The Temple Dancer by John Speed

must ask yourself-who is it that he
seeks to please? I assure you, it is not me, and much less is it you."

    Lucinda blinked, uncertain. "But to call him a monstrosity ..."
    "Those like him, they are not persons anymore. You heard how we
Hindis keep them apart.... Their souls are broken with their bodies. They
cease to act like men."
    Lucinda shook her head. "Your words are too harsh."
    "My thoughts were gentle, not so long ago. I no longer have that luxury." Maya leaned forward, glancing round her. "You know about the
Brotherhood?"
    "Well, I've heard of it," Lucinda answered, looking doubtful.
    "What you've heard is true, and more besides. Beware."
    But at that moment a rustle of the curtains and the sound of huffing
made it clear that Slipper had returned.
    "Sharing secrets?" the eunuch asked when he regained his breath.
    Before either could answer, however, Geraldo's face appeared at the
curtains of the howdah. "How are you ladies faring?" He cast a long appraising look at Maya.
    "Geraldo, hurry up," came Da Gama's voice in Portuguese. After
hours of Hindi, the language sounded like music to Lucinda.
    "I'll just ride here with my cousin for a while, if I might, Captain,"
Geraldo answered lightly. He winked at Lucinda.
    "All right," Da Gama said, "ride there until we get to the dharmsala.
I'll lead your horse." They could hear Da Gama cursing softly as he rode
off, and the sound of the silver ladder being stowed.

    "This seems a pleasant place to ride," Geraldo said in his flawless Hindi.
    "How have you two learned to speak our language so well?" Slipper
asked while they waited.
    "My cousin, I think, speaks much better than I," Geraldo said. Lucinda pretended to hide her face and they all laughed. "My father's second
wife, my stepmother, was a Christian Hindi woman. She was beautiful, but
she spoke not a word of Portuguese, and my father spoke no Hindi. I was
young then, and much more agreeable; so I learned Hindi at her very attractive knees. Of course, for the rest of my father's life, I had to translate
for them both: arguments, love talk, everything."

    "Your stepmother still lives?" Slipper asked politely. But Geraldo only
shrugged as if the question were meaningless. "Well, what about you,
madam?" the eunuch asked Lucinda, quickly changing the subject.
    The howdah lurched as the caravan began to move, and everyone but
Geraldo grabbed for something as the floor jostl°d into its rocking
rhythm. Geraldo, who'd spent much time at sea, sat upright easily, smiling
at the discomfort of the others.
    "My mother died young," Lucinda said. "My father always hired
Hindi governesses, and I must confess I won their affection by learning
their language. But this knowledge has come in handy, as you see."
    "All of us, orphans," Slipper remarked softly.
    "So, does everyone know about where we're headed?" Geraldo asked
amiably.
    "Bijapur!" Slipper answered, like an eager pupil.
    Geraldo laughed and Lucinda saw him steal another a glance at Maya. "I
meant our route today.... We've been heading east, over the coastal plain.
We're a few miles from a high mountain range called the Western Ghats. You
probably saw the mountains in the distance yesterday."
    "Do the mountains look like steps, sir?" Slipper asked-for "ghat"
also meant stairway.
    "Alas, senhor, if only the mountains were shaped like steps, our journey
would be easier. Bijapur lies in the middle of a wide plateau-very much
hotter than this part of Hindustan. To reach the city, we must climb those
Ghats. But they are not steps; the roads are steep and treacherous. See how
much slower we're travelling today than yesterday."
    In truth none of them had noticed ... the road looked much the same as
ever, though the hillside had grown much steeper of late. "There's an especially difficult road ahead, through a narrow pass. But Deoga says we will
stay at a dharmsala tonight and face the pass tomorrow."
    Slipper pursed his lips. "A dharmsala." His tone was