Djerat understood him well enough to answer, "There are two more in the wagon."
"Not so many." He motioned the children away from the wagon. "It is well you have come to our village. We have feed for your mules and a meal for you and your companions. We will not demand much money."
"Good; we have traveled far and we are weary," said Djerat, her skeptical tone of voice belying her. "Where shall I put my wagon?"
"Over there," the man said, pointing to a frond-covered arbor just inside the gate. "There are seats for you and a barn for your team; there are stalls beyond the goats' pen."
Djerat drove her mules up to the barn and got down from the driving-seat. "We are arrived," she called out to her passengers; at once Tulsi came out of the rear of the tent and did a series of cartwheels and somersaults for the children watching. "Have the foreigner get to work on the hooves before we do anything else," Djerat ordered, cutting Tulsi's demonstration short.
"That I will," said Tulsi, and opened the rear flap for Sanat Ji Mani. "She wants the hooves done. There's just one more mule to do, is there not?"
"I heard her; there is just the one mule remaining," Sanat Ji Mani said as he climbed out of the wagon, still feeling somewhat queasy from their passage through the river. He did his best to walk evenly, but could not. "I wish I did not draw attention in this way," he remarked to Tulsi, nodding at his right foot.
"It is a dreadful thing," she said sympathetically.
"More importantly, it is easily noticed and recalled. If Timur-i sends soldiers after us, they need only say a foreigner with a stirrup on his foot and they will learn where we have been." He put his hands on his farrier's tools. "These are not very useful as weapons." This was not entirely true: he had seen nippers and rasps used as instruments of torture, but that did not recommend them to him.
"No. We have no bows and arrows, no shimtares." Tulsi shook her head. "I can fight with a staff if I must."
"Hardly enough against Timur-i's soldiers, if it comes to that," said Sanat Ji Mani, thinking back to the beautiful sword Saito Masashige had given him at Chui-Cho fortress almost two hundred years ago. How relieved he would be to have that weapon with him now; it would be as welcome as a chest of his native earth, but the sword was in his homeland, at the remote stronghold he maintained there for his occasional use. He consoled himself with the realization that Timur-i would surely have confiscated the katana had he had the opportunity,
and so it would not be available to him now in any case. He would have to improvise a weapon, if the need for one arose. "We will have to think of something."
"Do you suppose Timur-i is searching for us?" Tulsi asked uneasily, lowering her voice still more so they could not be overheard.
"I am not sure," Sanat Ji Mani admitted. "He may wish to make an example of us, or he may not consider us worth the effort."
"Then you think we are safe?" Tulsi stared at him, her grey-green eyes wide.
"No. I do not think that," he answered drily. "Neither do you."
She ducked her head. "No." They had reached the front of the wagon, and Tulsi patted the rump of the nearest mule. "Are you going to unhitch them?"
"It would make my work easier, but I may not, just in case we may wish to depart quickly," Sanat Ji Mani said, smiling at the children who stood around them. "Given Djerat's apprehension, I am not sure I want to have the team separated from the wagon. I can take care of the mule without unhitching him."
"I understand," said Tulsi with a nod. "I will entertain these folk, and you can finish your work here in the shade. You do not want that burn to worsen."
Sanat Ji Mani gave her a thoughtful look before going to the one mule still needing his hooves tended to; the sunlight was enervating, but with the mat of fronds to provide shade, he was not so exhausted as he feared he would be; at mid-day it would be another matter, for the sun's intensity would make the shade less a protection than it was now. He laid his arm along the last mule's back and scratched the animal high on the withers; the mule craned his neck, his upper lip pushed forward in ecstacy as Sanat Ji Mani's fingers worked their magic. When the mule was at ease, Sanat Ji Mani bent and lifted the on-side front foot. "This will not take long," he said, using the nippers to trim away the edge of the hoof; the mule swung around and nudged Sanat Ji Mani in the hip, as if urging him to get on with it. "I will, I will," Sanat Ji Mani said to the mule as he continued to ply the nippers.
"You say you will not be long: not too long, I trust?" Djerat asked as she came up to him. "You must be hungry."
"Do not wait for me," Sanat Ji Mani said. "I will take nourishment later, when we are truly safe."
"Then you fear we may be in danger," she said, not quite accusing him.
"I think it is possible," he said, trading the nippers for his rasp.
"Do you suppose they mean us harm?" Djerat asked, glancing at the children.
"I do not know what they mean us," Sanat Ji Mani replied. "That is why I am careful."
The old man who had offered them village hospitality came up to Djerat. "Who are you? Where are you going?"
Before Sanat Ji Mani could speak, Djerat said, "
I
am Djerat.
I
am going to Lahore and Kabul." She gave Sanat Ji Mani a challenging look.
Tulsi was walking on her hands to the delight of the children; one or two of them tried to do the same and toppled, laughing, into the dirt. Tulsi dropped her feet down so that they almost touched her head.
"Is she a holy woman?" the old man asked as he watched Tulsi perform.
"What? She holy?" Djerat laughed. "No. She is a… an acrobat, a tumbler. She does these things for amusement, not for religion."
The old man frowned, the good-will going out of his face. "So," he said measuringly.
Sanat Ji Mani moved on to the on-side rear hoof, all the while keeping a covert watch on Tulsi Kil. The mule fussed at having his hoof lifted, but finally brought it up, muscles tight, while Sanat Ji Mani went to work with the nippers again.
"What about water?" Djerat said to the old man. "We are thirsty."
"There is water, in those skins hanging in the door. They are filled from our well, not the river." The old man smiled proudly. "Our well is sweet."
"I am sure it is," said Djerat, adding, "How much to buy a skin of water?"
The old man frowned. "A goat-skin contains a lot of water. I would want a gold coin." This price was outrageous and both the old man and Djerat knew it.
"A silver coin— nothing more," said Djerat. "The river might not be so sweet as your well, but its water is abundant and we may drink from it for nothing more than a prayer."
"Then do so. We will keep our skins." He contemplated Djerat. "Your food will cost you silver coins."
Djerat was about to give him a sharp answer when Sanat Ji Mani spoke up. "I have gold," he said, reaching into the wallet that hung from his belt. He took out a small coin with the Sultan's seal upon it; he tossed it to the old man. "That should buy food for us and for our animals and leave enough for a skin of well-water."
The old man snatched the coin out of the air and bit it. Satisfied, he thrust it into the top of his leather waist-band. "This will do." He clapped his hands. "Food for our visitors. Now!"
"Why did you do that?" Djerat asked Sanat Ji Mani in an undervoice. "Now he knows we have gold."
"He knows I have gold," Sanat Ji Mani corrected her and went on trimming the mule's hooves.
"You have put us in danger, for they will assume if you are willing to give up so much, you have much more to give," Djerat hissed, glancing at Tulsi who was busy performing feats of contortion for the villagers who had gathered to watch her. "They will want to rob us, perhaps imprison us for ransom."
"Perhaps," Sanat Ji Mani said, not wanting to argue with her. "But as it turns out, there are more coins in my medicinal supply bag; I took a few out last night for just such a circumstance as this— oh, not a fortune, but enough to provide for our needs for some time if we are not reckless with spending; these people will probably not want anything more but another coin, which I shall give them. They will treat us well in the hope of getting more, and you may eat without worry. When you are done, we must decide if we are traveling north or east."
"I am traveling north. Do not think to alter that. I am taking my wagon and my mules back across the river and I am going to find Timur-i's army. You may come with me, or you may leave, but I will not change my mind about where I am bound, whether or not I have any of your coins to aid me. I will not be bought off by you." She
folded her arms. "Also: I will not let you take Tulsi with you. She will not be safe, traveling with the likes of you."
There was a note in her tone that caught Sanat Ji Mani's attention. "How do you mean— the likes of me?"
"I know you have done more to my mules than groom them and tend to their feet. You have gone to them in the dark of night and leaned against their necks. I have found marks there, and a little blood, in the morning. Tulsi Kil is no mule. You will not have her to yourself. I will see to it." There was an expression of irate triumph in her bright little eyes.
Sanat Ji Mani met her furious gaze steadily. "Your animals have taken no harm from me and neither will Tulsi Kil if she is willing to travel with me."
"So you say!" Djerat swung away as two men emerged from the house behind the arbor with trays of fruit, spiced lentils, and lamb with onions in yoghurt. "You finish your work."
"I will," said Sanat Ji Mani, and bent over the mule's off-side rear hoof.
"Tulsi! Come! There is food!" Djerat went to sit on one of the low benches under the frond-mat, leaving room for the trays to be placed before her; she patted the stool beside her. "Come, girl. You must eat!"
Tulsi left off her performing and came over to the arbor; she was panting a little from her exertions and there was a sheen of sweat on her face. "This looks most satisfactory," she said, looking over at Sanat Ji Mani. "Are you not joining us?"
"I am not yet finished with trimming this mule's hooves," he said, aware it was not quite an answer. "Have what you want. I will fend for myself."
"Yes," said the old man, sitting down near them. "Have what you want. If it is not enough, you can always buy more." His smile showed missing teeth and happy avarice.
"You've had all the money you will get from us," said Djerat as Tulsi sat down on another low stool. "What about something to drink?"
"We have mango pulp with fermented goats' milk," said the old man proudly, aware that this was a luxury in such a village as his.
"I'll have some," Djerat declared, thumping her hand on her thigh. "For this woman, too. Bring each of us a large cup of it."
The old man clapped his hands together and issued more commands. "You will have it. What of the foreign man?"
"Nothing for him until his work is done," said Djerat with a satisfied smirk. "He will let you know what he wants." Her glance in Sanat Ji Mani's direction was sly, insinuating many things.
"It is strange for a woman to have charge of a man not her slave," said the old man. "How does it come about?"
"Timur-i put him in my care," Djerat said, very nearly boasting.
The old man drew back, shocked. "He is a slave of Timur-i Lenkh?" Fear raised the pitch of his voice almost five notes. "You brought Timur-i Lenkh's slave here?"
"He is not a slave," Tulsi said. "He was captured at Delhi when the city fell. Sanat Ji Mani is a healer, and Timur-i wanted his skills."
Djerat glowered at her. "Because, as you see, he cannot endure the sun, he has traveled in my wagon for protection." She realized the old man was still unconvinced. "Timur-i had a white-skinned brother, who died because of the sun. He has shown this foreigner favor because of his brother, I think."
The old man nodded, somewhat mollified. "I had heard that about the brother; they say his eyes were red. I have also heard that Timur-i has been supplanted by his rival and is now left to wander the roads a beggar."
"I have heard that, too," said Djerat, sensing that they were once again on easy footing. "But I saw Timur-i for myself, six days ago, riding his mouse-colored horse and leading his army. No one had usurped his place."
"Indeed," said the old man. "Here are your cups. Enjoy your drink." He moved away from the arbor, saying as he went. "It is not fitting that I stay with women alone. You are not my wives."
Djerat called out her thanks and took her cup from the man who proffered it. "Very good," she told him by way of dismissal.
From his place with the mules, Sanat Ji Mani watched the two women eat; he realized this might be his last morning in their company, that from this place their journeys would lead them in different directions. For just an instant, he felt despair and a loneliness so in
