Jadar paused dramatically. "Tonight we are many. Tomorrow we are one. We march at sunrise!"
The cheers began again, and immediately the pile of silver started to grow. Muslim nobles began bringing silver-trimmed saddles, plates, even jewelry. But the most silver came from the Hindu infantry, as their women were stripped of the silver bracelets and massive silver anklets that had been their dowries.
Jadar sat unmoving on his elephant as the men began to come forward with items of silver. Soon there was a line stretching into the dark of the tents. He watched the pile growing, and his calculations began.
Will it be enough? The weight must be enough or the Shahbandar, motherless thief that he is, will never agree. But I think we will have it.
He thought back over the plan. It had required almost the entire afternoon to refine. But when he had convinced himself that it would succeed, he had posted the pigeons to Surat.
Where, he had asked himself, can I find fifty lakhs of silver, five million rupees, within a month, and have them at Burhanpur when we arrive? I'll not squeeze a copper pice, penny, from Agra.
If not Agra, where?
And slowly in his mind a form had taken shape. He had
examined it, almost touched it, puzzled over it. And then he knew what it was.
The mint at Surat. Where foreign coin is melted and recast as rupees. Fifty lakhs of silver rupees would scarcely be missed. Especially if the Shahbandar would allow his minters to work a normal day. The backlog of foreign coin he holds unmelted, creating an artificial shortage of silver, would easily cover fifty lakhs of rupees. I need only borrow what I need, and with it buy back into service the cavalry I need to reclaim the Deccan.