The Moghul

when we arrived."
    "It's good she's out of Surat. With Mukarrab Khan gone, she's no longer any help there. But I've always wanted to thank her somehow. She's one of the best. And our only woman. I don't think anyone ever guessed what she really did."
    "I will thank her for you. Her message was a request. Something only I could arrange. A favor for a favor."
    "And what was that?"
    "Just something between women, my love. Nothing to do with armies and wars." Mumtaz shifted on the bolster and took a perfumed pan. "Allah, I'm tired."
    Jadar studied her face again, marveling as always how it seemed to attest to her spirit.
    "Then rest. I hope the cannon won't disturb you."
    "It should have been another girl. Then there'd be no cannon."
    "And no heir." Jadar turned to leave and Mumtaz eased herself back on the bolster. Then she lifted herself again and called Jadar.
    "Who is escorting the English feringhi to Agra?"
    "Unfortunately it's Vasant Rao. And just when I need him. But he demanded to do it personally."
    "I'm glad." Mumtaz smiled weakly. "Have him see one of my servants before they leave."
    "Why should I bother him with that?"
    "To humor me." She paused. "Is this feringhi handsome?"
    "Why do you ask?"
    "A woman's curiosity."
    "I haven't seen him yet. I do suspect he's quick. Perhaps too quick. But I'll find out more tomorrow. And then I'll decide what I have to do." Jadar paused at the doorway, while the dai pulled aside the curtains that had been newly hung. "Sleep. And watch over my new prince. He's our first victory in the Deccan. I pray to Allah he's not our last."
    He turned and was gone. Minutes later the cannon salutes began.

    *
    Hawksworth began to count the stone stairs after the third twisting turn of the descending corridor, and his eyes searched through the smoke and flickering torchlight for some order in the arched doorways that opened out on each level as they went farther and farther down. Ail object struck him across the face and his hand plunged for his sword, before he remembered he had left it in his quarters, on Jadar's command. Then he heard the high-pitched shriek of a bat and saw it flutter into the shadows. The torchbearers were ten Rajputs of Jadar's personal guard, armed with the usual swords and half-pikes. None spoke as their footsteps clattered through the musty subterranean air.
    Hawksworth felt the dankness against the beads of sweat forming on his skin. As the old memory of a dark prison welled up, he suddenly realized he was terrified.
    Why did I agree to meet him here? This is not "the lower level of the fortress." This is a dungeon. But he can't detain me, not with a safe conduct pass from the Moghul.
    Still, he might try. If he wants to keep me out of Agra while he's away on campaign. And he may. I already smell this campaign is doomed.
    It was the evening of Hawksworth's third day in the Burhanpur fortress. When the convoy arrived at the village of Bahadurpur, three kos west of Burhanpur, they had been met by Jadar's personal guards and escorted through the city and into the walled compound of the fortress. He had been given spacious, carpeted quarters, always guarded, and had seen no one, not even Vasant Rao. Communications with Jadar had been by courier, and finally they had agreed on a neutral meeting place. Jadar had suggested a location in the palace where they would have privacy, yet be outside his official quarters. Since they would meet as officials of state, Jadar had insisted on no weapons.
    No visible weapons, Hawksworth told himself, glad he wore boots.
    The corridor narrowed slightly, then ended abruptly at a heavy wooden door. Iron braces were patterned over the face of the door and in its center was a small window, secured with heavy bars. Armed Rajputs stood on either side and as Hawksworth's party approached they snapped about, hands at their swords. Then the leader of Hawksworth's guards spoke through the smoke-filled air, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
    "Krishna plays his flute."
    A voice came from the sentries at the door.
    "And longing gopis burn."
    Again Hawksworth's guard.
    "With a maid's desire."
    Immediately the sentries slid back the ancient iron bolt that spanned the face of the door. Then came the rasping scrape of another bolt on the inside being released. When he heard the sound, Hawksworth felt a surge of fear and stared around wildly at the faces of the guards. They all stood menacingly, with a regal bearing and expressionless faces. Each