"There are other ways to negate the heretic's influence. Perhaps the Englishman's . . . situation with His Majesty can be rendered less intimate. Perhaps he could be removed from favor. If only for a time."
"So you have come to ask me to work miracles for you, when you do nothing for yourself." Nadir Sharif rose and strolled to a latticework window. He studied the garden for a moment, then spoke without turning. "Have you advised His Majesty in explicit terms of the Viceroy's displeasure with the English intrusion into our . . . into Portuguese waters?"
"It has been made known. Many times."
"But have you suggested the consequences?" Nadir Sharif turned and gazed past Pinheiro, his eyes playing on the scalloped marble arch of the entryway.
"The consequences are obvious. The warships at Goa are capable of terminating all trade in the Indian Ocean if His Excellency so pleases."
"Then you should merely engage the English." Nadir Sharif consciously deleted the irony from his voice.
"That is an entirely separate matter. The English frigates are of a new design, very swift. They may possibly have eluded us for a time." Pinheiro's voice hardened. "But do not doubt our galleons are swifter than any of the trading vessels of His Majesty's fleet. India's own Red Sea trade continues only at the Viceroy's discretion."
"That is true enough. But are you prepared to demonstrate your . . . displeasure." Nadir Sharif revolved back to the window. "I do not think His Majesty actually believes the Viceroy would ever take hostile action."
"What are you suggesting?" Pinheiro's voice betrayed momentary disbelief.
"Nothing that you have not already brought to His Majesty's attention. But possibly he does not believe you have the conviction, or the strength, to carry it through. The English feringhi constantly brags to him of English superiority at sea, hinting that his king will soon drive Portugal from the Indian Ocean. I've heard it so often myself I confess I'm near to believing him too."