Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,77

recount every piece of silver for fear of being one coin short. The formerly gleeful bandits are so wary of him that they have stopped robbing travelers. Not even the qizilbash chiefs dare to rebel.”

“Every day Isma‘il was in prison, he expected to be assassinated. That hasn’t changed. I think he fears his own kin the most.”

“But he doesn’t fear you. Otherwise he wouldn’t leave his dagger within reach.”

Nasreen walked in a moment later with coffee on a silver tray. I thanked her, adding that I would enjoy chasing the cold from my blood, and I drank the coffee in a few gulps.

“May your hands never ache!” I said. The coffee Khadijeh served was the best. I ate a rice flour and pistachio pastry, which I recognized immediately as Khadijeh’s own from the way it tickled my tongue, and then I pretended that we were still speaking about Rudabeh.

“To finish my story, she has just regained possession of her house. She is so overjoyed that she sent you a gift.”

I unrolled a piece of embroidery displaying poppies and roses. It was stitched on pale cotton in an extremely fine hand, so fine you could not distinguish the individual stitches.

Khadijeh touched the cloth. “What skilled fingers! Please convey my thanks to Rudabeh, and tell your commander I am always happy to help a woman in distress.”

“I will do so.” With that, I protested that I had already consumed too much of her time and said my farewells.

I was stricken with concern for Khadijeh. What if the Shah had attacked her before coming to his senses? His mind was even more disturbed than I had realized, and his nighttime fears were the proof.

When I entered Mirza Salman’s waiting room for the first time as Pari’s vizier, I felt as if I had arrived at the pinnacle of my career. Mirza Salman’s salon was filled with qizilbash nobles and other men of high stature. Men went in and out of his rooms at a regular pace, an efficiency that pleased me. Because of my new status, I was shown in quickly.

Mirza Salman worked in a small, elegant room with arched openings in the walls, attended by two scribes who sat on either side of him with wooden desks on their laps. One of them was finishing a document, while the other sat poised for current business. Mirza Salman congratulated me on being appointed Pari’s vizier, and I thanked him for seeing me. I told him that Pari wished for him to know the sad news that her cousin Ibrahim’s brother, Hossein, had died unexpectedly in Qandahar, leaving the province without a governor. The Shah had honored Ibrahim and Gowhar by visiting them to express his sympathy, but had forbidden them from wearing black.

Mirza Salman frowned. “And so?”

“Hossein was running Qandahar as if it were his own. There were concerns he might rebel by making an alliance with the Uzbeks.”

“So now that Hossein is dead,” he said, “the Shah has no reason to be kind to Ibrahim?”

Mirza Salman had a quick brain.

“That is what the princess fears. She has written to Ibrahim and Gowhar to tell them she thinks they should leave town, especially since they supported Haydar. She wants to know if you can help them.”

“I will try.”

“Meanwhile, Pari has asked her uncle to advocate on your behalf. He remains in good standing with the Shah and will look for opportunities to suggest that you be promoted.”

“Thank you.”

“It is always my pleasure to serve.”

Mirza Salman scrutinized me for a moment. I sensed that he wished to take my measure now that I was Pari’s vizier.

“You say that as if you really mean it.”

“I do.”

“Your personal sacrifice is still mentioned at court as a paragon. What an uncommonly large gift you gave to the throne!”

“Larger than you could possibly imagine,” I joked.

Mirza Salman laughed but couldn’t conceal a slight shudder. He eyed me the way one regards an unpredictable sharp-toothed animal, with a mixture of curiosity and horror.

“With balls as big as that, perhaps you should have been a soldier.”

“I like this job better.”

“I have always dreamed of being a military man,” he said, and I noticed that he had decorated one of his walls with old standards used in battle. “But administrators like me are thought to be too soft.”

I made the obligatory sounds of protest.

“Now that your star is ascending, I will keep my eye on you,” he added.

“Thank you,” I said, wondering if I could goad him into revealing some information.