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bowed, "Much better, senhorita."
    "Then why do we postpone?"
    Carvallo seemed taken aback. "It does not appear seemly, senhorita . .
    "Has anyone asked your uncle's wishes, madam?" Pathan asked quietly
in Hindi.
    Now it was Lucinda's turn to be surprised. "I will do this," she answered. With a glance to Carvallo that she hoped would indicate her command of the situation, she burst inside and hurried upstairs.
    She found Geraldo sleeping in a chair by her uncle's door. "He's been
there all night," the valet, Adolfo, told her as he led Lucinda inside.
    "Come in, niece," Carlos said. The wave of his hand seemed to take all
his strength. His face was pale from being bled, but his eyes were bright
and he beamed at her with love.

    She explained the situation. "The caravan must leave at once," he told
her. "Things are not good, and I fear any delay."
    "Yes, Uncle," Lucinda answered, placing her hand on his. His skin felt
thin, cool and slightly damp. He'd been cleaned, and his hair combed back,
but even so a smell of vomit and feces hovered in the air. "We'll go then as
you say.
    "Wait," Carlos said placing his other hand on hers. She saw the white
bandage on his forearm covering the wound where the doctor had bled
him. "They thought I was dying last night. They said it was poison. Bah.
Too much wine for an old man, that's all. But when the priest placed the
chrism on my forehead, do you know what I thought?"
    Lucinda hid her surprise. No one had told her about the priest. "What,
Uncle?"
    "Not about my sins or the Virgin. No, I thought about you." A tear glistened on his cheek. "You're so perfect, Lucy. So pure. Family is everything. I
see that now more clearly than ever. You're all I've got now, dear one."
    "And Geraldo, Uncle."
    "What?" Carlos said, blinking as if he'd been asleep.
    "Geraldo ... He's family too, isn't he? And Victorio, your brother,
don't forget him."
    He stared at her for a long time before he finally answered. "My brotherin-law, yes." His hand moved from hers. "Yes. I only meant..."
    "Yes, Uncle?"
    He sighed and closed his eyes, and for a frightened moment Lucinda
thought that he had died. Then he mumbled, "I thought you'd understand."
    "I do," she answered.
    Carlos waved his hand. "Go now. Carry my good wishes to Victorio.
Enjoy your journey."
    "Thank you, Tio Carlos." She leaned over and kissed his forehead.
    "One thing," he gasped as she was about to leave. "Da Gama. Be careful. Don't trust him."
    Lucinda started when she heard these words. She yearned to hear more,
but she could see that her uncle was weak, too weak to talk, and if the truth
were told, she was anxious to start her adventure. "Yes, Uncle," she said
brightly. "I'll be fine."
    Outside she shook Geraldo's shoulder. "Get up. We're leaving."

    "Will he be all right?" Geraldo said, his face grave.
    "It will take more than flux to kill Tio Carlos," she said. But Geraldo's
face seemed full of worry, not relief.

    When a Goan said, "We'll leave at dawn," everyone understood it was a figure of speech. By the time goodbyes had been said and trunks unlocked
once more to be stuffed with an assemblage of forgotten items, dawn had
long passed. The Muslim horsemen had unfurled their prayer rugs toward
a west-facing wall. Then the trunks had been loaded and tied onto the bullock carts, then untied and unloaded, and loaded once more, and now the
sun was high and the animals thirsty and impatient.
    She was so used to Goa and its cascade of unexpected delays that
Lucinda couldn't understand Captain Pathan's increasing frustration. Pathan
sent servants for water for the animals, but the Goans, used to a siesta, moved
so slowly he at last sent his own men.
    Then the elephant defecated in the street, and there was no one to clean
it up, for Dasana's servants had by that time wisely disappeared to shady
corners, and, after the insult of carrying water, the Muslim guards ignored
their captain's soft request and he had not the heart to