“Be seated,” the man who had fetched them said with a broad gesture at a group of cushions arrayed around a low dais with several trays of refreshment. “Be refreshed. Your host will be with you momentarily.” He departed on silent feet.
Looking about, the men of the Mission sat down. Bobby sniffed an ewer and, apparently satisfied, poured a drink. He offered the glass to Jadu, who accepted the cup.
“Think it’s safe to talk?” Bobby asked, pouring another. Given they did not want to be understood if overheard, he set aside their general rule about speaking English.
Ricky leaned back and let his eyes follow the line-and-pulley system powering the fans to where they ran through openings high up in the walls. Figuring the slaves laboring to drive the fans were too distant to overhear any reasonably quiet discussion, he nodded.
Jadu was also nodding. “We are to feel comfortable speaking”—he raised his glass—“hence the absence of service.”
“Did you see something?” Ricky said.
“No. Guess I was just hoping one of you two saw something I didn’t,” Bobby said.
“Just another wait, man.”
Bobby sighed and nodded. They were just settling in when a man in fine robes strode in. He spared a glance for the trio waiting on him but sat without a word.
Ricky was struck by the feeling he’d seen the man before, but couldn’t place him. From Jadu’s sudden razor-sharp attentiveness, he recognized the man, too.
“You have been in Patna long, merchant?” the man said without preamble. His Persian was smooth and cultured, his accent something Ricky hadn’t heard since leaving court.
“For several weeks now, Shaista Khan,” Jadu said.
Oh, I see the family resemblance now…Looks like a younger version of Asaf Khan. Supposed to be a general in his own right, and the one man Jadu believed would succeed his father. He’s…uncle to Dara and Jahanara, then? He hid a smile. I swear these folks are just as close-knit as small-town West Virginians, all related by blood or marriage, or both.
The man did nothing to confirm or deny Jadu’s use of his name, instead asking, “And your business is concluded?”
“For the most part”—Jadu paused as if considering, then said—“forgive me, but I am uncertain what mode of address I should use?”
That drew an arched brow, but no reply.
Jadu glanced at his companions.
Ricky cleared his throat, drawing the man’s gaze.
Shaista Khan’s other brow joined its companion, though Ricky suspected he was not at all surprised. “You have something to say?” he asked.
“Maybe I do,” Ricky said, disliking the high-handed manner of the man and, frankly, frustrated and impatient with the whole damn thing. Politics was not a game he liked to play.
“Maybe? You seem uncertain. Perhaps it is the…irregular nature of your arrival here that makes you so uncertain?”
Dick.
“There is little uncertainty to it,” Jadu said. “We are merchants, trading on a firman issued by the Sultan Al’Azam, Dara Shikoh.”
“But that is not all you are, is it?”
Jadu’s only answer was to look a question at Ricky.
“No, that isn’t everything we’re about.” Ricky looked from his friend to the nobleman.
Fuck it.
“But if you insist on playing games, you will have to allow us our little mysteries as well.”
Jadu winced, but Shaista Khan laughed.
“And if I continue to insist?” he asked, stroking his oiled beard.
“Then I suppose we’ll close up shop and head back to Agra.”
“You already tire of Patna?”
“As Jadu said, we’ve finished trading for the season. We had hoped to get some other business done, but it seems everyone wants to waste our time.”
“And what other business did you have?” Shaista Khan asked, all trace of banter gone from his tone.
“Why,” Jadu interjected, “to meet with your father, or his chosen representative, and discuss certain matters of mutual interest.”
“I am that representative.”
“Oh?” Jadu said. “I had not heard an announcement to that effect.”
“No, you have not.”
“Then how are we to proceed?” Jadu cocked his head.
“I am not certain, good merchant. I, too, have not heard who it is you are here to represent.”
Jadu again looked at Ricky, who nodded, wondering when Jadu had decided he needed Ricky’s permission to speak for them.
The merchant took a deep breath and said, “In truth, we are here on behalf of Dara Shikoh, not only as merchants, but also in order to locate the noble Asaf Khan and, if possible, determine which son of Shah Jahan he would serve.”
Again those eyebrows rose. “And why do you, clearly the senior man, defer to these youngsters?” He gestured at Ricky and Bobby.
“Simply put, Great Khan, it is they who have the ear of the emperor, not I.”
“It’s true the Mission has influence, but I’ve barely met the man,” Ricky put in.
“Why not send a munshi or other senior member of the court?”
“The trade we have engaged in was necessary, and such a personage was considered, but the emperor and his counselors did not wish to display concern over your father’s loyalty, and offer offence.”
Shaista Khan sat back, stroking his beard for several long moments.
Jadu leaned forward, looking very much like a cat about to pounce.
“I told him to answer,” Shaista Kahn said after a moment’s thought, “but he has ever been slow to take counsel from his children.”
“He is well, then?”
“No, not well.”
“But he lives?”
“Oh, most certainly.”
Chapter 25
Agra
Red Fort, harem precincts
“You really have no idea, do you?” Roshanara said, wishing she could see, and therefore read, his expression. She had many wishes, all of which looked to remain unfulfilled, at least in the near term. If she had to choose one wish she could have fulfilled immediately, it would not be to put an end to the roundabout code they were forced to employ in order to communicate.
“I’m afraid I do not, Shehzadi,” the physician answered from beyond the jali. “I conveyed your requirements to the herbalist, but have not heard back as yet whether there is some new decoction ready for use.”
“That is not what I wished to hear.”
“Nor what I wished to convey, Shehzadi. There is also another request
