The Dance of Time

* * *

Toramana did remain on the battlements until the army was no longer in sight. Not because of any demands of honor, however. He was no more of a romantic than Nanda Lal on the subject of horseshit. Or any other, for that matter.

No, he did so for two other reasons.

First, to be certain he had suppressed any trace of humor before he was seen by any of Nanda Lal's spies in the city. Or even good cheer, of which the Ye-tai general was full.

Damodara had said nothing to him, of course. Neither had Narses, beyond the vaguest of hints. It didn't matter. Toramana, from his own analysis of the situation, was almost certain that Damodara had decided the time had come. The reason he was full of good cheer was because, if he was right, that meant both Damodara and Narses had great confidence in him. They were relying on Toramana to do what was necessary, without needing to be told anything.

He'd know, of course, if his assessment was correct. There would be one sure and simple sign to come.

So, he foresaw a great future for himself. Assuming he survived the next few months. But, if he did-yes, a great future.

And an even greater future for his children.

Of course, producing those children also depended on surviving the next few months. But Toramana was a confident man, and on no subject so much as his own prospects for survival.

That led him to his other reason for remaining on the battlements, which was the need to make a final decision on the second most important issue he faced.

He came to that decision quickly. More quickly than he had expected he would. Odd, perhaps. Toramana was not generally given to experimental whimsy. On the other hand, new times called for new measures.

Odder still, though, was the sense of relief that decision brought also.

Why? he wondered. Fearing, for a moment, that he might have been infected with the decadence he saw around him. But he soon decided that there was no infection. Simply. .

And how odd that was! He was actually looking forward to it.

New times, indeed.

* * *

That evening, as he had done every evening since she'd arrived in Bharakuccha, Toramana presented himself at the chambers where his intended had taken up residence in the great palace.

Outside the chambers, of course. Betrothed or not, there would be no question of impropriety. Even after Indira appeared and they began their customary promenade through the gardens, she was followed by a small host of wizened old chaperones and three Rajput warriors. Clansmen of Rana Sanga's, naturally.

For the first few minutes, their talk was idle. The usual meaningless chitchat. Meaningless, at least, in its content. The real purpose of these promenades was simply to allow a groom and his future bride to become at least somewhat acquainted with each other. As stiff as they were, even Rajputs understood that the necessary function of a wedding night was simplified and made easier if the spouses didn't have to grope at each other's voices as well as bodies.

After a time, Toramana cleared his throat. 'Can you read?'

Indira's eyes widened. Toramana had expected that. He was pleased to see, however, that they didn't widen very much, and the face beneath remained quite composed. To anyone watching, she might have been mildly surprised by a comment he made concerning an unusual insect.

His hopes for this wife, already high, rose a bit further. She would be a splendid asset.

'No,' she replied. 'It is not the custom.'

Toramana nodded. 'I can read, myself. But not well. That must change. And I will want you to become literate also. I will hire tutors for us.'

She gazed at a nearby vine. The slight widening of the girl's eyes was gone, now. 'There will be some talk. My brother's wife can read, however, even if somewhat poorly. So probably not all that much talk.'

'Talk does not concern me,' Toramana said stiffly. 'The future concerns me. I do not think great families with illiterate women will do so well, in that future.'

The smile that spread across her face was a slow, cool thing. The very proper smile of a young Rajput princess hearing her betrothed make a pleasant comment regarding a pretty vine.

'I agree,' she said. 'Though most others would not.'

'I am not concerned about 'most others.' Most others will obey or they will break.'

The smile spread just a bit further. 'A few others will not break so easily.'

'Easily, no. Still, they will break.'

The smile now faded quickly, soon replaced by the solemn countenance with which she'd begun the promenade. As was proper. A princess should smile at the remarks of her betrothed, to be sure, but not too widely and not for too long. They were not married yet, after all.

'I am looking forward to our wedding,' Indira said softly. Too softly for the wizened little horde behind them to overhear. 'To the marriage, even more.'

'I am pleased to hear it.'

'It is not the custom,' she repeated.

'Customs change. Or they break.'

* * *

Before nightfall, the promenade was over and Toramana returned to his own quarters.

No sooner had the Ye-tai general entered his private sleeping chamber than the one sure and simple sign he'd expected made its appearance.

Like a ghost, emerging from the wall. Toramana had no idea where the assassin had hidden himself.

'I'm afraid I'll need to sleep here,' Ajatasutra said. 'Nanda Lal has spies almost everywhere.'

Toramana's lip curled, just a bit. 'He has no spies here.'

'No, not here.'

'When?'

'Four days. Though nothing will be needed from you immediately. It will take at least two days for Damodara to return.'

Toramana nodded. 'And then?'

The assassin shrugged. 'Whatever is necessary. The future is hard to predict. It looks good, though. I do not foresee any great difficulty.'

Toramana began removing his armor. It was not extensive, simply the half-armor he wore on garrison duty. 'No. There should be no great difficulty.'

There was a thin, mocking smile on Ajatasutra's face, as there often was. On another man's face, that smile would have irritated Toramana, perhaps even angered him. But the Ye-tai general was accustomed to it, by now.

So, he responded with a thin, mocking smile of his own.

'What amuses you?' Ajatasutra asked.

'A difficulty I had not foreseen, which I just now remembered. Nanda Lal once promised me that he would attend my wedding. And I told him I would hold him to it.'

'Ah.' The assassin nodded. 'Yes, that is a difficulty. A matter of honor is involved.'

The armor finally removed and placed on a nearby stand, Toramana scratched his ribs. Even half-armor was sweaty, in garam.

'Not that difficult,' he said.

'Oh, certainly not.'

He and Ajatasutra exchanged the smile, now. They got along very well together. Why not? They were much alike.

* * *

Agathius was on the dock at Charax to greet Antonina and Photius and Ousanas when the Axumite fleet arrived.

So much, Antonina had expected. What she had not expected was the sight of Agathius' young Persian wife and the small mountain of luggage next to her.