The Moghul

for balance he suddenly noticed the dark outline of two more men approaching behind the guards at the door. In the shadows he could tell they were shirtless, wearing only dirty loincloths and the gray turbans of servants. They carried no weapons and had been attracted by the uproar.
    Looking quickly around the tent, he noticed the burning outline of his oil-soaked powder horn lying on the carpet near his feet. He kicked it toward the approaching guard and as it struck his leg, the cap jarred free, sending hissing powder flaming through the tent. The man stumbled backward in surprise and lowered his sword. Just as he did, Hawksworth saw one of the servants standing at the doorway slip a naked katar from his loincloth and seize the guard by the neck. He pulled the attacker around and with a flash of steel gutted him silently with a savage upward thrust. The other Imperial guard at the doorway turned just in time to watch the katar drawn by the second servant enter his own throat.
    Hawksworth stared in astonishment, realizing he had never before seen the two servants. Even now their faces were largely obscured by the loose ends of their turbans.
    He revolved to see the other two guards turning back toward the opening that had been cut through the side of the tent, still slapping at the burning oil on their uniforms. As they reached the opening, they seemed to hesitate momentarily, then stumbled backward. As they sprawled across the carpet in front of him, their throats cut, he saw two more grimy servants standing in the opening, holding bloody katars.
    The burning oil blazed across the fringe of a carpet and suddenly the interior of the tent was crisscrossed with fire.
    The four alien servants, all still holding katars, seemed to ignore the flames as they advanced on Shirin and Hawksworth without a word.
    He watched them for a moment in horror, then reached and groped blindly across the top of his sea chest. It was bare. Then he remembered Shirin's fall and he felt along the carpet behind the chest, next to where she stood.
    Just as the first man reached the edge of the chest, Hawksworth's hand closed around the handle of his katar.
    Jesus, what do they want? Did they kill the Imperial guards so they could have the pleasure of murdering us themselves?
    Bracing himself against the side of the chest, he swung the blade upward. He still could not see the attacker's face, masked behind the end of his turban.
    The man stepped deftly to the side and caught Hawksworth's wrist in a grip of iron, laughing out loud.
    "Never try to kill a Rajput with his own katar, Captain Hawksworth. He knows its temperament too well."
    Vasant Rao flipped back the ragged end of his turban.
    "What the bloody hell. . . !"
    "We've been waiting for you by Shirin's tent. It would appear your welcome here has run out." He glanced mockingly at Shirin. "So much for your famous Muslim hospitality."
    "You know very well who's responsible." Her eyes snapped back at him.
    "I can probably guess." Vasant Rao released Hawksworth's wrist and stared about the burning tent. "Are you ready to ride?"
    "What the hell are you doing here?"
    "This is hardly the spot for long explanations. The fact is I'm here tonight to lead some of our friends back to the camp of His Highness, the prince. And you, if you cared to join us." Vasant Rao signaled the men around him to move out through the doorway. The smoke was already growing dense. "I'm afraid your fire has made our departure that much more difficult. It wasn't a particularly good idea on your part. Now we have to ride quickly."
    "What about all this?" Hawksworth looked about the burning tent. "I have to . . ."
    "Just roll what you need in a carpet. If you're going with us, you'll have to leave now. Before the entire Imperial army comes to see us off."
    "But who'd want to kill us?" Hawksworth still could not move as he stared through the smoke.
    "Whoever it was, they'll probably succeed if we wait here talking much longer."
    Hawksworth turned on Shirin.
    "You knew!"
    "I couldn't tell you before. It would have been too dangerous." She quickly grabbed a carpet from the floor, stamping out the burning fringe, then flipped open Hawksworth's chest. She grabbed his lute, a handful of clothes, his boots, his books, and his depleted purse. As he watched in a daze, she rolled them in the carpet and shoved it into his hands. He looked around the burning tent one last time and caught the glint of his sword lying behind a tent pole.