NOVEL~*Hiding behind a Stranger*~Thread 10 - Chapter 15 - UPD 11th SEP

Prologue

Three Great Emperors had toiled hard to build the vast and flourishing legacy of the 'Mughal Empire', keeping relative peace by unifying its Mughals and Hindus. However; by mid 1600s, cracks began to appear in its solid foundations. Insecurities crept in through the gaps, widening the gulfs between the two religions once again.

With the old Emperor becoming too feeble to take charge and his jealous successors remaining preoccupied with expansion and power, the damage was never repaired. Not surprising then that new rebellions arose every day. Violence escalated, claiming many innocent lives.

Yet; in the midst of such turmoil and peril, there bloomed a beautiful story - much like a lone flower blossoming upon the steepest edges of a cliff - a story of love, of sacrifice and honour!

Forced to flee from her motherland, the one home she knew... forced to leave behind her people, for whom, she was their only hope...forced to grievously abandon the last rites of her loved one while the flames on the pyre were still ablaze...the orphaned heiress of 16 overcame grief and many shortcomings, as she embarked on a long dangerous path... setting out to seek help and support, for her people and her lands...

Till a chance stay with a complete stranger would change the course of those very plans forever!

Being the most shrewd, determined and unforgiving of the lot meant he was formidable... a force to be reckoned with... it also meant he could have owned it all - riches, power, women and fame... but, he fancied none of it...

As a recluse with simple tastes, the rich life held no real appeal... power didn't tempt him... women didn't interest him... his passion was work and his only family were a few loyal friends... he had decided that he wanted little else in life...

Till a chance visit from a complete stranger would change that decision forever!

Note to readers - Please don't read the comments before you read this one!

Thoroughly amused by the animal's stubbornness, the maids had to bite down upon their lips to keep their laughter in check, since they'd been strictly instructed not to giggle or gossip in public.

Heera, on the other hand, was not going to be as coy today. After all, she'd won fair and square in this unwritten match - a fact that even Akbar eventually had to admit to. And it couldn't be often that one got to win against the Khan Sahib. So, she let slip a soft giggle as a mark of her victory - a victory-giggle that he knew she'd earned.

Nevertheless, once she was done with the silent celebrations, Heera decided to set matters straight when the mood was still light-hearted 'Bahadur... the fun and frolic was tempting, but you must go now...' she muttered into the horse's ears, while holding out one last round of treats for it. But it didn't seem to want the peanuts anymore, and coddled its head within her palms instead 'Oh... so you're angry with your Sahib, for having left you behind... for having disappeared for the past 3 days?' she whispered teasingly 'Don't worry, I understand...

Chapter 15 below...

Battle camp...

One large camp.

A group of 40 boisterous men.

A seemingly long half-an-hour had passed.

And yet, there was absolute stillness. No movement anywhere.

Except, of course, for the men at the centre - two of them to be precise.

Because the soldiers knew -

That their Huzoor, the Shehzaade, preferred it quiet when he was engaged in a game of cards.

Especially, when the card game being played was Ganjifa.

And all the more so, when one of his favourite opponents was part of the competition!

'Ustaad...' Shehzaade mulled under his breath, looking at the Wazir card sitting beside the Safed-shah card in his hand 'how do I win this round against you?' He had a strong set. If he won this round, he'd win the game. However, in order to win the round, he had to figure out his opponent's winning cards and moves. So, he subtly glanced up - to see if he could guess from his competitor's expressions, what sort of a set he was holding.

Alas! As the prince had already anticipated, he'd have no luck. For, the man's dynamic eyes that could silently-command over entire regiments of trainees on any given day - gave away nothing now.

Testing his luck further, Shehzaade tried taking a peek at his opponent's hand. As expected, another futile pursuit. The clever manner in which the deck of cards had been tucked between the fingers meant no one would be able to steal a glimpse, any which way. How ironic that a pair of strong hands that were capable of crushing enemy skulls with brute force - were just as capable at handling a deck of precious Ganjifa cards with splendid tact.

Well, the man wasn't called an Ustaad, a 'Master', for no reason.

Make no mistake, the Shehzade was a specialist at this game of cards too. A staunch follower of Islam, he did not permit his men to indulge in it as a means to gamble money - but, he did encourage the sport as an excellent tool to help sharpen one's intellect. So, he loved pitting himself against anyone and everyone who offered his own genius mind a challenge. But he'd hardly found any worthy contesters apart from a select few - and the respected man sitting opposite, was one of them!

'I'll win this round...' the prince vowed. But since he'd exhausted other venues, he had to use the last trick he knew - a few clever mental calculations to figure out his odds at winning the game. So, while his mind started doing the maths, the sly man decided to buy some time by delving into idle chatter

'Ustaad...' he spoke up, his authoritative tone dispelling the still air 'What is your opinion on the tribes up North? That war shows no sign of ending... and I'm running out of resources and ideas.'

'My opinion? Pardon my insolence, Huzoor...' he mused 'but isn't it true you want my opinion now, only so you can divert my concentration from the game!' The remark was polite, but the tone had an unmissable blunt edge to it.

'Ya Allah!' the prince laughed off the shrewd guesswork 'You KNOW I always value your opinions, don't you?'

Ustaad said nothing in reply for a moment.

And that telling moment was enough for the prince to sense that the man's earlier remark hadn't been made in jest.

Surprised by the scepticism, Shehzade put down his cards and slowly arched forward from the backrest - thus dragging down the light-hearted ambience in that camp to a sure death 'Value your opinions? Then, WHY do you think I've been calling you by your title 'Ustaad'?' he queried, returning the man's steady glances with firm glares 'Because, if the 'heir to the Mughal Empire', calls you by that title... everyone else... younger OR older to you... HAS to call you by that title too! Now that is the kind of regard I've showed, over the years... so do not repeat the mistake of bringing up this subject... next instance, I might not answer so patiently...'

'And I've always appreciated your gestures...'

'Then speak up... what's on your mind...'

'If you value my opinions so highly, why is Khalil still a free man?' Ustaad asked, without so much as batting an eyelid - something very few would've dared to do so, since this particular Shehzaade was notorious for being more ill-tempered and impulsive than anyone else in his family. Then again, unlike the others, Ustaad was never fearful of saying or doing what he believed in 'Khalil and his soldiers are turning into something we'd never stand for... something Islam never stands for!'

Shehzaade immediately raised a stern palm in response. And the rest of the members took the hint - that they must leave.

Thereafter, the remaining players at the table surrendered their cards and exited the tent, one by one.

Then, the soldiers followed suit.

Once they'd been left alone, the prince did something he generally never had the patience to do - decided to clarify his stance to the man, just this once 'I despise what Khalil's done... which is why, I punished him by removing him from this assignment... I banished him to Kabul, while I hid the fact that I'd already handed over the Parnagarh assignment... all this, despite the fact that he could've been winning wars for me here...' a sarcastic huff escaped his mouth 'whatever his flaws, Khalil still remains my most powerful general... take pride in what you've created, Ustaad... besides, most of your recruits have turned out to be fine soldiers, otherwise!'

'Pardon me Huzoor... but as a soldier of Islam, I cannot take pride in the fact that I mentored Khalil into something so powerful... the man's literally unstoppable now!'

'What more must I do? Have him imprisoned? Killed?' Shehzaade scoffed 'When I come to power, I will make laws... and punish all those who defy Islam... but at THIS point, I am in need of supporters... if I start punishing soldiers who've committed crimes, I'll be left with no men!' By the end of that declaration, he was nearly yelling. Swiftly realising that the subject was taking an unpleasant turn, he decided to shift the discussion in another direction - at least for a while 'Forget about all this for now... tell me, my dear friend... any news of the Farmaan yet?'

Following a tense pause, Ustaad placed his cards, facing down, on the table 'Not yet, Huzoor!'

'That darned Farmaan! Have the cursed fires of Hell swallowed it?' the prince grit down on his teeth, whelmed by a quiet surge of frustration 'Such a simple task... and yet, it's been eluding my best men...' it took him a few deep breaths and a few verses from the Quran, before he could return to his cold-composed self 'nevertheless... any news about the Sahiba?'

Ustaad's glances grew guarded.

'I mean... any news about the younger heiress, Harka Sahiba? Any updates... or thoughts on her?'

'Nothing much' he frowned, as his attention veered away from his Master's glares for the first time, and towards the tent flaps in the backdrop, to observe Mother Nature's own painting of a sunset oblivion beyond it.

ANY thoughts on her? Well, he had plenty. Plenty of news and updates too that he could convey if he wanted to, as part of idle talk. After all, he'd stumbled across quite a few small facts about her over the past two weeks, which they hadn't known about at the start...

'I am blind... actually, partially blind!'

Manswar

Flappp

The scroll went flying all the way from chaise lounge to the table at the opposite end, knocking down a vase with all of its blooms and organic water over the floor.

'Hukum?'

Mahendar grabbed a goblet of liquor from a dresser nearby 'That worthless degenerate has called off the deal...' he downed its contents in one go, letting the bitterness burn his throat 'He blames me for it... blames ME... can you imagine? I'd given him all the details of the haveli... explained everything... but that pervert messed it up... and now blames ME for misleading him! And this Ustaad... WHY the hell is he involved in the Parnagarh mess now?'

Watching the outburst from a distance, Tej Raj couldn't help but smirk scornfully at the idiocy of it all 'That is what happens when you team up with brutes like Khalil...'

'Tej Raj!' Slamming his chalice on the dresser all of a sudden, Mahendar thundered up to his opposer 'I've told you a million times... our Hindu kingdoms have sold themselves to the Mughals... our Rajputana is going to ruins... If we don't act soon, this Shehzaade will ensure there are no Hindus left in all of the Empire!' He moved closer, slamming his furious features right into his cousin's meeker face 'Which is why we need Parnagarh... it'll give us a stronger voice... make us more favourable in court... so as I act a true Rajput, doing all I can to safeguard Hindu future, you stand in a corner and smirk away to glory... if you have something sensible to say, spit it out... or shut up!'

Tej Raj took a step back 'True Rajput? Durga Bai is the true Rajput... she died a noble death for the sake of her lands...'

'Oh really? Your very noble Durga Bai was supposed to be in love with me... but she didn't even bother mentioning the 'Farmaan' to me... didn't even trust me with the document, when I'd asked... had she handed it over then, she would still be alive today...'

'We can't blame her for not trusting you now, can we? Your principles may be good, Mahendar... but, your methods are horrible...'

'What was I supposed to do?' the Kunwar broke out into a series of cackles 'Months... it took me months... MONTHS of planning to get Parnagarh... and just as I was about to wed Durga Bai and get control of the place... the issue of this Farmaan springs up from nowhere... then, Khalil is made in charge... if I didn't strike this deal, I would've lost everything...'

'And you presume Khalil would've kept up his end of the deal if he'd got the Farmaan? You really think they would've shared their profits from the mines with you? Helped you, a Hindu, gain power in court? If so, you're a fool!'

Infuriated, Mahendar lurched forth and grabbed the man by his collar, snapping in two a string of pearls as he did so 'Do you think I took pleasure in selling out my betrothed to the enemy?' he grit his teeth 'Khalil was so determined to get his hands on the Farmaan... at least by being a part of this plan, I thought I would gain something out of it...'

Slowly letting go of his victim's tunic, the Kunwar straightened out the parts that'd been crumpled within his grip. A hint of deviousness soon flashed through his eyes 'Anyway, all is not yet lost... the Farmaan must be with Harka Bai... all I have to do is find her, before the Shehzaade does!'

Battle camp...

'Most days, are good... and I can use my sight to get by... on those days that are bad, I use my senses to get by...'

Stumbling-across-unknown-facts was rarely ever the case for this Ustaad though. Because, being the thorough professional that he was, he always made it a point to learn every single detail about his assignments, before he took them on - except on this assignment, unfortunately!

After having dealt with several complicated enemy-groups of the Shehzaade in his job as an Intelligence Officer - he hadn't really thought much of this paltry Parnagarh issue when it'd been given to him. At least, not until he'd truly confronted the 'assignment' - aka Harka Sahiba - whom he was meant to keep under surveillance.

So yes, the young man had to admit - for the first time in his life, a particular case had caught him off-guard.

Nevertheless, he would have to make up for the lapses - before the entire tangled web spiralled into something disastrous.

'Ustaad Akbar Mahmoud Khan!'

Shehzade snapped his fingers, to grab the man's attention 'I asked, if you'd had a chance to meet the Sahiba... but you seem lost in thought...' a hint of aristocratic arrogance seeped into his tone 'what happened? Is she really as beautiful as people say, she is?'

'Probably' Akbar said, deflecting any further chatter on the subject with a mild shrug. He couldn't really say the truth now, could he? That all those eloquent words 'people' generally used to describe the Parnagarh heiress, were insufficient for the unparalleled beauty that she was in reality. That even the finest court poets and royal painters hadn't been able to justify the true virtue of her looks in their art.

So, he said nothing.

'Probably? Is that all you could come up with?' a curt chuckle from the Shehzaade, tore through the ongoing bout of silence 'Any other man would've used this opportunity to gossip about her... But YOU, my friend, are much too dignified for that!' and the very next instant, his expressions morphed from 'lively' to 'serious' with remarkable ease 'The Farmaan, Ustaad... you're positive it's not with the Parnagarh group?'

'Yes, Huzoor...'

'How? Did you manage to have their belongings searched?'

'All of them, including the Sahiba... genuinely believe that they've lost the Farmaan... Chacha jaan has become quite friendly with a few men in their troupe... and a couple of them blurted out this information to him yesterday...' his brows knitted into a contemplative frown 'my guess is that Durga Sahiba has hid it someplace, that no one knows about...'

'But, why wouldn't Durga Sahiba mention it to her own sister then?' Shehzaade scratched his temple in vexation 'At least we're now certain that they don't have the Farmaan with them... anyway, how extremely fortunate for you that they were attacked by the tribes at that point... made it much easier for you to guide the Parnagarh group into Aidabad... had they reached the Kingdom of Bansi, we'd still be assuming they have the Farmaan with them! So, good work there...' he paused, deep in thought 'Alright, my man... I'd given you two instructions at the start... one, to keep her safe, for the time-being... and two, to keep an eye on her ... of the two, I can clearly see you've followed the first one...' his comments were laced with obvious tinges of dark humour 'So, what about the second instruction... is there anything else I must know? How has the Sahiba reacted to the death of her sister? She must be planning something!'

Aha! Now there was the momentous enquiry - a question that Akbar had expected all along. Yet when it arrived, he found it tough to formulate an apt answer.

How did she react to the death of her sister?

Well, she'd reacted like a true noblewoman - with dignity and determination. 'M... my sister's life was brutally taken away... barely 10 days back...' She was fighting back like the leader of a clan would, seeking justice by sending out persuasive letters to all kingdoms of Rajputana.

Anyhow; as an intelligence officer, it was his responsibility to confiscate those letters. So, his spies had secretly intercepted all the scrolls before they could reach any of the Rajput kingdoms. As an intelligence officer, he was also obliged to notify the prince of any such developments. Which is why he'd come, mentally prepared to report it.

However, just as Akbar was about to broach the topic, his words suddenly froze. He was left confronting an unfamiliar 'barrier' - a barrier that wouldn't let this committed officer fulfil his duty. A barrier that didn't allow him to betray this particular information about the Sahiba. A hurdle that he couldn't seem to overcome. Was it a voice in his head? A tug in his chest? He couldn't decide. But whatever it was, it'd stemmed from the conscience in his soul.

With his thoughts now moving in a hundred different directions, the man needed time to process what was happening. So, he decided to reveal the matter about the scrolls only AFTER he'd had a chance to clear his head. Till then, he would have to bury the dilemmas, and temporarily gloss over the issue. 'Her plans?' his sharp-witted mind scurried through all options, coming up with a convincing reply before long 'She's been sharing her grief with a few of her people from neighbouring Rajput Kingdoms... but, nothing alarming as of now...'

'I see... so you'll tell me if and when something comes up?'

Akbar's glances reverted towards the prince 'Undoubtedly, Huzoor'

The Shehzaade studied his officer's face closely. There was something different about the Ustaad's behaviour today. He was sure of it now. Of course, he wasn't aware of what it was that was playing on the man's psyche - but, he had his own ways to find out.

'Ustaad...' he hummed 'you seem quite distracted this evening... possibly because of this new assignment...'

Akbar stared on, trying not to appear too sceptical while he waited to see what the prince was going to come up with.

'My advisors were right... the Parnagarh assignment must be quite an inconvenience... especially when you already have so many other matters to attend to...' his crafty glares drifted towards his own fingernails, tinkering with their well-kempt edges as he continued 'Since I don't want to overburden you at this point, I can transfer the assignment... a few men from Khalil's army, have been idling around lately...'

'No Huzoor...' Akbar interrupted, his jowl beginning to tighten into steel, the veins on their sides pulsing with the added stress. But a split moment later, he wrestled with those impulses to get a grip on himself.

He would never disrespect his Master by losing self-control in his presence. Moreover, Akbar could sense that the prince was putting him on the spot - to observe his reactions. So, the logical part of him had prompted him to act with restraint - a part of him that'd been hardened with years of training, thus helping him guise his emotions well.

But despite all that training, staying poised had been no easy feat - and what'd shown up on his features, was a small fraction of the turbulence that was tearing him from within. There was another part of him that was raring to rip through his layers of restraint. To erupt into a kind of rage, he'd never experienced before. Two weeks ago he wouldn't have thought it possible, but somehow he'd become so instinctively protective of this assignment that his ego wouldn't let him detach himself from it, even mentally. And to such an extent that the mere mention of the name 'Khalil' in the same sentence as 'Harka Sahiba' had riled him up.

Fortunately, at the end, 'logic' had won its way, allowing him to mask the sinister undertones with a calmer explanation 'when I take up something I like to see it finished, Huzoor!'

'Ustaad...' The prince crossed his palms 'don't tell me that you don't trust ANY of the soldiers working under Khalil...'

'Huzoor... Khalil's men are not trustworthy either... he might be banished away in Kabul, but his men still work for him... in fact...' he blew a long hard breath 'I believe they're responsible for killing one of my informers...'

'What!' the prince was genuinely taken aback 'Who?'

'Chota Faizan...' Akbar scowled

'Ya Allah... may his soul rest in peace...' Shehzaade glimpsed at the Heavens for a moment, to pay his respects 'a promising young man he was... how have Ibrahim, Sayyid and Azeez taken it?'

'Azeez was devastated when I informed him... after all, they were close friends... grew up together...'

'But, what happened? Why was Faizan killed?'

'He was bringing me information, Huzoor... Khalil had allied with someone before storming into Parnagarh, to help him get the Farmaan... Chota Faizan had found out the name of this person... but... he was murdered before he could get the information to me.'

Shehzade moved forward to probe into the eyes of this man. Much as the growing hostility between his two favourite soldiers was dangerous, it was somehow amusing too. For, what could be a greater boost to his own ego than having two formidable generals spying upon one another, battling each other, to gain his approval?

Nevertheless, amusing or not, he couldn't let this grow - or it'd spell trouble for his future campaigns. So he decided to diffuse the enmity as best as he could 'Ustaad...' he spoke up 'I advise you like an older brother... the real reason why Faizan was killed was because of jealousy... and fear... because Khalil and his soldiers know that even if they want to, they can neither fight, nor live like you... I've always advised my men to be pious... to stay away from women, alcohol and Hukkah... but as soon as I turn my back, they're lying in some brothel, smoking and drinking... they have everything' he threw his hands in the air, in frustration 'but they still want more. You, on the contrary, came with nothing and are yet a content... disciplined man... happy to devote your entire life to my mission... how else could one train to become a specialist Ahadi, a supreme warrior, in just 3 years... how else could one have risen the ranks and earned titles so quickly?' his fingers clicked in appreciation 'Ustaad, your ideas have restructured my entire intelligence network... you pick boys off the streets, employ them, observe them when they work for you, and choose perfect recruits from there... if that is not genius, what is?' he guffawed 'Your men have stopped so many attempts on my life... that my enemies have now placed a bigger price on your head than they have on mine...'

'Thank you Huzoor...'

'Of course, I try and show my gratitude by regularly showering you with offers of lands... money... position... gifts... boons... but you've turned it all down to live the life of a recluse in some obsolete town...' he shrugged 'Yes... you have your own reasons to hate life in the capital... but even at Aidabad, you live by the same principles... haven't taken a wife, or fathered a child... haven't accumulated wealth or family... you have no weaknesses... never terrified of death! Now do you still blame Khalil and his men for fearing the invincible warrior that you are?' he deliberately muffled his pitch to a murmur 'I'll tell you a secret... occasionally, even this Shehzaade fears you, Ustaad Akbar Mahmoud Khan!'

That was quite some sermon, thought Akbar, and very cleverly played too - the Shehzaade had taken the focus off one soldier's mistakes, by glorifying the other soldier instead. Nevertheless, it was gracious of the prince to take the effort. So he decided to let go of the 'Khalil' matter for now.

'You're very kind...' he bowed with a humble nod 'But, remember one thing, Huzoor... you NEVER have to fear me... ever... I'll lay my life for you, any moment you ask!'

'You will, my man...' Shehzaade nodded 'because you're not a destroyer... you're a protector... and more importantly, because you value gratitude... I'm sure you remember your condition, when your Chacha jaan had brought you to the soldiers' camp' he said with a calculated smile - if he'd spent effort putting his officer on a pedestal, he would also remember to remind him, who put him up there 'It was I, who spotted your talents... I recognised your intelligence... mentored you... had you promoted... had you trained by the choicest experts... and when you needed a cover for your job, helped set up your favourite racing horse business for you... basically, I gave you a purpose in life, when you had none! If not, who knows what would've happened to that sick, beaten, tortured, weak, abused 13 year old boy?'

A long unsettling spell ensued - the prince could definitely slide-in the blade where it hurt most, couldn't he?

'Anyway... let's get back to the game!' Shehzaade abruptly declared, picking up his cards and fanning them out between his fingers. He was quietly confident of a victory now. Thanks to those lengthy conversations, he'd had enough time to make a rough calculation of the odds of his victory! 'The winner has to be one of us, since everyone else has left... let's find out who it is!'

'As you say, Huzoor!'

The prince glared up, wary of the nonchalance in that reply.

A moment later, he let slip an exasperated scoff 'Ugh! What's the point... you've guessed my cards... you know the winner, don't you?'

'Yes...' Akbar admitted straight-faced, before proceeding to display the cards he'd been holding 'I'll win this round, if we finish Huzoor!'

While the prince had been busy diverting his opponent's mind to calculate cards, the young man had managed to slyly beat him at his own game, in his own way.

'Alright!' the flustered royal laid down his cards, face-up - a gesture that he had given up 'How did you do it? With 4 players?'

'Not calculations... I observed the patterns on the back of the card, before we started the game...'

Shehzaade brusquely picked his set up and flipped it around 'Explain yourself' he demanded, unable to conceal his annoyance 'The patterns are all the same!'

'They appear to be the same...' placing two cards backwards, he pointed to their patterns for comparison 'but there are mild differences in the designs... I try and remember these small variations for the important cards!' With the distractions and thoughts simmered down, Akbar now sounded much like the Ustaad everyone around here described him as - a smart composed young man. 'Huzoor, I apologize if I spoilt your game for you...' he wisely concluded, aware of the displeasure behind his Master's frowns.

'No... no...' the aristocrat swiftly shook his head 'As always, I'm impressed with your keen observation... you did what you had to, to win! If I'm not pleased with someone, it's the man who made these cards!'

He snapped his fingers in a hurry.

A guard stationed just outside the tent, instantly stepped in, ready for the orders that awaited him.

'Find out who painted these cards... and ensure he never gets to work as a painter again! Then, hire a new painter who can make Ganjifa cards ABSOLUTELY identical to one another...' the guard was about to withdraw, when he realized the Shehzaade hadn't finished speaking 'And if you fail to do as told, young soldier... be assured that I will have four of your fingers chopped... But I'll spare your thumb, as an eternal memoir of how incompetent you were!'

Once done giving orders, the prince reverted to his favourite officer with an artfully intimidating glare, as though to show the young Ustaad that he was still the only man-in-command 'Safe journey back home, Ustaad... Khuda Hafiz!'

Aidabad

No sooner than he'd jumped off his horse, Akbar exercised his stiff shoulders and then looked up to the Heavens. Breathing in a lung full of Aidabad air, he muttered a silent prayer. It was a ritual he followed without fail. Whenever the young man stepped foot out of his city, he never knew if he'd come back alive. So on his safe return, he made sure to thank the Lord for it.

Once done with the prayers, he glimpsed around, to assess the familiar scenery - but his eyelids briefly refused to co-operate. Heavy from exhaustion, they blurred out, making it difficult to distinguish the lighter greens from the darker greens of the scenes around. It took a few forced blinks before he could see again. Not surprising though, since he'd rode relentlessly for the past three days to the capital and back, breaking only for a few short naps or a meal.

Yet, he couldn't afford the luxury of taking some rest now. The braying of horses and hollering of stable boys in the backdrop hinted at the numerous duties that beckoned him. Soon, the sun would start beating down upon them - and he had many chores to finish before work at the stable-yard would slow down.

So, he'd resort to the typical remedies to fight the fatigue - a cold wash for the eyes, a warm bath to loosen those stiff shoulders and noon prayers to pacify the jaded mind.

But just as he began making his way towards the haveli, he saw something in the distance, across the patches of greenery. Something he hadn't expected to come home to. An unusual spectacle.

Unusual, but appealing.

Akbar took a few strides closer, till he could get a better view.

His best buddy Bahadur looked well on the road to recovery, out and about on his feet, enjoying the fresh air - which was a comforting sight indeed. But what was unusual was that it was 'out and about' around the fences that encircled the gardens of the guest quarters - a spot that Bahadur never really visited before.

Then again, Akbar could guess why his pet had made himself so comfortable there - it was busy enjoying the benefits of the warm company of the Sahiba.

With its nose peeking over the railing and its head bent low, the horse playfully nudged her fingers, pestering the Lady for treats. In turn, the Sahiba petted its nose with a few soft strokes, testing its patience for a short while - before finally opening her palm to display a small treat. Of course, by then, Bahadur would be so eager to taste the treat, that it'd snap it up instantly, sometimes even nibbling at her fingers as he did so - compelling her tickled palm to recoil, and her amused features to erupt into a grin.

Thereafter, the cycle repeated, all over again.

'Bahadur's not the type to become snug with strangers... when did the two strike such a friendship?' he wondered, slowly sucked into a reverie.

However, like most other reveries, this one was short-lived too - Akbar had soon heard the familiar quickening of his mate's footsteps, from behind.

Straightening up his relaxed shoulders, he tied his hands behind his back and assumed a formal stance, before welcoming the man approaching him 'Salaam Ibrahim...'

'Salaam Akbar... welcome back...'

'I see Bahadur has grown very comfortable around them...' Akbar indicated towards the group 'but, why haven't they left yet?'

He thought he sounded impatient as he posed that question.

But Ibrahim had heard something else in his master's tone instead - as though there was a sense of 'relief' that they hadn't left yet.

'They managed to locate a surgeon finally, last night... he's agreed to operate tomorrow...' crossing his arms, Ibrahim hushed down his pitch 'so, what did Huzoor have to say?'

Akbar's answer was just as cautiously low 'Informed him about Chota Faizan... about Khalil's men... and also mentioned that we haven't found the Farmaan yet... by the way...' he raised a questioning brow 'have they sent out any further messages?'

'Yes... one scroll went out to the province of Balaur yesterday, but we've seized it. Anyway, how did Huzoor react... to the fact that she's been sending out these scrolls... and to the messages we've confiscated?'

'I'll inform him... the next time I ride to the capital...'

'Oh!' Ibrahim turned to his master with a confounded frown, not knowing what to make of the fact that he hadn't disclosed such a significant matter to the prince yet. But before he could question him any further, he was interrupted.

'We'll discuss it later' said Akbar, before whistling out a loud tune - a tune that Bahadur instantly recognised as its telltale call.

The elated pet peeped over its back to locate its Sahib standing in the fields, as did the rest of the retinue from the gardens.

And for whatever reason, when Heera spotted his silhouette, her first thoughts were 'Welcome back'. Understandably, she couldn't make out too much - apart from the fact that he was dressed in his riding gear, his face still partially covered by the scarf. But the very presence of him, posing handsomely tall with his hands behind his back in the midst of his lands, seemed to bring some 'life' to a place that'd felt quite forlorn the past 3 days. Maybe that's why there was a saying - however crowded, a house is empty without its master.

'How ironic' she thought the very next moment 'that someone so quiet and reserved could breathe 'life' into a place!'

But ironic or not, that was how it was!

Thereafter, without further delay, she greeted the 'Sahib' with a gentle salute - in keeping with their last meeting.

A salute that he could have ignored. A salute that he should have ignored - especially after the numerous wake-up calls he'd had in the recent past. But as was the case from the start, Akbar found it difficult to treat her that way. So he responded with a quick Adab, before whistling out to Bahadur again.

The horse instinctively began trotting towards its master. However, a few paces thereon, it did something it'd never done before. It stopped midway and turned around, to head back to the gardens, shocking everyone present - most of all, Akbar himself.

'Traitor...' Akbar clenched his teeth in mock anger, understanding precisely what was going on 'A few bags of peanuts... and 3 days later, you've forgotten a friend of 3 years?'

So, he escalated the measures, by calling out to his pet, loud and clear 'Bahadur... come on... come here...'

He repeated the command thrice. But it seemed Bahadur had no issues with disobeying his Sahib's orders this morning - and continued to stay adamantly by Heera's side.

Thoroughly amused by the animal's stubbornness, the maids had to bite down upon their lips to keep their laughter in check, since they'd been strictly instructed not to giggle or gossip in public.

Heera, on the other hand, was not going to be as coy today. After all, she'd won fair and square in this unwritten match - a fact that even Akbar eventually had to admit to. And it couldn't be often that one got to win against the Khan Sahib. So, she let slip a soft giggle as a mark of her victory - a victory-giggle that he knew she'd earned.

Nevertheless, once she was done with the silent celebrations, Heera decided to set matters straight when the mood was still light-hearted 'Bahadur... the fun and frolic was tempting, but you must go now...' she muttered into the horse's ears, while holding out one last round of treats for it. But it didn't seem to want the peanuts anymore, and coddled its head within her palms instead 'Oh... so you're angry with your Sahib, for having left you behind... for having disappeared for the past 3 days?' she whispered teasingly 'Don't worry, I understand... but you better get back to him now... or Khan Sahib will get annoyed with you... and with me too, for keeping you here...' patting the horse's head, as a sign of final goodbye, she turned to her maids 'Come on ladies... time to get back to work'

No, poor Bahadur hadn't understood a word of what she'd said, though it did love listening to the sweet rhythm of her words.

But what it DID hope was that the Lady would eventually understand its gesture-of-gratitude, when it'd stood beside her to coddle her palm 'Thank you kind lady... for the changes you've brought in my dear master's life... changes that I hear in the livelier tones of his voice, every passing day.'

If this made for a worthwhile read, please do leave me a comment/like when you can, as it really does helps the writer in me to keep going!