"Seven to go," said Petra.
"Was it hard?" asked Bean.
"I'm glad you weren't there," said Petra. "I'm not sure you would have been tough enough to go through with it."
14
VIRLOMI'S VISITORS
From: lmperialSelf%[email protected]
Re: We have found Paribatra
Suriyawong, I am relieved to tell you that Paribatra, the former prime minister of Thailand, has been located. His health is not good but with proper attention it is believed that he will recover as well as can be expected for a man his age.
The former government had nearly perfected the art of making people disappear without actually killing them, but we are still tracking down other Thai exiles. I have great hopes of finding and releasing your family members.
You know that I opposed all these illegal actions against Thailand, its citizens, and its government. I have now moved at the first opportunity to undo as much of the damage as I can.
For internal political reasons I cannot release Paribatra directly to Ambul's Free Thai organization at this time, even though I fully expect that his group will be the core of the new government of Thailand and look forward to an early reconciliation.
As we free Paribatra into the care of the Hegemon, it seems appropriate that you who tried so hard to save Thailand should be the one to receive him.
Virlomi came to Hyderabad, and in front of the gate of the military complex where she once worked in virtual captivity, drawing up plans for wars and invasions she did not believe in, she now built a hut with her own hands.
Each day she went to a well and drew water, even though there were few villages in India that did not already have clean running water. Each dawn she buried her night soil even though most villages had working sewer systems.
Indians came to her by the hundreds, to ask her questions. When she was tired, she came out and wept for them and begged them to go home. They went, but the next morning others came.
No soldiers came near her, so there was no overt provocation to the Muslims inside the military compound. Of course, she was controlling the Indian military, which grew in strength every day, through her encrypted cellphones, which were swapped out daily for freshly charged ones by aides posing as ordinary supplicants.
Now and then someone from another land would come to see her. Her aides would whisper to them that she would not speak to anyone who was not barefoot, and if they wore western business suits she would offer them appropriate clothing, which they would not like, so it was better to be clad already in Indian clothing of their own choosing.
Three visitors came to her in one week of her vigil.
The first was Tikal Chapekar. Emperor Han had freed him, along with many other Indian captives. If he had expected some kind of ceremony when he returned to India, he was disappointed.
He assumed at first that the silence from the media was because the Muslim conquerors would not allow any mention of the return of the imprisoned Prime Minister to India.
So he went to Hyderabad to complain to the Caliph himself, who now ruled over his vast Muslim empire from within the walls of the military compound there. He was allowed to enter the compound, though while he waited in line at the checkpoint, he was curious about the hut a few dozen meters away, where a great many more Indians waited in line than waited to see the rulers of the nation.
"What is that hut?" he asked. "Do ordinary citizens have to go there first before coming to this gate?"
The gate guards laughed at his question. "You're an Indian, and you don't know that's where Virlomi lives?"
"Who is Virlomi?"
Now the guards grew suspicious. "No Hindu would say that. Who are you?"
He explained that he had been in captivity until just a few days ago, and was not aware of the news.
"News?" said one guard. "Virlomi isn't on the news. She makes her own news."
"Wish they'd just let us shoot her," muttered another.
"And then who would protect you as they tore us all limb from limb?" said another, quite cheerfully.
"So ... who is she?" asked Chapekar.
"The soul of India is a woman," said the one who had wanted to shoot her. He said "woman" with all the contempt he could put into a single word. Then he spat.
"What office does she hold?" asked Chapekar.
"Hindus don't hold offices anymore," said another guard. "Not even you, former Prime Minister."
Chapekar felt a wave of relief. Someone had recognized his name.
"Because you forbid the Indian people to elect their own government?"
"We allow it," said the guard. "The Caliph declared an election but nobody came."
"No one voted?"
"No one ran for office."
Chapekar laughed. "India has been a democracy for hundreds of years. People run for office. People vote."
"Not when Virlomi asks them not to serve in any office until the Muslim overlords leave India."
Now Chapekar understood everything. She was a charismatic, like Gandhi, centuries ago. Rather a sad one, since she was imitating a primitive Indian lifestyle that hadn't been the rule through most of India in many lifetimes. Still, there was magic in the old icons, and with so many disasters befalling India, the people would look for someone to capture their imagination.
Gandhi never became ruler of India, however. That job was for more practical people. If he could just get the word out that he was back. Surely the Caliph would want a legitimate Indian government restored to help keep order.
After a suitable wait, he was ushered into a building. After another wait, he was brought to the anteroom of the Caliph's office. And finally he was brought into the Presence.
Except that the person he met with was not the Caliph at all, but his old adversary, Ghaffar Wahabi, who had been prime minister of Pakistan.
"I thought to see the Caliph," said Chapekar, "but I'm glad to see you first, my old friend."
Wahabi smiled and nodded, but he did not rise and when Chapekar made as if to approach him, hands restrained him. Still, they did not stop him from sitting in an armless chair, which was good, because Chapekar tired easily these days.
"I am glad to sec that the Chinese have come to their senses and set their prisoners free. This new emperor they have is weak, a mere boy, but a weak China is better for all of us, don't you think?"
Chapekar shook his head. "The Chinese people love him."
"Islam has ground the face of China into the dust," said Wahabi.
"Has Islam ground the face of India into the dust as well?" asked Chapekar.
"There were excesses, under the previous military leadership. But Caliph Alai, may God preserve him, put a stop to that some time ago. Now the leader of the Indian rebels sits outside our gate, and we are untroubled, and she and her followers are unmolested."
"So now Muslim rule is benign," said Chapekar. "And yet when the Indian Prime Minister returns, there is not a word on television, not an interview. No car waiting for him. No office."
Wahabi shook his head. "My old friend," he said. "Don't you remember? As the Chinese surrounded and swallowed up your armies, as they swept across India, you made a great public pronouncement. You said, if I remember rightly, that there would be no government in exile. That the ruler of India from then on would be ... and I say this with all modesty ... me."