Lady Sati shrugged. “It’s a simple enough matter.” She leaned toward the Emperor. “Bestow great honors on Damodara, Skandagupta. And riches. Hold a ceremony within a week. Among those riches will be a mansion here at the capital. Very near to this palace.” She smiled, thinly. “Among those honors will be the expectation that Damodara’s entire family will take up residence therein. And stay there.”
Skandagupta squinted; then, smiled his own thin humor. “Hostages. Yes. That should do nicely. Damodara dotes on his children.”
Still, Nanda Lal seemed unhappy. But, after a moment, he shook off the mood. His next words were almost cheerful: “Venandakatra’s siege guns should be arriving at Deogiri very soon. Within two weeks, three at the most.”
“Finally!” exclaimed the emperor. His eyes narrowed. “That should do for Raghunath Rao. I look forward to seeing his skinsack suspended in my feast hall.” Fat folded further; the eyes became mere slits. “And Shakuntala’s. I will hang her right next to her father.”
“Shakuntala will take a bit of time,” cautioned Sati. “Even after we take Deogiri.”
She looked to Nanda Lal. “We must tighten the blockade of Suppara. Make sure the rebel empress does not make her escape.”
The spymaster scowled. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. We don’t have the naval forces available—not with Axum to contend with.”
“A pity,” muttered Skandagupta, “that we didn’t catch Prince Eon with the rest.” He shrugged. “But I don’t see where it matters. Even if Shakuntala escapes after we take Deogiri, where can she go? Only to Ethiopia, or Rome. Where she will be nothing but an impoverished exile.”
The emperor nodded toward Sati. “Just as Link said, long ago. Without Majarashtra, Shakuntala is nothing but a nuisance.”
Sati nodded grudging agreement. “True. Although I would prefer to see her flayed.”
“Whatever we do,” sneered Nanda Lal, “we certainly won’t make the mistake of handing her over to Venandakatra again. Dead—or exiled. That’s it.”
The spymaster reached up and stroked his nose. As always, the feel of that crushed and mangled proboscis stirred his fury. Belisarius had done for that.
Since there was no way, at present, to vent his feelings for Belisarius, Nanda Lal transferred his cold rage elsewhere. “One last point,” he snarled, “before we end this meeting. The rebel bands in Bihar and Bengal are growing bolder. I recommend—”
“More impalings!” snapped the emperor. “Line every road with the bandits!”
“I agree,” chimed in Great Lady Sati. “The male ones, anyway. Better to turn their women over to the soldiers, before auctioning them to the whoremasters. Add defilement to destruction. That will cow the peasants.”
Nanda Lal’s snarl of fury slid into something resembling a leer. “Not enough,” he demurred. “It’s too hard to catch the bandits in the forests.”
He bestowed the leer on the emperor. “Since all the news is good—Belisarius defeated; Deogiri about to fall—I see no reason that half your Imperial Guard can’t be released for a campaign.”
The emperor smiled. Grinned. “Excellent idea! The Ye-tai are getting restless, anyway, from garrison duty here in Kausambi. A campaign in Bihar and Bengal would do them good.”
Skandagupta leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. “What do you have in mind? A punitive campaign, right through the countryside?” He barked a laugh. “Yes! Sweep everything, like a knife. Cut a swath twenty miles wide—from Pataliputra to the Bay of Bengal. The hell with hunting for bandits! Just burn everything, kill everyone.” Another barked laugh. “Except the women, of course. My Ye-tai will have a better use for those.”
Nanda Lal leaned forward to match gazes with the emperor. “I was thinking of two swaths, actually. One—just as you say—starting at Pataliputra. The other—”
There came a knock on the door. Nanda Lal paused. One of the assassins opened the door and peered through. A moment later, he turned to the emperor and announced: “Sire, your lunch is here.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Skandagupta. “Excellent.” He smacked his hands together. “Let us eat. We can develop our plans over the meal.”
“Food will sustain us,” concurred Sati. “This will be a long session.”
Nanda Lal’s leer returned. “Yes—but the discussion will season the meal. I like my food hot and spicy.”