The Dance of Time

eyes.

'Forget it,' said Belisarius, half-chuckling. 'We are not going to form a pact with Damodara to attack Persia and carve it up between us.'

'Probably a bad idea,' admitted Justinian. 'Still, you have to admit it's tempting.'

Maurice had ignored the byplay. By now, having read the message perhaps five times, he was scowling fiercely. 'Fine and dandy for you and Damodara-Khusrau's probably in on it, also-to scheme up ways to bleed Persia's aristocracy dry. But I remind you that I will have to be the one to deal with them. And I'm damned if I'm going to go along with any foolhardy plans to launch a massive frontal assault on the Malwa here. Their fortifications aren't much weaker than ours, you know.'

'I doubt that'll be a problem,' Belisarius said, shaking his head. 'If you're guessing right about Khusrau's plans, he'll probably insist that you remain here while he leads a glorious Aryan sweeping maneuver against the right flank of the enemy. He'll want you to keep some pressure on, of course.'

Maurice grunted. 'We're doing that anyway, just being here.'

'Multan's what? About a hundred miles north of here?' asked Justinian. His face still had traces of dreaminess in it. 'And at that point, the distance between the two rivers must be at least fifty miles.'

Belisarius drew up a mental image of a map of the Punjab. 'Yes, that's about right.'

'So our 'enclave'-using the term very loosely, now-would contain something like two thousand square miles.'

'Um. . Probably closer to fifteen hundred,' countered Maurice. 'That's an awfully narrow triangle.'

'Still. Even fifteen hundred square miles is a fair amount of breathing room. The land here is all fertile, too, even as arid as it is, because of the rivers. We could support a million people, easily. Some enclave!'

Belisarius couldn't help but smile. Justinian might insist that he'd given up his wicked old imperial ways of looking at the world, but it never took much to stir the beast up again.

'That's as may be,' he said, a bit brusquely. 'It's certainly a good deal for us, at least in the short run-and, better yet, might go a long way to mollifying Theodora. In the long run. . hard to say. We'd be completely dependent on maintaining trade routes through either Persian or Indian territory, don't forget. We wouldn't even have a common border with the Kushans.'

Justinian started to say something, but Belisarius drove over him. 'Enough of that, however. We still have a war to win.'

He turned to Calopodius. 'Draft another message telling Damodara we agree. And add the following-'

* * *

— bz-bzzz-bz-bz-bzzz-bzzz-bz-bz-bzzz-

'I purely detest that sound,' snarled Narses. 'My ears are too old to be inflicted with it.'

But he made no move to leave. Didn't so much as twitch a muscle.

The message finished, the operator handed it to Damodara. Again, the new Malwa emperor tilted it so both Narses and Rana Sanga could read the contents.

AGREE TO ALL TERMS STOP THINK PERSIANS WILL ALSO STOP BELISARIUS CAN CROSS THE THAR WITH FIVE HUNDRED MEN STOP PROBABLY REACH AJMER IN A FORTNIGHT STOP WELLS ALREADY DUG STOP IF YOU CAN SEND AUTHORIZATION BY THAT TIME CAN PUT RAJPUT FORCE IN THE FIELD TO INTERCEPT SATI STOP KUSHANS WILL DELAY HER AS LONG AS POSSIBLE STOP

By the time they finished the message, all three pairs of eyes were very wide.

'God damn him,' said Narses tonelessly. 'No man should be that smart. Not even me.'

Damodara shook his head, just slightly. 'He planned for this, and months ago. There are no wells in the Thar-so he had them dug in advance.'

'Months?' Sanga's headshake was a more vigorous affair. 'I think not, Emperor. I think he has been planning this for years.'

His gaze grew unfocused, as he pulled on his beard. 'All along, I think. . If you consider everything, from the beginning. He never planned to defeat the Malwa Empire by outright conquest. Never once. Instead, he pried it apart. Worked at all the weaknesses until it erupted. Forged alliances with Axum and Persia-the latter, an ancient Roman enemy-not so much to hammer us but so that he could support and supply a Maratha rebellion. Which he fostered himself. And then. .'

'We did beat him at the Pass,' pointed out Damodara.

Sanga left off the beard-pulling, and grimaced.

Damodara chuckled, quite humorlessly. 'Yes, I know. A tactical victory only. You could even argue it was a strategic defeat. Still, as an army we were never defeated by him. Not even badly battered, really.'

'Well, of course not,' said Narses, in the same toneless voice. 'He planned that, too. All through that campaign-if you recall it again, from this angle-he was careful to keep our casualties to a minimum. His army's, as well, of course. We thought at the time that was simply because he needed it intact to take Charax. But, as usual, there was a second string to the bow. He wanted your army intact also. So that, some day, you could do what you're doing now.'

His old eyes were pure slits, now, glaring at the message. 'That bastard! I should have had him assassinated when I could.'

Sanga's lips twisted. 'And when was that, exactly?'

'I could have done it when he was still six years old,' replied Narses gloomily. 'Of course, he was nobody then, so it never occured to me. Just another scion of minor Thracian nobility, with pig shit on his bare feet.'

'Enough!' snapped Damodara. 'I, for one, am glad he's here.' He held the message up, inclining it toward Sanga. 'What's the answer? Can we get someone to Ajmer in time to meet him? Someone the Rajputs there will listen to-but it can't be you, Sanga. We've got our own forced march to make, with a great siege at the end.'

The Rajput king went back to beard-pulling. 'A fortnight. . That's the problem. I'll send Jaimal and Udai, with fifty men. Neither of them are kings, but they're both well-known and much respected. Also known to be among my closest lieutenants. The Rajputs will listen to them.'

A smile came, distorted by a sharp yank on the beard. 'Ha! After these years, Belisarius is something of a legend among the Rajputs also-and we are a people who adore our legends. The truth, Emperor? If Jaimal and Udai are there to vouch for him, most Rajput warriors will flock to his banner. Especially the young ones.'

'No problem with the oath?'

'No, not really. The old men will quibble and complain and quarrel, of course. But who cares? It won't be old men that Belisarius leads toward the headwaters of the Ganges, to meet a monster on the field of battle. Young men, they'll be. With no love for Skandagupta, an interpretation of the oath that's good enough-since it was good enough for me-and a commander out of legend.'

He lowered his hand. 'Yes, it'll work. If Jaimal and Udai can reach Ajmer in time.'

He looked around. 'I need to summon them. Also need a map. One moment.'

He went to the door, opened it, and barked the orders.

Damodara leaned over the radio operator's shoulder. 'How much longer can we transmit?'

'Hard to say, Your Majesty. The best time, at this distance, is around sunrise and sunset. But, especially once the sun is down, the window-that's what we call it-can stay open for hours. All night, sometimes.'

'We'll just have to hope for the best. If necessary, we can send the final message in the morning. For now, send the following. Exactly as I give it you, understand? Great Lady Sati will be receiving it also, and she mustn't be able to understand what it means.'

* * *

The operator's nod was nervous, but not the terrified gesture it had been hours earlier. As time had passed, the man had come to conclude that while the new self-proclaimed emperor was a scary man-the tall Rajput and the evil-looking old eunuch, even worse-he was not as scary as Nanda Lal had been.

Not even close. The truth was that the radio operator had no more love for the old dynasty than anybody. Certainly not for their stinking priests and torturers.