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‘Mr Ambrose, don’t-’
‘Stay here!’
And, ripping the door open, he stepped outside, and slammed it shut again behind him.
From one moment to the next, it went deathly quiet outside.
It stayed like that for about two seconds - then the mayhem started. Men bellowed in rage. There was no sense to it, no meaning. Here and there, I caught words like ‘kill’ and ‘skinflint’ or ‘murderer’ - but beyond that, it was just rage erupting from a thousand throats.
‘Blast! We have to get out there! We have to help him!’
Karim stood unmoving as a mountain, both hands resting on his sabre stiffly.
‘The Sahib said to stay.’
‘But-’ I started towards the door. Moving quicker than I would have believed him capable of, Karim grabbed my arm, holding me in place. Wait…was he actually concerned for me?
‘The Sahib said to stay. We must obey.’
Of course not. He was just following orders.
‘Let go of me!’
‘No!’
Outside, I heard Mr Ambrose’s cool voice speaking, audible even over the angry shouts of the crowd. And then, the first stones started flying. One of them crashed through a glass pane, and through the new opening, I saw the glint of metal. They had knives!
Another rock crashed through a window.
‘Let go, you big-bearded buffoon!’
‘The Sahib said to stay. The Sahib has given us an order.’
‘Well, the Sahib can take his order and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine!’
Tearing free of Karim’s grip, I rushed towards the door. I couldn’t stay here! I couldn’t! They would kill him out there - and I was the only one who might prevent it. If I ran out there, if I shielded him with my body… Surely, not even these animals would be so vile as to attack an unarmed woman?
Ripping open the door, I was momentarily blinded by the light of torches and the glint of weapons. But I still heard him, heard his voice trying to rise above the din - and failing. Another rock slammed into the door behind me. Without hesitation, I hurled myself forward, shielding his body with mine.
‘Stop,’ I shouted. ‘Don’t!’
A cold growl erupted from behind me. ‘Mr Linton-!’
‘Don’t worry!’ I panted. ‘I’ve got this! They won’t attack a woman!’
‘Mr Linton! Right now you aren’t-’
It was when the first stone slammed into my stomach that I remembered the thing that the little voice at my mind had been trying to tell me for the last two minutes. The thing that Mr Ambrose had probably wanted to remind me of just then: I was wearing men’s clothes.
‘Oh, blast!’ I said, just before a shower of stones came raining down upon me.
Prop Without the Osal
The first thing I noticed on waking up was that I wanted to die. Probably because of the intense pain that was burning in every inch of my body.
‘Nnnnraaaarg,’ I said.
Or at least something like that. You know, one of those lovely death-groans that murder victims utter just before they’re given the gentle shove into the hereafter?
