“Swea’r by G’d, bo’th of you.”
He listened carefully as they both chorused, “I swear by God I will trust Ahmed as first confidant.” Earlier they had both sworn before all the family the same thing and everything else he required of them: to cherish and guard little Hassan; for Hakim to make Hassan his heir; for the two of them to stay in Tabriz, Azadeh to stay at least two years in Iran without leaving: “This way, Highness,” Ahmed had explained earlier, “no alien outside influence, like that of her husband, could spirit her away before she’s sent north, whether guilty or innocent.”
That’s wise, the Khan thought, disgusted with Hakim - and Azadeh - that they had allowed Najoud’s perjury to be buried for so many years and to let it go unpunished for so many years - loathing Najoud and Mahmud for being so weak. No courage, no strength. Well, Hakim’ll learn and she’ll learn. If only I had more time…
“Aza’deh.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Naj’oud. Wh’at punish ‘ment?”
She hesitated, frightened again, knowing how his mind worked, feeling the trap close on her. “Banishment. Banish her and her husband and family.” Fool, you’ll never breed a Khan of the Gorgons, he thought, but he was too tired to say it so he just nodded and motioned her to leave. Before she left, Azadeh went to the bed and bent and kissed her father’s hand. “Be merciful, please be merciful, Father.” She forced a smile, touched him again, and then she left.
He watched her close the door. “Hak’im?”
Hakim also had detected the trap and was petrified of displeasing his father, wanting vengeance but not the malevolent sentence the Khan would pronounce. “Internal banishment forever, penniless,” he said. “Let them earn their own bread in future and expel them from the tribe.” A little better, thought Abdollah. Normally that would be a terrible punishment. But not if you’re a Khan and them a perpetual hazard. Again he moved his hand in dismissal. Like Azadeh, Hakim kissed his father’s hand and wished a good night’s sleep.
When they were alone, Abdollah said, “Ah’med?”
“Tomorrow banish them to the wastelands north of Meshed, penniless, with guards. In a year and a day when they’re sure they’ve escaped with their lives, when they’ve got some business going or house or hut, burn it and put them to death - and their three children.”
He smiled. “G’ood, do i’t.”
“Yes, Highness.” Ahmed smiled back at him, very satisfied. “Now sl’eep.”
“Sleep well, Highness.” Ahmed saw the eyelids close and the face fall apart. In seconds the sick man was snoring badly.
Ahmed knew he had to be most careful now. Quietly he opened the door. Hakim and Azadeh were waiting in the corridor with the nurse. Worriedly, the nurse went past him, took the Khan’s pulse, peering at him closely. “Is he all right?” Azadeh asked from the doorway.
“Who can say, lassie? He’s tired himself, tired himself badly. Best you all leave now.”
Nervously Hakim turned to Ahmed, “What did he decide?”
“Banished to the lands north of Meshed at first light tomorrow, penniless and expelled from the tribe. He will tell you himself tomorrow, Highness.” “As God wants.” Azadeh was greatly relieved that worse had not been ordered. Hakim was glowing that his advice had been taken. “My sister and I, we, er, we don’t know how to thank you for helping us, Ahmed, and, well, for bringing the truth out at long last.”
“Thank you, Highness, but I only obeyed the Khan. When the time comes I will serve you as I serve His Highness, he made me swear it. Good night.” Ahmed smiled to himself and closed the door and went back to the bed. “How is he?” “No’ so good, Agha.” Her back was aching and she was sick with tiredness. “I must have a replacement tomorrow. We should have two nurses and a sister in charge. Sorry, but I canna continue alone.”
“Whatever you want you will have, provided you stay. His Highness appreciates your care of him. If you like I will watch him for an hour or two. There’s a sofa in the next room and I can call you in case anything happens.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you, I’m sure. Thank you, I could use a wee rest, but call me if he wakes, and anyway in two hours.”
He saw her into the next room, told the guard to relieve him in three hours and dismissed him, then began a vigil. Half an hour later he quietly peered in at her. She was deeply asleep. He came back into the sickroom and locked the door, took a deep breath, tousled his hair and rushed for the bed, shaking the Khan roughly. “Highness,” he hissed as though in panic, “wake up, wake up!”
The Khan clawed his way out of leaden sleep, not knowing where he was or what had happened or if he was nightmaring again. “Wh’at… wh’at…” Then his eyes focused and he saw Ahmed, seemingly terrified which was unheard of. His spirit shuddered. “Wh’a - ”
“Quick, you’ve got to get up, Pahmudi’s downstairs, Abrim Pahmudi with SAVAMA torturers, they’ve come for you,” Ahmed panted; “someone opened the door to them, you’re betrayed, a traitor betrayed you to him, Hashemi Fazir’s given you to Pahmudi and SAVAMA as a pishkesh, quick, get up, they’ve overpowered all the guards and they’re coming to take you away…” He saw the Khan’s gaping horror, the bulging eyes, and he rushed on: “There’re too many to stop! Quick, you’ve got to escape …” Deftly he undipped the saline drip and tore the bedclothes back, started to help the frantic man to get up, abruptly shoved him back, and stared at the door. “Too late,” he gasped, “listen, here they come, here they come, Pahmudi at the head, here they come!”
Chest heaving, the Khan thought he could hear their footsteps, could see Pahmudi, could see his thin gloating face and the instruments of torture in the corridor outside, knowing there would be no mercy and they would keep him alive to howl his life away. Demented he shouted at Ahmed, Quick, help me. I can get to the window, we can climb down if you help me! In the Name of God, Ahmeddddddd… but he could not make the words come out. Again he tried but still his mouth did not coordinate with his brain, his neck muscles stretched with effort, the veins overloaded.
It seemed forever he was screaming and shouting at Ahmed who just stood watching the door, not helping him, footsteps coming closer and closer. “He’lp,” he managed to gasp, fighting to get out of bed, the sheets and coverlet weighing him down, restricting him, drowning him, chest pains growing and growing, monstrous now like the noise.
“There’s no escape, they’re here, I’ve got to let them in!” At the limit of his terror he saw Ahmed start for the door. With the remains of his strength he shouted at him to stop but all that happened was a strangled croak. Then he felt something twist in his brain and something else snap. A spark leaped across the wires of his mind. Pain ceased, sound ceased. He saw Ahmed’s smile. His ears heard the quiet of the corridor and silence of the palace and he knew that he was truly betrayed. With a last, all-embracing effort, he lunged for Ahmed, the fires in his head lighting his way down into the funnel, red and warm and liquid, and there, at the nadir, he blew out all the fire and possessed the darkness. Ahmed made sure the Khan was dead, glad that he had not had to use the pillow to smother him. Hastily he reconnected the saline drip, checked that there were no telltale leaks, partially straightened the bed, and then, with great care, examined the room. Nothing to give him away that he could see. His breathing was heavy, his head throbbing, and his exhilaration immense. A second check, then he walked over to the door, quietly unlocked it, noiselessly returned to the bed. The Khan was lying sightlessly against the pillows, blood hemorrhaged from his nose and mouth.