India nodded and continued up the stairs. For once the idea of sleep didn’t fill her with dread. Her head spun, and the pages of her father’s journal swam in her head, blurring together in one endless string of words.
When she entered her room, she immediately went and threw open the curtains, allowing the morning sun to drift lazily in. When her room was bathed in light, she pulled back her covers and prepared for bed.
She undressed quickly, fearing the urge to sleep would leave her. Tossing aside her worn trousers and faded shirt, she climbed beneath the covers and pulled them to her neck. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come.
She was immediately assailed with dark suffocating images. The fear she would smother. Panic. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her hands became clammy. Her eyes flew open, and she breathed heavily as she soaked in the light. In the few seconds she had closed her eyes, her sheets were already bathed in sweat.
With a muffled curse, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and rose, pulling her shirt back on. She summoned Udaya and tried to compose herself. A few seconds later, Udaya poked her dark head in the door, a concerned look on her face.
“Can you have Mary make me a cup of tea?” India asked in resignation.
Udaya immediately crossed the room, her sari flowing delicately at her feet. She enfolded India in her arms. “Do the dreams trouble you,Beti? I’ll go down and see to your tea at once.”
India allowed herself the comfort of Udaya’s embrace. When she pulled away she could see the Indian woman’s brown eyes probing her intently, concern etched in her features.
Udaya patted her cheek affectionately and clucked softly. “Sit down. I’ll be up with your tea then I’ll brush your hair.”
India’s hand went self-consciously to her shorn locks. She twisted her fingers in the short curls at her ear. Even though she no longer sported her long tresses, Udaya knew how much pleasure she took in having her hair brushed.
She turned to look out the window and swore under her breath once more. Damn her weakness. Why couldn’t she just sleep? Mary’s tea held a concoction of herbs intended to help her rest, and it usually succeeded, but she hated having to rely on it.
Even after hours of tedious reading, she couldn’t manage to fall asleep on her own. Every night she stayed awake until the first light of dawn appeared in the sky. Only then could she bear to close her eyes and usually only with the help of Mary’s tea.
Her thoughts drifted back to her father’s notes as she gazed over the rolling landscape of her modest family estate. Modest. She nearly laughed. Was that what one called it when they were on the brink of bankruptcy?
She’d spent night after night pouring over her father’s papers, arranging and sorting so she could write his memoirs. Anything to bring in enough income to survive. After so many years of travel, all she wanted was a place to call home. A place of refuge and a place to heal. And the country that had once been home to her, her beloved India, now invoked images of horror, not the comforting measure of security.
But all she’d found was reference upon reference to the lost city of Pagoria. Not surprising given the passion she and her father held for the subject, but what disturbed her were the things she had read tonight.
Many theories existed about the location of the city. What caused it to vanish. What kind of disaster had befallen it. Over the years a few relics had been produced, but still no definitive location for the ruins. Her father was one of two leading authorities on the city. Well, not according to his peers who thought him half crazed, but he did know more about the city than nearly anyone else.
In the recesses of her mind, she wondered if some of what was said about him was true. In his own handwriting he recounted a visit with an aging man who had claimed to have visited the city. According to the man, the city still lived. Still thrived. And afterwards her father had seemed obsessed with the idea that the city still existed.
She frowned. Only once had he given voice to his theory. It had been at a lecture given to members of the Historical Society during one of the few trips back to England in the last fifteen years. He had been laughed out of the building.
He’d never spoken of it again, not even to her. She had assumed the theory had lost support with him. Now upon reading his private journal, she realized just how prevailing his obsession had been.
Despair threatened to swell in her chest. How could she put to paper his ideas on Pagoria? He would be more of a laughingstock in death than he was in life. She couldn’t bear for his peers to shake their heads knowingly and think they had been right all along. Her account would only validate the censorious articles written about him.
But without the funds from publishing his memoirs, she may as well forego any notion of keeping her home. If she had any hope of being taken seriously, she would have to leave out his views on the city’s current state. She rubbed her hands wearily over her forehead, trying to assuage the dull ache in her temples.
She glanced up in relief when Udaya returned with a tray of tea.
“Sit down,Beti,” Udaya said firmly. “I’ll pour you some tea.”
Not arguing, India sat down at her dressing table and gratefully took the hot cup of tea her trusted companion offered. Udaya’s deft hands smoothed the strands of her hair behind her ears, and India sighed in pleasure.
“Shall I sit with you until you fall asleep?” Udaya asked, softly stroking India’s head.
India shook her head. “I must learn to do this on my own.”
Udaya patted her shoulder and collected the tray. “Summon me if you have need of anything further.”
India watched as Udaya left in a swirl of silk then she glanced across the room to her bed. She stared at it with ambivalence. How could something so soft and comforting turn into the enemy?
Determined not to let her inner demons win, she climbed into the bed and yanked the covers up. She stared, wide-eyed at the ceiling, willing the calming affects of the tea to settle over her.
Soon her eyelids grew heavy and relief swept over her. Within minutes she would slip into a dreamless sleep. One devoid of the frightening images that had tormented her since her return.
