Chapter 16
Pen returned to Fariq’s club the next morning. To her surprise, he had an entire room cleared out, including the carpets, and stood barefoot and without a shirt in the middle of the room.
Pen eyed him with misgiving. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I am practising Kalaripayattu. The oldest martial art in the world. The art of defence and attack that the warriors of old used. So effective that the British are trying to banish it. In vain.”
He performed a choreography of smooth, fluent movements that were almost like a dance.
Pen watched with an open mouth. “This is amazing. I did not know you could do this.”
“My father was an instructor, and I have been learning this since I was a child.”
Pen watched, awe-struck, how he performed the fluid, elegant movements that were graceful yet simultaneously full of power.
“You should try it yourself one day,” Fariq said as he wiped his face. “My father also taught women, you know.”
“What happened to your father?” Pen sat on the floor and hugged her knees.
Fariq walked over to a little side table, lifted a jar and poured himself a glass of water. “They killed him in the uprising in Kerala.”
“They. You mean the British.”
Fariq bent his head in assertion.
“And then?”
“Seeing as they were persecuting everyone who knows and teaches Kalaripayattu, I tried to forget everything I’ve been taught and lived in the streets until His Grace found me.”
“You never told me this before.”
He handed her a glass of water, and Pen drank in big gulps. “Well, now you know.”
“Fariq.” She handed him the empty glass. “You know what they say about Marcus. Is it true?”
Fariq retied the sash around his waist and took his time to answer. “Some of it is. And some of it isn’t.”
Pen blew out air in frustration.
“If I am going to be honest, I think there are some devils inside that ride him. I don’t know why. He is a man who—” He searched for words. “—simply hasn’t found his peace. He’s being driven by something.” He gave her a quick grin. “Who knows in what den of iniquity he is now.”
Pen looked at him miserably. “He’s forgotten all about me, hasn’t he?”
Fariq’s eyes shifted away from her. “Of course he hasn’t. He’s just been very busy, that’s all. Besides, I have good news. I found him yesterday.”
Pen shot up. “What? How? Why didn’t you tell me so earlier? Where is he?”
“In one of the dens of iniquity I talked about.” He pulled on a coat.
Pen felt a range of emotions coursing through her. Relief, disappointment. Anger.
“Did you tell him about me? What does he say?” She shook his arm.
“Naturally, I told him about you. That you’ve grown up to be a man who’s about to play the biggest gambling match the club has ever seen.”
“And?” Pen pressed.
Fariq shrugged. “He laughed.”
