The Dance of Time b-6

by Eric Flint

  No more than Valentinian, did she think that we may never have to deal with that was an accurate prediction of the future.

  * * *

  Neither did Rajiv.

  "It can be done," he told Valentinian four days later, after he and Tarun had finished their first round of scouting. "By you, at least. But not easily."

  "I didn't think it would be easy." Valentinian and Anastasius exchanged a glance. Then, turned to stare at Khandik and the other two Ye-tai mercenaries.

  Khandik grinned, rather humorlessly. "Why not? Five against a hundred."

  "More like eighty," qualified Rajiv.

  "Eighty-three," specified Tarun.

  Everyone stared at him. "I can count!" protested the Bengali boy. "You have to be able to count, running a stable."

  Anastasius grunted. "Still, it's odds of sixteen or seventeen to one. All garrison troops, of course." He spit on the floor of the stable, as if to emphasize his low opinion of garrison soldiers.

  "It's not that bad," said Valentinian. "At least half of them will be off duty."

  "On that day?" demanded Khandik. "With tens of thousands of Rajputs howling at the gates? I don't think so."

  Valentinian grimaced. "Well. . true." He tugged at his beard. "But the way Rajiv and Tarun report the layout of the gate, we'd only have to deal with some of them."

  "If we move fast enough," agreed Rajiv.

  Now, it was everyone's turn to stare at Rajiv.

  "What's this 'we' business?" demanded Anastasius.

  Rajiv squared his shoulders. "It'll go easier if I'm already inside."

  "Me too!" said Tarun proudly. "Rajiv and me already figured it out."

  Valentinian slanted his head skeptically. "And just why would you be invited in? Other than to be a catamite, which I don't recommend as a way to augment your princely status."

  Rajiv made a face. So did Tarun, who stuck out his tongue in the bargain. "Uck!"

  "It's not that," said Rajiv. For a moment, he had an uncertain expression on his face. An uncomfortable one, actually. "The soldiers are pretty friendly, to tell you the truth. Even their leaders, except for the captain. He's a kshatriya, but the rest are just peasants, including the four sergeants. Most of them Bengalis, just like Tarun. They've got their wives and kids in the barracks with them, too, remember. Lots of kids, and all ages-and the barracks are almost part of the gate itself. After a while, if Tarun and I spend enough time there, nobody will notice us coming or going."

  "On that day?" asked Khandik skeptically.

  Rajiv shrugged. "I think especially on that day. Who's going to pay any attention to me-when my father is on the other side of the gate, making threats and issuing promises?"

  That brought a round of soft laughter to the small group of soldiers clustered in a corner of the stable.

  "Well," said Khandik. "That's true."

  * * *

  Hearing the laughter, Lady Sanga scowled. She and Lady Damodara were perched on cushions in another part of the stable.

  "See?" she demanded.

  Her companion made a wry face. "I'm glad my son is only seven."

  Lady Sanga sniffed. "Guard him carefully. Or the next thing you know, Valentinian will have him practicing with sticks."

  Lady Damodara looked startled. Just the other day, she'd noticed. .

  "He wouldn't!"

  "He would."

  * * *

  But even the two ladies were in a better mood, nine days later.

  Ajatasutra showed up. At last!

  "Wasn't hard," he said cheerfully. "They're still not screening anyone at the city's gates very thoroughly. Skandagupta's an idiot, trying to suppress the news of the rebellion the way he is. The rumors are flying all over already-ten times more so, once the emperor reaches the Yamuna, which he should be doing pretty soon. But since nothing is officially confirmed by Skandagupta and his officials, and no clear orders are being given, the soldiers are still going about their business as usual. They're mostly peasants, after all. None of their business, the doings of the high and mighty."

  "You look tired," said Dhruva. Hearing the concern in her voice, Valentinian frowned. Seeing the frown, Anastasius had to fight down a grin.

  Valentinian, jealous. Would wonders never cease?

  Smiling-tiredly-Ajatasutra shrugged. "Well, yes. I've come something like seven hundred miles in less than two weeks, since I left the emperor. Even as much time as I've spent in the saddle in my life, my legs feel like they're about to fall off. Best we not discuss at all the state of my buttocks."

  Once the emperor reaches the Yamuna. Since I left the emperor.

  Lady Damodara almost shivered, at the casual and matter-of-fact manner of those statements. When she'd last seen her husband, he'd been simply the man she'd known and come to love since their wedding. They'd been but teenagers, at the time. He, sixteen; and she, a year younger.

  Now, today. .

  "Oh, forgot." Ajatasutra started digging in his tunic. "Rana Sanga-the emperor also, once he saw-asked me to bring you gifts. Nothing fancy, of course, traveling as lightly as I was."

  His hand emerged, holding two small onions. One, he gave to Lady Sanga; the other, to Lady Damodara.

  Rana Sanga's wife burst into tears. Lady Damodara just smiled.

  She even managed to keep the smile on her face a minute later. Ajatasutra had addressed her as "Your Majesty" from the moment he arrived, and had done so throughout the long report he'd given them. But she hadn't really thought much of it. That just seemed part of the project of disguise and deception she'd been involved with for over a year, now. Hearing him-so casually, so matter-of-factly! — refer to her as the Empress to Lady Sanga, was a different thing altogether.

  * * *

  After Ajatasutra left her part of the stable, to confer with the soldiers in their own corner, Lady Damodara gave vent to her confusion and uncertainty.

  "I don't feel any different."

  Her companion smiled. Rana Sanga's wife had become Lady Damodara's close friend, over the past months. The closest friend she'd ever had, in fact.

  "Oh, but you are. Your semi-divine aura is quite noticeable now."

  "Even when I shit?" Lady Damodara pointed to a chamber pot not more than five feet away. "Damn this stable, anyway."

  Sanga's wife grimaced. "Well. Maybe you need to work on that part. On the other hand, why bother? Before too long, you'll either be dead or be crapping in the biggest palace in the world. With fifty chambermaids to carry out the results, and twenty spies and three executioners to make sure they keep their mouths shut about the contents."

  Lady Damodara laughed.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, hearing the soft laughter coming from the knot of soldiers in the corner of the stable, she frowned.

  "My son's not over there, is he?" But, looking around, she spotted him playing with two of the other small boys in a different part of the stable. So, her frown faded.

  Lady Sanga's frown, on the other hand, had deepened into a full scowl.

  "No. But my son is."

  * * *

  "Only fifteen-to-one odds," said Khandik with satisfaction, "now that Ajatasutra's here."

  Young Tarun shook his head. "Thirteen-to-one. Well. A bit more."

  The glare bestowed upon him by the Ye-tai mercenary was a half-and-half business. On the one hand, it was unseemly for a mere stable-boy-a wretched Bengali, to boot-to correct his superior and elder. On the other hand. .

  "Thirteen-to-one," he said, with still greater satisfaction.

  His two mates weren't even half-glaring. In fact, they were almost smiling.

  Under normal circumstances, of course, thirteen-to-one odds would have been horrible. But those Ye-tai mercenaries were all veterans. The kind of fighting they were considering would not be the clash of huge armies on a great battlefield, where individual prowess usually got lost in the sheer mass of the conflict. No, this would be the sort of small-scale action out of which legends were mad
e, because legends mattered.

  The Mongoose was already a legend. His huge Roman companion wasn't, but they had no difficulty imagining him as such. "Bending horseshoes," with Anastasius in the vicinity, was not a phrase to express the impossible.

  As for Ajatasutra. .

  "Some people think you're the best assassin in India," said one of the Ye-tai.

  "Not any Marathas," came the immediate rejoinder. Smiling, Ajatasutra added: "But I think even Marathas might allow me the honor of second-best."

  Chapter 29

  The Iron Triangle

  "It's just impossible," said Anna wearily, leaning her head against her husband's shoulder. "That great mass of people out there isn't really a city. It's a huge refugee camp, with more people pouring into it every day. Just when I think I've got one problem solved, the solution collapses under the weight of more refugees."

  Calopodius stroked her hair, listening to the cannonade outside the bunker. The firing seemed a lot heavier than usual, on the Malwa side. He wondered if they might be getting nervous. By now, their spies were sure to have reported that a large Persian army had been camped briefly just across the river from the Iron Triangle.

  But he gave only a small part of his mind to that matter. He had much more pressing and immediate things to deal with.

  "Have you given any thought as to what you'd like to do, after the war? With the rest of your life, I mean."

  Anna's head stirred. "Some," she said softly.

  "And what did you decide?"

  Now, her head lifted off his shoulder entirely. He knew she was looking at him sideways.

  "Do you care?" she asked, still more softly.

  He started to respond with "of course," but the words died before they were spoken. He'd spent quite a bit of time thinking about Anna, lately, and knew full well that "of course" was not an answer that would have even occured to him a few months ago.

  So, he simply said: "Yes. I do."

  There was a pause for a few seconds. Then, Anna's head came back to nestle on his shoulder again. "I think I'd like to keep the Service going. Somehow or other. I like healing people."

  Calopodius kissed her hair. It felt rich and luxurious to him; more so now, than when he'd been able to see it.

  "All right," he said. "That shouldn't be too hard."

  Anna issued a sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle. "Not too hard! It's expensive, husband. Not even your family's rich enough to subsidize medical charity on that scale. Not for very long. And once the war is over, the money Belisarius and the army have been giving me will dry up."

  It was Calopodius' turn to hesitate. "Yes, I know. But. . how would you feel about remaining here in India?"

  "I wouldn't mind. But why India?"

  "Lots of reasons. I've been thinking about our situation myself. But let's start with three. One that matters-I think-to you. One that matters to me. And one that would matter to my family. Perhaps more to the point, my family's coffers."

  Her head came back off his shoulder and, a moment later, Calopodius could feel her shifting her weight entirely. Within a few seconds, she was no longer lying beside him on their pallet but was sitting on it cross-legged, facing him. He knew the sensation quite well. Whenever they had something to really talk about, Anna preferred to be sitting up.

  "Explain."

  "Let's start with you. You already know that if our world keeps the same historical pattern with regard to disease as the one we diverged from, a terrible plague is 'scheduled' to start in eight years or so. By the time it's over, millions of people in the Mediterranean world will be dead."

  "It might have already started, in fact," Anna mused. "Somewhere in China. Where the death toll will be just as bad."

  Calopodius nodded. He wasn't surprised that she'd remembered that part of the future history that Belisarius had imparted to them.

  "Yes. It'll enter the Roman Empire in Alexandria, in the year 541. But it almost certainly got transmitted through India."

  He heard Anna draw in a sharp breath. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "Then I think you should start thinking about it. If you move fast enough-fast enough and with enough money and authority-between your Service and the Hospitalers in Alexandria, it might be possible to forestall the plague. Reduce its effects, anyway."

  "There's no cure for it," she said. "And no. . what's the word?"

  " 'Vaccine,' " Calopodius supplied.

  "Yes. No vaccine. Not anything we could make in time, in sufficient quantities."

  Calopodius shrugged. "True. But from what Belisarius told me Aide said to him, it wasn't really a medical 'cure' that defeated the plague in the future, anyway. It was mostly just extensive and thorough public health and sanitation. Stuff as simple and plebeian as good sewers and clean drinking water. That is within our technological capacity."

  He listened to Anna breathing, for a while. Then she said: "It would take a lot of money, and a lot of political influence."

  "Yes. It'd be a life's work. Are you willing?"

  She laughed abruptly. "I'm willing. But is the money willing? And. ." Her voice lowered. "I really don't want to do anything that you wouldn't be happy with."

  He smiled. "Not to worry! What I want to do is write histories and public commentaries. But what do I write about, once the war is over?"

  He moved right on to supply the answer: "Write about India, that's what. Just think of it, love. An entire continent. One that Rome knows almost nothing about and with a history even longer than Rome's."

  Silence.

  "Your life's work, then," Anna mused. Then, issued that same abrupt laugh. "So where's the money to come from?"

  His smile widened, becoming very close to a grin. "Well, we'll have to keep it hidden from your family. Even from mine, the rough details. But you and I are about to found a branch of the Saronites enterprises, here in India. Crude stuff, I'm afraid. Manufacturing, mostly."

  He wasn't surprised at all that the woman his wife had become did not even stumble over the prospect. "Manufacturing what?"

  "I thought we'd start with medical supplies and equipment. Also pharmaceuticals. Nothing fancy, though. Mostly soap, dyes and cosmetics, at the beginning. Belisarius told me those were the substances that were the big money-makers for the chemical industry when it got really started in the future. In what he calls the 'industrial revolution.' Once the business gets rolling, we can expand into medicines."

  "And exactly which one of us is going to oversee and organize this grand scheme of yours?" she demanded.

  "Neither of us. We just front the money-I can get enough to start from my father-and we-mostly you-provide the political influence. I figured we could bring up your banker from Barbaricum-"

  "Pulinda?"

  "Yes, him. He's shrewd as they come, and he knows India. For running the technical end, we'll use Eusebius."

  "If he agrees. He might not-"

  "I already asked him. He says he'd love to. He's tired of figuring out new ways to kill people."

  "You already asked him?"

  "Yes. And I think Justinian will go for it, too. Not directly, of course. He's got to get back to Constantinople as soon as the war's over or Theodora will send out the executioners. But he's intrigued by the idea and says he's sure he can siphon us some imperial financing-provided he gets to play with the gadgets at his end."

  The pallet lurched. Calopodius knew that Anna had risen to her feet. Jumped to her feet, more like.

  "You asked the Emperor of Rome to be our business partner in a manufacturing scheme? Are you out of your mind?"

  "He's not the emperor any longer, dear," Calopodius pointed out mildly. "Photius is."

  "Still!"

  "He's the Grand Justiciar. And you know how much he loves to play with gadgets."

  "My husband!" Anna burst into laughter that was not abrupt at all.

  * * *

  Kungas came to his decision and moved away from the window looking out over Peshawar. "All r
ight," he said, "we'll do it."

  He gave the small group of Ye-tai deserters a gaze that wasn't cold so much as simply impassive. The way a glacier contemplates so many rocks who might be in its way when it ground forward to the sea. More indifferent than icy, since the outcome was inevitable.

  The Ye-tai were squatting on the floor of his private audience chamber. They seemed like so many rocks, indeed, as motionless as they were. And for good reason. First, they were disarmed. Second, the Kushan soldiers standing around and guarding them were armed to the teeth. Third, there was no love lost between Kushans and Ye-tai to begin with. Hadn't been for a century, since the invading Ye-tai had broken the Kushan kingdom that Kungas had re-created.

  "If you're lying, of course, you're dead men."

  The Ye-tai squad leader made a shrug that was as minimal as any Kungas himself might have made. "Why would we lie?"

  "I can't think of any reason myself. Which is why I decided to believe you." Kungas' crack of a smile came. "Besides, Sarmatians are noted for their honesty. Even half-Sarmatians."

  That little joke brought a ripple of laughter in the room, as much from the Kushan guards as the Ye-tai prisoners. For the first time since they'd been ushered into the chamber-frog-marched, more like-the Ye-tai visibly relaxed.

  Although his thin smile had remained, Kungas had not joined the laughter. When it ended, he shook his head.

  "I'm not joking, really. You six are the founding members of my new military unit. If you're not lying-and I'm assuming you aren't-then you won't be the last Malwa deserters coming over to us. So I think I'll enroll all of you in the. . What to call it?"

  Irene piped up, sitting on a chair to one side. "The Royal Sarmatian Guards."

  "That'll do nicely." Kungas turned to his lieutenants. "Get the army formed up. I want to march out tomorrow morning, early. Leave five thousand men in the capital."

  "I won't need that many," said Irene. "Three thousand is plenty to maintain order and keep the hill tribes from getting any ideas."