"Where is His Majesty now?"
"He has retired to the zenana for one pahar, three hours, where he dines on roasted meats, some wine, and passes the time agreeably. Each afternoon Her Majesty selects a woman for him." Moghul smiled. "Naturally it's never the same one. Her Majesty is always first in his heart, but she never allows his wanton affections to wander. Afterward he comes here for his evening gathering." Nadir Sharif walked to the gallery and looked down on the river. Far below, on the opposite bank, a caravan of heavily loaded camels passed silently. "By the way, His Majesty has asked me to inquire if you have a lodging yet, Ambassador."
"I have references for brokers, and tomorrow I'll begin to look."
"And personal servants?"
"I'd hoped they'd be provided with the house."
"His Majesty may wish to arrange lodgings for you." Nadir Sharif turned back toward Hawksworth and paused for a moment before continuing. "In Agra ambassadors must acquire their lodgings and servants with care. There is, regrettably, a certain amount of intrigue in our city. Trustworthy and efficient servants are not always the easiest thing to find. Perhaps I should raise the matter of your lodging and servants with His Majesty."
"There's no reason to trouble His Majesty. I'll contact the
brokers tomorrow." Hawksworth's tone was level but firm, suspecting that any servants picked for him would be spies. And if they turned out to be "trustworthy and efficient" rather than lazy and begrudging, there would be no doubt.
"The matter rests with His Majesty." Nadir Sharif watched as a eunuch entered bearing a tray with glasses of sharbat. A sarangi player followed him and settled in the corner, striking up a mournful-sounding tune on an instrument that looked like a bloated violin and sounded, to Hawksworth, like a distressed cat.
"Have you engaged an agent yet, Ambassador?" Nadir Sharif directed the tray toward Hawksworth.