Damodara shrugged, as a bull might twitch off annoying and meaningless insects. His finger was busy tracing a route for his Pathan trackers through the Vindhyas, where they might serve to give advance warning of any Maratha ambush.
“As you command, my lord.” A moment later the eunuch was gone. Damodara was only vaguely aware of his departure.
* * *
As soon as he entered his own tent, Narses gave Ajatasutra the “thumbs up” and extended the package. The assassin rose with his usual lazy grace and took it in hand.
“I still say that’s an obscene gesture,” he murmured. But he was through the tent flap before Narses could do more than begin his baleful glare.
Outside, Ajatasutra paced through the darkness enshrouding the army’s camp with quick and sure feet. The flames of the various campfires provided little in the way of illumination, but that bothered him not in the least. Ajatasutra was quite fond of darkness, the truth be told.
The soldiers clustered about the campfire in one of the more distant groves never saw him coming until he was standing in their midst. Startled, the six men rose to their feet. All of them were experienced mercenaries. Two of them were Biharis, but the others were Ye-tai. In their cups, those four would have boasted that no man could catch them unawares.
They were not in their cups now, however. Ajatasutra had left clear instructions on that matter also. They stood still, awaiting their orders.
“Tonight,” said Ajatasutra. “Immediately.” He handed the package to one of the Bihari soldiers. “See to it—personally—that Lady Damodara receives this.”
As the mercenaries hurriedly began making ready for departure, Ajatasutra stepped over to the small tent pitched nearby. He swept back the flap and peered inside.
The two sisters were wide awake, staring at him with apprehension. The light shed by a small oil lamp made their faces seem especially taut and hollow. The older sister was clutching the baby to her chest.
“No trouble?” he asked. The two girls shook their heads.
“Get ready,” he said softly. “You’re leaving tonight. For your new owner. The journey will be long, I’m afraid.”
“Are you coming?” asked the younger.
Ajatasutra shook his head. “Can’t. I have duties elsewhere.” Then, seeing the sisters’ apprehension turn to outright fear, Ajatasutra chuckled dryly. “Your new owner is reputed to be quite a nice lady.”
His slight emphasis on the last word seemed to relieve their tension a bit. But only for a moment. Now, the sisters were staring past his figure, at the dimly seen shapes of the soldiers gearing up for travel.
Ajatasutra chuckled again. “There’ll be no problem on the trip, other than days of heat and dust. I will leave clear instructions.”
The stiffness in the sisters’ posture eased. The older cleared her throat. “Will we see you again?”
Ajatasutra tossed his head in an abrupt, almost minute gesture. “Who knows? The world’s a fickle place, and God is prone to whimsy.”
He dropped the tent flap and turned away. In the minutes which followed, he simply stood in place at the center of the grove, watching the soldiers make their preparations. The Ye-tai were ready within minutes, their horses soon thereafter. What little delay occurred came from the two Bihari mercenaries and the small elephant in their care. Both men were experienced in the work. They would alternate as mahout and guard riding in the howdah.
But Ajatasutra’s attention was not on the Biharis. He was not concerned about them. His careful study was given, first, to the howdah itself. Then, when he was satisfied that his instructions had been followed—the cloths serving as the howdah’s curtains were cheap and utilitarian, but did an adequate job of shielding the occupants from external view—he turned his scrutiny upon the Ye-tai who would serve as the howdah’s escort.
As was usually the case with Ye-tai, the semi-barbarians were big men. Big, and obviously fit. They were standing just a few feet away, their mounts not far behind them. If the heavy armor and weapons draped upon their muscular bodies caused them any discomfort, there was no sign of it.
Ajatasutra drifted toward them. At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tent flap move aside. The sisters emerged and began walking slowly and timidly toward the elephant, the older one still clutching her infant. Ajatasutra had long since provided the sisters with more modest saris than the costumes they had worn as prostitutes. But, even in the poor lighting provided by the dying campfires, their young and lithesome figures were quite evident.