The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [439]
Ash looked quickly at the narrow cleft through which they had just come, and then back at Anjuli, who had dropped to the ground when he released her, and was sitting with closed eyes, her head thrown back against the wall of the canyon. Her dishevelled hair was grey with dust and he saw that there was a snow-white streak in it, like a wide bar of silver laid across the darkness. Her face was so drawn with exhaustion that a stranger would have been forgiven for thinking her an old woman, and it did not seem possible that she was not yet twenty-one.
Ash wished that he could have let her rest there a little longer. She looked as though she needed it – as they all did, horses as well as riders – and though the air in the canyon was stiflingly hot with the accumulated heat of the blazing day, at least the shadows lent it an illusion of coolness, and the tired horses had already begun to nibble at the sun-dried grass. But there was no help for it: they would have to press on, for despite the steep hillsides on either hand and the great wall of rock and scree that lay between them and the valley, they could still hear the muffled crack of Bukta's rifle and the answering spatter of shots that told them that their pursuers had halted and were returning his fire.
Ash's own carbine was still strapped to Sarji's saddle, and he took it down and re-loaded it, and reaching for the boxes of ammunition, stowed them in one of the saddle-bags and said curtly: ‘Sarji, you and Gobind must go on ahead with the Rani while I take over from Bukta and hold this rabble off. He will have to go with you because he's the only one who knows the way; and –’ He stopped and looked round: ‘Where is Manilal? What happened to him?’
But neither Sarji or Gobind could tell him. There had been no time to look back, or to do anything but urge on the flagging horses; and once they were among the rocks they could no longer see what was happening in the valley. ‘But Bukta will have seen that he came to no harm,’ said Sarji confidently. ‘He never misses, and there will soon be many dead men out there. Hark to him! – he is firing as fast as he can load. If we three go back and help him we should be able to kill them all.’
Ash said sharply: ‘No, Sarji. You must leave this to me. We came here to save the Rani, and her safety comes first. We cannot afford to take risks with her life, and though there may be only a handful of men out there now, there will soon be more coming up behind them from the burning-ground. Besides, once it is dark none of us will be able to move, so just do as I say and don't argue – we haven't time. Gobind, see that the Rani-Sahiba is ready to leave as soon as Bukta and Manilal get here. She'll have to ride behind one of you, so if there is any doubt about the other horses being able to take a double load, Sarji must ride Dagobaz and leave one of the others for me. Throw me over that shot-gun; I may as well take that too: and the cartridges – Thanks, Sarji. I'll be back as soon as it's safe to go on. Don't stop unless you have to. You won't be safe until you're well beyond the border.’
He shouldered the two guns, picked up the laden saddle-bag, and without looking at Anjuli went quickly away.
The narrow cut that wound between the rocks was very quiet and deeply shadowed, for the light was already draining from the thin sliver of sky that showed high overhead, and it occurred to Ash that long before the sun was down it would be dark in there: too dark to see, which might be to his advantage, as anyone unfamiliar with the passage would probably be held up by the first sharp turn, imagining that it was a dead-end, whereas he would be able to grope his way back without much difficulty… that was, if he came back.
‘No. Not if, when,’ thought Ash soberly, for he had remembered something: a voice from the past saying ‘The Sahib-log do not understand that Truth should be used sparingly, and they call us liars because when we of this country are asked questions by strangers, we prefer to lie first and then consider whether the truth could