"Here. We will have none of that." The accent of the man who spoke was rough and his attitude surly.
"That is my warehouse," said Sanat Ji Mani mildly, indicating his eclipse pectoral and the painted symbol on the side.
"So you say," growled the second man, hefting his truncheon. "We want no thieves here."
"Neither do I," said Sanat Ji Mani. "If you are worried, would you take me to the factor. You may watch me at every step."
"Do you think—" The first began, only to be interrupted by the second.
"If we go with him both ways, and watch him, we can be sure he does nothing." He ducked his head, pleased with his cleverness.
"That we can." The first contemplated the plan and accepted it. "Yes. It will do."
"Have you had many thieves here?" Sanat Ji Mani asked as he resumed his progress toward the door to the warehouse.
"Since the fighting, yes. We have been kept busy," said the second man. "Ever since mid-summer, you would be surprised."
A sudden flare of hope went through Sanat Ji Mani. "And is this pier always guarded?"
"Day and night," the second man said. "Has been for months."
Sanat Ji Mani held up his walking stick, turning it so that the last afternoon sun struck the face he had carved. "Would either of you have seen this woman?"
The first man laughed. "What woman would come here?" He barely glanced at the carving.
The second man took the time to look at the portrait. "No. No one has come here with that face. A foreigner like that, we would notice, and remember."
They had reached the door to the warehouse; Sanat Ji Mani halted, saying to the two men. "Thank you. I shall not be long."
"We will watch for that woman, if you like," the second man volunteered.
Sanat Ji Mani gave a single nod, although he knew it would prove useless. He would search for her, but knew with a conviction almost as strong as the blood-bond itself, that he would never find her; Tulsi Kil had done what she had told him she wanted to do, back in the Rajput's palace in Devapur— she had vanished. "I will be grateful," he said, then scratched at the door before going inside.
* * *
Text of an account presented to Timur-i Lenkh in Samarkand.
* * *
To the favored of Allah, the Lord of the World, the Conqueror Timur-i Lenkh, the Triumphant, this requested information is being submitted in full submission and devotion to your Will; May Allah give you long life and a thousand sons:
Of the captives we took from Delhi, we have sold more than a thousand of them— 1,268 to give the exact number— as was your order, the gold from which has been used to purchase supplies and food for your army. This money was sufficient to provide enough money to
have three measures of gold still remaining, and set aside for the purpose of purchasing food and supplies. Here in Samarkand, your most wonderful city, we are amply cared for and there is no need to draw on this money, so we have not done so; it is kept toward our next campaign.
Of those remaining with the army, most are Muslims and have made themselves part of your support forces for the good of our True Faith. Among these 427, 118 have been executed for improper acts over the last half-year, and their flayed skins left out as a warning to others. Of the 309 left, all but six are fully assigned within the army, most to the cooks and maintenance crews. They have shown themselves loyal and deserve your good opinion.
The remaining six may give you some concern; to begin with, none of them are Muslims, and their lack of religion is troublesome:
Abhu the metalworker has been willing to work in the smithy along with our own men, and has not let his adherence to false gods interfere with his labors. For now I would recommend keeping him where he is and taking care to inspect his work to be certain he is not compromising the quality of our weapons.
Iksander Mawan, the eunuch, has been most useful in keeping records for us; he reads several tongues and that is a useful thing. While I have reservations about him, I would recommend keeping him at his books for a while, although I do think it would be best to leave him here in Samarkand rather than take him on campaign; he is clever enough and strong enough to be able to flee, which I fear he may do if given the opportunity. The wound to his head has fully healed, and it would be foolish to rely on his injury to keep him docile.
The soldier, Mutaz Shikhara, has been unreliable of late, filled with dark thoughts and cast into lethargy; he is not a good man to send to troops or into battle. Let him be given a simple task that gives him no weapons, and perhaps he will cease to dwell in the darkness of his losses; if he does not, then perhaps he should be sold. Since he has done nothing against you or your rule, execution may not be called for, but certainly he will never be a soldier again.
Nahar Erai, the shirt-maker, is a most useful fellow; he is willing to ply his trade for as long as he is given meat and drink; he is not loyal, but neither is he disloyal. He wishes only to earn his living, and
I see no harm in him, as well as a great deal of use. So long as his fingers are nimble and his eyes do not dim, I would recommend keeping him with the army. He poses no danger to anyone, including himself.
Josha Dar is a puzzle, but a useful one. He has provided me with much useful information, all of which has been proven correct, and that inclines me to favor keeping him. But I cannot help being uneasy about him; there is something in his eyes that makes me question the reasons for his cooperation, and for that reason alone, I want to take time to observe him before giving a final recommendation to you regarding him. It may be that I am worried about nothing, but when a man is willing to betray his own people without reservation but will not pledge his dedication to a new master, I am not sanguine about him. For the time being, he is useful, but I fear he would make himself useful in the same way to anyone who would pay him, or keep him. Let me withhold my final decision regarding him for another half-year.
Timin Yamut, the leather-worker, has been growing sickly; he wheezes when he walks and his feet swell often. He has lost strength and his appetite is failing. The physicians tell me that he will not live long, and so there is no reason to recommend anything regarding him; his fate, as is the fate of everyone, is in the hands of Allah.
This is the whole of my report, and I present it to you with all humility. May it aid your deliberations, and may you grow increasingly wise from your contemplations.
Tolui Sati
Monitor of the Captives
At Samarkand on the Balance of Day and Night Toward Winter
EPILOGUE
Text of a letter from Avasa Dani to Sanat Ji Mani, written and received at Alexandria in June, 1401.
* * *
No, Sanat Ji Mani, I cannot see that any good would be served by our meeting again. I know your invitation was kindly meant, and I have received it in that spirit, but I am content with the life I have now, a life I know you have given me, and I do not believe that there is any purpose to our resuming our friendship now that I am of your blood.
It is gratifying to know your business with Rustam Iniattir and his House has done so well. I am pleased that you were able to gain something after your great losses at Delhi, and I thank you for the funds that success has brought to me. It is most generous of you to set aside five percent of your profits for my use. In time I hope I will have no need of them, but in case that does not happen as soon as I anticipate, let me express my gratitude not only for the money, but your understanding.
I was saddened to learn of your hardships after the destruction of Delhi; but, as you said yourself, many suffered far worse than you did, and you returned to this place to a thriving business, which is more than most were able to do. From what little Rogerian has told me, you have endured many adversities in the past and may do so
again, so while I am distressed to know that you had difficulties, you are doubtless capable of dealing with all that is demanded of you. I will take you as an admirable example in times to come.
As long as the Blood-Bond tells me you still live, I will not fret on your behalf. Knowing that you are about the world is a comfort in itself, but as my life as a breathing woman is over, so is all but the Bond with you. While I know I owe you more than I will ever be able to repay, if you would continue your kindness to me, leave me alone
.
Avasa Dani
