Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,80
briefly left the earth, and their white tunics billowed around them so that they resembled the pure white roses in the royal gardens.
I weighed the burdens on my heart. My father, whose soul cried for justice. My mother, who had died without the satisfaction of seeing her family’s honor restored. My sister, who had been deprived of the ordinary happiness of growing up with loving parents and siblings. I thought of the parts of my body that were missing and of the sons I would never have. Had I made the right choice, if I could not avenge my father? Had my sacrifice been for nothing? As I watched the Sufis whirl, I wished I could spin with them and purge my heart of all its suffering.
Eventually, the music slowed and the men began turning more slowly until they gradually came to a halt. They paused to collect themselves, then drifted to a group of cushions to sit and refresh themselves with tea and sweetmeats. They looked peaceful and happy. I envied their stillness. In the press of my daily service to Pari, it was easy to forget that such communion between the self and the divine was a gift always at hand.
An older man with a face as lined and as bumpy as a walnut shell sat down beside me. I greeted him and asked about his health.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “The world is ending, alas! And it is all because of a sheep.”
“Indeed? Now how is that?”
“The sheep has become ill,” he replied. “It fell down with limbs so straight and stiff it could no longer right itself.”
“Your riddles are too deep for this humble seeker. How does that presage the end of the world?”
“There are no riddles at all, my child! Not for those who know the truth.”
I pretended to be distracted by a tray of tea carried by a boy.
“We are in disgrace,” the old man insisted, his wrinkles deepening with concern. “All of us.”
“May I offer you some tea?”
I stood up to signal the boy.
“I don’t need tea. I need a remedy.”
I agreed with him silently about that. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“The Ostajlu,” he blurted out, which surprised me into sitting down again.
“What about them?”
“A Sufi sold them a sick sheep,” he said, “and now they are angry.”
It sounded simple enough. “Why not have a specialist examine it, with restitution to follow if required?”
“It is too late,” he replied. “Men have drawn their daggers and each other’s blood.”
I sighed. “If it was only a squabble, put your trust in God, arbiter of all things.”
“God was on our side,” he whispered, leaning toward me as if I were a conspirator. “Our men beat back the Ostajlu, who have not forgiven us.”
“Your men must be fierce,” I said, to encourage him to talk.
“They are fierce, but few. Now they are in hiding, fearing for their lives. The world is ending, alas!”
He uttered an unearthly groan after he said this, but the men around us paid no attention. I persevered.
“Why is the world ending?”
“They wish to destroy us!” he said, his voice rising, and it sounded as if he might start raving. “Who can hope to resist the combined efforts of all the qizilbash?”
“All the qizilbash? Isn’t the argument just with the Ostajlu?”
“It is, but all the men of the sword have been sent against us.”
“They have? By whom?”
The boy arrived with the tea. The man placed a date in his mouth and took a swallow of tea. I stared at him, wondering if what he said could be true.
“By the one and only,” he replied, obviously too frightened to name Isma‘il Shah.
“But why would he send them against the Sufis?”
As the man paused to drink more tea, I remembered that the Sufis had regarded Kholafa as their spiritual leader.
“They fear our power,” he replied.
“May God keep all your members safe from harm.”
“Insh’Allah.”
I drained my tea, thanked the man for sharing his company, and left quickly. Why would the Shah feel it necessary to use the pretext of a quarrel over a sick sheep to punish the Sufis? He could punish anyone he wished. And if the Shah wanted the Ostajlu to take revenge on the Sufis to prove their loyalty to him, why would he bother to send all the qizilbash? I had to figure out how these strange, misshapen shards might coalesce into a picture of perfect clarity.
I rushed back to the palace and told Pari what I had learned