Distantly conscious of Logan, then Gareth, ranging behind him, Del looked down on James MacFarlane’s body.

It took a moment to register that beside him lay his lieutenant and the troop’s corporal.

It was Rafe-who of them all had seen more of the Black Cobra’s lethal handiwork than any one man should ever have to bear-who turned away with a vicious oath.

Del seized his arm. Simply said, “Let me.”

He had to drag in a breath, physically drag his gaze from the bodies before he could raise his head and look at the waiting sowar. “What happened?”

Even to him, his voice sounded deadly.

The sowar wasn’t a coward. With creditable composure, he lifted his chin and came to attention. “We were more than halfway back on the road from Poona, when the Captain-sahib realized there were horsemen chasing us. We rode on quickly, but then the Captain-sahib stopped at a place where the road narrows, and sent us all on. The lieutenant stayed with him, along with three others. The Captain-sahib sent the rest of us all pell-mell on with the memsahib.”

Del glanced at the wagon bed. “When was this?”

“Earlier today, Colonel-sahib.”

“Who sent you back?”

The sowar shifted. “When we came within sight of Bombay, the memsahib insisted we go back. The Captain-sahib had ordered us to stay with her all the way to the fort, but she was very agitated. She allowed only two of us to go with her to the governor’s house. The rest of us went back to see if we could help the Captain-sahib and the lieutenant.” The sowar paused, then went on more quietly, “But there were only these bodies left when we reached the place.”

“They took two of your troop?”

“We could see where they had dragged them away behind their horses, Colonel-sahib. We didn’t think following would do any good.”