In the Heart of Darkness(108)

Sanga and Damodara exchanged glances. Sanga spoke:



"I will deal with the matter, Lord Jivita. I will be passing through the Panther Gate within the hour. I will lash those men myself. You have my word on it."



"Excellent!" exclaimed Jivita.



"I'm off, then." Sanga began to turn away. Nanda Lal called him back.



"A moment, Rana Sanga. I want your opinion."



"Yes?"



The spymaster's broken face was ugly, with frustration as much as rage.



"We are still missing something. I can feel it in my bones," he growled. "It's clear enough that the Romans and Ethiopians who fled south—after killing the guards at the barge and blowing up the armory—were simply a diversion. Belisarius, himself, went west. But—there's something else. I can smell it. More duplicity."



Sanga paused, thinking.



"I don't have much time now, Nanda Lal," he mused. "But several questions come to my mind. I suggest you think on them."



"Yes?"



"First. What happened to the treasure? Belisarius had two great chests full of gold and jewels. It's not the kind of thing any man wants to leave behind. But how did he get it away? He himself—a single Ye-tai on foot—could have only been carrying a pittance. Nor could his underlings have carried more than a portion of it. Not maintaining their incredible pace, weighted down with all that treasure."



Nanda Lal tugged at the bandage.



"What else?"



"There were too many Ye-tai running around that night. The soldiers at the army camp insisted that they saw Belisarius himself. But when I questioned some of them, they could only say that 'the Ye-tai' told them so. Which Ye-tai?"



"I will find out. What else?"



"Too many Ye-tai—and not enough Kushans. What happened to Belisarius' Kushan escort? I have heard nothing of them since that night. What happened to them? Did the Romans and Ethiopians kill them all? I doubt it—not those Kushans. I know their commander. Not well, but well enough. His name is Kungas, and he would not have been taken by surprise. What happened to him and his men?"



Glaring, now, and tugging fiercely on his bandage:



"And what else?"



Sanga shrugged. "With Belisarius, who knows? I would trace everything back to the beginning, from the day he arrived in India. I can see no connection, but—I always wondered, Nanda Lal. Exactly how did Shakuntala escape from Venandakatra's palace?"



Jivita interrupted, his voice full of irritation:



"What is the point of this, Rana Sanga? Everybody knows how she escaped. That fiend Rao butchered her guards and took her away."



Rana Sanga stared at him. He managed to keep any trace of contempt out of his face.



"So? Have you ever spoken—personally—to the Pathan trackers who were with the Rajputs who tried to recapture Rao and the princess?"



Jivita drew back haughtily.



"That is hardly my—"



"No, he didn't," interrupted Nanda Lal. "Neither did I. Should I have?"



Sanga shrugged. "Every Pathan tracker claimed there was only one set of footprints to be found, not two. A man's footprints. No trace of a woman at all." Sanga stroked his beard. "And that's not the only peculiar thing about that escape. I know none of the details, but—again, I have wondered. How did one man kill all those guards? Excellent guards, I would assume?"



He caught the odd look in Nanda Lal's eyes.



"Tell me," he commanded.



"She was being guarded by priests and mahamimamsa," muttered Nanda Lal.



"What?" erupted Sanga. "Who in their right mind would set any but the finest soldiers to guard someone—from Rao?" For the second time that day, Sanga lost his temper. "Are you Malwa all mad?" he roared. "I have fought Raghunath Rao in single combat! He was the most terrifying warrior I ever encountered!"



The Malwa in the room, for all their rank, almost cringed. They knew the story. All of India knew that story.



"From Raghunath Rao? You—you—imbeciles—thought to guard Shakuntala from Rao—with priests? Stinking torturers?"



Jivita tried to rally his Malwa outrage, but the attempt collapsed under the sheer fury of the Rajput's glare. Lord Damodara coughed apologetically.



"Please, Rana Sanga! It was Lord Venandakatra's decision, not ours. He was concerned about the girl's purity, it seems. So he put her in the custody of sworn celibates instead of—"



It was almost comical, the way Damodara and Nanda Lal's jaws dropped in unison.



"—instead of an elite Kushan unit," finished Nanda Lal, hoarsely.