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"And exactly which one of us is going to oversee and organize this grand scheme of yours?" she demanded.
"Neither of us. We just front the money-I can get enough to start from my father-and we-mostly you-provide the political influence. I figured we could bring up your banker from Barbaricum-"
"Pulinda?"
"Yes, him. He's shrewd as they come, and he knows India. For ru
"If he agrees. He might not-"
"I already asked him. He says he'd love to. He's tired of figuring out new ways to kill people."
"You already asked him?"
"Yes. And I think Justinian will go for it, too. Not directly, of course. He's got to get back to Constantinople as soon as the war's over or Theodora will send out the executioners. But he's intrigued by the idea and says he's sure he can siphon us some imperial financing-provided he gets to play with the gadgets at his end."
The pallet lurched. Calopodius knew that A
"You asked the Emperor of Rome to be our business partner in a manufacturing scheme? Are you out of your mind?"
"He's not the Emperor any longer, dear," Calopodius pointed out mildly. "Photius is."
"Still!"
"He's the Grand Justiciar. And you know how much he loves to play with gadgets."
"My husband!" A
Kungas came to his decision and moved away from the window looking out over Peshawar. "All right," he said, "we'll do it."
He gave the small group of Ye-tai deserters a gaze that wasn't cold so much as simply impassive. The way a glacier contemplates so many rocks who might be in its way when it ground forward to the sea. More indifferent than icy, since the outcome was inevitable.
The Ye-tai were squatting on the floor of his private audience chamber. They seemed like so many rocks, indeed, as motionless as they were. And for good reason. First, they were disarmed. Second, the Kushan soldiers standing around and guarding them were armed to the teeth. Third, there was no love lost between Kushans and Ye-tai to begin with. Hadn't been for a century, since the invading Ye-tai had broken the Kushan kingdom that Kungas had re-created.
"If you're lying, of course, you're dead men."
The Ye-tai squad leader made a shrug that was as minimal as any Kungas himself might have made. "Why would we lie?"
"I can't think of any reason myself. Which is why I decided to believe you." Kungas' crack of a smile came. "Besides, Sarmatians are noted for their honesty. Even half-Sarmatians."
That little joke brought a ripple of laughter in the room, as much from the Kushan guards as the Ye-tai prisoners. For the first time since they'd been ushered into the chamber-frog-marched, more like-the Ye-tai visibly relaxed.
Although his thin smile had remained, Kungas had not joined the laughter. When it ended, he shook his head.
"I'm not joking, really. You six are the founding members of my new military unit. If you're not lying-and I'm assuming you aren't-then you won't be the last Malwa deserters coming over to us. So I think I'll enroll all of you in the… What to call it?"
Irene piped up, sitting on a chair to one side. "The Royal Sarmatian Guards."
"That'll do nicely." Kungas turned to his lieutenants. "Get the army formed up. I want to march out tomorrow morning, early. Leave five thousand men in the capital."
"I won't need that many," said Irene. "Three thousand is plenty to maintain order and keep the hill tribes from getting any ideas."
Kungas thought about it, and decided she was right. He could leave the additional two thousand men with the five thousand already garrisoning the forts in the passes at Margalla and Kohat. That would secure the gates to the kingdom and leave him almost twenty thousand men to do…
Whatever. He didn't know yet. He was quite sure the Ye-tai deserters weren't lying. But that didn't necessarily mean their assessment of things was all that accurate, either.
Still, he thought it was probably was. Close enough, anyway. Kungas had been fighting almost since he was a boy. There was that smell in the air, of an enemy starting to come apart.
When Jaimal caught his first glimpse of the walls of Ajmer, he felt the greatest exhilaration he'd ever felt in his life. Even though he was also completely exhausted.
He glanced at Udai Singh, riding next to him at the head of the small Rajput cavalry column, and saw the same gleaming smile he must have had on his own face.
"A ride of legend!" Udai shouted. Half-croaked, rather.
Shouted or croaked, it was true. And the ragged chorus of that same half-croaked shout coming from the fifty cavalrymen following told Jaimal that their men knew it as well as they did.
Rajputana was a land of horsemen, as well as warriors. A great horse ride would become a thing of renown just as surely as a great feat of arms.
Emperor Damodara and Rana Sanga had asked them to accomplish the incredibly difficult task of riding from Bharakuccha to Ajmer in two weeks. If possible.
They'd done it in eleven days. Without losing more than nine of their horses.
"A ride of legend!" he shouted himself.
But there was no need for that, really. Already, he could see the gates of the city opening, and cavalrymen issuing forth. Hundreds of them. Even from the great distance, just seeing the way they rode, he knew they were all young men. Seeking their own place in legends.
Jaimal and Udai would give it to them.
Standing on the walls of Ajmer and watching the way the young warriors who had poured out of the city were circling the new arrivals-there were at least a thousand of them, now, with more sallying from the gates every minute-the oldest and therefore wisest king of Rajputana knew it was hopeless. That was a whirlwind of celebration and excitement, out there. Caution and sagacity would soon become so many leaves blown by the monsoon.
"Perhaps…" began Chachu.
Dasal shook his head. Standing next to him, his brother Dasal did likewise.
"Not a chance," said Jaisal curtly. " Look at them, out there."
"We don't even know what it's about, yet," whined Chachu. One of the other kings who formed the council grunted something in the way of agreement.
Dasal shrugged. "Don't be foolish. No, we don't know exactly what news-or instructions-that cavalry column is bringing. But the gist of it is obvious."
He nodded toward the column, which was now advancing toward the gates with over a thousand other Rajput cavalrymen providing them with what was, for all practical purposes, an escort of honor.
"The new emperor sent them. Or Rana Sanga. Or both. And they will be demanding the allegiance of all Rajputs. So what do we say?"
He had no answer, himself. The Rajput heart that beat within him was just as eager as any of those young warriors out there. But that heart had now beaten for almost eighty years. Each and every year of which had hammered caution into his mind, whatever his heart might feel.
"Let's return to the council chamber and await them there," suggested Jaisal.
That might help. A bit.
"Yes," Dasal said.
But when they returned to the council chamber, they discovered it had been pre-empted from them already. The seven thrones had been removed from their accustomed places in a half-circle at the elevated dais. They were now resting, still in a half-circle, facing the dais.