1637: The Peacock Throne, стр. 40
The cipher cracked, she had to focus all her considerable mind on reassembling the message for a few minutes.
The corners of her mouth turned down as she finished and read the message through once more. The content was both timely to the subject of her thoughts and exceedingly frustrating: Nadira had, through clever manipulation of the court, put an end to the whisper campaign Nur had launched against Jahanara only a month past.
While the whispers had not cost her significant time or effort to begin, it was a gambit she’d used to great success in the past when attempting to draw the fangs of rivals, both within the harem and in the wider court. Such attacks were also not repeatable, at least for the foreseeable future. Those who had been most vocal in their complaining would not be as readily listened to should they essay some new complaint against Jahanara. Worse yet, those who might have been encouraged to raise their voices from other quarters would be discouraged by observing how Nadira had rallied to Jahanara’s side to quash the whispers. Perhaps if she were there, things would be different. Most harem politics was reducible to a game of credibility and character, with the emperor’s children and the emperor’s time and affection among the critical pieces in play at all times, in all seasons.
Nur hoped the one piece she’d moved that had yet to report might still have success, but there was no telling when that play would bear fruit, let alone what that fruit would be.
She shook her head, acknowledging she was, perhaps, too distant from Dara’s court to directly influence the full gamut of court play. It put her in mind of the years she had spent in quasi-exile after her defeat at Shah Jahan’s hands.
After a moment spent in self-pity, she put her frustrations away and turned her attention to Shuja’s court. Events here were more than enough to keep her mind active, thoughts focused, and her thirst for power whetted to a keen edge.
Yes. Nur would let Aurangzeb direct her to any active subterfuge in Dara’s court and otherwise simply continue to monitor her sources for usable intelligence. It was time to focus on the work nearer to hand. Already she had planned two marriage bids for Shah Shuja. Now she must find a way to present them, first to Aurangzeb so that he could let her know if either choice would prove a detriment to his plans, and then to Shuja. It would be a delicate process, but one she’d managed before.
It would help if Aurangzeb did not keep his plans so close. The young man had a knack for political maneuvering, but in consequence he did not share his plans easily or often.
Perhaps she should not be thinking in terms of what he planned, but when he would execute them. She knew, with a certainty normally reserved for the sun rising in the east, that the end goal of all his maneuvering and plots was to rule as emperor.
Yes. That was it. She could spend time and effort trying to learn what he planned and get nowhere…Or, she could, instead, set herself to preparing for the moment of Aurangzeb’s next move.
Yes.
She would make herself indispensable to his cause by being ready to assist him in that moment, whatever his needs might be.
Chapter 14
Agra
Red Fort, the harem
Heart hammering in her chest, Jahanara nodded at Atisheh as she approached the warrior’s post.
The freshly appointed commander of the warrior women assigned to guard Dara’s harem made a silent half-bow in return.
Sudden trepidation made Jahanara slow just steps before Atisheh. Even now, she could return to her quarters, call off this folly and act as if she’d had nothing to do with bringing a man into the harem precincts.
She stood on the balls of her feet, ready to turn and flee.
“You only wish to meet the amir because of the fire of your desire, Shehzadi. Please do not do this thing,” Smidha had cautioned, only that afternoon. “It is dangerous, and gains you nothing you do not already have.”
Jahanara had simply ignored her servant’s cautionary whisper, as arguing the point could provide listeners with proof she entertained the idea. Keeping secrets from everyone who did not have an absolute need to know seemed to have become the one constant of her existence.
The argument she would have given, had circumstances allowed, was primarily that her brother needed his closest advisors to know each other’s minds. The daily requirements of court life prevented any real chance of that understanding between the amir and her, especially as their public conduct was the subject of constant scrutiny from all quarters.
Written missives were equally problematic, as they could too easily fall into the wrong hands, and all potential messengers were watched at one time or another.
She straightened. No, this had to be done. At least this once, she had to meet him face-to-face. To thank him for his service, if they could not reach some greater understanding.
Silencing the uneasy thought that Smidha’s assessment of Jahanara’s true motives for the meeting could be more accurate than her own, Jahanara squared her shoulders and strode forward on slippered feet.
Atisheh pulled aside the hanging and pressed a particular part of the wall. The section of wall opened, revealing a secret passage from which the smells of sweet tobacco smoke drifted out to enfold her.
Glad the scents of desperation and death that had permeated the chamber beyond when Mullah Mohan was tortured to his end had been cleansed, Jahanara entered the passage.
* * *
Salim puffed at the water pipe, uneasiness stirring in his belly as he waited for the messenger he had been told was coming.
The secrecy he’d been ordered to maintain seemed…extreme.
For one, he did not like the location. Oh, the chamber itself was fine: small but hung with silks, plump cushions,