Belisarius sighed-with immense relief. He had always believed that his success as a general, as much as anything, rested on his ability to build a team around him. The need to keep Aide's presence a secret had cut across his most basic nature and instincts as a leader.
He was glad to be done with it.
Of course, came the firm thought, that doesn't mean you have to turn into a babbling babe.
Belisarius, smiling, turned back to the cataphract standing next to him. "I am-sometimes-blessed with visions of the future, Basil."
The Thracian soldier's eyes widened. But not much, Belisarius noted.
"You are not surprised?"
Basil shrugged. "No, sir. Not really. Nobody talks, mind you. But I'm not stupid. I've noticed how Maurice-and Valentinian and Anastasius, for that matter-get very close-mouthed about certain things. Like exactly how you got the secret of gunpowder from the Malwa-and somehow managed to get it to Antonina in time for her to build a whole secret little army in Syria before you even got back. And exactly what happened-or didn't happen-in India. And exactly how it was that you were so sure that the Malwa would be our enemy, when nobody else ever gave India more than two thoughts. And why did Michael of Macedonia-Michael of Macedonia? — wind up such a close friend of a general? And just exactly-"
Belisarius held up his hand, laughing. "Enough!"
He glanced around. He and Basil were quite alone on top of the dam. The nearest Roman soldiers were the small cavalry escort waiting patiently at its base. No Persians could be seen in the vicinity-and there was nowhere to hide, anyway, except in the reeds which lined the Euphrates. The nearest clump of such reeds was thirty yards away. Much too distant for any eyes to see the small thing which Belisarius drew out of a pouch handing from his neck.
He cupped Aide in his hands, sheltered from sight. Basil leaned over, awestruck.
"Michael of Macedonia brought this to me," said Belisarius softly. "Over three years ago, now. He calls it the Talisman of God."
"It is so beautiful," whispered Basil. "I've never seen anything so wondrous."
"It is a marvel. It is a messenger from the future, who came to warn us of the Malwa danger. It did so by giving me a vision of the future which Malwa would bring to the world."
He paused, letting Basil absorb the shimmering glory of the facets. "Later, I will tell you all of what I saw, in that future. Indeed-"
He hesitated. Aide spoke.
Yes. It is time.
"I will tell all of you. All of the army commanders. It is time, now. But, for the moment-"
He spoke gently, then, for a few minutes. Telling the cataphract Basil of the vision he had received, once, of a princess held in captivity by the Malwa. Held for them, by a Kushan vassal named Kungas. And he told how, in that future, the Kushan named Kungas had held his tongue when a Malwa lord had entered his chamber to take possession of his new concubine. Had not warned the great lord that his new concubine was an assassin. And how that lord had died, in that future, because a Kushan had his own harsh concept of honor.
And then he told of how, in the future which Belisarius had created, that same Kushan had held his tongue, once again. Held it, and said nothing to his Malwa masters, when he realized that the Romans were smuggling the girl out of captivity.
"And where is he today, this Kungas?" asked Basil.
Belisarius slipped Aide back into his pouch.
"Today, the Kushan named Kungas-along with all of his men-are the personal bodyguard of the Empress Shakuntala. The heir of Satavahana. Rightful ruler of great Andhra."
Basil looked up, startled. His eyes flashed south, looking toward the distant encampment of the Kushan captives.
"You think-?"
Belisarius shrugged.
"Who knows? Kungas is an unusual man. But in some things, I believe all Kushans are much alike. They have their own notions of loyalty, and duty. They are Malwa vassals, and have served them faithfully. But I do not think they bear any great love for their masters. None at all, in fact."
He turned away, and began climbing down the dam.
"Most of all," he added, over his shoulder, "they have their own peculiar sense of humor. Very wry. Rather on the grim side, too. But they cherish it quite deeply."
At the bottom of the slope, he waited for Basil to join him. Once he had done so, Belisarius grinned.
"I'm counting on that sense of humor, you see. The Kushans wouldn't warn the Malwa of what we're doing. God, no-it would spoil a great joke."
That night, in the gloom of his little tent, Vasudeva leaned over and filled Belisarius' cup.
"Good wine," he said. "Not enough, of course. The Persians are stingy. But-good. Good."
He and Belisarius drained their cups. Vasudeva smiled.
"We like to gamble, you know. So we have a great bet going. All the Kushans have taken sides." He shrugged modestly. "We have not much to wager, of course, being war captives. But it is always the spirit of a wager which is exciting, not the stakes."
He refilled Belisarius' cup. Again, he and the general drained their wine. When they lowered their cups, Belisarius stated:
"You are wagering over whether I will succeed. In my plan to drain the Euphrates dry and leave the Malwa stranded at Babylon without supplies."
Vasudeva sneered. Waved his hand in a curt, dismissive little gesture. "Bah! What Kushan would be so stupid as to bet on that?"
He refilled the cups, again. Brought his own to his lips; but, before, drinking, added with a little smile: "No, no, Belisarius. We are betting on what you will do afterward."
Belisarius managed to drain his cup without choking. Vasudeva's smile became a grin.
"Oh, yes," murmured the Kushan commander. "That's the real question."
He drained his own cup.
Vasudeva held up the amphora, in a questioning gesture. Belisarius shook his head, placing his hand over his cup.
"No, thank you. I've had enough. Tomorrow will be a busy day."
As he stoppered the wine jug, Vasudeva grimaced. "Please! We will be doing most of the busy-ness. And in that miserable sun!"
Belisarius rose, stooping in the low shelter provided by the simple tent. Vasudeva rose with him. Much shorter, he did not need to stoop.
The Kushan's little smile returned. "Still-that's the way it is. Really good jokes always take a lot of work."
Outside the tent, in the quiet air of the Kushan encampment, Valentinian and Anastasius were waiting with the horses. Quickly, Belisarius mounted.
Vasudeva had come out of his tent to see the Roman general off. From other tents nearby, Belisarius could see other Kushans watching. For a moment, he and the Kushan commander stared at each other.
"Why did you come tonight, Belisarius?" asked Vasudeva suddenly. "You asked me nothing."
The general smiled, very crookedly. "There was no need, Vasudeva. I simply wanted to know if Kushans still had their sense of humor."
Vasudeva did not match that smile with one of his own. In the moonlit darkness, his hard face grew harder still.
"It is all that is left to us, Roman. When men have little, they keep what they have in a tight fist."
Belisarius nodded. He clucked his horse into motion. Valentinian and Anastasius followed on their own mounts, trailing a few yards behind.
"Yes, they do," he murmured softly to himself. "Yes, they do. Until finally, when they have nothing left, they realize-" His words trailed into a mutter.
"What did he say?" whispered Anastasius, leaning over his saddle.
Valentinian's face was sour. "He said that damned stupid business about only the soul mattering, in the end."