The Final Storm

16. Long Live the Rebellion!

"Hey, you! What are you doing there?"

The shout from behind me made me whirl around so fast my beard almost fell off. Emphasis on "almost", fortunately, because, when I had fully turned around, I came face-to-face with three bearded Indians armed with pitchforks. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they would not have appreciated the sudden revelation of my real identity. Especially the biggest one at the front who had just spoken, with the biggest beard and the pointiest pitchfork.

Oops.

Seems like we should answer this gentleman's question.

The only problem was...how?!

Leaning towards Adaira, I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, "Well? Suggestions! What am I supposed to say?"

"How the heck should I know?! I don't even have a clue what he asked! I don't speak their language, remember?"

Oh, right. Fiddlesticks. So, answering was up to me, was it? Preferably answering in a way that wouldn't get me skewered.

"We...um...we..." I stalled. Karim wasn't doing much better. As for Mr Rikkard Ambrose's standard approach? Silence wasn't doing much to help!

"Yes?" the biggest of the men growled in his native language, taking a menacing step forward. "You what?"

"We came to fight against the British!" I blurted out.

The man stopped in his tracks and stared at me. Judging by the eyes I felt boring into my back from the direction of my travelling companions, he wasn't the only one.

"Fight the British?" he demanded.

"Errr...yes, yes." Squaring my shoulders, I tried my best to exude a confident, manly aura. "We heard about the fighting around here. Rumours of people rising up against those blasted British tyrants have been flying around everywhere these last few weeks." My face scrunched up in disgust as I tried my best to convey my revulsion for those brutal British imperialists that I happened to be part of. Honestly, it wasn't that hard. "So we came to see if there are some of those bloody redcoats to deal with here!" Slamming my fist into the air, I struck my best patriotic pose for the wrong country. "Down with the British! To hell with those filthy swine!"

For a moment, absolute silence reigned over the clearing. From behind, I could practically feel Mr Ambrose's icy gaze drilling into my neck.

"Join up to fight up against the British, hm?" The big stranger cocked his head. "That's what you want to do?"

"Oh yes!" Nodding hurriedly, I nudged Adaira in the ribs. "Isn't that right?"

Adaira opened her mouth—then closed it again as she remembered at about the same time as me that, unlike myself, she did not speak Punjabi. In the end, she settled for nodding energetically.

"See?" I beamed. "Those tea-guzzling gits deserve to be strung up by their guts and strangled to death!"

"I could not agree more." Karim nodded solemnly, his lips twitching ever so slightly. "Over the last few years, there were various British people I repeatedly wished to strangle, two in particular. Too bad I never got the chance." He glanced over at Mr Ambrose. "What do you say, Sa...ehem, Satish?"

The newly named Satish gave his bodyguard a look that made clear who was going to get a pay cut this month. Then he pried his jaw open.

"Naturally. All Britons are evil to the core and deserve to be punished." His gaze bored into me. "Some more so than others."

The big, bearded stranger scrutinised us for a moment longer—then threw back his head and started laughing. "Ha! Good, good! Mwahahaha! Come here, my compatriot!"