And if you would have given him what he asked for in the first place we wouldn’t be here.
“Would you allow me to…” She let the request trail off unfinished, unsure how to proceed.
“To what? To speak to him on my behalf again?” Aurangzeb shook his head. “While I have no doubt of your experience and skill, the fool is so unreasonable even your abilities would prove insufficient to retrieve him from the folly he is bent on.”
Knowing she could scarcely correct his assumption she wanted to talk to the man with a request to assassinate the priest, Nur asked, “But what of the men he represents? Can you afford to give up the supplies the Portuguese are sending?”
He nodded, the gesture more indicative of his approval of the question than an answer to it. He slapped the hands of his body slave away and put the last toggle through the embroidered loop himself.
Sensing his irritation, Nur waited for the emperor to speak his mind.
“I have considered the possible ramifications.” He turned to look at her. “At least all those I’m aware of.”
He knows.
“I do not wish to be presumptuous but—”
“There is information you think I do not have,” he said, interrupting her.
“Say, rather, I wish to make certain you have it, as it might affect how you choose to deal with De Jesus.”
He gestured as if to say, “Get on with it.”
“I only just received word that Shaista Khan moves against you with an army of twenty thousand.”
“It’s closer to thirty thousand. And his advance scouts are less than a week from Agra. But beyond that, one of the men loyal to Shahaji reported his death this morning.”
“Oh?” Nur prompted when Aurangzeb said nothing further.
“Apparently we were deceived. The Amir Salim Gadh Visa Yilmaz attacked and sacked a supply caravan from the Europeans. When Shahaji and his men went to hunt the Afghan down, he enlisted the help of other Maratha. One of these men attacked and killed Shahaji in front of Salim Yilmaz, who took no part in the slaying.”
“But why?” Nur asked.
Aurangzeb shrugged. “The Bhonsle, Shahaji’s clan, have done very well through their cooperation with the throne, gaining much wealth and no little power over their rivals for control of the region. This other chief resented those gains as well as Shahaji’s high-handed assertions and manner during truce talks with Salim. Shahaji apparently drew a knife and threatened the other chief in front of both Salim and the Maratha chiefs. A duel ensued. Shahaji won that duel, but died shortly after the victory.”
Nur heard a note of sadness in the young man’s voice and felt a strange, sudden, and quite powerful sense of relief.
A moment’s reflection unearthed the source of the sensation: aside from the occasion of the death of his father, Aurangzeb had rarely revealed any feelings for his fellow man. A ruler must, of necessity, remain aloof from most common feelings of camaraderie and the like, but to be entirely free from such emotion was to be a monster. And such a monster sitting the Peacock Throne would truly be in a position to devastate the world.
“He will be missed,” Nur said.
Aurangzeb nodded but said nothing, hands smoothing his robe unnecessarily.
“But does it follow, then, that the Afghan works for Dara still?” Nur wondered aloud, seeking to move the Sultan Al’Azam from such thoughts.
“Does it matter?” Aurangzeb asked.
Refusing to rise to the bait and thereby give the young man reason to ignore her advice, Nur looked away.
Aurangzeb noticed, as he did most things. “Speak your mind,” he commanded.
“Your will, Sultan Al’Azam. It seems to me that everything matters, the hearts of those poised to be either friend or foe more than anything else.”
“I have no knowledge that he is poised to be anything to me other than a nuisance. He may have been acting solely as a bandit: having seen easy prey, he seized it.” Aurangzeb raised a finger. “He might equally have been acting on Dara’s orders. We cannot know. What I do know is that his actions denied me both a valuable retainer and supplies for my army. In the end, these two setbacks benefit Dara. In light of these facts, I think I might be forgiven for thinking he is working for the pretender.”
Nur, having come to the realization that it was this information, rather than news that Shaista Khan was so close, that precipitated Aurangzeb’s decision to rid himself of the priest, hid a smile. If the Afghan was sacking their supply caravans en route to the army, then enduring his petulant and insulting presence was no longer necessary.
An example could be made.
Once again, she felt the cold satisfaction of having chosen the proper prince to back.
Inclining her head in genuine admiration, she said, “Like a dervish, you dance ahead of your enemies. Truly, God has favored you. I see my warnings and information were superfluous. Forgive me, Sultan Al’Azam.”
A more natural smile graced his thin lips, making Aurangzeb appear his age for once. “Have you not just finished telling me that all intelligence is useful? I simply seek to make best use of all that God provides. That precept in mind, the departure of the priest will be made useful to me in binding my umara further still to my cause and the will of God. Once that is accomplished, I shall reveal the true reason I called the public audience this evening: not simply to deal with one recalcitrant Christian priest, but to announce the plan for storming Red Fort.”
Nur nodded. “Your will, Sultan Al’Azam.”
Aurangzeb sniffed. “What, no cautions? No assertions that I am being precipitous?”
“Not this day, Sultan Al’Azam. I believe I understand perfectly why you must take Red Fort as soon as possible. And if I don’t, I’m sure you’ll explain in sufficient detail that both my ignorance and any reservations I might have would be dispelled.”
“God willing I will dispel the ignorance and reservations of all
