Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,92
use is authority to you?
To die is better for thee than to oppress men.
God demanded that his leaders rule with justice, but what if they did not? Must we simply endure tyranny? Must we allow children to be murdered? Must we fear to draw a breath?
No! No! a voice inside me cried. If I didn’t do anything about Isma‘il, others would surely die. But if I tried to put a stop to him, would God condemn me to hell for my actions? I couldn’t know. All I could do was try to make things better for those who were still alive. So I went to Pari and swore to help her achieve her mission, and we agreed to work together even if it meant the loss of our own lives.
But how to hunt such well-concealed prey? Everything was designed to foil us. The palace itself with its high walls, the scattered, guarded buildings within its grounds secluded by trees, the labyrinthine courtyards and passages—all were built to disguise the specific locations of those within. Isma‘il surrounded himself with an army of servants whose lives and livelihoods depended on protecting him. He had secreted himself even further by withdrawing from most public appearances, and it was impossible to ask about his whereabouts because any query was bound to provoke suspicion. We would have to be more clever than a shah who was both powerful and frightened, more clever than all the walls and obstacles and guards that were purposely in place to protect him. We would have to defeat a system that was designed to thwart us.
We decided to gather more information about Isma‘il’s minutest habits, which meant getting closer to those people who knew him best. Pari said she would call on his Circassian wife, Koudenet, to see what she could learn, as well as Mahasti, his pregnant slave. Sultanam could not be expected to help us, but I told Pari I would become friendly with the ladies who knew Sultanam and might learn of his movements. I wrestled with whether I should reveal to her that one of my sources was very close indeed to the Shah, but I decided not to mention Khadijeh, out of a desire to protect her.
Most interesting was the Shah’s closest friend, Hassan Beyg Halvachi Oghli, who had such special status that even though he was a man, he was permitted to stay with the Shah in his private quarters. Pari gave me a nearly impossible task: to try to watch him, discover with whom he was friendly, and see if those people could tell me anything to make him vulnerable. She also instructed her other servants to report to her everything they heard around the palace, no matter how trivial.
Late one afternoon, when I returned to my room, I was surprised to find Balamani lying on his bedroll. His skin looked dusty gray, like an elephant’s, and his forehead was creased with pain.
“Oh jewel of the heavens! Where have you been?”
“At my usual evil deeds. What ails you?”
Balamani pointed at his foot, which he had stretched out away from everything else. His toes looked swollen.
“I can’t stand on it,” he replied. “My big toe feels like it is being burned by a flame.”
Balamani used to be as vigorous as an ox. It pained me to see him laid low.
“Do you want some medicine?”
“I am using a salve, but it does no good.”
“Well,” I said, “since your body has proved it could withstand the removal of a much bigger joint, it will no doubt heal your foot.”
Balamani laughed, but his laugh had a woeful sound. “It is ridiculous to be felled by a toe.”
“Ah,” I said, “but a man like you will never be felled so long as he can think. As it happens, I need your intelligence.”
“For what purpose, good or ill?” Balamani’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief and for a moment he looked as if he had forgotten his malady.
“Ill, of course,” I said. “After all, who could not feel ill over what has occurred?”
“Indeed; these are the darkest days I have ever lived.”
“Tell me: Were the murders necessary?”
“The Shah’s tactics are as subtle as a butcher’s knife—but then again, look at how effective a butcher’s knife is at doing its job. There is almost no one left who could challenge him for the throne.”
A cold draft of air entered the room; Balamani grimaced when it reached his toe.