The Moghul

here?"
    "When the first Moghul conqueror arrived in India, almost a century ago, he declared the land here around Agra to be particularly barren and depressing. So he immediately built a Persian garden. But we must all do our share, so today there are many gardens, all over India. The garden, you see, is our tribute to nature."
    "But why so geometrical? Your garden uses water, stones, and plants to create designs that seem almost like the marble floors of your palace."
    "Mathematics, Ambassador, principles of law. Islam is the rule of law. Why do you think we have so many mathematicians? I deliberately designed this garden with calculated geometric divisions. It provides me great satisfaction to impose order on the willfulness of nature."
    "But why are the stone pathways all elevated above the level of the garden? In English gardens they're at ground level and lined with shrubs."
    "But surely that's obvious as well. Our gardens are really concealed waterways, with water constantly flowing from one end to the other. We must put the walkways above the water." Nadir Sharif waved his hand. "But all of that is merely mechanics. The garden is where we find peace. It's where we wait to greet the spring, whose arrival we celebrate at the Persian New Year."
    Nadir Sharif strolled to a window and looked out on the garden. "Spring in India seems to come up from the south. It's said that buds appear each day a few kos farther north, like a tender army on the march. But we Persians believe that spring must have a haven if she is to stay. And that's another reason we build gardens."
    "I don't understand."
    "There's a famous poem in Persian, by the poet Farrukhi, about gardens and spring. He once wrote of a place where spring always arrived feeling lowly and despised, because there was no land for her save desert, a place of rocks and thistles. But then a rich man—actually the patron of Farrukhi, whom he was writing to flatter—built a garden for her and the next year spring came forth from the south and found a home there." Nadir Sharif smiled. "In fact the poem begins by comparing spring's original arrivals to that of a bankrupt feringhi's , who appeared with no carpet, no livelihood. But after spring discovered the garden, she brought from the south turquoise for the willows, rubies for the rose."
    Nadir Sharif smiled. "What do you think of Farrukhi's poem, Ambassador?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Curiosity. I was wondering what are the chances that spring will come again from the south this year? Did the 'bankrupt feringhi merely come to see if the garden was ready? Was the first arrival of spring false, with the real arrival yet to come?"
    Hawksworth studied Nadir Sharifs face. "I don't understand what you're trying to say. But I would like to know if you've spoken to His Majesty about the firman ."
    "Please believe I mention it daily. I think now he'll soon agree to terms."
    "Then there's nothing yet?" Hawksworth set down the glass of wine. "I assumed that was why you wanted to speak to me. But you just wanted to talk about Persian gardens and Persian poets."
    "Ambassador, I'm not a man for idle talk. Surely we know each other better than that." Nadir Sharif turned and banished the servants and eunuchs with a wave of his hand.
    "Tell me. I know you met Prince Jadar once. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think he's a clever man?"
    Hawksworth nodded noncommittally.
    "I can assure you, Ambassador, that he's very clever indeed. Even his staunchest detractors would agree on that. And he's also resourceful. Not many here are aware he has a full intelligence network of his own. He does not, of course, have access to the dispatches of the official court reporters in the provinces, the wakianavis , or the dispatches of His Majesty's confidential reporters, the harkaras ." Nadir Sharif paused. "At least we do not think he has access to their reports. But in a way he doesn't really need them. You see, he has his own system of reporters, which we know he began creating over two years ago. Spies whose identity is carefully guarded. We do not know any of their names, but we do know he calls them his swanih-nigars , and they prepare detailed information on anything in the provinces he asks them to. His network is extensive and, I understand, quite effective."
    Hawksworth suddenly found himself remembering Shirin, the papers in the observatory, and wondering . . .
    "Naturally he has agents along the southern coast. But at times they can be