Fever Quest: A Clean Historical Mystery set in England and India (The Isabella Rockwell Trilogy Book 2) by Hannah Parry Page B
Authors: Hannah Parry
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wind
on her face and the gentle movement of the cart Isabella felt herself not far
from sleep, despite her fear; it had been a long day.
“Miss Rockwell?” Lakshman’s voice was gentle.
Isabella’s eyes opened. She couldn’t have been asleep for
more than a few minutes. The carriage was still moving but light spread from up
ahead. The toll of a bell caused a sudden rush of movement around her. Blinking
a little, her eyes took some time to adjust.
Hundreds of people were coming out from what could only be
called makeshift hovels. Pieces of heavy tarpaulin were strung out over metal
struts to create little shelters, but there were no walls between the
dwellings, only the odd piece of cotton hung up in an attempt to protect the
occupant’s privacy. Isabella could see small piles of bedding and figurines of
gods or goddesses, but there was little else. No food, no plates, no pictures
or books lay in the meagre living spaces. Nothing, certainly, that could
distinguish one dwelling from another. Even in the dark everything was devoid
of colour. A rank odour of unwashed bodies and excrement hung over the slum. A
couple of men with missing limbs came up to the carriage their hands
outstretched, and a tiny woman with a starveling baby clamped to her breast,
but Lakshman made an angry gesture and the driver cracked his whip at them.
“Who are these people?”
Lakshman glanced up. “Citizens of Golconda.”
“But why are they living here? Why aren’t they in the
city?”
There was another bell and the people moved faster, all in
one direction. At the same time she could see others crawling back into their
makeshift beds, not even undressing before falling asleep. Isabella looked back
over her shoulder and then at the grey faces all around her, and understanding
dawned.
“It’s the mine, isn’t it?” She couldn’t keep the disgust
from her voice. “These people are mining for Colonel Stone.”
Lakshman’s face was unperturbed. “Of course.”
Isabella took in the haggard faces and hollow cheeks and
collarbones.
“They look tired and ill.”
Lakshman looked around as if for the first time, but his
expression didn’t change.
“Well, they work hard.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the driver’s shoulder, and
the driver urged the horse forward at a trot, out on an open road. They pulled
up at a stone arch cut into the side of one of the hills she had seen from far
away. The roaring fire outside lit only part of the way up the hill and it
wouldn’t be until the morning that she saw the entrance was cut into a range of
hills running like a spine across the land to the north of Golconda.
Lakshman nodded to the guards, one of whom held a fine
albino horse, and he and Isabella passed through the cave mouth and from there
down a stairway cut out of the bowels of the mountain.
The darkness beyond the torchlight was so thick Isabella
felt she could touch it. Her hand gripped a metal rail that coiled downward in
a spiral, following the curve of the steps, whilst her other one reached for
the rough stone wall to steady herself. Her back was stiff with fear, braced
against an imagined attack.
“Has this mine been here for a long time?” Her voice
quavered a little. She hoped Lakshman hadn’t noticed. His back bobbed in front
of her, no more than an indistinct grey shape. She must keep her wits about
her.
Her feet slipped a little and then they were down the
final few steps. Ahead, Isabella could see a deep golden glow, more than just
the light of torches. She caught her breath as they entered a giant underground
chamber. The cave felt ancient; time embedded in its very fabric, in the
different-coloured layers of rock Isabella could see, in the sound of the
distant trickle of an subterranean stream. There was sand beneath her feet and
the shadows from the flames leapt upwards but the ceiling was so high it
disappeared into shadow. She had never stood in a place that felt so old.
It was lit by flaming
on her face and the gentle movement of the cart Isabella felt herself not far
from sleep, despite her fear; it had been a long day.
“Miss Rockwell?” Lakshman’s voice was gentle.
Isabella’s eyes opened. She couldn’t have been asleep for
more than a few minutes. The carriage was still moving but light spread from up
ahead. The toll of a bell caused a sudden rush of movement around her. Blinking
a little, her eyes took some time to adjust.
Hundreds of people were coming out from what could only be
called makeshift hovels. Pieces of heavy tarpaulin were strung out over metal
struts to create little shelters, but there were no walls between the
dwellings, only the odd piece of cotton hung up in an attempt to protect the
occupant’s privacy. Isabella could see small piles of bedding and figurines of
gods or goddesses, but there was little else. No food, no plates, no pictures
or books lay in the meagre living spaces. Nothing, certainly, that could
distinguish one dwelling from another. Even in the dark everything was devoid
of colour. A rank odour of unwashed bodies and excrement hung over the slum. A
couple of men with missing limbs came up to the carriage their hands
outstretched, and a tiny woman with a starveling baby clamped to her breast,
but Lakshman made an angry gesture and the driver cracked his whip at them.
“Who are these people?”
Lakshman glanced up. “Citizens of Golconda.”
“But why are they living here? Why aren’t they in the
city?”
There was another bell and the people moved faster, all in
one direction. At the same time she could see others crawling back into their
makeshift beds, not even undressing before falling asleep. Isabella looked back
over her shoulder and then at the grey faces all around her, and understanding
dawned.
“It’s the mine, isn’t it?” She couldn’t keep the disgust
from her voice. “These people are mining for Colonel Stone.”
Lakshman’s face was unperturbed. “Of course.”
Isabella took in the haggard faces and hollow cheeks and
collarbones.
“They look tired and ill.”
Lakshman looked around as if for the first time, but his
expression didn’t change.
“Well, they work hard.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the driver’s shoulder, and
the driver urged the horse forward at a trot, out on an open road. They pulled
up at a stone arch cut into the side of one of the hills she had seen from far
away. The roaring fire outside lit only part of the way up the hill and it
wouldn’t be until the morning that she saw the entrance was cut into a range of
hills running like a spine across the land to the north of Golconda.
Lakshman nodded to the guards, one of whom held a fine
albino horse, and he and Isabella passed through the cave mouth and from there
down a stairway cut out of the bowels of the mountain.
The darkness beyond the torchlight was so thick Isabella
felt she could touch it. Her hand gripped a metal rail that coiled downward in
a spiral, following the curve of the steps, whilst her other one reached for
the rough stone wall to steady herself. Her back was stiff with fear, braced
against an imagined attack.
“Has this mine been here for a long time?” Her voice
quavered a little. She hoped Lakshman hadn’t noticed. His back bobbed in front
of her, no more than an indistinct grey shape. She must keep her wits about
her.
Her feet slipped a little and then they were down the
final few steps. Ahead, Isabella could see a deep golden glow, more than just
the light of torches. She caught her breath as they entered a giant underground
chamber. The cave felt ancient; time embedded in its very fabric, in the
different-coloured layers of rock Isabella could see, in the sound of the
distant trickle of an subterranean stream. There was sand beneath her feet and
the shadows from the flames leapt upwards but the ceiling was so high it
disappeared into shadow. She had never stood in a place that felt so old.
It was lit by flaming
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