"A strange question for you to ask," said Hasin Dahele. "You, of all men, should know that war brings with it riches and land. We have not made our frontiers firm, and it is time we did. While we are about it, we should expand our frontiers and make borders of them."
"I know that many wars begin with such ambitions. I have rarely seen any of them prove to be worth the price they demand." Sanat Ji Mani thought back to stands against Hittites, against Babylonians, against Egyptians, against Ethiopians, against Boetians, against Persians, against Scythians, against Germans, against Britons, against Huns, against the marauders outside Baghdad, against the Turks, against the Mongols of Jenghiz Khan… there had been so many battles— more than he could easily remember— and all of them left misery for both sides in their wakes; it hardly mattered which had been the aggressors and which had been encroached upon, the results were always the same: broken bodies and ravaged land, slain or enslaved people, ruined cities, obliterated towns and villages, livestock slaughtered, devastated crops, men maimed, famine and disease everywhere.
"You know that frontiers do not become borders if they are not fought for," said Vayu Ede with such emphasis that Sanat Ji Mani was shaken out of his repellant reverie.
"I know that is what everyone believes until they go to war," said Sanat Ji Mani.
Hasin Dahele laughed aloud. "Very clever, Sanat Ji Mani. You have wit, and you have much knowledge." He looked about him, pride in every sinew of his body. "I know this is an enviable force, one that will do much to bring land and glory to Beragar."
"I hope you are not too much disappointed by your victories," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"How can a victory disappoint?" Vayu Ede asked, his expression darkening.
"A victory that loses friends and animals and matériel can be so costly that failure would have been preferable. The conquest you seek always takes a toll of the triumphant as well as the vanquished." He held up his hand. "I know you do not want to believe this, but I must tell you I have seen it before, many times, and I know in war you must be prepared for the high price of victory." He nodded toward the soldiers on review. "You, O Rajput, have made excellent preparations, but you are not prepared." His right foot was aching but he did not shift his stance.
"How can you say this to me?" Hasin Dahele demanded, his face darkening. "You see what my army is, how my men are—"
"You have asked me to advise you. I am doing my best to comply with your order," said Sanat Ji Mani, making no excuse for his tone or his interruption.
"You speak as if you have lost battles," said Vayu Ede, the observation critical. "You have not enjoyed the sapidity of victory."
"If I have not, it is only because I have found little to savor in victory," Sanat Ji Mani said bluntly. "I wish I could spare the Rajput the pain and defeat that comes with war, no matter how unvanquished he may be."
Hasin Dahele nodded. "You want me to understand that the Gods will not bestow Their favor without requiring sacrifice. I understand that." The sun was almost down and the sun came directly from the side, shining like molten brass, making long, spiked shadows on the marshaling yard, and throwing them against the far wall, so that an army of dark ghosts also seemed to be passing the Rajput on parade.
"Then content yourself with a show of force and do not undertake a campaign," Sanat Ji Mani urged him, knowing it was useless to argue with him.
"I will not let others claim what is mine to hold," said Hasin Dahele in a hard voice. "I am prepared to lose some of my men, some of my horses, some of my elephants, and some of all our supplies. I know that such losses are part of campaigning. I am aware that some of the people will suffer, and that many will be deprived of home and possessions due to necessity. It is what war demands. Any man fighting
must be prepared for such contingencies. But I will have what is fated to be mine. You must comprehend why I must do this."
"I know you see a necessity now that may not exist," said Sanat Ji Mani, aware that he was not persuading the Rajput of anything.
"You do not know Beragar. You are thinking in terms that do not apply in this place." He gestured Sanat Ji Mani to silence and stared straight ahead at his companies of spearmen who were riding past him, their curved shields on their left arms, their spears in long sheaths slung on the right sides of their saddles. Next came lancers, with high-canteled saddles to help support the riders, so that a thrust with their weapons would not unseat them. Each of them was equipped with three lances and oblong shields that could be swung sideways to protect the flanks of their horses. Four companies of lancers went by, then came a small company of messengers with few weapons, their leather armor sewn with brass plates, and their horses protected by more brass-sewn leather. Finally, eight companies of light cavalry, with shimtares and mail armor, passed in review; their mail made a pleasant ringing to accompany the sounds of their horses hooves.
At last, Hasin Dahele spoke again. "So you see," he exclaimed as if continuing their conversation without interruption, "there are enough men, they have good weapons, they are ready to go forth— in fact, they are eager."
"Because they have not yet fought," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"After we make the Godavari our border, they will be ready to take on my campaign. You will come with me and advise me." He bent down and tapped Sanat Ji Mani on the head. "You are my counselor for war, Sanat Ji Mani." The sun dipped below the mountains and only the butter-colored glow remained in the western sky; all over the marshaling yard torches and braziers were lit, replacing the brilliance of sunset with pools of shifting brightness, giving the night a greater darkness by contrast.
Sanat Ji Mani turned to the Rajput, shocked. "I am a foreigner. I am not one of your people. How can you entrust this position to me?"
Again Hasin Dahele laughed. "It is fated to be so. Therefore it is so. You will advise me, and from your wise counsel I will achieve the world. Surely you know this must happen." He touched his mount
with his heels and the horse moved forward, mincing toward the front stable. "Come with me, my counselor."
Sanat Ji Mani complied, staying even with the horse's shoulder. He had little to say until they reached the stable, and then he held the Rajput's horse's bridle while Hasin Dahele dismounted and handed his mount over to three stable-slaves; all around them soldiers were turning their animals over to the grooms and stable-hands who cared for the horses. "Are you taking any of your stable-slaves on campaign?"
Hasin Dahele chuckled. "They are slaves of the palace. Why should they go with us when they would only slow us down?"
"Then why do your soldiers not tend their own mounts?" Sanat Ji Mani asked, keeping his voice level. "On campaign, the horses will need as much care as your men, and without slaves to do it, you may find it is impossible to keep all your horses sound."
"An interesting point," Hasin Dahele conceded as he started out of the stable, walking toward Vayu Ede, who waited at the side entrance to the palace. "I will consider it."
"You will need farriers, too," Sanat Ji Mani went on. "One for every twenty horses at least, or you will not be able to keep your men mounted."
"One for every twenty horses is a great many farriers," said Hasin Dahele. "Why should I have so many? There are villages along our path of march who will tend to any of the horses that may need it."
Sanat Ji Mani shrugged. "If you wish to entrust your horses to farriers whose loyalty is untested and unknown, what is it to me?"
Hasin Dahele stopped still. "How do you mean?"
"Only that if I were your enemy, and I knew you were relying on farriers not of your own army, I would send in my men to harm your horses under the guise of caring for them." Sanat Ji Mani offered Hasin Dahele the blandest of smiles. "Think of all the harm I could do without risking a single soldier. A whole company might be disabled before anyone was aware of what was happening."
This took Hasin Dahele aback. "I take your point," he said as he resumed walking. "With your experience, you must have had many occasions to see this happen."
"I do not know why you should think I have any particular experience, but any sensible commander will always seek ways to damage
the enemy without inflicting hurt on his own men. If you had been attacked, I would suppose you would do this to turn the advantage to your favor." Sanat Ji Mani could not rid himself of the uneasy sensation he had had for many days— that the Rajput had made up his mind about this proposed war, and that included Sanat Ji Mani's role in it, and that the Rajput had assumed Sanat Ji Mani's complicity in his plans.
"You are a most useful counselor, as I knew you would be," said Hasin Dahele. "Very well. I will consider more farriers. And perhaps a few stable-slaves, too, so the horses will not be exposed to our enemies except in battle."
"You would do well to carry as much of your feed as you can; your enemies will not be above supplying blighted hay to you, or grain with rot, or burning fields that would otherwise go to feed your animals. If your horses do not eat wholesome things, they will sicken, many will die, and you will not be able to put many men into the field." Sanat Ji Mani recalled how such misfortune had stopped the advance of the Avars, nine hundred years before. Then it had been a happenstance of hard weather, but their opponents quickly learned from what nature had done and enlarged upon it, with disastrous results to the Avars.
"You are loading my army with so many things," Hasin Dahele complained, continuing onward. He pointed to Vayu Ede as he came up to the poet. "This man's visions have guided me this far; now you will add your knowledge to his vision. It will bring glory to all of us; you will see it yourselves."
Vayu Ede's features all but glowed with satisfaction. "You will do what Timur-i could not accomplish. You will be the Ruler of the World." His use of the titulary form was sincere, much more than flattery.
Hasin Dahele grinned. "I long for that time," he said. "If the Gods have marked me for this, I will comply with Their mandate." He said this without a trace of humility, but in the manner of a man accepting a task to be done.
"And you will be remembered into long ages to come. Timur-i has shown the way to greatness," Vayu Ede went on, nodding in Sanat Ji Mani's direction. "You will achieve greatness beyond any known before. The Gods have shown me."
"The Gods are epic warriors; They know battles that make our most ambitious seem puny," said Hasin Dahele, and glanced at Sanat Ji Mani. "I have much to fulfill. You will assist me to do this great work, for so it is written."
Sanat Ji Mani listened with a cold sensation gathering in his chest; he knew he could say nothing that would deter Hasin Dahele from entering upon this catastrophic course: the Rajput believed the gods required it of him, and that he was therefore destined to conquer. This was troubling, and all the more so because Vayu Ede was feeding Hasin Dahele prophesies that encouraged war and subjugation. He tried to summon up a few sensible words to persuade the Rajput to reconsider his campaign; all he could say was, "You should be wary of too much favor from your gods: they often play cruel jokes on those they single out."
Vayu Ede chuckled. "As many others have learned." He folded his hands. "The Gods have shown me what is to come. I am only Their instrument, as is the Rajput. All is Their Will."
"Then it would be wise of you not to depend overmuch on their beneficence," said Sanat Ji Mani.
The Rajput quickened his pace as he entered the palace. "You will be given provisions for the campaign. You have only to tell Vayu Ede what you require and it will be yours. You may choose your mount from among my personal horses. You will ride with me in the morning; I will order an umbrella made to provide you shade on campaign so your skin will not blister and burn." He looked directly at Sanat Ji Mani. "I know the sun is harsh, and that you, more than many, suffer on its account."
A frown flickered over Sanat Ji Mani's face and was gone. "You are most kind, but I hardly deserve such favor. I am a foreigner, and an exile. I have nothing to offer you beyond a little prudence gleaned during my travels."
"You are my promised advisor. I will see that you are always able to advise me," said the Rajput in a manner that stopped all protest.
"If I fail you, what then?" Sanat Ji Mani spoke curtly.
"You will not fail me; the Gods have shown it." For punctuation, the Rajput slapped at the jeweled hilt of his sword. "Tend to it, Vayu Ede."
Vayu Ede motioned to Sanat Ji Mani. "I will come to your room directly and you may present me with all the things you will require."
"And my companion?" Sanat Ji Mani asked, fearing for Tulsi's safety.
"She will remain here, where she will be guarded for you," said Vayu Ede. "A slave will be assigned to care for her, and you may be certain she will be protected from harm."
"I have arranged it already," said Hasin Dahele, settling the matter. "She will continue to be my honored guest. You need not worry on her account."
