Read Online The Empress of India by Michael Kurland - Free Book Online

expression. It was also of solid gold, and encrusted with precious gems: emeralds set into the eyes—Pati had green eyes—and necklaces, bracelets, finger rings, anklets, and a coronet, all set with the most precious gems, fitted onto the statue by the finest jewelers in the kingdom.
    “You’ve seen it, then?”
    “I have seen a miniature representation; about six inches high, I’d say. Gilded plaster set with semiprecious stones—valuable in itself, but nothing compared to the intrinsic worth of the original. But exquisite. One feels that it would have been pleasant to know the young woman—Pati. The original is missing—looted from the temple in 1857, during the Sepoy Mutiny. It’s guesswork, pure guesswork as to whether it was taken by sepoy troops in revenge for the maharaja being pro-British, or later by the British in revenge for the maharaja being pro-sepoy. And your guess is as good as mine. I have spoken to people who were there, and have heard both stories. Which is why I have come to see you.”
    “You want to determine who took the statue thirty-five years ago?”
    “No, thank God, it won’t come to that. Or, rather, I should say, it has passed that. I know who has the golden houri now. I don’t know for sure how it came into their hands, but that, thank God, is immaterial.”
    “You wish my help in recovering the work?”
    “The current maharaja, Ramasatjit, has commissioned me to findthe golden houri and return it to him. He will pay quite well—more than the intrinsic value of the piece, which, as I’ve said, is outrageously high.”
    “How well?”
    Moran tapped the ash off the end of his cigar. “What would you say to twenty thousand pounds?” he asked.
    “I’d say that, invested conservatively, it could bring you an income of six hundred a year. And you could live quite well on six hundred a year. But then there would be my fee to consider, if I agree to help you.”
    “You misunderstand me, sir,” Moran said. “The twenty thousand would be your fee.”
    Moriarty polished his pince-nez and replaced them on the bridge of his nose. “You jest, sir,” he said.
    “I never jest about money,” Colonel Moran told him. “And I tell you in all honesty, since, if we are to do this, there should be no secrets between us, at least not concerning the task at hand, that my share will be five times that. I hope you have no problem with that.”
    “None,” Moriarty told him. “But in that case I will make sure that if there is any exceptional risk to be run, you will do the running, Colonel.”
    “Fair enough,” Moran agreed.
    Moriarty considered. “Two questions,” he said.
    “You want to know who has the statue now and where it is?” Moran said.
    “That will come later,” Moriarty told him. “Why is it worth so much to the current maharaja, and how do we know he will redeem it for the agreed-upon fee?”
    “Ah!” Moran said. “As to the first: during the hundred years or so that the statue was in the temple, it became known variously as the Goddess of Lamapoor, the Luck of Lamapoor, the Lady of Lamapoor, and the Queen of Lamapoor. You would pray, if you were so inclined, to one of its various aspects to achieve some worthwhile goal. The Goddess of Lamapoor was adept at providing relief to infertile couples. TheLuck of Lamapoor assured success in business ventures. The Lady of Lamapoor answered questions and gave advice, by various forms of divination.”
    “Lovely!” Moriarty commented. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “And the Queen of Lamapoor?”
    “In her aspect as the Queen of Lamapoor the lovely Pati protected the maharaja and his subjects from harm.”
    “Ah!” Professor Moriarty said. “And has she been successful in this endeavor?”
    “Until her disappearance, she performed her job quite well. Lamapoor had a hundred years of prosperity and relative tranquillity while she reposed in her niche in the inner temple wall. The area produces pottery and rugs,