The Moghul

He grabbed it, scooped up his pistol and jerkin, and took Shirin by the arm as they pushed through the smoke toward the entrance, stepping over the bodies of the guards as they emerged into the night air.
    Ahead, beside Shirin's tent, waited saddled horses and a group of turbaned riders. As they ran toward the horses, Hawksworth recognized several Rajputs from Arangbar's private guard among the horsemen.
    "We were ready to ride." Vasant Rao seized the rein of one of the horses and vaulted into the saddle. "You were out walking or we could have left sooner. Shirin demanded we wait. It was well we did. Lord Krishna still seems to be watching over you, Captain."
    "Which way are we headed?" Hawksworth helped Shirin into a saddle, watching as she uncertainly grabbed the horn for balance, then, still clasping the bundle, pulled himself onto a pawing Arabian mare.
    "West. The rest of the men are already waiting at the end of the valley." Vasant Rao whipped his horse and led the way as they galloped toward the perimeter of the tent city. "This will be a long ride, my friend."
    As Hawksworth watched the last of the tents recede into the dark, he saw disappearing with them his final chance for a firman. He would never see Arangbar again. Probably he would never see London again.
    I've traded it all for a woman. And I still wonder if she's mine.
    God help me.

    BOOK FIVE

    PRINCE JADAR

    CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

    Hawksworth heard the exultant cheer of the Rajputs riding behind him and snapped awake. It was midmorning of the third day and he had been dozing fitfully in the saddle since dawn, fatigue deep in his bones. Through the trees ahead the camp of Prince Jadar lay spread before them, blanketing half the valley.
    "I told you we'd make the camp in three days' ride." Vasant Rao smiled wearily at Hawksworth and spurred his lathered mount forward. "Every man with us is eager to be with the prince."
    They had covered, it seemed to Hawksworth, well over a hundred miles since departing the environs of Fatehpur. Between five and six hundred Rajputs rode behind them, all heavily armed with an array of swords, pikes, clubs, saddle-axes. Each man's body armor, a woven network of steel and the quilted garment worn beneath it, was secured behind his saddle, ready to be donned for combat. Hanging at the side of each rider was a round leather shield and a large quiver containing his horn bow and arrows. None carried muskets.
    Hawksworth glanced back at Shirin, who rode a few paces behind, and they shared a tired smile. She had ridden the distance like a Rajput, but now her eyes were glazed with weariness. He had suddenly realized, the morning after they all galloped out of the camp at Fatehpur, that he had never before seen a woman in India ride. Where had she learned? He had pondered the question for an hour, riding behind her to watch her easy posture in the saddle, and then he had pulled alongside and asked her point-blank. She said nothing, merely smiled and tossed the loose strands of hair back from her face. He understood her well enough to know this meant she had never ridden before . . . and didn't wish Vasant Rao to know.
    "This is the moment I've waited for so long." She reined her mount alongside Hawksworth's, reached out and touched his hand. "You must help the prince now too."
    "I'm not so sure I'm eager to die for Prince Jadar."
    "You can always go back to Agra. And wait to be murdered by Janahara's guards. The prince has saved your life, and mine, once already. What makes you think he'll bother with you again?"
    "To tell the truth, he also saved my life several months ago, the night we made landfall at Surat and were ambushed on the Tapti River by the Portugals."
    "I know." She spurred her horse ahead. "I received the pigeon from Prince Jadar ordering it. I passed the message to the Shahbandar, Mirza Nuruddin, who sent his personal Rajputs to protect you."
    Hawksworth urged his horse back alongside. "So I was right. You were one of Jadar's agents in Surat. What did Nadir Sharif once call them . . . swanih-nigars ?”
    "I gathered information for the prince." She smiled in consent. "I kept his accounts and coded his ciphers at the old observatory. Then you came along and started combing through it. You made my work that much more difficult. I never knew when you'd decide to go out there. Or what you'd find."
    "Why didn't you just tell me? What did I care?"
    "Too much was at risk. The prince once said never to trust a topiwallah