There were huge stone statues of elongated heads flanking the gates of the town, most of them quite old, judging by the weathered features. Beyond the gates was a market-square with a well and a pair of temples facing each other across the stalls where vendors were just setting up for business. The sky was an opalescent pink, the morning breeze fresh, and the heat of the day had not yet taken hold.

"Will you need shelter?" Tulsi asked as they approached the gates.

"Yes, but not just at once." He was only marginally uncomfortable, and he knew how much of the sun he could tolerate before his burns returned.

"Then I will find a place for you," she said, "and then I will perform."

"There may be a fee to pay first," he reminded her. "I have a few coins left-not very many, but they should suffice to cover any tax."

"And I will get coins for what I do," said Tulsi proudly. "You need not worry about that. I will buy my own food, too. You need not steal any lambs or kids for me."

"As you wish," he said as they approached the gates. "May your gods show you favor," he called out in the dialect of Delhi to the three stalwarts standing guard behind the gigantic heads. The answer they gave was incomprehensible but for two words: traveler and entry. Sanat Ji Mani tried again, this time in the language of the Malwa region which this town, lying between Lawah and Chitor, might know.

One of the guards nodded. "May your gods be equally gracious."

Sanat Ji Mani limped forward. "My companion and I have traveled far," he began, only to be interrupted by the guard, who pointed to his ragged appearance and laughed.

"And not well, by the look of you." He spat. "You have no castemarks. Are you Untouchables, or outcasts?"

"Neither," said Sanat Ji Mani. "We are foreigners, as you can see."

The guard tossed his head once in acknowledgment of this. "What do you want?"

"An opportunity to ply our skills. My companion is a tumbler; she has performed in many places, including before the great Timur-i Lenkh. She is renowned in the north," Sanat Ji Mani said, putting his palms together and bowing to her.

"What are you telling them?" Tulsi asked.

"How accomplished you are," Sanat Ji Mani said, and continued to the guard. "She is willing to perform in your market-place."

"How will she perform?" The guard shook his head. "No, no. We have no need for traveling whores here."

"She is not that," Sanat Ji Mani said sharply. "Let her demonstrate her skills and you will see she is not what you think." He turned to Tulsi, holding out his hand for her pack. "They need to see what you can do; one of those somersault jumps of yours should convince them of your gifts. He does not believe you have the ability I have described."

"Given the state of my clothes, I would not believe me, either," she said before taking a few steps back, running half-a-dozen paces and then launching herself into the air, doing a full forward rotation of her body before landing on her feet. As she rose, she reclaimed her pack once again.

The guards all stared, and the one with whom Sanat Ji Mani had spoken made a gesture of compliance. "Very well. She may perform. But if she does anything beyond that, she will be whipped, and so will you. What is your skill, stranger? Do you do more than live off her?"

Sanat Ji Mani stifled a sigh. "If your priests are willing that I exercise my art, I have with me a few medicaments; I can treat the injured. I have done so for many years." It was no more than the truth: he had begun his healing work three thousand years earlier in the Temple of Imhotep.

"You may have a place near the temple." The guard pointed to the nearer one. "If you do anything false, you will be beaten and your woman taken away from you."

"She is not mine to have her taken from me," said Sanat Ji Mani. "She is my companion, nothing more."

"Yet you let her earn for you." The guard laughed. "No doubt that is only out of her kindness that she does." He glared at the two of them. "I have told you what is permitted, and our terms. If you enter the gates, you accept the terms."

"I understand," said Sanat Ji Mani, and summed up the gist of what the guard had said to Tulsi, adding, "I will pay the fees now; that should make him more inclined to give us the benefit of the doubt." He held out two small gold coins to the guards. "This is for her, and for me. I have my materials in my sack and will administer them for a few coppers."

"A seller of potions, are you?" The guard chuckled. "If any of your medicines do not work, you will be whipped."

"I am willing to take that risk," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"You should use them on yourself," the guard added. "You halt along like a spavined horse."

"What is he saying to you?" Tulsi asked, not liking the guard's tone.

"Nothing very important," Sanat Ji Mani replied. "Ignore him." He added to the guard, "If I had not used my skills, I could not walk at all. As it is, I depend upon her to help me."

"If you think it best, I will, but men of this sort do not like being ignored," she said in response to the part she understood, with an uneasy glance toward the guards.

"I think they may find a reason to separate us, and that would be difficult." Sanat Ji Mani held out his hand to her. "Hold on a moment, to show them we are together."

She laid her hand in his. "Will this make any difference?"

"It may." He turned to the guards. "She is willing to entertain until the mid-day rest, and from late afternoon until sundown. She will not do more than that. The gold should be enough for permission to perform."

"It is ample," said the leader of the guards.

"Then we are satisfied if you are," said Sanat Ji Mani, releasing Tulsi's hand.

"This money will do for today. If you want to continue tomorrow, you will have to pay more." The guard smiled. "You treat her well."

"I treat her as she deserves," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"Do you not command her?" the guard asked.

"No, I do not. I have no right to command her, nor does any man." He took a step forward, favoring his right foot as he did.

"It is a good thing she is the acrobat." The guards laughed among themselves.

"Oh, beyond question. Even if my foot were healed, I could never do the things she can," Sanat Ji Mani said with a genial smile.

"You say you do not command her," the leader remarked.

"I say it because it is true," Sanat Ji Mani declared. "She has been given her liberty because of her talents. No man is to deprive her of what she has been given."

"And who was it who gave it to her?" the guard asked.

"It was Timur-i himself, who conferred her full liberty upon her." It was a daring lie, but one that could not be gainsaid.

The mention of Timur-i caught the attention of the guards. "He has not come here."

"But he might," Sanat Ji Mani pointed out. "And if he does, you do not want it said that you failed to honor his decrees."

"Perhaps not," said the guards, and whispered among themselves. Finally the leader spoke again. "Neither of you will be kept from your performing, but neither of you will be given any unusual favor. You will stay in the market-square like everyone else." He stepped aside and gave his attention to a man leading three heavily laden asses.

"What did you say about Timur-i?" Tulsi asked as they went through the gates.

"That he freed you," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I thought it would allow us the chance to work here without having all our money taken."

"How much did you pay?" she asked.

"Two gold pieces," he said. They stared about the market-square where stalls were being erected. "I think there will be a place for you at the end of that row."

She followed where he pointed. "Yes. There is room enough." She turned back. "What about you?"

"I will sit in the shadow of one temple for the morning and ask if I might move to the other for the afternoon." He touched her hand. "During the mid-day rest, stay by me."

She nodded. "I have no desire to try to find a safe place on my own." Her voice dropped. "I may be ready by then."

He shook his head. "Not yet, Tulsi, and not here. You need not be concerned for me; I have weathered worse than this."

"On the road to Baghdad. Yes; you told me." She looked away, toward the market-square.

"And the Roman arena. It was tolerable only for its brevity." He rubbed his chin, recalling other places that had tested the limits of his strength. "At least I can do something to earn a little money, something useful; I still have enough medicaments left to treat most minor conditions. If someone is seriously ill, I doubt I can do them much good."

"Then select your patients with care, and stay where I can see you," she recommended; she handed him her pack and started away along the aisle between the market-stalls.

"That I will," he said, resigning himself to a day of lancing boils and treating rashes. He stayed in the shadows as much as he could as he went along to the temple on the eastern side of the market-square: it was a wide building, fronted with shallow stairs leading up to an elaborate colonnade that served as the formal entrance to the holy building. Statues of gods, some of whom Sanat Ji Mani did not recognize, stared down at the market-square from large niches, their feet covered in offerings of fruit and flowers. He chose a place at the end of the colonnade and sank down on the steps, setting out a row of vials at his feet. From here he could watch Tulsi perform while he dealt with anyone wanting his help.

At the open space, Tulsi began to tumble, working out how much room she would have and how she would use it. Her first cartwheels-two on the ground and one in the air-attracted the attention of a spice merchant who had just finished setting out his wares in his stall. She did a back-flip and grinned automatically as he tossed a copper coin to her. She picked it up and slipped it into the pouch sewn into her sash, then sank into the splits as a kind of bow. It was a promising beginning, she told herself as she glanced at Sanat Ji Mani.

The morning passed quickly enough; the market-square was busy, and the day was hot. Tulsi performed frequently and ended up with a good amount of coins for her trouble; Sanat Ji Mani was less busy, but by mid-day he had a handful of copper coins to show for his work. As the sun glowed like a forge overhead, the market shut down; vendors and buyers alike went to rest out of the stultifying heat.

"I am going to buy something to eat," Tulsi called out to Sanat Ji Mani as the vendors lowered their awnings for the heat of the day. "Do you want anything?"

"I leave that to you," said Sanat Ji Mani, putting his vials back in his sack, slinging it over his shoulder, grabbing Tulsi's pack, and standing up slowly; his foot was aching and the sun had sapped his stamina to a point where he only wanted shelter and rest. He leaned against the nearest column and watched Tulsi purchase two skewers of goat-meat cooked with cumin and ginger, and a large round of flat-bread filled with onions, nuts, and raisins.

She came up to him with her meal in her hands, making her fingers shine with oil. "I had a good morning," she announced.

"I saw you were watched eagerly." He smiled at her. "Even the guards came to watch you."

"They did," she said, taking a bite of the bread. "This is very good," she said through her chewing.

"It has a wonderful aroma," he agreed, and added, as he saw her startled expression. "Just because I do not eat does not mean I do not know the value of good food."

"You will always surprise me," she said, and squinted up at the sky. "Where shall we rest?"

"There is an alley-way just on the side of this temple. I think it will remain in shadow all day." He held out his hand to indicate the way, and was pleased when she took hold of it. "Come, Tulsi. We both need time to rest."

"That we do," she agreed, her greasy fingers slipping through his.

"Then let us find a place," he said, and bowed to her Roman fashion.

"You have some very strange ways, Sanat Ji Mani," she told him as she followed him into the deepest shadows beside the temple, nibbling at her meal as she went. "I did not like the manner in which the guard looked at me," she said quietly; the stones took up her whisper and repeated it.

"How do you mean?" he asked, looking about for a place they would be hidden and comfortable at once.

"He raked me with his eyes. Some men look at women that way, as if to take off all their clothes and their skin, too." She paused at the edge of an old niche, now standing empty. "This might do."

"It might," he agreed, and stepped into it to look around. "I do not think it will be too unpleasant."

"No spiders, no snakes," she reminded him.

"I see none," he assured her.

"Then I will come in," she said, climbing the steps to join him. "You are pale."

"I am tired," he admitted, dropping down onto the stone floor, his sack beside him. "I am sorry about the guard. If you would rather not perform this afternoon, then tell me and we will leave as soon as the market begins again."

"Do we not need the money I could earn?" she asked.

"How pragmatic you are," he said. "Yes, it would be useful, but it would not be necessary."

"Then I will perform and you will stay a little nearer, so the guard will not forget that you and I are together and he may not do what he wishes to do." She took a bite of the flavorful goat-meat, chewing heartily. "This is very good. A pity you cannot taste for yourself."

He paid no heed to her last remarks. "There is enough room for you to lie down," said Sanat Ji Mani. "The stones are hard, but you can rest on them."

"And you?" She sank down, her legs crossed. "This is very pleasant. There are not many places in the town that are cooler, I would guess."

He wondered how she intended her observation. "It should be a proper bed, and with curtains to draw around it."

"Is that what you want for yourself?" She continued to eat, licking her fingers from time to time.

"My bed is narrow and it lies atop a chest filled with my native earth. Most would find it hard, but to me, it is better than cushions of silk." He thought, as he said that, of his houses in various parts of the world, each still containing beds for his use. It would be wonderful, he told himself, to be able to reach any one of them.

"Why do you like such a bed? You could have any you wanted; why choose something so austere?" She was half-finished with the first skewer and almost a third done with the bread; she concentrated on the meat.

"I like it because it restores me," he said, leaning back against the stone wall. "All those of my blood are restored by our native earth."

"Um," she said through a full mouth. When she had swallowed, she said, "You have told me you need your native earth to restore you, yet you and I have managed without it, and with only the blood of animals to nurture you."

"And I am less than I could be," he said, once again choosing his words carefully. "Not just because of weakness and burning."

She stared down at the steps. "I will soon be ready and you need not-"

He held up his hand. "No. This is not meant to persuade you."

She sighed and took another bite of goat. "You cannot tell me you do not think of it," she said between chews.

"Of course I think of it, but not for hunger alone. There is that in you that draws me to you, your courage, your-"

"I know," she said, waving him to silence. "You have told me before and I believe you mean what you say." She ate more, not looking up from her food. "You do not suppose I would refuse you, do you?"

"If that is what you want, then it is right you refuse me," he said, bending forward to look at his right foot.

"As I will do, but not forever," she said.

"It may be forever, if that is what you decide to do." He opened his shoe and poked at the cloth wrapped around his foot; it was a bit bloody, but the stain was fairly dry.

"I will be ready in a while, perhaps a few days, perhaps a month," she said. "I am almost prepared." She pulled off a strip of the bread and wrapped it around two chunks of goat-meat.

"That does not trouble me, Tulsi," he said, closing his shoe again.

"Does it not?" She stuffed a large bite into her cheek.

"No." He gazed at her, saying nothing for a time. "We will be able to travel a fair distance tonight, and still have time to rest."

"Are we still going south?" The question was a neutral one; she already knew the answer.

"Yes. We will go south for many leagues, until we may safely turn west." He stretched. "We will know to turn west when we find merchants coming from that direction; we have not done that yet."

"And we will continue south until we do?" she asked, trying to imagine how long they might wander.

"Or until we learn that it is safe to go westward," he said, and did not explain how that would happen, uncertain of it himself.

Tulsi pondered their situation. "How much longer will we have money for traveling?"

"That will depend to some degree on what we have to pay for, and how much we have to pay," he answered.

"But you do not have much left-money, that is?" She thought of the coins she had earned and smiled a bit.

"I have a few gold coins, a few silver ones, and a handful of copper ones. I am running low on medicaments-you know that." He shook his head.

"Then we will become beggars," she said steadily.

"Not quite that," he responded. "Nothing so dire."

She cocked her head. "But we will have to earn our food, or steal it."

"As we have been doing," he pointed out gently.

"Yes; but now it is prudent, not necessary. Soon it will be essential." She licked her fingers clean and lay back. "I will finish the rest of it when I waken."

Sanat Ji Mani laid his hand on her cheek. "Do not fear. We are not destitute yet."

"No, not yet," she said, turning onto her side and closing her eyes, her head resting on her extended arm.

Watching her drift into sleep, Sanat Ji Mani felt fatigue possess him as immediate as a fever. He leaned back again and longed for slumber, but knew it would elude him. He would have to make the most of the rest he could achieve by half-measures; the lack of his native earth was wearing on him. Not since he had washed ashore in Saxony, more than four centuries ago, had he felt so depleted as he did now. He did his best to clear his mind of intruding recollections but could not shut them out completely: Tishtry guided her quadriga around the Circus Maximus, Nicoris built up fires along the low battlements, Gynethe Mehaut lay before the altar in Karl-lo-Magne's city, Ranegonda on the beach at Leosan Fortress ... He lapsed into a dazed languor that only ended when he heard a loud cry from the market-square.

Tulsi woke abruptly, a bit disoriented. "What was that?"

"Someone yelled," Sanat Ji Mani said, getting to his feet.

"Why?" Tulsi wondered aloud.

"I do not know," said Sanat Ji Mani, and listened intently as the shout was repeated. "A person of rank is coming, it appears."

"What person is that?" Tulsi was more aware of her surroundings now, and she peered out of the niche with curiosity.

"I have no idea. They are saying the lord," he explained, and listened to the sudden bustle. "The guards are demanding the vendors to return to their stalls."

"Because the lord is coming?" Tulsi lifted her hands impatiently. "What should we do, you and I?"

"Do you want to perform for this lord?" he asked her.

"No. No, I do not," she said, shivering in spite of the heat. "I ... I do not want to do anything for this lord."

Sanat Ji Mani nodded. "Then perhaps we should slip away while everyone is preparing to receive the lord," he suggested. "There should be a gate in the wall behind the temple; there usually is." He took up his sack and pointed to the last of her food. "You may want to take this with you."

"I do," she agreed as she shouldered her pack. "These lords are always hard to please. I have the sense that he might be more arbitrary than most."

Sanat Ji Mani was already moving down the alley, away from the market-square. "You do not need to justify your wishes to me, Tulsi," he said, his voice filled with kindness. "You do not want to remain: we shall not."

She flashed him an uncertain smile. "You are good to me."

They continued down the alley to the rear of the temple and found a number of rough huts clustered near the wall, ragged children and thin women watching them silently from the doors and windows of the ramshackle buildings. One of the women pointed away from the temple, then held out her hand; Sanat Ji Mani gave her a copper coin and motioned to Tulsi to stay close to him.

"Who are these people?" she whispered as she closed the gap between them.

"Prostitutes, either for the priests or for the temple," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"How can you be sure?" She shuddered as a naked little boy threw a pebble at her.

"There are no men here," Sanat Ji Mani observed. "And no sign of men."

Tulsi reached for his hand. "Poor creatures."

"That they are," Sanat Ji Mani said, and continued in the direction the woman had pointed.

Sanat Ji Mani and Tulsi were almost to the wall when there was a commotion behind them, and two of the guards appeared at the other end of the clump of huts; a shout went up, and the men started forward only to be set upon by half-a-dozen women. The guards tried to shove them away only to find others in their place; Tulsi glanced back once, then kept her face turned toward the wall and the tumble of stones where a section of it had fallen in.

"They are after us," she said to Sanat Ji Mani.

"That they are," said Sanat Ji Mani again, steeling himself for the ordeal of climbing the broken wall; the sun was overhead and his foot was starting to ooze blood.

"Why are the women doing this?" She tested the first stone and climbed onto it, holding her hand down to him. "Come."

He took her hand, grateful for her help. "I do not know," he said. "Perhaps the guards seek them out, perhaps the women want to help us do what they cannot do."

"Climb this wall?" Tulsi asked in amazement as she continued upward.

"Leave this place," Sanat Ji Mani replied, feeling his skin begin to tighten with burning.

Tulsi clambered upward, saying, "Hold on to my leg. We'll go faster if I do not have to turn back every few steps."

Sanat Ji Mani did as she ordered, his jaw set with determination. He could hear the shouts behind them getting louder; the sound spurred him on. As they reached the top of the toppled stones, he paused long enough to look back for an instant: he saw four guards coming toward them with grim expressions on their faces; one of the men was yelling something about Timur-i.

"Hurry," said Tulsi, already half-way down the other side. "We can run for the trees."

"Perhaps you can; I will do my best," he said, trying to make light of their situation.

"You will run if I have to carry you," said Tulsi, now on the ground and waiting for him to reach her; he said nothing more as he put his whole concentration on getting off the wall. As his foot touched the ground, Tulsi came up to him and wedged her shoulder under his arm. "Come on. I will support you." Before he could say anything she had her arm around his back and was half-dragging him away from the heap of stones they had just crossed. She headed directly for the line of trees and ducked into them, the leaves whipping across them as they hurried on. Only when they could not see the walls of the town did Tulsi slow down to a walk. "There," she said, letting go of Sanat Ji Mani.

He struggled to say upright; pain sizzled up his leg and through his body, his skin had already cracked on his face and hands, and he felt weak as a newborn calf. "I will be all right," he said.

"If we get clear of this town, you will," she said. "We must keep moving. They will search for us."

"And they must not find us," he agreed, preparing himself to continue on through the sun-spangled trees.

"What did they want? Why were they chasing us?" Tulsi asked, setting her pace to his.

"I have no idea," he admitted. "But I do not want to find out."

"Why did they yell about Timur-i?" she persisted. "Is he searching for us?"

Sanat Ji Mani shook his head and put his mind on walking.

Text of a report to the Emperor of China from his personal intelligence gatherer, written in code and carried by special courier.

In the Fortnight of the Dragon Boat Races, this most insignificant person takes it upon himself to fulfill his duty to the August Wielder of the Vermillion Brush with this, his second report since the Emperor of the Middle of the World was gracious enough to bestow so important a mission on this unworthy person.

This unimportant person begs to tell you that he is continuing his travels through the lands of the Hindu and Buddha. In that regard, this person is pleased to report that his foot has completely healed and that he has only a little limp from the injury. This humble person is most deeply grateful to the foreigner Sanat Ji Mani for all he did to aid me during the time this person was in Delhi pursuing your most revered purpose. It is the hope of this insignificant person that the Buddha will spare him suffering in this life for his goodness to me, and his most excellent care. It is also this person's sincere hope that this foreigner was not among the thousands killed by Timur-i at Delhi.

This unimportant person wishes to inform the most Celestial Emperor that the many refugees from Delhi are growing fewer in number, for which reason this unworthy person has come to believe that most of those who could escape have done so and all that remains now are the few who have become servants to the soldiers of Timur-i left behind to guard the city for his pleasure. Those who have left Delhi tell tales of rapine and continued destruction, both of which have already been visited on that city far beyond its deserts. This person is afraid that anyone left in Delhi must be considered lost to the world.

This dutiful person has seen upheaval in the regions that were not so very long ago firmly allied to Delhi and are now establishing themselves apart from that city and either man claiming to be Sultan there. It is a most upsetting thing, to see how quickly the hold of the Sultans has been lost. Nasiruddin Mohammed bin Tughluq may say it is his right to rule, but there is so little left, this person wonders why he should bother himself over so minor a holding. It makes no sense that Timur-i would waste his troops holding the city for him, when it is clear there is no advantage to be gained from it. This person believes it would be prudent to wait for a year before attempting to establish any contact with Delhi, for it may be that in a year there will be no reason to do so.

This unworthy person wishes to report that there have been accounts of travelers having seen Timur-i wandering the roads, a beggar. There have been rumors before now of his displacement from his leadership, but it is always a tale heard from another, and as such, subject to doubt. This person has not yet heard any story that is convincing enough to gain credence among those who are not awed by the marvelous. Should this person come upon any information that would present creditable evidence that Timur-i is indeed no longer the leader of his army, this person will speedily inform the Wielder of the Vermillion Brush all he has learned.

Rains will soon come to this part of the land; for the time being, the heat is ferocious. The heat of the great Northern Desert is nothing to it. This heat is like being stifled by a hot, wet blanket. It is impossible to breathe without discomfort; men and women collapse under its impact, which is worse than a beating with bamboo rods. This humble person is glad, just now, that he has no animal to care for, since this weather is sufficiently draining to exhaust even the hardiest pony. Walking may be agonizing, but it can only take a toll on this person, not on any other. Once the rains come, there will be mud, and that, too, will slow the progress possible to anyone on the road; this person begs the most August Emperor to forgive him for needing more time to cover the distance agreed upon, but nothing this person can do will make the roads more passable once the wet comes, or more endurable now that the height of the summer is soon to be upon us. No one could do better than this person has done, and few could do as well, given what this person has had to survive. This most insignificant person does not ask for pity; no, he has no need of it, nor desire for it. He seeks only to help the August Emperor to understand the scope of the demands that are placed upon him as he struggles to fulfill the mission entrusted to him.

This person will send his observations by courier in another three months. May the Celestial Emperor continue to enjoy the favor of Heaven, and may the August Dynasty never cease to rule.

Lum