"When I return from the inspection tomorrow evening, I will," he promised her.
"And then we can plan our escape, if we do not have to go before dawn," she said.
"Yes," he said. "Sleep, Tulsi."
"Wake me if—"
"If I must, I will."
Tulsi snuggled a bit closer to him. "Good," she murmured.
Sanat Ji Mani waited until she was soundly asleep, then eased out of the bed and began to pay attention to the hall, listening for the soft footfalls of servants and the distant closing of doors. It was times like
this that he missed reading, for it would have pleased him to spend his waiting time in study; but books were not available, and he had to content himself with his thoughts and his memories.
Shortly before midnight, he rose, went to the chest and took out a robe of sienna-colored silk, pulled it on over the bronze pyjamas, and slipped out of the room, going down the corridor to the stairs that led to the side-garden that gave on to the marshaling court. It was not difficult to deepen the slumber of the dozing sentry; Sanat Ji Mani waited until he heard the man snore, then slipped through the gate and made his way to the rear end of the stables, ducking between the enormous tack-room and the first aisle of stalls. Some of the nearer horses whickered at him, but none of them raised the alarm by neighing loudly. Moving quickly, Sanat Ji Mani determined that most of the stalls had two horses, indicating a build-up in numbers. He made a quick pass through the first aisle and went on to the next, checking on the horses there, and in the four aisles beyond. When he had finished, he glanced across the arm of the courtyard to the next stable, which fronted on the forward part of the marshaling court. This was the building Tulsi had seen a little of, and it was the place where Hasin Dahele kept his own mounts. Tempting though it was to cross the courtyard and continue his review, Sanat Ji Mani hesitated, aware that the Rajput's personal horses were apt to be guarded. Neither stable had easy access to any unguarded exit, not even to an exercise pen or a paddock outside the walls, which meant that any escape on horseback could only be done with confusion to mask it. Sanat Ji Mani checked the tack-room, looking for saddles and bridles, and found them set on wedges and pegs affixed to the wall, many of them newly installed, the wood still showing where the saws had gone; at least tack was accessible, that was something.
He had just stepped out of the tack-room when a gong sounded the change of watch; Sanat Ji Mani moved back into the shadows of the stable to observe the sentries coming off their posts, noticing how well-disciplined they were and how quickly they went about their duties; all the Guards were more heavily armed than they had been two nights ago. The prospect of war weighed heavily on Sanat Ji Mani as he made his way back to the room he shared with Tulsi, and kept him
awake until the sky was glowing with the coming of day.
"What did you find out?" Tulsi asked once she had stretched and yawned herself awake.
"Not as much as I would like and too much to comfort me," he replied. "I think it is important that you and I be ready to move soon. Not this morning, because the Guards on the walls are carrying bows as well as spears, and that makes the chances for a successful escape much smaller than when all the Guards carried was spears."
She thought about this. "Bows do give an advantage," she said, trying to appear unconcerned. "We should probably not try to outrun arrows."
"Truly," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"Did you get into the stables?" she asked, trying to find something encouraging to talk about.
"The rear stable, yes; not the front stable. There has been a definite increase in horses, for they are stalled in pairs, not alone. It will not be easy to get out of the stables and through the gates— both are in full view of the Guards." Discouraging as this was, Sanat Ji Mani knew he had to tell her what he thought. "I was not impressed with most of the horses," he added. "Too much Mawari in the stock. They are sickle-hocked, most of them, and will probably not hold up under a long campaign, although I have heard they are tough and light-keepers." As he said this, he remembered the Spiti ponies that had brought him and Rogerian through the mountains of the Land of Snows; they were narrow-bodied and straight-necked, but they had managed the rigorous journey better than many other breeds might have. "The Rajput would do well to find some Caspian stallions, or a Turkmene line to add shoulder and heart-room to his stud." He did not realize that Tulsi was staring at him until he glanced toward her.
"I did not know you have had so much experience of horses," she said a bit faintly.
His smile was quick. "I have had a long time to learn," he told her. "I have come to put a great deal of value on stamina in horses, but even more on temperament."
She pursed her lips, giving his remarks some thought. "What did you think of Timur-i's ponies?"
"Oh, they are tough as leather, and can trot forever," said Sanat Ji Mani. "But most of them are straight-shouldered and have trouble with their backs after they are ten or so. You have seen how few older ponies are used for fighting, and when they cannot be used for war, they become food; those ponies, left to themselves, are long-lived." He looked past her, mentally watching the hardy ponies of Timur-i's army. "And most of them are intractable and mean. They are not trained to be willing, but that is not the whole of it; the breed is obstinate."
"And you think the same of the Rajput's horses?" she asked.
"I think they, too, are not raised for willingness." He stopped talking.
"What is it?" Tulsi could not fathom what commanded his attention.
"I must think of something to say that will please the Rajput that will not make it appear I have no understanding of horses," he said.
"You will think of the best approach; you are very skillful with words." There was no tinge of criticism in her voice, and no suggestion of blame in her manner, but he brought up his head as if stung.
"If you mean that I—" He stopped as he saw the shock in her eyes. "I apologize. I thought you meant that I have manipulated you with words. And, I own, I have."
"Not to my disadvantage," she said, and changed the subject. "You should rest while you can, and while the sun is most enervating. I will break my fast and return here before morning is half-over. Then you can prepare for your meeting with the Rajput this evening."
"Very sensible of you," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I will take your advice and sleep as much as I can."
Tulsi came to the side of the bed. "I shall say no one is to disturb you; the servants are not to enter this room."
"Thank you," he said, preparing to surrender to the torpor that among his kind passed for sleep.
She bent and kissed him lightly. "You have done much for me, Sanat Ji Mani. Even if you do not get us out of this, I am grateful to all you have given me."
He whispered a few words in a language she did not recognize, and lapsed into a stupefaction that quickly resembled near-death.
When he woke again, it was mid-morning and the sound of servants washing the floors in the corridor echoed along the stones and rose and fell like the sea. He rose and stripped off his robe, revealing his bronze pyjamas beneath. He brushed the lustrous silk and smoothed his hair, and stepped out into the hallway to go to the baths, wanting to present himself newly clean to the Rajput. The basins were empty and the fountain splashed rose-scented water. He chose the tepid pool and set his clothing aside before he got into the water; he did his best to ignore the queasiness the water imparted to him, and finished his washing quickly. His slow-growing beard was in need of shaving again, and he resolved to tend to it the following morning, aware he would miss Rojire more than ever while he was at the task. He was about to get out and dry himself when he heard voices in the hallway. He made himself very still and listened.
"Why do you encourage him to go to war?" asked a man Sanat Ji Mani could not recognize.
"Because it is his karma to be a conqueror," said Vaya Ede. "I have seen it in a vision."
"But how can you know he will win?" the first man pursued. "Beragar is prosperous now; where other Rajputs have been riddled with foreigners and intrigue, we have done well. Why risk this good fortune in the hope that war will—" A portion of what he was saying was lost— "that better can be had."
"Timur-i will make it possible," said Vayu Ede; whatever else he said faded, leaving Sanat Ji Mani to mull over the little he had heard: what had Timur-i to do with the Rajput's ambition, unless he was committed to claiming a piece of the Delhi Sultanate? That would account for his desire to keep Sanat Ji Mani and Tulsi with him, and for his build-up in horses and equipment. Who were the men he had overhead? And why were they having such a discussion at so late an hour? Was it to keep their remarks private, or had they intended to be overheard?
Tulsi was waiting in their room when he returned, dry and dressed, his dark hair still damp. "The women of the household are not talking to me," she announced. "Until now they have tried to speak to me, even though they knew I could not understand."
"Which is no longer entirely the case," Sanat Ji Mani pointed out.
"Very true," she agreed. "But they have tried to include me, to engage me in ways that did not need words. Today I might as well have been a statue in the garden."
"And what did you do?" Sanat Ji Mani asked.
"What
could
I do?" she countered. "I sat and ate and said nothing. I tried to understand as much of their conversation as I could."
"Did you learn anything of interest?" Sanat Ji Mani knew that she now had a rudimentary grasp of the local dialect and would understand most simple conversations.
"Only that the Rajput is planning to set out on a little campaign to press his frontiers back to the Godavari River, to establish a defined border on the north. At least, that seemed to be the sense of it." Tulsi paused, her eyes focused on a distant place. "There is a gap between the pass to the coast and the source of the Godavari River, isn't there?"
"Yes," said Sanat Ji Mani, recalling the maps he had seen in Delhi. "The pass is not an impossible one to use, and there are trade roads there." He frowned. "So Hasin Dahele is going west. Does he want to control the ports, or is he planning to seize the coast and work his way up to the Sabarmati River?"
"That is in Gujerat, and there is still fighting in Gujerat," said Tulsi.
"Then he might plan to swing inland, and take the mountain regions." Sanat Ji Mani frowned. "There is still something we do not know in all this."
"Do you think you will be able to find it out?" Tulsi goaded. "Because if this unknown thing concerns us, then it would be best if we could find out what it is." She took a deep, uneven breath. "Sanat Ji Mani, I am getting frightened, and I do not want to stay frightened."
"I can hardly blame you for that," said Sanat Ji Mani. He shook his head. "Neither you nor I have the look of the people of this region, or we might be able to hide among the populace and make our way out of Beragar at our own pace. But that is not possible. So we must use other means."
"Tonight? After you review the stables?" She sounded eager.
"Do you want to be back on the road again, Tulsi? Are you certain you would not prefer to remain here in this place, with comforts and
pleasures around you?" He was not entirely serious, but he wanted to be satisfied that she had considered all that might happen to her once they left the palace.
"I would rather not have to worry about poison, Sanat Ji Mani, or the possibility of separation, or the problems of being among strangers who may mean me ill." She leaped up and grabbed hold of the main ceiling beam, and began to perform her contortions around it. "This can keep me well enough in other places. I only want to vanish."
"To vanish?" he repeated, wondering if he had heard her aright.
"Yes; we are too visible here, and that attracts us notice that is dangerous. If we could simply disappear, we would be safe." She stretched along the beam, sinuous as a snake.
"You astonish me," said Sanat Ji Mani, watching Tulsi extend and twist around the beam.
"I saw a python a few days ago, and he gave me this idea. I have not achieved as much as I would like, but I think this can be advantageous." She let go of the beam and landed on her feet. "Next I have to practice moving through small spaces, and then I will have something to rival the mystics who meditate in various postures. I do not wish to be made to look paltry by old men in meditation."
"However you use it, I am truly impressed." Sanat Ji Mani touched her face gently. "You have great courage, Tulsi, and you are resourceful. I cannot think how I could have come so far without you."
"I would not have gone anywhere but in the back of Djerat's wagon if you had not been with me." Her smile had a little weariness in it, a fatigue that was more than physical. "I will be glad to be gone from here."
"Particularly since the Rajput is bent on going to war," Sanat Ji Mani agreed. "So. When I return tonight, we will make our plans."
