Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,124

then arose with a grim expression.

“By God above, his life has fled!”

Pir Mohammad began reciting lines from the Qur’an.

“Who is the culprit?” asked Amir Khan with a snarl. “I will kill him with my own hands.”

My knees grew tense underneath my robe.

“We must find him as soon as possible,” Pir Mohammad replied, but he didn’t sound equally upset. Some of the Ostajlu were still in prison, after all.

“Wait a minute. Hakim Tabrizi, what is the cause of death?” Mirza Salman asked.

The physician looked uncertain. “I will have to examine his body and issue a report.”

“Is it poison?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The physician and the qizilbash leaders stared at the Shah’s corpse and then at each other, not knowing what to do. Only Mirza Salman looked as crisp and efficient as ever.

“We must not let the news of the Shah’s death leak outside the palace,” he said. “Remember how the city sank into lawlessness when Tahmasb Shah died? I will ensure that the Ali Qapu gate is closed so that the news can’t penetrate into the Promenade of the Royal Stallions. Then we will convene the top-ranking amirs immediately and discuss how to guide the state through this crisis.”

“What about the killer?” asked Amir Khan Mowsellu.

“Is there one? Hakim Tabrizi, let us know if you find poison in the Shah’s body.”

“I will.”

The men left Hakim and Hassan in the room with the dead Shah. Hassan still had not budged. Pir Mohammad and Amir Khan departed to convey the news to the noblemen. When Mirza Salman came out of the Shah’s bedroom, I affected grief.

“What a world-changing calamity. May God show mercy on us all!”

“Insh’Allah,” he replied.

“I only wish I didn’t have to inform my lieutenant of this terrible news.”

Mirza Salman leaned close to me. “Surely there was no love between them!” he whispered.

I squelched my surprise at his provocative words. “Siblings may quarrel and still love each other,” I replied gravely. It would only harm us if he spread the rumor that Pari was her brother’s enemy.

“But not these two. In any case, please be sure to tell her I am at her service for anything she needs. She knows of my loyalty: I will not fail her even if people say the deed shows her hand.”

“I will let her know.”

As I rushed across the square to Pari’s house, my heart felt lighter than it had in more than a year. For the first time since Isma‘il had become shah, justice had finally been done at the palace.

When I arrived, I told her servants I had an urgent message. She was sitting on a cushion in her private rooms with Azar and Maryam, who was massaging her hand. A cast-aside letter suggested to me that her hand had cramped from all the writing she had done lately.

“My lieutenant, I regret that I come to you with a message of woe, one so grave I wish my tongue could turn to stone rather than utter it.”

“But speak you must.”

“The light of the universe didn’t emerge from his bedroom this morning. Suspecting illness or foul play, his noblemen broke down the door and discovered that he had breathed his last. One of his doctors believes he may have consumed too much opium.”

I thought I should launch a plausible rumor about Isma‘il’s death as soon as possible. I would urge Azar Khatoon to spread the rumor far and wide.

Pari let out a terrifying scream and collapsed forward, while her ladies bent forward to comfort her. In her scream I heard not woe but rather the ferocity of her relief, like my own. Her ladies began to keen with her. Now, I thought with satisfaction, everyone can scream with joy.

“The gates to the Promenade of the Royal Stallions are being closed while the nobles decide what to do,” I added.

“I understand. You may leave me to my sorrows.”

I went back to my quarters, lay on my bedroll, and closed my eyes. My body pulsed as if I had just left a victorious battlefield. Whatever happened, even if my eyes should open to the sight of guards poised to kill me, everything would be different from now on. One disordered man would no longer terrorize us. We would no longer fear the cold blade of execution. Zahhak was dead.

At every moment, I expected the Shah’s guard would come for me and call me to account. Someone would betray me: Fareed would be unable to restrain himself from confessing, or the physician would rule that poisoned digestives had