"Three, actually. There's another in my right boot and a small one tucked between my shoulder blades. If you'll permit to rise just a bit-no?-then you'll have to roll me over to get it."
He's got three daggers, captain! One of them's a throwing knife! He's an assassin!
A flurry of harsh questions followed.
"Well, yes, of course I'm an assassin. Who else would be idiotic enough to ride alone and openly through Maratha territory? But you may rest assured that I was not on my way to make an attempt on Rao's life. I have a letter for him. For the Empress, actually."
A flurry of harsher accusations followed.
"Oh, that's nonsense. If I wanted to assassinate the Empress, I'd hardly use a blade for the purpose. With Rao himself to guard her? No, no, poison's the thing. I've studied Shakuntala's habits, from many spy reports, and her great weakness is that she refuses to use a food-taster."
A flurry of still harsher proposals followed. They began with impalement and worked their way down from there.
Fortunately, by the time they got to the prospect of flaying the assassin alive, the captain of the Maratha squad had finally taken Ajatasutra's advice to look in his left boot.
"See? I told you I was carrying a letter for the Empress."
There came, then, the only awkward moment of the day.
None of them could read.
"And here I took the time and effort to provide a Marathi translation, along with the Hindi," sighed Ajatasutra. "I'm an idiot. Too much time spent in palaces. Ah… I don't suppose you'd just take my word for it?"
A very long flurry of very harsh ridicule followed. But, in the end, the Maratha hillmen agreed that they'd accept the letter as good coin-provided that Ajatasutra read it aloud to them so they could be sure it said what he claimed it did.
Peshawar
Capital city of the Kushan Kingdom
Kungas, also, found that the first Malwa assassination attempt came later than he'd expected.
He was not, however, caught by surprise. In fact, he wasn't caught at all.
Kungas was certainly not one of the best assassins in India. Not even close. He was, however, most likely the best assassin- catcher. For years, the Malwa had used him as a security specialist. After he broke from them to join Shakuntala's rebellion, she'd made him the commander of her imperial bodyguard.
"They're in that building," Kujulo murmured, pointing with his chin out of the window. He was too far away from the window to be seen from the outside, but he was also too experienced to run the risk that a large gesture like a pointing finger might be spotted. The human eye can detect motion easier than it can detect a still figure. "One of the two you predicted they'd use."
"It was fairly obvious," said Kungas. "They're the only two buildings fronting the square that have both a good angle for a shot and a good rear exit to make an escape from."
Next to him, also carefully standing back from the window so as not to be spotted, Vima chuckled softly. "It helps, of course, that we prepared the sites well. Like bait for rats."
Kungas nodded. The gesture, like Kujulo's chin-pointing, was minimal. Something that couldn't possibly be spotted even fifty feet away, much less across an entire city square.
Bait, indeed. The king of the Kushans-his queen, rather, acting on his instructions-had bought the two buildings outright. Then, placed her own agents in the position of "landlords," with clear and explicit instructions to rent any of the rooms to anyone, no questions asked-and make sure that their reputation for doing so became well known in Peshawar.
Inevitably, of course, that quickly made both buildings havens for prostitution and gambling. All the better, as far as Kungas was concerned. Within a week, all of the prostitutes were cheerfully supplementing their income as informers for the queen.
Irene had known the Malwa assassins were there within half an hour of their arrival.
Piss-poor assassins, in Kungas' opinion, when she told him. They'd started by annoying the whores with a brusque refusal of their services.
"All right," he said. "I see no reason to waste time."
"How do you want to do it?" asked Kujulo. "You don't want to use the charges, I assume."
In the unlikely event he might need it a last resort, Kungas had had all the rooms in the buildings that would be suitable for assassination attempts fitted with demolitions. Shaped charges, basically, that would spray the interior with shrapnel without-hopefully-collapsing the walls.
Still, with the ubiquitous mudbrick construction in Peshawar, Kungas saw no reason to take the risk. There was always the chance the building might collapse, killing dozens of people. Even if that didn't happen, the expense of repairing the damage would be considerable, and the work itself disruptive. Such an extreme measure might aggravate the residents of Peshawar.
Irene's spies had reported that Kungas was now very popular in the city, even among the non-Kushan inhabitants, and he saw no reason to undermine that happy state of affairs.
The new king's popularity was not surprising, of course. Kungas had maintained at least as much stability as the Malwa. More, really, since the Pathan hillmen had completely ceased their periodic harassment of the city-dwellers. He'd also lowered the taxes and levies, eliminated the most egregious of the Malwa regulations, and, most of all, abolished all of the harsh Malwa laws regarding religion. The enforced Malwa cult of mahaveda Hinduism had never sat well in the mountains. The moment Kungas issued his decrees, the region's underlying Buddhist faith had surged back to the surface.
No, there was no reason to risk undermining all that by blowing up parts of the city. Especially such visible parts, fronting on the main square.
"I've got my men ready," Kujulo added.
"What are they armed with? The assassins, I mean. Guns?"
"No. Bows. Probably be using poisoned arrowheads."
Kungas shook his head. "In that case, no. Keep your men ready, but let's try the Sarmatian girls."
Kujulo looked skeptical. Vima looked downright appalled.
"Kungas-ah, Sire-there isn't a one of them-"
"Enough," Kungas said. "I know they have no experience. Neither did you or I, once. How else do you get it?"
He shook his head again. "If the Malwa were armed with guns, it might be different. But bows will be awkward in the confines of those rooms. The girls will have a good chance. Some of them will die. But… That's what they wanted. To be real warriors. Dying comes with it."
The crack of a smile re-appeared. "Besides, it's only fair-since we're using one of them as the decoy."
A few minutes later, the business began. The Sarmatian girl posing as Irene came into the square on horseback, surrounded by her usual little entourage of female guards.
Watching from the same window, Kungas was amused. Irene often complained that the custom in the area of insisting that women had to be veiled in public was a damned nuisance, personally speaking-but a blessing, from the standpoint of duplicity.
Was that Irene down there? Who could say, really? Her face couldn't be seen, because of the veil. But the woman was the right height and build, had the same color and length of hair in that distinctive pony-tail, wore the proper regalia and the apparel, and had the accustomed escort.
Of course, it was the queen. Who else would it be?
Kungas knew that the assassins across the square wouldn't even be wondering about it. True, Irene was almost certainly not their target and the assassins would make no attempt here. They'd wait for Kungas to show himself. Still, the appearance of the queen in the square so soon after their arrival would be a good sign to them. They'd want to study her movements carefully. All their attention would be fixed on the figure moving within range of the bows in the windows.