Part 30 (1/2)

Safiya Sultana turned to the young girl who had come to Mariana's room. ”Zareen, go and bring me the oldest burqa burqa you can find. Ah, here is Bina with the fruit,” she added in a warning tone, as the elderly maidservant shuffied through the door bearing a tray of oranges and guavas. you can find. Ah, here is Bina with the fruit,” she added in a warning tone, as the elderly maidservant shuffied through the door bearing a tray of oranges and guavas.

All murmuring stopped. ”Spies,” hissed someone, under her breath.

Taking a guava and a sharp knife from the tray, Safiya Sultana cut out a wedge of rosy fiesh with practiced hands, dipped it into a little heap of salt on the tray, and handed it elaborately to the elderly lady beside her. ”Eat this, Ammi-jan,” she shouted into the old woman's ear.

The old lady took the fruit with a palsied hand, put it obediently into her mouth.

Safiya Sultana's face betrayed no anxiety. Mariana edged toward her on the fioor, hoping to absorb some of her calm.

”Leave the tray with us, Bina,” Safiya told the maidservant, ”and call Allahyar. Tell him to come up here at once. He is to stand outside the door for my instructions. Go, and close the door curtain on your way out.”

She leaned over to Mariana. ”Look at these women before you,” she said quietly in her man's voice. ”They are my family. Some are wise, some unwise, but all are good-hearted in their own way.” She put a hand on Mariana's knee. ”Together, we are about to undertake a journey as far from our own experience as the ocean voyage that brought you here. Some of our ladies will not believe that you can succeed in the escape I have in mind. Others will see the sense in it and will have confidence. In any event, our prayers and our hearts will be with you.”

Mariana swallowed, trying not to think of the danger.

”I most certainly hope,” Safiya Sultana added more loudly, frowning around the crowded room, ”that none of you breathes a word of what we are about to do. Children, stand up.”

Mariana watched a dozen children straighten reluctantly and stand in a solemn brown-skinned row.

Safiya Sultana regarded them sternly. ”You must all leave the room now,” she said. ”Secrets can be difficult to keep. If you are not here, none of you can, by chance, betray your little brother.”

Betray. Mariana s.h.i.+vered. Beside her, Safiya Sultana gave off a stout calm.

The whispering children rustled out, the larger ones carrying the smaller, leaving only Saboor. The ladies waited, moving only their eyes until a deep cough heard through the curtain revealed the presence of a man.

Safiya Sultana signaled for attention. The ladies leaned forward to listen over the patter of the rain.

”Who is there?” Safiya called out.

”It is I, Allahyar, Begum Sahib,” replied a male voice.

”He is Lala-Ji's personal servant,” one girl Mariana's age whispered to her.

”Allahyar,” ordered Safiya Sultana, ”you are to go to your uncle the storeroom keeper and get from him a small ball of opium.”

Mariana blinked. Opium?

A slurred response came from behind the curtain.

”There is no use,” Safiya Sultana said firmly over the drumming of the rain, ”in trying to tell me that your uncle does not take opium. He has done so for thirty years.”

The ladies smiled.

”Ji, Begum Sahib,” said the male voice, after a pause.

”You will bring the opium here,” Safiya Sultana went on, ”and you will also bring a basket from the storeroom, the largest basket we have. You will then wait outside until a lady comes from this room and joins you. You will tell no one of these instructions. Do you understand me?”

”Ji, Sahib.”

”Go, then.”

Safiya Sultana studied Mariana as if she were seeking something. ”My daughter,” she said, her deep voice softening, ”here is what you will do.”

Mariana nodded. Unlike the malicious queens at the Citadel, Safiya had had treated her like a daughter. Overcome with grat.i.tude, Mariana felt a sudden urge to bury her head in Safiya Sultana's well-padded shoulder. treated her like a daughter. Overcome with grat.i.tude, Mariana felt a sudden urge to bury her head in Safiya Sultana's well-padded shoulder.

”I have sent for an old burqa,” the Shaikh's sister added a little gruffiy, ”the long veil that our Punjabi women wear out of doors. We shall put it over you, to conceal your face and hair, and your clothes.

”Wearing the burqa, you will go downstairs. After pa.s.sing through the kitchens, you will leave this house by the rear door. Allahyar, my brother's personal servant, will accompany you. He will walk a few paces in front of you. You will,” she paused, her eyes moving from face to face, daring anyone to object, ”be posing as Allahyar's wife.”

”But what of Saboor?” Mariana heard herself ask.

”The Maharajah's men may be watching the rear door,” Safiya Sultana warned. ”Saboor, therefore, will not be with you as you pa.s.s out of the house. He will instead be lowered from that window.”

She pointed across a tiled veranda to a window that gave onto the street below. ”In a basket.”

The women all tried to speak at once. Safiya Sultana held up a commanding palm.

”Do we not,” she asked the room in general, ”lower a basket to Vikram Anand, the sweetmeat seller below, when we wish to entertain ourselves with his jalebees jalebees, his luddoos luddoos, and his gulab jamons gulab jamons? And has not that same sweetmeat shop stood below our window for the past three generations?”

A thin lady near Mariana smiled as the room subsided. ”Of course, Vikram's best customer is Safiya herself,” she whispered.

”I have confidence that Vikram will help us,” Safiya told Mariana. ”He is known in the city for his charity and his level head.”

Mariana stared at the rain outside the window where Safiya had pointed. How did Safiya Sultana know what people in the city said about a sweetmeat seller?

Safiya nodded. ”Allahyar will take Saboor from the basket. You will follow him as he carries the child toward the Delhi Gate. You will then follow him through the gate and onto the road. There, you will be overtaken by one of our own palanquins.”

The gap-toothed aunt lifted her hands. ”Where is she to go?” Safiya Sultana frowned.

”She should go to Kasur, to Ha.s.san, of course,” contributed another woman. ”He is her husband. Where else should she go?”

A wave of a.s.sent spread through the crowd.

”But Shalimar is right here.” Her heart thumping, Mariana shook her head. ”Kasur is miles and miles away. Surely I must must take Saboor to the British camp.” take Saboor to the British camp.”

Instead of answering, Safiya Sultana signaled to the shy girl. ”Aalia, bring me a pen and ink, and some paper.”

Turning to Mariana, she smiled grimly. ”The world is a strange place, Mariam, and the will of Allah Most Gracious is not for us to know. Wherever else you may wish to travel, this time you will journey, G.o.d willing, to Ha.s.san's camp at Kasur.”

Mariam. The solicitor at the Citadel had called her Mariam. Mariana started to give the correct p.r.o.nunciation of her name, but saw that Safiya Sultana was now busy writing letters.

The burqa arrived. Zareen gathered up the yards of cotton cloth that made up the burqa, and fitted its embroidered cap carefully over Mariana's head.

The dusty folds fell to her feet, causing her such a fit of sneezing that she did not hear what was being said through the curtain. Sniffing, she looked through the grill of cotton cutwork before her face, and saw that it offered a narrow, impaired field of vision. So this was what the women were able to see when they were out of doors. Could they see enough to avoid accidents? There was no side vision whatever. She moved her head experimentally to and fro, and saw the ladies nod their approval.

”Now,” someone said, ”no one will know she is foreign.”