“What did the boy say?” says one of the natives.
“We have all heard his blasphemy,” says the leader of this pack. “Do not repeat it.”
“Go ask Jaruna,” I say.
“We shall not wake Lord Jaruna to bother him with your absurdity. You impersonate mujashatriya? Curse you! You have merely added weight of more sin onto your despicable corpse, Akkadian—”
“WHAT IS THIS!?”
It’s Kripa. He bursts through the crowd and three stone-hefting natives stumble facefirst into the sand.
Hatvan darts through Kripa’s wake, clutching his whiplike weapon with one hand.
“Kripa! Hatvan!” says the leader. “You have neglected your guard duties. Four and a half people will bear witness that these two have sinned in the sight of Asham. Do not prevent justice from being done—”
“Mosheh,” Hatvan says, “you did not think to check with the mujashatriya?”
“I am certain the young master would—”
“R’GAAAAH!” Kripa strides over and with one hand grabs Mosheh around his throat.
The short native goes from angry to enraged and beats at Kripa’s arm until Kripa raises his giant club with his other hand.
“You think we are FOOLS you SNAKE? You have been praying death for these two all week!”
“KRIPA!”
The crowd as one turns to the side and parts down the middle like a ribbon being cut. Jaruna emerges, flanked by his sister and Dronaja. The chief is the one who yelled out Kripa’s name and the warrior now turns to him and blithely releases Mosheh, who falls backward gasping and coughing.
“What is happening here?” says Dronaja. “Gil? Kiddu? Are you injured?”
“A stoning, Chief Dronaja.” Kripa says.
Jaruna looks beyond tired, barely awake. Without his turban his hair blows all over the place in the wind.
Ayan comes over and bends down next to me to look at Kiddu’s wounds. I see her eyes narrow to slits. She turns to the crowd.
“Is this how the Azkazraj Tribe treats its prisoners? Idiot shudra! You bring shame to your tribe!”
“Did I not say the prisoners were with me?” Jaruna says. “All of you have disobeyed me.”
Mosheh steps forward. He walks past Kripa with caution and bows deep on one knee before Jaruna.
“Young master Jaruna—I beg your forgiveness. I am responsible for this. Punish me as you will.”
“No more punishments today, please. We have a long way to march—”
“Mujashatriya, I think you should know,” Mosheh says, still bowing. “The boy, perhaps in an ill-conceived effort to evade punishment, claimed to be a prophet, of the mujashatriya.”
Jaruna looks at me, shocked into awakeness. It takes him a minute to compose himself.
“Is this true?”
“I can call witnesses.”
“No need. Gil is a guest in our lands. He is not subject to our Law.”
“A guest, lord? We—we had thought they were prisoners!”
Jaruna does not handle this professionally. He looks at Dronaja, speechless, helpless.
“Mosheh!” says Dronaja. “Do not dare contradict the mujashatriya!”
This harsh pronouncement does nothing to hush the angry murmurs of the crowd. In the aftermath the mystic’s aura of infallibility melt like ice.
“Who does this boy mujashatriya think he is! He told us they were prisoners last night!”
“Guests in our land? Death first!”
Jaruna stands speechless, nervous eyes darting from one angry face to the next. Finally Ayan steps forth.
“Be calm, please! It is true—the Akkadians are guests in our land. What is the problem here? Have you forgotten that Asham is a God of mercy as well as justice? They are children who lived under the Empire. Would you punish them for being born in darkness? Or would you help show them the light of the True Path? For I tell you, the True Path is not just for the mujashatriya and the desert tribes. It is for all the people of Quu!”
This silences most of the crowd. But a low hostile murmur remains.
Mosheh clears his throat. “Princess Ayan … Lord Jaruna … forgive me, but please, allow me to understand—just as the True Path lays open for all people, surely does the Law of Asham apply to all people as well, yes? For Asham punishes sin wherever he sees it. The Akkadians violated this Law with their disgusting behavior, and worse, this boy claims to be a prophet, in front of all these witnesses. Surely such blasphemy must be punished by swift death, lest it taints the lands—”
“That is enough, shudra!” Jaruna is no longer nervous. Now he’s furious. “Who are you to speak out of turn to my sister? You are lucky I do not shoot you where you stand! This is not a debate! Nobody will harm them! Is that understood? We have decided to bring them to Harrappa, and that is that!”