Fortune's stroke

held, that he discovered he would have a bodyguard after all.

Valentinian helped him down. The cataphract was not wearing any armor, beyond a light Rajput helmet, but he was carrying a sword slung from a baldric. And, of course, knives and daggers. Belisarius could see three of them, thrust into a wide sash. He did not doubt there were as many more, secreted away somewhere. Most men counted wealth in coins. Valentinian counted wealth in blades.

'How are you feeling?' asked Belisarius.

Valentinian's narrow face grew even more pinched. 'Not too well, sir, to be honest. I stopped seeing double, at least. But my head still hurts, more often than not, and I don't have much strength back.'

Valentinian glanced at the Malwa sitting in the open pavilion. They were out of hearing range. Damodara had politely allowed Valentinian to meet Belisarius alone.

'I'll do my best,' he whispered, 'if there's any trouble. But I've got to warn you that I'm not my old self. Not yet, anyway.'

Belisarius smiled. 'There won't be any trouble. And if there is, we'll have Sanga to protect us.'

Valentinian grimaced. 'Pity those poor bastards. God, that man's a demon.' Gingerly, he touched the light helmet on his head. 'I don't ever want to do that again, I'll tell you for sure. Not without him tied up, and me using grenades.'

Again, Valentinian glanced at the enemy in the pavilion. This time, however, it was a look of respect rather than suspicion.

'I've been well treated, general. Pampered like a lord, if you want to know the truth. Sanga himself has come to visit me, any number of times. Even Damodara.' A look of bemusement came to his face. 'He's actually a friendly sort of fellow, the fat little bugger. Odd, for a Malwa. Even got a sense of humor. Pretty good one.'

Belisarius shrugged. 'Why is that odd? The Malwa are humans, Valentinian, not gods.' Belisarius gave his own quick glance at the pavilion. 'Which is the reason, when the dust settles, that the new gods will find Malwa has failed them. They're trying to make perfection out of something which is not only imperfect by nature, but must be. Only imperfect things can grow, Valentinian. Striving for perfection is as foolish as it is vain. You can only create a statue-a thing which may look grand, on a pedestal, but will not stand up so well on the field of battle.'

Belisarius brought his eyes back to Valentinian. 'You swore an oath, I assume.'

Valentinian nodded. For a moment, he seemed uncomfortable. Not ashamed, simply. . awkward, like a peasant in the company of royalty. Men of Valentinian's class and station did not swear solemn oaths with the same practiced ease that nobility did.

'Yes, sir. They stopped putting a guard over me. But I had to swear that I would make no attempt to escape and that I wouldn't fight, except in self-defense. And I'll have to go back with them, of course, after this parley.'

Valentinian's feral, weasel grin made its appearance. 'On the other hand, they didn't make me swear I'd keep my mouth shut.' Another glance at the pavilion. 'I've learned some things, General. Real quick: you were right about Damodara's arms complex. It's in Marv, just like Vasudeva thought it might be. They'll have their own handcannons soon enough. The Malwa have already started making them, in Kausambi. But Damodara's boasting that he'll have his own, made in Marv.'

Belisarius shook his head. 'He wasn't boasting, Valentinian-and he didn't tell you by accident. He knows you'll pass on the information. He wants me to have it.'

Valentinian frowned. 'Why would he do that?'

'Because he's a very smart man. Smart enough to understand something which few generals do. Sometimes a secret given away can serve as well as a secret kept. Or even better. He's probably hoping I'll try to make a raid on Marv, once he forces me out of the Zagros, rather than retreating into Mesopotamia. The city's in an oasis, and I'm sure he's got it fortified like Satan's jaws. We'd be eaten alive, trying to storm the place, and the few table scraps would be snapped up in the desert.'

Valentinian squinted at him, as if he were seeing double. His hand, again, touched his helmet gingerly.

'Christ,' he muttered. 'How can you stand to think all crooked like that? My head hurts, just trying to follow.' He made a little hiss. 'And I still don't understand why Damodara would do it. He can't really think you'd fall for it.'

Belisarius shrugged. 'Probably not. But you never know. It's worth a try.' He scratched his chin. 'The man's a lot like me, I believe. In some ways, at least. He likes an oblique approach, and he keeps his eye on all the angles.'

Another hiss came from Valentinian. 'God, my head hurts.'

Belisarius took Valentinian by the arm and began leading him toward the pavilion. As they neared, walking slowly, Valentinian remembered something else.

'Oh, yeah. Maurice was right about Narses, too. He's-'

Belisarius nodded. He had already spotted the small figure of the old eunuch in the shade of the pavilion.

He smiled crookedly. 'I imagine, by now, that Narses is running the whole show for Damodara.'

Valentinian grinned. It was an utterly murderous expression.

'Would you believe how successful that raid was? You know-the cavalry raid against the Malwa camp that you must have ordered, even though I never knew about it and I was right by your side the whole time.'

Belisarius grinned himself. 'A brilliant stroke, that was. So brilliant that my own memory is blinded.'

Mine too, concurred Aide. Firmly: But I'm sure you must have ordered it. And I'm quite sure the raid was a roaring success.

'Killed every one of Damodara's top spies,' murmured Valentinian. They were almost at the pavilion. 'Vicious Romans slit their throats, neat as you could ask for.'

They were entering the pavilion, now. Valentinian moved aside and Belisarius strode to the low table at the center. Damodara and Sanga nodded a greeting. Damodara was smiling; Sanga, stiff and solemn. Narses, sitting far back from the table, was glaring. But he, too, managed a nod.

Gracefully, with the practiced ease of his time in India, Belisarius folded himself into a lotus and took a seat on one of the cushions.

He saw no reason to waste time on meaningless diplomatic phrasery.

'What is the purpose of this parley?' he asked. The statement, for all the brusqueness of the words, was not so much a demand as a simple inquiry. 'I can't see where there's any military business to discuss.' He waved at Valentinian. 'Unless you've changed your mind about his ransom.'

Damodara chuckled. Belisarius continued.

'So what's the point of talking? You're trying to get into Mesopotamia, and I'm trying to stop you. Slow you down, more precisely. You've managed to drive me almost out of the Zagros-we're not so many miles from the floodplains, now-but I kept you tied up for months in the doing. That's bought time for Emperor Khusrau, and time for my general Agathius to build up the Roman forces in Mesopotamia.'

Belisarius shrugged. 'I'm going to keep doing it, and you're going to keep doing it. Sooner or later-sooner, probably-I'll give up the effort and retreat to Peroz-Shapur. Maybe Ctesiphon. Maybe somewhere else. Then we'll fight it out in the open. I imagine you're looking forward to that. But you won't enjoy it, when the time comes. So much, I can promise.'

Damodara shook his head, still smiling. 'I did not ask for this parley in order to discuss military affairs. As you say, the matter is moot.'

Still smiling; very cheerfully, in fact: 'And I don't doubt for a minute that you'll make it just as tough for us on flat ground as you have in the mountains.'

Sanga snorted, as a man does when he hears another man announce that the sun rises in the east.

'I asked for this parley, Belisarius, simply because I wanted to meet you. Finally, after all these months. And also-'

The Malwa lord hesitated. 'And, also, because I thought we might discuss the future. The far future, I mean, not the immediate present.'

Bull's-eye. Am I a genius, Aide?

A true and certain genius, came the immediate response. But I still don't understand how you figured it out.