Never greater than now.
For the first time in his life, Sanga realized, he had a true and genuine lord. And, desperately, wanted his master's guidance.
Ajatasutra glanced up at the priest atop the wagon he was now standing beside. The mahaveda was scowling, of course. But, if anything, had his attention more riveted in the distance than ever.
Oh, splendid.
As soon as Damodara drew alongside the Rajput king, he nodded toward Rao.
"You cannot survive this, Sanga," he said softly. "When glory and honor and duty and necessity all clash together, on the same field, no man can survive. Not even the gods can do so."
The Rajput's dark eyes stared at him.
"Lord…" he said slowly.
"Yes, well." Damodara cleared his throat. Awkward, that. But he did need to keep a straight face. Even if that maniac's grin thirty yards away was infectious.
"Yes, well. That's actually the point. You may recall that I once told you, on the banks of the Tigris, that the day might come when I would need to remind you of your oath."
"Yes, Lord." The eyes seemed darker yet. "I swore an oath-as did all Rajputs-to the Emperor of Malwa."
"Indeed so. Well, I just discovered-"
He had to clear his throat again. No choice. Damn that Maratha rascal!
"Amazing news. Horrifying, actually. But Narses ferreted out the plot. It seems that-two generations ago, if you can believe it-"
Damodara had insisted on that, over-riding the eunuch's protests, even though it made the forgeries far more difficult. He did not think it likely his father and mother would survive what was coming, despite Narses' assurances. So be it. They were elderly, in any event. But he would not have them shamed also.
"-unscrupulous plotters in the dynasty substituted another baby for the rightful heir. Who was my grandfather, as it happens. The rightful heir to the throne, that is. Which means that Skandagupta is an impostor and a fraud, and his minion Nanda Lal is a traitor and a wretch. And, well, it seems that I am actually the Emperor of Malwa."
By now, he wished he could strangle that still-grinning Maratha ape. Even though he'd gotten it all out without choking once.
Alas. The only man who could possibly manage that feat was Rana Sanga.
Who was still staring at him, with eyes that now seemed as dark as eternity.
Carefully keeping his gaze away from Rao and his blasted grin, Damodara spoke as sternly as he could manage.
"So, king of Rajputana. Will you honor your oath?"
It all fell into place for Sanga, then. As if the last shadow onion, hurled by his shadow wife, had struck him on the forehead and abruptly dispelled all illusions.
He looked away from Damodara and gazed upon Rao.
He always understood, Sanga realized. And, thus, understood me as well.
Sanga remembered the silvery moon over tortured Ranapur, that he had turned away from out of his duty. And knew, at last, that the duty has been illusion also. Already, then, nothing but illusion.
He remembered Belisarius holding a jewel in his hand, and asking the Rajput king if he would exchange his plain wife for a beautiful one. The answer to that question had been obvious to Sanga at the time. Why, he wondered now, had he not seen that the same answer applied to all things?
He remembered Belisarius' exact words, speaking of the jewel in his hand. How stupid of Sanga, not to have understood then!
This, too, is a thing of pollution. A monster. An intelligent being created from disease. The worst disease which ever stalked the universe. And yet Is he not beautiful? Just like a diamond, forged out of rotting waste?
For years, Sanga had held tightly to the memory of his duel with Rao. Had held to that memory, as he'd seen the glory of his youth slide into what seemed an endless pit of vileness and corruption.
Looking upon Raghunath Rao today, standing almost naked before him-naked and unarmed-Sanga knew that he was already defeated. But also understood that, out of this defeat, would come the victory he had so desperately sought for so many years.
So stupid.
How could he have been so blind, not to have seen the truth? Not to have seen the way in which, out of the filth and evil of the Malwa dynasty, had emerged the true thing? There was no excuse, really, since Sanga had been there to bear witness, every step of the way. Had been there himself, and witnessed, as a short, fat-fat then, at least-and unassuming distant cousin of the Emperor had shown Sanga and all Rajputs that their sacred vows had not and would not be scorned by the gods of India.
An onion, peeled away by divine will to show the jewel at the center.
Even Narses had seen it. And if the Roman eunuch had chosen forgery and duplicity to peel away the illusion, Sanga had no need of such artificial devices.
The truth was what it was. The great land of India needed a great emperor. And now it had one, despite the schemes of an alien monster. No, not even despite the monster. Though never meaning to do so and never recognizing its own deed, the monster itself had created that true emperor, because it had created the need for him.
In a manner that the Roman traitor would never understand, his forgeries were simply a recognition of the truth.
"Of course, Emperor," he said.
Damodara had seen Sanga smile before. Not often, true, by the standards of most men. Still, he'd seen him smile. Even grin, now and then.
Never, though, in a manner you might almost call sly.
"Of course," Sanga repeated. "You forget that I am also a student of philosophy. If not"-he jerked his head toward Rao-"with the same extravagance as that one. But enough to understand that truth and illusion fade into each other, when the cycle comes. I remember pondering that matter, as I listened to the screams of dying Ranapur."
There was no humor in the last sentence. Nor in the next.
"And did I not understand, my wife would explain it to me. If she could."
"Oh." Damodara felt like an idiot. "Sorry. I forgot. Narses uncovered another plot. It seems-"
" Please, Lord. She has been my life. She and my children."
"Still is, still is. So are they." Damodara drew the little knife from the pouch, and handed it to the Rajput. "She said-told Narses, through Ajatasutra-that you'd recognize this. Asked that you be given an onion, too."
He drew that forth also, feeling like an idiot again. What sort of emperor serves up onions?
But since the answer was obvious, he didn't feel like much of an idiot.
Successful emperors, that's who.
Sanga stared down at the knife and the onion, though he made no attempt to take them. No way he could have, without relinquishing the bow and the arrow.
"Yes, I recognize it. And the message in the onion. I felt its shadow strike me, but a minute ago."
For an instant, the Rajput's eyes flicked toward the Malwa army. "Narses, " he hissed, sounding like a cobra. A very, very angry cobra.
That had to be deflected. "Later, Sanga. For the moment…"
Damodara's jaws tightened. He was still quietly furious at Narses himself.
"He probably kept us all alive. And in the meantime, there are other matters to deal with."
Sanga took a slow deep breath. "Yes." Another such breath, by the end of which the tall and powerful figure on the horse next to Damodara seemed quite relaxed.
Poised rather, in the manner of a great warrior.