. . . "Of course I've heard. It was my idea. Although His Majesty naturally assumes he thought of it all by himself. Making the feringhi a khan will confuse the Portuguese. And it will take everyone's mind off the firman for a while." Queen Janahara had received Nadir Sharif immediately after Arangbar retired to the zenana for his afternoon dalliance. The balcony of the Jasmine Tower was empty, the servants all ordered back to the zenana. I'm more interested in the English fleet. Do you know what has happened?"
"What do you mean, Majesty?" Nadir Sharif noted that he had not been invited to sit.
"There was another message today, a private message from His Excellency, Miguel Vaijantes." Janahara raised a silver, hourglass-shaped cuspidor to her lips and delicately discharged red betel juice. "Can you guess what he has dared to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Miguel Vaijantes is a man without courage. The understanding was very clear."
"The understanding, Your Majesty?"
"We have kept our side of the agreement. There has been no firman for the English feringhi. But now His Excellency has declared that he must off-load the arms. He has begun assembling an armada to sail north and intercept the English."
"The arms, Your Majesty?" Nadir Sharif moved closer. "Miguel Vaijantes was shipping arms?"
"Surely you knew. My dear brother, has anything ever escaped your rapacious eyes." She smiled, then spat again. "For Ahmadnagar. Small arms and cannon."
"You were arming Malik Ambar? Against Jadar?" Nadir Sharif could not strain the surprise from his voice.