“I’ll take them today, if they wish.” She waited for a response, and they both tripped over the words.
“Oh, that’s—”
“If it’s not a bother—”
“All right.”
Meena raised a sleek eyebrow. Danny could tell she was enjoying this. The officers looked uncomfortable, with the exception of Harris, who was simply amused.
“I’ll make arrangements,” Meena said over her shoulder, turning to leave.
When she was gone, Crosby scoffed. “Sir, shouldn’t we find someone else? Remember that there have been riots. Kamir was qualified to go with them, and he’s experienced.”
“Miss Kapoor is also experienced,” Dryden said.
“She’s just a girl!”
“That’s enough, Lieutenant.” The Major turned to Danny and Daphne. “Are you two comfortable with the arrangements?”
They stole a look at each other, then nodded.
“Then that settles it. Miss Kapoor will take you to Khurja. Please make any necessary notes and report back to me this evening.”
What’s a punkah wallah?” Danny asked once they’d left the building.
“I’m not sure.”
“You mean the great Daphne Richards doesn’t know something? I’m shocked.”
Before Daphne could retort, a familiar voice said, “It means rope puller.”
Meena stood off to the side, a small smile on her face. She was shorter than both of them by nearly a foot.
“Oh.” Danny scratched the back of his neck, which, despite the punkah wallah, was tickling with sweat. Danny again felt an alarming ignorance in this place. This was a land he had only read about in the safety of his home. There was so much he didn’t know.
Looking closer, Danny noticed a small red dot in the very center of Meena’s forehead. Danny knew about this, at least; he had read about it in one of his books, in a section on the Hindu religion. Some Indian women wore these vermilion marks to show that they were married, or simply for religious purpose. Something about opening chakras.
“I’ve arranged for my brother to take us to Khurja,” Meena continued, leading them away.
“Is your brother a soldier?” Daphne asked.
“He is not a sepoy, but often takes commissions from the army.”
Danny could see more of the city when they left the low stone enclosure of the cantonment. The Taj Mahal presided over Agra, resplendent in the late morning sun. Meena followed his gaze.
“I will show you the city, if you like. Later.”
“We would appreciate that very much,” Daphne said.
Meena looked her up and down. “There are not many women around here. The wives of the soldiers don’t dress as you do.”
“I didn’t bring any dresses or skirts, if that’s what you mean.”
“All the same to me.” Meena slyly glanced at Danny. “But this one might not like you attracting so much attention.”
Danny coughed. “We’re not together.”
“I’m not exactly his type,” Daphne drawled. The underlying meaning was transparent to Danny, but seemed lost on Meena, who hummed in surprise.
“So sorry. I just assumed.”
For some reason, Danny felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. He wished he had brought along Colton’s picture. Even if he couldn’t look at it in public, having it in his pocket would have given some comfort.
When he saw what waited for them down the road, Danny skidded to a halt. “No,” he said. “No, no, no.”
“What’s the matter?” Meena asked.
Daphne looked at the small, gray aircraft sitting on a crude tarmac. “Danny’s not good with heights, I’m afraid. Especially after the incident yesterday.”
“It’s the fastest way to Khurja. Driving would take more time, and the major wants us back by sundown.” Meena studied Danny, curiosity and exasperation dancing in her eyes. “It will be a short trip, Daniel Hart.”
“Danny,” he mumbled.
“Then, Danny, come and meet my brother. He will show you what a good pilot he is.”
Danny didn’t have any qualms about her brother’s abilities. It was the possibility of falling from a very great height that he took issue with.
The aircraft was larger than a single-pilot plane, but smaller than the carrier they had used to escape the Notus. There were two seats in the cockpit and four seats behind, fitted along the sides, plus a little room for cargo. The wings were pointed up at the ends, with propellers positioned underneath. Danny looked for the familiar symbol of Caelum and caught no sight of it. Instead, along the side of the hull, Devanagari letters had been painted in red:
A young Indian man stood leaning against the plane, grinning as they approached. He was about Daphne’s height, half an inch taller than Danny. His black hair had been combed neatly to his ears, and his dark, full eyebrows rose slightly over clever brown eyes. He was dressed in a tan jumpsuit with mud-splattered boots and aviator goggles hanging around his neck.
He greeted his sister in Hindi. She replied with something that was much longer than hello. He nodded in response, but gave no hint of whatever Meena was gossiping to him about.
“This is Akash, my brother,” Meena said. “As I said, he is not a soldier, but uses his plane for small missions.”
“My own plane, too. Not a gift from the army.” Akash patted the hull fondly. His words were clear and low, with a slight burr on his d’s and r’s.
“Akash, this is Daniel—I’m sorry, Danny—Hart, and Daphne Richards.”
“Aha. I read those names on the luggage I found on the airship.” Akash stuck out his hand, a startlingly British gesture. Danny was the first to shake the boy’s hand, yet with Daphne, Akash raised the backs of her fingers to his lips. She turned bright scarlet.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“You are a lady. I cannot shake a lady’s hand, Miss Richards.”
“Please just call me Daphne.” She tugged her hand back and seemed to not know what to do with it.
Meena, struggling not to smile, lightly kicked her brother’s shin. “Get in and fly us to Khurja.”
“Er, wait.” Danny held up his hands. “Are you sure I can’t take an auto? Because, really, it would be no bother.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Hart.” Akash gestured to the red lettering above his head. “The Silver Hawk has never failed me. We’ll be there in an hour, and it will be a smooth ride.”
“It’ll be fine, Danny,” Daphne whispered. But he heard a small tremor in her voice. The memory of the Notus had left her nervous, too.
Danny took a deep breath and nodded.
Meena clapped her hands once. “No more dawdling! Chalo.”
Akash snapped to attention. “Haan!” He climbed the ladder, and Meena followed behind, advising the others to mind their heads.
Once in the aircraft, Akash shut the door and jumped into the pilot’s seat. “Strap yourselves in, please. No standing until I say it’s safe.”
Danny’s hands shook too badly to buckle his harness, so Daphne had to do the fastening for him. Embarrassed, he sat back and closed his eyes. The engine roared to life and the propellers whirred, rattling the metal hull all around them. The plane took off with a sudden lurch that turned Danny’s stomach into a fitful balloon. He tried to hide a moan under the noise.