"You will be unable to travel," said the Rajput, unwilling to be put off.
"I doubt it," Sanat Ji Mani told him. "Now, about camp."
"It will have to be soon; the light is fading." He glanced up at the sky, already showing a scattering of stars against the evanescing sunset. "The scouts say there are wide meadows ahead. It will not be long."
"You will have to issue torches to your men if you wait much longer," said Sanat Ji Mani. "It is dangerous to cross unknown ground in the dark." He did not add that he saw almost as well by night as he did by day.
"I agree," said Hasin Dahele. "I was hoping we could move right to the foot of the pass, but I see it will not be possible." He signaled to the officer accompanying Sanat Ji Mani to close his umbrella. "I do not think you will need that until dawn."
"No. It is dark enough," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I will help to organize the camps, if you need such help."
"I would rather you tend to your foot. I do not want to run the risk of losing you to putrid blood. Care for the injury and rest yourself tonight, for tomorrow will make demands of us all." He motioned Sanat Ji Mani away, and went toward the white ass upon which Vayu Ede rode.
Watching him go, Sanat Ji Mani wondered why he had been summoned to the front of the line only to be dismissed. He rode to the side of the army, watching the companies ride by, some of the men lurching in their saddles, attacked by hunger and fatigue. He took advantage of this moment to assess the readiness of the soldiers and realized that most of them, although tired, were fit enough. He would have to try his ploy the next day. There would be no more opportunities to get away. As the columns began to turn and fan out to make camp, Sanat Ji Mani waited for the wagons to catch up, so that he might select the others to be disabled by the climb through the pass. At last he picked out the smallest of the water-wagons, a carriage filled
with trunks and boxes containing clothing and armor, and a donkey-pulled cart bearing cooking pots and utensils for one of the cooks, who trudged along beside it rather than try to steer the donkey with reins. Those three, and Tulsi's wagon, would have wheel trouble on the next day. Satisfied that he knew what to do, he rode toward Tulsi's wagon and its pair of weary mules.
"I thought you would not come until later," she said as she saw him ride up; in the dwindling light, he seemed to be a bit of night arriving ahead of the dark.
"I have an injury; the Rajput has ordered me to tend to it." He rode to the back of the wagon, secured the dun's reins to the back support, then scrambled into the rear. Making his way to the front of the wagon, he called out to her, "We go over the pass tomorrow, as I expected. The Rajput is determined on it."
"And we will have an accident?" she called back, keeping her voice as low as she could.
"Yes. I will take care of that later, after midnight," he said as he emerged at her side. "Watch closely. We will be guided to a place to set up for the night."
"That I will," she said, and made a point of sitting up straighter to show how alert she was.
He lifted his right foot and looked down at the bloody leather of his boot. "Ah. I can see what bothered the Rajput," he said as he pulled off the boot with care and inspected the old injury; the wound through his foot had opened, not all the way, but enough to delay his healing by several months. He cursed in his native tongue, then noticed that Tulsi was staring at him in horror. "It looks dreadful, I know. But it is not dangerous, only inconvenient."
"It seems hideous," she said. "I thought you were improving. You said you were." There was an accusation in this last.
"I was. I am. It is much better than when I got the staple out," he reminded her.
"It made me sick to watch," she said quietly. "I do not like to think about it."
"Nor do I," he said. "I will have to wrap it tightly for a week or so, to keep it from opening any more."
"Do you think that will be sufficient?" She had to fight down the anxiety that was regaining a hold on her. "Can we manage our escape tomorrow?" The wagon lurched as she swung the mules off the main track to follow the other wagons to the place they would be assigned for the night.
"My foot should not stop that," he said. "The sun will be harder to manage than this injury." He was holding onto the seat as if the bumpy ride did not bother him. "In fact, we may be able to use the foot as a reason not to fix the wagon too quickly."
"You are a very wily man," she said, keeping her tone light. "No wonder the Rajput wants your advice."
"He wants it, but does not often take it. If he truly believes that I am Timur-i, he is behaving oddly." He noticed one of the officers directing them to turn aside and halt. "I think we have reached the halt."
"The mules will be pleased," she said, and pulled their reins to get them into position, then wrapped the reins around the splash-board and climbed down, reaching for their halters as she did. "Can you help me with the grooming?" she called up to Sanat Ji Mani.
"Of course," he said rather brusquely. "I will bring the brushes," he told her, reaching under the driving-box for the grooming supplies; with these in hand, he struggled to the ground, walking awkwardly, favoring his bleeding foot as he went to help unharness the mules.
By the time they were done and the mules were eating the handfuls of grain given to them before they were put on a grazing line for the night, the first wonderful odors of cooking were filling the air, reminding Tulsi that she was famished. She stowed her grooming supplies back under the driving-box, got out their cups and bowls from inside the wagon, and turned to Sanat Ji Mani, who was sitting on the ground, trying to tend to his foot. "I am going to get some food. Shall I bring some for you?" It would be expected of her and she had done it every night since the army had set off.
"Yes, if you would," he said, knowing she would eat it. "Not too much."
"As you wish," she said, but hesitated. "Do you have cloth to wrap that?"
"I do. Go along and get our meals," he said, glancing up at her with a generous smile. "I will have this taken care of by the time you return."
"Very well," she said, and set off toward the nearest of the newly blazing fires, prepared to wait in line for the shares of food being cooked. She wanted to stretch out her tired muscles, to do some of her tumbling tricks just to limber up, but did not: in the morning there would be a little time to exercise before beginning their day with the army— their last day with the army, she reminded herself, and did her best to feel encouraged. By the time she got back to the wagon, Sanat Ji Mani had his boot on once again and was practicing walking, trying to minimize his limp. "How does it feel?"
"A bit raw," he admitted. "But not impossibly so."
"Do you think you can make everything ready for tomorrow?" she asked as she sank down next to the wagon and began to eat the broiled lamb with the chickpea bread that had been the evening fare offered, along with hot, dark tea. "It may be difficult to accomplish."
"I must do it," he said. "When are we going to have another opportunity like the one we will have tomorrow?"
"I do not want to guess," said Tulsi, taking a long sip of the cardamom-spiced tea. "You may not have another opportunity before there is a battle, and then, anything might happen."
"So it might," Sanat Ji Mani said.
"Given what the Rajput thinks of you, he may well order you to the front of the army, to be beside him." There was bitterness in her voice, and an attitude of distress. "What can we do, if that is what the Rajput wants?"
"And probably will insist upon; Hasin Dahele will have his way," said Sanat Ji Mani, continuing to pace the small area between Tulsi's wagon and the next vehicle.
"Are you certain we will escape?" Tulsi's question came without apology.
"I hope we will," Sanat Ji Mani admitted.
"Hope," she echoed. "So you must tell me, what will we do if our plan does not work? Do you have another in mind?" Tulsi blinked her nervousness. "Is this our only chance?"
"There can be others, but they may require more planning, and more luck," he said.
"Then you have been thinking about alternatives?" She took a large bite of lamb and chewed with determination.
Sanat Ji Mani considered her question. "If it comes to that, we can always die," he said, so blandly that she stared. "You know, make it appear we are dead. It can be done. It is risky, but so is getting away on the mules."
She nodded. "I suppose you are right," she said, and was about to say more when the sound of approaching hoofbeats caught her attention; she saw that Sanat Ji Mani was standing still, his attention directed toward five approaching horsemen.
"Sanat Ji Mani," the Rajput called out. "I have been mulling over your injury, and I have decided to provide you an escort, in case you should need any additional help. These are Challa Bahlin, Sambarin Kheb, Garanai Kheb, and Kantu Asar. They will bear you company for as long as you may need them." He indicated the men behind him as he spoke their names. "I cannot rid myself of the notion that your foot will fester, and you will need to have men to do your bidding."
Sanat Ji Mani looked up at the Rajput. "Such attention is too much, Rajput. I have no need of the protection you offer."
"It is like you to say such things, to carry on in the face of injury," said Hasin Dahele. "But I cannot be as unconcerned as you, for I rely upon you for instruction. I will not neglect you; that would compromise my mission."
"You have your troops to think of first," said Sanat Ji Mani. "You will need to provide for them before you care for me, or any other advisors you may have." He kept his stance upright and his demeanor respectful, but watching him, Tulsi could see he was vexed.
Hasin Dahele laughed. "Two will be with you by night, and two by day," he said as if he had not heard what Sanat Ji Mani had told him.
"It is unnecessary," Sanat Ji Mani said with more force.
"It is my Will," said Hasin Dahele in a tone that ended the matter; he turned his horse abruptly, and rode away, two of the men following him, two remaining.
Sanat Ji Mani considered the men. "Will you remain far enough from us that my woman and I may be alone?"
For an answer, the two men repositioned themselves a short distance from the wagon, one by the grazing-line of the mules, the other beyond the rear of the wagon; they dismounted and took up their posts without saying a word.
Tulsi began to eat again, and managed to mutter to him, "I understood most of that: it seems we will have to die."
"Yes," Sanat Ji Mani agreed. "So it does."
* * *
Text of a letter from Rogerian in Alexandria to Atta Olivia Clemens in Rome; written in Imperial Latin.
* * *
To the oldest friend of my master, the greetings of Rogerian, with what little news as I have to impart.
Again, there is nothing to report from the lands of Hind, but that another small war may be underway in the western mountains of the central region, or so Rustam Iniattir's nephew Zal Iniattir has sent him word from the fortress-town of Asirgarh. If Sanct' Germain has been in that region, he may well be occupied with avoiding the conflict that seems about to erupt among the various people who live in those uplands. This is all conjecture, I grant you, and it is not unlikely that when he finally arrives here, or in Rome, it will turn out that he has been in China or Russia or some other place, making his way westward or eastward as the circumstances demand. But so long as Rustam Iniattir has heard this, I think it behooves me to pass it on to you, if for no other reason than to provide some notion of the difficulties that have arisen in that part of the world, and the consequent dangers such events can represent.
The business here continues to do well. I have entered into a formal trading agreement with Rustam Iniattir which I am convinced will be advantageous to my master when he finally returns. Rustam Iniattir is a prudent merchant with a clever eye to the market-places he can seek. I share his belief that there are goods from Europe that would be valuable in the East, and goods from the East that will be treasures in Europe. Whatever the case, if nothing else, this adds to the access Sanct' Germain has to the spice trade. His profits from pepper alone could be vast beyond reckoning, so long as the House of Iniattir maintains its position among merchants. I have agreed to carry his goods
in Sanct' Germain's ships from Alexandria throughout the Mediterranean and Atlantic ports of call, and to allow him to purchase partnerships in three vessels, over time, so that his incentive to continue the association remains high.
Your admonition in regard to Avasa Dani was well-considered. She has her own establishment, at the edge of the Foreigners' Quarter, where she stands to be most successful with the least difficulties. I have paid handsome bribes to ensure her business will be undisrupted, and that she will not have to rely on the whims of patrons to gain the protection she requires in her chosen endeavor. She has employed fourteen women and plans eventually to have twenty in her household. She has set aside dowries for all the women and promised to find them suitable husbands when their days of employment in her house are at an end; for those who do not wish to be married, she has said she will provide all the trappings of widowhood and help the women to have their own households in another place, where no whiff of their former occupation can work against them. She is satisfied with her situation, and is content to remain as she is for the time being.
