voice increased its excitement as the poem leapt forward, and I, too, felt as if I could see him on the battlefield, his sword flashing in the sun, his future as bright as his heart.
“Bah, bah, it is beautiful!” he exclaimed when she was done. “Who wrote it? I should like to meet the man and reward him.”
“I did,” replied Pari in a modest tone.
“Indeed? Then you are very talented. Did you know that I, too, compose poetry?”
“I hadn’t heard.”
“As I suspected, there is much you don’t know about me. I write under the pen name Adeli.”
The name he had chosen meant “man of justice.”
“Justice will indeed be yours,” Pari replied.
“I should like to hear your other poems.”
“Thank you. Perhaps you would also like to hear some of the poetry I commissioned about our father.”
“Yes, we must plan an evening together very soon. We can recite to each other.”
“I would be honored,” Pari said.
Isma‘il called for more refreshments, during which time I suggested to Pari in a low voice that we should go. But she pressed ahead, even before the sharbat arrived.
“Brother of mine, may I tell you about a matter of state?”
His eyes became suddenly wary, his tone cold. “What is it?”
She changed course and said, “I only meant . . . I wondered if I could assist you with the governorships that need filling. I could suggest some good men.”
“Everyone wants to suggest his own men,” he replied. “The problem is, whom can I trust?”
“I can advise you,” Pari said confidently.
“There are vipers everywhere,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Again and again I have escaped their venom through the grace of God.”
The princess looked puzzled.
“Do you know why it took me so long to come to Qazveen? I foiled several assassination plots by changing my plans on a moment’s notice. It is a wonder I arrived safely.”
“Thanks be to God for His beneficent protection,” Sultanam said, her protective gaze on her son.
“And now that I am here, I see that the palace is divided into those who supported me and those who didn’t. I haven’t stayed alive for twenty years in confinement only to be assassinated upon my return by traitors!”
“Of course not. May God keep you safe,” Pari replied.
“Yet my enemies are everywhere,” he continued. “I won’t feel secure until my coronation, when every man and woman makes a vow before God to obey me and is reminded that the punishment for disobedience is death.”
“Your heart will be much easier,” said his mother.
The astrologers had recently determined that all the stars were aligned perfectly, and the coronation had been scheduled for the following week.
“But even then I will have to be vigilant, because men’s hearts are blacker than dirt. My greatest wish would be to have the contents of every man’s mind revealed to me like the pages of a book so that no thought of treachery could ever escape my eye. Then, and only then, would I feel safe.”
The princess and I exchanged a troubled look.
“It will be some time before I know who has my interests foremost in mind,” he added, his eyes resting on his mother.
“Brother of mine, I offer my services whenever you need them. As you know, the nobles have been meeting with me every morning so that the business of the palace can proceed.”
I was glad Pari had mentioned the meetings. Now Isma‘il couldn’t claim that she was doing something behind his back, and could tell her what he thought about her actions. I awaited his answer anxiously.
“Yes, I know about the nobles who come to you,” he replied. “Time will show me who is loyal.”
It was an odd answer, neither positive nor negative, and I wondered if he included his sister in his concerns about loyalty.
“I wouldn’t recommend a man to you if I was uncertain about him,” Pari said. “There is one man whom I question, however: Mirza Shokhrollah.”
“I remember your concerns,” replied Isma‘il, “but his confusion over whether he should serve a woman was understandable.”
“I am royalty,” said Pari. “There is no confusion there.”
“True. Still, I need men like Mirza Shokhrollah. He understands court finances better than almost anyone.”
Pari was unable to prevent a frown from flitting across her face.
“My son,” interjected Sultanam, “it is time for your afternoon rest. Little by little, you must regain your strength.”
“Just one moment—my business is vital,” Pari replied.
“Yes, Mother,” said Isma‘il, ignoring the princess. “How grateful I am to have someone who looks after my well-being. I will go now and