In the Heart of Darkness by Eric Flint & David Drake

Dawning comprehension, still faint. Sanga put it as simply as possible:

“My Lords. Great Emperor. You can, if you choose, bait a tiger in a cage to see if he has claws. If you do so, however, make sure to use a long stick.”

All the officials laughed, now, except Venandakatra. Venandakatra began to bestow a baleful glare upon the Rajput until, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the Emperor was laughing also. Rana Sanga, fascinated despite himself, watched the struggle on Venandakatra’s face between instinctive malice and calculating self-interest.

Self-interest won. Venandakatra joined in the laughter, and made a small self-deprecating gesture. Then he arose and said:

“I agree with Rana Sanga. Many times I have told you of this man’s mettle. Perhaps now you will listen.” Again, the little self-deprecating gesture. “I should have listened to my voice, myself. I fear I allowed your skepticism to infect me.”

His little laugh now had more substance, having scored his own point. Venandakatra smiled ruefully, nodded graciously at the Rajput, and said:

“My thanks, Rana Sanga, for reminding me of the dangers of tiger-baiting. I assure you, next time I will use a very long stick.”

It was a dismissal. Relieved, Sanga began to turn away. Then, reminding himself of his own honor, he turned back.

I swore an oath.

“I must also say that—”

“That’s enough, Sanga!” snapped Lord Tathagata. The Malwa commander had enjoyed Venandakatra’s discomfiture, but—the fellow was a mere Rajput, when all was said and done.

Sanga stood motionless.

“Enough,” growled Tathagata.

Sanga shrugged, ever so slightly, prostrated himself again before the Emperor, and resumed his seat toward the rear.

Tathagata began to speak, but Damodara interrupted.

“Might I suggest, noble Malwa, that we take a short break for refreshment? We are all a bit fatigued.”

Tathagata glanced at the Emperor. Skandagupta nodded, made a gesture.

“Very well. We will resume in an hour.”

Outside the pavilion, where he had stepped for a breath of air, Sanga was shortly joined by Damodara.

“Tell me,” commanded the Malwa lord.

Sanga sighed. He had been half-hoping that Damodara would ask. And half-dreading it.

I swore an oath.

“Speak bluntly, Sanga. You need not fear repercussions. Not from me.”

The Rajput stared down at the short, plump officer. By Malwa standards, Damodara was young for a top commander. In his late thirties, perhaps. But, like all members of the dynasty destined by birth for high command, he was no warrior. Still—

I swore an oath.

“Venandakatra has completely misunderstood Beli­sarius, Lord Damodara. This entire discussion”—he gestured toward the pavilion—“is a farce.”

Damodara was frowning. Not with anger, simply concentration.

“Explain.”

“There is not the slightest chance that Belisarius will betray Rome.”

Damodara’s eyes widened. He took a half-step back. Sanga drove on.

“He is playing Venandakatra for a fool. He has no intention of giving his allegiance to Malwa. He is simply insinuating himself into our graces as far as possible, in order to steal as many of our secrets as he can before returning to Rome.”

Damodara looked away, tugging thoughtfully on his beard.

“You think—how do you know? Has he said anything to you?”

Sanga shook his head. “It’s nothing that he’s ever said. But I know that man, Lord Damodara. Treason is not within his nature.”

Damodara bestowed a quick, shrewd glance at Sanga. For all his Malwa upbringing, he knew something of the Rajput code. He did not share that code—no Malwa did—but, unlike most, he at least understood it. Damodara’s lips quirked.

“Yet, by your own words, you say that Belisarius would not stoop to the work of menials. Now you claim that a general is willing to act as a spy.”

Sanga shrugged. “His honor is not the same as mine—as ours. I do not know Romans well, but enough to know that they place less emphasis on the form of honor than they do on its content. They are heathens, after all, who have no understanding of purity and pollution. But even heathens can have honor.”

Damodara was silent for a moment, gazing away, thinking. Then:

“Still—do you really think a great general would stoop so low, simply for the sake of spying? It’s true, we have the secret of the Veda weapons. But I do not see where he has been able to learn much. We have been very careful. As you know—it is your own charge.”

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