blood, tears, and
saliva!
Lethe
or lotu
s,
clear
out
of my brain!
Narcotics all leave me! I’ll welcome the pain!”
The headache hit like a jackhammer, and he instantly regretted making the spell so comprehensive. Still, what had to be, had to be, and the younger priest was stepping forward with his cord tight between his hands. The older priest was only a step behind him, cord swinging down toward the girl’s neck. Matt talked faster than he ever had.
“
Take us
somewhere
blocks from Thuggee
,
where
the best is l
ike the
worst
,
And the
s
treets
are jammed with
people,
with karma blessed
a
nd
cursed,
For the temple
b
ells a
r
e
call
in’
,
and it’s
the
re
th
a
t
we would
b
e,
Free
and
s
tanding
on
the pavement,
out of sight and sound of sea!”
Vertigo seized him, and it was the first time in his life he’d ever been glad of nausea. The spell whirled them clockwise around and away …
… then counterclockwise, and the slab of stone jarred up against his back. The room steadied, and he found himself looking up into the furious face of the older priest.
The man knew some magic of his own, Matt realized. In fact, he was droning in Sanskrit right now, looking smug because he was talking in the sacred language, the old language that only the priests understood anymore.
But Matt’s translation spell was working overtime, and he could understand what the priest was saying—something about tying his tongue and sealing his lips. Couldn’t let that happen! He chanted right back, in English.
“Tongue and lips,
stay
loose, stay loose!
Unlock the
jaw
he’d freeze!
Tet
a
nu
s
be banned
!
I’ve had my
s
hots!
Let his own spell on him seize!”
The priest finished his chant, grinning, and Matt panicked as the pain of cramp bit his tongue and his lips went numb. A second later, though, the pain and numbness were gone, and the priest howled an inarticulate shout as he turned away, bent in agony as his own tongue cramped.
The younger priest stared in shock, then snapped out a verse in Sanskrit, an all-purpose counterspell. The old priest stopped shouting, but could only mumble his thanks as he straightened and turned back to his junior.
Generalities never really did work all that well, Matt decided, but figured he’d better get his licks in before the young priest managed to get specific and really free up his elder‘s vocal apparatus. Matt chanted,
“As
ever the golden bowl be broken
,
Or the leaden coin told by its hue,
Or
th
e
pitcher be smashed
a
t the
cistern,
Let the scarlet cord now break in two!”
The older priest apparently wasn’t waiting to get his spellchecker back in action. With a snarl, he stretched his scarlet cord between his hands and advanced on the girl. Matt was sure the younger priest was doing the same to him, but he didn’t worry about it, only recited,
“Sleeping beauty, wake
and
rise!
No prince here will ope
your eyes,
Only thugs who
’
d
steal your
breath
.
Lass, awake from certain death!”
The girl ‘s eyes fluttered, opened—and saw the contorted face bending over her, the strong arms sweeping down to stretch the garrote across her neck. She screamed and sat up convulsively, but that only made it easier for the priest to wrap the cord around her neck and pull.
It snapped.
The priest stared down at the broken ends in his hand, dumb with shock, just as the younger priest jerked Matt up and wrapped his cord. There was a moment of pain, then a loud snap, and Matt spoke while he could, reciting the escape spell again. The older priest, hearing his voice, turned livid and yanked another strangling cord from someplace, but just as he was stretching it between his hands, Matt shouted,
“
…
out of sight and sound of sea!”
and the vertigo seized him again.
This time, mist seemed to boil up, and he whirled away into it, hoping against hope that the girl was coming with him. Then a smooth, loose surface pressed up against his feet and the mist dissipated, showing him hovels all about him in the dark, and above them in the distance, a gorgeous palace.
His knees gave way, and he sank down in the dirt of the alleyway with a silent prayer of thanks, the more so because he saw the girl in the white robe kneeling a few feet away from him, head bowed, probably trying to choke down nausea.
The world steadied and Matt climbed to his feet, albeit shakily. He started to walk and fell heavily, managing to fall and land on his side. Of course—he’d transported them out of Kali’s temple, but their feet and hands were still bound. He wished for Balkis and her sharp teeth, but since she wasn’t there, he’d have to untie the girl’s bonds himself, then ask her to do the same for him. He just hoped the translation spell would let him speak Hindi as well as understand it.