The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [425]
Anger blazed up in Ash, and heedless of the watching eyes, he strode across the room, and grasping Anjuli's shoulders, jerked her round to face him:
‘Is this true?’
The harshness in his voice was only a small measure of the fury that possessed him, and when she did not answer he shook her savagely: ‘Answer me!’
‘She… Shushila… does not understand,’ whispered Anjuli, her eyes still frozen with horror. ‘She does not realize what… what it will be like. And when she does –’
‘Shushila!’ Ash spat out the name as though it were an obscenity. ‘Always Shushila – and selfish to the end. I suppose she made you promise to do this? She would! Oh, I know she saved you from burning with her, but if she'd really wanted to repay you for all you have done for her, she could have saved you from reprisals at the hands of the Diwan by having you smuggled out of the state, instead of begging you to come here and watch her die.’
‘You don't understand,’ whispered Anjuli numbly.
‘Oh, yes I do. That's where you are wrong. I understand only too well. You are still hypnotized by that selfish, hysterical little egotist, and you are perfectly prepared to jeopardize your chances of escaping from Bhithor and a horrible form of mutilation – and risk all our lives into the bargain, Gobind's, Sarji's, Manilal's and my own, just so that you can carry out your darling little sister's last wishes and watch her commit suicide. Well, I don't care what she made you promise. You are not keeping it. You are going to leave now if I have to carry you.’
His rage was real; yet even as he spoke, a part of his brain was saying, ‘This is Juli, whom I love more than anything else in the world, and who I was afraid I should never see again. She is here at last – and all I can do is to be angry with her…’ It didn't make sense. But then nor did his threat to carry her, for if anything were to draw attention to them, that would. He could not do it, and she would have to walk; and to go with them willingly. There was no other way. But if she would not…?
The funeral cortège must be very near by now. The discordant braying of the conches and the shouts of ‘ Khaman Kher!’ and ‘Hari-bol!’ were growing louder every minute, and already isolated voices in the crowd below had begun to take up the cries.
Anjuli turned her head to listen, and the movement was so slow and vague that Ash recognized suddenly that in her present state of shock, his anger had not reached her. He drew a long breath and steadied himself, and his hands on her shoulders relaxed to tenderness. He said gently, coaxing her as though she were a child: ‘Don't you see, dear, as long as Shu-shu thinks you are here, watching her and praying for her, she will be satisfied. Listen to me, Juli. She will never know that you are not, for though you and I can see out through this chik, no one out there can see us, so you cannot even signal to her. And if you called out to her, she could not possibly hear you.’
‘Yes, I know. But…’
‘Juli, all you can do is to hurt yourself cruelly by watching a sight that may haunt you for the rest of your life; and that is not going to help her.’
‘Yes, I know… but you could. You could help her.’
‘I? No, dear. There is nothing that I or any of us can do for her now. I'm sorry Juli, but that is the truth and you must face it.’
‘It isn't. It isn't true.’ Anjuli's hands came up to his wrists, and her eyes were no longer frozen but wide and imploring, and at last he saw her face, for the turban-end had become loose when he shook her, and now it fell down about her throat.
The change in that face was like a knife in Ash's heart, because it was terribly altered – more so than he could have dreamed possible. The flesh had wasted from it leaving it thin and drawn and desperate, and as drained of colour as though she had spent the last two years penned up in a dungeon where no gleam of light ever penetrated. There were lines and deep hollows in it that had not been there before, and the dark shadows that circled