"Adaira!"

I had never heard so much fear and rage squeezed into a single shout. Especially not one coming from my husband. Yet no answer came to his call. Maybe because there was no one alive to give an answer.

"Rasatē tōṁ bāhara!" Mr Ambrose barked at the crowd, uncaring that, here in Delhi, few people probably understood Punjabi. "Rasatē tōṁ bāhara!"

No one followed his command to get out of the way. No one even seemed to have heard. Clenching his fists around the reins, Mr Ambrose once more drove his horse forward—or at least tried to. But the current of the crowd was irresistible. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, we were being swept away from where Adaira had disappeared among the swarms of people. Once, I thought I caught a glance of Karim's big turban, but it was only for an instant. The next moment our horse received a shove that nearly toppled it over, and I lost sight of him.

We have to get out of here! If things go on like this, we'll be thrown off our mount and trampled to death!

But I didn't voice those thoughts. Because...if we had to get away to avoid being trampled to death, what about Adaira?

"Move, you useless beast! Move!" Once more, Mr Ambrose tried to force his mount forward—to no avail whatsoever. The force of the crowd was unstoppable. As for his shouts at the crowd...they were completely ignored. Those people were far too busy with other things, because, right then, they caught sight of the army approaching from outside the city for the very first time. A cheer erupted, and the mass of people from the city started moving even faster. Bodies from all around pressed more tightly against us and our horse shied in response, scared by the movement and noise. Gritting his teeth, Mr Ambrose forced it down and tried to get it to move again.

"Stop!" I put a hand on my husband's arm.

"No, I have to—"

"Stop, or we will be squashed to death! What good will we be to Adaira then?"

For just a moment, he hesitated, staring at the spot where Adaira had vanished—then, with a heartrending sound escaping his throat, he wrenched the horse around, away from the undulating masses of people that threatened to overwhelm us. But it was of little use. More and more people started flooding towards us as another swarm of people came rushing out of the city to cheer for the arriving army. The pressure from all sides was becoming heavier and heavier, and if we hadn't been on a horse, we might already have been separated or squashed.

"We have to get out of here." There was a grim set to my husband's jaw, and it was clear he did not like the idea. "Now. Hold on."

He didn't need to ask twice. I tightened my grip around his waist, and just in time, too. Because, the very next moment, he slapped his horse's rear and started driving it forward even more fiercely, away from the centre of the crowd. Somehow, slowly, we managed to move against the current of people. But I wasn't sure how long it would last. From my vantage point, I could already see more people heading this way.

"We've got to get off the horse and up somewhere safe. A rooftop maybe, or..." Continuing to urge the horse on, he quickly scanned the surroundings. "The city wall! Quick!"

He yanked our mount to the left and headed straight towards the wall, nearly trampling a number of rebels to death in the process. No...not just towards the wall. Towards the stairs that led up the wall!

"Take the reins!" He thrust them into my hand, and I was about to open my mouth to ask why when he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and stood up on the saddle like a bloody circus artist! Before I could yell at the stupid, rock-headed idiot to stop, he leapt!

Instinctively, I closed my eyes and held my breath.

"Open your eyes, you foolish woman!"

Instantly, I wrenched them open again—and there he stood, scraped and dirty, but already halfway up the stairs of the city wall. And, more importantly, with a rope that he had somehow gotten his hands on clutched firmly in his grip.

"Catch!"

My hands moved on instinct as one end of the rope flew towards me. The rough hemp burned against my fingers, but I ignored the feeling, knowing it was just the start.

"Hold tight!"

Then he pulled.

Pain. Pain as sharp as a red-hot knife stabbed into my hands. Yet I didn't even think of letting go. A moment later, I found myself airborne, my arms ablaze with agony. Gritting my teeth, I clung on desperately. Any moment now, it would be over. Any moment now! Any moment n—

A familiar, rock-hard hand closed around my wrist and finally ended the pain. A moment later, I found myself being pulled up onto the stone stairs of the city wall, far above the mass of armed men roiling beneath us. Just then, I saw someone stumble and immediately disappear beneath the swarms of people. A scream rose into the sky—then was immediately silenced.

A shudder travelled down my back. If we'd been just a little slower, that might have been me.

"Are you all right?" Pulling me into his arms, my husband held me tightly, and I was more than happy to let him.

Without hesitation, I hugged him back fiercely, not giving a crap about the two humongous beards that were getting in the way. "J-just barely."

"Adequate."

Pressing my face into his chest, I indulged in the feeling. Solid. Unmovable. Mine. "Let's not do that again, shall we?"

"Agreed."

There was a pause, during which we simply luxuriated in the fact that we were alive and together. It lasted only for a moment, though, before reality came flooding back.

"We...we have to move." Forcing myself to slip out of his embrace, I looked up at him, my meaning clear in my eyes. With a curt nod, he rose to his feet.

"Yes. We have to find the others." A hand appeared in front of me. "Come."

Taking the proffered hand, I let myself be pulled to my feet and followed Mr Ambrose into the shadowy archway that was the entrance to the nearest watch tower. In the gloomy interior, I could only just make out a spiral staircase that led upwards.

"What are we doing here?" I whispered. Not the raucous crowd below bothered to pay any attention to us. "Hiding?"

"Not just that." He pointed up at where, through an arched window, a beam of light fell inside and cut the darkness of the tower in two. "If we want to have any chance of finding Adaira and Karim in this chaos, we need an adequate vantage point. Let's go!"

And he took off, racing up the stairs three steps at a time—which was a little bit problematic, since he was still holding my hand, and short-legged little me was not exactly able to keep up with him! Somehow, I managed to not be hurled off my feet and smashed face-first into the stairs. Instead, I was half-dragged, half-carried up the stairs, my legs only barely able to keep pace. Finally, we came to a stop at the top of the stairs, and I fell against the closest wall, panting heavily. Mr Rikkard Ambrose was already at the window, scanning the crowd below with a piercing gaze.

Dragging in a deep breath, I stepped up to the window beside him—and, for the first time, I got a good look at what was going on in the city, now that the rebel army was flooding the place.

I blinked.

Then stared for a while.

Then blinked again, just to make sure of what I was seeing. It looked rather...confusing?

"Um, Mr Ambrose?"

"Yes?"

"Are they looting or celebrating?"

"Both."

I opened my mouth to tell him how ridiculous that sounded—only to close it again when I realised he was right. The chaotic mob milling through the streets below had no order to it whatsoever, and neither had its actions. Some of the rebel soldiers were kicking down doors, killing people left and right and plundering anything they could get their hands on. Others were dancing in the streets, celebrating with civilians who didn't seem to mind in the slightest that their neighbours were being looted. Of course, that might have had something to do with their neighbours being British.

Once again, I felt a deep sense of appreciation for my beard.

"Any sign of Adaira?" Mr Ambrose asked, his voice hoarse.

There was no need to mention that, if he took the time to pose that question, he himself hadn't found a single hint of her.

Quickly, I swept my gaze over the raucous crowd—then shook my head. "No. None at all."

Not that I'd really had much hope. The square below the tower was nothing but a chaotic mass of colours. With the local costume Adaira was wearing, it was almost impossible for us to spot her, even from up here, where we could overlook everything.

So...if it's not possible to find her, why not look for the next best thing?

Immediately, I started scanning the square once more—and soon was met with success!

"There! Look over there!"

"What? You found her?"

"Not Adaira! Her horse! Look!"

He followed my outstretched arm with his gaze and, indeed, down there in the square was Adaira's mount. But the sight did not seem to bring Mr Ambrose any joy—probably because the horse was running wild, and the saddle was empty.

"Look in the vicinity! Is there any hint of where Adaira fell?"

I tried. I really tried. There were a lot of people around the panicking horse—mostly screaming ones trying not to get trampled to death. But none of them looked remotely like Adaira. Which, considering the number of heads already smashed by horse hooves, probably wasn't a bad thing.

I continued to look. Without blinking once, I continued to scour the square with my eyes. I was not going to give up on Adaira! I wasn't! I wasn't! I...

...wasn't going to find her, was I?

Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard. Damn and blast!

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Mr Rikkard Ambrose still frantically searching the square below, his fingers squeezing the stone windowsill so hard the rock nearly cracked beneath his grip. Cautiously, I reached out and placed a hand onto his shoulder.

"Mr Ambrose—"

"Not now! I have to keep looking!"

"Mr Ambrose...Rikkard, I..."

I couldn't bring myself to say what I was thinking. But he seemed to hear the words I didn't dare to speak nonetheless. Beneath my touch, his shoulder sagged ever so slightly.

"We've lost her, haven't we?"

A pause.

"For now...yes."

In the gloom of the tower, I could just make out a certain muscle in his cheek twitch violently. Turning away from the window, he slammed his fist into the stone wall, making dust rain from the ceiling.

"Come on." Gently squeezing his shoulder, I inclined my head towards the stairs. "We have to get out of here before the rebels start to think manning the walls of their new city would be a good idea. We have to find a place to hide."

Mr Rikkard Ambrose stood frozen for a second longer—then tore himself away and strode towards the stairs. With a last, regretful glance at the window, I followed.

I just really hope Adaira is all right.

***

Adaira felt like she was floating on a cloud. Her vision was fuzzy, and she was lying on something soft and comfortable that—

"Mājhyāpāsūna dūra rāhā, arē bāsṭarḍa!"

Hm...strange. Why did a voice in her dream speak a language she didn't know? And, more importantly, why did it sound as if it were cursing her?

Just then, her dream voice reached out and shoved her.

"Ow!" With a thud, she landed on a pavement that was far too hard to be part of a dream. It hurt. It hurt like a son of a bachelor. And, now that she was starting to wake up, she realised there was far more pain than there should have been from such a short fall. Her whole body was aching. She had just felt too fuzzy in the head to notice before. Now, consciousness was slowly returning, and along with it came a bone-deep agony. With a mighty effort, she pulled open her eyelids—

"Heck!"

—and rolled out of the way just in time to keep a boot from stomping on her face. Adaira opened her mouth and was about to curse at the son of a bachelor who had tried to step on her, when she remembered that starting to curse in English in the midst of a mob of Indian rebels might not be the smartest thing to do.

Scuttling towards the nearest house, she grabbed the front door's doorknob and pulled herself to her feet. And not a moment too soon. A fresh flood of people surged into the square, and Adaira only just managed to keep from getting trampled by squeezing into the doorway. She had to find a way out of here before she got killed! She had to—

The door she was leaning against swung open inwards, and she fell into the house.

Oh well. So much for that.

Scrambling to her feet, Adaira hurried into the house and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned and was about to open her mouth to apologise to the homeowners for the sudden intrusion, when she noticed the open drawers, shattered windows and torn curtains.

Um...seems like they've had a sudden intrusion already.

"Well...sorry anyway?" she said, just in case. The only thing that answered her was a thud and a scream from outside the house.

All right, time to get out of here!

Without wasting another second, Adaira rushed towards a window at the back of the house. It was shattered, just like most other windows in the house. But there were sharp shards of glass still clinging to the window frame. With the broken leg of a bedside table, Adaira slammed away the last few broken bits of glass, then slid out of the window and down to the (thankfully rather close) ground. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned against the wall at the back of the house. Finally! She was away from the mob! She was safe! So now, she could...she could...

...do what, exactly?

Adaira suddenly sobered up. She was no fool. She was alone in a strange city, the language of which she didn't speak. What the heck could she even accomplish?

Well, solving the 'alone' problem might be a good start, Adaira. Get off your butt and look for your brother!

Good point. He, Lilly and Karim were bound to still be out there somewhere. They might be injured, or even—

She ruthlessly cut off that thought before it could take root. No time for useless speculations now. She had to move. Without hesitation, she headed towards a nearby house, the roof of which would provide a nice vantage point. From up there, she should be able to spot the others, right?

Ten minutes of fruitless searching later, and she still had found no trace of them.

But I saw them together before that blasted horse threw me off! They have to be around here somewhere! They have to be safe!

Adaira forced herself to calm down. She couldn't see them, true, but she also couldn't see any hints of them being caught and lynched—which meant that, most likely, they were not in dager.

My brother should be able to take care of himself and Lilly, and...

Then she thought about her stupid big brother, and reconsidered.

Correction...Lilly should be able to take care of herself and my thick-headed brother. As for Karim...he is pretty much the only one of us who is not in danger here. Unless he decides to install himself as the new head of the rebellion to lead India to freedom and greatness, but, well...let's cross that battlefield when we come to it.

So...she couldn't find the other three for now, but they should be safe. Safer than she was, at any rate, with a bodyguard for company. There was no need to look for them right now. In fact, doing so might draw attention and prove counterproductive. And if she wasn't going to look for Lilly, Karim and her brother, this left only one option for her, didn't it?

Purely coincidentally, it was the option she wanted the most.

Rising to her feet, Adaira stood upon the flat roof and gazed out across the city with determination on her face.

James...I'm coming!

Without hesitation, she jumped down from the roof onto the shed behind the house, and from there onto the street. Circumventing the square where the welcoming festivities for the rebel army were still ongoing, she quickly made her way towards the inner city.

It shouldn't be too hard to find the only British soldier in a city full of Indians, right? She told herself as she ran. He'll stick out like a sore thumb!

As it turned out, she was right. It wasn't hard at all. She found the first British soldier after a few dozen steps down the street. He was lying sprawled on the ground, stains of a darker red on his bright red uniform and his head nearly separated from his body.

Adaira felt her entire body tremble uncontrollably—until she forced herself to clench her fists and straighten her spine. Slowly, she moved towards the man on the ground and, with all the courage she could gather, looked down at his face.

It's not him! Thank the Lord, it's not him!

She had to fight to not shout aloud with joy. In the end, she managed to not say a single word. Instead, she strode past the prone body and continued searching the nearby empty streets. If she wanted to find any sign of James, she had to grab this chance, while most of the city's residents were occupied with welcoming the rebel army.

Over the next hour or so, Adaira scoured several streets in search of Captain James Carter. She did not find him, although she did find several of his colleagues, in various stages of death and decomposition. Every time she came across a niche in a wall or a shadowy alleyway, she peered inside, hoping to find his familiar cheeky smile. But by the time the rebels started flooding into the inner city, she had not found anything at all. She was just about to retreat into an alley to not draw any attention to herself, when suddenly, she heard the sound of quick footsteps approaching from the opposite direction of the arriving rebels.

"Attention! Attention, everyone!"

Turning around, Adaira looked up and saw someone in a uniform who had appeared up on a house roof, shouting in...English? Was this fellow insane? Did he want to have his throat cut?

But a moment later, she understood. There were so many languages in India, and now rebels from all parts of the country were gathering here. Wasn't it normal to use English as a lingua franca?

A secret smile stole onto her face.

Well, this should make looking for James quite a bit easier. Maybe I should just ask my dear fellow rebels if any British scum had been captured and—

"Attention, everyone! Listen!" the man on the roof interrupted her thoughts. "We've captured some British scum who were trying to escape the city! Even some redcoat officers were caught!"

Explosive cheers rose into the air from everywhere. Adaira felt like cheering herself. Officers? That was him! It had to be! He was alive! He was alive! True, he might be captured, but so what? Prisons could be infiltrated, and prisoners could be freed.

Immediately, she followed the eager crowd, feeling just as excited as they did—although probably for a different reason. They were moving towards a big, red fort in the distance. Was that where the prisoners were being held? Honestly, the place looked more like a palace than a prison. Why would...?

That was the moment she noticed the wooden platform that had been erected in front of the fort. The platform on top of which rose the gallows, with the noose already dangling in the wind.

-----------------------------------

My dear Readers,

Last chapter, I forgot to thank my dear Indian readers for their feedback on the term "redcoat". It seems that there are Indian words that would be more suitable, but to not cause confusion, I will stick with the same word in this book. But I will note down your feedback in case I write another story that takes place in India.

Thank you! :)

Yours Truly

-----------------------------------

Rasatē tōṁ bāhara!—Punjabi for "Out of the way!"

Mājhyāpāsūna dūra rāhā, arē bāsṭarḍa! - Marathi for "Get the hell off me, you bastard!"