would never have expected to feel such kinship with a eunuch.”
The tender bud in my heart bloomed, its petals unfurling so quickly that my chest ached.
“Remember when I asked you, months ago, about how you got cut? I know you suffered a great deal. Selfishly, though, I am glad it was your fate, because otherwise I would never have come to know you as I do. What a precious jewel you are! How brightly you shine!”
It was a sign of her great generosity that she lavished such compliments on me right after her lowest moment with the Shah. Feelings that I had never allowed to show prickled my eyes. Rather than being criticized or derided for what I didn’t have, I felt appreciated, for the first time, for all I knew and could do. An understanding passed between us that seemed as bottomless as a well.
With great delicacy, Pari suggested that perhaps I wished to return to my quarters and refresh myself with afternoon tea.
CHAPTER 5
TEARS OF BLOOD
One of Zahhak’s subjects was a blacksmith named Kaveh, who worked hard at the forge every day to support his family of eighteen sons. Kaveh was a blessed man until Zahhak began requiring each household to deliver a tribute of young men to feed the hungry snakes on his shoulders. Kaveh’s bounty of sons made him unluckier than most. He watched his sons get taken away one by one, and each time, their heads were smashed and their brains delivered to the serpents. The blood boiled within Kaveh, but what could he do? No one dared refuse an order from the king.
At the palace, Zahhak’s peace was still being disturbed by his nightmare about Fereydoon and by intimations that his own rule had been unjust. One day, he decided to create a record of his reign that would clear his name for all time. He ordered his scribes to write a proclamation describing him as a paragon of justice in every respect. Then he commanded the nobles of his court to sign the statement. Once again, no one dared refuse an order from the king.
As the days grew darker, colder, and shorter, a new order was created at the harem. Sultanam, who had the Shah’s ear, was at the top, with the Shah’s new wives jockeying for power below her. Pari, who was now firmly associated with her dead father and the past, had been neutered. No longer her father’s advisor or the protector of the dynasty, she was relegated to the role that out-of-favor women played, doomed to struggle to find relevance in any way she could. In this, she was like many courtiers who strove to ingratiate themselves to the court after dishonor. But if Isma‘il reigned for a long time, it would be a long wait.
When someone fell out of favor with a shah, it was common to enlist allies to help with rehabilitation. The allies would report on the offending party’s feelings of contrition and would request clemency, or suggest a way to placate the shah. They would look for moments when he might be likely to soften, such as times of good fortune or religious celebrations that incited feelings of charity. Such petitions could carry on for months or years and might require enduring punishment. But I was hopeful. The Ostajlu were now the Shah’s best friends again. It could be done, and it could be done in a matter of months, as my own case had shown.
“Princess, be patient,” I told Pari. “I myself once endured the same cold winter. The best thing we can do now is to enlist your allies’ help in creating a thaw.”
I said this in part to try to console myself. With Pari so out of favor, my new role as her acting vizier didn’t provide the access I had expected, but rather obscurity and irrelevance.
During that time, Pari spent long hours in correspondence, writing to kinswomen and courtiers all over the realm to keep apprised of goings-on and to petition those who could help her. After she asked for assistance from her half sister Gowhar, who was married to Ibrahim Mirza, Gowhar revealed that despite Ibrahim’s support for Haydar, he had been invited to visit the Shah daily and had been selected as the Guardian of the Shah’s Most Precious Seal. She promised to talk to Ibrahim and let Pari know if there were any opportunities to soften the Shah’s heart. Gowhar was delightfully irreverent; once when she visited Pari, she