comrades to care for him. If nothing else, he will become very weary."
"Where is he headed, do you think?" asked Pratap.
Sanga shrugged.
"Too soon to tell. He will probably head for Ajmer. In case he does not, we will split off smaller units to search for him in other towns. But I believe he will go to Ajmer, first. He needs to get out of the Ganges plain quickly, where there are a multitude of people watching. Into Rajputana, where there are not."
"Ajmer," mused Jaimal, stroking his beard. "Ajmer. From there, he can go south or west. South, along the foot of the Aravallis, toward the Gulf of Khambat. Maybe even Bharakuccha, where he could hope to rejoin his men."
"Or west," added Udai, "to Barbaricum."
"We will know soon enough," stated Sanga. He began striding toward the door. "Once he is out of the plains, he will start leaving tracks. We will find his tracks before Ajmer."
Less than a minute later, five hundred Rajputs set their horses into motion. Not a frenzied gallop; just the determined canter of expert horsemen, with a thousand and a half miles ahead of them.
He had never been a handsome man, true. But now, for the first time in his life, he was an object of ridicule.
Children's ridicule. Palace children.
Flat-face, they called him, behind his back. Or thought they did, not realizing how impossible it was to talk behind his back. The Frog, they snickered, or The Fish, or, most often, The Nose. Always, of course, in secret whispers. Not understanding, not in the least. The man noted the children, noted their names. Someday their powerful fathers would be dead.
Thinking of those distant days, the man smiled. Then, thinking
"Where is he headed, do you think?" asked Pratap.
Sanga shrugged.
"Too soon to tell. He will probably head for Ajmer. In case he does not, we will split off smaller units to search for him in other towns. But I believe he will go to Ajmer, first. He needs to get out of the Ganges plain quickly, where there are a multitude of people watching. Into Rajputana, where there are not."
"Ajmer," mused Jaimal, stroking his beard. "Ajmer. From there, he can go south or west. South, along the foot of the Aravallis, toward the Gulf of Khambat. Maybe even Bharakuccha, where he could hope to rejoin his men."
"Or west," added Udai, "to Barbaricum."
"We will know soon enough," stated Sanga. He began striding toward the door. "Once he is out of the plains, he will start leaving tracks. We will find his tracks before Ajmer."
Less than a minute later, five hundred Rajputs set their horses into motion. Not a frenzied gallop; just the determined canter of expert horsemen, with a thousand and a half miles ahead of them.
He had never been a handsome man, true. But now, for the first time in his life, he was an object of ridicule.
Children's ridicule. Palace children.
Flat-face, they called him, behind his back. Or thought they did, not realizing how impossible it was to talk behind his back. The Frog, they snickered, or The Fish, or, most often, The Nose. Always, of course, in secret whispers. Not understanding, not in the least. The man noted the children, noted their names. Someday their powerful fathers would be dead.
Thinking of those distant days, the man smiled. Then, thinking