"As ordered, Khan Sahib." The eunuch snapped to formality.
"Then see dinner is served my guests, or put my kitchen wallahs to the lash." He turned back to Hawksworth. "I'm told you met her once, Ambassador. I trust she was more pleasant then."
"Merely by accident, Excellency. While I was at the . . . in the garden."
"She does very little by accident. You should mark her well."
"Your counsel is always welcome, Excellency." Hawksworth felt his pulse surge. "What will she do now?"
"I think she will have all her wishes granted." He turned wearily toward the marble columns of the veranda. "You will forgive me if I must leave you now for a while. You understand I have further dispatches to prepare."
He turned and was gone. After a moment's pause, the despairing Jesuits trailed after.
And suddenly the courtyard seemed empty.
The waves curled gently against the shore, breaking iridescent over the staves of a half-buried keg. Before him the sea spread wide and empty. Only a single sail broke the horizon. His mare pawed impatiently, but Hawksworth could not bring himself to turn her back toward the road. Not yet. Only when the sail's white had blended with the sea did he rein her around and, with one last glance at the empty blue, give her the spur.
He rode briskly past the nodding palms along the shore, then turned inland toward Surat, through villages of thatch- roofed houses on low stilts. Women watched from the wide porches, sewing, nursing infants. After a time he no longer saw them, no longer urged the mare. His thoughts were filled with images from the tumultuous evening past.