Sangeeta seemed near collapse as she bowed to Arangbar. The Moghul smiled broadly, withdrew a velvet purse of coins from his cloak, and threw it at her feet. Moments later several others in the room followed suit. With a second bow she scooped the purses from the carpet and vanished through the curtains. The cheers followed her long after she was gone.
"What do you think, Ambassador? You know half the men here would give a thousand gold mohurs to have her tonight." Nadir Sharif beamed mischievously. "The other half two thousand."
"Come forward." Arangbar motioned to the singer sitting on the carpet. He was, Hawksworth now realized, an aging, portly man with short white hair and a painful limp. As he approached Arangbar's dais, he began removing the tiny cymbals attached to the fingers of one hand that he had used to keep time for the dancer.
"He's her guru, her teacher." Nadir Sharif pointed to the man as he bowed obsequiously before the Moghul. "If His Majesty decides to select Sangeeta to dance at the wedding, his fortune will be made. Frankly I thought she was good, though there is still a trifle too much flair in her style, too many tricks. But then she's young, and perhaps it's too soon to expect genuine maturity. Still, I noticed His Majesty was taken with her. She could well find herself in the zenana soon."
Arangbar flipped another purse of coins to the man, and then spoke to him curtly in Persian.
"His Majesty has expressed his admiration, and says he may call him again after he has seen the other dancers." Nadir Sharif winked. "Choosing the dancers is a weighty responsibility. Naturally His Majesty will want to carefully review all the women."
The lamps brightened again and servants bustled about the carpet filling glasses and exchanging the burned-out tobacco chillum, clay bowls at the top of each hookah. When they had finished, Arangbar took another glass of wine and signaled for the lamps to be lowered once more. A new group of musicians began filing into the room, carrying instruments Hawksworth had never before seen. First came the drummer, who carried not the two short tabla drums but rather a single long instrument, designed to be played at both ends simultaneously. A singer entered next, already wearing small gold cymbals on each hand. Finally a third man entered, carrying nothing but a piece of inch-thick bamboo, less than two feet in length and perforated with a line of holes.
Arangbar looked quizzically at Nadir Sharif.
As though reading the question, the prime minister rose and spoke in Turki. "This one's name is Kamala, Your Majesty. She is originally from the south, but now she is famous among the Hindus in Agra. Although I have never seen her dance, I assumed Your Majesty would want to humor the Hindus by auditioning her."
"We are a sovereign of all our subjects. I have never seen this Hindu dance. Nor these instruments of the south. What are they called?"