An Oblique Approach by David Drake and Eric Flint

“Magic weapons, indeed,” grunted Belisarius. “We’ve had no luck duplicating them.”

Irene looked at the general’s wife.

“Belisarius is being too pessimistic,” said Antonina. “We’ve only just gotten started in that work. It’s only been a few months since we first encountered the jewel ourselves. It’s taken that long to get established on the estate which Cassian gave us. John of Rhodes has been in residence now for only three months, and the workshop has barely been set up.” She shook her head firmly. “So, under the circumstances, I think it’s much too early to make any clear assessment of our success in duplicating the Malwa weapons.”

“Has the jewel been of any help?” asked Sittas.

Belisarius shook his head. “No, not in that regard. I can sense that it’s trying, but—it is very difficult for the thing to communicate with me, except through visions. And those aren’t very useful when it comes to weaponry.” Strangely, he grinned. “As a rule, I should say. However—we must have a joust soon, Sittas!”

His enormous friend sneered. “Why? I’ll just knock you on your ass like I always do. Shrimp.”

Belisarius grinned evilly. “You’re in for a surprise, large one. The jewel has succeeded in giving me one simple new device. Simple, but I guarantee it will revolutionize the cavalry.”

Sittas looked skeptical. “What is it? A magic lance?”

“Oh, nothing that elaborate. Just a simple little gadget called stirrups.” He grinned again, very evilly. “By all means. A joust—and soon!”

Belisarius turned back to Irene. “Where does the Malwa conquest of south India stand now?”

Irene frowned. “I really don’t know. As of my last report, which was three months ago, the Malwa had just begun their siege of the Andhra capital.” She paused, estimating time factors. “Given that the report itself probably took months to get here, I would assume the siege began approximately a year ago. Apparently, it’s expected to be a long siege. The Andhra capital is reported to be well fortified. It’s located at a place called—” She hesitated, looked away, again trying to bring up the information.

“It is located at a place called Amavarati,” said Belisarius. The general continued, seeming for all the world, like a man possessed by a vision. “In a short while the palace will fall to the Malwa. Within the palace is a young princess named Shakuntala. She will be the only survivor of the dynasty. She will be captured and taken north to the palace of a high Malwa official, destined to be his concubine. A man will be lying in the reeds outside, wounded. His name is Raghunath Rao. When he recovers from his wounds, he will go north himself, tracking the princess and her captors. He will find her at the palace, but will be unable to rescue her in time. Before he can do so, the owner of the palace will return from some mission he was sent on by the Malwa emperor. He will die then, as will the princess.”

Belisarius clenched his teeth, remembering another man’s hatred.

“The Vile One, that official is called. Venandakatra. Venandakatra the Vile.”

Irene shot to her feet. “Venandakatra?” she demanded. “You are sure of that name?”

Belisarius stared at her. “Quite sure. It is a name burned into my memory. Why?”

“He’s here! In Constantinople!”

* * *

When the uproar which followed Irene’s announcement subsided, Belisarius resumed his seat.

“So that’s the mysterious mission Venandakatra was sent on,” murmured Belisarius.

“This doesn’t make sense,” complained Sittas. “I’ve met the fellow myself, by the way. At one of the endless receptions at the Great Palace. A greasy sort, he struck me. But I spent no time with him. He presented himself as simply a modest envoy seeking to expand trading opportunities with Rome.” Sittas waved his hand airily. “Not my interest, that sort of thing.”

Irene snorted. “Just the money that comes from it.”

Sittas grinned. “Well, yes. I believe my family does have a small interest in the Indian trade.”

“They control at least a fourth of it,” retorted Irene. “If not more. Your family are no slouches themselves when it comes to keeping secrets.”

Again, the airy wave of the hand. “Yes, yes, no doubt. But I leave that business to my innumerable cousins. The point I was trying to make, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that this Venandakatra sounds like far too powerful an official to be sent on such a paltry mission. Are you sure we’re talking about the same man? The name Venandakatra, after all, might be quite common in India.”

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