Akman had believed that the first clothes a Moghul prince wore should be fashioned from an old garment of a Muslim holy man, and he had requested a garment from the revered Sayyid Ali Shjirazi for his first son. The custom had become fixed for the royal family. "It's here. The woman in Surat heard a child was due and had this sent to me in Agra before we left." She pointed to a folded loincloth, which had been washed to a perfect white. "It was once worn by that Sufi you adore, Samad." "Good. I'm glad it's from Samad. But what woman in Surat do you mean?" "You know who she is." Mumtaz looked around the crowded room, and switched from Turki to Persian. "She sent the weekly reports of Mukarrab Khan's affairs, and handled all the payments to those who collected information in Surat." Jadar nodded almost imperceptibly. "That one. Of course I remember her. Her reports were always more reliable than the Shahbandar's. I find I can never trust any number that thief gives me. I always have to ask myself what he would wish it to be, and then adjust. But what happened to her? I learned a month ago that Mukarrab Khan was being sent to Goa. I think a certain woman of power in Agra finally realized I was learning everything that went on at the port before she was, and thought Mukarrab Khan had betrayed her." "The Surat woman didn't go to Goa with Mukarrab Khan. She made him divorce her. It was a scandal." Mumtaz smiled mysteriously. "You should come to the women's quarters more often, and learn the news." "But what happened to her?" "There's a rumor in Surat that the Shahbandar, Mirza Nuruddin, is hiding her in the women's quarters of his estate house. But actually she left for Agra the next day, by the northern road. I'm very worried what may happen to her there." "How do you know all this? It sounds like bazaar gossip." "It's all true enough. She sent a pigeon, to the fortress here. The message was waiting when we arrived." "It's good she's out of Surat. With Mukarrab Khan gone, she's no longer any help there. But I've always wanted to thank her somehow. She's one of the best. And our only woman. I don't think anyone ever guessed what she really did." "I will thank her for you. Her message was a request. Something only I could arrange. A favor for a favor." "And what was that?" "Just something between women, my love. Nothing to do with armies and wars." Mumtaz shifted on the bolster and took a perfumed pan. "Allah, I'm tired." Jadar studied her face again, marveling as always how it seemed to attest to her spirit. "Then rest. I hope the cannon won't disturb you." "It should have been another girl. Then there'd be no cannon." "And no heir." Jadar turned to leave and Mumtaz eased herself back on the bolster. Then she lifted herself again and called Jadar. "Who is escorting the English _feringhi_ to Agra?" "Unfortunately it's Vasant Rao. And just when I need him. But he demanded to do it personally."