Sheere shook her head.
‘I see that the education your grandmother has given you is poorer than I expected. A father simply can’t be replaced …’
He opened the basket and plunged his fist inside, his eyes glittering maliciously. When his hand emerged, it was holding the sinuous shining body of a snake. An asp.
‘This is the animal that most resembles humans. It crawls and sheds its skin when it needs to. It will steal the young of other species from their own nests and eat them but is incapable of confronting them in a clean battle. Its speciality, however, is to seize every possible opportunity to deliver its lethal bite. The asp has only enough poison for one bite and it needs hours to recover, but whoever is bitten is condemned to a slow and certain death. As the poison penetrates the veins, the heart of the victim beats slower and slower, until eventually it stop: even in its vicious nature, this small beast has a certain fondness for poetry, just like human beings, although the asp, unlike man, would never attack its own kind. That’s a mistake, don’t you think? Maybe that’s why they’ve ended up as street entertainment for fakirs and spectators – they aren’t quite on a par with the king of creation.’
Jawahal held the snake in front of Sheere and the girl pressed herself against the wall. He smiled with satisfaction as soon as he saw the look of terror in her eyes.
‘We always fear what resembles us most. But don’t worry,’ Jawahal reassured her. ‘This one’s not for you.’
He picked up a red wooden box and put the snake inside it. Sheere breathed more easily once the reptile was out of sight.
‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘We’re going to play a little game,’ Jawahal explained. ‘We have guests tonight and we have to provide them with entertainment.’
‘Which guests?’ asked Sheere, praying that Jawahal wouldn’t confirm her fears.
‘Your question is superfluous, dear Sheere. Please reserve your queries for matters you really don’t understand. For example, will our friends see the light of day? Or how long does it take for a kiss from my little friend to slow down the heart of a healthy sixteen-year-old? Rhetoric teaches us that these are questions with meaning and structure. If you don’t know how to express yourself, Sheere, you don’t know how to think. And if you don’t know how to think, you’re lost.’
‘Those are my father’s words,’ Sheere said accusingly. ‘He wrote them.’
‘Then I see we’ve both read the same books. What better way of starting an eternal friendship, dear Sheere?’
Sheere listened to Jawahal’s little speech, never taking her eyes off the red wooden box that held the asp, imagining its scaly body writhing about inside. Jawahal raised his eyebrows.
‘Now, you must excuse me if I leave you for a few moments. I need to add the final touches to the welcome for our guests. Please be patient and wait for me. It will be worth your while.’
Jawahal grabbed Sheere again and led her to a tiny cubicle with a narrow door set into one of the tunnel walls which at one time had been used to house a lever frame for the points. He pushed the girl inside and left the wooden box by her feet. Sheere gave him a desperate look, but Jawahal closed the door in her face, leaving her in the pitch dark.
‘Let me out of here, please,’ she begged.
‘I’ll let you out very soon, Sheere,’ murmured Jawahal from the other side of the door. ‘And then nobody will part us.’
‘What are you going to do with me?’
‘I’m going to live inside you, Sheere. In your mind, in your soul and in your body. Before day breaks your lips will be mine, I will see through your eyes. Tomorrow you’ll be immortal, Sheere. Who could ask for more?’
‘Why are you doing all this?’ Sheere pleaded.
Jawahal was silent for a few moments.
‘Because I love you, Sheere … And you know the saying: we always kill what we love the most.’
After what seemed like an endless wait, Seth appeared on the walkway that ran around the hall far above the ground. Ian sighed with relief.
‘What happened to you?’ he demanded.
His voice echoed around the vast space. The chances of them being able to carry out their search without being noticed were rapidly diminishing.
‘It wasn’t easy to get up here,’ Seth called out. ‘I can’t imagine a worse network of corridors and passageways – except perhaps in the Egyptian pyramids. Just be grateful that I’m not lost.’
Ian nodded and told Seth to go towards the gangway leading to the glass chandelier. Seth went along the walkway but paused after he’d taken the first few steps.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ian, watching his friend some fifteen metres above him.
Seth shook his head and continued walking along the narrow gangway until he stopped two metres away from the body suspended by the rope. Very slowly he moved closer to the edge and bent over to examine it. Ian noticed the shock on his friend’s face.
‘Seth? What’s the matter, Seth?’
Visibly agitated, Seth knelt down to untie the rope holding the body, but when he caught hold of it, the rope wound itself round one of his legs and the suspended body plummeted into the void. The rope then gave a violent jolt and started dragging Seth up into the shadows of the vaulted ceiling like a puppet. He struggled to free his leg and cried for help but his body was now being hauled upwards at a frightening pace and soon he disappeared completely.
In the meantime, the corpse that had been hanging overhead had dropped straight into the pool of blood. All Ian could see beneath the shawl wrapped around it were the remains of a skeleton whose bones cracked as they hit the floor, dissolving into dust. The fabric floated down and slowly became soaked in the dark liquid. When Ian examined it he recognised the shawl he’d seen so many times in the orphanage during his sleepless nights, worn across the shoulders of the luminous woman who visited Ben as he slept.
He looked up again, hoping to see some trace of his friend, but the impenetrable darkness had taken Seth and there was no sign of his presence other than the dying echo of his screams.
‘Did you hear that?’ asked Roshan, stopping to listen to the shouts that seemed to be coming from the very bowels of the building.
Michael nodded. The screams gradually faded and soon they were enveloped once again in the sound of the drizzle pattering against the roof of the dome above them. They’d climbed to the top floor of Jheeter’s Gate and were looking down at the amazing sight of the immense station from on high. The platforms and tracks seemed very distant and the elaborate structure of arches and multiple levels could be seen much more clearly from that point.
Michael stopped by the edge of a metal balustrade that jutted out over the void, vertically above the large clock under which they had passed when they entered the station. His artist’s eye appreciated the mesmerising effect created by the hundreds of curved beams issuing from the geometric centre of the dome. They seemed to vanish in an endless arc, never touching the floor. Viewed from that privileged position, the station seemed to rise towards the sky, spiralling into a vault of steel and glass that merged into the clouds above. Roshan joined Michael and took a brief look at the sight that was bewitching his friend.
‘We’re going to get dizzy. Come on, let’s go.’
Michael raised a hand in protest.
‘No, wait. Look down.’
Roshan took a quick peep over the balustrade.
‘If I look again, I’ll fall over.’
A mysterious smile appeared on Michael’s lips. Roshan stared at his friend, wondering what he had discovered.
‘Don’t you realise, Roshan?’
Roshan shook his head. ‘Explain it to me.’
‘This structure,’ Michael said. ‘If you look towards the vanishing point from this position in the dome, you’ll understand.’
Roshan tried to follow Michael’s instructions, but he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to see.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’
‘It’s very simple. This station, the whole structure of Jheeter’s Gate, is an immense sphere. We can only see the part that emerges above ground. The clock tower is situated at the very centre of the dome, like a sort of radius.’