The Confusion

"What has this t'do wi' you, Dad, who doahn't know al-jebr from jabber?" said Da

"In the clouded and furious imaginings of the Great Mogul, I am just another Frankish sorcerer. Which is to say that I could be reclining on a silken pillow in Shahjahanabad right now while some Hindoo lass played knick-knack on my chakras. But instead I am here!" And at this point Jack was secretly glad that his sons had been interrupting him the whole way, because the timing had worked out just as in some reasonably well-produced theatrical production: He spurred his donkey forward to the bare top of a hill and swept out a vast arc with his arm. "Look well and carefully upon these domains, my sons—for one day, they will not be yours!"

"Fook it in that case—we've already seen 'em," said Jimmy. "Which way to Shahjahanabad?"

"As you can see, my jagir resembles one of those large earthenware trays in which we make saltpeter. It has a flat hard bottom caked with salty mud, in which what little grows is immediately eaten. The sloped sides of the tray, then, are these ranges of hills that surround it on all sides—save in one place, down below us here, which—in this similitude—is the spout of the tray. It is a stretch of marshes, a sort of Reptile Paradise, that leads eventually to the Bay of Bengal."

"Beggin' your pardon, Dad, but your royal highness's rayan lasts another—what—four months?"

"One hundred sixteen days and counting."

"Then whoy should me 'n' Da

"If you would shut up for ten consecutive minutes, I'd get to that," said Jack, and took advantage of his altitude to try to find Surendranath and Enoch Root—who seemed to think that the only purpose of going on journeys was to wander about and gawk at all and sundry. Not long after they'd all left the Royal Palace at Bhalupoor (Jack's summer capital, up in the hills), the Banyan and the alchemist had fallen into conversation. Not long after that, they'd evidently lost all interest in the incessant banter of the Shaftoes, and in the last few minutes they had dropped out of the caravan altogether. A retinue of spare palanquin-bearers, bodyguards, aides, and other wallahs had come along with them, and these were spreading out as the gap between Jack's and Enoch's group widened, trying to maintain some sort of contact; Jack could barely see the closest one, and could only hope that that fellow could see the next. The danger lay not in getting lost (for Surendranath knew the way better than Jack), and not in wild animals (according to Jimmy and Da

Jack realized with mild astonishment that Jimmy and Da

"Oh, yes. Precisely because the Great Mogul hands out his king-ships on a strictly limited three-year term, every king must devote his energies, from the first day of his reign, to preparing for the day when he will be a king no more. Now here I could speak to you of details for twelve hours, and those of you who are fascinated by tales of Oriental decadence would hear much to marvel at. Instead I will summarize it as follows: There are two approaches to being a king. One, remain in Shahjahanabad and maneuver and strive against all the others in hopes that the Great Mogul will reward thee with another kingship at the end of the three years."

"I can guess two," said Da

"Just like an English lord in Ireland," Jimmy added.

Jack heaved a great sigh; sniffled once; and wiped a tear from his eye. "My sons, you do me proud."

"That is the course you be steerin', then, Dad?"

"Not quite. Sucking this jagir dry is like getting blood from beef jerky. My illustrious predecessors have been sucking it dry for mille

"That'd be the wog in the palankeen, then…"

"Surendranath is my zamindar. His agents hover over the markets in my two cities—Bhalupoor in the hills, where we stayed last night, and Dalicot on the coast, where we are going now. For those are the places where the produce of the earth or sea is exchanged for silver. And since I must pay my taxes to the Great Mogul in silver, that is the only place to collect it. The tax rate is fixed. Nothing ever changes. The jagir produces a certain meager income, and there is no way to increase it."

"So what've you been doin' all these years, Dad?" Jimmy demanded.

"My first move was to lose some battles—or, at the very least, fail to win them—against the Marathas."

"Why? Y'know how t'make phosphorus. You could've scared those Marathas shitless and driven 'em into the sea."

"This was tactical losing, Da

"But by makin' yerself out to be a feckless Vagabond shite-for-brayans, you assured yourself of some security," said Jimmy.

"Moguls and Marathas alike want me to stay alive—for another one hundred and sixteen days, anyway. Otherwise I never would've lasted long enough for you boys to journey out and beat me up."

"But what then, Dad? Have you done anything here besides losin' battles and mulctin' wretches for pin-money?"

"Ssh! Listen!" Jack said.

They listened, and mostly heard their own stomachs growling, and a breeze in the trees. But after a few moments they were able to make out a distant chop, chop, chop.

"Woodcutters?" Da

"Not just any wood, and not just any cutters," said Jack, spurring his donkey down off the hilltop and riding toward the sound. "Mark this tree over here—no, the big one on the right! That is teak."

"Tea?"

"Teak. Teak. It grows all over Hind."

"What's it good for?"

"It grows all over Hind, I said. Think about what that means."

"What's it mean? Just give it to us straight, Dad. We're no good at riddles," Jimmy said; at which Da

"Speak for yourself, ni

"Da

SEVERAL TALL TEAKS HAD BEEN felled in the clearing, but even so, Da