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Chronicle of Mughal India
    A TALL EUNUCH WITH A wilting moustache met Mehrunnisa and Asmat at the entrance to Empress Ruqayya’s palace. He put a hand out to Asmat.
    “Only the child,” he said. Then, seeing the sudden spurt of apprehension in Asmat’s eyes, he relented a little and added, “She will be sent home safely, but only the child must enter.”
    Asmat nodded. It would have been futile to argue in any case. She leaned over to whisper, “Be good, beta. You will be all right, don’t worry.” Then she was gone. Mehrunnisa watched her mother leave, wanting to beg her to stay. How could she leave her alone here with the funny-looking man?
    When she turned around, she found the eunuch scrutinizing her.
    “So you are the child she likes,” he said, his voice a growl. He stepped back to allow her to enter into a dark antechamber. Beyond in the courtyard a rectangle of sunshine slanted through. The eunuch stopped Mehrunnisa’s progress with a hand. “Turn around.”
    Mehrunnisa turned slowly, feeling the unnatural weight of her embroidered ghagara swirl around her. The blouse was loose; it hung about her shoulders even though it was laced tightly at the back. At home she wore thin muslin ghagaras and salwars. For the Empress, Asmat had dressed her in her best outfit, even though it was only amorning visit and not even a day of festival. The eunuch put a finger to her nape and turned her around until she stood facing him.
    He pulled Mehrunnisa’s plait over her shoulder, checking its length against her hip, and touched her cheeks. Then he pinched her skin and peered at her teeth. Mehrunnisa pulled back, her face flushing, as his head loomed in front of her. What was she—a horse for sale?
    The eunuch laughed, showing paan -stained red teeth. “So thin, so scrawny.” He poked her in the ribs. “Look at the bones sticking out here. What, don’t your parents feed you? Was that woman your mother? Now, she is pretty. But you—even your teeth have a hole in them. I wonder what she sees in you. She will tire of you soon. Come,” he said, pulling her by the arm, his nails digging into Mehrunnisa’s flesh. “Now remember not to repeat what I just said. Perhaps this should be your first lesson, girl. Never talk of what you hear in the zenana.”
    Still laughing, he half-dragged, half-pulled Mehrunnisa down the corridor to the bathhouse. Slave girls bowed to the man as they passed. Her heart thumping, Mehrunnisa saw this and didn’t pull away from him. Maji was not here; she was all alone with this strange, pasty-faced, limp-moustached creature. Who was he? And why did he have so much power here, in this harem of women?
    The Empress was preparing for her bath when Mehrunnisa entered the hammam. By this time a thin film of sweat had coated her forehead and dampened her armpits. If this man was so strange, how would the Empress be? She had been even more frightening the other day. The eunuch let go of Mehrunnisa’s arm and bowed deeply to Ruqayya.
    “The child is here, your Majesty.” Then, not waiting for Ruqayya’s reply, he slid backwards out of the room.
    Mehrunnisa was alone. She stood still, blinking in the sunlight that pooled around her from an overhead skylight, throwing lattice patternson the ground. A tinkle of gold bangles made her look to one corner of the room. The Empress sat on a stool as sleekly muscled slave girls, their skins colored with the brown hues of the earth, took off her jewels. A eunuch stood nearby, holding a silver tray on which the jewels were laid. In the center of the room was an octagonal pool carved into the floor. A wooden bench ran along the inside of the pool.
    “Come here, child.”
    At the sound of the Empress’s voice, Mehrunnisa moved to the corner of the room where Ruqayya was seated, wearing a peacock-blue silk robe ablaze in gold zari. Her arm still hurt from where the eunuch’s fingers had pinched, but she suddenly wanted even his presence. She didn’t want to be