Near midnight Sanat Ji Mani went out of his room into the garden; it was cool, with a lazy wind stirring the leaves and carrying the scent of jasmine, for even at the dark of the year, blossoms flourished in this warm, fecund climate. Overhead the constellations of winter hung, some familiar, others less so; Sanat Ji Mani studied the stars. He found the Hunter with his distinctive belt of three stars, Betelgeuse at the shoulder, Rigel at the knee; then the horns of the Bull, with the Pleiades and Aldebaran behind and below them, all directly overhead; Sirius, cold and bright, Pollux, and Procyon shone down from their ancient places. To the south there was the constellation the astronomers at Delhi had called the Djinn, marked by the brilliant Achenar, and another they had named The Emperor's Crown with Canopus at its apex. To the west, Deneb hung just above the shoulder of the wall, and in the east Regulus was rising.

He stood for a while, reacquainting himself with the winter sky, assembling and reassembling the patterns of stars according to the Egyptian, the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, and the Chinese, thinking that in the many, many years he had studied them while he walked the night, he had seen them change and move-very slowly, but over the centuries they brightened and dimmed, slid, and occasionally vanished in a flash or snuffed out as if a candle had been extinguished. His ruminations began to pall upon him, so he strolled beside the high wall, still glancing up from time to time; he was no longer interested in the stars and their courses along the night, but in the men who kept watch down the wall, lances in their hands. As he approached the rear gate, one of the Guards confronted him.

"This way is locked," he said, his stance making it clear that the door would not be opened for him, locked or not.

"When will it be opened?" Sanat Ji Mani asked politely. "Your Great Gate opens at dawn. I must suppose this gate is opened then as well."

"It is opened when Rajput Hasin Dahele orders it to be open." The Guard lifted his lance, not aiming it, but suggesting that would be his next move.

"Then it is usually closed and locked," Sanat Ji Mani said.

"Yes. All the garden gates are locked. It is to protect the Rajput's family-and his guests." The Guard cocked his head. "You need not linger."

"Of course not," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I was hoping to find a higher vantage-point to look at the stars, but if the gate is locked, I will not bother." Saying that, he turned and ambled back along the fence, unobviously taking stock of the other Guards stationed along the wall. There was no point where he could approach the wall unobserved; he nodded once, grimly, before going into the palace and seeking out his room.

Tulsi was lying on the bed, deeply asleep, her pale-green silken robe closed tightly, the sash knotted in place. In the ten days since she had been poisoned, she had been deeply fatigued, her appetite poor, and her state of mind withdrawn. She stirred as he closed the door but she did not waken.

Sanat Ji Mani sat down on the pile of cushions on the far side of the room from the bed and gave himself over to thought: for all the courtesy they had been shown, Sanat Ji Mani was now convinced they were indeed prisoners. What he had not been able to discover was why, and what it was that Hasin Dahele wanted of him: and because he did not have those answers, he was increasingly eager to escape. He decided he would go out to the mustering court tomorrow night, to try to determine when the Guards were changed, and how that was set up, so that he might discover a break in their routine that would provide the chance for him and Tulsi to leave. Not, he reminded himself, that Tulsi was in any condition to leave; she would need another week at least to regain her strength and shake off the lethargy that had taken hold of her. Putting the tips of his fingers together, Sanat Ji Mani contemplated their situation, trying to decide what to do.

"You are awake," Tulsi said from her place on the bed. "How long have you been sitting there?" Her voice was still a bit rough, but it had improved noticeably in the last three days, a sure sign her body was finally beginning to heal.

"I did not want to disturb you," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"I like to have you beside me," she reminded him, holding out her arms to him. "Come. Lie here with me."

He rose and went to the bed, stretching out and extending an arm so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I tried the garden."

"Is it like the others?" She sounded half-awake but she was trying to pay attention. "Are we surrounded by the Rajput's men?"

"Yes. There are Guards everywhere." He touched her hair.

"Then we are truly captives," she said.

"It appears so," Sanat Ji Mani agreed. "I would like to know why. So far I have been unable to find out."

"You have asked the Rajput-directly?" Tulsi laid her hand on his chest.

"I have tried. He has fobbed me off with protestations of courtesy and gratitude for my company." Sanat Ji Mani gave a single shake to his head. "I cannot get an explanation out of Vayu Ede, either."

"Is he the only one who speaks with you-still?" There was a note of panic in her question.

Sanat Ji Mani inclined his head once. "He may be the only one given permission."

"Because he knows so little," she said with a hard sigh.

"Or because he is charged with learning things about us; that would seem to be his purpose," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"I do not trust that one. He is too ..." She cleared her throat and tried again. "He is too unworldly, and yet he is busy in the world."

"That is true," said Sanat Ji Mani quietly, absently stroking her arm.

"He knows something," she said, scowling.

"Or he thinks he does, which may be worse." Sanat Ji Mani studied the ceiling as carefully as he had studied the sky. "If I knew what he has decided about the two of us, I would know better how to learn from him."

"If he thinks he has such knowledge, he may tell the Rajput things we would not like." She waited a long moment for him to speak. "He could make up something dreadful."

"He could, but I doubt he will," said Sanat Ji Mani, giving her a reassuring cuddle. "If he tells too many tales, the Rajput will not trust him, and he wants that trust more than anything; it shows in everything he does."

Tulsi shook her head. "I do not understand him, and that makes me restive." She bit her lower lip. "If I had someone besides Vayu Ede to watch, I could learn much more. But isolated as we are-" She slapped the pillow to express her annoyance.

"Observe him; he will show himself to you if you do." He moved slightly so that she would be more comfortable. "No doubt he is part of the problem we have encountered here, but what part?"

"I cannot think," said Tulsi, disgusted. "They have put us in this silken prison, and will not say why. They attempted to kill me-or you-and for no reason." She flung up her hand and made a fist of it.

"Oh, there is a reason," said Sanat Ji Mani. "When we know what it is, we will have gone a long way to learning who made the attempt."

Tulsi shook her head. "And if you cannot find it out-what then?" She turned away from him. "What will become of us?"

"I do not know yet," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I hope we will be able to escape this place, and soon." He flexed his right foot, a rueful expression clouding his features. "If I did not have to deal with this-"

Tulsi sighed. "It is improving. I have seen you get better. But it is so slow."

"Those of my blood-" he began.

"-mend slowly. So you said; I had no idea you meant this slowly." Tulsi's frown deepened and she shoved herself up on her elbow. "You told me it would take more than a year, but I thought you were being cautious."

"Unfortunately, no," he said wryly. "I was run through with a lance once, many years ago. It did not touch my spine, so I lived, but it was four years before the wound in my side healed." Although the injury had occurred a thousand years before, it was still a distressing memory; a ghost of the pain seared through him.

"Then you could be limping for another two years at least," said Tulsi, dismayed at the prospect. "How are we to escape if you cannot walk quickly, or far?"

"I suppose we would have to steal horses," said Sanat Ji Mani, so coolly that Tulsi was uncertain if he was jesting or not.

"Steal horses," she repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it more comprehensible. "Do you think you could?"

"The Rajput has a large stable. With a little forethought, we should be able to get away with two horses without too much trouble." He still seemed remote.

"And how are we to do this?" Tulsi asked.

"I have not come up with a plan yet," he confessed. "But I must begin to work on one. I cannot believe we are to be kept as we have been kept for much longer."

"Do you mean we could be imprisoned-more than we are now? Could we be separated? Put in cells or chains?" Whatever annoyance she felt toward him vanished at the thought of it. "Would they do that to us?"

"I do not know what they would do," Sanat Ji Mani said brusquely. "That is what troubles me. I only know they must do something."

"Why?" Tulsi asked. "Why not go on as they have been for ... for years?"

"Because the Rajput is preparing for war, and that means he cannot permit two strangers to have access to all his people and his palace. He has been courteous for a reason, and that we cannot forget. We must be more confined, or we must be used in some way." He paused thoughtfully. "He may want us to serve as spies for him, which would explain why he has treated us well and watched us closely."

"Then why the poison?" Tulsi gestured him to silence and answered her own question. "There may be other spies in the household who know the Rajput's plans. His enemies may be our enemies as well."

"That is possible," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"Or he may have run out of uses for us and now wants to be rid of us," Tulsi went on as various theories jumbled in her mind.

"Yes," Sanat Ji Mani agreed.

"That was why Hasin Dahele was so interested in finding out where we had been: he intends to go north and wants as much intelligence as he can gather," she went on, her animation increasing. "Yes. That must be his purpose."

"He may be wanting to extend his frontiers," Sanat Ji Mani speculated. "The old Delhi Empire is in disarray; I doubt Hasin Dahele is the only Rajput who wants to take advantage of its collapse. He could be planning to rout the minor forces Timur-i left behind and occupy the region as his own."

"That is a long way to go," said Tulsi. "We have walked most of the way, and it took many weeks." She sat up. "But that is what he wants from us, is it not? Someone who knows the way and has been over the roads recently. If he is going north, he will need scouts to guide him along the way, for he cannot rely on the people to do so. The rains have made a difference in the roads, but I begin to comprehend ..." She let the rest of her thoughts go.

Sanat Ji Mani was half-convinced she was right. "It makes sense," he told her.

"If he is determined to go to war with us to conduct him, I do not know how we are to get away." She leaned toward him. "Could we escape once the campaign begins?"

"It would be more dangerous than going now," Sanat Ji Mani said slowly. "But it may be our only opportunity."

"What of the other Rajputs in this region?" Tulsi asked suddenly. "Do you think they are with Hasin Dahele, or against him?"

"I do not know," said Sanat Ji Mani. "If they are against him, he is going to have a hard time of it, for he will have to fight his way through their opposition. If they are with him, he may be able to carve out enough territory to make himself a Raja, and not the grandson of one." The possibility of battle sickened him: he had seen too much of it through the centuries to believe it was anything more than chaos and slaughter, and that most of its gains were not sufficient to justify the suffering it created.

"Would he not have messengers going out to secure the friendship of the other Rajputs?" Tulsi wondered aloud.

"He could certainly do so," said Sanat Ji Mani, going on musingly, "unless he is planning to surprise them with his campaign, to move before they can mount any resistance, in which case he would be wise to keep his plans to himself."

"And keep travelers like us where he can control them," she added. "Yes." She got up from the bed. "Do you think this will happen soon?"

"I would suppose after the dark of the year: there is a time before the worst of the heat comes when he might safely wage war without having to battle the climate as well." Sanat Ji Mani watched her as she began to pace. "You realize this is all our surmise, that we cannot be certain of any of it."

"I realize that we may have guessed incorrectly, but we know the Rajput is planning something, and this makes as much sense as anything we might expect, given what we know. He must have a campaign in mind, that much is obvious." She stopped still and pointed at him. "You have suspected this from the first, have you not?"

"Not this specifically, no," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I am still not convinced of it." He could see she did not entirely believe him, so he went on, ticking off his points on his fingers. "We know he is preparing for war: he admits as much. We know he is interested in where we have been: we have been repeatedly questioned about our travels. We know he does not want us to leave: we are guarded at all times. We know someone in this palace wants one or both of us dead: there has been an attempt on your life. We know that the Rajput is eager to learn about Timur-i: his poet and he have asked many questions about him. Therefore we assume we are hostages, or that we have some other strategic role in the Rajput's plans. The rest is conjecture, and, tempting though it is to tell ourselves that we have hit upon the truth, we must not succumb to the mistake of confusing our suspicions with what we know."

Tulsi shook her head. "We must know more than that."

"What?" he asked, his manner mildly inquisitive. "We suspect we are watched, but have you ever caught anyone watching us?"

"No," she admitted.

"Then it is only a supposition." He let her deliberate his remark, then said, "We suspect that Hasin Dahele plans to go north when he begins his campaign, but has he ever said that is his intention?"

"No," she said.

"For all we know, he has detained travelers who have come from other places and given them the same hospitality he has shown us, and for a similar purpose, but we are supposing what that purpose is." Sanat Ji Mani rose. "No one has ever mentioned that, have they. No."

Tulsi thrust out her jaw. "Why should they?"

"Why, indeed," he countered. "You have worked out a very plausible explanation of what has been happening," he went on, only to be interrupted.

"But it may not be accurate," she said for him. "Very well; I will accept that. But I do not like the uncertainty that leaves."

"Nor do I, Tulsi; nor do I," said Sanat Ji Mani. "I wish we had someone-someone reliable-who could tell us more, but we do not."

"Do you think that is part of the plan?" Tulsi asked, coming back to him.

"It may be; it seems unlikely that it would be wholly accidental that we have been kept away from most of the people of the palace; and, of course, it is advantageous to Hasin Dahele to keep us guessing." He went to the window. "I am going to find out about the stables tomorrow night, when I look at the marshaling court."

"So you still think we should steal horses?" She sounded startled by this. "Should we not wait until we know more?"

Sanat Ji Mani answered her in a sardonic tone. "We know enough to realize it would be wisest to flee."

"I suppose we do," said Tulsi. "Is it possible, do you think? Can we escape?"

"At least I should explore; if it is too dangerous to attempt, I will find that out." He shook his head slowly. "In any case, we should be prepared to depart quickly if the opportunity is presented."

"All right. I will ready my pack." She grinned in anticipation.

"You might as well announce it to the world that we are planning to go," Sanat Ji Mani said as gently as he could. "Do nothing that is different from what you have been doing. Just lay by a few things-nothing obvious-and make sure you can gather all of them in a sack you can conceal under your clothes."

Tulsi tossed her head. "What about my pack?"

"Leave it where it is. And when we go, it must stay behind." He glanced around the room. "Have you picked up any more of the local tongue?"

"Yes," she said proudly, and was about to demonstrate when he held up his hand to silence her.

"Do not let them know. Right now, it is your only advantage, and it is a small one, at that. They know I can speak their language; let them continue to presume you do not. That may make them more unguarded in your presence, and they may let something slip that will be useful to us, later." The ploy had proved useful several times in the past and he did not underestimate its value.

Tulsi appeared to be disappointed by his stricture, but nodded her understanding. "No doubt you are right," she said reluctantly. "Timur-i sometimes used this trick, I know."

"Do not confuse Hasin Dahele with Timur-i," Sanat Ji Mani recommended. "They are very different men."

Tulsi was about to protest, then fell silent. At last she sighed. "I suppose Hasin Dahele will use war-elephants to fight."

"Very likely," said Sanat Ji Mani. "You have heard them trumpeting from the compound just outside the city walls. I cannot believe all of them are used for logging."

"They may be," said Tulsi, herself unconvinced. "There is a great deal of logging done around Devapur. Most of Rajput Hasin Dahele's wealth comes from wood."

"Yes; you are correct. The elephants could be part of the logging; they may be nothing more than that. But it does not seem likely. He has too many soldiers with the elephants." He stared out into the night. "If there are more horses than stalls in the stable, that will tell me something, too."

"Do you think they will let you into the stable? If the Rajput is planning war, he may want to keep all his preparations hidden." She came to stand beside him.

"I am sorry to have gotten you into all this," Sanat Ji Mani said when they had been quiet for a little while.

"I came of my own accord," she reminded him.

"You could have gone with Djerat and returned to Timur-i's army," he reminded her, laying his hand on her shoulder.

"And go back to following the soldiers? Thank you, no." She folded her arms as if against a sudden chill.

"You would not have been poisoned," he pointed out.

"That may be. But who knows what else might have happened to me?" She did not expect an answer and was offered none.

Sanat Ji Mani turned to her and kissed the arch of her brow. "That is very kind of you."

She shook her head. "I am not kind," she said, with the hint of a stammer in her words. A moment later she broke away from him. "I could practice in the marshaling yard in the morning. That way I can have a look at the stables from the outside without making it seem I am doing so. These soldiers will want to watch me, and they will not notice what I watch." She swung around toward him. "Thus far you have taken most of the risks, and I do not desire you to continue to be the only one."

Concealing his surprise, Sanat Ji Mani said, "After what you have been through, I would have thought that you have risked more than enough. You do not have to expose yourself in this way."

"I want to," she said more emphatically. "It is appropriate that I do as much as you have done. I know how to estimate an army's preparedness; I have seen it all my life. I may not know as much about the showy horses they have in the stables here, but I know the points to look for."

"There is no question you do," said Sanat Ji Mani.

"Then let me go to the marshaling yard. You will attract suspicion, going there without cause. But if I go, practice my tumbling and my acrobatics, and, while I am resting between movements, praise their horses, you may come later in the day and ask to see them. They may let you into the stables, especially if I can choose one horse to admire above all others, and you can then ask to see the horse I have spoken so well of. Seeing this one horse, you may be able to see much more, just by being in the stables. I know something of campaigning, but not as much as I reckon you do." She took hold of his arm suddenly, her fingers gripping; she looked directly into his dark eyes, pleading. "You have been taking all the risks, and I cannot accept that, not if I am to leave with you. I have been lying here for days, thinking there is nothing I can do. But there is, there is."

"It is a very clever idea," he conceded, still reluctant to let her undertake anything so hazardous.

"I think so, too," she said mischievously. "As to performing, it is time I did a proper display. I do need the practice; I have not had enough room to do a full routine anywhere but the garden." She leaned against him easily. "It will be good for me to entertain again, as well as look about me, too."

"What if you are not allowed to do it? You will be in full daylight, and I will not be able to help you." He was chagrined by this admission. "You will have to deal with the situation on your own."

"I have done so most of my life," she said, and was aware that her circumstances had been different, for with Timur-i's army, there was a whole community of entertainers, and they provided a kind of protection she could not have here.

"I am not pleased with you taking such chances," Sanat Ji Mani told her. "But I have to acknowledge the advantages of your plan, and however averse I am to this risk you want to take, I have nothing as likely to succeed to offer in its place."

"Then I shall do it," she said, finally sounding calm. "I will hold their attention while I study everything I see. Some of my tumbling may take me directly to the door of the stables." She smiled impishly. "I can pretend to slip, and perhaps get inside."

"Do not take on so much," Sanat Ji Mani warned. "If you try too much, they may become leery, and that could work against you. Find out as much as you can in as ordinary a way as you can, and from that, we can begin to make our plans."

Instead of bowing, Tulsi bent backwards and then slowly lifted her legs into a handstand. "Watch, Sanat Ji Mani," she said. "I will discover everything we need." She began to walk away from him, lowering her feet to rest on her head.

"I hope you may," said Sanat Ji Mani, frowning slightly.

Although she saw his face upside down and by moonlight, she knew enough about him to be aware that he was worried. She righted herself. "What is it?"

He shook his head as if to dismiss pesky quibbles. "We are assuming our guesses are correct. What if we have misread the whole situation? There may be some other explanation for the way we have been treated that we have not anticipated."

"And what might that be?" she asked, growing more sure of herself and her mission with every breath.

"I cannot tell." He rubbed his eyes. "That is what troubles me."

Tulsi chuckled. "You may be right, and there is something insidious that we do not know about," she said. "But given what we have learned, we must act upon it, or remain inert and vulnerable. I would rather be wrong in action than in passivity."

"And I," he said. "But to be precipitous would be folly."

She came up to him. "Tomorrow night we will both know more, and we can decide then if anything we have done has been too heedless. Until then, I want to rest; it is going to be a demanding day tomorrow."

Sanat Ji Mani embraced her and gave her shoulders a reassuring shake before sitting down beside her on the bed while she stretched out to resume her interrupted slumber; he felt great pride in her, and with it, great compassion. He hoped that their decision would not put her in greater danger than they were in now, yet, even as he was cognizant of it, he understood that his hope was in vain.

Text of a report compiled from merchants and presented to Rajput Hasin Dahele.

To the most excellent, the most exalted, the most esteemed, the Rajput Hasin Dahele, the greetings and protestations of loyalty and dedication to your cause from the merchants Chandra Chauris, Riti Natadasa, Kautilya Jati, and Ghangal Sunpavar, all respected men of good repute who seek to aid you in your expansions of your frontiers.

Know, O Rajput, that in our travels, we have seen that there is much disorder in the lands beyond those you rule, and that disorder cries out for rectification, so that dharma may be restored to all those who live in these abandoned places. For that reason, we are preparing to reveal to you all we have seen, in the hope that it will aid you in your quest to bring regularity out of disruption, as has been shown to please the Gods; for those who give themselves to destruction surely bring it upon themselves, and many pay the price for the actions of a few.

Thus Riti Natadasa reports that on his journey over the mountains to the west, he saw that there is upheaval still spreading from Gujerat, where there is still much upheaval and unsettledness among the people, so that some are forced to flee for fear of losing their lives. He says that most of these people are poor and now have less than before; he has seen many begging, and others dead of starvation and misery. So if it is the Rajput's desire to improve the lot of his people, he would do well to go elsewhere for them, as he cannot hope to improve the lives of so many unfortunates. Also, because of this increase in persons wandering the roads, many travelers are set upon by those made desperate, and they are robbed, some of them even killed. An army might not have much to fear from such creatures, but they might prove inconvenient for the army, not only as thieves, but as unreliable scouts or untrustworthy servants. Riti Natadasa has said he will not be going west for many more months, for he has no wish to encounter any more desperate men.

Kautilya Jati, who has recently returned from Sirpur, says that trade has been picking up there, and the merchants are anticipating an improvement in their businesses, as the depredations of Timur-i have ceased for the time being. He reports that many merchants who have been forced to leave Delhi have now begun to make a living once again, one that can flourish beyond the Delhi Sultanate. He has heard that it is acknowledged as the truth that Timur-i was deposed and abandoned alone on the roads, and that the reason for his army's retreat to Samarkand is to fix the new lords in place, and to seize the power Timur-i has held for so long. Many travelers, pilgrims as well as merchants, have said that there are many looking for Timur-i upon the roads, for it is known that his officers will follow him rather than his usurpers if they are given the chance. He says he himself has tried to find Timur-i, to avail himself of the power that man can command, as even a merchant knows the worth of an army.

Chandra Chauris, who has been in the north through the rains, says that there has been damage done to the roads by flooding, but that nothing is so wholly destroyed that it is impossible for anyone to travel upon the roads without coming to grief. He informs you that if you decide to go north, that you would be well-advised to send builders ahead to make the repairs you will require, for it will benefit no one if you are unable to make progress due to the impassability of the roads. They do not need full reconstruction, but there are ruts and holes and other impediments that would be better for the attention of builders, particularly if the Rajput should wish to move a considerable number of men and animals over them. Elephants, of course, can manage for themselves, but even they make more progress over wellrepaired roads.

Ghangal Sunpavar has seen gold and jewels from China more than he has from the West, so it must be assumed that Timur-i's Empire is in disarray, for no trade is making its way through his territories. If this is the case in a year, it will be a very bad thing for all merchants, but for now, it can be made less destructive by improving the level of trade with Assam and other eastern regions, all the way into China. Gold and jewels are recognized everywhere as having value, and Ghangal Sunpavar believes that the more the merchants of Devapur have of each, the more powerful all Beragar will be in the world, for it will be known that gold flows to the coffers of Hasin Dahele, not out of them, and those who might consider opposing the Rajput will know that such a venture will lead to ruin, because that fight would be too costly in men and animals as well as in gold. To that end, Ghangal Sunpavar has decided to conduct all his business in gold and jewels, and to place at the disposal of the Rajput Hasin Dahele half of his fortune, as a show of faith in all the Rajput's endeavors.

This is the sum of the report of the merchants of Devapur whose wish it is to assist the Rajput in his efforts. They all proclaim their fealty to the Rajput, and will report to him regularly on any facet of their dealings that may have significance to the Rajput's expansion of territory.

Submitted by the scribe Shivaji Prata, with his avowal that this account is full and accurate, and in accord with the words of the merchants, on this, the first full moon after the dark of the year.