1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 13
“A woman of your position needs to have better control over her tongue. Can I rely on you henceforth?”
Atisheh bowed her head. “Your will, Begum Sahib.”
“Even when I am not present?” Jahanara pressed.
“Even so, Begum Sahib. I am your servant. I will not forget again.”
“If I am understood, you may open the door and let our hosts in.”
“Your will, Begum Sahib.”
“On with it, then.”
Atisheh opened the door and gestured.
Monique and Priscilla entered the room, the latter glancing warily from her patient to Jahanara.
“Forgive me for giving commands in your home, ladies,” Jahanara said. “I want to make sure that Atisheh appreciates the care with which she is being treated. I have need of her once she is fully recovered, and if she has annoyed her physicians to the point where they cannot help her to that full recovery, then she will be of no use to me or my brother.”
Atisheh’s eyes narrowed, noticing her princess’s emphasis on the word fully.
“Because I have asked Dara to confer upon you the title of Commander of Urdubegis, not just my personal guard.”
The big warrior’s expression rapidly cycled through suspicion to shock to joy before settling back to suspicion.
Stifling a laugh, Jahanara continued. “As part of fulfilling those duties is the testing of each applicant. I cannot see how you would prevail against the best candidates if you had to guard not only against their attacks, but against reopening your wounds.”
“I’m afraid I must admit to some weakness. Perhaps Dara would be better served by one of my sisters?”
Jahanara shook her head vehemently. “There is no question who will best serve in this role. Dara would not have it otherwise. Nor would I. Nor any other who was there in the garden of the Taj Mahal.”
Atisheh bowed her head.
Jahanara slowly realized that she had been too harsh for too long, and reached out to take the other woman’s hand.
Atisheh, uncomfortable with such intimacy from the princess, went still.
“You are the best woman for this job, and I would have no other responsible for the protection of our family. Please, as you hold your oath to me sacred, heed the advice of your physicians and take care with your recovery so that it is complete and total. We will have need of your strong sword and discerning eye soon, but not so soon that you do not have time to make a full recovery.”
Atisheh would not meet her eyes, but nodded.
And because the warrior might need to hear it, Jahanara edged her voice with the tones of command she had so often heard Father use: “I would have your word on it, Atisheh. Promise me you shall do as I command.”
The warrior woman stood straight, met her eyes, and said, “Your will, Begum Sahib.”
“Yes. My will.” Jahanara released Atisheh, patting the broad, scarred knuckles of Atisheh’s sword hand with her own finely manicured and hennaed one.
“Besides, I shall expect a full report of what goes on here in Mission House.” She gestured at the comfortable chamber that Atisheh had been convalescing in. “Even their architecture is strange, though I do like the mosaic floor in the entryway. And the central garden is not entirely without charm.”
“As to their architecture or how they choose to decorate, I cannot speak intelligently. And, to be frank, their skill at arms—for hand to hand—is pathetic. Their firearms do seem to level the battlefield at any greater distance than melee, however.”
“Let us hope that is true. Dara has already commissioned Talawat to furnish a great number of arms patterned after one of the weapons they brought from the future.”
Atisheh’s expression darkened momentarily at mention of the copies.
“What is it?”
“Your pardon, Begum Sahib, but the use of any weapon requires training. The more complex the weapon or skill, the more training is necessary to become proficient. It is harder to use a bow from horseback than while standing still. I cannot imagine that we have time both for the weapons to be made and the training of those who will wield them.”
Jahanara smiled. “And this is why we need you fully healed and back in our service. You, my dear Atisheh, think a great deal more than any man will give you credit for.”
Atisheh bowed her head, but Jahanara could see the remark had pleased her.
“If it is just my mind you wish returned to service, I can do it now,” Atisheh said slyly.
“Look at you!” Jahanara said, laughing. “Outmaneuvering me in conversation!” She could laugh because she knew Atisheh’s honor would not allow her to play such games, not after giving her word on it.
Atisheh gave a small, shy smile. “In truth, Begum Sahib, I have missed your laugh these last weeks. Even as I have missed all those under my protection in the harem. I am eager to return and thank you for visiting me.”
Recognizing dismissal when she heard it, Jahanara smiled once more and turned to leave. She caught the barest hint of an approving glance from Priscilla before that woman bowed and turned to follow Jahanara from the room.
Jahanara paused in the narrow hall outside Atisheh’s bedchamber. It was very crowded and growing quite warm.
Smidha gestured, indicating which direction they should go. The princess and her entourage descended a set of stairs into a large chamber with high ceilings that opened onto the central courtyard through tall wooden doors. A large, tall table laden with fruit and drink dominated the center of the room. Jahanara approached it, trying to give her followers room to spread out before turning to face Priscilla.
“I must thank you, Priscilla, for all