowed to do anything by myself. And I won't take Gian Chand, either. I can fly a hawk just as well as he can, and I don't need him to tell me how to do it.’
‘Yes, yes, my Prince. Of course.’ The whispering voice was soothing and placatory: ‘Everyone knows it. But you cannot go about unattended. It is not fitting, and His Highness your brother would never permit it. Perhaps when you are older –’
‘I am old enough now,’ interrupted Jhoti hotly. ‘And as for my brother, you know quite well that he would do anything to prevent me enjoying myself. He always has. He knew how much I wished to accompany my sisters to Bhithor, so of course he said I could not go just to spite me. But I tricked him finely and came after all.’
‘You did, my Prince. But as I warned you then, it was a rash deed and one we may all live to regret, as he may yet send to fetch you back and revenge himself upon those of us who came with you. This escapade of yours has already put me in grave jeopardy, and were any harm to befall you on the journey, my head would surely pay for it.’
‘Bah! That is child's talk. You said yourself that he would never have me dragged back for fear that it would create too much talk, and make him look foolish because I had out-witted him. Besides, you were in his service before you were in mine, so –’
‘Nay, Prince, I was in your mother the Maharani's service. It was only by her orders that I served him; and by her order that I left his service for yours. Ah, she was a very great lady, the Maharani.’
‘You do not need to tell me that,’ said Jhoti jealously, ‘she was my mother. And she loved me best – that I know. But because you were once in Nandu's household, you can always pretend that you only came away with me in order to see that I came to no harm.’
The reply was a curious giggling laugh that instantly identified the boy's companion and jerked Ash to sudden attention, for even after all these years he remembered that sound. Biju Ram had always giggled like that at Lalji's jokes and his own obscenities, or at the sight of any creature, human or animal, being tormented.
‘Why do you laugh?’ demanded Jhoti resentfully, his voice rising.
‘Hush, Prince – you will wake the sleepers. I laughed because I was thinking of how your brother would look if I said any such thing to him. He would not believe it, though the gods know it is true. Yet you have shown him that you can think and act for yourself, and cannot be