deny that this is it?”
“Any seal can be copied,” Shamkhal replied.
“This one is authentic, I swear,” said Haydar.
“In that case, let the Shah’s seal be brought forth for comparison,” insisted Shamkhal.
On occasion I had seen the Shah use the seal on his most important correspondence; he had worn it on a chain around his neck. Mirza Salman Jaberi, the head of the royal guilds, including the seal makers, was deputized by the treasury chief to visit the death room and make an impression of the Shah’s seal on a blank page.
Meanwhile, Saleem Khan announced that refreshments would be served. An army of servants rushed in with trays of hot cardamom tea, while others carried plates of nuts, dates, and sweetmeats. In the midst of the distraction, Sultanam’s chief eunuch, a broad-shouldered man with a thick neck, slipped out of the hall.
“What do you think?” I asked Balamani.
“I think Haydar is lying. If the Shah wanted him as heir, why didn’t he announce his choice before he died?”
“But that would have put Haydar at risk of assassination.”
Balamani snorted. “And he isn’t at risk now? He is like a lamb waiting to be skinned!”
While we were drinking our tea, Mirza Salman rushed back into the room with the seal soft on a fresh sheet of paper. He presented the paper to Saleem Khan, who unrolled it.
“I believe it is one and the same as the seal on the will,” he announced, and passed it around the room for all the men to see.
As the nobles were peering at the seal, Sultanam’s eunuch returned to the hall, panting lightly, and whispered some information into the ear of her brother, Amir Khan Mowsellu. His eyes widened, and before the eunuch had finished, he arose to speak.
“One of the exalted mothers of the palace visited the Shah early this morning after his death,” he announced. “As she was wailing over his body, she chanced to feel the seal at his throat and was surprised to feel the residue of soft wax in it. This suggests that the seal had been used recently, or possibly removed and returned.”
The room erupted into shouts once again. Saleem Khan demanded quiet and ordered that the guards of the Shah’s body be summoned. The first guard, who was almost as wide as he was tall, swore that the seal had not been removed during the night, and so did the others. But everyone knew that the guards could have been bribed, and the heat in the room began to intensify when there was no definitive answer about the validity of the will.
As squabbling broke out, Balamani looked on with disgust. “This is just what I feared. Each group lobbies for the man who will benefit his own people, not the man who will make the best shah.”
“And who would that be?”
“The great vizier Nizam al-Mulk wrote that after death, all rulers will be led before God with their hands tied. Only those who were just will be unshackled and delivered to heaven. The rest will be pitched straight into hell, their hands lashed eternally.”
“How fitting!”
I thought Mahmood would be a far better ruler than Haydar, although he was still too inexperienced to govern on his own. But I kept my opinions to myself; as Pari’s servant I must support her choice.
It took some time before Saleem was able to restore order by yelling in a voice so fierce it must have been heard outside the palace’s thick walls. He glared at the courtiers who would not be still, his face red with exertion and annoyance.
After everyone was quiet, Haydar spoke again. “I promise you all that my rule will shine with fairness to every tribe and to every man,” he proclaimed.
As evidence, he called on his servants to assist him, and they wheeled in carts filled with treasures. He reached into a cart and began passing out gifts. Amir Khan Mowsellu received a solid silver samovar, so finely engraved it was impossible to imagine using it for something as ordinary as tea. Mirza Salman took possession of two large blue and white porcelain vases from China. Other members of the court received silk robes of honor, so valuable they would be worn only on the most formal of occasions. Gifts piled up beside each nobleman until the room resembled a bazaar.
“He is robbing the treasury before it is his!” Shamkhal Cherkes charged in a loud whisper.
But as the gifts were distributed, the mood in the room softened while each nobleman