The stupid beast could stay there all night, as he had for the past three nights. He would pay no attention to him. He needed his sleep.
The elephant was still watching him.
Li Sung muttered a curse and tossed aside his blanket. He moved past the sleeping workers as he stalked toward Danor. "Go away."
The elephant took a step closer to Li Sung.
"Have you nothing better to do than torment me? Go take care of your baby or something."
The elephant made a soft, rumbling sound deep in his throat.
"I do not want you. What use do I have for an elephant?"
Danor's trunk reached out and gently, tentatively, touched his cheek.
"Stop it!" Li Sung stepped back.
Danor stepped forward, his trunk moving caressingly down Li Sung's body.
Togetherness. Affection. Serenity. Li Sung closed his eyes as the same emotions he had experienced that moment in the river surged through him.
"I do not want—" He stopped with a sigh of resignation. "But you do not care what I want, do you? Perhaps you do not want it either. Maybe you do miss your mate. We will have to see if we can't find you another." He touched Danor's trunk. It was rough and leathery, yet oddly comforting, like touching the bark of a tree grown in a beloved childhood garden. "All right, we will try to be friends. It is not impossible we may find a common— no!"
He was lifted high and the next moment deposited on the elephant's back. "This is too much. I did not want you to—"
Togetherness, bonding, and something else . . .
Power.
He had never felt so strong or so complete.
Danor began to walk slowly across the glade toward the herd, his gait smooth, almost rolling. He felt no pain as he did when mounted on a horse or mule, Li Sung realized with amazement. His bad leg was lifted and held at an angle that was without strain. He felt whole again, as he had as a boy before he had become a cripple.
A wild sense of exhilaration flowed through him. He lifted his face and felt the wind touch his cheeks and something else touch his soul. Makhol? It did not seem such a bizarre idea now. He didn't know what bond there was between them, but he knew he had never been more content or alive than at that moment.
"Jane! Wake up!
Li Sung's voice, Jane realized sleepily, but there was something strange . . .
"Jane!"
She came fully awake and the next moment she was off her cot and at the tent entrance. "What's wrong? Is there—"
Li Sung sat on Danor's back just a few yards from her tent. "Li Sung!" she whispered.
"I wanted to share it with you," he said simply.
She didn't have to ask what he had chosen to share. It was all there in his expression—joy, exhilaration, exultation.
"How did it happen?"
"Danor." He patted the elephant's head. "He has great determination."
"I noticed that. You look very comfortable up there."
"It's like nothing . . ." He trailed off. "I can't explain."
"You don't have to." She smiled. "Makhol."
A brilliant smile lit his face, and he suddenly looked younger than the boy who had come to Frenchie's that day so long ago. "Makhol." He touched Danor's left ear, and the elephant turned away from Jane's tent. "We are learning to accommodate each other, but I may have to stay up here all night." He made a face. "I still have not figured out how to tell him I want down. . . ."
His words trailed off as Danor moved back across the clearing toward the herd.
Jane gazed after him for a long time before she let the tent flap fall and turned back to her cot. Tomorrow would be another exhausting day, and she must get some sleep. She was happy for Li Sung. How could she not be happy when he had found something that made him look like that? Nothing had really changed. He had come to share his happiness with her as a good friend would.
She was foolish to feel this aching sense of something lost forever.
"You cannot do it," Pachtal said positively.
"But of course I can." Abdar smiled. "I'm the maharajah."
"You have not been crowned yet. It will be another month before you're free to go to Cinnidar."
"I cannot wait. Your informant said the line is close to completion. Am I to wait until MacClaren has the means to fortify against me?" Abdar turned and gazed at the masks mounted on his wall and murmured, "I must tell Benares to pack up those masks."
"You're taking them with you?" Pachtal asked. "All of them?"
"Of course, and Benares must also come in case I find anyone worthy of Kali on Cinnidar. I will need power to defeat MacClaren."
"You will need an army."
Abdar frowned. "Do you question Kali's power?"
"I do not question," Pachtal said quickly. "I only suggest that Kali might triumph sooner with assistance."
"I agree." Abdar's frown disappeared. "We shall have an army."
"Not until you ascend the throne."
"Why do you argue with me? Do you think I'm not aware of the difficulties? I have thought of a way to solve the problem." Abdar smiled. "Can you not see I am devastated by grief over my father's death? My physician has become so concerned that he insists I must leave the city and seek a change of scene."
Pachtal waited.
"We will announce to my father's mourning subjects that I'm going to Narinth to the summer palace to recover my health."
"And the army?"
"I'll need a large escort to protect me on my journey. Everyone knows that the British colonel would like nothing better than to find a way to oust me from power. If we catch MacClaren by surprise, I will not need more than a few troops. You will arrange to have a ship ready downriver."
"But will these troops follow your orders when they learn you are breaking the mourning and going to Cinnidar instead of Narinth?"
"Oh, I believe they will. Once you point out that when we return from Cinnidar, a month will have passed and I will be eligible to ascend the throne." He paused. "And punish all who displease me."
"It could succeed," Pachtal said slowly.
"It will succeed. The plan was given to me by the divine Kali and she cannot fail."
"And what if Pickering suspects your plan? He is no fool."
"I cannot attend to everything. I will have to rely on Kali to take care of Pickering." He smiled at Pachtal. "Kali . . . and my friend, Pachtal."
"You are joking," he said, startled. "I cannot kill an Englishman."
"Not death. Merely a temporary stomach disorder that will make him too ill to care what I am doing for a few weeks. Is that not possible?"
Pachtal smiled. "Entirely possible."
"Why so quiet?" Ruel filled Jane's coffee cup and his own before sitting down beside her before the fire.
"I don't have anything to say." She sipped the coffee, gazing down into the flames. She was aware of the usual friendly hum of talk around the candmar but felt oddly remote from it. "Do I have to talk all the time?"
"Not all the time. Just when something's wrong. I hate like hell knowing there's something bothering you and not knowing how to fix it. Is it me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The hell you don't," he said roughly. "What did I do?"