The Pathan turned away. To those who did not know him, his callous attitude was appalling. To those who did know him, it was considerably worse.
“Wait again. Next courier.” He pointed to one of the bodies in the livery of the royal courier service.
“No torture. No need. He tell, die.”
He pointed to the third courier.
“Last one. No torture. No need. He tell, die.”
The Pathan glanced at the far door, which led to the corral where the spare horses were kept. Had been kept.
“Then put courier horses to corral. Tired horses. No good. Take all other horses. Fed, rested. Five horses. Good horses. Leave.”
Finished with his report, the tracker planted his hands on hips and surveyed the entire scene.
“Very fine man!” grunted the tracker. “Quick, quick. No stupidityness. Would adopt into own clan.”
Sanga allowed his subordinates to digest the information a moment, before continuing.
“Never make that mistake again,” he growled. “That Malwa mistake. He is not a cruel man, Belisarius. Of that I am quite certain. But no mahamimamsa who ever lived can match him for ruthlessness when he needs to be. The man is as quick and shrewd as a mongoose. And just as deadly. How much mercy does a mongoose give a cobra?”
Jaimal grunted. Sanga drove on:
“There’s another lesson. He is not a devil, but he has a devil’s way of thinking. Consider how bold and cunning this move was. After his men created a diversion and led all of us on a wild goose chase, Belisarius marched out of Kausambi—openly—disguised as a Ye-tai.” He cast a cold eye sideways. “Three guesses how he got the Ye-tai’s uniform, Udai?”
His lieutenant winced, looked away. Sanga grated on:
“Then he came as fast as possible to the first relay station. He was out-thinking us every step of the way. He had two problems: first, no horses; second, he knew couriers would be sent to alert the garrisons on the coast. He solved both problems at one stroke.”
“Killed the soldiers, ambushed the couriers, stole their horses,” muttered Jaimal. “The best horses in India.”
“Five of them,” added Pratap. “He has remounts, as many as he needs. He can drive the horses for as long as he can stay in the saddle. Switch whenever his mount gets tired.”
“How could he be sure the bodies wouldn’t be found soon?” complained Udai. “Then the hunt would be up.”
Sanga frowned. “I don’t know. The man’s intelligence is uncanny—in the military sense of the term, as well. He seems to know everything about us. Outside of the Ganges plain, this trick wouldn’t have worked. Because of banditry, all relay stations in the western provinces are manned by full platoons and checked by patrol. But here—”
“These aren’t even regular army troops,” snorted Pratap. “Provincial soldiers. Unmarried men. They’re stationed here for two year stretches. Even grow their own food.”
The Rajput stared down at the hideous mound.
“Poor bastards,” he said softly. “I stopped at one of these relay stations, once. The men—boys—were so ecstatic to see a new face they kept me talking all night.” He glanced at the Pathan. “Like he says, sheep to the slaughter.” Then, hissing fury: “Roman butcher.”
Sanga said nothing. He felt that rage himself. But, unlike Pratap, did not let the rage blind his memory. He had seen other men lying in such heaps. Men just like these—young, lonely, inattentive. Soldiers in name only. They, too, had been like sheep at the hands of a butcher.
A butcher named Rana Sanga. Against whose experienced cunning and lightning sword they had stood no chance at all.
“We’ll never catch him now,” groaned Udai.
“We will try,” stated Sanga. His tone was like steel.
Then, with a bit of softness:
“It is not impossible, comrades. Not for Rajputs. He is still only one man, with well over a thousand miles to travel. He will need to rest, to eat—to find food to eat.”
“One man alone,” added Jaimal, “disguised as a Ye-tai, possibly. Leading several horses. People will notice him.”
“Yes. He will be able to travel faster than we can, on any single day. And he begins with many days headstart. But he cannot keep it up, day after day, the way an entire cavalry troop can do. We can requisition food and shelter. He cannot. He must scrounge it up. That takes time, every day. And there are many days ahead of him. Many days, before he reaches the coast. He may become injured, or sick. With no comrades to care for him. If nothing else, he will become very weary.”