The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [232]
He had forgotten Jhoti. But Anjuli had not, and when she spoke at last it was in an undertone, as though she was thinking aloud: ‘This is Nandu's doing,’ said Anjuli quietly. ‘It must be so, for who else could gain any profit from Jhoti's death, or have any reason for wishing to kill him? The camp is full of Nandu's men… though I cannot believe that there can be many who would be willing to kill a child. But then it would not need many, only one or two, and if we do not know who they are it will be difficult to guard him. We must decide who can be trusted and see to it that there is always one of them with him to keep watch.’
She turned to look at Ash, and said: ‘Who else knows of this, besides Mulraj and yourself and my uncle's Hakim, Gobind Dass?’
‘No one,’ said Ash, and explained why it had seemed best that first time to keep the matter secret, and to tell only herself and Gobind now. Anjuli nodded and said thoughtfully: ‘Yes, you were right. It would only frighten Shu-shu, and as she would never believe that Nandu could have ordered such a thing, she would see it as part of a plot to kill us all – our family. My uncle would believe, but what can he do? Besides, if he knew he would find it difficult to conceal his alarm from Shu-shu, or from Jhoti either. But there are others whom I think we can safely trust. Old Geeta, for one. And Jhoti's own body-servant, Ramji, who has been with him since he was born, and whose wife is one of my women. Ramji would surely know which, if any, of his fellow servants could be trusted. Let us think now…’
The horses wandered forward unchecked, pausing occasionally to crop a mouthful of parched grass and moving on again while their riders discussed ways and means of preventing the murder of a child, and behind them the sky darkened. Presently another and far stronger gust of wind swept down the valley, driving the dust before it and snatching the turban from Anjuli's head to send it bowling away, unwinding as it went. Her hair whipped about her face and streamed forward on the blast like sea-weed in a tide-rip, and both horses threw up their heads and snorted and began to trot.
‘High time we turned back,’ said Ash. ‘You'd better tie something round your head or you won't be able to see where you're going. Here –’
He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his riding breeches and put it into her hand, and turning his horse caught his breath and said in English: ‘Good God!’
They had both been too occupied to pay much attention to their surroundings, and neither of them had thought to look behind them or to wonder why the light seemed to be fading unusually quickly. The sky ahead had been clear and calm, and even now the last of the sun lay gold along the crest of the near hill. But as they turned they saw that behind them lay nothing but darkness: a brown, turgid curtain of darkness that spanned the horizon from left to right and was advancing with such speed that it had already blotted out the entrance to the valley. The wind that drove it forward was no longer blowing in gusts, but had steadied to a gale, and now they could smell the dust and see that the sky above them was turning brown. ‘But it's too early,’ thought Ash dazedly. ‘A month too early… more!’ He stared at the advancing dust-storm as though he could not believe what he saw.
Juli said: ‘Shushila,’ and caught her breath on a sob. ‘Shushila –’
She dropped her hands and let the handkerchief that she had been trying to tie about her head vanish on the wind, and snatching up the reins, urged her horse to a gallop, riding headlong for the wall of darkness that had swallowed up the plain where they had left Shushila. But Ash had recovered himself and he was too quick for her. He had never before used more than the lightest touch