“Although?”
Kungas made a quick assessment. Partly, the assessment was based on his memory of Venandakatra’s scowls toward the general. But, in the main, it was based on the faint but unmistakable trace of humor in the general’s voice when he used the word “abductors.”
“Well, as it happens, I examined the scene of the-ah, crime-myself. At Lord Venandakatra’s behest. That is why I said ’one abductor.’ The entire operation was carried out by one man.”
“ One man?” demanded the general. But he did not seem particularly astonished.
Kungas nodded. “Yes. One man. The trail of slaughter was that left by a single man, not a group. One man, alone. A man by the name of Raghunath Rao. The Panther of Maharashtra, he is sometimes called. Or the Wind of the Great Country. Other names. It was he. I am certain of it. He is known to have a personal attachment to the princess. There are not more than three-possibly four-assassins in India who are that deadly. And none has that proficiency with their bare hands and feet.”
Kungas almost grimaced. “No one else can shatter bones and pulverize bodies that way. That is why-ah, that is, the two mahamimamsa who were killed in the princess’ own chamber were also slain by hand. But the blows, though skillful, had none of the pure fury of the Panther’s.”
The general frowned.
“But-you said one man-”
“The princess. She killed them. She was trained by Raghunath Rao, you see. Such, at least, is my personal belief. I watched her dance, many times, in the long months I served as her captor-ah, guardian. Wonderful dancer, but-well, there was always that scent of the assassin about her movements. And in Amaravati, at the end of the siege, she killed several Ye-tai who attacked her in her room. One of them after she was disarmed.”
The general’s eyes widened. Slightly.
Kungas lowered his head, stared at the ground. When he spoke, his voice was as hard as his face.
“As to your first question-will they be captured? Yes. They will. Their position is hopeless.”
“Why are you so certain?”
Kungas shrugged, looked up. “She is but a girl, General. A princess. Oh, true, a princess like no other you’ve ever seen. A princess out of legend. But still-she’s never been hunted. She has no experience, or real training, in the skills of eluding a thousand men through the forest and mountains.”
Kungas shook his head, forestalling the general’s question.
“It doesn’t matter. Even with Raghunath Rao to help her and guide her, she-” A pause. “You’ve hunted, I’m sure, in a large party. Or even with just one other man. Who sets the pace? Who frightens off the game? Who misses the shot?”
The general replied instantly: “The weakest man. The poorest hunter.”
Kungas nodded. “Exactly. So-well, if Raghunath Rao were alone, I believe he would outwit and escape his pursuers. But even for him, the task would be extraordinarily difficult, with such an immense number of hunters on his trail. Encumbered by the princess-” He shrugged again. “It is simply not possible. No, they will be caught.”
Kungas saw the general glance aside. He seemed to stiffen a bit. Perhaps.
Kungas followed his glance. The last members of the foreign party had arrived and were approaching their howdah. The young black prince from Ethiopia and his women.
Kungas had heard tales of the prince. His rampant lust; his viciousness toward his concubines. He had shrugged off the tales, for the most part. Resentful, malicious envy toward royalty and high nobility was so common as to make all such tales suspect.
But, as he watched, he decided that the tales were perhaps true, after all. The women certainly seemed fearful and abject. All of them were veiled and kept their heads down. Very submissive. None of their faces could even be seen, so timid were the wretched creatures. There were none of the flashing, excited, inquisitive gazes one normally saw from young girls embarking on a journey.
One woman’s face was partially visible to Kungas, now. She was weeping softly, comforted by a second woman who was holding her and guiding her along. The prince suddenly cuffed one of the other women on the back of her head. Then cuffed the last in the little group. Hurrying them aboard, out of royal petulance and impatience. Apparently, however, the prince’s temper was not particularly aroused. The young royal was massively built, if not tall. Wide-shouldered, thick-chested, extremely muscular. With that frame, his cuffs could have easily knocked the girls off their feet. Yet they barely seemed to nudge them.
One girl was hoisted up into the howdah, helped by the black soldier who was apparently serving as the mahout. Then another, the weeping one.
“They are all Maratha, I understand,” commented Kungas, making idle conversation.
The general nodded. “Yes, Prince Eon’s developed quite a taste for the breed. He has a whole gaggle of the creatures.” A little laugh. “I’m not sure how many, actually. Nobody can keep track.”
A third girl, the one who had been comforting the weeper, made ready to climb aboard. Smallish. Much darker-skinned than the average Maratha. Very lithe in her movements, too. Kungas admired the fluid grace with which the girl took the hand of the mahout, began the climb up the great elephant. Her bare foot stretched out A beautiful dancer. Such incredible grace. Lithe, fluid. And I was always struck by her feet. The prettiest feet I ever saw. Quicksilver. High-arched, slim-heeled, perfectly shaped toes.
The girl entered the howdah. The fourth and fifth girls followed. The prince went up last, drew the curtains behind him.
Kungas stood as rigid as a post. He could not help it. Neither that, nor his face. Like iron, his face, as always when he faced danger. Now, like carbon steel.
At his side, he sensed the general’s alertness. Behind, he could hear the slight sound of the general’s guards moving forward.
This may be the most dangerous moment in my entire life.
His had been a harsh existence, filled with hard decisions. Now, Kungas made the easiest decision he had ever made. And, he thought, perhaps the best-certainly the purest-in a generally misspent life. He took some pride, too, in the fact that his own survival played not the slightest role in making the decision.
Which doesn’t solve my immediate problem. Keeping from getting my throat slit. No point in trying to pretend-oh, no, not with this general. Not with those men behind me.
Besides A rare grin broke out on his face. (To Kungas, a grin. No one else would have called it that. A flaw in the iron, perhaps.)
“So many women. Well, we’ll certainly have to make sure that they’re well protected. I shall instruct my men to keep anyone from pestering the prince’s concubines. From even approaching the howdah, in fact. Or his tent, at night. He’s a prince, after all, bound to be full of royal pride. I’m sure he’d be outraged if anyone caught so much as a glimpse of his women.”
Kungas could sense the quick thoughts in the man next to him. A moment or so later, the general spoke. Still, a trace of hesitation in his voice.
“An excellent idea, I think. Of course, your own men-”
Kungas waved his hand casually. “Oh, I shall give them firm instructions to keep their own distance from the howdah. I’ll do the same myself, for that matter.”
The general’s face broke into an odd, crooked smile. If there had been a trace of hesitation, it seemed to vanish.
“That’ll be difficult for you and your men, I imagine. That sort of self-control around women.” An apologetic cough. “Given the Kushan reputation.”
Kungas frowned slightly. “Reputa-?”
The general laughed. “Oh, come now! Don’t deny it, Kungas. It’s well known. You can’t trust Kushans around women, particularly young women. Especially virgins. Not” — a chuckle- “that there are any virgins left in that howdah.”
Kungas was still frowning.
“Such an act!” admired the general. “But there’s no point in it, Kungas, I assure you. Not in this crowd. Why, I remember swapping a few amusing anecdotes with Venandakatra himself on the subject, during our journey from Bharakuccha. Although, now I think about it-my memory’s a bit vague, I’m afraid. I was quite drunk, that evening. But-um, yes, now that I think about it, I seem to recall that I was telling all the stories. Odd, actually. It all seemed to come to the great lord as quite a revelation.”