"Spoken like a Moghul." Then he sobered. "You'd be wise never to say that to a Rajput, however. I often wonder how an army of Moghul troops would fare against a division of Hindu unbelievers. I pray to Allah I never find out." Jadar suddenly slipped a dagger from his waist and held it loosely, fingering the blade. "_Feringhi_ Christians would be another matter entirely, however. Did you come unarmed, Captain, as we agreed?" "I did." Hawksworth stared at the knife in dismay. "Come, Captain, please don't ask me to believe you'd be such a fool." Jadar slipped the dagger into his other hand with a quick twist and tossed it atop one of the bundles. "But this meeting must be held in trust. I ask that you leave your weapon beside mine." Hawksworth hesitated, then slowly reached into his boot and withdrew a small stiletto, the Portuguese knife left at the observatory. As he dropped it beside Jadar's weapon, he noticed the prince's knife was missing half its handle. Jadar smiled. "You know, Captain, if I killed you here, now, there would be no witness to the deed, save your Christian God." "Do you plan to try?" "I do not 'try' to do anything, Captain." Jadar opened his hand to reveal that a dagger remained. It was the other side of his original knife, which had been two blades fitted to appear as one. "What I do, Captain, is merely a matter of what I decide to do. Right now I have serious misgivings about your intentions in India." Jadar's blade glinted in the lamplight as he moved toward Hawksworth. "Is this your greeting for any who refuse to salaam?" Hawksworth took a step backward toward the door, feinted toward his boot, and rose with a cocked pistol leveled directly at Jadar. "What game is this?" The prince exploded with laughter, and before Hawksworth caught the quick motion of his arm, the knife thudded deeply into the wooden door behind him. "Well done, Captain. Very well done." Jadar beamed in appreciation. "You are, as I suspected, truly without the smallest shred of Rajput honor. Put away your pistol. I think we can talk. And by the way, there are twenty matchlocks trained on you right now." He waved toward the vaulted ceiling of the crypt, where dark musket barrels were visible through slits in the carved decoration. He barked a command in Urdu and the barrels slowly withdrew. "Why don't we talk about releasing me and my chest to travel on to Agra." Hawksworth lowered the pistol, but kept it still cocked, in his hand. "Agra, you say? Captain, there are already Europeans in Agra." Jadar leaned against one of the bundles. "Portuguese. They've been there many years. How many more Christians can India endure? You infidel Europeans are beginning to annoy me more than I can tell you." "What do you mean?" Hawksworth tried to read Jadar's eyes, remembering Shirin's story of the Persians and Portuguese both hating the prince.