"Of course. Everyone knows." She sighed at his naivete. "The contents
of your chest were examined very carefully last night . . . but no one
dared touch the seal on the letter, for fear of the Moghul. Is it true
the English king may send an armada to attack Goa?"
"And if it were?"
"It could make a great deal of difference. To many people here."
"Who?"
"People who matter."
"The only one who should matter is the Moghul."
She laughed again. "He's the very last one who matters. I see you
comprehend very little." She paused and examined him closely. "But
you're an interesting man. We all listened to you play the English
sitar last night. And today the first place you chose to come was here.
You're the first _feringhi_ ever to seek out this place, which was once
famous throughout India. Did you truly come here this morning just to
learn?"
"I haven't learned very much so far. At least in this room."
He looked about them, noticing for the first time a small table on
which there was a book and fresh writings. "You've not told what you're
doing here. Or why you can come here when the servants are forbidden."
"Servants once tried to steal some of the marble steps for a
house. But the reason I come here is not really your concern, Captain
Hawksworth. . . ." She caught his startled look and laughed. "Of course
I know your name. I also know you should learn not to drink _bhang_
with Kali. She's more than your equal."
Hawksworth stifled his embarrassment and tried to ignore the barb.
"There surely must be charts here. What harm if I merely look around?"