He gave both of them a stony look. "Without complete command of the sea-which depends on the Ethiopian fleet-we could easily wind up in exactly the same position we left the Malwa last year-with a huge army stranded, and dying of starvation. We can't possibly weather through the first few months in the Indus simply on the food which the valley's peasants might provide us. Their own situation will have been completely disrupted also. We need our own stable logistics train for that first winter, no matter what else may happen."
Neither Khusrau nor Antonina responded. They were both bridling at the logic, but neither of them could quite figure out how to gainsay it.
Still, they intended to try, clear enough. Belisarius braced himself for renewed quarrel.
Whereupon came the second royal intervention.
* * *
The doors opened, and Agathius limped in, shouldering his way through the ornate and heavy portals with rough abandon, even knocking one aside with a crutch. He seemed excited-excited enough, at least, that he began speaking in the presence of royalty without so much as a polite cough of apology.
"You won't believe this, but a whole slew of ships just showed up on the horizon. Biggest damn fleet I've ever seen. Axumites, no doubt about it. And if we're interpreting those newfangled flag signals of yours correctly, King Eon himself is leading them."
Belisarius stared at Khusrau. Then at Antonina.
"You planned this," he accused.
"Nonsense!" retorted Khusrau. "How could she?"
"Indeed," concurred Antonina with demure reproof. "Just feminine intuition, that's all. As reliable as ever."
Chapter 20
The Jamuna
Summer, 533 A.D.
The first thing Nanda Lal saw, after Toramana ushered him into his small pavilion, was the statue resting on a small table in a corner. The statue was a representation of Virabhadra, the chief deity in the Mahaveda cult which had become the central axis of the Malwa version of Hinduism.
The Mahaveda priest who accompanied Nanda Lal wandered over and gazed upon the statue with. not reverence, so much as satisfaction. After a few seconds, he turned away and fixed Toramana with a stern gaze.
"And do you practice the rites?"
Toramana nodded. "Three times, every day. Have done so, since I was a child. My father was a devout man."
The priest grunted. "Good. And how is your father now?"
Toramana's face remained impassive. The big Ye-tai officer's shoulders simply shifted, in what might be interpreted as a shrug. "He's dead. Killed at Ranapur, when the rebels set off the detonation. My brother was killed there also."
Nanda Lal's jaws tightened a bit. He hadn't been given that information by his spies, before he left Kausambi. It was an oversight which several of them would regret.
But he said nothing. Nanda Lal had already made clear to the priest that he wanted him to do most of the talking. The priest had not forgotten. After a brief, quickly suppressed start of surprise, the Mahaveda cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. My condolences."
"It was quick. All men die. The rebels were punished."
The Ye-tai officer seemed to find those curt sentences adequate. Watching him carefully, Nanda Lal decided the man was stolid by nature. Intelligent enough, clearly-Damodara was not in the habit of promoting dullards, certainly not to general rank-but not given to excessive flights of imagination.
"My name is Vishwanathan," announced the priest. "As you perhaps already know, I was sent here specifically on the instructions of the emperor."
"So Narses informed me." Toramana extended his hand, inviting the priest to sit on the cushions before a lowset table. In some indefinable way, the hand gesture also included Nanda Lal without giving him the precedence which the chief spymaster for the entire Malwa Empire-and, like Venandakatra, a first cousin of the emperor-would normally enjoy.
Nanda Lal was impressed. He would not have expected such subtlety from a Ye-tai, not even a general officer. In a very short time, he realized, Toramana had already deduced that Nanda Lal intended to use the priest as his unofficial "envoy."
"Something to eat?" asked the Ye-tai. "Drink?"
The priest shook his head, but accepted the offer to sit. Nanda Lal remained standing, a few feet back from the table.
"I wish no servants to be present," said the priest, after settling himself comfortably on the cushions. As Toramana took a seat across from him at the table, the priest's eyes ranged through the pavilion.
The Ye-tai officer interpreted the movement of his eyes correctly. "There are no servants present, anywhere in the pavilion. If we need them, they wait outside. I assumed you wanted a private audience."
Not a dullard at all, thought Nanda Lal. Which, in itself, is good. So long as-
Toramana's next words surprised the spymaster. And caused him to revise upward his estimate of the Ye-tai general's intelligence.
"You wish to determine my loyalty. You are concerned over the implications of my future marriage into the Chauhar dynasty."
Vishwanathan nodded. "Exactly. There was much discussion in the Imperial Council, once the news arrived. I was present myself, at some of those discussions."
In the brief silence which followed, Nanda Lal gauged Toramana's reaction to the news that his affairs had been subjected to careful imperial scrutiny. Most Ye-tai officers-most officers of any kind in the Malwa army-would have been both surprised and apprehensive.
Toramana's reaction was-
Nothing. Might as well have told a tree it was made of wood. Or a stone that it was solid.
Before Nanda Lal's own apprehensiveness could do more than stir, Toramana surprised him again.
"I expected it would be," said the Ye-tai. "For obvious reasons, a marital alliance between Ye-tai and Rajput would be cause for imperial concern."
The priest, startled by the Ye-tai's frankness, cast a quick glance at Nanda Lal. The spymaster returned the glance with a stony gaze. The priest looked away hastily. Then, after a pause, lifted an eyebrow at the Ye-tai general, inviting further elaboration.
"Obvious," repeated Toramana. "The power of the Malwa dynasty, beyond its control of the Deva weapons, rests primarily on the pillars of the Ye-tai and the Rajputs. A tripod, as it were." Again, Toramana made that little shoulder-shifting gesture. "And the Kushans also, once-to a degree. But that leg is now cracked, and may splinter."
For the first time since he entered the pavilion, Nanda Lal spoke. "Three legs will still support a stool, even if the fourth breaks."
Toramana nodded, without looking at the spymaster. He kept his eyes on the face of the priest.
"Yes. The more so when that fourth leg was never much trusted at any time. Provided that the remaining three legs remain stationed at very different angles. Let two of them merge into one, and you no longer have a stool. You have a two-legged spill waiting to happen. Which, of course, is why the emperor is concerned about my marital plans."
The Ye-tai fell silent. After a few seconds, Nanda Lal realized that he would speak no further without another invitation. And realized, as well, that in so doing Toramana was making an invitation of his own.
The spymaster relaxed still further. He was an experienced bargainer, and could recognize a bargain in the making when he saw one.
That recognition brought another. The priest was now out of his depth, and Nanda Lal would have to abandon completely his pose of disinterested observer. The decision made, Nanda Lal stepped forward and took his own seat at the table.