Chapter 6

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'The burden of my people lies heavily on my shoulders, but it lies heavier on the man sent to save us.'  

The Maharajah Sadar Azad Shahab Muzaffar Muhi-ud-Din Aurangzeb  

They left the passage way with its long creeping shadows and eerie noises to enter a welcoming high ceilinged anti-room brightly lit by two flared copper gas burners that hissed intermittently to each other like two giant cobras deep in animated conversation. Two guards stood on either side of a pair of imposing mahogany doors each interwoven with an exquisitely worked mosaic of alabaster jade and silver plate.  

Azad paused at the door and turned to Daedalus. 'Daedalus, my father is not what you remember. The drought, it's turned him into a shell of the man you once knew. He has spent his fortune trying to reverse its effects. Cloud making machines, deep water bores, madcap iceberg schemes, we've seen it all. New Delhi must have been visited by every huckster and fraudster imaginable to con him out of his gold and precious stones. He's not worn well with time these recent years, his eyesight is poor and his memory comes and goes so he may appear confused at times. He is still proud but I'm afraid he's given up hope. I commissioned the tiger to bring him out of his remorse. One last gift from his son before his father goes to meet his Maker.'  

'My friend, don't talk like that.' Daedalus rested has hand gently on his Azad's shoulders. 'There's always hope.'  

'Come then, let's raise a little cheer. He'll be overjoyed to see you after so long.' Azad turned and knocked gently on the door.  

The door opened a crack and an unblinking eye, a black pearl set in a boiled egg, peered uneasily through gap at them. The eye withdrew, the door opened and a slight figure of an elderly man slipped through to greet them.  

'Why Doctor Krane it's you! A most unexpected surprise. It's been, I don't know how many years since you've graced our presence. How are you sir?' He held out a frail hand found it enveloped in Daedalus's bear like grasp.  

'I'm fine Beetleback and you? Still keeping his lordship in fine fettle I'll warrant.'  

Beetleback, bent, balding with long bushy eyebrows, short beaky nose and an impossibly thin gangly body was attired in an ill fitting black morning suit worn shiny with age. His deportment, a conjunction of an oversized owls head grafted to the crooked body of a Secretary bird suggested a failed taxidermy experiment. Yet for all this his face appeared generous and open. He warmly shook Daedalus hand. 'Sir, a pleasure as always.'  

His looked them up and down taking in their condition with his keen sharp eyes and offered to take Flo's jacket which she accepted and a physician to look at Daedalus's arm which he declined. 'Come in, come in. You're most welcome. He'll be overjoyed to see you.'  

He pushed opened the door and ushered them in.  

Immediately their senses were overwhelmed. The room was stiflingly hot , full of the pungent smell of burning camphor wood and a heady mix of sandalwoods and cassia emanating from the incense burners scattered about the room. The walls hung thick with tapestries and a multitude of richly patterned carpets floated over each other across the floor  

The Maharajah Sadar Azad Shahab Muzaffar Muhi-ud-Din Aurangzeb, skin creased like a rusted autumnal maple leaf, dark eyes blackberries after a summer shower, reclined on a divan pulled up in front of a slow crackling fire. His long white beard cascaded over a deeply patterned robe tied loosely at the waist from which protruded a pair of finely made purple silk slippers. Curled at his feet slumbering in the warmth of the fire lay an ebony coloured leopard cub.  

Hearing their entrance the leopard raised its head, fur glistening like black amethyst glass in the fire light and gazed at them through heavy moonstone pupils floating on molten gold before dropping his head on the Maharajahs feet and slipping back into a lethargic sleep.  

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