The tide of victory

First things first. Reassure my employer.

'Of course,' he said harshly, 'I will report to Great Lady Sati that you have never given me permission to do anything other than my officially specified duties. Which is the plain and simple truth, as it happens.'

Lord Damodara's tension seemed to ease a bit. 'Of course,' he murmured. He studied his spymaster carefully.

'You have met Great Lady Sati, I believe?'

Narses shook his head. 'Not exactly. She was present, yes, when I had my one interview with Great Lady Holi. After my defection from Rome, and before Great Lady Holi departed for Mesopotamia. Where she met her death at Belisarius' hands.'

He left unspoken the remainder: and was-replaced? — by Great Lady Sati.

'But Lady Sati-she was not Great Lady, then-said nothing in the interview.'

Damodara nodded and began pacing slowly back and forth. His hands were pressed together as if in prayer, which was the lord's habit when he was engaged in deep thought.

Abruptly, he stopped his pacing and turned to face Narses squarely.

'How much do you know, Roman?'

Narses understood the meaning. 'Malwa is ruled by a hidden-something. A being, let us call it. I do not know its true name. Once, it inhabited the body of Great Lady Holi. Today, it resides in Great Lady Sati. Whatever it is, the being has supernatural powers. It is not of this earth. I believe, judging from what I have learned, that it claims to come from the future.'

After a moment's hesitation, he added: 'A divine being, Malwa believes it to be.'

Damodara smiled thinly. 'And you?'

Narses spread his hands. 'What is divinity, Lord? For Hindus, the word deva refers to a divine creature. For Zoroastrians, it is the word assigned to demons. What, in the end, is really the difference- to the men who stand under its power?'

'What, indeed?' mused Damodara. He resumed his pacing. Again, his hands were pressed together. 'Whatever the being may be, Narses-divine or not, from the future or not-have no doubt of one thing. It is truly superhuman.'

He stopped and, again, turned to face the eunuch. 'One thing in particular you must understand. A human being cannot lie to Li-the being-and keep the lie from being detected.'

Narses' eyes did not widen in the least. The spymaster had already deduced as much, from his own investigations.

'It cannot be done,' the Malwa lord reiterated forcefully. 'Do not even imagine the possibility.'

Narses reached up and stroked his jaw. 'The truth only, you say?' Then, seeing Damodara's nod, he asked: 'But tell me this, Lord. Can this being truly read a man's thoughts?'

Damodara hesitated. For a moment, he seemed about to resume his pacing, but instead he simply slumped a bit.

'I am not certain, Narses.'

'Your estimate, then.' The words were spoken in the tone of command. But the lord gave no sign of umbrage at this unwarranted change of relationship. At the moment, his own life hung by as slender a thread as the eunuch's.

Whatever his doubts and uncertainties, Damodara was an experienced as well as a brilliant military commander. Decisiveness came naturally to him, and that nature had been honed by his life.

'No,' he said firmly. 'In the end, I do not believe so. I think it is simply that the being is-is-' He groped for the words.

Narses' little exhalation of breath seemed filled with satisfaction. 'A superhuman spymaster. Which can study the same things any spymaster learns to examine-posture, tone of voice, the look in the eyes-to gauge whether a man speaks true or false.'

Damodara's head nod was more in the way of a jerk. 'Yes. So I believe.'

For the first time since he read the message summoning him to the Grand Palace, Narses smiled. It was a very, very thin smile. But a smile nonetheless.

'The truth only, then. That should be no problem.'

Damodara studied him for a moment. But he could read nothing whatever in the old eunuch's face. Nothing in his eyes, his tone of voice, his posture. Nothing but-a lifetime of intrigue and subterfuge.

'Go, then,' he commanded.

Narses bowed, but did not make to leave.

Damodara cocked his head. 'There is something you wish, before you go?'

'Yes,' murmured Narses. 'The fastest courier in the army. I need to send new instructions to Ajatasutra.'

'Certainly. I shall have him report to your tent immediately.' He cleared his throat. 'Where is Ajatasutra, by the way? I haven't noticed him about lately.'

Narses stared at him coldly. Damodara broke into sudden, subdued laughter.

'Never mind! Sometimes, it's best not to know the truth.'

Narses met the laughter with a chuckle. 'So, I am told, say the very best philosophers.'

* * *

Ajatasutra himself might not have agreed with that sentiment. But there was no question at all that he was being philosophical about his own situation.

He had not much choice, after all. His needs required that he stay at one of the worst and poorest hostels in Ajmer, the greatest city of Rajputana. And, so far as Ajatasutra was concerned-he who had lived in Constantinople as well as Kausambi-the best hostel in that hot and dusty city was barely fit for cattle.

He slew another insect on his pallet, with the same sure stroke with which he slew anything.

'I am not a Jain,' he growled at the tiny corpse. His cold eyes surveyed the horde of other insects taking formation in his squalid little room. 'So don't any of you think you'll get any tenderhearted philosophy from me.'

If the insects were abashed by that grisly threat, they gave no sign of it. Another legion, having dressed its lines, advanced fearlessly to the fray.

* * *

'This won't be so bad,' said the older sister. 'The lady even says she'll give me a crib for the baby.'

The younger sister surveyed their room in the great mansion where Lord Damodara's family resided in the capital. The room was small and unadorned, but it was spotlessly clean.

True, the kitchen-master was a foul-mouthed and ill-tempered man, as men who hold such thankless posts generally are. And his wife was even worse. But her own foul mouth and ill temper seemed focused, for the most part, on seeing to it that her husband did not take advantage of his position to molest the kitchen slaves.

In her humble manner, the sister had become quite a philosopher in her own right. 'Are you kidding? This is great.'

* * *

Below them, in the depths of the mansion's great cellar, others were also being philosophical.

'Start digging,' commanded the mercenary leader. 'You've got a long way to go.'

The small group of Bihari miners did not even think to argue the matter. Indeed, they set to work with a will. An odd attitude, perhaps, in slaves. But they too had seen the way Ajatasutra gave instructions. And, like the two sisters whom they did not know, had reached an identical conclusion. The assassin was deadly, deadly. But, in his own way, a man who could be trusted. Do the work, he had told them, and you will be manumitted-and given gold besides.

There was no logic to it, of course. For whatever purpose they had been brought here, to dig a mysterious tunnel to an unknown destination, the purpose had been kept secret for a reason. The slaves knew, as well as any man, that the best way to keep a secret is to kill those who know it. But, somehow, they did not fear for their lives.

'Oddest damned assassin I've ever seen,' muttered one of the mercenaries.