“Brahman and a Lama keeping company? That’s strange.”
“I’d call it suspicious, if you asked me, sir! What’s he doing here? He’s not even sitting on a mat. That corner’s ritually unclean—fouled by dogs and God knows what else.”
“I’ll try him in the vernacular.—I’m curious to know why you are sitting here,” said the man with spurs. “Is there anything wrong? Are you ill? Can I help you in any way?”
“Leave me to my meditation!” Ommony answered in a surly tone of voice.
“Why meditate just here, O twice-born? This is a bad place—dangerous—thieves, you know. Don’t you think you’d better move on?”
Ommony was in doubt whether or not to answer, but he was afraid Diana might betray her presence unless he could get rid of the inquisitors. He made up an answer on the spur of the moment and growled it indignantly:
“A year ago my son died on this very spot, slain by a bullet from a soldier’s rifle. Therefore I choose this place to meditate. I abase myself in dirt before the gods who visited that evil on me.”
“Damned unlikely story, sir, if you asked me!”
“Everything in this damned country is unlikely! Have him watched. You’d better stand at that corner, and if he moves off, have one of the men follow him. I’ll go back and send you twenty or thirty men to surround the place.—Good night, O twice-born! Meditate in peace!”
Ommony listened until their footsteps died away in the near distance. Then, taking very great care that Diana should understand she was still stalking danger, not defying it, he crept on tiptoe to the gate at the other end of the alley and drummed on it with his knuckles.