“Just not looking forward to crossing that…” He broke off as Jadu rode up.
The up-timers greeted their merchant-guide with smiles, with Ricky taking his reins as the older man dismounted and spent a moment stretching. Jadu had been in the saddle all day, scouting ahead into Patna.
Bobby handed the older man a skin, which he upended and drank from. “My friends, we have much to discuss—” He drank again. “Some of Asaf Khan’s men have been seen around the city.”
Bobby and Ricky shared a look. “Some?”
“Several hundred. An advance guard, I think.”
“Why’s that?”
“I am told they arrived on boats, and have since been seen to negotiate with every horse dealer in the city.”
“Not the imperial officer?”
“No.”
“That’s unusual, no?”
“Indeed it is, Bobby. At least, it’s an unusual measure for a loyal general to take.”
“Would the imperial officers be able to supply the numbers he needs?”
Jadu looked thoughtful. “Probably not. But Asaf Khan’s arrangements have him paying for mounts out of his own purse. If he were to go through the imperial officers for even a portion of the expense, it would save him considerable coin.”
“But he’s not relying on them at all?”
“No.” Jadu gave his beard a thoughtful tug. “It does not make much sense. He could use the imperial offices to ease the burden on his coffers and then renege on payment if he decides or has already decided to support one of Dara’s brothers.”
“Unless he doesn’t want Dara informed that he’s returning?”
Jadu nodded. “That’s the only way it makes sense, but even then only if he was sure they would remain silent about the fact he was returning at all. And that’s far more difficult.
“The local zamindars could be expected to cooperate with him, given even a flimsy excuse. Dara confirmed him as governor of Bengal as one of his first acts as emperor, so they should be predisposed to follow his orders.” He shook his head uneasily. “But if I, on the basis of one day’s easy inquiry, can discover what his men were about, then more than enough people know he’s returning to make it no secret at all.”
Ricky pulled his lip. “I think I follow: he isn’t keeping it secret by doing what he’s doing, so why not just take the horses as well and damn the consequences?”
“You have it right,” Jadu said. “Perhaps I am too tired, but I cannot think why he would do things this way…” Frustrated, he took the reins back from Ricky and started for his tent and attendants. “I need to eat.”
“Was there any opium on the market?” Ricky asked as they set out after the merchant.
“There was. I purchased what could be had at a reasonable price”—he gestured at his saddlebags—“but we’re leaving the better poppy-producing lands behind if we go much farther east…at least until the foothills on the other side of the Punjab.”
“Do you think we will need to?”
“What, go farther east?”
“Yes.”
A shake of his turbaned head. “I do not think so. We have acquired several times what your Doctor Nichols reported would be required.”
“If you got another fist-sized ball,” Ricky said, glancing at Jadu, who nodded confirmation, “then we’ve got enough.”
“We don’t know for sure what the purity is, though,” Bobby said, thoughtful.
Ricky caught the smell of something cooking, stomach rumbling in response. Jadu’s cook was good, and it smelled like he’d been standing by for the moment his master reappeared on the horizon.
“It will have to be refined once we get it back home. That’s why Doc Nichols told us to buy as much as we could in the first place. He figured we’d get some stuff that was bunk, anyway.”
“Home.” Bobby looked wistful, and a little sad.
“Listen to us, talking about purity and shit,” Ricky said, trying to divert Bobby from the bout of homesickness he saw creeping in. Everyone on the Mission suffered bouts of it every so often, but Bobby’d had enough trouble to make Ricky want to spare him.
Bobby grinned, took up the thread: “Couple of backcountry hillbillies becoming international drug dealers.”
“Just need some outfits that scream Scarface and we’re golden.”
Bobby snorted, shook his head. “Speak for yourself. I am going for the business executive look. You know, someone who doesn’t get his hands dirty with such things.”
“So you’ll be wearing one of those outrageous starched silk collars we saw the English wearing at court?”
“Hell, no!”
“Well, what’s the current fashion among European men of affairs, if not starched lace collars?”
“Shit. Guess I’ll just have to have a silk tracksuit made up, get some of the gold we’ve earned made into thick necklaces, and touch my balls a lot during a conversation.”
“You watch too many mob movies, Bobby.” Ricky ducked under the tent awning, Bobby on his heels.
“Watched.”
“Didn’t need that particular reminder, thanks.”
“Fogettabouttit,” Bobby said by way of apology, sniffing and touching his crotch before throwing himself to the cushions.
Ricky joined him a little more slowly, still thinking over Asaf Khan’s strange actions.
Jadu emerged from the sleeping area of the tent wearing a fresh over-robe. As if on cue, his body servant and cook entered the tent from the cook fires outside, one carrying a covered platter and the other covered bowls. They laid out the meal and departed.
Jadu waved his guests to start, taking up a large piece of naan from the platter and spooning some steaming rice and delicious-smelling curry onto it.
“Course, the way some of these nobles operate, might as well be capos straight out of The Godfather,” Bobby said around a mouthful of food.
Ricky nodded agreement. “I think I remember Ms. Mailey saying something about their organization being straight medieval when she talked about how John Gotti got away with his crimes for so long.”
“Who is that?” Jadu asked.
“The boss of one of the Sicilian organized crime families…”
“Organized crime?” Jadu asked, spooning more rice onto his shrinking stretch of naan.
“Yes.”
“As opposed to unorganized?” Jadu asked, waggling his head.
“Exactly…”
“And?” Jadu asked.
“Probably need to unpack that some, Ricky,” Bobby
