"This evening must be a time of farewell for us both, Captain Hawksworth. You know, the Hindus believe life and death are an endless cycle that dooms them to repeat their miserable existence over and over again. I myself prefer to think that this one life is itself cyclical, ever renewing. What was new, exciting, yesterday is today tedious and tiresome. So tomorrow brings us both rebirth. For you it is Agra, for me Goa. But I expect to see Surat again, as no doubt do you. Who knows when our paths will cross once more?" Mukarrab Khan watched as a eunuch shoved wide the door leading onto the torchlit garden. "You have been a most gracious visitor, tolerating with exemplary forbearance my unworthy hospitality. Tonight perhaps you will endure one last evening of my company, even if I have little else left to offer." The courtyard was a confused jumble of packing cases and household goods. Servants were everywhere, wrapping and crating rolled carpets, bolsters, furniture, vases, and women's clothing. Elephants stood near the back of the courtyard, howdahs on their backs, waiting to be loaded. Goods would be transferred to barks for the trip downriver to the bar, where they would be loaded aboard a waiting Portuguese frigate. "My dining hall has been dismantled, its carpet rolled. We have no choice but to dine this evening in the open air, like soldiers on the march." Hawksworth was no longer hearing Mukarrab Khan. He was staring past him, through the smoke, not quite believing what he saw. But it was all too real. Standing in the corner of the courtyard were two Europeans in black cassocks. Portuguese Jesuits. Mukarrab Khan noticed Hawksworth's diplomatic smile suddenly freeze on his face, and turned to follow his gaze. "Ah, I must introduce you. You do understand the Portuguese language, Captain?" "Enough." "I should have thought so. I personally find it abominable and refuse to study it. But both the fathers here have studied Persian in Goa, and I think one of them knows a bit of Turki, from his time in Agra." "What are they doing here?" Hawksworth tried to maintain his composure. "They returned to Surat just today from Goa, where they've been these past few weeks. I understand they're en route to the Jesuit mission in Lahore, a city in the Punjab, well to the north of Agra. They specifically asked to meet you." He laughed. "They're carrying no cannon, Captain, and I assumed you had no objection." "You assumed wrong. I have nothing to say to a Jesuit." "You'll meet Jesuits enough in Agra, Captain, at the Moghul's court. Consider this evening a foretaste." Mukarrab Khan tried to smile politely, but there was a strained look in his eyes and he fingered his jeweled ring uncomfortably. "You would favor me by speaking to them."