It was true enough. It was still barely possible to make out the intact pirate ships in the gathering darkness, but not by much.
“New moon, too,” added Eon. “There won’t be any light at all in a few minutes.”
Another volley of rockets was fired. Belisarius noted that the kshatriyas had angled all six of the troughs around so that all of the rockets were fired toward a single ship. Even so, only one of the rockets struck. Fortunately, the missile hit directly amidships and exploded with a satisfying roar. That vessel, clearly enough, was doomed.
Just before the last glimmer of daylight faded, it was possible to see the pirate galleys beginning to surround the Indian ship. They were now keeping a distance, however, waiting for nightfall. Between that distance, and being widely spread out, it was obvious that the rockets were no longer of much use.
Two more wasted volleys made the point before Venandakatra began calling out new orders. Immediately, three of the rocket crews began transferring their troughs to the starboard rail of the ship. For their part, the three remaining rocket crews began spacing their troughs more widely down the port length of the ship. The Malwa, it was obvious, were positioning the rocket launchers to repel boarders.
Venandakatra shouted new orders. Listening, Belisarius could begin to understand the meaning. He realized that the jewel was once again working its strange magic. The Malwa language was called Hindi, and Belisarius knew not a word of it. But, suddenly, the language came into focus in his mind. The shrill words spoken by several kshatriyas in response to Venandakatra’s commands were as clear as day.
“The Indian rocket-men are not happy,” whispered Garmat. “They are complaining that-”
“They will be burned if they do as Venandakatra orders,” completed Belisarius absently.
The Axumite adviser was startled. “I did not realize you spoke Hindi.”
Belisarius began to reply, closed his mouth. Garmat, again, was staring at him strangely.
I’m going to have to come up with an explanation for him, when this is all over. Damn all shrewd advisers, anyway!
Venandakatra shouted down the protests. His Mahaveda priests added their own comments, prominent among them the promise to bring the mahamimamsa “purifiers” from the hold below.
The kshatriyas snarled, but hurried to obey. All of the troughs were now tilted until they were pointing at a slight angle downward. More hide bundles were piled up at the rear of the troughs, but it was obvious from the kshatriyas’ worried frowns that they did not think the hides would suffice to completely shield them from the rocket flames. The fire which would erupt from the rocket tails would now be shooting upward.
Another alien thought seeped through the barrier. back-blast.
Darkness was now complete, except for the faint light thrown by the few lanterns held by Ye-tai warriors. Belisarius saw Venandakatra staring at him. A moment later, with obvious reluctance, the Indian lord made his way toward the bow of the ship.
When he reached Belisarius, the general spoke before Venandakatra could even open his mouth.
“I am well aware that the pirates will concentrate their attack on the bow and stern, where the-where your fire-weapons cannot be brought to bear. Look to the stern, Venandakatra. There will be no breach at the bow.”
Venandakatra frowned. “There are not many of you,” he said. “I could send some-”
“No. More men would simply crowd the bow, making it more difficult for us. And I do not have time to learn how to incorporate Malwa warriors into our tactics. Whereas Romans and Axumites are old allies, long accustomed to fighting side by side.” The lie came smooth as silk.
Garmat’s face was expressionless. The sarwen grunted loud agreement, as did Anastasius and Valentinian. Eon started slightly, but a quick poke from his dawazz brought stillness. Menander looked confused, but the Indian was not looking his way, and almost immediately, Valentinian changed the young Thracian’s expression with a silent snarl.
“You are certain?” demanded Venandakatra.
Belisarius smiled graciously. “I said you would be glad to have us, soon enough.”
Venandakatra’s face grew pinched, but the Indian forebore further comment. After a moment, he scurried away and began shouting new orders. Belisarius could understand the words, and knew that the commands which Venandakatra was shrilling were utterly redundant and pointless. A disgruntled grandee making noise to assure himself of his importance, that was all.
“Verily, a foul man,” muttered Garmat. “Long ago, the Axumites had a king much like him. The sarawit assassinated the wretch and created the institution of dawazz the next day.”
“Do you really think they’re going to attack?” asked Menander suddenly. Seeing all eyes upon him, the young cataphract straightened.
“I’m not afraid!” he protested. “It’s just-it doesn’t make sense.”
“I’m afraid it does,” countered Garmat. The adviser grimaced. “I am myself half-Arab, and I know my mother’s people well. The tribes of the Hadrawmat”-he pointed to the southern shore of Arabia, now lost in the darkness-“are very poor. Fishermen, mostly, and smugglers. A great ship like this represents a fortune to them. They will gladly suffer heavy casualties in order to capture it.”
Ousanas chuckled. “Believe wise old mongrel, young Roman. Most despicable people in world, the Arabs. Full of vice and sins!”
Garmat squinted.
“O many vices! Many sins!”
Garmat looked pained.
“Lechery! Avarice! Cruelty!”
Garmat frowned.
“Treachery! Sloth! Envy!”
Garmat glowered.
“Would be great gluttons if not so poor!”
Garmat ground his teeth.
“Alas, Arabs unfamiliar with cowardice.”
Garmat smiled. Ousanas shook his head sadly.
“Is because Arabs so stupid. Cowardice mankind’s only useful vice. Naturally Arabs know nothing of it.”
“I heard a story years ago,” mused Anastasius, “that there was a cowardly Arab living somewhere in the Empty Quarter.” He spit into the sea. “I didn’t believe it, myself.”
“They’re coming,” announced Valentinian. “I can’t see them, but I can hear them.”
Belisarius glanced at Valentinian. As so often before on the verge of battle, the cataphract reminded the general of nothing so much as a weasel. The sharp features; the long, lean whipcord body; the poised stillness, like a coiled spring; and, most of all, the utter intensity of the killer’s concentration. At these moments, Valentinian’s senses were almost superhuman.
Belisarius sighed. The choice was now upon him and could no longer be postponed.
Secrecy be damned, he decided. These men-all of them-are my comrades. I cannot betray them.
The general stepped to the very prow of the ship.
“There are two ships approaching us,” he announced. He pointed, and pointed again. “There, and there. The one on the right is closer.”
He heard a slight cough behind him.
“Trust me, Garmat. I can see them almost as well as if it were daytime. They are there, just as I have described.”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled crookedly.
“The steersman you pointed out earlier is on that closer ship, Ousanas. Make good your boast.”
For once, the dawazz was not grinning. Ousanas stared into the darkness for a moment, then looked back at the general.
“You are witch,” he announced.
Belisarius made a face.
The grin made its inevitable appearance. Ousanas’ skin was so black that he was almost invisible except as a shape. Against that darkness, the grin was like a beacon of good cheer.
“Is not problem,” said the dawazz. Ousanas gestured toward the other warriors.
