In the Heart of Darkness

exchange, witnessing the abasement of high-ranked adolescent snots.

Within the next week, nine of the ten Malwa couriers died in Majarashtra. They traveled faster than the Maratha guerillas, of course, but the couriers were restricted to the roads and had no real knowledge of the countryside. Rao's young men, on the other hand, knew every shortcut through those volcanic hills. And every spot for a good ambush.

Of the fourteen royal couriers who had headed south from Kausambi weeks earlier, only one survived the journey. His route had been the northernmost of those taken by the couriers, and did not really do more than skirt the Great Country. So he arrived, eventually, at his destination. A tiny port nestled at the northern end of the Gulf.

Finally, everything went according to plan. The commander of the little garrison immediately mobilized his troops and began a thorough and efficient patrol of the port and its environs. All ships-all three of them-were sequestered, prevented from leaving.

The commander was an aggressive, hard-driving officer. The small harbor was sealed tight. And so, according to plan, none of the enemy escaped through that port.

Which, as it happens, they had never had the slightest intention of doing.

Chapter 18

Had Nanda Lal not intervened, it might have come to blows. Rana Sanga would have been executed, thereafter, but he would have had the satisfaction of slaughtering Lord Tathagata like the swine that he was.

'Silence!' bellowed the spymaster, as soon as he charged into the room. 'Both of you!'

Nanda Lal had a powerful voice. It was distorted somewhat, due to his shattered nose, but still powerful. And the spymaster's voice was filled with a pure black fury so ugly it would have silenced anyone.

That mood had settled on Nanda Lal as soon as he recovered consciousness on the floor of Great Lady Holi's barge. On the blood-soaked carpet, stained by his own wound, where a foreign demon's boot had sent him sprawling.

A week had gone by, now, and his rage had not lifted. It was a spymaster's rage-icy, not hot, but utterly merciless.

Sanga clenched his jaws. He stared at Nanda Lal, not out of rude curiosity, but simply because he could no longer bear the sight of Lord Tathagata's fat, stupid, pig of a face. Then, realizing that his stare could be misconstrued, Sanga looked away.

In truth, the Malwa Empire's chief of espionage was a sight to behold. On almost any other man, that huge bandage wrapped around his face would have given him a comical appearance. It simply made Nanda Lal look like an ogre.

Tathagata, recovering from his startlement, transferred his fury onto Nanda Lal.

'What is the meaning of this?' demanded the Malwa army's top officer. 'It's outrageous! You have no right to issue commands here! This is purely a military matter, Nanda Lal-I'll thank you to mind your own-'

Nanda Lal's next words came hissing like a snake.

'If you so much as finish that sentence, Tathagata, you will discover what rights I have and do not have. I guarantee the discovery will shock you. But only briefly. You will be dead within the hour.'

Lord Tathagata choked on the sentence. His jaw hung loose. His eyes-wide as a flatfish-goggled about the room, as if searching the magnificence of his headquarters to find something that would gainsay Nanda Lal's statement.

Apparently, he found nothing. Such, at least, was Rana Sanga's interpretation of his continued silence.

Nanda Lal stalked into the room. He did not bother to close the door behind him. Sanga could see, through that door, a part of a room. One of the Emperor's own private chambers, he realized. Sanga had never entered that room, himself. The Rajput's only contact with Skandagupta had been in chambers given over to public gatherings. He was now in a part of the Grand Palace which was essentially unknown to him. The very core of that great edifice, and the power which rested within it.

'Why are you here, Sanga?' asked the spymaster. His voice, now, was low and calm.

Sanga began to explain his theory about Belisarius' escape, but Nanda Lal interrupted him immediately.

'Not that, Sanga. I've already heard that.' The spymaster began to make a wry grimace, but the pain in his nose cut the expression short. He waved toward the open door.

'We all heard that much. The Emperor himself sent me in here to stop your shouting.' A hard glance at Tathagata, still gaping like a blowfish. 'And his. We couldn't hear ourselves think, for the commotion.' All trace of amusement vanished. 'I ask again: why are you here?'

Sanga understood.

'I want the authority to lead a search for Belisarius to the west. That's where he's gone. I'm certain of it.'

Lord Tathagata's outrage, finally, could contain itself no longer. But-carefully-he made sure it was directed at the Rajput.

'This is insolent madness, Nanda Lal,' he grated. 'The stinking Rajput just got tired of-'

He was silenced, this time, by the Emperor's own voice.

'Bring them both here, Nanda Lal,' came the imperial command from the next room.

Tathagata ground his teeth. But he said nothing, even though his face was flushed with anger.

The next words, coming from the adjoining room, caused his fat face to go pale. Words spoken by an old woman.

'Yes, Nanda Lal, bring them here. At once.'

Rana Sanga was surprised by the Emperor's private chamber. It was much smaller than he expected, and almost-well, 'utilitarian' hardly fit a room with such tapestries and furnishings. But, compared to any other setting in which the Rajput kinglet had ever seen his sovereign, the chamber was almost stark and bare.

There were three occupants in the room. Emperor Skandagupta, his daughter Sati, and his aunt the Great Lady Holi. Sanga had seen both of the women before, on ceremonial occasions, but only from a distance. He had never spoken to either of them.

He was struck by their appearance. Neither of the women was veiled. The princess Sati was a beautiful young woman, abstractly, but she seemed as remote as the horizon. The Great Lady Holi seemed even more distant, especially when Sanga met her eyes. Blank, empty eyes. Vacant eyes.

More than their appearance, however, what impressed Sanga was their chairs. Not spectacular, those chairs, by imperial standards. But they were every bit as good as the Emperor's. No one, in Sanga's experience, ever sat in a chair which was as good as the Emperor's. Not in the same room that he occupied, at least.

Sanga did not have time to ponder the significance of the fact, however. Lord Tathagata, again, could not restrain his outrage.

'Your Majesty-Great Lady Holi-I must insist that this Rajput be punished. Severely. What is at stake here is nothing less than the most essential military discipline. This-this-this dog disobeyed my express-'

Great Lady Holi's tone of voice was as vacant as her eyes. But the words themselves were like a knife. Cold, thin, sharp.

'What is at stake here, Tathagata, is the incompetence of our military command. Every word you speak illustrates it further.'

Tathagata gasped. Sanga, watching, realized the man was utterly terrified. The Rajput kinglet transferred his gaze back to the Great Lady. His face bore no expression, but his mind was a solid frown of puzzlement. He could see nothing in that elderly female figure to cause such pure fear. Except, possibly, those eyes.

Is she a power behind the throne? he wondered. I've heard tales- witchcraft, sorcery-but I never took them seriously.

The Emperor spoke now, to Tathagata. Like a cobra might speak to its prey. A short, pudgy, unprepossessing cobra. But a cobra for all that.