The eunuchs examined Hawksworth's ragged appearance with transparent contempt, and they seemed to melt around him as he walked through the doorway--two ahead, two behind, and one on either side. None spoke a greeting. Hawksworth examined them carefully, wondering which was in charge of the women's apartments. That's the most powerful position, he smiled to himself, nothing else really counts. A servant came down the veranda bearing a tray and brought it directly to the governor. Then he kneeled and offered it. It was of beaten silver and on it were two large crystal goblets of a pastel green liquid. "Captain, would you care to refresh yourself with a glass of _tundhi_. It's the traditional way we break the fast of Ramadan." He directed the servant toward Hawksworth. "It's prepared in the women's apartments during the day, as an excuse for something to do." Hawksworth touched the drink lightly with his tongue. It was a mixture of sweet and tang quite unlike anything he had ever known. Perhaps the closest was a brisk mug of spiced ale, pungent with clove and cinnamon. But this spiced drink was mysteriously subtle. Puzzling, he turned to Mukarrab Khan. "What is this? It tastes like the air in a garden." "This? I've never paid any notice, although the women down it by the basinful after sunset." As he received his own goblet he turned to one of the eunuchs. "Nahir, how do the women prepare _tundhi_?" "With seeds, Khan Sahib. Seeds of melons, cucumber, lettuce, and coriander are pounded, and then blended with rosewater, pomegranate essence, and juice of the aloe flower. But the secret is to strain it properly, and I find I must carefully oversee the work." "Doubtless." Mukarrab Khan's voice was curt. "I suspect you should attend the accounts more and the women's apartments less." He turned to another eunuch. "Is my bath ready?" "As always, Khan Sahib." As the eunuch bowed he examined Hawksworth's dust-covered face and hair discreetly. "Will the distinguished _feringhi _also require a bath?" "He was on the _chaugan _field this afternoon, just as I was." Hawksworth groaned inwardly. What English host would have the effrontery to suggest a guest needed a bath? For that matter, what Englishman would even consider bathing more than twice a year? It's known well enough King James never bathes, that he never even washes his hands, only brushes them with a moist napkin at mealtime. Yet this Moor wants a full bath before a meal, merely to remove a bit of dust. "I would be content to rinse my hands." Mukarrab Khan examined him for a moment and then broke into a wide smile. "I always forget _feringhi _are positively afraid of water." He spoke quickly to one of the eunuchs, who turned and barked orders to the servants in a language Hawksworth did not understand.