Equal of the Sun (43 page)

The princess’s face beamed like the sun bursting out between the clouds. Her gaze warmed me to my very core, making me feel that all my hard work was worth it. I knew not to speak until she sent Azar Khatoon out of the room for tea and dates.

“All is in order,” I said simply.

“Did anyone notice the lack of a seal?”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Fareed?”

“Gone. He is so frightened I don’t think he will ever leave the imprint of his foot in Qazveen again.”

She let out a long, deep sigh. “May God always keep you safe.”

We discussed our movements during every hour of the last two days and agreed that if either of us were challenged, we would say she had been in her rooms writing letters to her female allies at other courts.

“The Ottomans still haven’t sent an emissary to congratulate Isma‘il on his coronation,” Pari said. “It is such a breach of protocol that I need to write to Safiyeh Sultan, Murad III’s wife, to express my concern about maintaining the peace treaty, and naturally I will also send a gift. If questioned, I will say that I hired the horses and groom to send the items on the first stage of their journey.”

“What shall I say about my whereabouts?”

“You have been assisting me. If someone saw you in the bazaar fetching the digestives, you will say that I gave you permission to go in search of a new medicine for your stomach—which by now has been well established as a vexing problem.”

I smiled.

“Now, before you return to your quarters, I wish to read you a poem I have written.”

“What a welcome surprise.”

“Sit down.”

I stared at her. Sit down, while she was still standing? It would be the first time I had ever violated this protocol.

“Go ahead.”

I lowered myself carefully onto one of her cushions. Pari picked up the burnished cotton paper on which she had written her poem and read it out loud.

    
“At first you would think he was a mouse

    
Scuttling discreetly through the house

    
He could make himself seem to disappear

    
In quietness and stealth, he had no peer

    
Like an honest woman, he listened well

    
His selfless words could comfort you in hell

    
You might be tempted to think him soft as gruel

    
As if weakened through lack of some tool

    
Yet inside he was made of damascened steel

    
His heart was a lion’s; his roar was real

    
He proved the truth that a man’s fragile skin

    
Gives no hint of the white fury within

    
That a man of the pen schooled mostly in poems

    
Can rise to a height surpassing the greatest domes.

    
Was he a man? A woman? A bit of each?

    
I would argue the third sex has plenty to teach

    
From now till eternity, one name holds this key:

    
It is Payam Javaher-e-Shirazi!”

“May your hands never ache! It is beautiful.”

“You say that because your ears hear only beauty,” she replied demurely.

“I mean it,” I said, feeling myself soften. To think that the princess would write me such a loving poem! It was more than I had ever hoped for. Men would always think of me as lesser because of my missing tool, while women would imagine that I was exactly like them. They were both wrong. I was indeed a third sex, one more
supple than those stuck in the rigid roles handed to them at birth. Pari had understood. Rather than seeing me as defective, she chose to celebrate the new thing I had become. My birth as a eunuch had finally been recognized and recorded with as much fanfare as the moment a male child enters the world.

I was a man, so I wanted to embrace her; yet as her soldier, I must only salute her. The conflicting feelings made me leap to my feet in an effort to pursue the right course. Then I just stood there, not knowing what to do next, until Pari’s smile told me that she knew what was in my heart.

The palace was quiet all that day. I was as skittish as a cat, wondering if every noise in the corridors announced that the deed was done. But all was calm. Late in the afternoon, I told Pari I wanted to return to my vigil on her roof to try to discern whether the digestives had been eaten.

“You may go,” she said. “I will send one of my ladies with a platter of food for you.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

I removed my turban, borrowed one of her ladies’ chadors, covered my body, and ascended the staircase to the roof. A white chill pervaded the air. I covered my head and stared at the sky, watching the first few stars appear. When one winked at me, I imagined Khadijeh was signaling her approval.

After the cannon boomed, Azar Khatoon brought me a blanket and my meal. Pari must have told her to spare nothing. I ate roast lamb falling off the bone, several types of rice, stewed lamb with greens and tart lemons, chicken with sweetened barberries, cucumber with yogurt and mint, and hot bread. When I had finished, Azar brought me a large vessel of tea flavored with cardamom.

“That black garment brightens your coffee-colored eyes,” she teased, and her smile showed off the pretty black beauty spot near her lower lip.

“Only a rose like you would be so gracious even to the humblest of flowers,” I flirted.

“What are you doing on the roof?” she asked as she descended the stairs.

“Studying the stars,” I replied. “The princess has asked me to improve my astrological skills.”

I hoped not to see the door of Hassan’s house opening, because that would mean the Shah had survived. But when the moon rose high in the sky, the door creaked open and Hassan exited with a man swathed in ordinary robes—the Shah—and a few well-armed bodyguards. I burned with disappointment. Obviously, he had not eaten the digestives yet. But what if he had, and they had not been strong enough?

After they disappeared, I didn’t see any reason to stay outside in the cold. I went downstairs and found Pari.

“They have just left for their celebrations,” I said, feeling anger in my teeth.

“Very well, then,” said Pari coolly. “Why don’t you help me with these letters?”

My body was tensed for action. I reminded myself what Balamani had once told me about cheetahs. They are the fastest animals on earth, but they don’t eat very often. Sometimes, in a matter of seconds, they run out of energy and give up while their prey dances away.

I forced myself to relax. “Of course.”

While Pari finished her letter about maintaining the peace treaty, I voiced similar sentiments to other notable women, writing as her scribe. My pen flew across the page. All my nerves were so alert, I felt as if I would never need sleep again. We drank tea and ate sweets to keep our strength high. Pari called in her servants regularly so they could witness us at work and provide an alibi. The only sign of how the princess felt was that from time to time she dribbled ink onto her letter and had to start over.

Deep into the night, she turned to me and said, “I think I have finally understood why my father didn’t designate an heir. He was only too aware of the problems each man would have brought to the throne and couldn’t settle on any one of them.”

Her eyes were thoughtful, her face soft. I decided to take a risk and reveal some of what I longed to know. “Perhaps he wanted fate to reveal who would be the greatest Safavi leader.”

Pari stared at me, surprised. “So you know about your chart? How did you find out?”

I smiled. “I have my ways, Princess.”

“I know you do.”

“But I don’t know everything, of course. Is that the reason you and your father decided to employ me at court?”

“It is one of the reasons, yes. But don’t think for a moment we would have kept promoting you if you didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you, lieutenant of my life. May I know why you didn’t tell me about my chart?”

“We were advised not to. When people hear such a prediction, they try to fulfill it. We wanted you to be a vessel for truth.”

Tahmasb Shah had followed the guidance offered by his dreams, and they had never failed him. It didn’t surprise me that he had taken the prediction about me so seriously.

Azar Khatoon entered the room and asked Pari if she wished for more refreshments. I waited impatiently for them to be done. Sweat gathered at my temples where my turban hugged my head.

When they had finished talking, I said, “May God grant that I fulfill the prophecy you mentioned! But right now something else troubles me. For a long time, I have been trying to unravel the story of my father’s murderer, Kamiyar Kofrani.”

I thought it was safe to tell her now. She needn’t worry that a quest for revenge would split my loyalties.

“I understand you have kept the court historians busy with your requests.”

“Deh!” I should have known her spies would report me to her.

“What is it you still wish to know?”

“The histories say he had powerful allies.”

“Really?” Pari’s forehead puckered, and her eyes looked puzzled. “As far as I know, the man was an ordinary accountant. You might ask Mirza Salman. He employed him a long time ago in Azerbaijan.”

Why hadn’t Mirza Salman ever mentioned that?

“Do you know why he wasn’t punished?”

“Yes.”

Panah bar Khoda!
I stared at her, my eyes full of questions.

“Javaher, I can’t tell you the reason just yet. Have patience, and I will reveal it to you when it is safe for you to know.”

Now my concentration disappeared entirely. Seeing me so flummoxed, Pari told me to return to my quarters and rest. The lines at her mouth looked deep with worry. I didn’t blame her.

I went to my room, making sure to mention to a few eunuchs how tired I was from assisting Pari with letters all night. Balamani was already asleep. I lay on my bedroll with my copy of the
Shahnameh,
but instead of reading, I found myself thinking of the cord at Mahmood’s young throat, the poison in Khadijeh’s belly, and the dagger in my father’s chest. Why couldn’t Pari tell me what she knew?

I lit a lamp and opened the
Shahnameh
to the page about how Kaveh had stood up to Zahhak and chastised him for his bloodthirstiness. Kaveh’s boldness in the face of injustice had so surprised the tyrant that he hadn’t been able to stop him. One man had to stand up to Zahhak so that others would finally gain enough courage to fight for justice.

I marveled at the bravery of that humble hero of old, who had neither nobility nor money nor friends—nothing but his sense of justice to guide him.

Well before noon, I arose, dressed, and went to see Pari. When I arrived at her house, she was wearing the same blue robe as the night before, and the hollows under her eyes were even darker. She was just where I had left her.

“Princess, what ails you?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Every time I heard a noise, I expected news. Just now, Mirza Salman sent a message that he needs to speak with me urgently. I must discover the reason.”

“Could he have unearthed our plans?”

“No. He would have sent the royal guard instead, and he wouldn’t have asked permission.”

It didn’t take long for Mirza Salman to arrive. He came with only one servant rather than the usual large retinue that accompanies a grand vizier. My pulse quickened when I noticed a few stray hairs hanging out of his normally impeccable turban. I showed him to his side of the lattice in Pari’s birooni and stayed to better observe him.

“Esteemed servant of the realm, your visit is welcome.” The princess’s low, sweet voice filled the divided room.

“Princess,” Mirza Salman replied in a sober tone, “an unprecedented situation has occurred at the palace. Your brother, the light of the universe, hasn’t shown the sunshine of his face this morning, and everyone at the palace is worried.”