Djerat reached the edge of Kabul on a windy afternoon; from the rise south of the city she could see the banners of Timur-i's army skidding on the wind, and she sighed her relief; it had been a long journey, she had lost another mule since striking out on her own, but finally she was back where she knew she was welcome. She drove around the edge of the city to the encampment on the north-west side of the walls, knowing she was a strange sight, with the tent on her wagon half-gone, the stays holding it upright broken, and her harness made of ropes instead of leather; she began looking for the tents of entertainers, trusting she would not be stopped before she reached them. The odor of cooking lamb made her stomach growl, for she had not eaten more than a handful of boiled lentils for the last three days.
"It's Djerat!" shouted the stilt-walker as he saw her approach down an avenue of wagons and tents. "Look! She's alive!"
There was a bit of excitement as this news spread, and it grew, accompanying her along the avenue between the wagons and tents; half-a-dozen tumblers came out of their tents to welcome her back, and one of them did a back-flip in appreciation, then a few jugglers hurried toward her, one of them throwing axes in celebration. A few women came out of the entertainers' tents, one or two of them smiling. More shouts of greeting came, and finally Keiglu, the Master of Jugglers, came from his tent-the largest of those in the entertainers' sector-and motioned to Djerat to stop her wagon. "Djerat: what a happy surprise; we counted you among the lost," he said to her without any of the usual formalities of welcome.
"And so I thought I was, many times, since the moment we were overset into the river," she said, tugging her worn hempen reins before climbing down from the driving-seat. "On the road here I often feared I would never see Timur-i's army again." She matched his brusque manner with her own. "It has been a difficult task to get here."
"I should think it was," said Keiglu, awaiting an explanation.
"I am famished. My mules are, too. Let us have something to eat and then I shall tell you everything," she said. "And something to drink. We are all thirsty, my mules and I."
"No doubt," said Keiglu, and clapped his hands. "She is hungry. See she is given some food." Two of Keiglu's slaves went scurrying off to do his bidding while he approached her wagon. "You have much to account for," he said, turning from her wagon to her.
"I will need a new wagon; I will do what work I must to get it-I expect no favor," she conceded under his narrow scrutiny. "I was afraid I would lose a wheel before I reached this place. If you look at them, you will see why. One is not straight on the axle. The roads are rocky and without help, alone and unguarded, some of the places through which I passed ..." Her words straggled off. She stopped herself from an unseemly display of weakness. "You traveled here. I need not tell you how the roads are."
"Some are very hard," Keiglu declared as if to accept an apology. He came up to her. "Yet you came back to us."
"Yes. I came." Djerat could not conceal her pride in her accomplishment; she stood a bit straighter. "It took many, many days, as any who can count will know, but I was not discouraged."
"That is to your credit," said Keiglu. "Yours is a feat worthy of praise."
A few of those in the crowd gathered around shouted agreement, and someone hooted a cheer. There was a murmur of comments that moved through the crowd with the wind.
"Why did you come back?" Keiglu asked, so casually that Djerat sensed a trap.
"Wherelse should I come? this is my home. You are my family." She looked around, trying to smile. "I belong here: with you."
"Yet you return alone," said Keiglu. "What of Tulsi Kil? What of the foreigner with the burned skin?"
"They are ... gone," she said, and was about to go on when a skinny man in ill-fitting clothes came through the crowd gathered around her and her wagon; Djerat gazed at him a moment, her thoughts uneasy, then she went on, "They left my wagon days ago, when I turned north to find you."
"Then they are still alive?" Keiglu asked.
"I cannot say. I would doubt it," Djerat replied. "They had little food, few supplies, and his foot is in Timur-i's stirrup. They cannot travel fast or far. They cannot fight. There are only two of them. No, I do not think they would live long in such conditions."
"How many days ago was that?" Keiglu held up both hands, fingers spread. "More than this?"
"Yes," said Djerat. "I recall it was sixteen days ago." It was nineteen, but Djerat was wary of the skinny stranger, who was known to be Timur-i's spy.
"Tell me the whole of it," said Josha Dar. "I will give my report to Timur-i himself, for he will want to know what became of Sanat Ji Mani."
Djerat spat. "Him! He was worse than anything! Useless foreigner!" She pointed at Josha Dar. "You will tell Timur-i that his high regard was wasted on that foreigner; he is well-rid of that feckless creature."
A buzz of conversation went through the gathered throng: this smacked of intrigue, and all of them wanted to hear more.
"Why do you say that?" Josha Dar inquired, so politely that Djerat felt sullied by him.
"What good is he-was he? He has some skill with herbs, but so do half the women in this camp. He could set limbs, but any farrier can do that." Djerat looked directly at Josha Dar. "You may say what you like, I know this man is a leech, living on the good opinion of those gullible enough to believe his claims."
"But he served Timur-i," said Keiglu, upset by Djerat's animosity.
"He did nothing to deserve your praise?" Josha Dar asked, almost servile in his manner, which distressed Djerat far more than Keiglu's distress. "Well?"
"He did care for my mules. He is good with mules," she said reluctantly. "In his way he is clever, but he did not show more than competence in other matters. And because of his skin, he had to ride under the tent by day, as indolent as a dancing girl. What kind of man does this?" Too late she remembered that Timur-i had had a white-skinned brother. "His eyes are dark, remember, not red."
"Still," Josha Dar said quietly, "it might be best not to say that too frequently." He leaned forward. "How did he and the tumbler come to leave you?"
Now the crowd was fully engaged, and a few of them tried to move closer to hear her answer; Keiglu frowned, and a few moved back, but most paid him no heed, watching Djerat, their expressions intent, most of them holding their breath. In spite of her dawning apprehension, Djerat was secretly delighted to be the center of so much attention. She wished she had had a little time to neaten herself before talking to Keiglu and the rest, but she determined to make the most of this opportunity; she had been preparing her account for days, rehearsing it mentally as she followed Timur-i's army along the hard mountain roads.
"When the ferry overturned, we were swept away with the others. Apparently Sanat Ji Mani jumped into the river with the intention of saving us, but he is not a strong swimmer and so was more hindrance than help to us. We rode the current a considerable distance. Two of my mules drowned, and the rest were battered about by rocks; they were tangled in the harness and eventually the harness had to be cut away, or all of us would have been pulled under. As it was, we clung to the wagon and hoped to find a place to come ashore. From time to time, we saw bodies of those from the ferry who were less fortunate than we; they fell away, trapped by eddies and the boulders, and eventually, only we were left in the swift river, and we were at the mercy of the river's caprice. We came out of the hills to the opening of a vast, dry plain, and it was there we were finally able to reach the banks without coming to harm." She looked at Keiglu. "I do not know how far we went, but it was a great distance. We spent our first night under a single tree, a fire our only protection against lions and jackals. Half the night we made new harness out of ropes, and then Tulsi Kil and I slept while Sanat Ji Mani tended the fire and cared for the four mules left to me. When we rose in the morning, we saw that the land before us was parched, and empty of villages we could see. So we began to retrace the river and eventually we reached a cattle-ford that led to a small farming village. By then there was a rise in the land, and the village had farms; we were going away from the arid wastes, which we all knew was wise."
"You were planning to come back to Timur-i's army?" Josha Dar asked when she faltered.
"Yes. From the first I had no other intention." She pursed her lips indignantly. "But Sanat Ji Mani had other plans. He quickly used his wiles to inveigle Tulsi Kil to take his part and to plan to go another way; he spent time with her, poisoning her thoughts against me and against life with Timur-i's army: there was nothing I could do to convince her of his perfidy. You know how young women are when a personable man shows them a little notice-they lose all sense and bend their will to the man's whim, and so it was with Tulsi Kil. Everything Sanat Ji Mani said she drank as if it were the waters of life itself, and to me-her friend from the death of her parents to that very hour-she paid no heed, preferring the foreigner and his ridiculous promises to her duty and the love of a comrade."
Keiglu shook his head. "What despicable behavior. She is a girl without honor."
"Oh, no," said Djerat quickly. "She is only caught in the clouds by a man with persuasive ways; you must not blame her for what he did. She has never met anyone like him; he fascinated her, and she fell under his spell as surely as if he were a magician and not a healer." She did her best to sound disappointed rather than angry. "It is not her fault that Sanat Ji Mani is the kind of man who uses women to his own ends. Let no one here think that she lost all her character; say, rather, that her qualities were subverted by a villain."
Josha Dar studied Djerat for a short while, then said, "I would not have thought Sanat Ji Mani would so abuse anyone. He did nothing of the sort in Delhi; there he behaved with utmost propriety."
"Perhaps in Delhi he was not tested, or he was able to hide his activities ..." She realized that last had been a mistake.
"He could not hide from me," said Josha Dar caustically.
"No. No, of course not." Djerat stared at Keiglu, hoping he would help her out of the morass she had made for herself.
He did. "How did it all come to a head? You said you had crossed the river to a village?"
Almost giddy with relief, Djerat resumed her story, gathering confidence as she went along. "At the village where, I told you, we wanted to get food, he demanded that Tulsi Kil remain with him, and cursed me for wanting to return to you. He did not listen to anything I said, nor did he let Tulsi Kil question him in regard to his decision; using bluster and menace to coerce her into taking his part, then offering her flattery and blandishments for acquiescence. You would have been troubled, had you seen him: he was most immoderate in his demeanor-he bullied the poor girl, threatening her and plying her with sweet words by turn. He ignored me, saying I had no part in her decision, and dismissing my protests as those without merit." She folded her arms. "He compelled her to perform for the villagers to pay for our food, and then he disdained what she had provided."
"You mean he would not permit her to eat?" Keiglu asked irascibly; he was dissatisfied with what he heard and would have said more, but Josha Dar motioned him to silence.
"No. He would not touch it himself," said Djerat. "It was not fine enough for him: she had done all she could to get it, and yet it was beneath him to take any of it. He did not care if she had any of it."
"And did you eat it?" Josha Dar inquired with a smile.
"Yes. I was hungry and I would never look down on food got by honest endeavor, no matter how simple it might be." She tossed her head. "You may think this is making too much of a minor thing, but it is not. I traveled with this man in my wagon, and I know more of him than any of you." She looked away from Josha Dar. "This man expressed contempt for everything Tulsi Kil did for him; he made no apology for his behavior and he would not allow for her feelings except those that added to his own high opinion of himself."
Josha Dar coughed delicately. "That may be your opinion: I observed the foreigner for the greater part of a year and I never saw him evince such things as you describe." He shrugged. "But as you say, the conditions on the road were not the conditions at Delhi."
"True enough," said Djerat, uneasiness making her sullen. "I cannot assume that he wanted anything more than to be served and gratified. While I was coming back to this army, I decided that he was pleased by being able to bend Tulsi to his will as much as he wanted her subservience. It was a sport to him, a way to show his prowess." She swung around to face Keiglu. "You have seen such men before, as have I."
"That I have," said Keiglu. "There are many who keep entertainers around them to add to their consequence, not to provide them amusement, but to show others that they can keep men and women for nothing more than their diversion. So long as we can regale them with our feats to their order, they treat us well." He coughed and added hastily. "Of course, Timur-i is not such a man: he keeps us for the delight of his soldiers, for the relief of the tedium of campaigning, and for those who come to him to negotiate their capitulations."
"It is as well that you know this," said Josha Dar, and stared at Djerat again. "You say you left Sanat Ji Mani and the tumbler Tulsi Kil at the village at the cattle-ford?"
She realized Josha Dar was not about to let the matter go. "Because he insisted, yes. He declared they would be able to walk far enough away that they could not be found. He called the wrath of his gods down on Timur-i's head-"
"As do so many who have tested his will," Josha Dar interjected.
Djerat scowled. "Timur-i showed Sanat Ji Mani mercy, and the foreigner has rewarded him with treachery."
"So you say," Josha Dar responded.
"What else would you call it?" Djerat exclaimed. "You cannot tell me that refusing to come back to the army is an act of loyalty."
"It may be, but not loyalty to Timur-i," said Josha Dar. "Did he say nothing of where he intended to go, or why?"
"He spoke of going east," Djerat said, a sour note in her voice.
"Which means south or west," said Josha Dar, certain that Sanat Ji Mani would not be so reckless as to reveal his plans to Djerat. "Probably south. Had he wished to go north, he would have crossed the river with you. He would have to cross the river again to go west, as well. So it is south." He paused, considering the possibilities. "Or he and Tulsi Kil may have gone along the Sutlej and crossed at another point. That would be the most useful thing to do, for he would know that if ever we received report of him, we would look for him in the wrong places." He pointed at Djerat. "You tell us he is persuasive, but you were not caught up in his devices; Tulsi Kil was. How did that come about?"
Djerat was getting angry but struggled to disguise it. "He chose to work on her; I drove the wagon-she rode with him, providing him an opportunity to engage her. If you have heard him speak, you know how interesting his discourse can be. Tulsi Kil listened to his tales as if they were the adventures of heros." Under the thick hair on her face she could feel her skin darkening with emotion. "Had he ridden beside me on the driving-seat, he might have used his wiles on me."
"Possibly," said Josha Dar. "And yet I am uncertain." He pulled at his lower lip. "I think you should tell all this to Timur-i, for he wishes to know what has become of Sanat Ji Mani; he has said so."
Had going before Timur-i been her idea, Djerat would have been delighted by the prospect; as it was, she balked. "You cannot do this; I have not eaten, my team is weary, I am unprepared. Why should Timur-i want to know the fates of a foreigner and a tumbler?"
"That is not for you to know, or for me." Josha Dar reached out and took her by the elbow. "Keiglu will attend to your wagon and see your mules are fed and watered. You must come with me."
Djerat struggled against him, even though it was unwise. "Let me go. I will walk beside you. I am no thief, to be hauled along by the likes of you."
Josha Dar chuckled but released his hold. "It is all one to me how you come, so long as you do come."
"You behave as if I have offended Timur-i in some way," she went on, trying to regain the advantage.
"If you lie-Timur-i hates liars beyond all things-you will offend Timur-i, and you will pay for it," Josha Dar said.
"You do not think I am lying," Djerat protested. "You cannot think I would lie after all I have done to return here. I was alone on the roads for many days, and I could think of nothing more than the joy of coming once again to the army. If I intended to lie, I might have found a number of more convincing tales to tell than that Sanat Ji Mani and Tulsi refused to accompany me."
"I do not think you are lying," said Josha Dar as they passed beyond the ranks of wagons and tents to the massed companies of fighting men, all in their company colors with their weapons in place as they made ready for Timur-i's inspection.
"Then why do you accuse me?" Djerat asked, almost too confused to be angry.
"I do not think you are telling the truth," said Josha Dar.
"But-" Djerat began, and floundered.
"Lying and not telling the truth are not the same things," Josha Dar said. "As a spy, I know that better than anyone." He stopped walking as a mounted company of archers in green clattered past in double-file. "Those who do not tell the truth without lying are the most dangerous of all deceivers, for they often deceive themselves."
"I do not have to endure this," said Djerat.
"If you wish to remain with the army, you do," said Josha Dar. "Do not think that because I am from Delhi I do not have Timur-i's ear, for I do. I proved my worth to him when he conquered my city. I knew then that I must serve him or lose my life, and so I have pledged my devotion to him. I know the penalty if I traduce him."
"Which you hope to avert by calumny against others," she finished for him; they were approaching the front line of the inspection and Djerat was becoming agitated.
"No; I will do what I pledged to do, as I am doing now," he said, and stepped up to the edge of the lines of mounted soldiers. "There he is." He pointed down the front of the Red Company; at the far end, the company leader had dismounted and was leading Timur-i's mouse-colored horse by the bridle along the front of his soldiers. "As soon as he reaches us, I will present you to him, to give your account."
"In front of all these?" She flung her hand out, indicating the army.
"It will suit Timur-i very well," said Josha Dar.
"And you as well, I think," said Djerat, watching as Timur-i came nearer.
Josha Dar said nothing; he dropped to his knees and bowed his face to the ground, and after a moment, Djerat did the same.
It was a while before Timur-i came abreast of them; he signaled to the Red Company leader to halt. "The Delhi spy is here," he said, with no hint of emotion. "And the hairy woman. She was gone for a time. Why do you stop me here?"
"I hasten to obey your commands, Exalted Lord: you asked to be told if any report was made concerning those lost in the capsizing ferry," said Josha Dar, daring to speak. "She has just returned to the camp and has information to impart to you."
"Ah." Timur-i motioned to the Red Company leader to leave him. "You brought her to me for that?"
"It was your wish to learn what became of her, and the foreign healer who rode in her wagon," Josha Dar reminded Timur-i.
"So it was. I could have used the foreigner's skills after the skirmish yesterday; we had many wounded. But my Arab physicians managed well enough." He made a gesture with his horse-hair fly-whisk. "You have done well to bring her to me, Delhi spy. I will reward you later. Tell me what happened, hairy woman."
Djerat started to rise, only to be pulled down again by Josha Dar. "I cannot talk hunched over like a hunting mongoose."
"Then stay on your knees and tell me what transpired," said Timur-i.
Feeling both slighted and favored, Djerat did her best to order her thoughts. "It was a terrible thing, to be tossed into the river as we were." She went on to repeat what she had told Keiglu, emphasizing her determination to rejoin the army, and her distrust of all Sanat Ji Mani had done. "So I left them at the cattle-ford village, his imprecations still in my ears, and I came along the old road to Kabul, in the wake of your great army, Exalted Lord."
"At the cost of another of your mules," said Timur-i.
"Yes. My animals are tired and hungry, and so am I," said Djerat, thinking of the food she had been promised but had not yet received.
"Those following armies must expect hardships." Timur-i directed his attention to Josha Dar. "Well, spy? What do you think? Has she reported truly?"
"Perhaps she has, as she sees it," said Josha Dar. "But I suspect her jealousy has colored her account."
"Jealousy?" Djerat repeated incredulously, not allowing Timur-i to speak first. "What makes you say I am jealous?"
"You speak enviously, and you describe a man I have observed in terms intended to add to your consequence at his cost." Josha Dar lifted his head enough to be able to look up at Timur-i. "I do not like Sanat Ji Mani; he is a foreigner and therefore suspect. But I know his qualities, and I will not listen to him being maligned and not speak against such misrepresentations." He pointed to Djerat. "You have tried to make him seem untrustworthy-"
"He is untrustworthy!" Djerat shouted. "He is a seducer! He has set the heart of Tulsi Kil against me! He disdains the rule of Timur-i!"
Timur-i gestured her to silence; he sat staring off between his horse's ears, tapping his fly-whisk against his shoulder. The only sound was the jingle of tack and the slapping of banners on the wind. "I will make a decision before nightfall. Feed her and bring her to my tent when the sun is its own width above the mountains." He gestured dismissal, tapped the Red Company leader on his head with his fly-whisk and prepared to move on to the next company drawn up for inspection.
"You cannot listen to him!" Djerat called out, pointing her accusing finger at Josha Dar. "He is serving his own ends!"
"Be silent, hairy woman," Josha Dar ordered her. "He will kill you if you speak again."
Djerat realized this was not an empty threat; she swung around and faced Josha Dar. "You are trying to disgrace me. Why are you doing this, when I have done nothing to deserve it?"
"It is not my decision. You spoke against a man I defended." He rushed on, "If I did not refute what you said, I would be answerable to Timur-i, and I do not wish to be executed over this, so I have done as I must, and challenged your report before him and I have done all that I can to ensure he will not order me killed for telling him untruths, but will decide how your account is to be received in balance against mine." He stopped, and then continued more calmly, "You may not like my doubting you, but you must understand my purpose: you and I cannot both be right, and it is Timur-i who will judge which of us he believes and the one he finds lacking truth will pay the price of falsehood." Josha Dar shuddered and turned away from the front of the ranked soldiers; the aroma of cooking lamb mixed with the odor of horses' sweat and leather. "Go back to your wagon. Have your meal. I will come to fetch you when it is time to go to Timur-i's tent."
"Keiglu may not allow me to go," said Djerat, holding her head up.
Josha Dar laughed. "If you think the Master of Jugglers is going to defy Timur-i, you have been in the sun too long."
"I have told the truth," Djerat insisted.
"And so have I. So one of us must be mistaken in our truth," said Josha Dar.
Djerat rounded on him. "You defend a scoundrel."
"I would defend Shaitan himself, or Yama, if it would save my skin," said Josha Dar. "I do not like Sanat Ji Mani-I have said so. But I have not seen any of the reprehensible things you describe in all the time I have watched him, and if I do not vindicate my report, I am useless to Timur-i, which means also that I am dead." He laughed. "You have value to him as an oddity. Even if he does not believe you, he may spare you for that."
"You ... you turd! You offal! You are worse than the excrement of pigs and turtles!" She lurched away from him, almost physically ill from his presence.
Josha Dar did not approach her. "Have your meal. Take care of your mules and your wagon. I will come for you later in the day." He offered her an ironic salaam.
She wanted to rail at him, accuse him of every loathsome thing she could think of, but suddenly she was afraid, and for the first time since she had left Sanat Ji Mani and Tulsi Kil in the village at the cattle-ford, she wondered if she had made the right decision to return to Timur-i's army.
Text of a list of decisions given by Timur-i Lenkh at Kabul.
Be it known that I, Timur-i Lenkh, Exalted Lord of Samarkand and Ruler of the Middle of the World, favored of Allah and victorious in battle, do give out these decisions before the city of Kabul near the beginning of the 63rd year of my age:
For the crime of horse theft, the archer Sibbu Ali is to be tied between two trees and shot to death with arrows by the archers of his Company, the Azure Company; his own horses will be given to Eshmut Tusi, from whom Sibbu Ali stole. His body is to be left to rot as a warning to others.
For valor on the field, the soldiers of the Green Company are to be given each two pieces of gold and be excused from taxes for a full year, and for the next year, required to pay only half the amount usually required.
For the crime of adultery, the woman of Huf Fasal is to be opened at the belly and her womb removed so that she can never again disgrace what was made sacred by marriage; this to be done in the public eye of all the camp, so that no woman will think her crimes are safe. She is to be given no succor during her death-throes and any attempting to end her suffering shall share her fate. As to her lover, he is to be made a eunuch and sent to the slave-market in Mecca, where he will wear a placard telling how he came to lose his male parts. The monies paid for him are to be donated to the pilgrims at Mecca to ensure their safe return to their families.
For rescuing the armorers stranded on the road, Abaq Rukh shall be given a pearl the size of a pigeon's egg to be set in the hilt of his shimtare as a sign of his service to the armorers and to my cause against the Faithless Ones. His sons may call themselves Abaq's Pearls in commemoration of this laudable act, and to encourage others to be equally scrupulous in their duties.
For the crime of counterfeiting coins, the metal-smith Ankra of Tabriz is to have his hands lopped off, the which he will wear around his neck until they rot away, to show that no one may coat base metal with gold or silver and profit from such deception. His eldest son is to be castrated and sold into slavery, the money from which sale shall go to remunerate those Ankra cheated. His daughters are to be given to my soldiers to be used for their pleasure.
For providing shelter for 20 head of pregnant mares during the severe windstorm of four nights ago, Zhalil Karli shall receive three emeralds from my treasury and his pick of the foals of these mares, limited to one filly and one colt, when the mares shall deliver their young.
For the crime of subversion, the cook Wan Shao-Hsia will be boiled in his own cooking pot; those who have followed his seditious teaching will eat the stew his flesh makes and they will pay two strings of copper cash to my treasury for their lapse. These followers are to witness Wan's execution so that they will not be able to deceive themselves concerning their meal. Should any of them attempt to refuse this punishment, their eyelids shall be cut away and they will be left by the trail to live or die as Allah wills.
For hunting game and providing 33 wild sheep for the army to feast upon, the men of Bronze Company are to share my table tonight, and are to be given each one silver coin from my treasury, in appreciation of their perseverance and purpose. Each man is to receive an extra measure of grain for his horses, and the Bronze Company shall march immediately behind me when the army sets out again in two days.
For the crime of cowardice in battle, Mangu Miran shall be given to the captured women of our jagatai foes who have brought so much pleasure to my men. These women shall be provided small knives to use in punishing Mangu Miran, which knives are to be confiscated and accounted for when they have done with disposing of this unworthy soldier.
For tending the delivery of 20 foals without the loss of a single animal, Ayjal the farrier is to be given his choice of the foals and the reward of one piece of gold for every foal, that is, 20 pieces of gold from my own treasury. In addition, he is to be allowed to attend the mares of my herd, to supervise their foaling and to tend the dams and foals through the weaning; in recognition of his abilities he may call himself Timur-i's Foaler.
For the crime of lying, the hairy woman, Djerat, is to be flayed and her skin preserved with its hair as a reminder to all, and to entertain the curious.
For the service of leading the Yellow Company away from an ambush, Latif Umar is to be given an emerald from my treasury and two horses from my herd, along with a permanent exemption from all taxation for as long as he shall live.
For the crime of stealing, Ghotar Illish is to have his right hand struck off and his right eye plucked out, so that he will no longer be able to steal, nor will he be tempted by what he sees.
For the service of exposing falsehood, the Delhi spy, Josha Dar, is to receive five gold pieces from my treasury and be allowed to ride in the wagons accompanying my own wagon.
For the crime of selling spoiled grain, the Kabuli merchant Yusef is to be prepared a double portion of gruel made from the grain, which he shall then eat in total, or be beheaded on the spot.
For providing the horses of Black Company with new saddle-pads, Tuma the saddler is to receive 4 silver pieces from my treasury and the skins of all the sheep killed by Bronze Company.
For winning at chess against me, the foreigner of the Land of Snows, Rje Chilonhgpa, shall be hacked to pieces and his bones made into chessmen for my board.
For bringing me nine bales of fine silk from China, the merchant Sing Tso-Mao, is to be given three asses and a camel to aid him in his travels and to promote his business; also he is to be accorded safe passage to Trebizond so that he might continue his endeavors on my behalf.
This is my judgment. It is balanced, just, in accord with our traditions and our holy religion. I am even-handed in meting out rewards and punishment, as our Qran teaches. Let no man question what has been decided. Let all be carried out at once.
Timur-i Lenkh
at Kabul
by the hand of the scribe Yesun Toq