"No one would pay anyattention to the orders of a chink." He flushed defiantly as he saw theexpression on her face. "Well, they wouldn't."
"No more than they woulda woman," she agreed. "But he can watch and report if we're beingcheated by the subcontractor you hired to do the work." She stood up andbegan to stack the dishes on the table. "Try to eat a little, or you'llhave a bad head in the morning."
"Later." Patricklifted the glass to his lips and she knew he'd leave the meal untouched."That friend of the prince's came with the maharajah."
She stiffened."Pachtal?"
Patrick nodded. "Seems apleasant enough fellow. He said to give you his regards."
"Really?" She triedto make her tone noncommittal. "Did he say anything else?"
"No." Patrick made aface. "The maharajah said it all. He wanted to know where his locomotivewas and when we'd finish laying the track."
"You told him thelocomotive would arrive in a few days?"
"If the damn boat doesn'tsink to the bottom of the river with it," Patrick said gloomily. "Itwould be just our luck. Nothing else has gone right on this job." Hebrightened. "At least, he'll be pleased with the locomotive. It's going tosport so much brass, he'll well nigh be blinded by it."
Her gaze flew to his face."How could we afford to do that? We barely had enough cash left to affordthe engine itself."
"I managed to cut a fewcorners." Patrick didn't look at her as he sipped his whiskey. "Themaharajah likes a little flash and glitter, and we need to keep himsweet-tempered."
"That's trueenough." She stood looking at him, frowning. "What corners?"
He waved a vague hand. "Ijust eliminated a part here and there. Nothing important."
"You're sure?"
"I said so, didn'tI?" Patrick's tone turned testy. "I've been a railroad man since Iwas a lad of fourteen, Jane. I think I know what I'm doing."
"I just wanted tobe—"
"It's too hot inhere." Patrick pushed back his chair, stood up, and grabbed his glass andbottle. "I'm going out on the veranda, where it's cooler."
And where there were notroublesome questions to make him uncomfortable, Jane thought as she watchedhim walk toward the door leading to the screened veranda. His step was a littleunsteady, but he wasn't staggering, which meant he probably hadn't beennoticeably inebriated during his interview with the maharajah and Pachtal.
Pachtal. Both his presence andhis message were obviously meant as a warning that she had not been forgottenby Abdar. During the past two weeks she had been scrupulously careful not toleave the encampment. Abdar must be seething with frustration, she mused. Shesmiled with grim satisfaction as she carried the dishes to the kitchenadjoining the dining room.
The tall, sari-clad servantwoman was in the process of scraping bits of chicken into Sam's bowl andstraightened with a guilty smile as Jane entered the kitchen. "I know thedog is not supposed to be in here, but I thought only this once?"
"It's all right, Sula.Just don't let the sahib see him."
Sula nodded. "The mealpleased you, memsahib?"
"Very good." Janegave her an abstracted smile as she set the dishes on the countertop. She thenbent and patted the dog's silky head. Perhaps she shouldn't be so complacentabout Pachtal's visit, when it might have signaled the end of the waiting gameAbdar had been playing. She had meant to visit Zabrie before this and ask herto set up a way for Kartauk to leave the city, but the pressure of work hadcaused her to ignore everything but the laying of the track. She should reallygo see the woman tonight.
No, not tonight. She couldfeel the cold lethargy of exhaustion dragging at every limb. Why did she careanyway? Li Sung was right; Kartauk was using her as much as she had used him.But it made no difference; she did care. She had never been able to bear theidea of cruelty to the helpless—though the idea of Kartauk being helpless wasironic. Yet while Abdar held the power in Kasanpore, Kartauk was without—
Dear heaven, her mind must beas weary as her body to meander like this. She would wash up and go to bed andtry not to think of Abdar, his father, Kartauk, or the monumental pressure ofthe work waiting for her tomorrow.
As she crossed the living roomon the way to her bedroom she heard Patrick humming to himself on the veranda.For a moment she felt a flicker of fierce resentment. He was happily drowninghis worries in his bottle of whiskey, leaving her to solve their problems.
"Jane?" Patrickcalled.
She stopped but did not turntoward the veranda. "Yes?"
"I meant it about youstaying in bed tomorrow." His tone was soft, caressing, almostaffectionate. "We can't have you falling ill again. Whatever would I dowithout you?"
Jane's resentment vanished. Hedidcare about her and God knows he needed her. "I won't be ill.I'm just a little tired."
