In the Heart of Darkness

'Trouble?' The whetstone never ceased its motion.

The lieutenant shook his head.

'We don't think so.'

No expression at all crossed the officer's face. It seemed, in its rigid immobility, like an iron mask.

'Too bad,' he murmured. He held the blade up to the sunlight, inspecting its edge. 'My men are a little rusty. Could use a bit of honing.'

A month later, Rana Sanga returned to his home near Jaipur. He had not seen his family in a year, and he had decided he must do so before he went on to Kausambi. He might never have the chance again. When he reported his failure to capture Belisarius, he would be punished. Possibly even executed.

To Sanga's surprise, Lord Damodara was waiting for him at the Rajput king's residence. He had arrived two weeks earlier, sure that Sanga would come there first, whether the news was good or foul.

As eager as he was to greet his family-Lord Damodara politely offered to wait until he had done so-Sanga insisted on giving his report first. He and Damodara met in a small room adjoining the great hall which served Sanga as his royal audience chamber. They sat on cushions across from each other at a low table. Alone, after servants had placed tea and pastries for their refreshment.

Sanga's report was full, precise, and unsparing. But as he came to the final episodes of their pursuit of Belisarius, Damodara cut him short.

'Never mind the rest, Sanga. The gist, I assume, is that you found no sign of him in Barbaricum or any of the other small ports?'

Sanga shook his head. 'None, Lord Damodara. I am convinced he took ship there, somewhere, but he disguised his traces perfectly. If they investigate-long enough-Nanda Lal's spies can probably discover the truth. But-'

'What is the point?' asked Damodara. He waved a pudgy little hand in dismissal. 'If they find any evidence, it will be far too late to do any good.'

He sipped at his tea. Munched on a pastry.

'Such an investigation would do nothing but harm,' he stated. 'Great harm, in fact.'

Sanga sat stiffly, silent. Damodara eyed him for a moment. Then, surprisingly, smiled. 'You are, indeed, the true Rajput. Honor above all.'

Sanga, if such were possible, stiffened further.

'I am not Rajput,' rasped Damodara. 'I respect your view of things, Rana Sanga-I even believe that I understand that view-but I do not share it.' Harshly: 'I am Malwa. And, thus, am a practical man. I was sent here to meet you, and assess the results of your search. I have now done so.'

Another sip of tea.

'Here are my findings. Rana Sanga, acting on the possibility that Belisarius might have made his escape to the west, led a long, rigorous, and most diligent search- all the way to Barbaricum, no less!'

Another sip of tea.

'No trace of Belisarius was found. For a time, it appeared that the Rajputs were on his trail. But, in the end, it proved a false lead. The only things actually found were a ragged peddler and the bloody trail of a Ye-tai deserter from the royal bodyguard, who fled the Empire after viciously murdering several soldiers and royal couriers and robbing a merchant.'

Sanga began to protest. Damodara drove him down.

'Nothing proves otherwise, Rana Sanga. Your suspicions were simply groundless. That is all.' Another wave of his hand. The gesture done, the hand reached for a pastry.

'There is no evidence,' concluded Damodara. 'Nothing solid. Nothing concrete.'

Satisfied-self-satisfied-Damodara popped the pastry into his mouth.

'There is,' grated Sanga. He reached into his tunic, brought forth a small pouch, opened it, and spilled its contents onto the table between them.

An emerald. Small, but dazzling.

Damodara choked on his pastry. Coughing, he reached for his tea and hastily washed his throat clear.

'Rajput,' he muttered, setting down the tea cup. He glared at the emerald.

The glare was brief. When he looked up, Damodara was smiling again.

'This, I presume, is the emerald which you say Belisarius gave the peddler? One of the emeralds from the Emperor's gift?'

Sanga nodded stiffly.

Damodara laughed. 'What nonsense!' Shaking his head: 'Any Rajput in the world can gauge a sword or a horse at a glance, but show them a jewel-'

For all its plumpness, Damodara's hand moved like a lizard on a hot rock snatching an insect. The emerald disappeared into his own tunic. Sternly: 'These counterfeiters! Shameless criminals! I shall report this latest outrage to the appropriate bureau in Kausambi upon my return.' Again, the waving hand. 'Whichever it is. I believe the Ranabhandagaradhikara's office in the treasury handles counterfeiting. Perhaps the police Bhukti. One of those small departments, buried somewhere in the Grand Palace. Staffed by somnolent dullards.'

The Rajput King's protest was cut short.

'It is done, Rana Sanga! Finished. That is all.'

He rose. Sanga rose with him. The short Malwa commander stared up at the Rajput. He did not flinch in the least from the taller man's anger.

'My name is Lord Damodara,' he said softly. 'And I have reached my conclusion.'

Still without moving his eyes from Sanga's hot gaze, Damodara leaned over and scooped up another pastry. Popped it in his mouth.

'These are truly excellent,' he mumbled. 'Please give my compliments to your baker.'

Sanga was still glaring. Damodara sighed.

'Rana Sanga, so far as Malwa is concerned, the truth is clear. Belisarius escaped-with his men- to the south. The royal couriers who were to have alerted the port garrisons were all ambushed along the way by savage Maratha brigands. So the wicked foreign general and his accomplices were able to make their escape on an Axumite ship waiting in the harbor. By predesign, undoubtedly. We have-had-a clear description of one of those accomplices from a naval officer who failed to stop the ship. A vivid description.' Coldly: 'For his failure to capture that ship, the naval officer has been executed. Along with the commander of Bharakuccha's garrison.'

Sanga snorted. Damodara, expressionless:

'Impaled, both of them. At Lord Venandakatra's command, as soon as the Goptri arrived in Bharakuccha.'

Damodara, his face as blank as ice:

'Upon my return, upon my demand, the officer in charge of the unit from which the Ye-tai murderer deserted will also be executed. For dereliction of his duty.'

He looked away. 'I will not demand impalement. Beheading will suffice.'

Sanga's face twisted.

Damodara murmured, 'It has been done, and it will be done. Do not make those- sacrifices-vain exercises in murder, Rana Sanga. Please. Let it be.'

He laid a hand on Sanga's arm.

'Now, I have news myself. I have been appointed head of the northern army for the upcoming Persian campaign. Lord Jivita, of course, will be in overall command.'

The Rajput glanced at him, stonily. Looked away.

'I have requested-and my request has been approved-that most of the Rajput forces be assigned to my army. You-and your cavalry-in particular.'

Now, Sanga's eyes came back. Fixed.

Damodara's lips quirked. 'My official argument was that my army will be operating, more than any other, in broken country. Hence-so I argued-I require the bulk of our best cavalry units.' He shrugged. 'The argument is valid