Again, Belisarius clapped him on the shoulder.
“Besides, man—cheer up. We should be getting a new supply of gunpowder and rockets from Callinicum. Good Roman powder and rockets, too, not that Malwa crap. A big supply. I sent orders calling for every pound of gunpowder available. We’ve got more demolition work ahead of us. Lots more.”
Basil grimaced.
Belisarius, understanding that grimace, made a little mental wince of his own.
I hope. If the usual screw-ups with logistics aren’t worse than normal.
But there was no point in brooding on that matter, so he changed the subject.
“What’s your opinion on security?” he asked.
Basil’s face cleared up instantly.
“It’s beautiful, sir. Between Abbu and our scouts, and Kurush and his Persians, I don’t think a lizard could get within ten miles of here without being spotted.”
From their vantage point on top of what remained of the ancient dam, the cataphract pointed down at the Nehar Malka. “The Malwa have no idea what we’re doing here. I’m sure of it. The one thing I was worried about was that the Kushans might try to sneak out a few of their men to warn the Malwa down at Babylon. No way to do that in the daytime, of course, but I had Abbu maintain full patrols at night and he swears—swears—that no Kushan ever tried to—”
“No,” interrupted Belisarius, shaking his head firmly. “That wouldn’t—how can I say it?—that wouldn’t be something the Kushans would do.”
Basil’s brow creased in a frown. “Why not? Vasu-deva’s oath was that they wouldn’t try a rebellion—or a mass breakout. He never swore that he wouldn’t send a few men to report back.”
Belisarius looked away. It was his turn to hesitate, now. He was as certain of his understanding of the Kushans as he was of anything in the world, but to explain it to Basil would require—
Aide broke through the quandary.
Tell him.
Belisarius almost started.
You are sure of this, Aide?
Tell him. As much, at least, as you need to. It will not matter, Belisarius. Even if he talks, so what? By now, Link will have deduced my presence in this world. At the very least, it will do so very soon. Much sooner than any loose talk among Roman troops could ever find its way to the ears of Malwa spies. Secrecy about me is not so important, anymore. Not as important, certainly, as the trust of your subordinate officers.
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.