Another breath. A deep breath.
“Well, that time may be here. We have to assume that it is.”
He scanned the room. Everyone’s face was grim, but not distraught. Except, possibly, for Menander. The young cataphract’s face was pale from fear. Not fear for himself, but for his general.
“Do you have a plan?” asked Anastasius.
Eon shrugged. “Belisarius discussed some possible alternatives. You heard them yourself. But none of those alternatives really apply, since Belisarius himself may not be able to join us. So we’ll have to improvise.”
He stared at Shakuntala.
“The first thing is to make sure she gets out safely. Kungas, you and your men will escort the Empress and her women.”
The Kushans nodded.
Eon glanced around the room, examining the treasure chests. “Good. You’re already prepared.”
Anastasius interrupted. “They’ll have to take the Kushan girls, too. If the general’s in a trap, we’ll need to make one hell of a diversion. We won’t be able to do it with the girls in tow.”
“That’s not a problem,” stated Kungas. “We can fit them in as camp followers. No one will think it odd.”
Eon nodded his head. “All right. The rest of us—except Dadaji—will be the lure. Dadaji, you’ll have to go with the Empress.”
Eon drove down Holkar’s protest.
“You are not thinking, man! Forget your obligation to Belisarius, and remember your obligation to his purpose. The only way to get Shakuntala out of here is by subterfuge. A young noblewoman would never travel through India unaccompanied. Someone has to pose as her husband. It can’t be one of us. Only Valentinian looks enough like an Indian, and his accent is terrible. You’re the only one who could pull it off.”
Holkar opened his mouth, snapped it shut. Then, grudgingly, nodded. He even recaptured his sense of humor. “With your permission, Your Majesty.”
Shakuntala nodded imperiously, but there was just a little trace of a smile on her lips.
“I’ll need a change of clothes,” murmured Holkar. “A loincloth simply won’t do.” He chuckled. “How fortunate that Belisarius made me buy those clothes! Is he a fortune-teller, do you think?”
Valentinian shook his head. “No. But he does like to plan for all eventualities. Cover all the angles.”
“Such mechanistic nonsense,” said Ousanas cheerfully. “The truth is quite otherwise. Belisarius is a witch himself. Fortunately, he is our witch.”
Valentinian ignored the quip. “Anything else?” he demanded.
“Yes,” said Kungas. “You will need a guide.” He pointed to Kujulo. “Kujulo is very familiar with the Deccan, and his Marathi is fluent. Three or four other of my men are also. Take all of them with you. You will need the added manpower, anyway. Yours will be the bloody road.”
Kujulo grinned. Eon frowned.
“We can’t have any hint that Kushans are involved,” he protested. “That could jeopardize the Empress.”
Kungas waved the protest aside. “They can disguise themselves as Ye-tai. Kujulo does an excellent imitation.”
Immediately, Kujulo stooped, thrust out his lower jaw, slumped his shoulders, allowed a vacant look to enter his gaze, grunted animal noises. A little laugh swept the room.
There was no time for hesitation. Eon nodded. Then said:
“Fine. That’s it, then. Let’s—”
“No.”
The imperial tone froze everyone in the room. Eon began to glare at Shakuntala.
“We’ve already—”
“No.”
Valentinian tried. “Your Majesty, our plans—”
“No.”
Before anyone else could speak, Shakuntala said forcefully:
“You are not thinking clearly. None of you.”
Eon: “The general—”
“You are especially not thinking like the general.”
Valentinian, hotly: “Of course we’re thinking of him! But there’s nothing—” The cataphract stopped abruptly. Shakuntala’s actual words penetrated.
Her piercing black eyes, fixed upon him, held Valentinian pinned.
“Yes,” she said. “You are not thinking like Belisarius. If he were faced with a sudden change in his situation, he would alter the situation. Add a new angle.”
“What angle?” demanded Eon.
Shakuntala grinned. “We need another diversion. A great one! Something which can serve to signal all of us—we will be separated, remember—that the escape is on. A diversion so great it will not only help cover our own escape, but make it possible—maybe—for Belisarius himself to escape.”
“I’m for it!” announced Menander. With a shrug: “Whatever it is.”