Though it was unheard-of, Saint-Germain interjected a comment. “Great Lord, I know it is a most desirable honor to be close to you, and I am profoundly grateful that you should extend your hospitality to me. However, there are those who will not speak kindly of you for taking a foreigner into your house. They will fear that you are being influenced by those from beyond your borders. You know far better than I how perilous these times are. I would be loath to bring any misfortune to you because my presence here caused needless suspicion to fall on you.” He did not add that he had no desire to be closely watched. Household spies were inevitable, but he was determined to maintain as much privacy as possible.
Dantinusha’s face had hardened. “What you say is true, and it is, for you, quite convenient.”
“On the contrary,” Saint-Germain said at once. “You live in a splendid palace with more slaves and servants than any other person in your principality. My studies are arduous and nothing would suit me more than having access to the records and the assistance of those who serve you.” That, he told himself, was true enough. “However, it would benefit neither you nor me, Great Lord, to have rumors spreading that would override any advantages that my presence might have.”
“So you maintain,” Guristar snapped, his eyes kindled with anger. “And you wish to do your evil work where none may watch you. You think to conceal your intent with this pretty lie, but it will not work, foreigner.”
Saint-Germain turned to the Commander of the guard, hesitating in order to master his temper. “If you are offering me servants to spy on me,” he said in a dangerously even tone, “I will not refuse them. I have assumed that there will be reports made of my activities, no matter where I live, or with whom.” His small hands were tight at his sides, but there was nothing in his face now that would reveal how near he had come to giving way to his rage.
“Both of you: stop at once,” Dantinusha ordered, sounding more tired than incensed. “I have trouble enough without you bickering in this petty way.” He rubbed at his lower lip. “I have said that you, Saint-Germain, may stay here for a year. I will not rescind my offer. I have suggested that you live here at my palace, and the disadvantages you have mentioned are genuine—they are, Guristar, and you would be the first to warn me of these consequences of having a foreigner here if Saint-Germain had not mentioned it before you had the opportunity.” He looked up at the elaborately ornamented ceiling. He wished that the old jeweler Nandalas had never told him about the jewels or the foreigner who had brought them. It was not possible to ignore either of them, but he wished that instead of conducting this tedious interview, he was in the company of his new concubine, spending the evening not in debate but in the varied pleasures of the body. He had few of the luxuries his grandfathers had enjoyed, but he still had women and boys in abundance.
“You cannot allow him to live away from you!” Guristar exploded.
“I realize that,” Rajah Dantinusha said, his attention once again directed to the matter at hand. “Something must be done.”
“There is prison,” Guristar said nastily.
The idea had occurred to Dantinusha, but he had rejected it, for if this foreigner were a spy, his masters would learn soon enough what had become of him, and would send others in his place, others who would be less easily detected. “And if I order him to prison, or have him executed, what do I gain? There is no peace of mind to be had in this affair, no matter what I do.” He glowered at a space on the wall and set his teeth. “It is of no matter. Something must be done.” He directed his gaze at Saint-Germain and was both relieved and disappointed that the foreigner did not quail under the force of his eyes. “Suppose I made one of my country estates available to you? What then?”
This was becoming even more difficult, and Saint-Germain chose his words with care. “Whatever you, Great Lord, decide is the most appropriate solution, I, as a foreigner and guest in your country, will comply with your wishes with gratitude. The objections I raised previously might still pertain, for I would be, in effect, a guest in your house. You might prefer to send me to one of your brothers or cousins…”
“Never,” Dantinusha muttered, thinking of the bloody uprising his younger brother had led three years before. “I have no surviving brothers or cousins,” he explained in a carefully neutral tone.
“Then perhaps one of your ministers might be willing to receive me into his home.” Saint-Germain had not missed the tension that had filled the room at his casual mention of cousins and brothers. He determined to find out as quickly as possible what had become of the Rajah’s male relatives. “It might be better to send me to one of your ministers’ country estates.”
“Who would be such a fool as to let you so far out of his sight?” Guristar demanded, unaware that his outbursts were working contrary to his interests.
Rajah Dantinusha did not smile, but there was a lighter turn to his full mouth. “My sister.”
“What?” Guristar shouted as Jaminya laughed.
“My sister,” Dantinusha repeated. “I may be able to persuade her to accept this foreigner into her house. Surely no one would accuse her of subversion.” The more he considered this, the more he found it an excellent plan. “Yes. I will send a messenger to her at once.”
“She may refuse,” the Brahmin Rachura warned the Rajah.
“She may, but I doubt she will. She’s an educated woman, and the opportunity to have such a companion…” He regarded Saint-Germain somewhat more speculatively. “Would you be willing to go to the home of my older sister?”
The proposition was unexpected, but Saint-Germain sensed that it was the best alternative to staying at the Rajah’s palace. “If my presence will not compromise the woman, it would be an honor to stay at the house of your sister for a year. I will defray the cost of any expenses she may incur in providing me proper quarters.” He added this for Guristar’s benefit, for he sensed that the commander of the guard was eager to find objections to this plan.
Expense was rarely discussed with the Rajah, and the others were shocked to hear Saint-Germain mention the cost of housing him. Rachura was embarrassed and averted his face. Guristar chuckled scornfully. Rajah Dantinusha looked perplexed, but said, “She may agree to that. She’s an unusual woman.” His discomfort—and he was clearly uncomfortable—was shared by his companions, so that Saint-Germain began to be apprehensive about the woman. He concealed his doubts and bowed in the Western fashion.
“I look forward to her acquaintance,” he said, though he was not at all certain that he did.
Report to the Sultan Shams-ud-din Iletmish at Delhi, from his representative at Rajah Dantinusha’s court, Ab-she-lam Eidan.
To the Saltan Shams-ud-din Iletmish, in the seventh year of his reign, and by the Will of Allah, this from Ab-she-lam Eidan in Natha Suryarathas, the principality of Rajah Dantinusha.
To the beloved son of Allah, just ruler and wise judge, greetings.
This is to inform you of the activities in Natha Suryarathas and the doings of the court of Rajah Dantinusha. Tributary payment in gold and gems accompany this message. You will notice that there is a particularly fine emerald among the jewels, which lately came into the hands of the Rajah. I could wish it were the Will of Allah that all Princes on the borders of the Sultanate were as reasonable and sensible as Dantinusha. I fear that if we ever have to deal with his daughter it will bring misfortune to all of us. She has the soul of the screech owl and is said to worship unclean things. I have seen her but once—she is a young woman, lovely after the beauty of these people, and made for voluptuousness, and if it is true that she consorts with demons, it is a double tragedy, for we will no longer have a thoughtful man to deal with, but a dangerous and willful woman, from which Allah preserve us.
Rumors continue that the Rajah will order the construction of an artificial lake in the little valley near his palace. I have in the past described this to you, and I will say that the setting is quite soothing. There is already something of a garden there
, which is above the low ground where the lake would be. Two builders have come to consult on the matter with the Rajah, and although nothing has been announced, I feel certain that he will soon decide whether or not to embark upon the project. It is my intention to encourage him in this. As long as he is building lakes, he will not be thinking of war.
Rajah Dantinusha’s Commander of the guards, Sudra Guristar, is not so tolerant in his attitude. He frets under what he imagines to be your tyranny, and longs for a bloody uprising. He did not participate in the rebellion the Rajah’s brothers attempted, and feels cheated. It is understandable that he should wish for the honor of battle and the opportunity to kill his enemies, yet I hope that he will not decide to rouse Natha Suryarathas. I have developed a fondness for this place and it would sadden me to see it destroyed. Surely if it is the Will of Allah, then it must be, but my prayers are that I will not have to see it, if it must come to pass.
A messenger has recently been sent to Dantinusha’s sister, Padmiri, who is sometimes called Manas Sattva for her reputed dedication to study. I have never had occasion to meet this woman, for she lives retired from the court, and since the uprising of the brothers and cousins, has not seen her brother. It has been maintained that she had no part in the treachery, but we are wisely taught that all the evil in the world lies between a woman’s thighs, and I find her refusal to see the Rajah indicative of her native female cunning. Apparently the message has some relation to the foreigner who has recently arrived in this principality, but I have learned nothing more either of him or why Padmiri should be concerned with it.
A periyanadu has been ordered for two moons hence. That is the country-wide village assembly that is called at the whim of the Rajah, when grievances are heard and the state of the country is discussed, so that all the villages may understand their roles in the development of the country, and the wishes of the Rajah may be made clear to all. For the most part these are peaceable, and this one will doubtless be the same unless Guristar attempts to light the fires of rebellion once again. This will be the first periyanadu in well over a year, so the Rajah anticipates a long meeting, perhaps as long as forty days. Much will depend on the weather, but the worst of the rains should have ceased by the time of the periyanadu. There was quite a bad storm ten days ago, and the farmers say that there is another one coming, but all agree that the rains will have ceased by the time the village leaders gather. There has been relatively little flooding this year—Allah is merciful even to these infidels—and the Rajah has said that he plans to expand the dike system he has begun on the various brooks that feed the Chenab here. There is no protection but Allah, and his precautions are those of a wise but faithless man.
When you next send a messenger to me, I would appreciate knowing more of the news of Persia. I have heard that the warriors of Jenghiz Khan have swarmed over the country, worse than all the insects that feed upon the dead, and that the stench of the carrion they have left behind them rises to heaven throughout the land. If this is indeed so, it is a great catastrophe, and one that demands vengeance of all those who trust in Allah. This Jenghiz Khan cannot be a man like other men, I fear, since it has been said that his warriors have also conquered half of the Yellow Empire, and how can it be that he should do that as well as destroy the cities of Persia? I pray that your response will put my mind at rest. Doubtless there have been a number of border skirmishes, and these have been repeated with additions in the telling, and what is a minor incursion has been magnified into a full invasion.
May Allah grant that your life be long and filled with honor, the devotion of your women, and many sons. It is my privilege to serve you here in the principality of the Rajah Dantinusha, and any other place you may desire to send me. There is no will greater in my life than yours, save that of Allah, who is All-powerful and All-compassionate.
From the hand of Ab-she-lam Eidan, in Natha Suryarathas on the Chenab, at the end of summer.
11
There was a cold, wanton light in her enormous eyes as Tamasrajasi opened the door to Sudra Guristar. At seventeen, she had not yet reached the full flowering of her body, yet the Commander of the guard could not look at her without being gripped by intense lust, for the girl was magnificent.
“Be seated,” Tamasrajasi said, indicating a pile of cushions. “I have given orders for refreshments.”
Guristar had to clear his throat before he could answer. “It is not wise to let the slaves know I visit you.”
Tamasrajasi had a clear, cruel laugh. “They will say nothing. My slaves are better schooled than that.”
As Guristar sank onto the cushions, he reached out to touch her. “Will you deny me?”
She allowed him to caress the flaring rise of her hips, turning provocatively away when he sought greater liberties. “Not yet, Commander. There are matters we must discuss before we do … anything else.”
“Very well.” He felt his hands tremble as he brought them to his sides. His greedy eyes lingered on the line of her buttocks, then the swell of her breasts as she made herself comfortable on the other side of a low table.
“Sudra Guristar, you are devoted to me, are you not?” She had leaned back, offering him a tantalizing view of her body.
Guristar rubbed his palms on his short sleeveless jacket, and felt the embroidery as if it were the new lines in his hands. “Most assuredly, Rani.” He should not give her that title, not while her father lived and she remained unmarried, but he could not stop himself. He did not want to stop himself.
“Excellent, Commander. I wish you to remember this in days to come.” She clapped her hand sharply and said as an inner door opened, “Bring the refreshments at once.”
“Yes, Shakti,” murmured the voice.
“They call you Shakti?” Guristar asked, thinking that the essence of female power was an appropriate name for her.
Tamasrajasi only smiled, and said, “I will have need of your devotion, Sudra Guristar. The time is drawing near when there are many things I will require of you. I must be certain that you will do them without question.”
“I have vowed to aid you,” Guristar reminded her, trying not to gaze too long at the place where her sheer chamber robe folded between her legs.
“Are you still determined?” There was a sharper note in her voice and she watched him closely, her elegant head held imperiously.
“I am.” He determined to give his attention to their words, not to surrender to the distraction of her splendid flesh. “The insult to the gods must be avenged, and the kingdom restored. We have tolerated the presence of the Islamic dogs too long. Your father—I know I may say this to you—is on a course that will only lead to disaster. Only two days ago money and jewels were sent to Delhi to the man who calls himself Sultan. In the time of your great-great-grandfather, the boundaries of Natha Suryarathas were farther than any man could ride on a swift horse for ten days. Cities that now bow to the Sultan called your great-great-grandfather Maharajah, and it was right that they did so. Now, your father is permitted to call himself a Rajah, but he pays tribute to those curs in the south. We are reviled, and your father does nothing.”
“You speak with conviction—”
“It is not feigned.”
Her brows snapped together; she did not wish him to interrupt her. “But I do not know that you will stand by me when I summon all of my subjects to aid me in casting off the yoke my father wears like an ox.” Her nails were long, and as she drew them down the heavy silk of the cushion, they made a faint, eerie shriek.
Guristar shifted uneasily; his groin was tightening, stiffening. Perhaps he should not look at Tamasrajasi, he told himsef, but could not turn away from her. “Yes,” he agreed hazily. “The yoke … must be thrown off.”
A slave girl came into the room and placed a tray of honeyed fruit on the table, then made obeisance to Tamasrajasi.
“You have done well,” Dantinusha’s daughter said sweetly, motioning for the slave to withdraw.
The girl sc
rambled up from her position on the carpet and hastened from the room.
“All your slaves mind you,” Guristar said after the door was closed.
“It’s best for them if they do.” She leaned forward and inspected the fruits on the tray. “You may take what you like,” she said to him, her voice promising him more than the refreshments on the table.
“Most certainly,” he said, feeling slightly drunk. He selected a peach, and found that its shape, its scent, the waxy honey that clung to it, all aroused him unbearably. He put the fruit back on the tray and licked his fingers. “Perhaps later.”
Tamasrajasi laughed again, this time low in her throat. “You would prefer me to the peach, wouldn’t you, Sudra Guristar?” She ran one hand along the curve of her hip.
At that moment, Guristar wished to sheathe his flesh in hers though it cost him the world. “Tamasraj…” he began, then stopped breathless, as the girl drew her robe up, revealing all her body to him. This, he told himself sternly, was the Rajah’s daughter and he, as Commander of Dantinusha’s guard, should be the last man to pursue this girl. Even as he thought of these objections, he was moving toward her, loosening the sash at his waist. After the most perfunctory of caresses, he knelt between her thighs and lifted her hips to him. As he went into her, she made a strange sound, half a sigh of satisfaction, half some more sinister emotion. Then, in a swift, powerful motion, she had risen, and straddling his legs, held his face to her breasts as she urged him on fiercely. So intense was his pleasure that he did not feel her nails on his back when she had torn away his tunic.
“Guristar,” Tamasrajasi murmured when she had finished with him, “you are dedicated to me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, now curiously numbed. He gathered his clothes about him in a mechanical way.
Path of the Eclipse Page 33
