Irene grinned. She didn’t doubt the claim. The young empress’ mind had been trained by the same man who shaped her body. Shakuntala probably had memorized every page.
“And thank you for everything else,” the empress whispered. “I am forever in your debt.”
* * *
As Irene ushered Shakuntala to the door, the empress snickered.
“What’s so funny?”
“You will be,” predicted the empress. “Very soon.”
They were at the door. Irene cocked her head quizzically.
Shakuntala’s smile was very sweet. Like honey, used for bait.
“You know Kungas,” she murmured. “Such a stubborn and dedicated man. But I convinced him I really wouldn’t need a bodyguard tonight. I certainly won’t need one after tomorrow, with Rao sharing my bed.”
Irene was gaping when the empress slipped out the door. She was still gaping when Kungas slipped in.
* * *
He spotted the scented oils right away, resting on a shelf against the wall. “Don’t think we’ll need those,” he mused. “Not tonight, for sure.”
Then, catching sight of the book resting on the table, he ambled over and examined the open page.
“Not a chance,” he pronounced. “Maybe you, Irene, slim as you are. But me?” He pointed to the illustration. “You think you could get a thick barbarian like me to—”
But Irene had reached him, by then, and he spoke no further words. Not for quite some time.
* * *
Irene liked surprises, but she got none that night. She had long known Kungas would be the best lover she ever had.
“By far,” she whispered, hours later. Her leg slid over him, treasuring the moisture.
“I told you we wouldn’t need oils,” he whispered in reply.
They laughed, sharing that great joy also. But Irene, lifting her head and gazing down at Kungas, knew a greater one yet.
The mask was gone, without a trace. The open face that smiled up at her was simply that of a man in love. Her man.
Chapter 36
CHARAX
Autumn, 532 a.d.
“I don’t understand what that monster is doing,” snarled Coutzes. He ducked below the broken wall as another volley of arrows came sailing from the Malwa troops dug into a shattered row of buildings across the street. The arrows clattered harmlessly into another room of what had once been an artisan’s shop. A leather worker, judging by the few tools and scraps of raw material which were still lying about.
Belisarius, his back comfortably propped against the same wall, raised a questioning eyebrow.
Coutzes jabbed his finger at the wall, pointing to the unseen enemy beyond. “What’s the point of this, General? That thing is just throwing soldiers away. You watch. They’ll fire one or two more volleys of arrows—none of which’ll hit anything, except by blind luck—lob some grenades, and then charge across the street. We’ll butcher ’em, they’ll withdraw, and then they’ll do it again. By the time we finally have to retreat to the next row, they’ll be moving forward across hundreds of bodies as well as rubble.”
The Thracian officer rubbed his face, smearing sweat and grime. “It’s been like this for two weeks now. Our own casualties haven’t really been that heavy. At this rate, it’ll take them another month—at least!—to fight their way to the docks. And they’ll have lost half their army—at least!—in the doing.”
The scowl was back in full force. “I’ve heard of crude tactics, but this—?” For a moment, his youthful face was simply aggrieved. “I thought that thing was supposed to be superintelligent.”
Belisarius smiled. The smile was crooked, but there was more of contempt in it than irony. “Link is superintelligent, Coutzes. But intelligence is always guided by the soul. Which Link has, whether it realizes it or not. Or, at least, it is the faithful servant of the new gods, and their souls.”
Belisarius craned his head, staring up at the broken stones above him. “Those—” He blew out a sharp breath, like a dry spit. “Those divine pigs don’t view people as human. Their soldiers are just tools. So many paving blocks on the road to human perfection. They look on a human life the same way you or I look on a blade. File the worn metal away, in order to get a sharp edge. And if the scrapings shriek with pain, who cares?”