Victory City(12)
“What you mean to tell me,” she said, “is that your heart is spinning like a wheel on fire, and your love is like a rocket flying up to the gods.”
“Also, in the second place,” he said, perspiring more freely, “they learned in Cathay that this substance could be used in weapons. They stopped calling it by the devil’s name, and they invented new words for new things. They invented the word ‘bomb’ for a thing that could blow up a house, or knock down a fortress wall. They began to call the distillate ‘gunpowder.’ That was after they invented the word ‘gun.’?”
“What’s a gun?” Pampa Kampana asked.
“It’s a weapon that will change the world,” Domingo Nunes said. “And I can build it for you if you want.”
“They make love differently in Portugal,” said Pampa Kampana. “I see that now.”
That night, when the city was full of music and crowds, Pampa Kampana brought Hukka and Bukka to a small square in which Domingo Nunes was waiting for them, surrounded by a series of bottles with sticks protruding from their necks. Hukka was extremely annoyed by the sight of his Portuguese rival, and Bukka, who was next in line for the throne and, he believed, for Pampa Kampana’s hand, had his own irritations as well.
“Why have you brought us before this man?” Hukka demanded.
“Watch,” Pampa told him. “Watch and learn.”
Domingo Nunes sent his fireworks soaring into the sky. The Sangama brothers, open-mouthed, watched them fly, and understood that the future was being born, and that Domingo Nunes would be its midwife.
“Teach us,” said Hukka Raya I.
4
Hukka and Bukka’s three disreputable brothers had arrived some time earlier, riding into town together, side by side down the main street, bandits trying to look like aristocrats. With their thick, unkempt hair and their wild beards and handlebar mustachios they looked, and smelled, more like hoodlums than princes, however many airs they tried to put on, and people reacted to them with fear, not respect. They had cast-iron shields strapped to their backs. Pukka Sangama’s shield featured a portrait of a snarling tiger, Chukka Sangama’s shield was decorated with butterflies and moths, and Dev’s boasted a floral design. Swords and daggers hung from their waistbands and in dirty leather sheaths worn beneath the shields, the hilts of the swords protruding for easy access. In short, Pukka, Chukka, and Dev were as terrifying a sight as could be imagined as they rode up to the palace gates, and the citizenry scattered before them as they advanced.
The news of Hukka and Bukka establishing their rule over a miraculously newborn city had spread fast, along with rumors of a treasury overflowing with golden coins called pagodas, and also, people said, golden varahas of different weights. Pukka, Chukka, and Dev were determined not to be cut out of history if there was easy wealth to be had. At the palace gates they remained mounted and demanded admission.
“Where are those rascally brothers of ours?” bellowed Chukka Sangama. “Did they think they could keep all these riches to themselves?”
But he and his brothers were faced with a sight so unfamiliar in their experience that it punctured the balloon of their belligerence and made them scratch their heads. What stood before them was a phalanx of spear-carrying palace guards wearing golden breastplates, shin guards, and forearm cuffs, with swords in golden scabbards at their waists and long hair braided beautifully on top of their heads. They wore golden shields and grim expressions. And they were women. All of them. Tall, muscular women soldiers who meant business. Chukka, Pukka, and Dev had never seen such a thing.
“Is this what those fools are doing now?” Chukka demanded. “Sending ladies out to do unladylike business?”
“This is nothing new,” said the captain of the guard, a giant with a ferocious face and large, heavy-lidded eyes. Her name was Ulupi, and she was named after the daughter of the Serpent King. “In this city, women have guarded the Imperial Palace for generations.”
“That’s interesting,” said Pukka Sangama, “because I’m sure this city wasn’t here the last time we passed through the neighborhood.”
“You must be blind,” Captain Ulupi answered him. “For the power of the empire and the grandeur of its capital city have been known to all for longer than it is necessary to say.”
“And so Hukka and Bukka are in there, taking part in this phantom delirium?” Dev demanded. “Whatever this delusion is, they are happy to go along with it? And with you?”
“The king and the crown prince are fully supportive of the highly trained and fully professional officers of the palace guard,” said the captain. “And you’ll find, if you defy us, that we are not so ladylike at all.”
Now the truth was that the three younger Sangama brothers had been earning a dishonest living for some time as highway robbers and cattle thieves, and had recently added horse-thievery to their repertoire on account of the establishment of an international horse-trading enterprise at the port of Goa. Portuguese entrepreneurs had begun importing Arab stallions by sea to sell to several regional princes. Ambushing the horse convoys and reselling the beautiful animals on the black market was proving to be lucrative business, but it was also becoming dangerous, because the ruthless Tamil gangs of Maravar and Kallar thieves had moved into the area and brought along their murderous reputations, and the Sangama brothers, fearing for their lives, and being less than heroic, were looking for something less life-threatening to do. Their brothers’ new golden city glistened with exactly the kind of opportunities they sought.