Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,40
though he was already a great warrior,” she said gently.
“Teach you what?”
“The art of the bow.”
“And just look at me now!” he said with a ghastly laugh. Judging from his thin arms, he didn’t have enough strength to pull back a bowstring.
“It would be my fondest wish for us to shoot together again soon,” said Pari softly. “I am at your service.”
“And I suppose you will teach me this time,” he replied. Although his tone was playful, the skin on my neck tightened.
“I shall forever be your pupil,” she replied. “I will never forget how you trained me to hold my bow and showed me to keep the target foremost in my mind. Find its soft fleshy weakness, you said, and strike where you cannot fail. I took those lessons to heart. After you left I practiced often, and when you didn’t return, I asked for you. One of our father’s generals took pity on me and told me your locations while you were on campaign. I requested a map of the region, which was drawn for me by a royal cartographer, and marked your progress on it with bits of turquoise.”
She stopped there, no doubt wishing to avoid reminding him of his humiliating incarceration.
“And then what happened?”
“One day the map disappeared, and so did your name,” she replied. “I am very grateful God has sent you back to us again.”
“It must be like seeing a man from the dead,” he said. His yellow countenance made it difficult to disagree.
“I see a noble shah with cheeks as red as pomegranates,” Pari protested.
He waved his hand to forestall any more talk he could not believe. “Speaking of which, I visited our father’s grave early this morning.”
Pari tensed. Her father was still buried in a temporary grave at a nearby shrine, pending Isma‘il’s decision about where to inter him permanently. The other ladies began wailing, as they must do when the late Shah’s name was raised. Tears sprang to Pari’s eyes, while Isma‘il’s remained dry.
The moment was so awkward that I was glad I could justify loosening the silk handkerchief that I carried at my waist for Pari and offering it to her. She wiped her eyes and said, “Now we shall weep together, brother of mine.”
He laughed again, a ghoulish sound. “My tears are all dry,” he said.
His manners were very poor.
“Your suffering has been great. My biggest wish is to devote myself to you, dear brother,” Pari said quickly, to change the subject. “I promise to be useful.”
“Yes, I imagine you will, having spent so many years basking in the light of our father. What a waste!”
Pari drew back on her cushion. “I am very grateful to have benefited from his wisdom.”
“Oh, dear sister, don’t take offense. I only mean that his knowledge could have been put to better use by a child who could be shah.”
Pari looked bewildered.
“No matter,” he said. “That hasn’t been my fate, yet look what grand surprises God has brought me. I have selected a caravanserai in Ardabil as a gift to express my thanks for your service.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” said Pari.
It was a rich gift, since its rents would be a regular source of income, yet I was certain she would rather have had a humbler one given with true gratitude.
“You are welcome.”
“Brother of mine,” said Pari, “perhaps you will wish to hear about palace business. There are pressing matters to discuss.”
“All in good time.” He shifted on his cushion. “There is only one thing I want to know right now. How did the nobles behave?”
“With confusion.”
“Did they treat our family with respect?”
“Yes, for the most part.”
“Who didn’t?”
“I should hate to identify anyone. The situation baffled them.”
“But I insist on knowing.”
“Perhaps you have already heard that a few nobles refused to heed me. When I read to them from your letter, however, they fell into line.”
“Who? You must not hold anything back from me.”
“Well, it was mainly Mirza Shokhrollah, the chief of the treasury, and his supporters.”
“I see. I will take that into account.”
“Thank you.”
“Brother, may I tell you now about court business?” Pari was overeager, but it was impossible to know how soon he would allow her to see him again. Isma‘il’s eyes scanned the area around him as if he needed something.
“What is it, my son?” asked Sultanam.
“Nothing,” he replied. “I must go.”
He arose abruptly, signaling that the meeting was over. All the ladies stood up, surprised.
“I thank you all for your attendance. Now I leave you to feast, while