The Travelers' Camp, inside the North-West Gate, is not very full just now. Not many want to be abroad in the rains. I do anticipate that more travelers will come as soon as the weather changes, and then we shall have the revenues from them as well as from the other foreigners who live here to bolster your depleted coffers. I shall be certain that some of my men mix with the travelers to learn their news and to apprehend any spies that may be sent among us. In two to four weeks, we will be busy again at the Travelers' Camp.
Submitted to you in the hope that it will fulfill your mandate, and with every assurance of my continued dedication to the Sultan,
Kanwar Gotanipi
In the Foreigners' Quarter, sent by messenger
8
"The rains arrived late, and they are leaving late," said Firuz Ihbal; he was as worried by the continuing downpour and thrashing winds as he had been apprehensive about their late appearance. He paced the gallery of his lavish house, occasionally turning to glare out at the wet.
"If it halts our work, it also halts Timur-i," said Iksander Mawan, his most trusted eunuch. "Allah is Great."
"
If
Timur-i is where we suppose he is, and
if
the rains are falling farther west as they are here, then perhaps you are right," said Firuz Ihbal at his most grudging. "I cannot say."
"And that is what most distresses you, Estimable Lord," said Iksander Mawan, his voice high and strong; there was nothing the least effeminate about him— not even his lack of a beard made him seem less a man for what had been done to him. "The men you have dispatched to scout for him have not returned and they are feared lost. This troubles you, as well it should. You fret because you do not know if they have fallen into the hands of Timur-i, and he has wrested information from them that may cause him to come here rather than attack another place, or if they have met with some other danger."
"Yes, yes, yes," Firuz Ihbal admitted impatiently. "I still hope that one of the scouts will come back, and shortly, to tell us what we are to face. We cannot prepare to meet a foe we do not know but that they are ferocious and cruel. Since the Sultan remains away from Delhi and it falls to me to act in his interests, I am willing to build up the army as much as possible, but I would prefer to know what we will have to fight with it before I empty the treasury."
"You have nothing to worry about," Iksander Mawan assured him. "You need only display all the might of Delhi, and Timur-i, demon though he may be, and servant of Shaitan, will hesitate to attack such fortifications as we have here."
"May Allah grant it," said Firuz Ihbal more devoutly than usual. "This city is strong, and our soldiers are prepared."
"Are you going to let your worries undermine your determination, Estimable Lord? or are you going to embrace your strength and show the people they have nothing to fear?" Iksander Mawan spread his large hand on his mail breastplate. "We stand by you, and by the Sultan. There can be no doubt that we have the might to prevail in any battle."
"Yes. Of course," said Firuz Ihbal. He clapped his hands, and at once a slave came and bent double before him. "I wish to see all the army commanders this evening, to hear their reports. Tell them they must attend or lose their commission." With a gesture he sent the slave running off.
"A prudent move," said Iksander Mawan. "Any dismay brewing in the army will surely end if it can be shown that the leaders are prepared and confident."
"Which I must find out if they are," said Firuz Ihbal with less satisfaction than Iksander Mawan expressed. "If we must deal with Timur-i, then we cannot be laggard." He began to pace again. "If only I knew what was happening in the west. Our scouts do not return, and that is ominous. I have spoken to leaders of caravans, and all they tell me is that Timur-i can move his troops at four-days' march in a single day."
"That is idle talk," said Iksander Mawan. "They cannot travel at such speeds."
"They say each man has six horses. Six. Every man leads five and rides one. When his mount tires, the soldier saddles another, and so forth, and the horse he has been riding becomes one of the led. The horses all rest at the end of the day, and then continue on the next morning. Doing that, they can move at a trot from dawn until sunset for four days. Then they must rest a day, or they lose horses." He pulled at the ends of his mustaches. "If it is so, and he does move his army in that way, he is as dangerous as they claim. We cannot hope to keep ahead of such a force."
"But six horses for each man! and moving at a trot all day? Even if it were possible, the cost of it is prohibitive. Think of the expense of keeping six horses per man. They would need an army just to maintain the animals. How are such horses to be fed and watered?" Iksander Mawan was shocked. "What leader can keep so many?"
"Apparently Timur-i can," said Firuz Ihbal unpleasantly.
"That is the kind of fear that will undermine us all," said Iksander Mawan, shaking his head. "You must shut such thoughts from your heart and put your faith in Allah—"
"Whom Timur-i also worships," Firuz Ihbal reminded him as he continued to move restlessly about the room. "This is not some unconverted fool, but another Muslim. Would that he had the ancient faith of the Jagatai, so that Allah could show His Greatness by overcoming Timur-i on our behalf. But Timur-i prays five times a day as we do, and to Allah. How can the All-Compassionate favor one of us over the other?"
"Surely Timur-i's devotion is not so whole-hearted as yours," said Iksander Mawan. "The man is in the saddle from sunrise until sunset— you have said it yourself. He cannot be as pious as you and all the Tughluq clan is."
"You are hoping to ease my apprehension, and it is kindly of you, but at this time, I reckon that apprehension serves me well, and it is Allah Himself Who inspires it in my breast, not some trivial worry sprung from a lack of faith." Firuz Ihbal paused at the window. "The markets have been poor. Many merchants will not pay our customs and take their goods elsewhere, yet this is the time we need their goods, and their news, the most."
"Lower the customs," Iksander Mawan recommended. "Say it is because the rains have lasted so long, but give the merchants some concession so they will enter the city again."
"If the Sultan will approve such a reduction, then that may be the solution," said Firuz Ihbal, a bit sadly. "It would be better to have the money and the information, but you are probably right, and information is needed as much as goods."
"So it seems to me," said Iksander Mawan. "You may want to consult with your kinsmen, particularly Murmar bin Tughluq."
"Yes. He is still Minister of Taxes, Rents, and Revenues. He has been lining his pockets since the customs increased, but he might consent to take less for himself if he can be made to understand the urgency of the situation." He tugged at his moustaches again. "I will have to speak with him carefully. I do not want it said that I am working against the Sultan's interests."
"No, indeed," said Iksander Mawan, recalling the prolonged and hideous execution of the last official accused of such chicanery. "Better to show your devotion first and question the motives of others after your own are established."
"You are a wise fellow, Iksander Mawan," said Firuz Ihbal. "I will keep all you have said in mind. Now I will see my informers." It was an abrupt decision, but not an unexpected one. "Show them to the ante-chamber of the Yellow Room. I will see them individually. You will listen behind the ivory screen and give me your opinion when they have gone."
Iksander Mawan put his hands together and bowed. "As you wish, Estimable Lord, I will do."
"I am grateful," said Firuz Ihbal without much thought. "I will begin shortly."
"It shall be as you desire," said Iksander Mawan, and withdrew from Firuz Ihbal's presence. Once out of the private apartment, he strode along the palace corridor with purpose, inwardly pleased that other household slaves made way for him. As he reached the reception area, he found five undistinguished men waiting, all of them silent, and most unwilling to look at the others; one glanced about nervously from time to time. "Workers for Firuz Ihbal, come with me."
The five rose in response to Iksander Mawan's order, moving awkwardly, as if trying not be associated with one another. They formed an irregular cluster beside the handsome eunuch and allowed him to lead them back along the course he had come.
"Whom will he see first?" asked the man with a patch over one eye and a jagged scar on his jaw; he was known as Mirza and was known as Firuz Ihbal's assassin among the criminals of Delhi. "And how long will we have to wait to give our report?"
"That will be the pleasure of Firuz Ihbal to decide," said Iksander Mawan. "I will see to it that you have food and drink if you must long remain here for your audience."
"Just as well," said Josha Dar, who had already waited longer than he wanted to.
"You will be thankful for the attention of Firuz Ihbal," said Iksander Mawan bluntly.
"Why? He isn't Nasiruddin Mohammed bin Tughluq, is he?" The man who spoke the Sultan's name aloud was a thick-set, arrogant fellow who had the look of a bully.
The others stopped still and stared at him. Finally Iksander Mawan moved to confront the man. "You have done an importunate thing, Itimad, to speak the Sultan's name. You shall be punished for it." He clapped his hands, summoning a fair number of slaves. "Take him."
Itimad shouted his protests. "The Sultan is a coward! He has left us to face Timur-i alone! He should be driven from all Delhi!"
Iksander Mawan raised his hand and struck Itimad a blow that sent him reeling. "Enough!" he bellowed. "This man disgraces the Sultan
in his palace. Have him flogged and his arms broken so he can do no more mischief, and turn him out of the city. Do it now!"
Watching this, Josha Dar felt himself go cold. He did not hold the Sultan in high regard, but he knew better than to proclaim this to the world— and in the halls of the Sultan's palace. He licked his lips as he saw Itimad dragged away, still shouting, and struggling in the grip of the four slaves who held him.
"Come along," Iksander Mawan said to the remaining four.
"What if Itimad has useful information?" asked the one-eyed man.
"We will discover it," Iksander Mawan said, so coldly that the four men with him moved a little farther away from him, and followed him in silence back to Firuz Ihbal's apartments.
Firuz Ihbal saw the oldest of his informers first: an aged man, bent, and walking with a stick, but with sharp eyes and keen ears. "You have something to tell me, Bahbu. I am listening."
Bahbu began at once. "In the markets I have heard that many men traveling from the west have been taken captive and sold into slavery among the Afghani people. They do this so that their men may continue to fight their invaders. They also seize goods bound for our city, and they demand high prices for it in their markets."
"That is nothing new," said Firuz Ihbal critically. "You must have something to say that is more important."
"I have heard that there are followers of the Brahmin gods who are conspiring to mount opposition to the Sultan and to bring him down before Timur-i can arrive and destroy the city. They are afraid that the Sultan will desert them in time of need, and leave them to Timur-i's army. They plan to offer him the rights of plunder if he will spare Delhi." Bahbu shivered as he clung to his walking-stick, knowing that Firuz Ihbal might lash out at him for such an accusation.
"And do you believe that?" Firuz Ihbal asked smoothly. "Do you think they will do such a thing?"
"I think they will try," said Bahbu. "Or at least, I think they intend to try. They are certain that Delhi will be sacked and razed and all its people slaughtered if any attempt is made to defend it."
"Do you agree with them? that Timur-i will destroy this place?" Firuz Ihbal was pulling on his moustaches as he gave his full attention to the old man.
"I think it may come to that," Bahbu said quietly, cringing.
"And so you agree with the traitors?" Firuz Ihbal asked smoothly.
"Not with what they plan to do, no," said Bahbu at his most ingratiating. "But I think if Timur-i comes here, he will want to ruin the city."
"And do you think he can be bribed?" Firuz Ihbal pursued.
"I have no idea; Timur-i is not reputed to be influenced by bribes, but he may accept one if it is grand enough. I do know that Timur-i is said to enjoy carnage and to take satisfaction in devastation." He stood very still, half-expecting to be struck for his temerity.
"Anything else?" Firuz Ihbal asked after a short, nerve-wracking silence.
"No," said Bahbu, who wanted only to escape from the palace and return to his begging-place in the Camel-Drivers' Market.
Firuz Ihbal tossed him two silver coins. "Go with the thanks of the Sultan," he said, and called for Iksander Mawan. "See him out and bring me Mirza."
