Path of the Tiger, стр. 430

Bingham fixed William with an eerie stare.

‘These are not mere “wild beasts”, Gisborne. They are something else entirely. Monsters, lad, real, live monsters, the kind spoken of in hushed murmurs in ancient myths and legends, and stories that peasant mothers in the countryside whisper to their offspring in the dead of night. There is more to this world than you can possibly comprehend, no matter what you think you know. But you will come to understand these things soon, you can be sure of that.’

William nodded uneasily.

‘All right sir … although I’m still no’ really sure what you mean. And I’m no’ a hunter myself, an’ no’ much ay a soldier neither. I’m no’ sure why you need me fir this.’

‘It’s simple. You are my escape plan, William. I don’t need you to fight these creatures – I need you to help me escape from them should things go pear-shaped.’

A sudden chill ran down William’s spine, and he shuddered involuntarily.

‘Oh, I see, sir…’

‘If things start to look bad tomorrow – and they might, I’m under no illusions about that – you are to stay near me. I will get on your horse with you, and you will ride like the wind itself to get us out of this place. Do you understand? Forget about the others; their lives do not matter. Especially that fool Kelly. Your loyalty from now on is to me, and me only. Your primary concern is to keep me alive by any means necessary. And that, preferably, will not involve fighting, but rather fleeing as fast as you possibly can on that swift horse of yours. We are not in the army here, and there is no shame in running from a danger that would otherwise end your life. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes sir.’

Bingham transfixed William with a piercing stare, and his eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth curved downwards in a grim frown.

‘Say it then, Gisborne: put in your own words your primary purpose for being here. Tell me what your overriding concern on this mission is.’

‘My overriding concern, sir, is tae keep you alive by any means necessary, the primary an’ most desirable method being rapid flight from the hunt, if it looks like things are starting tae go badly.’

Bingham clasped his hands together, and a pleased smile brightened his craggy visage.

‘Good!’ he exclaimed cheerfully. ‘Good, Gisborne. I am glad we have reached an understanding. Remember, if you serve me well and keep me alive, you will have a very, very bright future ahead of you. Aurora will be yours. I will make it so, I guarantee you this.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Excellent. Then let us return to camp; darkness is falling, and out here the shadows are our enemies.’

***

That night William sat in uneasy quiet in the darkness of the forest, with its undulating waves of strange noises, and its drafts of chilly air snaking through the trees as the currents of cold fled the Himalayas, whose serrated peaks, like the teeth of some gargantuan primordial reptile, tore chunky edges off of the star-white sky. He peered through the gloom at the figure of Kelly, huddled like a caterpillar in his bedroll by the fire, grumbling to himself in the centre of the camp, and couldn’t help but feel as if he was about to betray him. Why, though, did he feel this unquestioning loyalty to the man? It seemed clear now, after Bingham had explained it to him, that Kelly had been manipulating him all along. Why hadn’t he been able to see this before? Had his dependence on the opium really dulled his wits to such a degree? Had it really caused his senses to deteriorate to the extent that he had become completely unable to see that he was being used and cheated by a charlatan, a devil masquerading as a friend and a benefactor? This man, who claimed to be acting in his interests, actually only had one person’s interests at heart: his own.

Anger rippled hotly through William’s system, and he glared at the prostrate form of Kelly and growled, balling his hands into tight fists.

‘I know what you’ve been after now, Niall,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I know who you really are now. And when tomorrow comes … aye, when tomorrow comes, lad, you’ll find tha’ I’ve seen the light, an’ tha’ I owe nothing more tae you. Nothing more at all. No more “master”, Niall, no, no. I’m done wi’ you. Good luck surviving out here on your own, you scoundrel; your lies willnae get you very far in this forest. No’ very far at all.’

William took the chillum pipe that the porters had lent him and packed it with some of the dried ganja that they so readily shared. He lit it up, and the open end of the pipe glowed fiercely against the inky night as he pulled deeply on it. He held the strong, pungent smoke in his lungs for as long as he could, and then exhaled it in a great puff of grey vapour that fled the campsite through the network of trees. William then lay back on his bedroll and stared up through the gaps in the black canopy at the stars above, and thought back to another night beneath a star-heavy sky. A night in which he had not been alone, a night in which he had not been a prisoner of dreams and memories and regrets, a night in which only one force had existed: the force of love, as deep and infinite as the convex bowl above him with its countless jewels and unfathomable boundlessness.

‘It will be, once again,’ he murmured to himself as the drug began to take hold on his mind, sinking his body into his bedroll with a super-gravitational force that was at once both immensely relaxing and somehow invigorating. He smiled to himself, pulled the portrait out of his grimy jacket – he had kept it with him all this