"The rains arrived late, and they are leaving late," said Firuz Ihbal; he was as worried by the continuing downpour and thrashing winds as he had been apprehensive about their late appearance. He paced the gallery of his lavish house, occasionally turning to glare out at the wet.

"If it halts our work, it also halts Timur-i," said Iksander Mawan, his most trusted eunuch. "Allah is Great."

"If Timur-i is where we suppose he is, and if the rains are falling farther west as they are here, then perhaps you are right," said Firuz Ihbal at his most grudging. "I cannot say."

"And that is what most distresses you, Estimable Lord," said Iksander Mawan, his voice high and strong; there was nothing the least effeminate about him-not even his lack of a beard made him seem less a man for what had been done to him. "The men you have dispatched to scout for him have not returned and they are feared lost. This troubles you, as well it should. You fret because you do not know if they have fallen into the hands of Timur-i, and he has wrested information from them that may cause him to come here rather than attack another place, or if they have met with some other danger."

"Yes, yes, yes," Firuz Ihbal admitted impatiently. "I still hope that one of the scouts will come back, and shortly, to tell us what we are to face. We cannot prepare to meet a foe we do not know but that they are ferocious and cruel. Since the Sultan remains away from Delhi and it falls to me to act in his interests, I am willing to build up the army as much as possible, but I would prefer to know what we will have to fight with it before I empty the treasury."

"You have nothing to worry about," Iksander Mawan assured him. "You need only display all the might of Delhi, and Timur-i, demon though he may be, and servant of Shaitan, will hesitate to attack such fortifications as we have here."

"May Allah grant it," said Firuz Ihbal more devoutly than usual. "This city is strong, and our soldiers are prepared."

"Are you going to let your worries undermine your determination, Estimable Lord? or are you going to embrace your strength and show the people they have nothing to fear?" Iksander Mawan spread his large hand on his mail breastplate. "We stand by you, and by the Sultan. There can be no doubt that we have the might to prevail in any battle."

"Yes. Of course," said Firuz Ihbal. He clapped his hands, and at once a slave came and bent double before him. "I wish to see all the army commanders this evening, to hear their reports. Tell them they must attend or lose their commission." With a gesture he sent the slave running off.

"A prudent move," said Iksander Mawan. "Any dismay brewing in the army will surely end if it can be shown that the leaders are prepared and confident."

"Which I must find out if they are," said Firuz Ihbal with less satisfaction than Iksander Mawan expressed. "If we must deal with Timur-i, then we cannot be laggard." He began to pace again. "If only I knew what was happening in the west. Our scouts do not return, and that is ominous. I have spoken to leaders of caravans, and all they tell me is that Timur-i can move his troops at four-days' march in a single day."

"That is idle talk," said Iksander Mawan. "They cannot travel at such speeds."

"They say each man has six horses. Six. Every man leads five and rides one. When his mount tires, the soldier saddles another, and so forth, and the horse he has been riding becomes one of the led. The horses all rest at the end of the day, and then continue on the next morning. Doing that, they can move at a trot from dawn until sunset for four days. Then they must rest a day, or they lose horses." He pulled at the ends of his mustaches. "If it is so, and he does move his army in that way, he is as dangerous as they claim. We cannot hope to keep ahead of such a force."

"But six horses for each man! and moving at a trot all day? Even if it were possible, the cost of it is prohibitive. Think of the expense of keeping six horses per man. They would need an army just to maintain the animals. How are such horses to be fed and watered?" Iksander Mawan was shocked. "What leader can keep so many?"

"Apparently Timur-i can," said Firuz Ihbal unpleasantly.

"That is the kind of fear that will undermine us all," said Iksander Mawan, shaking his head. "You must shut such thoughts from your heart and put your faith in Allah-"

"Whom Timur-i also worships," Firuz Ihbal reminded him as he continued to move restlessly about the room. "This is not some unconverted fool, but another Muslim. Would that he had the ancient faith of the Jagatai, so that Allah could show His Greatness by overcoming Timur-i on our behalf. But Timur-i prays five times a day as we do, and to Allah. How can the All-Compassionate favor one of us over the other?"

"Surely Timur-i's devotion is not so whole-hearted as yours," said Iksander Mawan. "The man is in the saddle from sunrise until sunset-you have said it yourself. He cannot be as pious as you and all the Tughluq clan is."

"You are hoping to ease my apprehension, and it is kindly of you, but at this time, I reckon that apprehension serves me well, and it is Allah Himself Who inspires it in my breast, not some trivial worry sprung from a lack of faith." Firuz Ihbal paused at the window. "The markets have been poor. Many merchants will not pay our customs and take their goods elsewhere, yet this is the time we need their goods, and their news, the most."

"Lower the customs," Iksander Mawan recommended. "Say it is because the rains have lasted so long, but give the merchants some concession so they will enter the city again."

"If the Sultan will approve such a reduction, then that may be the solution," said Firuz Ihbal, a bit sadly. "It would be better to have the money and the information, but you are probably right, and information is needed as much as goods."

"So it seems to me," said Iksander Mawan. "You may want to consult with your kinsmen, particularly Murmar bin Tughluq."

"Yes. He is still Minister of Taxes, Rents, and Revenues. He has been lining his pockets since the customs increased, but he might consent to take less for himself if he can be made to understand the urgency of the situation." He tugged at his moustaches again. "I will have to speak with him carefully. I do not want it said that I am working against the Sultan's interests."

"No, indeed," said Iksander Mawan, recalling the prolonged and hideous execution of the last official accused of such chicanery. "Better to show your devotion first and question the motives of others after your own are established."

"You are a wise fellow, Iksander Mawan," said Firuz Ihbal. "I will keep all you have said in mind. Now I will see my informers." It was an abrupt decision, but not an unexpected one. "Show them to the ante-chamber of the Yellow Room. I will see them individually. You will listen behind the ivory screen and give me your opinion when they have gone."

Iksander Mawan put his hands together and bowed. "As you wish, Estimable Lord, I will do."

"I am grateful," said Firuz Ihbal without much thought. "I will begin shortly."

"It shall be as you desire," said Iksander Mawan, and withdrew from Firuz Ihbal's presence. Once out of the private apartment, he strode along the palace corridor with purpose, inwardly pleased that other household slaves made way for him. As he reached the reception area, he found five undistinguished men waiting, all of them silent, and most unwilling to look at the others; one glanced about nervously from time to time. "Workers for Firuz Ihbal, come with me."

The five rose in response to Iksander Mawan's order, moving awkwardly, as if trying not be associated with one another. They formed an irregular cluster beside the handsome eunuch and allowed him to lead them back along the course he had come.

"Whom will he see first?" asked the man with a patch over one eye and a jagged scar on his jaw; he was known as Mirza and was known as Firuz Ihbal's assassin among the criminals of Delhi. "And how long will we have to wait to give our report?"

"That will be the pleasure of Firuz Ihbal to decide," said Iksander Mawan. "I will see to it that you have food and drink if you must long remain here for your audience."

"Just as well," said Josha Dar, who had already waited longer than he wanted to.

"You will be thankful for the attention of Firuz Ihbal," said Iksander Mawan bluntly.

"Why? He isn't Nasiruddin Mohammed bin Tughluq, is he?" The man who spoke the Sultan's name aloud was a thick-set, arrogant fellow who had the look of a bully.

The others stopped still and stared at him. Finally Iksander Mawan moved to confront the man. "You have done an importunate thing, Itimad, to speak the Sultan's name. You shall be punished for it." He clapped his hands, summoning a fair number of slaves. "Take him."

Itimad shouted his protests. "The Sultan is a coward! He has left us to face Timur-i alone! He should be driven from all Delhi!"

Iksander Mawan raised his hand and struck Itimad a blow that sent him reeling. "Enough!" he bellowed. "This man disgraces the Sultan in his palace. Have him flogged and his arms broken so he can do no more mischief, and turn him out of the city. Do it now!"

Watching this, Josha Dar felt himself go cold. He did not hold the Sultan in high regard, but he knew better than to proclaim this to the world-and in the halls of the Sultan's palace. He licked his lips as he saw Itimad dragged away, still shouting, and struggling in the grip of the four slaves who held him.

"Come along," Iksander Mawan said to the remaining four.

"What if Itimad has useful information?" asked the one-eyed man.

"We will discover it," Iksander Mawan said, so coldly that the four men with him moved a little farther away from him, and followed him in silence back to Firuz Ihbal's apartments.

Firuz Ihbal saw the oldest of his informers first: an aged man, bent, and walking with a stick, but with sharp eyes and keen ears. "You have something to tell me, Bahbu. I am listening."

Bahbu began at once. "In the markets I have heard that many men traveling from the west have been taken captive and sold into slavery among the Afghani people. They do this so that their men may continue to fight their invaders. They also seize goods bound for our city, and they demand high prices for it in their markets."

"That is nothing new," said Firuz Ihbal critically. "You must have something to say that is more important."

"I have heard that there are followers of the Brahmin gods who are conspiring to mount opposition to the Sultan and to bring him down before Timur-i can arrive and destroy the city. They are afraid that the Sultan will desert them in time of need, and leave them to Timur-i's army. They plan to offer him the rights of plunder if he will spare Delhi." Bahbu shivered as he clung to his walking-stick, knowing that Firuz Ihbal might lash out at him for such an accusation.

"And do you believe that?" Firuz Ihbal asked smoothly. "Do you think they will do such a thing?"

"I think they will try," said Bahbu. "Or at least, I think they intend to try. They are certain that Delhi will be sacked and razed and all its people slaughtered if any attempt is made to defend it."

"Do you agree with them? that Timur-i will destroy this place?" Firuz Ihbal was pulling on his moustaches as he gave his full attention to the old man.

"I think it may come to that," Bahbu said quietly, cringing.

"And so you agree with the traitors?" Firuz Ihbal asked smoothly.

"Not with what they plan to do, no," said Bahbu at his most ingratiating. "But I think if Timur-i comes here, he will want to ruin the city."

"And do you think he can be bribed?" Firuz Ihbal pursued.

"I have no idea; Timur-i is not reputed to be influenced by bribes, but he may accept one if it is grand enough. I do know that Timur-i is said to enjoy carnage and to take satisfaction in devastation." He stood very still, half-expecting to be struck for his temerity.

"Anything else?" Firuz Ihbal asked after a short, nerve-wracking silence.

"No," said Bahbu, who wanted only to escape from the palace and return to his begging-place in the Camel-Drivers' Market.

Firuz Ihbal tossed him two silver coins. "Go with the thanks of the Sultan," he said, and called for Iksander Mawan. "See him out and bring me Mirza."

"That I will," said Iksander Mawan, all but picking Bahbu up and carrying him out of the room. "Mirza," he said to the waiting men as he shoved Bahbu along.

Mirza rose from the bench where he sat and went to make his report.

"Never mind what you have to tell me," Firuz Ihbal said abruptly as soon as Iksander Mawan had withdrawn from the room. "The others will give me reports enough. I need you to tend to a private matter for me. And as soon as possible."

"What might that be?" said Mirza, smiling a little.

"I have a cousin who is proving a nuisance," said Firuz Ihbal in a measured way. "I have done my best to reason with him, but without success. He must not be allowed to interfere in these dangerous times. In fact, he must be prevented from continuing his reckless policies. I rely on you to find a time and place to rectify the situation-away from the palace-"

"Of course," said Mirza quickly, not wanting to hear the order aloud.

"Of course; you understand," Firuz Ihbal agreed. "It must appear that robbers did it; all his slaves with him must be killed, and his escort."

Mirza nodded, doing his best to maintain his calm demeanor. "I will need to have help to do as you require," he pointed out. "It will be costly."

"I would expect so," said Firuz Ihbal.

"My men will need to be paid for their silence," Mirza added.

"If they will not accept a single payment, you must see that your men do not live to speak of it," said Firuz Ihbal.

Mirza bristled at this. "I will not kill my own men."

"You will if you wish to continue to live to serve me," said Firuz Ihbal in a tone of such utter certainty that Mirza was shaken. "You will tend to the matter before the next full moon, and you will do all that you can to be sure that nothing is attributed to you, or to me."

"If you tell me so," said Mirza. "But your cousin may be as wellguarded as you are. I cannot assume otherwise."

"Perhaps not," said Firuz Ihbal. "But you are a subtle man, and you have been able to get around guards before now."

"And I may again, if your cousin is not suspicious." He faltered, not knowing if he should ask. "Which cousin do you wish to have ... moved out of your way?"

"Murmar bin Tughluq," said Firuz Ihbal very softly.

Mirza paled. "The Minister of Taxes, Rents, and Revenues!" He shook his head. "The man has an army about him."

"Which he pays with misgotten gold," said Firuz Ihbal. "He is draining the treasury while he raises the taxes to equip the army, or so he claims. More of the money goes into his coffers than into soldiers' pay." He coughed. "If we are to be ready to face Timur-i, we must spend money now, on those things that will make us safe."

"But it is so great a chance," said Mirza. "If we do not succeed"-he dared not say fail-"we will be executed after torture, and-"

"If you do not succeed, you must spare yourself suffering and kill yourself, as must all your men." Firuz Ihbal scowled. "We must also slow down the departure of foreigners from the city. We need their taxes and we can use them to bargain with Timur-i if it comes to that."

Mirza nodded slowly. "Your cousin is not doing that."

"My cousin is making money from them, taxing them as they depart at a rate that rises steadily. I have supported this in the past but now I am less certain that this is as wise as I thought at first, for I assumed many would remain to avoid the taxation. It seems now that this is not the case, for many of the foreigners are accepting the terms of departure, leaving us with only a few rich merchants to depend upon."

"But killing your cousin," Mirza whispered. "How could that make a difference?"

"It could because I will then be appointed to his post, and I will institute better policies." There was no doubt that Firuz Ihbal was satisfied with this arrangement. "I have put my plans before my cousin and he has ignored them, no matter how beneficial they are."

"And you are certain you would be the new Minister?" Mirza asked, his voice still low; he glanced uneasily about, fearing they were observed.

"I am," said Firuz Ihbal. "I have been assured I would be." He paused. "You have to do this. There will be a handsome reward for your work, and advancement as well. You will be my immediate personal protector, and that will mean privilege and favor beyond anything you have known before."

Mirza shook his head. "It will not be easy."

"No, it will not," Firuz Ihbal agreed. "Yet I am sure you can accomplish the deed in a way that will satisfy us all."

"Some will suspect you," Mirza warned him. "If you are advanced by his death, you will be under suspicion."

"There is nothing new in such suspicions," said Firuz Ihbal. "My great-grandfather, the Sultan Mohammed bin Tughluq was rumored to have killed his father to gain the throne, and he regularly ordered rebellious subjects murdered. Yet he is considered a fine Sultan, and our House still rules Delhi."

"True," Mirza conceded.

"You do not need to worry about tongues wagging. It will mean little to me once I am Minister. It should not mean anything to you, either." Firuz Ihbal motioned to Mirza to come nearer. "You should not fear this plan. It opens your future."

"Very well," said Mirza, his capitulation indicated by a slow nod.

"Excellent." Firuz Ihbal beamed at him. "I want you to begin your efforts quickly, and make them worthy of me. I will await word of your success." He motioned to Mirza. "You may depart. I will see Josha Dar next. Tell Iksander Mawan to admit him."

Mirza pressed his hands together and bowed before leaving the chamber. He found the eunuch waiting near the door. "He wants Josha Dar next."

"I will attend to it," said Iksander Mawan, waiting while Mirza started toward the side-door through which he had been admitted. "Take care not to be observed."

"I know what is expected of me," said Mirza as he prepared to slip out of the palace and into the narrow alley-way.

"Then go, and Allah show you His Compassion," said Iksander Mawan before he went to fetch Josha Dar.

A sudden, high shriek rent the palace air-Itimad was being punished. A second one followed, with a curse hidden in it.

Iksander Mawan looked steadily at Josha Dar, who was trying to walk on as if he had heard nothing. "Thus to all who would harm the Sultan," he said righteously.

"Allah is Great," said Josha Dar, his thoughts in disorder. He strove to restore his composure, and had very nearly succeeded by the time Iksander Mawan opened the door to the private audience chamber.

"There you are," said Firuz Ihbal, nodding once to Josha Dar. "Have you something to tell me?"

For an instant, Josha Dar trembled, then he touched his fingers together and bowed. "Yes, Estimable Lord, I do have information for you."

"Well, and what is it?" Firuz Ihbal asked, his tone level and his eyes hard.

"I have spoken to a pilgrim returning from Mecca, and he has imparted to me the most recent activity of Timur-i and his army." He hoped that no one else had such current news as he, for Firuz Ihbal would not look favorably upon old or inaccurate information. "He is said to be bound for Kabul."

"Kabul?" Firuz Ihbal scoffed. "No one has ever defeated those wild men. This time Timur-i will be stopped and we will be spared."

"From there, he is bound for Lahore," Josha Dar added, wincing as he spoke. "He could reach us after the dark of the year."

"If he can make his way from Kabul," said Firuz Ihbal. "You say this report is reliable?"

"A pilgrim returning from Mecca would have no reason to lie about such a thing." Josha Dar shrugged. "I can find the pilgrim and bring him to you, if you want." He hoped Firuz Ihbal would not make such a request, for he feared the pilgrim had already left the city.

"No, no," said Firuz Ihbal. "A man on a pilgrimage is not to be interfered with." He cocked his head. "What of the tales of Timur-i being killed or overthrown?"

"I have heard them, of course," said Josha Dar. "And they may be true, but that doesn't change the danger his army represents. If Timur-i is gone, he has a successor, you may be sure of that."

"So you have nothing to report that makes it clear what has become of him?" Firuz Ihbal pulled at his moustaches. "It would be better if we know."

"I will do my best to find out," Josha Dar promised. "I have also heard that your kinsman, Balban Ihbal, may be working against the Sultan, in the hope of putting Asaf bin Tughluq in his place."

Firuz Ihbal went still. "Balban Ihbal? Supports our second cousin? The man is a capable soldier, but he cannot lead Delhi, not in the face of Timur-i," he said at last, horrified at the magnitude of this treachery. "I am in charge of the army. I know which of the officers have the support of the men."

Josha Dar realized he had hit upon something valuable. "But Balban Ihbal knows the mood of Delhi. Without the Sultan here, there is a sense in the people that they are no longer protected. I believe it is the intention of Balban Ihbal to find someone who can keep the city safe." He had to go carefully, aware that Firuz Ihbal, like all the Tughluqs, had a volatile temper. "He is trying to stem the tide of people leaving the city. He wants to preserve-"

"He hasn't the least notion how that is to be done," Firuz Ihbal interrupted. "My cousin has his abilities, but he is also greedy, willing to accept bribes and to hold himself ready to serve those with the most wealth."

"It is possible that he might be pleased to help you, had you a candidate to offer," Josha Dar suggested. "You should discuss this with him."

"I think not," said Firuz Ihbal in a thoughtful tone; he changed abruptly, waving Josha Dar away. "I have a great deal to do. You have given me much to think about."

"It is my pleasure to serve you," said Josha Dar, bowing deeply.

"You also want gold from me," Firuz Ihbal growled. "Still, I will buy your diligence and your silence. If one syllable of this is heard beyond these walls, I will know who has uttered them and I will know you for my enemy." He tossed four gold coins to Josha Dar.

Josha Dar caught them adroitly. "You are most kind," he said as he slipped the money into a pouch hidden in his clothing.

"I know what is worth the price," said Firuz Ihbal. "I will need your report again in two days."

"I may not learn anything in two days," Josha Dar protested, paling.

"You had better," Firuz Ihbal recommended. "If you do not, you will have little reason to rejoice."

"Yes, Splendid One," Josha Dar said, retreating from the threat he had just received. "In two days."

"Before mid-day prayers," Firuz Ihbal added. "Iksander Mawan will admit you."

"Yes, Splendid One," Josha Dar repeated as he backed toward the door; the gold in his pouch seemed to be made of fire, for it felt as if it burned his skin. He was grateful when the door between them closed and Iksander Mawan appeared to show him out of the palace.

Text of a letter from Rojire to Sanat Ji Mani, written in Imperial Latin at Yemen and carried by Sanat Ji Mani's ship Wave Racer to Cambay in Gujerat, and from there by messenger to Delhi; never delivered.

To my master, called Sanat Ji Mani, living at Delhi, from the servant known as Rojire, greetings from Yemen.

We have reached this port without trouble or difficulty, and the prospect for a swift journey up the Red Sea is very good. The rains are behind us, so the seas have been fairly calm, and we anticipate more of the same. All your goods and belongings have come through the voyage without serious damage, and should continue to do well for the rest of our travels.

The place we did find trouble was Gujerat-there is great unrest there, and the belief that Delhi has become so weak that it cannot defend itself, let alone them. I would not be astonished to learn that the region has separated itself from its ties with Delhi, especially if Timur-i comes into the region. If the Sultan is relying on Gujerat to support him, he may be disappointed, nor do I think Gujerat is the only part of the Delhi Empire that will fail to support the city. You may have to find another way to the sea than through Gujerat to Cambay. I would not think it is a safe place for a foreigner to be.

Avasa Dani has been ill for most of the voyage-the sea does not agree with her: it may be that your blood is working in her already, though she has not yet come to your life. Whatever the case, she has passed several wretched days in her bed. I have tended her as I said I would, and she has not fallen into any lethargy or taken a fever yet. Now we are on land again, she swears she will not board a ship again, but she also knows that she must.

Yemen now is not the Yemen of a thousand years ago. It is no longer powerful and rich as it was; the old fortifications are gone, and they no longer control all the traffic into the Red Sea as they once did. What they now call the Years of Dark Storms, and the Chinese call the Year of Yellow Snow, took a toll from which they have not recovered. Many cities suffered in that time, but few of them retain the scars quite as visibly as Yemen does.

Rustam Iniattir and his family have been much troubled by second thoughts, and one of his children cries every day, wanting to return to Delhi. I cannot blame him for his doubts, but I believe what he saw in Gujerat unnerved him enough to convince him that he has made the right decision in leaving Delhi; until he saw that unrest, I believe he was afraid he had made a mistake in leaving Delhi, after all. Now he is saying that if Timur-i does not attack the city, there may still be rebellion in the streets, and should that happen, foreigners will suffer the most, especially if the Sultan does nothing to protect them, and he is preparing a letter to his nephew even as I write this to you. You, of course, need no such warning for your protection, do you?

I have decided that we will journey to your house in Alexandria, and there Avasa Dani may devote herself to the study she so enjoys. There are not many of her countrymen there, and she will have to abide by the laws of Islam, but still, I believe it will be safer in Alexandria than in Tyre or other cities in the eastern arm of the Mameluke Empire: Timur-i has sacked Baghdad and could still strike toward Egypt. If we reside at Alexandria, we will be more protected and, should Timur-i come this way, we will have the sea by which to escape. If it comes to that, we will go to your old villa outside Roma. It may be a ruin, but we can manage there for a while, and you can find us without difficulty. I have been offered the opportunity to stay with the ship when it leaves the Red Sea and continues down the east coast of Africa, but I have turned down the kind offer-a man with light skin, sandy hair, and blue eyes may not stand out over-much in Alexandria, but in the south of Africa, I would be set apart at once, and no one would consider me anything but foreign; under such circumstances, I could do little to guard Avasa Dani, or to hide myself if it were necessary.

All of your goods that we carry with us have survived the voyage, including your red-lacquer Roman chest, although there is a new scrape on its side. The four chests of your native earth are in fine condition, and the container of jewels is still intact. You have no reason to fret about any of these things, for I can think of no reason why they should not reach Alexandria as intact as they are now-the pirates who have prowled these coasts like wolves are raiding farther south along the coast of Africa, for they do not want to be captured by those dispensing Timur-i's justice; the sailors all assure me that we can continue the voyage without fear of attack, although they carry weapons against such a possibility.

We will leave in two days, but I wished to send this to you while I have the opportunity to give this to one of your ships' captains. I hope he will be diligent in having this placed in your hands before spring.

As I am writing in Latin, I will sign myself by my name as it was when I lived

Rogerian

On October 24th, 1398, according to the Coptic priest who keeps an old chapel here