"LEAVE HIS LEGS UNDAMAGED. HIS BRAIN ALSO, SUCH AS IT IS. SO LONG
AS HE CAN STILL WALK."
Damodara entered the palace just as the sun was setting. There was still some fighting in the city, here and there, but not much.
It was all over. His great gamble had worked.
"Skandagupta's son says he will agree to the-ah-new documents," Narses said.
Damodara considered the matter. "Not good enough. He has to swear he's a bastard, also. His real father was… whoever. Pick one of the courtiers whose heads decorate the walls outside. Someone known to be foul as well as incompetent."
Narses sneered. "Hard to choose among them, given those qualifications."
"Don't take long." Damodara's lips twisted into something that was perhaps less of a sneer, but every bit as contemptuous. "I want those heads off the walls and buried or burnt by tomorrow afternoon. The impaled bodies, by mid-morning. What a stench!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"My wife? Children?"
"They should be here within an hour. They're all safe and well."
Damodara nodded. "See to it that stable-keeper is rewarded. Lavishly. In addition to being made the new royal stable-master.
"Yes, Your Majesty. What about-"
"The two Roman soldiers?" Damodara shook his head, wonderingly. "What sort of reward would be suitable, for such service as that?"
Narses' sneer returned. "Oh, they'll think of something."
"Someone's coming," said one of the members of the assassination team. He spoke softly. Just as softly as he let the grasses sway back, hiding their position alongside the road to the Bay of Bengal.
"Who?"
"Don't know. But from the clothes he's wearing, someone important, even though he's on foot. He's got a girl with him, and those weird little yellow assassins the witches keep around."
The captain frowned. He knew who the man was talking about, of course, even if none of the regular Malwa assassination teams ever had much contact with the witches and their entourage. But they'd always paid some attention to the Khmer assassins. Just keeping an eye on the competition, as it were.
"What in the world would… Let me see."
He slithered his way to the top of the knoll and carefully parted the grasses.
"It's the emperor, " he hissed.
"Are you sure?" asked his lieutenant.
"Come and look for yourself, if you don't believe me."
The lieutenant did so. Like the captain, though not the other three assassins, he'd been introduced to the emperor once. At a distance, of course, and as part of a small crowd. But it was something a man remembered.
"Damned if you're not right. But what would he be doing… Oh. Stupid question."
The captain smiled, sardonically. "I guess we know who won the siege."
He took a deep breath and let it out. "Well, thank whatever gods there are. After eleven thousand wasted miles and I don't want to think how many wasted hours, we've finally got something to do."
Fortunately, they'd hauled their little bombard the whole way. For all their diminutive size, the Khmer assassins were deadly. But a blast of canister swept them away as neatly as you could ask for. The one who survived, unconscious and badly wounded, got his throat cut a few seconds later.
They hadn't intended to hit the emperor or the girl, but the group had been tightly bunched and canister just naturally spreads.
The girl wasn't too badly hurt. Just a single ball in the left arm. She might lose the arm, but it could have been worse.
There was no chance, however, that Skandagupta would survive.
"Gut-shot," the lieutenant grunted. "He'll die in agony, in a few days. Damodara might like that."
The captain shook his head. "Not by reputation, and all we really need is the head, anyway. Or do you want to carry the fat little bastard?"
The lieutenant eyed the distant walls of Kausambi. Night was falling, but he could still hear the sounds of scattered fighting.
"Well… it's only a few miles. But after eleven thousand, I'm not in the mood for any extra effort." He knelt down, and with a few expert strokes, severed the imperial head.
The girl was still squawling at them, as she had been since the attack. It was a very strange sound, coming from such a small female. As if her voice emerged from a huge cavern of a chest.
Consciously and deliberately, the assassins had blocked the actual words from their minds You had to be careful, dealing with the witches. Which she obviously was, despite her youth. A witch-in-training, at least.
The captain struck her on the head with the pommel of his dagger. Carefully, just enough to daze the creature.
You never knew, with the witches and the imperial dynasty-of which Damodara was still a part, after all. The reward might be greater, if she were still alive.
Alive, however, was good enough.
"I'm sick of that squawling," said the captain. "Her eyes are creepy, too. Gag her and blindfold her, before she comes to."
They decided to wait until the next day, before entering the city to seek their reward. By then, the fighting should have ended.
Before long, however, the captain was regretting that decision. They were all very well-traveled, by now, and-alas-the lieutenant liked to read.
"You know," he said, "the story has it that when some Persians presented Alexander the Great with the body of Darius, he had them all executed. For regicide, even though he was hunting the former emperor himself."
Silently, the captain cursed all well-read men. Then, because maintaining morale was his duty, pointed out the obvious.
"Don't be silly. Alexander the Great was a maniac. Everybody says Damodara is a level-headed, practical fellow."
Lord Samudra learned the war was over that night, from a radio message sent from Kausambi.