Fortune's stroke

'Where do we stand with the new warships?' asked the King of Kings, striding into the room which served Axum as its war center.

Rukaiya looked up from her table in the center of the room. It was a large table, but little of its expanse was visible. Most of it was covered with scrolls and bound sheets of papyrus.

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. 'There are 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't expect,' 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 much fun!'

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.'

Damodara studied Sanga closely. Then said, very softly: 'The day may come, Rana Sanga-may come-when I will have to ask you to remember your oath.'

Sanga's face, already tight, became as strained as a taut sheet. 'I do not need to be reminded of honor, Lord Damodara,' he grated harshly.

Damodara shook his head. 'I did not say I would ask you to honor your oath, Sanga. Simply to remember it.'

Sanga frowned. 'What is the distinction?'

There was no answer. After a moment, shrugging angrily, Sanga stalked off.

Damodara remained behind, staring at the river. He found some comfort, perhaps, in the study of moving water.

A concern and an explanation

'I am your obedient servant, Lord,' said Narses, bowing his head.

As soon as Damodara left the tent, Narses' face broke into a grin. 'We're on,' he muttered, rubbing his hands.

Ajatasutra looked up from the chess board. 'What are you so excited about?'

Narses stared at him. The grin faded, replaced by something which bordered on sadness.

'You have become like a son to me,' said Narses abruptly.

Ajatasutra's face went blank. For a moment, no more. Then, a sly smile came. 'That's not entirely reassuring, Narses. As I recall, the last time you adopted a spiritual offspring you tried to murder her.'

Narses waved his hand. 'Not right away,' he countered. 'Not for many years, in fact. Besides-'

The eunuch sat on the chair facing Ajatasutra. He stared down at the chess board. 'Besides, the situation isn't comparable. She was an empress. You're just a poor adventurer.'

Ajatasutra snorted. Narses glanced at the small chest in the corner of the tent. 'Well-relatively speaking.'

The assassin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair. 'Why don't you just come out with it, Narses? If you want to know my loyalties, ask.'