"Nice to see you again," he said, pouring Belisarius a drink. "I'd worry about you getting drunk, except you can drink like a fish and this stuff's so thin it doesn't matter anyway. Best I could find."
Smiling, Belisarius squatted and took the cup. "I'm delighted to see you-and surprised. You took a mighty gamble, coming here from the Hindu Kush."
Kungas made the little shoulder twitch that did him for a shrug. "I figured you'd be here, somewhere. And since I'm a Kushan king, I need to prove I'm a great gambler or I'll soon enough have people muttering that I'm unfit to rule. Most of all, though, I want to see that bitch finally dead."
Belisarius swallowed the wine in one gulp. It was not a big gulp, however, since it was a very small cup.
Just as well. The stuff was wretched as well as thin. Exactly the sort of wine you'd expect to find in a poor fishing village.
The face he made, though, was not due to the wine.
"Then I hate to say this, but you're in for a big disappointment. The one thing we're not going to do is kill Great Lady Sati."
Kungas' eyes widened slightly. In his minimalist manner, that signified astonishment.
"Why in the world not?" Accusingly, almost plaintively, he added: "You killed her predecessor, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. And I will say that few things in my life gave me more satisfaction than seeing Great Lady Holi die. But that was another place, another time, and under different circumstances. Here, and now, we want Sati simply isolated-but still alive."
He set the cup down on the floor. "That was a battle. This is the battle. More accurately, this is a holding action while the final battle is fought elsewhere, by Damodara."
Kungas tugged at his wisp of a goatee. "Um. You're gambling yourself."
"Yes and no. I'm not gambling-well, not much of a gamble-that Damodara will have reached Kausambi by now. What I'm gambling is simply that it will take him some time to break into the city. I've seen those defenses. Nothing in the world matches them, except possibly the ancient fortifications at Babylon."
The Kushan king's beard-tugging became more vigorous. "Damnation, Belisarius. ."
The Roman general just waited, patiently. The best way to persuade Kungas of anything was to let him persuade himself. Beneath that impassive exterior, the Kushan was as smart as anyone Belisarius had ever known-and he was privy to all the secrets of Link's methods of rule. Belisarius had briefed Kungas and Irene extensively on the matter, before they left Constantinople on their great expedition to the Hindu Kush.
"Damnation," Kungas repeated. But the word, this time, was simply said fatalistically.
Belisarius waited. The Kushan's hand fell from the beard.
"All right. I understand the logic. As long as the bitch is alive, Link is locked into her body. Here-not in Kausambi. The minute she dies, Link will assume a new sheath. This new one in the imperial palace, so it will be able to take direct command of Kausambi's defenses. Instead of Skandagupta, whom no one in his right mind has ever considered a military genius. Or even a very competent emperor."
"Exactly."
"Who?" Kungas wondered. "And how many sheaths does that monster have at its disposal?"
Good question. Aide?
Belisarius could sense the jewel's hesitation. Not sure. It's complicated.
Try to explain, as best you can. We need to know.
After a moment, Aide said: It's not easy for it. Link, I mean. First of all, the sheath has to be female-never mind why-and, second of all, it has to be in the line of the dynastic clan. That's because. . well, never mind that, either. Just take my word for it. There's a critical genetic component to the process. Several, in fact. Close blood relations are important.
Belisarius nodded. To Kungas, he said: "Aide's explaining it to me. Give us a moment."
Third, the sheath itself has to be individually suitable. Not every girl is. Most aren't, in fact-and there are only a small number to choose from in the first place, being restricted to the female offspring of the dynastic clan. She has to be. . The word won't mean anything to you, but it's something the future will call "autism." It's a pretty rare medical condition. Not very many children suffer from it.
Belisarius didn't bother asking Aide to explain the terms. Some day, he would, but there wasn't the need for it now, or the time available.
He did purse his lips with distaste. Contempt, rather. That was absolutely typical of the methods of the "new gods" who claimed to be humanity's true future. They would not only use innocent children as the vessels for their rule, but would choose ones already damaged and even less able to protect themselves.
I see. The Malwa dynastic clan is a big one, but still. .
There'd only be one available every few years. It would vary, of course. The long span of years between Holi's age and Sati's would have been unusual. Even so, I doubt if Link has more than two-maybe three-sheaths available. Not even that, really, because they need years of training in addition to everything else. The moment of transition-possession, if you will-is pretty traumatic. If the girl isn't thoroughly prepared for it, she'll simply die.
A thought came to Belisarius. If that's so. . What if the new sheath is very young? It might actually be smarter. .
He shook his head. "No, that's too much of a gamble."
Kungas twisted his head, quizzically. Belisarius explained: "There can't be many sheaths. Maybe only one-and she might very well still be a young girl. If so. ."
He almost laughed, seeing the suddenly fierce expression on the Kushan's face.
"Tempting, isn't it, Kungas? What happens if the Malwa empire is suddenly ruled by a child? Will anyone-even Skandagupta-really listen to her?"
After a moment, Kungas expelled his breath. "No. As you say, too much of a gamble-even for a Kushan. What if she isn't? Sati was in her prime, after all, when she became the new Link."
What was too much of a gamble, even for a Kushan king, was not for a cyborg.
Not, at least, for this cyborg. Kungas and Belisarius had options. Link no longer did.
The Khmer had finished their rituals.
"Now," the thing known as Great Lady Sati commanded.
Expertly, the assassin standing behind her drove his dagger into Sati's spinal column. Just as expertly, the assassin standing before her drove his blade into her heart.
As her body slumped, a third assassin stepped forward and-with the same expertise-slit her throat from ear to ear.
A priest was there with a large bowl, to catch the sacred fluid. There was little spillage, since the goddess' heart was no longer beating.
That was good, because the blood was needed for the remaining rituals.
Those rituals done, the assassins slew all the priests but one. Then, slew themselves.
Being careful, even at the end, to keep the gore as minimal as possible.
That was not because of the needs of the rituals; which, to the contrary, normally put the gore to extensive use. But the goddess had ordered it all done quietly and economically.
Following the usual rituals would have permeated the chaundoli with a stench that the soldiers outside would have noticed almost immediately. As it was, in the heat of garam, they would notice it soon enough. Link wanted this army intact as long as possible, to keep Belisarius distracted.
The sole surviving priest remained at his duty. Simply sitting by the door to the chaundoli, that he might tell inquiring officers that the Great Lady was asleep and had given orders not to be disturbed.