"But aren't you Persian yourself?"
"I was born in India, but yes, I have the great fortune to be of Persian blood. There are many Persians in India. You know, Persians still intimidate the Moghuls. Ours is a magnificent culture, an ancient culture, and Persians never let the Moghuls forget it." Shirin had dabbed at her brow and rose to peer out the door of the observatory building, as though by instinct. "Did you know that the first Moghul came to India less than a hundred years ago, actually after the Portuguese? He was named Babur, a distant descendant of the Mongol warrior Genghis Khan, and he was from Central Asia. Babur was the grandfather of Akman. They say he had wanted to invade Persia but that the ruling dynasty, the Safavis, was too strong. So he invaded India instead, and the Moghuls have been trying to make it into Persia ever since. That's why Persians can always find work in India. They teach their language at court, and give lessons in fashion, and in painting and garden design. Samad came here from Persia, and now he's the national poet."
"What do these Persians have to do with whatever's happening in Agra? Are you, or your family, somehow involved too?"
"My father was Shayhk Mirak." She hesitated a moment, as though expecting a response. Then she continued evenly, "Of course, you'd not know of him. He was a court painter. He came to India when Akman was Moghul and took a position under the Persian Mir Sayyid Ali, who directed the painting studio Akman founded. You know, I've always found it amusing that Akman had to use Persian artists to create the Moghul school of Indian painting. Anyway, my father was very skilled at Moghul portraits, which everybody now says were invented by Akman. And when Akman died, Arangbar named my father to head the school. It lasted until she was brought to Agra."
"Who?"
"The queen, the one called Janahara."
"But why was your father sent away?"
"Because I was sent away."
Hawksworth thought he sensed a kind of nervous intensity quivering behind Shirin's voice. It's your story, he told himself, that I'd really like to hear. But he said nothing, and the silence swelled. Finally she spoke again.
"To understand the trouble now, you must understand about the queen. Her story is almost amazing, and already legends are growing around her. It's said she was born the day her father, Zainul Beg, left Persia as an adventurer bound for India. He ordered her abandoned in the sun to die, but after the caravan traveled on his wife lamented for the baby so much he decided to return for her. Although the sun was intense, they found her still alive. It's said a cobra was shading her with his hood." Shirin turned to Hawksworth, her dark eyes seeming to snap. "Can you believe such a story?"