"We shall deal with them when we must." Randhir drew his dagger. "If we are going to travel together, we must know one another. I am Matun."
Shea held his face neutral for a moment, thrown by the alias—then realized that a man in disguise certainly wasn't about to use his own name. "I'm Shea, and my friend is Chalmers."
"Shea and Chalmers—well met." Randhir gave them each a curt nod. "Let us hurry, now! We would be well advised to be clear of this wood while it is still dark!"
"And the sentries sleepy. You are very brave," Chalmers said, coming up on his other side, "but this very night, we have learned an incantation that makes people invisible."
Randhir halted. "Why, so we have! Indeed, I made shift to memorize it as soon as I heard it! But can I remember it now?"
"We should be able to, between the three of us," Shea said, "but will it work if we don't cover ourselves with oil?"
"The coconut oil was to aid the robbers in slipping through tight places," Randhir told him, "and to prevent a man of the Watch from gaining a hold on them. Still, you may be right; we can only attempt it."
"There were gestures that went with it," Chalmers informed him, "like this." He made a circle above his head, then drew his hand flat down in front of his face, palm toward his eyes, and on down along his whole body. "Do that as we recite!"
They all pantomimed as they chanted the words together. They were meaningless, incomprehensible, but Shea felt sure that if he had ever learned Sanskrit, they would be poetry of the highest order. He looked up at Chalmers and Randhir . . .
Just in time to see their forms waver, grow transparent, and disappear. "I can't see you at all!"
"Nor I you," Chalmers' voice answered out of thin air, "nor His Majesty."
Shea looked closely at the space where the rajah had been. Sure enough, he was completely invisible. No, wait . . . there was a gleam of light, a ray, a straight line. . . .
The horsehair. Randhir really ought to do something about that.
Dawn was breaking as they came to the city gate, so they didn't have to wait long until it opened. The invisibility spell had worn off after the first couple of hours, so Shea had no trouble seeing Randhir as he said, very casually, "It would be nice if mere were somebody here who could simply command the porters to open the gate for us."
"It would," the Rajah agreed in a wooden tone.
"But there isn't, of course," Shea sighed. If the guards recognized the "thief" of the night before and heard him issue a royal command, they would run for their lives the second the king was through the gate—and probably keep on running all the way to the ken and warn all the other thieves, too. The king was out to capture them, not just inconvenience them.
So they waited until the gates opened, three travelers among the many who gathered, waiting. When the huge panels swung wide, they poured into the town—and Randhir led Shea and Chalmers unerringly toward the gleaming dome of the royal palace.
As they came up to the gates, Chalmers dropped behind Randhir a few steps and pulled Shea alongside. "He is going to reveal his lofty station to us, Harold. Be suitably impressed."
"Oh! Yes, of course." Shea smiled brightly.
Randhir marched right up to the gates, and the guards stared, amazed at the insolence of the "peasant." Then they clashed their spears together, blocking his way. The Rajah halted and told them, "Summon your captain."
The guards began to look angry, and the older of the two said, "We take no orders from ruffians!"
"You do not know me, then?"
"Know you?" the younger cried. "We have never seen you in our lives."
"That is reassuring." The Rajah took out his knife and cut the horsehair. His nose, freed, swelled back out to its royal proportions, somewhat resembling a cross between an eagle's beak and a seaside promontory. "Do you know me now?" he demanded.
The men stared, then bowed low. "My King and sovereign!"
"I am indeed. Now summon your captain."
One guard ran to call his boss, and Chalmers leaned over to mutter, "Most interesting. He made sure neither had been among the thieves last night, before he risked revealing his identity."
"Very wise," Shea agreed. "Of course, they might have been lying."
"Quite so, but I'm certain it was only double-checking; he would have recognized them if he had seen them last night."
"If he could have," Shea said. "He's got a much better memory for faces than I have."
"Well, yes," Chalmers agreed, "but that would not take much, would it now?"
Shea turned a look of indignation on him. "Well, thank you, Mr. Memory Wizard!"
Chalmers was saved from an answer by the arrival of the guard captain, who took one look at Randhir and blanched. "Seize him," the rajah commanded.
The captain reached for his sword, but the guards managed to react to their surprise fast enough so that it never cleared the scabbard. A spear-point touched his chest, and he froze; then a fist cracked into his jaw, and he folded.
"Chain him in the dungeon," the rajah commanded, "and bind his mouth; make sure he speaks to no one. He is a thief, and has betrayed us all."
As the guards carried the man away, Shea conceded, "I guess he does have a good memory for faces."
"Yes," Chalmers agreed, "but very poor recruiting procedures."
Finally, Randhir turned to Shea and Chalmers. "Now you know whom you have accompanied this evening."
Shea stared and took a step back—right into Chalmers, who muttered, "Pure ham." It was a good thing—Shea had been on the verge of sticking his hands in the air and crying, "I surrender, Sheriff!" Instead, he risked a glance at Chalmers, who was simply staring, pure and simple, then began to tremble ever so slightly.
Randhir saw and smiled, sure of his power and majesty. "Do not be afraid, for we have been comrades in danger. Come with me now, and refresh yourselves."
He turned and marched before them. As they passed through the gates, Shea suddenly became sure of safety, and felt himself go limp—limp with relief, but also weariness.
"Do not relax yet." Chalmers' voice was heavy with exhaustion. "One misstep, and we could still lose our heads."
"That's right—the Rajah has no reason to think we're not foreign thieves." Shea managed to muster a few grams of remaining strength, enough to imagine the Rajah's face swollen with anger and his voice shouting, "Off with their heads!" The result was remarkable—adrenaline surged through him, stiffening his backbone and brightening his eyes. He managed to keep his step brisk as he followed Randhir.
Into the palace they went, but by a side door that led into a room with long tables adorned with knives. For a moment, Shea thought the Rajah had led them to his torture chamber. Then he saw the garbage bins, and realized they were in the kitchens.
The light of dawn showed him an old woman who was snoring in a chair by the window. "Up!" Randhir commanded, but his voice was gentle. The woman's eyes snapped open; she saw the Rajah, and pushed herself painfully to her feet. "Water," Randhir commanded, and the woman hobbled away to dip water from a bucket into a silver bowl. She hung a clean cloth over her arm and brought both to her King. He peeled off false eyebrows and washed his face thoroughly, taking away some of the coloring, then dried it and began work on his moustaches, twisting them down from the corners of his eyes to blend in with his beard. The woman handed him a comb, then went to bring a richly brocaded robe. Randhir combed his parted beard back into one single, well-trimmed mass, then doffed his rough tunic and slipped into the robe the old woman held out for him. He tied a sash about it, then exchanged his black cotton turban for one of purple silk with a peacock's feather held by a golden brooch to the front and turned to face them, magically transformed into the very image of a Hindu king. "Come, friends of my night's adventure! You must tell me what you have seen, so that we have as full an account of this night's work as we may!" But he didn't give them a chance to talk, only led them out of the kitchen and through a narrow hallway into a broad one, then up a broad flight of steps and into a room floored with cool marble and roofed by an azure dome upheld by columns of alabaster. At the far end, on a dais surrounded by more columns, stood a great chair covered with gold. Randhir stepped up and sat in the throne as casually as Shea might sit in his office chair. "Now, my guests! Tell me what you have seen."