The Dance of Time

It was true enough, and Tarun knew it as well as anyone else in the stable. The soldiers and laborers engaged in digging up the area looking for the hideaways had been slacking off, for at least a week. "Slacking off," at least, in the sense of not getting much done that was of any use. To be sure, they managed to look as if they were working frenziedly. But most of it was make-work; literally, moving soil and rubble back and forth from one hole or pile to another.

You could hardly blame them. Every time they'd uncovered something, whoever was in charge wound up getting beheaded or impaled. Over time, of course, reports of no progress at all would be met with equal punishment. But that took more time than success.

By this point, in besieged Kausambi, most people were simply buying time.

* * *

Not everyone.

Lady Damodara appeared in the stall. "Ajatasutra's back. He wants to know—"

"How soon?" asked the assassin himself, coming right behind her. "Inquiring emperors want to know."

Valentinian grinned, mirthlessly. "Now that you're here, how's tomorrow morning sound?"

Tarun gulped.

"You'll do fine," Rajiv assured him. "But you'd better leave now. It's a big city and you've got a ways to go. And you need to be in place before sunrise."

"It's dark outside," Tarun protested.

"Of course it is," said Valentinian. "That's the plan. Now, go."

Tarun made no further protest. Whatever else he might be worried about was merely a possibility, involving someone else or something else at some other place and time.

Valentinian was here and now. Tarun went.

* * *

Belisarius wasn't really worried about any Malwa patrols sent out by Link. Where Belisarius had twenty thousand cavalrymen and Kungas had fifteen thousand dragoons, the monster had had only had three thousand cavalry to begin with. Far fewer than that, now, between the casualties they'd suffered in various clashes and—the crudest factor of all—the fact that they were now beginning to butcher their horses for the meat.

Still, he saw no reason to take chances. So, he made the rendezvous with Kungas well before daybreak.

The Kushan king was waiting for him, in one of the few huts in the small village that had escaped the Rajputs' arson. He was squatting on the dirt floor, with a bottle of rice wine and two cups.

"Nice to see you again," he said, pouring Belisarius a drink. "I'd worry about you getting drunk, except you can drink like a fish and this stuff's so thin it doesn't matter anyway. Best I could find."

Smiling, Belisarius squatted and took the cup. "I'm delighted to see you—and surprised. You took a mighty gamble, coming here from the Hindu Kush."

Kungas made the little shoulder twitch that did him for a shrug. "I figured you'd be here, somewhere. And since I'm a Kushan king, I need to prove I'm a great gambler or I'll soon enough have people muttering that I'm unfit to rule. Most of all, though, I want to see that bitch finally dead."

Belisarius swallowed the wine in one gulp. It was not a big gulp, however, since it was a very small cup.

Just as well. The stuff was wretched as well as thin. Exactly the sort of wine you'd expect to find in a poor fishing village.

The face he made, though, was not due to the wine.

"Then I hate to say this, but you're in for a big disappointment. The one thing we're not going to do is kill Great Lady Sati."

Kungas' eyes widened slightly. In his minimalist manner, that signified astonishment.

"Why in the world not?" Accusingly, almost plaintively, he added: "You killed her predecessor, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. And I will say that few things in my life gave me more satisfaction than seeing Great Lady Holi die. But that was another place, another time, and under different circumstances. Here, and now, we want Sati simply isolated—but still alive."

He set the cup down on the floor. "That was a battle. This is the battle. More accurately, this is a holding action while the final battle is fought elsewhere, by Damodara."

Kungas tugged at his wisp of a goatee. "Um. You're gambling yourself."

"Yes and no. I'm not gambling—well, not much of a gamble—that Damodara will have reached Kausambi by now. What I'm gambling is simply that it will take him some time to break into the city. I've seen those defenses. Nothing in the world matches them, except possibly the ancient fortifications at Babylon."

The Kushan king's beard-tugging became more vigorous. "Damnation, Belisarius..."

The Roman general just waited, patiently. The best way to persuade Kungas of anything was to let him persuade himself. Beneath that impassive exterior, the Kushan was as smart as anyone Belisarius had ever known—and he was privy to all the secrets of Link's methods of rule. Belisarius had briefed Kungas and Irene extensively on the matter, before they left Constantinople on their great expedition to the Hindu Kush.

"Damnation," Kungas repeated. But the word, this time, was simply said fatalistically.

Belisarius waited. The Kushan's hand fell from the beard.