Equal of the Sun (24 page)

“It will, but my chief desire is to bring her to the capital. I still don’t have the funds necessary to care for her here or to provide her with a generous dowry.”

“May God rain silver on your head!”

The memory of Jalileh’s long lashes, made starry by tears the last time I saw her, pierced my heart. “I don’t even know her anymore. All these years, I have not been able to visit her.”

“How could you, when you have been sending all your extra money for her upkeep? I am certain you are the light of her eyes.”

“I hope so.”

Khadijeh noticed Nasreen Khatoon looking at us. “I think you had better take your leave.”

“May I come again?”

“Yes. Be sure to come accompanied by court business,” she replied, and called her ladies to rejoin her.

“Nasreen Khatoon, prepare a robe with some tunics and trousers for charity,” she commanded. “You will deliver them to Javaher Agha when they are ready.”

For Nasreen’s ears, I said formally, “The princess will be pleased to know that you have pledged clothing to a woman who has lost her home. I will report to you how Rudabeh fares.”

“It is my pleasure,” Khadijeh replied.

With longing, I remembered the sweetness of her thighs under my tongue. The rip in my heart, which had just begun to heal, tore afresh and bled. It could not be helped: In the harem, there was no avoiding a former love and no escaping the relentlessness of desire. Khadijeh, who knew me so well, pretended to be busy with the paludeh so that I could preserve my dignity and take my leave.

Pari was drinking tea when I greeted her with a grim face.

“Javaher, do you bring me ill news?”

“Yes. I have thought carefully about your offer to make me your acting vizier. I am sorry, but I can’t accept.”

Pari looked shocked at my bluntness. No one but a fool would reject such a promotion.

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“What is it, money?”

“No.”

“Are you frightened?”

“No.”

“Well, then?”

I looked around as if I hated for the truth to be squeezed out of me and hesitated until I had her full attention.

“Princess, the game of this court is as intricate as the pattern on the carpet you are sitting on. A vizier and his commander must work together with as much unity as a husband and wife; otherwise they can lose everything.”

“True. And so?”

“The best marriages, in my observation, are based on trust.”

“Javaher, are you proposing to me?” she asked jokingly.

“In a manner of speaking.”

I paused for effect and watched her eyes grow serious.

“Well?”

“My proposal—such as it is—goes further than the usual halfhearted alliances, as when a husband requires his wife to tell him everything while he enjoys living a secret life. Do you know what I mean?”

“Of course. Which of us is the husband?”

“You are.”

She laughed. “That suits me better than the other way around.”

“I know.”

“So I shall wear the turban, spend the silver, and make the decisions.”

“Yes.”

“And what shall you do?”

“I shall provide excellent counsel and prevent you from making mistakes that could kill us both.”

Pari looked uncomfortable. “Such as?”

“I have it on good authority that Isma‘il has intercepted money sent to support soldiers on our northwestern border and is choking with rage.”

“Oh,” she said, and her face went white. She brushed at her kerchief, looking for absent strands of hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Javaher,” she said passionately, “you know as well as I do that there are spies all over the palace. I have to be very careful about whom I trust.”

“I know,” I said. “That is why, in asking for your trust, I offer to lay down my life for you if necessary. But if you can’t trust me, I would rather be in charge of your handkerchiefs than pretend to be your chief strategist.”

I waited, firm in my resolve.

“Is there anything else?”

“Do I have permission to speak honestly?”

“Yes.”

“To win over the Shah, you must cage your feelings.”

“But he does nothing!” she cried, her cheeks blazing. “How can I stand by and watch the ruination of my father’s hard work? How can I let the people who live around Khui rise up in rebellion—I, who know so much better than he what to do!”

“But, Princess, our job must be to persuade the Shah to do what is right.”

“I don’t wish to! I want to rule on my own,” she blurted out, and then looked as if she had accidentally released an angry jinni from a bottle.

At long last, she had admitted it! In my bones I had sensed the ferocity of her ambition. It was like a mountain, looming over everything and impeding all progress. Now we could finally discuss what she craved and what was possible.

“Even your father didn’t allow such liberties,” I replied. “To rule at all, you must have a willing partner. At the moment, you face a shah who has thwarted and punished you.”

Pari jumped up, her dark robe fanning out around her as if it wished to escape her fury. “Are you suggesting I have done something wrong? How dare you?”

I stood my ground. “I am the son of a noble,” I said quietly, “and I trust that I have served you well so far. I respect your royal blood with every drop of my own, but, Princess, if I see you on a path to destruction, I will say so. Never shall I be like a cringing dog that evinces affection only in order to obtain scraps, even if you release me from your service—never! For I would rather tell you the truth at my own expense than betray you with false kindnesses. So I promised your father, and so I shall do always.”

The blood pounded in my temples as I turned my gaze on her.

“You are the one who dips so freely in the ocean of smooth words,” she replied angrily. “What do you suggest?”

“As your vizier, I would do my best to calm the waves,” I said, “but it won’t be possible if you keep taunting the Shah.”

She sat down again, smoothing her robe around her. “I am willing
to keep you better informed of my plans,” she conceded, “but I won’t promise to accede always to your advice.”

I could see from her stormy brow that I had pushed her as far as was possible. “Agreed.”

“Now are you willing to become my acting vizier?”

“It is the greatest honor of my life to accept,” I replied. My heart soared like that of a soldier prepared to die for his commander. “I pledge to always encircle the emerald of your trust with the gold of my loyalty.”

“That is better than any marriage vow I have ever heard!” she said, a hint of flirtation in her tone. “But I presume it is a metaphorical one.”

“Of course.”

“In that case, I accept.”

The princess’s eyes, which looked a little moist, sought mine. I felt as if we had made a pact binding us together forever.

Pari called Azar Khatoon and told her to fetch something. She returned with a package wrapped in silk and presented it to me. Inside I found a dagger in a black leather scabbard. Its fearsome steel blade bore protective words from the Qur’an worked in gold by a master metallist.

“May it keep you from harm,” Pari said, in a voice more tender than she had ever used with me before. Then and there I fastened the scabbard to my sash.

“I will wear it always.”

The next day, we discovered that Isma‘il had quietly married two women. One of them was an Ostajlu, which demonstrated that he had forgiven the whole tribe and welcomed its nobles, except those that he had executed or imprisoned, back into his closest circles. The other was a big surprise: Shamkhal Cherkes’s daughter Koudenet Cherkes, who had been raised away from court.

Pari was furious. She summoned her uncle, and he came after
dark, like a thief. Pari told me to sit in a nook outside one of her private rooms and observe the meeting secretly, so that I could remember his exact words and discern whether he was telling the truth. I suspected she wished to tongue-lash her uncle, but would spare him the humiliation of doing so in front of a servant.

When Shamkhal entered the small room, he consumed so much of its space that his muscular arms and chest seemed to press against the walls.

“Salaam, daughter of my sister!” he said in a booming voice as he lowered himself onto the cushion across from hers. “I am glad to see you looking as bright as the dawn itself. What is the emergency?”

“Is your health better, dear Uncle?” Pari replied sweetly.

“Better?”

“You were sick, remember?”

He paused for a moment. “Ah, of course! I am healthy now.”

“That is good to hear. I assumed I didn’t see you for so long because you were ill. And now I hear that your daughter has become one of the Shah’s new wives! What an honor.”

Shamkhal was watching her closely. “It is.”

“I understand that the Shah has invited you to visit him every day, as well.”

“Who told you that?”

Pari smiled with the certainty of her information.

“In short, the Shah has seen fit to favor you, while he has decided to punish me. Why is that? Don’t we share the same blood?”

“We do.”

“Well, then?”

“It is fate, I suppose.”

“Uncle,” Pari said, her tone sharp, “a shah does not marry the daughter of a man, thereby tying his bloodline to that of royalty for all time, unless that man has provided a great service to him or has promised to do so.”

There was a long silence. Shamkhal looked terribly hot next to his glacial niece. In the small room I could see every bead of sweat that formed where his turban met his brow.

“Someone has damaged me in the eyes of the Shah. Having
noticed your recent success, I can’t help but wonder if it has been responsible for my problems.”

Shamkhal burst out laughing. “Of course not. You have managed to create your problems all by yourself.”

“Such as?”

“Haven’t you learned that this shah won’t permit haughty behavior? You may be correct about the rebellion, but you have behaved like a fool.”

Pari looked stung, and I was secretly glad. Her uncle was able to talk to her in a way that I could not.

“How do you expect to win him over now?”

“I don’t know,” she said bitterly. “Right now, I want you to answer my question: What have you done for Isma‘il?”

“I took care of Haydar, remember?”

“Others helped vanquish him but were diminished anyway.”

“I do whatever he asks.”

Pari leaned her slender body toward his. “Have you spoken of me to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Too dangerous.”

“All this time, you have been thinking only of your own success!”

“Of course not,” Shamkhal said, adjusting his legs underneath his robes. “Don’t forget that I represent thousands of Circassians. If I am honored at court, all our people will benefit. We can’t ignore that.”

Pari gave him a knowing look. “And you yourself will become very rich.”

“That, too. Remember, the Circassians have only been a force at court for thirty years. We still don’t get the gifts of land and gold that the shah bequeaths to the qizilbash. The Circassians need a man like me to lobby for them.”

He had a point, but the scorn in Pari’s eyes was impossible to miss. “Don’t you understand the Shah’s strategy? He has offered you an alliance in order to curtail my power.”

“True.”

“I thought you were my ally.”

“I am your ally forever,” Shamkhal replied earnestly. “You are the child of my favorite sister, and there is no woman like you in all of Iran. But your desire to rule is not the only thing that matters.”

Pari drew back, sensitive to the insinuation that she sought power for her own sake. “Haven’t you noticed that nothing is getting done at court?”

“Of course. Isma‘il doesn’t know how to govern. He issues an order and then rescinds it. He has no idea whom to trust. His rule is a disaster so far.”

“Then how do you expect to help?”

“I know you could do a better job and I will advocate for you when the Shah learns to trust me, but no advocacy will work unless you change your ways. Isma‘il doesn’t feel he owes you anything. He is suspicious of your power. If you don’t bow down before him, you will never get anywhere.”