The Khyber Connection (TimeWars 6)

The three privates politely doffed their caps to Andre. Ortheris chuckled. “Father Priest, eh? Born to the collar, in a manner o’ speakin’, eh, Father?”

Lucas smiled

. “Only in a manner of speaking,” he said. “My father was a soldier. He had hopes that I would become one as well, but I took vows instead. You might say the name is both a blessing and a curse.”

They took seats at a table in an outdoor tea shop covered by a cloth roof. Ortheris ordered gahwa for them all, a Chinese tea spiced with cardamom seeds, into which Mulvaney poured liberal amounts of whiskey from his flask.

“I take it then that you’re not new to the frontier, sir,” Learoyd said to Delaney.

“I’ve just transferred in from Simia, but I’ve been out here before,” said Finn.”Have you three been here long?”

“All our bloomin’ lives, seems like,” said Mulvaney. He turned to Lucas. “You’ll love it, Father. In the summer the ‘eat’ll blister the skin o’ your back right through your uniform. In the winter it’s cold enough to freeze your bleedin’ ba—er, it’s very cold, sir, I can assure you o’ that.” He cast a sheepish glance at Andre.

“Well, fortunately, Private Mulvaney,” she said, “I lack that especially vulnerable portion of the human anatomy, so perhaps I’ll bear up in this climate.”

Mulvaney looked shocked, and Learoyd threw back his head and laughed. “I believe you will, miss. It takes spirit to survive on the frontier. And you’ll need all the spirit you can muster if you’re off to the high country to mingle with those Pathan heathens.”

“I hope to do something about that,” said Lucas. “We’ve travelled a long way to bring the tribes modern medicine and the Lord’s word.”

“Well, the medicine they might well welcome, I’ll grant you that,” said Learoyd. “As for the Lord’s word, if you’ll forgive my speakin’ bluntly, I think you’re wastin’ your time. Tryin’ to get a Pathan to turn the other cheek would be akin to tryin’ to teach a mule to run at steeplechase.”

“That’s the truth of it, Father,” said Mulvaney. “You give ‘em gold an’ they’ll convert right quick, but they’ll go and reconvert themselves to their butcherin’ ways the minute they take a fancy to, and that minute will come quicker if they suspect you’ve got more gold on you.”

“Let me tell you a bit about these Pathans, Father,” said Ortheris. “They’re the most contrary bunch o’ savages the good Lord ever made, and I’ll be hanged if I can figure why ‘e made ‘em to begin with. Picture this for a pretty creature—a filthy Afghan with the beak of a vulture and eyes like a snarlin’ wolf; a great, shaggy, black beard, and a mouth forever set in cruelty. ‘E’s wearing a blue turban, which like as not hasn’t seen a washin’ in at least a month or two, and a long white robe, all tattered and begrimed. ‘E’s got on baggy trousers tied down at the ankles, and a tunic with charms and whatnot round ‘is neck. Round ‘is waist ‘e’s got a wide sash what ‘olds a pistol and a brace o’ knives long as your arm, as well as one o’ those sharp charra knives like what you’ve seen back in the bazaar. You can drop a lady’s scarf upon one o’ those long blades, an’ it’ll slice it neat as you please. To complete the picture, put a long jezail into ‘is hand and tuck a flower in ‘is ear, and there you ‘ave your pretty rosy Pathan, thorns an’ all. You oughtta see them do their sword dances, leapin’ and caperin’ like dogs tearin’ at a piece o’ meat. Like as not they didn’t prepare you for that lot in the seminary, eh, Father?”

“No, they most certainly did not,” said Lucas. “But I must admit they sound like a fascinating people.”

“They’ll fascinate you with a knife right through your gullet, beggin’ your pardon, Father,” Learoyd said. “Far be it from me to tell a missionary priest his Christian duty; I’ve met enough men of the cloth to know they’ll take the Lord’s word into the jaws of Hell if that’s where they see fit to go, but it’s no country for a woman, Father. If I were you, I’d send Miss Cross here back to Simia, where a lady can be treated like a lady. You’d be doin’ her a favor, and that’s God’s truth.”

“In other words, Private Learoyd,” Andre said, “‘you’re saying that you do not think me fit for such a challenge?”

“No offence, miss,” Learoyd said, “but the Pathan highlands are no place for one of the weaker sex.”

She smiled. “Weaker, Private Learoyd?”

“I do not impute your strength of spirit, miss,” said Learoyd, “I speak of physical strength. It’s a hard land you plan on goin’ to.”

“And you are strong enough to brave the dangers, whereas I am not?” said Andre.

Learoyd grinned. “Well, I’m a man, miss. And dealin’ with the Pathans is a man’s work.”

“Prove it,” she said, setting her elbow on the table in position for an arm wrestle. “Prove I’m weaker than you, and I may reconsider my position.”

Mulvaney roared and slapped the table. “Now that’s what I call spunk!” he said. “Go on, Learoyd, me son, lave a go. It’s as good an excuse to ‘old a lady’s ‘and as any!”

“Surely you’re joking,” said Learoyd.

Andre stared at him deadpan, her hand still held ready to grasp his.

“Come now, miss, I’d be loath to hurt you,” said Learoyd. “This is foolishness. I’m right sorry if I hurt your pride. I’ll take it back now, right?”

“You said you were stronger than I,” said Andre. “I say you’re a liar. Prove you’re not.

“Now, miss,” said Learoyd, clearly annoyed, “that’s no way to talk. Tell her I meant no offence, Father, and we’ll leave it at that.”

Lucas shrugged. “Miss Cross, as I have learned, is a woman of an independent thought and unusual talents. Once she has made her mind up, she will not be dissuaded. You’ve made a statement you purport is true, Private. It appears you’ll have to prove it or have it known you were afraid to.

“What a load of rubbish, said Learoyd. He frowned. “Right, then.” He put up his elbow and grasped Andre’s hand. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, miss. But mind now, you insisted on this. Say when, Mulvaney.”