watched him, trying to figure out what he was doing, Narayan produced an odd tool he'd carried under the dark robe he'd donned for the adventure. The tool had a head that was half hammer, half pick, that weighed at least two pounds. Maybe more if it was the silver and gold it appeared to be. Its handle was ebony inlaid with ivory and a few rubies that caught the lamplight and gleamed like fresh blood. He began pounding the earth with the pick side, but quietly, unrhythmically.
That wasn't a tool that would be used that way ordinarily. I know a cult object when I see one, even if it's unfamiliar.
Narayan broke up the earth. Sindhu used a tin pan to scoop it onto a carpet he'd turned face down, careful not to scatter any. I had no idea what they intended. They were too intent on what they were doing to explain. A litany of sorts, in cant, passed between them. I heard something about auspices and the promise of the crows, more about the Daughter of Night and those people-or whatever they were.
All I could do was keep watch.
Time passed. I had a tense few minutes when the guard changed outside. But those men had little to say to one another. The new men didn't check inside the tent.
I heard a meaty whack and muted crunch, turned to see what they were doing now.
They'd gotten a hole dug. It was barely three feet deep and not that far across. I couldn't guess what they meant to do with it.
They showed me.
Narayan used the hammer face of his tool to break Jah's bones. Just as Ram had been doing with a rock that morning in that draw. He whispered, "It's been a long time but I still have the touch."
It's amazing how small a bundle a big man makes once you pulverize his joints and fold him up.
They cut open Jah's belly and deposited him in the hole. Narayan's final stroke buried the pick in the corpse's skull. He cleaned the tool, then they filled the hole around the remains, tamping the earth as they went. Half an hour later you couldn't tell where they'd dug.
They put the carpets back, bundled up the excess dirt, looked at me for the first time since they'd begun.
They were surprised to find me impassive. They wanted me to be outraged or disgusted. Or something. Anything that betrayed a feminine weakness.
"I've seen men mutilated before."
Narayan nodded. Maybe he was pleased. Hard to tell. "We still have to get out."
The firelight outside betrayed the positions of the guards. They were where they were supposed to be. If my spell worked a second time we'd only need a little luck to get out unseen.
Narayan and Sindhu scattered dirt as we walked toward our camp. "Good rumel work, Mistress," Narayan said. And something more, in cant, to Sindhu, who agreed reluctantly.
I asked, "Why did you bury him? No one will know what happened to him. I wanted him to become an object lesson."
"Leaving him lie would have told everyone who was responsible. Innuendo is more frightening than fact. Better you're guilty in rumor."
Maybe. "Why did you break him up and cut him open?"
"A smaller grave is harder to find. We cut him open so he wouldn't bloat. If you don't they sometimes bloat so much they come up out of the ground. Or they explode and loose off enough gas so the grave can be found by the smell. Especially by jackals, who dig them up and scatter them all over."
Practical. Logical. Obvious, once he explained it. I'd never had occasion to conceal a body before. I'd surrounded myself with very practical-and clearly very experienced-murderers.
"We have to talk soon, Narayan."
He grinned that grin. He'd tell me some truth when he did.
We slipped back into camp and parted company.
I slept well. There were dreams but they weren't filled with gloom and doom. In one a beautiful black woman came and held me and caressed me and called me her daughter and told me I'd done well. I wakened feeling refreshed and as vigorous as if I'd had a full night's sleep. It was a beautiful morning. The world seemed painted in especially vivid
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