"Your face is still fresh as the dawn, though your kohl is the dust of war." Mumtaz's Persian was delicate and laced with poetic allusions. She kissed Shirin, then looked down and noticed her right hand. "And what happened to your thumb?"
"I had no bow ring. You know we aren't supposed to shoot."
"Or do anything else except bear sons." Mumtaz flashed a mock frown in the direction of Jadar. "If I would let him, His Highness would treat me like some stupid Arab wet nurse instead of a Persian." She embraced Shirin again and kissed her once more. "I also know you learned to fire a matchlock today."
"How did you find out?"
"Some of the Rajputs saw you shoot a Bundella horseman who had breached their lines and reached His Highness' elephant. One of them told my eunuchs." Her voice dropped. "He said you saved His Highness' life. I want to thank you."
"It was my duty."
"No, it was your love. I'm sorry I dare not tell His Highness what you did. He must never find out. He's already worried about too many obligations. You saw what just happened tonight with father. I think he's very troubled about what price he may be asked to pay someday for what happened today."
"I must tell you the English feringhi also shot the Bundella who had mounted His Highness' elephant."
"Is he the one there?" Mumtaz nodded discreetly toward Hawksworth, who stood uncomprehending, his haggard face and jerkin smeared with smoke. Her voice had risen slightly and now her Persian was lilting again.
"He's the one."