"And now, Inglish, I will bestow on you the highest favor of my court." He turned and signaled another eunuch to come forward. The eunuch carried a cloak woven with gold. "This cloak I have myself worn, then kept aside to bestow on a worthy disciple. It is for you." Arangbar took the cloak himself and laid it over Hawksworth's shoulders. "I thank Your Majesty. The honor is more than I could ever merit." "That may well be true, Inglish." Arangbar roared. "But it's yours. You speak my tongue and you drink almost as well. Few men here today can equal you. And you have the wits of ten Portuguese. I think you deserve to be one of my _khans_." Arangbar signaled for him to rise. "Your salary will begin with the next lunar month. After that you will be known in this court as the Inglish Khan. Day after tomorrow you will ride with us in _shikar_, the royal hunt. You may soon decide you like India better than England. Have you ever seen a tiger?" "Never, Your Majesty." "You will soon enough. Day after tomorrow. So you had best do your drinking now, for tigers require a clear head." Arangbar laughed again and clapped and the tension in the courtyard semed to evaporate. The singer immediately began a second raga. As Hawksworth fingered the earring, the medal, and the cloak, he found himself remembering Huyghen's burning eyes that day in the London alehouse. "You'll forget who you are," the old seaman had said. Could this be what he meant? But maybe it's not so bad after all, he told himself. It's like a dream come true. And when the fleet makes landfall. . . . . . . "Of course I've heard. It was my idea. Although His Majesty naturally assumes he thought of it all by himself. Making the _feringhi _a _khan _will confuse the Portuguese. And it will take everyone's mind off the _firman _for a while." Queen Janahara had received Nadir Sharif immediately after Arangbar retired to the _zenana_ for his afternoon dalliance. The balcony of the Jasmine Tower was empty, the servants all ordered back to the _zenana_. I'm more interested in the English fleet. Do you know what has happened?" "What do you mean, Majesty?" Nadir Sharif noted that he had not been invited to sit. "There was another message today, a private message from His Excellency, Miguel Vaijantes." Janahara raised a silver, hourglass- shaped cuspidor to her lips and delicately discharged red betel juice. "Can you guess what he has dared to do?" "What do you mean?" "Miguel Vaijantes is a man without courage. The understanding was very clear." "The understanding, Your Majesty?" "We have kept our side of the agreement. There has been no _firman _for the English _feringhi_. But now His Excellency has declared that he must off-load the arms. He has begun assembling an armada to sail north and intercept the English." "The arms, Your Majesty?" Nadir Sharif moved closer. "Miguel Vaijantes was shipping arms?"