The Dance of Time

There weren't many, and they weren't all that coherent. Only three of the soldiers who had gone into the palace were still alive, and one of them was too badly injured to talk. None of the soldiers who'd gone into the cellar had survived, of course.

But he was pretty sure he knew what had happened, and hastened to make his report to Emperor Skandagupta.

* * *

In his own far greater palace, the Emperor waited impatiently for the officer to finish.

When he was done, Skandagupta shook his head. "They all committed suicide? That's nonsense."

He pointed at the officer. "Execute this incompetent."

Once that was done, the Emperor gave his orders. They were not complicated.

"Dig. Remove all the rubble. There's an escape tunnel there somewhere. I want it found."

Carefully—very carefully—none of his advisers allowed any of their dismay to show. Not with the Emperor in such a foul and murderous mood.

Not one of them wanted to draw his attention. It would take days to clear away all that rubble. Long, long days, in which the Emperor would probably have at least one or two more men executed for incompetence.

At least. As the advisers assigned to the task of excavation started filing out of the imperial audience chamber, Skandagupta was already giving orders to discover which incompetent—no, which traitor—in charge of the capital's munitions supply had been so corrupt or careless—no, treasonous—to allow such a huge quantity of gunpowder to slip through his fingers.

* * *

After the advisers reached the relative safety of the streets outside the palace, they went their separate ways to begin organizing the excavation project.

All but one of them, that is. That one, after he was certain no one was watching him, headed for Kausambi's northern gate.

The city was still in a state of semi-chaos, so soon after the word of Damodara's rebellion had spread everywhere from the telegraph stations, despite the secret police's attempts to suppress the news. The destruction of Lady Damodara's palace, right in the middle of the imperial quarter, would simply add to it.

The adviser thought he had a good chance of slipping out of the city unnoticed, if he moved immediately. He had no choice, in any event, if he had any hope of staying alive himself or keeping his wife and children alive.

True, the adviser had no connection to Kausambi's munitions depot. But one of his first cousins was in charge of it, and the adviser knew perfectly well the man was not only corrupt but careless. He had no doubt at all that an investigation would soon discover that Lady Damodara's agents had simply bought the gunpowder. Probably had it delivered to the palace in the munitions depot's own wagons.

Fortunately, his wife and two children had remained in their home town farther down the Ganges. With luck he could get there in time to get them out. He had enough money on his person to bribe the guards at the gate and even hire transport. There was considerably more money in their mansion. With that, they might be able to escape into Bengal somewhere...

Beyond that, he thought no further. There was no point in it. He could feel the Malwa Empire cracking and breaking under his feet. With that greatest of all the world's certainties shaking, what man could possibly foresee the future?

* * *

He made it out of the city. But, within a day, was captured by a cavalry patrol. The Emperor had soon considered that possibility also, and had placed a ban on any officials leaving Kausambi without written orders. By then, his savage punitive actions had terrified the city's soldiery enough that the guards at the gate whom the adviser had bribed prattled freely to the secret police.

Before noon of the next day, the adviser's body was on a stake outside Skandagupta's palace. Four days later, the bodies of his wife and two children joined him. The soldiers had some trouble fitting the boy, since he was only three.

Not much, however. By then, Skandagupta's fury was cutting through the imperial elite like a scythe, and small stakes were being prepared. Plenty of them.

* * *

"He's hysterical," Lady Damodara said, pinched-faced, after getting the latest news from one of the stable-keeper's sons. "Even for Skandagupta, this is insane."

Sanga's wife shifted a bit on her cushions. The cushions were thinner than she was used to, and—worse—their quarters were extremely crowded. The entire staff from the palace was crammed into the last stretch of the tunnel while they waited for the first search of the city to run its course. So were over a dozen miners. But she knew that even after they were able to move into the stables, in a few days, the conditions wouldn't improve all that much.

As places of exile went, the stables would be utterly wretched. As a place of refuge from the Malwa madness sweeping the city and leaving hundreds of people staked outside the imperial palace, however, it would be superb.

She gave the stable-keeper's son a level look. "Are you frightened, Tarun?"