can render Sanct' Germain. And never fear: when he finally returns I will scold him enough for the both of us.
With the assurance of my friendship, Olivia
by my own hand at Rome on the 29th day of November in the Church's year 1399.
3
Near midnight Sanat Ji Mani went out of his room into the garden; it was cool, with a lazy wind stirring the leaves and carrying the scent of jasmine, for even at the dark of the year, blossoms flourished in this warm, fecund climate. Overhead the constellations of winter hung, some familiar, others less so; Sanat Ji Mani studied the stars. He found the Hunter with his distinctive belt of three stars, Betelgeuse at the shoulder, Rigel at the knee; then the horns of the Bull, with the Pleiades and Aldebaran behind and below them, all directly overhead; Sirius, cold and bright, Pollux, and Procyon shone down from their ancient places. To the south there was the constellation the astronomers at Delhi had called the Djinn, marked by the brilliant Achenar, and another they had named The Emperor's Crown with Canopus at its apex. To the west, Deneb hung just above the shoulder of the wall, and in the east Regulus was rising.
He stood for a while, reacquainting himself with the winter sky, assembling and reassembling the patterns of stars according to the Egyptian, the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, and the Chinese, thinking that in the many, many years he had studied them while he walked the night, he had seen them change and move— very slowly, but over the centuries they brightened and dimmed, slid, and occasionally vanished in a flash or snuffed out as if a candle had been extinguished. His ruminations began to pall upon him, so he strolled beside the high wall, still glancing up from time to time; he was no longer interested
in the stars and their courses along the night, but in the men who kept watch down the wall, lances in their hands. As he approached the rear gate, one of the Guards confronted him.
"This way is locked," he said, his stance making it clear that the door would not be opened for him, locked or not.
"When will it be opened?" Sanat Ji Mani asked politely. "Your Great Gate opens at dawn. I must suppose this gate is opened then as well."
"It is opened when Rajput Hasin Dahele orders it to be open." The Guard lifted his lance, not aiming it, but suggesting that would be his next move.
"Then it is usually closed and locked," Sanat Ji Mani said.
"Yes. All the garden gates are locked. It is to protect the Rajput's family— and his guests." The Guard cocked his head. "You need not linger."
"Of course not," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I was hoping to find a higher vantage-point to look at the stars, but if the gate is locked, I will not bother." Saying that, he turned and ambled back along the fence, unobviously taking stock of the other Guards stationed along the wall. There was no point where he could approach the wall unobserved; he nodded once, grimly, before going into the palace and seeking out his room.
Tulsi was lying on the bed, deeply asleep, her pale-green silken robe closed tightly, the sash knotted in place. In the ten days since she had been poisoned, she had been deeply fatigued, her appetite poor, and her state of mind withdrawn. She stirred as he closed the door but she did not waken.
Sanat Ji Mani sat down on the pile of cushions on the far side of the room from the bed and gave himself over to thought: for all the courtesy they had been shown, Sanat Ji Mani was now convinced they were indeed prisoners. What he had not been able to discover was why, and what it was that Hasin Dahele wanted of him: and because he did not have those answers, he was increasingly eager to escape. He decided he would go out to the mustering court tomorrow night, to try to determine when the Guards were changed, and how that was set up, so that he might discover a break in their routine that would provide the chance for him and Tulsi to leave. Not, he reminded himself, that Tulsi was in any condition to leave; she would need an
other week at least to regain her strength and shake off the lethargy that had taken hold of her. Putting the tips of his fingers together, Sanat Ji Mani contemplated their situation, trying to decide what to do.
"You are awake," Tulsi said from her place on the bed. "How long have you been sitting there?" Her voice was still a bit rough, but it had improved noticeably in the last three days, a sure sign her body was finally beginning to heal.
"I did not want to disturb you," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"I like to have you beside me," she reminded him, holding out her arms to him. "Come. Lie here with me."
He rose and went to the bed, stretching out and extending an arm so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I tried the garden."
"Is it like the others?" She sounded half-awake but she was trying to pay attention. "Are we surrounded by the Rajput's men?"
"Yes. There are Guards everywhere." He touched her hair.
"Then we are truly captives," she said.
"It appears so," Sanat Ji Mani agreed. "I would like to know why. So far I have been unable to find out."
"You have asked the Rajput— directly?" Tulsi laid her hand on his chest.
"I have tried. He has fobbed me off with protestations of courtesy and gratitude for my company." Sanat Ji Mani gave a single shake to his head. "I cannot get an explanation out of Vayu Ede, either."
"Is he the only one who speaks with you— still?" There was a note of panic in her question.
Sanat Ji Mani inclined his head once. "He may be the only one given permission."
"Because he knows so little," she said with a hard sigh.
"Or because he is charged with learning things about us; that would seem to be his purpose," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"I do not trust that one. He is too…" She cleared her throat and tried again. "He is too unworldly, and yet he is busy in the world."
"That is true," said Sanat Ji Mani quietly, absently stroking her arm.
"He knows something," she said, scowling.
"Or he thinks he does, which may be worse." Sanat Ji Mani studied the ceiling as carefully as he had studied the sky. "If I knew what he
has decided about the two of us, I would know better how to learn from him."
"If he thinks he has such knowledge, he may tell the Rajput things we would not like." She waited a long moment for him to speak. "He could make up something dreadful."
"He could, but I doubt he will," said Sanat Ji Mani, giving her a reassuring cuddle. "If he tells too many tales, the Rajput will not trust him, and he wants that trust more than anything; it shows in everything he does."
Tulsi shook her head. "I do not understand him, and that makes me restive." She bit her lower lip. "If I had someone besides Vayu Ede to watch, I could learn much more. But isolated as we are—" She slapped the pillow to express her annoyance.
"Observe him; he will show himself to you if you do." He moved slightly so that she would be more comfortable. "No doubt he is part of the problem we have encountered here, but what part?"
"I cannot think," said Tulsi, disgusted. "They have put us in this silken prison, and will not say why. They attempted to kill me— or you— and for no reason." She flung up her hand and made a fist of it.
"Oh, there is a reason," said Sanat Ji Mani. "When we know what it is, we will have gone a long way to learning who made the attempt."
Tulsi shook her head. "And if you cannot find it out— what then?" She turned away from him. "What will become of us?"
"I do not know yet," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I hope we will be able to escape this place, and soon." He flexed his right foot, a rueful expression clouding his features. "If I did not have to deal with this—"
Tulsi sighed. "It is improving. I have seen you get better. But it is so slow."
"Those of my blood—" he began.
"—mend slowly. So you said; I had no idea you meant this slowly." Tulsi's frown deepened and she shoved herself up on her elbow. "You told me it would take more than a year, but I thought you were being cautious."
"Unfortunately, no," he said wryly. "I was run through with a lance once, many years ago. It did not touch my spine, so I lived, but it was four years before the wound in my side healed." Although the injury
had occurred a thousand years before, it was still a distressing memory; a ghost of the pain seared through him.
"Then you could be limping for another two years at least," said Tulsi, dismayed at the prospect. "How are we to escape if you cannot walk quickly, or far?"
"I suppose we would have to steal horses," said Sanat Ji Mani, so coolly that Tulsi was uncertain if he was jesting or not.
"Steal horses," she repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it more comprehensible. "Do you think you could?"
"The Rajput has a large stable. With a little forethought, we should be able to get away with two horses without too much trouble." He still seemed remote.
"And how are we to do this?" Tulsi asked.
"I have not come up with a plan yet," he confessed. "But I must begin to work on one. I cannot believe we are to be kept as we have been kept for much longer."
"Do you mean we could be imprisoned— more than we are now? Could we be separated? Put in cells or chains?" Whatever annoyance she felt toward him vanished at the thought of it. "Would they do that to us?"
"I do not know what they would do," Sanat Ji Mani said brusquely. "That is what troubles me. I only know they must do something."
"Why?" Tulsi asked. "Why not go on as they have been for… for years?"
"Because the Rajput is preparing for war, and that means he cannot permit two strangers to have access to all his people and his palace. He has been courteous for a reason, and that we cannot forget. We must be more confined, or we must be used in some way." He paused thoughtfully. "He may want us to serve as spies for him, which would explain why he has treated us well and watched us closely."
"Then why the poison?" Tulsi gestured him to silence and answered her own question. "There may be other spies in the household who know the Rajput's plans. His enemies may be our enemies as well."
"That is possible," said Sanat Ji Mani.
"Or he may have run out of uses for us and now wants to be rid of us," Tulsi went on as various theories jumbled in her mind.
"Yes," Sanat Ji Mani agreed.
"That was why Hasin Dahele was so interested in finding out where we had been: he intends to go north and wants as much intelligence as he can gather," she went on, her animation increasing. "Yes. That must be his purpose."
"He may be wanting to extend his frontiers," Sanat Ji Mani speculated. "The old Delhi Empire is in disarray; I doubt Hasin Dahele is the only Rajput who wants to take advantage of its collapse. He could be planning to rout the minor forces Timur-i left behind and occupy the region as his own."
"That is a long way to go," said Tulsi. "We have walked most of the way, and it took many weeks." She sat up. "But that is what he wants from us, is it not? Someone who knows the way and has been over the roads recently. If he is going north, he will need scouts to guide him along the way, for he cannot rely on the people to do so. The rains have made a difference in the roads, but I begin to comprehend…" She let the rest of her thoughts go.
Sanat Ji Mani was half-convinced she was right. "It makes sense," he told her.
"If he is determined to go to war with us to conduct him, I do not know how we are to get away." She leaned toward him. "Could we escape once the campaign begins?"
"It would be more dangerous than going now," Sanat Ji Mani said slowly. "But it may be our only opportunity."
"What of the other Rajputs in this region?" Tulsi asked suddenly. "Do you think they are with Hasin Dahele, or against him?"
"I do not know," said Sanat Ji Mani. "If they are against him, he is going to have a hard time of it, for he will have to fight his way through their opposition. If they are with him, he may be able to carve out enough territory to make himself a Raja, and not the grandson of one." The possibility of battle sickened him: he had seen too much of it through the centuries to believe it was anything more than chaos and slaughter, and that most of its gains were not sufficient to justify the suffering it created.
"Would he not have messengers going out to secure the friendship of the other Rajputs?" Tulsi wondered aloud.
"He could certainly do so," said Sanat Ji Mani, going on musingly, "unless he is planning to surprise them with his campaign, to move
before they can mount any resistance, in which case he would be wise to keep his plans to himself."
"And keep travelers like us where he can control them," she added. "Yes." She got up from the bed. "Do you think this will happen soon?"
"I would suppose after the dark of the year: there is a time before the worst of the heat comes when he might safely wage war without having to battle the climate as well." Sanat Ji Mani watched her as she began to pace. "You realize this is all our surmise, that we cannot be certain of any of it."
