The bound man was Indian, tall and thin with a long white beard. His head slumped against his chest. He wore a simple white cloth and shivered in the cold. There were scars and welts on his body and he was covered in dried blood.
Walker approached the prisoner, dragging something in his steel grip. The burden was another monk, still alive but barely so. Simon and the others couldn’t hear what was being said, but the intention was clear. Walker shook the monk like a rag doll, furiously growling down at the bound man. Then through the thin air, Simon heard a sharp voice ring clear.
“The Stone! Where is it?”
The bound man shook his head. Walker tightened his grip on the monk’s neck. The holy man thrashed. At first Simon thought he was trying to get free, but then the monk pulled a kris knife from his robe and thrust the wavy blade triumphantly into Walker’s chest. Oil and green fluid spewed forth. Walker jerked, and for a moment, Simon thought the monk’s desperate gamble had been successful. Then Walker crushed the monk’s neck in his hand. When he tossed the dead man aside, the body went one way and the head went another. The bound man slumped.
“Damn me! Let’s go.” Simon rose to his feet, getting ready to move forward to save Walker’s prisoner.
“Miss Anstruther!” a voice hissed from behind them. “Do not move.” On the far side of a small covered platform, an elderly Indian man crouched. His bright blue eyes shone with alarm. He was tall and thin with a long white beard. He wore nothing more than a simple thin white dhoti, which seemed incredible in the frigid air.
Simon spun on the old man, sparking a tattoo to call forth his strength.
The man who had beckoned to Kate raised a cautioning hand, and whispered, “You are a few feet from one of the hunter’s traps. Come toward me. You’re fortunate not to have been killed on your way across the city.”
Kate raised her crossbow. She twisted her head to look at the old man, face clouded in confusion. “That man there tied to the column, are you his twin brother?”
“No. I am the man you see bound there. He is Ishwar. As am I.” The old man gestured for them to follow. “Hurry! This way. One of the hunter’s spies may see us.”
Kate looked to Hogarth for confirmation. The manservant studied the elderly man, and said cautiously, “It has been many years, but he certainly resembles the Shri Ishwar I remember.”
She hissed to the stranger, “What are you playing at?”
The old man came out from behind his protection and scurried toward them. His voice was hushed. “I’m afraid the hunter captured me yesterday, just after I contacted you. He knows me; knows I am connected to Sir Roland. So he believes I know where the Stone is hidden. He has been torturing me quite mercilessly. But it is becoming difficult to be elsewhere. If you don’t steal the Stone away very soon, knowing myself quite well, I may falter and tell him where it is.”
Nick snarled, “What the hell is that crazy old fakir talking about? This lunatic is the Ishwar we came to find?”
The elderly man glowered at Nick, then turned back to Kate. “If you care to observe, Miss Anstruther, I will explain.” He quivered and grew very still. His wrinkled skin darkened like soil. The contours of muscles and joints grew rough and indistinct. The man transformed into a lifeless, vaguely man-shaped pile of mud.
“Holy Mother,” Kate exclaimed.
“Is it a golem?” Simon stared at the muck that used to be Ishwar without touching it.
“No, I think it’s vivimancy,” Nick said, impressed. “Looks like he’s mastered vitalism. I was wrong. He’s no crazy old fakir.”
Kate tore her stunned gaze from the glistening mound of mud and raised the spyglass. The figure tied to the distant stone column had his head slumped against his chest. As Kate watched, he lifted his face. He nodded toward her in desperation. It was clearly Ishwar. She turned back to watch the mud on the ground re-form into the shape of the elderly magician.
Ishwar blinked his shining eyes at Kate as if waking from a pleasant nap. “There isn’t much time. You must seize the Stone and take it away.”
“Where is it?” Kate asked.
“I will take you.” Ishwar motioned them to follow and walked toward a small temple behind him.
Kate exchanged a glance with Simon. They didn’t hesitate and strode after Ishwar. Nick grumbled, obviously ill at ease with the whole situation.
As Ishwar led them inside, Simon looked at the stonework around them. “Is it in here?”
“No.” Ishwar took the arm of a carved god on the wall and pulled it. A portion of the floor pivoted down to reveal a dark tunnel into the ground. “This route will save us from being unfortunately skewered.”
“Wait a damn second.” Nick fixed Simon with a look of incredulity. “Are you just going to trust this man?”
Simon started into the tunnel. “It’s either him or the metal man and his death traps outside.”