"You cannot want this," said Bohdil, aghast.
"In general, no, I do not. But Timur-i has made what I want impossible, so I must do what I can to minimize his damage." Sanat Ji Mani saw the dismay in Bohdil's eyes, and went on, "I will provide you with money, and one or two jewels, so you need not be beggars. But hurry. I want you away from here as soon as you can make yourself ready. Gather your belongings. I will saddle the horses for you, and then fetch your coins." He gestured, sending Bohdil off before he started toward the stable. Once there, he lit four of the oil-lamps and began to groom the two horses left in the stalls. He worked quickly, not bothering with combing the manes or tails of the two mares. He saddled and bridled the horses and led them into the stable yard to the trough so they could drink. He patted the neck of the nearer mare, saying, "You will do better away from here, my girl."
Bohdil was the first to return, an improvised pack slung over his shoulder. "I have told Shudra, but he is afraid— he does not know how to ride a horse."
"He will learn," said Sanat Ji Mani, a determined note in his light reply. "Leave by the southern River Gate. No one will stop you there if you give them a bit of silver."
"Must it be now?" Bohdil asked as he prepared to mount the taller mare.
"I fear it should have been yesterday." Sanat Ji Mani sighed once. "I should have been more circumspect."
"Do you think Timur-i is really going to attack Delhi? How can he hope to succeed?" Bohdil leaned down to set his stirrups.
"He has not failed before," Sanat Ji Mani pointed out, then glanced up as Shudra came out of the house, an untidy bundle clasped in his arms, his clothing in disarray; he muttered what seemed to be an apology to Sanat Ji Mani, who went on, "I am sorry to have to require this of you. I do not want to have to answer to your families for your lives."
Shudra stared at the grey mare waiting for him, and blanched. "I cannot," he whispered.
"Bohdil will help you," Sanat Ji Mani said as if he had not heard.
"But I have never ridden anything but a donkey," he protested.
"This mare is well-trained. Let Bodhil take the lead and she will follow after. You have nothing to fear from the horse," Sanat Ji Mani said pointedly. "Remaining here can be dangerous." He held out his joined hands to assist the assistant cook to mount. "Go as fast as you can, as far as you can tonight. It is almost the dark of the year, and you have many hours of night to hide your escape."
Bohdil made an impatient sound with his tongue. "Come, Shudra. Hurry. They may shut the gates at any time, and we will be stuck here." He nodded to Sanat Ji Mani. "You said you would provide us money…?"
"Yes. I will be back in a moment," Sanat Ji Mani said, going into the house and directly to his study. There he removed a dozen gold and half-a-dozen silver coins from his chest, then took them out to the two servants in the courtyard. "Here. This is your wages to this day, and some extra. It will pay for food and lodging and allow you some left over when you reach Kol."
"Burn incense to Ganesh, my master," said Bohdil. "And to Vishnu." He swung his horse around to face the gate. "You have been kind to us. May it ease your karma."
"Thank you," said Sanat Ji Mani, opening the gates for them. "Leave quickly."
Bohdil clapped his heels to the mare's side and she moved forward, the second mare followed after, Shudra clinging to the saddle. "Until fate brings us together again," he called back over his shoulder.
As soon as the two were outside, Sanat Ji Mani closed the gate and barred it, then went back into his empty house, climbing to the laboratory on the top floor, where he busied himself making several vials of his sovereign remedy from the two large jars of moldy bread. He was still keeping watch over the athanor when the sun rose, made glarey by thin, high clouds. He told himself that when his final batch of sovereign remedy was finished, he would break up the athanor and make his way to the house of Zal Iniattir, to join his family in their departure to the south-south-east. It was the most sensible thing to do, given that Timur-i was approaching. He estimated he would complete his work by mid-day; he would forgo the pleasure of a long nap: he would sleep when he was well beyond the walls of Delhi. He was preparing a saddle-bag for his jars and vials when a sharp pounding on the door caught his attention; having no one to answer the summons but himself, he made his way down to the front door, where he found six armed men from the palace waiting.
"You are Sanat Ji Mani?" asked the leader of the man without the courtesy of a greeting.
"I am," said Sanat Ji Mani, wondering what new tax was about to be imposed upon him.
"You are the wealthy foreigner who heals?" the leader persisted.
"I suppose I am," said Sanat Ji Mani, sounding wary and tired at once. "I am foreign, I do possess some wealth, and I have some skill with medicinal materials, but I am not a physician in the sense of those men trained in this city." He did not add that he had received his initial instruction in treating the injured and ill at the Temple of Imhotep in the Egypt of the Pharaohs.
"You have healed the sick and wounded," said the leader. "You have treated those with fever and they have recovered."
"Upon occasion," Sanat Ji Mani answered steadily, which was enough for the leader of the soldiers.
"We serve Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq: he wishes you to attend him at once." This was an order with only the faintest pretext of being an
invitation. "You are to bring your medicaments and tools, and whatever other supplies you may need."
"I have work on-going. I will put myself at his disposal shortly after noon," said Sanat Ji Mani as politely as he could.
"You are to come with us— now." The leader laid his hand on the hilt of his shimtare. "We are told to bring you, and your things."
Sanat Ji Mani took a long breath. "May I have a few moments to keep my work from spoiling? I will need to go into my house to fetch my supplies, in any case. It will not take me very long to do the things that will let me salvage my work."
The leader considered this. "I will come with you. If you try to escape or to barricade yourself inside your house, I will hack off your hands in punishment."
"I will try to do as you wish," said Sanat Ji Mani, feeling the desperation of these men. "You have my Word on it. You do not have to compel me with threats." The thought of having to live so horribly maimed was enough to make him proceed warily; he wanted to provide the soldiers with no excuse to harm him.
"Your word may satisfy some, but I will watch you," said the leader, signaling the others to remain where they were. "This is a most important errand, and we may not fail."
Sanat Ji Mani went up the flights of stairs with a swiftness that had the leader panting with effort; he reached his top floor several steps ahead of the soldier, and used that minuscule time to conceal most of his apparatus. Then he grabbed the saddle-bags and thrust the waiting vials and jars into them just as the leader of the soldiers heaved himself into the room. "I am almost ready," he said, regretting now that he had not dismantled the athanor earlier that morning.
"Well, make haste," said the soldier gruffly, having to say something to maintain his authority.
"I am doing my utmost," said Sanat Ji Mani, and pointed to a small case of medical instruments. "If you will carry that for me, I would be grateful." He could have carried it himself, but that would draw attention to his strength and could lead to speculation that would not be welcome.
"As you wish," said the soldier, taking the case into his hands and holding it gingerly. "Is it fragile?"
"Not particularly, but carry it charily; the instruments are valuable." And virtually irreplacable, he added to himself. He took a last look around the top room of his house, wondering vaguely if he would ever see it again. Over the centuries he had left so many houses behind, he reminded himself, he should be used to such loss by now.
"What is it?" the soldier asked.
Sanat Ji Mani gave a single shake of his head. "Nothing." He went to the stairs. "Come. It is time to be off."
"Very well," said the soldier, descending the stairs behind Sanat Ji Mani, the small chest held out ahead of him like an offering. "I am told to bring you to Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq, who is on the walls of the city."
"For what purpose?" Sanat Ji Mani asked, wanting to know why he had been summoned in this abrupt way.
The leader of the soldiers interpreted the inquiry another way: "Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq is watching the approach of Timur-i's army. They are to the west-north-west of the city, and coming quickly."
"Ah," said Sanat Ji Mani, understanding at last. "Yes. He had to come, did he not."
"He is here," said the leader as they reached the ground floor again. "You will put yourself at the disposal of Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq. He will decide what you are to do."
"He is going to fight?" Sanat Ji Mani went to the gate where the other soldiers waited.
"As Allah Wills," said the leader of the soldiers.
"Of course," Sanat Ji Mani agreed, stepping outside and pulling his gate closed. "Very well. Tell me where I am to go."
"We will escort you," said the leader, and motioned his men to form an escort around Sanat Ji Mani, marching him out of the Foreigners' Quarter and off toward the north-western battlements of Delhi. The soldiers cleared a way through the streets where restless excitement had reached a dangerous pitch, for there were now hundreds trying to escape from the city, all of them trying to reach the eastern gates, away from Timur-i's advancing hosts.
"Come this way," the leader shouted to Sanat Ji Mani as they reached the entrance to the marshaling yard where men, horses, and elephants were crowded together in an attempt to face the brunt of
the attack. The leader guided Sanat Ji Mani along the edge of the marshaling yard, and pointed to the base of a tower that gave access to the battlements. "The archers are forming their companies at the next gate," the leader said, as he and his men urged Sanat Ji Mani up the stairs and into the tower.
"You cannot come any farther," said Kanwar Gotanipi, resplendent in his silks and mail. He blocked the way to the battlements.
"Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq sent for this man," said the leader of soldiers. "We were ordered to present him."
"I command this quadrant of the city," said Kanwar Gotanipi. "I say you must turn back."
The leader of the soldiers signaled to his men. "You may command this quadrant, but we serve the Sultan and his deputies. You must permit us to pass or answer to Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq for our failure to comply with the orders we have been given."
Kanwar Gotanipi stood very straight. "You have no authority to do this."
"I have more than you do," said the leader of the soldiers. "Stand aside, you Brahman fool, and let us get on with our work."
There was a long moment of stillness, then Kanwar Gotanipi stepped aside with an elaborate shrug. "If you wish to be reprimanded, what is it to me?"
The leader of the soldiers did not dignify this petulant remark with any comment; he nodded to his men and Sanat Ji Mani as they went out onto the battlements and into the brisk wind, where Firuz Ihbal bin Tughluq waited, surrounded by men in various kinds of armor, all of whom were peering out into the middle distance where a vast cloud of dust rolled into the shining sky.
"How long do you think it will take them to reach the city?" Firuz Ihbal asked without turning.
"The mounted troops will be here soon, I should think," said Sanat Ji Mani. "The rest of the army will take a little longer— perhaps until tomorrow."
"So fast," said Firuz Ihbal. "But I suppose you are right." He sighed and gave his attention to Sanat Ji Mani. "We must be ready to meet them, to show them the futility of attacking us."
"I doubt you can persuade them of that," said Sanat Ji Mani drily. "They must think you have something worthwhile, or they would not be here."
"So you say," Firuz Ihbal declared. "But they also worship Allah, and they will honor our faith."
"They have not done so for other followers of Islam," Sanat Ji Mani said quietly. "Why should they make an exception for you?"
"We are a great city, and we have done nothing to deserve slaughter." Firuz Ihbal stared at Sanat Ji Mani for some time. "In any case, there will be casualties, and I will require your help in treating wounded men." He clapped his hands. "I will order the slaves to make a place for you to do your work. When the men have all been tended to, you may take your treasure and go without any hindrance. I swear it as if my hand were on the
Qran
."
Sanat Ji Mani was keenly aware that such vows meant nothing unless the man's hand actually was on the
Qran
, but knew this was not the time to challenge Firuz Ihbal. "I would not want to see men suffer if I could do anything to prevent it, no matter what cause they fought for," he said, his manner self-effacing enough to satisfy Firuz Ihbal. "You need not offer me a bribe to do what must be done."
