[Blood of the Goddess 01] Goa by Dalkey Kara

Author:Dalkey, Kara [Dalkey, Kara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor
Published: 1996-08-15T18:06:57+00:00

XIV

ASAFETIDA: This resin is of a russet color, and comes from fennel thrown in Persia. It is most notable for its foul smell and bitter taste. Some call it Devil’s Dung. Yet it hath been used in the East as a spice, and there is called food of the gods. Powdered asafetida will cure fits and ailments of the stomach. Worn in an amulet about the neck, it is said to ward off disease and witchcraft….

Thomas paid little attention to where he was led until they approached a large outcropping of rock at the edge of the city. An iron gate blocked an opening within it. Three more soldados stood guard at the gate. As his captors bantered with the gatekeepers, Thomas noticed a noisome odor drifting out of the narrow, cavernlike entrance. Does some unwashed oracle await within, to riddle me my future?

At last, a soldado unlocked the gate and Thomas was shoved inside. He stumbled down a dark, sloping tunnel, trying to hold his breath as the odor became stronger. His captors held kerchiefs over their noses, but did not offer one to Thomas.

He turned a corner and fell against another barred gate of iron. The chamber beyond was dim, filled with manshaped shadows. The stench was overpowering: a fetid mixture of excrement, urine, sweat, every effluvium of mankind, rotting plants, and decaying flesh. Thomas coughed, fighting nausea.

The bars swung away from him and Thomas fell forward, toppling over a ledge. He landed on his side on a stone floor that was slimy and reeking. He rolled to his knees and retched unrelentingly. All that came up was sour liquid. Yet his stomach heaved so violently, he feared he might disgorge the very organs from his body. What an ignoble manner it would be in which to die.

He thought of all the stomach-ease medicines on Master Coulter’s shelves: mint and narcissus, hawflower tea, peach twig syrup. All far away and useless. But the thought seemed to lessen the spasms and Thomas became aware of people close around him, fingers poking at his hair, his breeches, his feet. He heard soft laughter, and men talking in different tongues. Someone beside him said, “Bem-vindo, estranho. Bem-vindo a Aljouvar.”

I need not wait for death to enter Hell, thought Thomas. I am already there.

Someone shouted the others aside and grasped Thomas’s shoulders, helping him to stand. In broken Latin the Samaritan said, “Breathe fast, friend. Like a dog in summer. It will help. Come.”

Thomas panted as he was led to a wall and leaned against it. Faint light streamed in from unseen cracks in the rock overhead, and he began to see a little of his surroundings. Thomas turned to thank his benefactor and started. Beside him was a face dark as the ebony masks of Africa, a Hindu face with broad nose and brown eyes.

“Good,” the Hindu said. “You feel better now?”

“I do,” Thomas managed to say. “Thank you, stranger.” Working at Thomas’s bonds, the Hindu said, “Your hands are free now.

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