1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 33

“We think Monique has uncovered a spy.”

“Oh?” Gervais asked, collecting a cup for himself.

Monique waited until her father had settled among the cushions across from her and Bertram before speaking. “Jahanara was right to ask us to watch the harem. I think I’ve identified—”

“Think? Your daughter gives herself too little credit,” Bertram said with an affectionate smile at Monique.

Monique tossed her dark curls. “I want to talk it out before I bring it to Jahanara’s attention. I was not trained to this as you were, my handsome spymaster.”

“Well, uh…” Bertram said, flushing pink as an idiot’s grin spread across his face.

Gervais, choosing to ignore the byplay, waved away her concern. “Who do you suspect, then?”

“Mahroz, wife of Orang Khan.”

“A Persian couple?” Gervais asked.

“Yes, though as far as we can tell, not related to the royals.”

“Do you think they report to Nur even so?”

“A natural conclusion to draw, but without confirmation at the other end it’s impossible to say with certainty.”

“Certainty isn’t a thing we trade in, daughter.”

“No, I suppose not. Still, I am certain she is passing messages out of the harem.”

“And not just sending love notes to her husband?”

“Not her husband, no,” Bertram answered. “He’s been home all week and I’ve set watchers on the family manor.”

Gervais looked a question at them both.

“We compared notes last week and then again before you came in,” Monique said, divining the question an instant before Bertram.

“And here I thought I was only giving you time to steal a few kisses.”

“Well, that too, Papa!” Monique said, grinning impishly.

Bertram flushed again, cleared his throat, and changed the subject. “The messengers rode south while their mansion is to the north and on the other side of the river from the Red Fort.”

“Some other paramour? Parents?”

“Doubtful in the first instance, and deceased in the second,” Monique answered, instantly.

“For both of them?”

Bertram looked thoughtful, but it was Monique who answered, with less certainty this time. “Her parents are dead. Not so sure about his.”

Gervais shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter…though it would be nice to know who, exactly, is receiving the intelligence. Perhaps Dara can get us verification from one of the camps?”

“Possibly. I will ask Jahanara.”

“Any idea what intelligence was passed?”

“Two items make sense: The first rumors regarding completion of the munitions factory circulated at about the same time as the first messenger departed. The second messenger left the same day as Bidhi Chand and the Sikh army arrived.”

“But why report that second bit? The arrival of the Sikhs has to be general knowledge.”

“That’s what I asked him,” Monique said, looking at Bertram for an answer with a twinkle in her eye.

He cleared his throat, having been distracted at the time by her warm lips and nimble fingers. “Informants often feel they must report everything in order to be seen as reliable, especially ones seeking to ingratiate themselves with whomever they are spying for. And they have a point, to a certain extent. Just because a thing is common knowledge in one place does not mean that it will be reported in another…” He thought a moment and continued, “In this case, though, I think the former situation applies: Mahroz and/or Orang both wish to ingratiate themselves with someone, and seek to be first with the news.”

“So probably not accomplished spies.”

“Almost certainly not,” Bertram agreed. “Which is why it would be useful to track their movements. We might identify the center of the ring if we can watch them long enough. Even professionals slip up, eventually.”

Gervais considered a moment before asking, “Just what do you think Dara will do with this information?”

“He’ll probably take them prisoner, remove their rank, and generally make them miserable,” Bertram said.

“And Jahanara, what would she do?” Gervais looked at his daughter this time.

“Jahanara will likely set her own people, or give us free rein to continue watching the couple in hopes they would lead us to roll up the rest of the ring.”

“Then I suppose it makes sense that we tell Jahanara and let her decide whether and when to inform her brother.”

Monique rolled her eyes and said, exasperated, “That was exactly my idea, Papa!”

“Why so vehement?” he asked, brows rising.

“I would like to think that you, at least, believe I know what I’m doing when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“Did I show you differently?” he asked, looking to Bertram for support.

“Of course you did, by not asking me what I planned in the first place!” she snapped.

Bertram, aware that the lovely young woman he wanted desperately to please might not look favorably upon any support he showed for Gervais, kept his mouth shut. Gervais and Monique did this sometimes, arguing over what seemed to outsiders to be trifles. They rarely differed on matters of importance, and to be honest, Bertram found the pair were far closer than he’d been with either his mother or his father since becoming an adult, so who was he to judge?

Red Fort, Harem

“Do we know how large the network is?” Jahanara asked. Placing her carved jade chaturanga piece with care. She had lost three straight matches to the older woman. What had started as a way to engage in private conversation had become something of a grudge match.

“Three in the palace proper. Two more in the manors of nobles of the inner court…Damn these hot flashes,” Smidha said. They were on a balcony, but the fitful breeze coming off the dry-season Yamuna had little impact on the older woman’s temperature.

Jahanara gathered some ice from the bowl that chilled their drinks and, after a raised brow elicited a nod from Smidha, pressed it to the hollow of her servant’s neck.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, thank you, Begum Sahib.” Smidha sighed, and then indulged in a moment of calm consideration of the board before making her move. “There are two in the harem, another among the umara of the court. The ring is rather large, but in identifying the ringleader, we think we know most