"He said I might find the observatory curious, as a navigator. He was right. But there must be some charts. I thought this room might . . ." "There are some old papers here. Perhaps he thought this place would keep you occupied. Or test you one more time." "What do you mean?" She answered with a hard laugh, then circled Hawksworth and examined him in the glancing morning light. Her dark hair was backlighted now from the sun streaming through the doorway, her gauze head scarf glistening like spun gold. "Yes, you're a _feringhi_. Just like all the rest." Her eyes flashed. "How many more like you are there in Europe? Enough, I would guess, to amuse our debauched governor forever." "I didn't double the Cape for his amusement. Or yours." What's the matter? Everybody talks in riddles. "Does this room have a library?" "Yes, but the writings are in Persian. Which you don't understand." "How do you know what I understand?" She looked at him with open astonishment. "Do you suppose there's anyone in the palace who doesn't already know all about you?" "And what do you know about me?" Silence held the room for a moment. Then she spoke. "I know you're a _feringhi_. Like the Portuguese. Here for gold. And . . . the rest." She turned and walked back into the darkness. There was a spark of light and the lamp glowed again. "As for this room, there's nothing here you would understand. And when you return to the palace, and to His Excellency's _affion _and his _nautch _girls, remember what happens to a man who is discovered with another's wife. I will forget I saw you here. You should forget also, if you wish to see the sun tomorrow." Hawksworth found himself watching her spellbound, almost not hearing her words. He stood motionless for a moment, then walked directly toward her, trying not to feel self-conscious in his new Moghul clothes. "I want to talk with you. To find out what's going on. I'll begin with this place. It's an observatory, or was. What harm can there be in looking around this room?" She stared at him without moving. "You certainly have a _feringhi'_s manner. If you won't leave, then I'll ask you some questions. What do you say is your reason for coming to India? It's rumored you're here for the English king." "What else have you heard?" "Other things as well." She moved closer and her perfume enveloped him. Her eyes were intense, almost overwhelming the jewel at her throat. "But I'd like to hear them from you. There's much dismay about you, about the battle, about the letter." Hawksworth studied her wistfully. "You know about the letter?" "Of course. Everyone knows." She sighed at his naivete. "The contents of your chest were examined very carefully last night . . . but no one dared touch the seal on the letter, for fear of the Moghul. Is it true the English king may send an armada to attack Goa?" "And if it were?" "It could make a great deal of difference. To many people here." "Who?" "People who matter."