The Sapphire Cutlass Read online

  A sound drew her attention back to the vast courtyard in front of the palace’s steps. The airship had landed in the center, next to a carved stone fountain that must have run dry years before. Thaddeus was being dragged from the airship. He stumbled under his captors’ grip and was pushed to his knees, lined up in the dust beside Dita and J. Wordlessly, a soldier stepped toward each of them, drawing their curved swords and holding them at their necks. Anger swelled in Rémy’s heart as she saw Dita flinch and tremble as the cold metal touched her skin.

  The jeweled man had slipped from his saddle, handing the reins of his horse to a servant who bowed deeply before leading the creature away. The man then circled the airship thoughtfully, disappearing from her view as he walked around the front and then reappeared at the propeller end. She saw that he had something in his hand — he was throwing it from one and catching it in the other as he walked, and it glinted with the reflection of the flickering light from the torches on the walls. Rémy almost gasped as she realized what it was. Her puzzle box!

  There was a brief commotion as a new man entered the scene, descending the steps of the palace at a slow, dignified pace. Dressed in pure white, this man was older, with wisps of gray-white hair escaping the pagri wrapped around his head. He held himself regally, and as Rémy watched, she saw a ripple move through the assembled troops as he passed by — a straightening of the shoulders, a lifting of the chins. Clearly this man, too, held great power here, despite his lack of ostentatious jewelry. He stood before the airship’s nose, his hands clasped behind his back. He did not seem in the least impressed, but instead regarded the craft with something like contempt.

  The jeweled man completed his circuit of the ship and moved to stand with the man in white. They conferred quietly for a few moments, apparently disagreeing about something, though only mildly. The older man eventually brought his hands in front of him, spreading his palms in a gesture somewhat like a shrug.

  The jeweled man nodded once, and then turned to the silent soldiers still standing at attention in the rows they had formed after entering the palace gates.

  “This,” he began, his deep voice echoing around the courtyard, “is a historic day, my friends. This — this!” He waved at the airship. “This magnificent ship of the air will change our fortunes and the fortunes of this great country forever. For too many years we have toiled without hope, dreaming of freeing all of India from the foul grip of colonization. Now, here, with the help of this marvelous contraption and the others like it that we shall build together — we will at last achieve our goals. Together, we will smite the British and their armies who ransack our land! We will take back our food, we will take back our cities and towns and villages! We will take back our sovereignty!”

  A cheer rumbled up through the flickering torchlight, rolling over Rémy like a wave of thunder. The soldiers below all drew their curved swords, shouting and waving their weapons in the air until the glow of the glinting fire reflected in the blades was a blinding mass of light.

  The man in white, Rémy noted, did not cheer. He stared straight ahead, his face impassive apart from, she thought, the slightest flicker of something that could have been fury. Although it was gone before it had ever really been there at all.

  The jeweled man raised his hands for silence, and it fell as quickly as it had in the jungle when the tiger had stalked the chital. Rémy dared not move a muscle, perched as she was atop the wall. If any of them were to see her, there were a thousand ways for her to die at the hands of these men.

  “Go now, to your duties,” the jeweled man ordered. “I must rest, for tomorrow is a new day, and it will dawn on a new era for us all.”

  The troops, as one, bowed low to their leader. They moved off, some taking up posts around the great courtyard, others disappearing through a large arch on the far side of the palace that Rémy couldn’t see into but assumed was a barracks. Others still entered a smaller arch that framed a slope that led beneath the palace.

  Rémy watched as Thaddeus, Dita, and J were pulled roughly to their feet. Thaddeus tried to say something, but one of the soldiers clubbed him roughly about the face with enough force that Rémy winced, feeling a fresh surge of fury burst through her. Thaddeus, stunned, did not try to speak again, and a moment later the jeweled man waved a peremptory hand. The three prisoners were dragged in the direction of the small archway that led into the palace foundations. She watched as they disappeared through it and out of her sight.

  The courtyard was almost empty. Besides the four guards who circled the airship, just the jeweled man and the man in white remained. The jeweled man looked proudly at his new acquisition before tossing Rémy’s puzzle box into the air once more. He made a remark that made the man in white bow his head, as if in obeisance. Then he strode toward the palace steps, taking them two at a time and swishing through a door that opened for him as if by magic. After another moment of silent contemplation, the man in white turned and followed.

  {Chapter 5}

  BREAKING IN

  Still crouched in the shadows atop the wall, Rémy looked down on the empty scene below her. Even with four guards, she could probably retake the airship alone, but doing that would no doubt condemn her friends to death before she’d have a chance to ransom it for their return. She imagined them now, being shoved roughly into a dingy cell in the lowest part of the palace. No, she had to free them first. Which meant getting in unseen. Now that most of the soldiers had left the courtyard, taking their torches with them, the light inside the walls was far dimmer. There were still lights burning, though — two torches on each wall, like the ones beside the great wooden door in the outer wall. For Rémy not to attract the attention of either the guards on the wall or the four standing at attention around the airship, she needed a diversion.

  Lying flat on top of the wide wall, Rémy slowly pried out a piece of the crumbling stonework. At first she didn’t think it was going to budge — the wall was sturdier than it looked — but her nimble fingers finally managed to pull free a chunk the size of her puzzle box. Puffs of chalky dust floated away into the hot night air as she lifted it carefully onto the wall before sitting up. She chose a spot in the forest — close enough to the wall to be of concern to the sentries but far enough away not to be easily inspected from their posts — then drew back her arm and threw.

  The piece of stone was swallowed by the night almost immediately, arcing in a smooth but invisible curve from Rémy’s hand into the jungle outside the palace walls. By sheer luck she must have chosen the sleeping place of a family of monkeys, because there came a sudden and terrible cacophony of shrieks, followed by the shaking of not just leaves, but the entire tree.

  As she’d hoped, both sentries on that side of the palace were suddenly instantly awake, fervently searching the forest for a sign of something coming toward them. They were so intent on what was happening below them that they didn’t see her slip from her perch on the wall and descend into the shadows of the courtyard. Once back on the ground, Rémy moved quickly, keeping to the edges, as far away from the sentries on duty at the airship as possible. She made for the archway she’d seen Thaddeus, Dita, and J being dragged toward: the smaller one that led below the palace.

  To get to it Rémy had to pass directly in front of the palace steps. She darted from one pool of shadows to another, stopping every few minutes to make sure she had made no noise. The courtyard seemed even bigger now that she was down on the ground — the fountain she had dismissed as old and disused was, she realized now, almost as big as the airship itself. The flagstones beneath her feet were carved from large slabs of marble, white and veined with lines of mineral that glimmered slightly even in the darkness. The palace itself was built of the same marble, carved and curved and in daylight, Rémy thought it quite likely, beautiful despite its age.

  She reached the archway — which would be large enough to take a cart and oxen without its driver having to leave his
seat — and slipped inside. The ground sloped down and away. Rémy descended the path, a solid iron gate blocking her way just a few feet inside. Beyond it, lights burned almost as brightly as if it were day, and Rémy quickly flattened herself against the wall as she realized there was movement there, too. Soldiers and servants bustled about beyond the barrier, moving barrels and sacks of food from one place to another — besides wherever her friends were being kept, this level was obviously storage for the rest of the palace, too. There was too much activity beyond the gate for her to pick its lock without being seen.

  Cursing silently, Rémy looked around. A flight of stone steps curved upward and out of sight to her left. Since she seemed to have no other option, she dodged over and ascended them quickly — if anyone happened to be coming the other way, she’d be caught for sure, for the torch burning on the wall meant here there were no shadows big enough to melt into. Rémy sighed in relief as she made it to the next floor. The stairway opened out into a wide corridor, which led to many small rooms and antechambers. It was cooler here, she noted — the marble of the palace walls helping to quell the incessant heat, at least a little.

  Rémy headed along the corridor, hoping to find another way down into the lower levels. This floor seemed to be the servants’ quarters. The few open doors showed her sparse, basic living arrangements of low beds and plain, dusty floors. Another room had rows of tables lined up almost like a schoolroom, except that each surface was piled with rich fabrics: silks and brocades, poplins and charmeuse. Rémy could imagine the room flooded with sunny daylight, filled with activity as the men and women who worked there sewed the jeweled man yet another extraordinarily beautiful outfit. For a split second she wondered whether any of the jewels they used to adorn his clothes would be kept in there, too, but despite the temptation to look, she forced herself not to investigate. Rémy Brunel was a thief no longer, but sometimes … just sometimes …

  With a silent sigh, she moved onward, past door after closed door. A sound echoed ahead of her — footsteps, coming closer. Panicked, Rémy looked around, but there was nothing in the corridor to hide behind. She tried one door, turning the circular handle silently, but it appeared to be locked. Moving to another as the footfalls grew ever louder, she found that to be locked, too. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she could make it back to the flight of stairs, but realized that would be the height of folly — there was more light there, more chance that she’d be trapped between someone coming up and whoever this was, coming down.

  Darting to the other side of the corridor, she tried another handle. This time the door gave and she slipped inside, finding herself in darkness. She leaned against the door, leveling her breathing, as the person outside passed, footsteps echoing into the distance without pause. Rémy sighed in relief.

  “Who’s there?”

  The voice made her jump. Rémy’s instinct was to drop to a crouch, and she did, staying near the door and hoping that the darkness was enough to conceal her. Rémy slowed her breathing — a circus trick she’d been taught long ago to help her calm herself on the wire — and prayed that whomever she’d stirred from slumber would drop off again just as quickly.

  It seemed, however, that Rémy’s luck was running low.

  “I know you are there,” said a man’s voice, deep and low, melodic. “By the door. Show yourself, please.”

  Still Rémy said nothing. A strange sound echoed from the direction of the voice — a clank, followed by a rattle and the sound of something dragging itself through the darkness. Then the sound of a match being struck sent Rémy’s heart plummeting. A pale, flickering light bloomed into the room as the owner of the voice lit a candle.

  Rémy stood, swiftly, her hand already back on the door handle, ready to run. The figure on the bed was still moving, legs swinging over its low edge as the man’s feet reached the stone floor.

  “Wait,” said the figure, “don’t go …”

  Something about the voice and the figure made Rémy hesitate, just for a second. She turned to look at the man, taking in the long, unkempt hair and beard.

  She gasped.

  “Desai!”

  {Chapter 6}

  BREAKING OUT

  Desai, who was in the process of trying to stand up, looked up at her with sharply narrowed eyes that suddenly widened in recognition.

  “Rémy Brunel! What in the name of Shiva are you doing here?”

  Rémy was across the room in a second, standing angrily before her old friend as he got slowly to his feet.

  “We came to look for you,” she hissed furiously, “but we were attacked by the soldiers of this palace and the jeweled man who commands them. They have taken Thaddeus, J, and Dita — they are here, somewhere below our feet even now. And now I find that you, our friend, the man we came to find, are in league with the monster who took them and stole the airship!”

  Desai blinked at her with hooded lids. “Believe me, Miss Brunel, at this moment I am as much a prisoner as they.” He raised his right arm, and the clanking sound Rémy had heard minutes earlier came again.

  It was only then that Rémy saw the chain. It was thick and heavy, attached to a cuff that circled Desai’s arm — an arm that, she saw, was far thinner than the last time she had seen him. The other end of the chain was fastened to a ring set fast into the stone floor.

  Rémy glanced around the room. It was as bare as the others she had seen, with the exception of a small table standing close to the bed, on which was a pile of paper and an ink pen standing upright in its well. Desai’s chain was just long enough to allow him to move between the bed and the table, but no farther.

  “What is happening here?” Rémy asked.

  Desai gave her a faint smile. His hair had grayed even more since their last meeting. “The ‘Jeweled Man,’ as you call him, is the raja of this palace and he wants what I have up here,” he tapped his forehead with one thin finger. “Or rather, his right-hand man, Sahoj, does. They intend to keep me here until I give it to them.”

  Rémy fumbled beneath her shirt. She’d foregone her customary corset since reaching India — in the heat it was just unbearable — but wore her usual black shirt and the belt in which she still carried the tools of her former trade. She pulled out her pack of lock-picking tools, folded neatly in the small leather case that Gustave had given her a lifetime ago.

  “Sit,” she ordered, indicating the bed, and then as Desai did so, she knelt before him and took his right hand. The skin around the cuff was raw, and she tried not to agitate it further as she worked on the lock.

  “Tell me more about the jeweled man,” she whispered as she worked.

  She glanced up to see Desai looking away into the shadows, a thoughtful frown on his face. Then he looked at her with a slight smile, as if to dispel what had caused the frown. “It will take a long time to explain. Perhaps it should wait …”

  “Until we have escaped this place? Mais oui. Later, then … voila!” she whispered triumphantly as the cuff slid undone under her fingers. “You are free, my friend. Now, let us see about the others, yes?”

  Desai stood, rubbing his wrist. “There is another way down to the cells. We will need to go through the kitchens — they have their own access, so that the cooks may easily deliver food to the guards for the prisoners.”

  Rémy frowned. “There are still many people up and about. You are sure we will not be seen?”

  “Oh, I am absolutely sure we will be seen,” Desai said grimly, “but I have known this place for a long, long time. There are people who will be willing to help. But Rémy — getting to our friends, getting them out of their prisons, even, that is one thing. But getting out of the palace? That is quite another. As soon as the alarm has sounded, we will be trapped. And you may be able to scale the walls, my dear, but I guarantee you that such a feat is beyond me.”

  “Ah — but that is why we will retake the airshi
p,” said Rémy. “In the air we will outrun them without any trouble.”

  Desai frowned again. “Airship. You used that word before. I have not heard of such a thing. What is it?”

  Rémy grinned. “You will see. Another of the Professor’s inventions, Desai, and one that meant we could follow you here, to this place. Now, are you ready? We are wasting time with all this chat!”

  Desai turned and grabbed a sheet from the bed, holding it out to her. “Wrap this around yourself. Cover your head, also. My face is known here and prisoner or not I am not much to remark upon. But yours is not and will not go unnoticed.” He nodded as Rémy did as she was told. “Good. Now, follow closely and be alert.”

  Once out of the room, Desai walked quickly to the end of the corridor, and Rémy stayed as close to him as she could. They saw no one as they turned the corner and entered another corridor, this time where the doors were more widely spaced. Ahead, noise floated to them along with a glow that partially dispelled the nighttime gloom. There came the rattle of what sounded like pots and pans, and the occasional shout of an order or the hiss of steam rising.

  Rémy pulled her makeshift cloak more closely around her face as they entered the kitchens. There were people everywhere, working diligently as they chopped vegetables or stirred huge pots of richly scented sauces. Rémy’s heart pounded, expecting one of the cooks to see them at any moment and raise the alarm. But when one man did look up and see Desai, his eyes merely widened for a moment before he bowed his head in what seemed to be a mark of respect.

  Desai took no notice, hurrying through the kitchen, passing bench after bench of foods being prepared and spices being crushed. Despite their situation, Rémy’s stomach rumbled — the brace of rabbits she’d caught earlier in the day had remained uncooked, and she was very hungry. She thought about slipping out a hand to snag a carrot as she passed, but thought better of it.