Aurangzeb hid a smile by bowing his head. It boded well that even his trusted men could not foretell his actions. Of course, they did not have access to the sources of information that he and Nur had cultivated.
His good mood soured as he watched water drip from the edges of the awning set up before the Red Tent. His trusted umara attended him in an informal council of war while the first steady rain of the season offered liquid proof of how little time remained for the young emperor to bring Dara to battle and defeat him. The rains would not stop his army but they would slow it, and, more critically, greatly reduce the speed and efficiency of the banjari network transporting the necessary supplies from Bombay port. So much so that most of the fodder would rot or be eaten before arriving at the men and horses it was intended to serve. The relief he’d felt upon receiving the message last night had put him on his knees, driving him to offer fervent prayers of thanksgiving unto the Almighty for many hours. The grain stores of Gwalior, when emptied, would serve to keep his army fed and mobile for a month or more, despite the weather.
Aurangzeb decided he’d left the question unanswered for long enough. “To be sure, were I to offer them insult or the sword, they would deny us the fortress for months, if not years.”
“You bought another commander, Sultan Al’Azam?” Shahaji asked, grinning.
Aurangzeb leveled a sober stare at the man. “No, I did not.”
Shahaji’s smile faded only slightly, and Aurangzeb found himself forcing down a matching grin that threatened from the corners of his own mouth. Such would be an unseemly public display.
He sniffed. “In fact, I had been much distressed with concerns over how we might take Gwalior without spending blood and treasure I can ill afford,” he admitted.
“Blood we would gladly spill for you, Sultan Al’Azam, for your cause has God’s favor,” Sidi Miftah said.
“Indeed. God, in His wisdom, did correct me in my doubts. He provided, as always. Ahmad Khan sent a messenger with an offer to capitulate. I accepted.”
Piratical grins greeted that news. From everyone but the Habshi, who tugged at his densely curled beard.
“What is it, Sidi Miftah Khan?” Aurangzeb asked.
“Forgive me, Sultan Al’Azam, but how can you trust this commander? Forgive me, but I do not even recognize the name you give us. Lacking that name recognition, I know this man cannot possess an honorable reputation to match Lahore Rathore, and therefore is not likely to be worthy of remaining in our rear without the necessary assurances.” He raised a brow in question. “Hostages and the like?”
“I will not take hostages from men whose only crime was to be loyal servants of the imperial court.”
Everyone seemed dismayed at this revelation, so Aurangzeb took great pleasure in revealing his next bit of news: “But he—and his entire garrison—will not remain here. They will ride north with us. I will install my own garrison there on the morrow,” he added, pointing at the citadel.
When Sidi Miftah looked unrelieved, Aurangzeb gestured for him to speak his concerns.
“Sultan Al’Azam, please forgive me any impertinence in questioning you, but why this sudden collapse of Dara’s support? I am thankful to Almighty God, of course, but it almost seems too good to be true.”
“As it did to me, before I had confirmation from other sources.”
“Confirmation of what, Sultan Al’Azam?” Sidi insisted.
“Thanks be to God,” Aurangzeb said, “Dara has removed his most powerful supporter from the court, exiling him.”
“Exiled?” Sidi Miftah asked, eyes wide in his handsome face.
“Indeed. My brother is so lost to morality he has allowed my sister, Jahanara, to have relations with the upstart Salim Gadh Yilmaz. And then, to add to his shame, only exiled the pig instead of killing the wretch as he…” Aurangzeb let the words trail away, pretending a pain he scarcely felt. The news was too good for his cause to truly feel regret. That his eldest sibling had been so lost to honor that she had tarnished the family image in such a way was…useful.
The gathered men’s shocked mutters stopped when Sidi Miftah went to his knees before his ruler.
“Sultan Al’Azam,” he said, “may I be the first to offer my blade to avenge your family honor? Let me seek this man out and kill him like the pig he is!”
Aurangzeb froze, surprised at the passion in his follower’s words. He found his voice after a moment’s consideration, and said, “If he should be so foolish as to come to us thinking to take service despite his transgressions, I will avail myself of your kind offer. As it is, I doubt very strongly we will be seeing him again. By all reports, he flees to Gujarat, and thence to Mecca.”
“You are certain? I would follow him to the ends of the earth to expunge this stain.”
“I am certain, Sidi Miftah,” Aurangzeb replied, though he did not feel half as certain as he tried to project.
“As you command, Sultan Al’Azam,” the Habshi said, reluctantly climbing to his feet.
Aurangzeb called for a drink, using the moment to assess the men’s response to his report. The other captains seemed content with both their companion’s offer and their commander’s response, but if the Habshi’s response would be paralleled—or even exceeded—among the common sowar serving him, was he missing a potential liability…or possibly an opportunity to either strengthen their ties to him?
“Sultan Al’Azam, may I ask a question?”
“Of course, Carvalho Khan,” Aurangzeb said.
“You have not told us what reason, specifically, the commander gave for his defection. I understand a certain level of fear, but the Afghan was only one man, not a proven general such as yourself, from a family of no great consequence.”
“You are correct, he was not a proven leader, but he was the man trusted to employ the technology of the up-timers to best effect. Then the common sowar see the explosion destroy the manufactory set up for
