The Moghul

was home to over half a million, more than lived in any capital of Europe, and some said a man on horseback could scarcely circle it in a day. Yet most of the city was far from grand. It was a jumble of two-story brick and tile merchant houses, clay-faced homes of Hindu tradesmen, and a spreading sea of mud and thatch one-room hovels that sheltered the rest.
    But along the river on either side of the Red Fort had been created a different world. There glistened the mansions of Moghul grandees like Nadir Sharif, magical and remote, behind whose walls lay spacious gardens cooled by marble fountains and gilded rooms filled with carpets from Persia, porcelains from China, imported crystal from Venice. Their zenanas thronging with exquisite, dark-eyed women, and their tapestried halls with hosts of slaves and eunuchs.
    Nadir Sharif inhaled the clean air of morning and surveyed the palaces on either side along the riverbank. They were all sumptuous, but none more than his own. A vainer man might have swelled with pride at such a moment, but Nadir Sharif knew from years of court experience that vanity always led, inevitably, to excess, and finally to debt and ruin. To keep one's place, he often told himself, one must know it. He also knew that to hold one's ground, one must know when to shift.
    His reverie was abruptly dispelled by the noise of shuffling feet, and then a hesitant voice.
    "A man is at the outer gate, Sharif Sahib, asking to see you."
    Nadir Sharif turned to see the eunuch's spotless white turban bowing toward him. He flared inwardly that his orders for absolute privacy had been ignored, and then, as always, he waited a few seconds for composure before speaking.
    "I'm too ill to receive. Have you already forgotten my orders?"
    "Forgive me, Sharif Sahib." The eunuch bowed ever lower and raised his clasped palms in involuntary supplication. "He has demanded an audience. He claimed he has arrived last night from the Deccan. He was with the prince . . ."
    Nadir Sharifs body tensed perceptibly. "What name did he give?"
    "A Rajput name, Sharif Sahib. He said he was requested by Her Highness, the princess, to report to you immediately on arriving."
    Nadir Sharifs heart skipped a beat. Does this mean the English feringhi has arrived? Allah! On this of all days.
    "Tell him I am at home." The voice was coolly matter-of-fact.
    The eunuch bowed again and disappeared without a word. As Nadir Sharif watched his skirt vanish past the doorway tapestry, he tried to clear his mind and decide quickly what now must be done. Instinctively he turned once more to monitor the darshan balcony. Still nothing. Then he smiled fleetingly, realizing that the fate of the Englishman would depend very much on what happened at darshan this very morning.
    The visitor appeared, in freshly brushed red turban and jeweled earrings, and wordlessly strode past the eunuch at the doorway, pushing the partially opened tapestry aside as though a foe in battle. There was about the man the haughty carriage and contemptuous eyes always encountered among Rajputs in high places, and Nadir Sharif recognized him immediately. The prime minister also knew this particular Rajput had never trusted him, and never would.
    "Nimaste, Sharif Sahib." Vasant Rao's salaam was correct but cold. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
    "When did you arrive?"
    "Last evening."
    "Have you arranged lodgings for the English feringhi ? Even before informing me you were here?"
    "He has no lodgings yet, Sharif Sahib, only rooms at a guest house. The feringhi insisted no one be informed of his arrival. He did not say why." Vasant Rao returned Nadir Sharifs expressionless stare. "The prince's orders were to honor the feringhi’s requests whenever possible."
    Nadir Sharifs face betrayed none of his anger as he turned again toward the darshan balcony. A flock of vagrant pigeons darted overhead, following the line of palaces along the river.
    "How is the child?"
    "He is well formed, Sharif Sahib. Your daughter, Her Highness, was also well when I left Burhanpur. She gave me this dispatch for you."
    Nadir Sharif accepted the bamboo tube and, controlling his expression, tossed it aside as though it were of no more consequence than a gardener's report brought by a eunuch. "I've received no pigeons from her for four weeks. Only official dispatches from Ghulam Adl's secretary in Burhanpur, which tell nothing. Why isn't he in the field with Jadar? What is happening?"
    "I'm not with the army now,