Janahara seemed not to hear him as she rose and walked toward the door of the tent. Nadir Sharif stepped aside as she shoved back the tapestry and stared out into the valley.
"This morning I ordered Inayat Latif to mobilize and march."
"Without telling His Majesty!" Nadir Sharif stared at her incredulously.
"I ordered it in his name. I suspected something like this might happen, so I had him sign and stamp the order four days ago."
"Was His Majesty entirely sob . . ." Nadir Sharif hesitated. "Was he in full understanding of what he was authorizing?"
"That hardly matters now. But you must place the seal you keep on the order also before it's forwarded to the wazir to be officially recorded." She did not shift her gaze from the sunlit valley. "It's on the table behind you."
Nadir Sharif turned and stared down at the gold-inlaid stand. The order was there, a single folded piece of paper inside a gilded leather cover. The string which would secure it had not yet been tied.
"You were wise to have taken this precaution, Majesty." Nadir Sharif glanced back at Janahara, his voice flowing with admiration. "There's no predicting His Majesty's mind these days. Only yesterday I discovered he had completely forgotten . . ."
"Have you stamped it?"
"My seal is not here, Majesty." He paused. "And I was wondering . . . would it be wise to review our strategy briefly with His Majesty, lest he become confused later and forget he authorized the order? Perhaps even countermand it?"