The Dance of Time

It was a knowing sort of examination, not the vacant stare that most imperial courtiers would have given such a purely military matter. Damodara had realized long since that Narses was as shrewd with regard to military affairs as he was with all others. Despite his age, and the fact that he was eunuch, Damodara was quite sure that Narses would make an excellent general himself.

What am I going to do with Narses? he asked himself, not for the first time. If I take the throne, do I dare keep such a man around? It'd be like sharing a sleeping chamber with a cobra.

The solution was obvious, but Damodara felt himself resisting that impulse. Whatever else, Narses had served him well for years. Superbly well, in fact. Had even, most likely, kept his family and that of Rana Sanga alive where they would have been murdered by Malwa otherwise.

It would bode ill, Damodara thought, if he began what amounted to a new dynasty in all but name with an act of treachery.

But what else can I do? The Romans certainly won't take him back. And the Persians and the Axumites and the Kushans know his reputation too well to entertain the thought of employing him, either.

What else is there, but an executioner or an assassin's blade?

Perhaps he could have him poisoned…

Damodara shook his head and went back to the matter immediately at hand.

"You think too much like an assassin, Ajatasutra. When the time comes, Rana Sanga is ready to lead the charge. He'll take ten thousand of his Rajputs. But first we must fix Skandagupta's entire attention on this side of the city. I don't have a large enough army to invest Kausambi, and the emperor-ah, the false emperor-knows it. At least, his commanders will tell him so. So, now that I've massed my troops here before the western gates and"-he gestured with his head toward the heavy artillery berms his engineers were constructing-"am setting up the siege guns I brought from Mathura, he'll concentrate his own troops on these walls, and at these gates."

Whether or not he was inclined to argue the matter, Ajatasutra made no attempt to do so. Instead, he began thoughtfully scratching his chin.

"How long, Emperor? Before you can order Sanga's charge, I mean."

Damodara shrugged. "Hard to know. Not for a few days, certainly."

"In that case, I should return to Kausambi. They could use me there, when the time comes. Whereas here…"

He waved his hand, indicating the soldiers under Damodara's command who were setting up their own camps and lines of defense against any possible sallies from the city. "Merely one blade among tens of thousands of others."

"Certainly. But…" Damodara's eyes widened a bit. " Can you get back into the city? By now, the guards will be on the alert for spies."

"Oh, yes. Don't forget that they're mediocre guards, and"-Ajatasutra cleared his throat modestly-"I am very far from a mediocre assassin. I'll get in."

His good humor faded, however, as he contemplated his superb horse. "Alas, the horse won't. Not even sorry garrison troops will think it's a tinker's nag."

He bowed low. "May I present him to Your Majesty, then? A token of my esteem. No! My awe at Your effulgent presence, divine in its aspect."

Damodara laughed. And what was he to do with Ajatasutra, for that matter, if he took the throne? He didn't doubt the assassin's loyalty, but within a few years Ajatasutra's mocking ways would have half the courtiers in Kausambi demanding his head.

But there'd be time enough to deal with that later. First, he had to take Kausambi.

"Go, Ajatasutra. If we're both still alive in a few days, I'll return the horse."

It seemed impolitic to add: You might need it.

From their position just south of the junction of the Ganges and Yamuna rivers, the five members of the Malwa assassination team stared at the empire's capital city. That part of it they could see looked fine. But they could easily hear the sound of big guns firing to the west.

"Marvelous," snarled the captain. "Just perfect. After ten thousand miles-more like eleven, by now-we finally get back to Kausambi-having succeeded in doing nothing-and the city's under siege."

"We'll never get in," said his lieutenant, morosely. "No way the guards will pass five strange men."

It was true enough. No doubt, ensconced somewhere in the huge imperial palace, were the records that would identify the assassination team and establish their bona fides. Probably, even, two or three of Nanda Lal's subordinates who would recognize them personally. The captain and the lieutenant, at least.

And so what? The odds that any such spymasters would heed a summons from a gate's guards-assuming the guards were willing to send a summons in the first place, instead of simply killing the five assassins and saving themselves a lot of possible trouble-were too low to even think about.

"No hope for it," he sighed. "We may as well cross the Ganges and set up camp on the other side, as close as we can get to the eastern gate. Maybe something will turn up."

His lieutenant eyed the distance. "At least it's not far." He spit on the ground. "We laugh at a few miles, after so many wasted thousands."

Chapter 37

The Ganges

There had been many times, since the war began, that Belisarius had been glad to have Abbu and his Arab scouts in his service.

Never more than now.

"Idiot Rajputs would have gotten you into another war, General," said the old bedouin chief, scowling. "Are they blind? Who else wears topknots?"

Abbu was being a little uncharitable, but… only a little. It was not as if Rajputs weren't familiar with Kushans. Until recently, there had been tens of thousands of Kushans in the Malwa military, many of whom had served in the same armies as Rajputs, if not in the same units.

On the other hand-being charitable-there were still a considerable number of Kushans in the service of the Malwa empire. By no means all of the Kushans had defected after Kungas re-created the old Kushan kingdom.

But they were no longer trusted, and there was no possibility at all that Link had included Kushan units in its army when it marched from the Punjab. Even idiot Rajputs should have understood that much.

Even idiot teenage Rajputs.

"They're still young," muttered old Jaisal. "Young men don't think of these things."

Belisarius squelched his irritation. It would be purely stupid to offend the Rajputs who constituted almost his entire army, after all.

"Well, there was no harm done, apparently. The Kushans fled the scene as soon as contact was made and"-he cleared his throat, as diplomatically as possible-"the Rajput cavalrymen immediately began firing on them."

That fact was interesting, in and of itself. Under normal circumstances, Kushans were quite belligerent enough to have responded to the initial Rajput bow fire by attacking them. Especially since, by all accounts-those of the Rajputs as well as the Arab scouts-the Kushans had outnumbered the Rajput cavalry unit.

Abbu put his thoughts into words. "They were expecting us, General. Only possible answer."

"Yes." Belisarius scratched his chin. "I'm almost sure that means Kungas himself is here. He must have gambled that Maurice could keep the main Malwa army pi

"Bold man!"

Belisarius smiled. "Well, yes. A timid fellow would hardly have marched across Central Asia in the middle of the world's greatest war to set up a new kingdom. With a new Greek bookworm wife, to boot."

Abbu had met Irene. "Crazy man," he muttered, his scowl returning.

Belisarius swiveled in the saddle to face Dasal and the other Rajput kings. "Can you keep your men under control? I have got to establish contact with the Kushans-and, as Abbu says, I don't need to start a new war with my allies."