The Great Ellini (Book One of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Sixty Four: Demonic

In the Lieutenant-governor's suite at the Chattar Manzil, Ellini listened to Jack drifting off to sleep, and then got out of bed, ducking through the curtained doorway which led to the dressing room. Violet was in there, arranging flowers in a vase, and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

"This is more like it," she said, casting an approving eye over the tiled floor, the plump cushions, the wooden furniture patterned with gold inlay. "No more camping out in tents in the middle of a mosquito-infested jungle. No more trying to sleep in a covered wagon with hundreds of soldiers spitting and pissing in the road outside. We're going up in the world, mistress."

Ellini gave her an absent-minded smile and sat down at the dressing table, glancing almost nervously at her own reflection.

In the light of the paraffin-lamps, she was blushing and bright-eyed. This was going to be one of those nights where ideas occurred to her thick and fast, and she wouldn't be able to bear the thought of going to sleep.

It didn't help that the entire city was in a state of heightened excitement. The victorious soldiers had lit dozens of campfires out in the streets, and were gathered round them, singing their traditional, dirty songs. Violet was periodically shuddering at the lyrics.

And then there was the strange, beautiful skyline visible through the windows. In the firelight, she could see the silhouettes of the Bara Imambara, and the Jama Masjid Mosque, with all their glorious domes and pencil-thin minarets. It was almost too beautiful to bear.

"Is the General asleep?" asked Violet, picking up a silver-backed hairbrush and brushing Ellini's hair.

She nodded. "He was exhausted."

"Not so exhausted that he neglected to have you brought to his bed, I notice."

"Oh, he'd have to be dying before he neglected that."

"Humph," said Violet, tugging her hair with the hairbrush slightly harder than she would normally have done. "They lose interest in a few years, you know. Although, since you'll be dead in a few years, maybe he won't have the chance."

Ellini laughed. "There you are, you see? There's always a silver-lining if you look hard enough."

But Violet couldn't be knocked out of her gloomy trajectory. "Have you told him yet? About that book of prophecies?"

"He's had a lot on his plate just now."

That, at least, couldn't be argued with, so Violet settled for maintaining a disapproving silence. She put down the hairbrush and went back to her flowers. Ellini watched while she arranged marigolds, musk roses, foxtail lilies and orchids in the vase—with some sprays of jasmine for greenery.

Although Jack thought he had already located Violet's special gift—in the elaborate paranoia that powered all her actions—Ellini wouldn't have been surprised if she had another one in the art of flower-arranging. She shuffled the stems and blooms about with forceful spite, but they always looked wonderful when she'd finished. And she took such pride in these arrangements that she was always stung if people walked by them with no comment.

Ellini tried to encourage her as often as she could remember, but she needed no prompting tonight.

"That's very pretty, Violet. Put it in the bedroom, will you, so Jack can see it when he wakes up?"

She didn't know how to take a compliment, though. She smiled very briefly and then said, "Oh, he won't appreciate it. He never notices my flowers."

Still, she picked up the vase and carried it through to the bedroom. Ellini, who'd been watching her back in the mirror, saw her suddenly freeze, and heard a short, sharp scream accompanied by the crash of breaking porcelain.