Fortune's stroke

The queen pointed to the sheet in front of her. "I was just finishing a letter to John of Rhodes, thanking him for the last shipment of guns. We have enough now to outfit the first two vessels."

"Good, good," grunted Eon, coming up to the table. "I want to get them out to sea at once, so we can start ravaging the supply fleet as soon as it leaves Bharakuccha."

He leaned over and nuzzled his wife's hair. Smiling, she reached up and drew his head alongside her own. "There is more good news," she whispered.

Eon cocked his eyebrow. Rukaiya's smile widened.

"We'll call him Wahsi, of course, if it's a boy. But you really should start thinking about girls' names, too."

A question and an answer

Kungas rose from the bed and padded to the window. Planting his hands on the sill, he stared out over Deogiri. The city was dark, except for the lamps glowing in one of the rooms of the nearby palace.

His lips twitched. "It's a good thing for him that he has an understanding wife."

Irene levered herself onto an elbow. "What? Is Dadaji working late again?"

Seeing the Kushan's nod, she chuckled. " `Understanding' is hardly the word for it, Kungas. She'll be sitting there herself, you know that. As patient as the moon."

Kungas said nothing. Irene studied him, for a moment, reading the subtle signs in his face.

"What is it, Kungas?" she asked. "You've been preoccupied with something all night."

Kungas tapped the windowsill with his fingers. Irene stiffened, slightly. That was as close as the Kushan ever came to expressing nervous apprehension.

"What is it?" she demanded. "And don't tell any fables. You've got the jitters, I know you do. Something which involves me."

Kungas sighed. "Thereare disadvantages," he muttered, "to a smart woman." He turned away from the window and came back to the bed. Then, sitting on the edge, he gave Irene a level stare.

Abruptly: "I spoke to Kanishka and Kujulo today. About Peshawar, and my plans for the future."

She nodded approvingly. Kanishka and Kujulo were the key officers in the small army of Kushans serving Shakuntala. Irene had been pressing Kungas for weeks to raise the subject with them.

"And?" she asked, cocking her head.

"They have agreed to join me. They said, on balance, that they thought I would make a good king."

Again, he sighed. "Nonetheless, they were critical. Rather harshly so, in fact. They feel that I have neglected the first requirement of a successful dynasty."

He looked away. "They are quite correct, of course. So I promised them I would see to the matter immediately. If possible."

Irene stared at him, for a moment. Then she bolted upright, clutching the sheets to her chest.

"What?"she hissed. "You expect me-me, a Greek noblewoman accustomed to luxury and comfort-to go traipsing off with you into the wilds of Central Asia? Squat in some ruins in the middle of mountains and deserts, surrounded by barbarian hordes and God-knows-what other dangers?" Her eyes were very wide. "Be a queen for a bunch of Kushan mercenaries with delusions of grandeur? Spend the rest of my life in a desperate struggle to forge a kingdom out of nothing?"

Other than a slight tightening of his jaws, Kungas' face was a rigid mask. "I don'texpect," he said softly. "I am simply asking. Hoping."

Irene flung her arms around his neck and dragged him down. Within a second, the huge, heavy bed was practically bouncing off the floor from her sheer energy. Quiver, shiver; quake and shake.

"Oh, Kungas!" she squealed. "We're going to have so muchfun!"

A reminder and a distinction

When he finished reading the letter from Emperor Skandagupta, Damodara turned his head and stared at the Tigris. For a moment, his gaze followed the river's course, north to Assyria-and Anatolia, and Constantinople beyond. Then, for a longer moment, the gaze came to rest on his army's camp. It was a well-built camp, solid, strong. Almost a permanent fort, after all the weeks of work.

"That's it, then," he said softly. "It's over."

He turned to the man at his side, folding the letter. "Prepare the army, Rana Sanga. We have been summoned back to India. The emperor urges great haste."

Sanga nodded. He began to turn away, but stopped. "If I may ask, Lord-what is to be our new assignment?"

Damodara sighed heavily. "Unrest is spreading all over India. The Deccan is in full revolt. Venandakatra has been driven back into Bharakuccha. He is confident that he can hold the city unaided, though he can't reconquer Majarashtra without assistance. That will end up being our task, no doubt. But first we must subdue Bihar and Bengal, while the emperor rebuilds the main army. He expects the Romans to attack our northwest provinces within a year. Two years, at the outside."

Sanga said nothing. But his face grew tight.

"It appears that you will be meeting Raghunath Rao again some day," mused Damodara. "After all these years. The bards and poets will be drooling."