Singular Hostage by Thalassa Ali

Author:Thalassa Ali [Ali, Thalassa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Historical Fiction, British, War & Military, War Stories, Auckland; George Eden, Eden; Emily, British - India, Ranjit Singh, India, Eden; Frances, India - History - 19th Century, Afghan Wars
ISBN: 9780553381764
Publisher: Bantam Books
Published: 2001-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

MARIANA sat on the edge of her bed, her thoughts spinning. With everyone looking for Saboor, how long would it be before he was found and handed over like a lost parcel to the horrid old Maharajah—to die of grief and neglect while she stood helplessly by?

But she would not stand helplessly by. Within hours of the discovery, she would be on her way to Calcutta in utter disgrace. The Maharajah, claiming bad faith, would no doubt refuse to sign the treaty. Unable to establish supply lines or move troops across his territory, the British would then be forced to abandon their plan for Afghanistan. Unable to put their own puppet king on the Afghan throne, what chance would they then have of controlling Central Asia?

Everyone would blame her.

She dropped her face into her hands and let out a little howl of terror.

Who would betray them? Who knew of Saboor's presence in her tent? Did the sweeper know? Had he heard Saboor's voice while he was emptying her chamber pot? Had he overheard her talking to Dittoo? What of her palanquin bearers? They had already had the chance to see Saboor on three occasions. What of Dittoo's friends at his cooking fire? Had they guessed the identity of the child Dittoo slept with each night?

And what of the mysterious people who also knew, but had not revealed themselves?

She stood and began to pace the fioor. There must be something she could do to keep Saboor's presence in the camp a secret. She must not allow herself to panic. Dittoo had certainly been correct to disguise him as a lost village child. That disguise could work. It must work.

Scuffiing outside interrupted her whirling thoughts, and there was Saboor, rolled in his torn tartan gown and tucked under Dittoo's arm, chirping with delight as the blind dropped shut behind them, wriggling to get down, already reaching for her.

“What has happened, Memsahib?” Dittoo asked, his own face turning from warm brown to dusky gray.

“The English sahibs have guessed,” she replied as Saboor wrapped his arms about her neck. “They have guessed that Saboor is here in camp—Lord Auckland says everyone is to search for him.”

Dittoo put his tongue out in dismay, then smiled. “But then, Memsahib,” he rejoined happily, “you have only to perform your magic and all will be well, is that not so?”

“No, Dittoo, it is not so,” she snapped. “Don't be idiotic.”

Hearing her tone, the child on her hip looked up, then laid a small sticky, calming hand on her cheek.

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