Rajput Hasin Dahele sat on a showy dark-bay with a long head and narrow chest, horse and rider gaudily arrayed in gold and jewels, both of them far more suited to ceremony than battle. Even the curved shimtare that hung from the Rajput's fringed belt was designed for display rather than use, having a dozen jewels in its quillons and a pearl in the hilt. Before him rode his mounted troops, all in fine clothes with a full complement of weapons: bows, quivers filled with arrows, lances, shimtares, spears, and rings of caltrops. The setting sun blazed on their shining brass and brilliant silks, adding its own gilding to their already flamboyant display. The smell of leather and horses was strong on the still, warm air.

"What do you think, Sanat Ji Mani?" asked the Rajput of the man standing beside his horse. "Are they not formidable."

"They are quite splendid," said Sanat Ji Mani, not quite answering the question. He had concealed his disappointment at this full review readily enough, for there were too many eyes on him for him to do otherwise.

"Tomorrow evening, we shall see the elephants in review, along with asses and wagons for provisions, and then I will announce my plans." Hasin Dahele smiled broadly, giving his attention to Vayu Ede, who sat on his mule on the side opposite Sanat Ji Mani. "You see? They are the finest army ever assembled."

"They are most remarkable," said Vayu Ede, his expression oddly hungry as he watched the troops clatter by.

"I know this is going to be a most worthwhile venture. Once we have secured the north as far as the Godavari, we will be able to establish fortresses to further the larger campaign; without the fortresses, we will not be capable of holding onto any territory we seize. I have already made plans to garrison the fortress with men skilled in using defensive weapons, so that I may keep my others ready to go forth on my orders." His smile widened. "What do you think of my planning, Sanat Ji Mani?"

"I think that if you must go to war, preparation is crucial." He paused. "But no matter how you plan, no campaign will go as you expect, and you will never achieve your goals in the manner you planned."

"Sensible words," said Hasin Dahele, his smile becoming a smirk. "I thank you for giving me the benefit of your experience."

"More observation than experience," said Sanat Ji Mani, his brows arched to show his degree of skepticism.

Hasin Dahele laughed. "You would say that, would you not?" He gestured to a company of spearmen. "I am going to be sure each of them has fifteen spears to carry. Do you think that is sufficient?"

Sanat Ji Mani shrugged. "It may be, but that will depend upon the battles, and they are unpredictable."

"But fifteen is a prudent number, is it not?" Hasin Dahele persisted.

"Better than ten, and less cumbersome than twenty," Sanat Ji Mani replied, trying to take his tone from the Rajput.

"My notion exactly," Hasin Dahele exclaimed. "I knew I would do well to ask you."

Vayu Ede regarded Sanat Ji Mani with an air of satisfaction. "You are prepared to say that this army is ready for war?"

Sanat Ji Mani shrugged. "I have no knowledge of your foes, their armies, their defenses, their preparedness, their strength, or any other aspect, and so I can only say that this army is well-equipped; if it is also well-supported, then, if there is to be war, they are as ready as any army is." He looked up at the Rajput. "Your land is in good heart, your people are not deprived of their holdings and their families. You have sought to be a wise leader. Why do you want to go to war?"

"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 materiel 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 forthin 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."

"She does not know your language," Sanat Ji Mani persisted. "You make a mute of her if you will not allow her to travel with me."

"She will be cared for," said the Rajput with finality. "If you should die on campaign, she will be kept as part of my household until her death. Surely you cannot expect more?"

Sanat Ji Mani bowed over his hands. "I am grateful, but I ask you to reconsider. She and I have traveled far together."

"She is to stay here, Sanat Ji Mani. That is the end of it." The Rajput turned on his heel and strode away toward his private quarters.

"Be relieved, foreigner," said Vayu Ede. "If the Rajput did not hold you in high regard, your companion would not be treated so well."

Knowing that Tulsi would not see it this way, Sanat Ji Mani said, "I am sure the Rajput does her and me honor."

"As well he might," said Vayu Ede with another of his cryptic smiles. "You have not yet shown yourself, and that is to be expected; you do not know whether the Rajput is worthy of such revelation. I have told him that you will know when he is ready to be proclaimed. After you see the elephants and you accompany the army on their first enterprise, you will know that he is a righteous heir."

"No doubt his father thought so while he lived," said Sanat Ji Mani, hoping to discover what Vayu Ede meant.

"His father died eleven years ago, taken by the Blood Fever. Many died then." Vayu Ede bowed to Sanat Ji Mani.

"It is always hard to lose a father," said Sanat Ji Mani, preparing to leave the old man and go to his own quarters; already he was anticipating Tulsi's outrage when he informed her of the Rajput's plans.

"It would have been harder still for Hasin Dahele's father to lose a son," said Vayu Ede. "The Rajput's grandfather lived many years and ruled wisely; his son was not so fortunate."

"How old was the Rajput's grandfather when he died?" Sanat Ji Mani wondered what Vayu Ede intended in telling him these things.

"He was fifty-six, older than I am by almost a decade. So his son had only three years to reign before Hasin Dahele came to rule." Vayu Ede pulled at one strand of his long, white hair. "The grandfather is remembered, the grandson will be remembered, the father is forgotten."

Sanat Ji Mani nodded to show he had heard. "Let us hope Hasin Dahele will rule many years and be remembered with pride."

"May it be so," said Vayu Ede, apparently satisfied with Sanat Ji Mani's remark. "Go make ready. I will come to your quarters when I have finished my evening meditation."

Accepting this dismissal readily, Sanat Ji Mani made his way along the corridors to the room he shared with Tulsi; as he walked, he pondered, and arrived at the door to the room with nothing resolved. He scratched at the door. "Tulsi."

She admitted him at once, her smile fading as she caught sight of his face. "What has happened?"

"The Rajput has ordered me to go with him on campaign," Sanat Ji Mani began.

"When?" She slammed the door.

"In a matter of days," he answered. "It has all been arranged."

"Then we can use that for our escape," she said, but without certainty.

"It would be possible, if the Rajput would agree to allowing you to come." He spoke as gently as he could. "I do not want to leave you here alone."

Tulsi took a step back. "Allow me to come?" She glared at him. "You mean I am to remain here?"

"Unless I can persuade him to change his mind," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"I am to be a hostage; is that not the way of it," she said. "The Rajput has decided that I will be a hostage."

"That is what I think," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I will try to speak to him, to change his mind, but I doubt-"

"How soon do you have to go?" she interrupted.

"Tomorrow there is another review, and then he intends a beginning thrust to secure all the land from here north to the Na-"

"-manda," she finished for him. "So soon."

"He believes his gods have chosen him to be the conqueror of the world," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I gather Vayu Ede has had visions to that effect, and so the Rajput is eager to fulfill this grandiose dream."

"You sound disgusted," said Tulsi.

"That is the least of it," said Sanat Ji Mani, going to sit on the edge of the bed. "For some reason, both of them are convinced that I must be part of the venture."

"Then they are fools, both of them," said Tulsi, her voice catching in her throat. "How can you go with the army, in daylight? What will become of you?"

"The Rajput is ordering an umbrella made for me, to keep the sun off me," said Sanat Ji Mani sardonically. "He is aware that I burn in the sun."

"Oh, very good," Tulsi approved with heavy sarcasm. "You are provided an umbrella, and this is to help you? He gives his foes something to shoot at; the umbrella is large. The bowmen will aim at it. A good diversion." She flung up her hands. "You will be in pain and a target. What other honors does he plan for you?"

Sanat Ji Mani rose and went to her, standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "I will manage, Tulsi. I have endured worse."

She shook him off. "Why are you not refusing? Why do you not tell him no?"

"Because I am afraid of what he might do," Sanat Ji Mani admitted.

"And so you let him do this?" She swung around to confront him. "You let him separate us to appease him?"

With a sigh Sanat Ji Mani dropped his hands. "I had not expected this. I did not know he planned that I should go on campaign with him. If I had thought he had such intentions, I would have approached the matter differently from the beginning. The whole plan is repugnant to me, in large part because I will not be with you. You say you are a hostage: I agree. I wish I did not. If I could spare you this, I would, but I cannot, not without chancing something far worse." He waited for her to speak; when she remained silent, her shoulders stiff, and her head held at a defiant angle, he went on. "I admit it has been pleasant to live in comfort, and because of that I may not have assessed our danger for what it was. I still do not know why Hasin Dahele thinks his gods have appointed me to advise him. But he has determined that this is the case, apparently since we arrived here. I do not know that we could have avoided this at the first. Tulsi, I apologize for bringing you into this, and I give you my Word I will do my utmost to get you out."

"Do you think you can?" Her challenge stung.

"I know I will do all that I can to bring it about," he said.

She stared into his eyes, her face set. "Then you will go with him."

"I think I must. Perhaps if I do not endure the rigors of the maneuvers he has planned, he will not insist I remain with him." Sanat Ji Mani looked away from her toward the window. "I can probably get you out of the palace before I go tomorrow, but I cannot guarantee that you will not be hunted if I do, nor can I be certain of what may happen to you if you are caught." He turned toward her again.

"I have been poisoned here," she reminded him. "How am I to feel safe?"

"I have no answer for you," he admitted. "But if you allow me to speak to the Rajput again, then something may-"

She waved him to silence. "No. It is probably best that we obey him for now. I know how Timur-i's soldiers behaved to run-away captives and I would rather drown in urine than have that happen to me." Folding her arms, she said, "You will have to go tomorrow without sustenance. I will not lie with you tonight."

"I would not want you to, not with so much disruption around us," he told her. "You have enough to dwell upon without that."

She studied him intently. "Are you being compassionate or am I unacceptable in my current state of mind?"

"Do you want to open your soul to me just now?" Sanat Ji Mani asked kindly.

"No." She glared at him.

"Then you have answered your own question. Tulsi Kil, I do not go where I am unwelcome; you should know this by now." He touched her arm lightly.

"I know," she said, and began to weep. "And I am torn. I want two things and cannot have both. Will I curse myself for refusing what I may decide I want, or do I prefer to stay as I am, and never change to one of your blood? Which shall I do? What will be the right answer for me? Which will I regret the most if I do not do it?" She took a step back from him, dashing tears from her eyes with the flat of her hands. "You: say nothing." It was a command. "Do not speak to me. This is for me to decide, not you."

Sanat Ji Mani nodded, feeling her ambivalence as if it were a solid presence in the room. He stood still, knowing he could not comfort her, and chagrined that he could not.

Finally she composed herself, coming up to him, her demeanor cool. "Tomorrow night, I will know what I want of you," she said, and turned away before he responded.

Text of a letter from Lonpah ST'amlontohr, merchant of T'u-Bo-T'eh, to Azizi Iniattir of Sirpur, carried by caravan leader, written in Tibetean, Hindi, Gond, and Sanscrit.

To the most well-reputed Azizi Iniattir, the greetings of Lonpah ST'amlontohr, merchant of Lhasa; my clerk has sworn to write this in four tongues in the hope that you yourself will be able to read one of them, or will have a clerk, as I have, who can read one of the tongues here.

Now that the first caravans of spring are departing, I have ordered this be prepared for you, as the merchant most likely to have interest in this proposition, and the wherewithal to act upon what I am going to suggest to you.

I have recently purchased some textiles from a merchant who had them from one of your caravans. The textiles are of excellent quality and have provided me with quick profit, which is why I have taken it upon myself to write to you. I will give this to my caravan leader with instructions that he pass it to one of your caravan leaders to bring to you, in the hope that I might encourage you to consider sending a caravan to T'u-Bo-T'eh with the textiles so that both of us may enjoy a higher profit and the direct access to the markets each of us represents.

For my part, I can offer several sorts of goods, including religious scrolls that are much admired in the lowlands. Also, there are highquality gems that I can secure for the right price, and these will be welcome in any market. I have access to skins, as well, particularly the mountain leopard, bears, and several kinds of goats. Many of these are highly sought. I have dealt with a number of hunters whose families make the skins ready for selling, and if I can assure them of wider markets, they will increase their hunting with the intention of sending the extra skins to you, in the lowlands. There are fine copper horns made here, and although some of the lamas do not approve of selling these sacred instruments, the makers are more than willing to provide them to me. I do not think you have had much like them to sell before. I am also able to supply gongs and bells, but these are heavy items and not readily transported down the mountains, and so I should not want to trade too many, for they would not allow for other loads on any beast carrying these gongs and bells, which would make them very costly to anyone who wished to purchase one.

I have fourteen Spiti ponies and nine yaks to bear my merchandise down to the markets your caravans have reached, and if you have need for more goods, I can acquire more animals to carry them. My brothers have herds of ponies and yaks, so my access to them is readily had, and I will not put myself at any disadvantage in paying more to carry the goods than I can hope to gain from trade. I tell you this to assure you that I am ready to undertake any amount of trade you require.

If such an arrangement is satisfactory to you, inform me of it and I will provide a guide to lead your caravan to Lhasa so that we may begin what I trust will be an association that is useful and profitable to us both. With the Sultans gone from Delhi, merchants like you and me can enjoy the trade that has so long been impossible.

Lonpah ST'amlontohr

merchant of Lhasa