“Come into the lee, it’s cold.” From the edge of the hut now they could see down into the valley. Calm and quiet, a few specks of headlights from time to time on the road far, far below. Barely thirty minutes from the palace and Azadeh, Erikki was thinking. And no way to escape.
Every time he started engines to recharge his batteries and circulate the oil, five guns were pointing at him. At odd times he would stroll to the edge of the village or, like tonight, he would get up, ready to run and chance it on foot but never an opportunity, guards too alert. During the hunting today he had been sorely tempted to try to break out, useless of course, knowing they were just playing with him.
“It’s nothing, pilot, go back to sleep,” Bayazid said. “Perhaps there’ll be good news tomorrow. As God wants.”
Erikki said nothing, his eyes raking the darkness, unable to be rid of his foreboding. Perhaps Azadeh’s in danger or perhaps… or perhaps it’s nothing and I’m just going mad with the waiting and the worry and what’s going on? Did Ross and the soldier make a break for it and what about Petr matyeryebyets Mzytryk and Abdollah? “As God wants, yes, I agree, but / want to leave. The time has come.”
The younger man smiled, showing his broken teeth. “Then I will have to tie you up.”
Erikki smiled back, as mirthlessly. “I’ll wait tomorrow and tomorrow night, then the next dawn I leave.”
“No.”
“It will be better for you and better for me. We can go to the palace with your tribesmen, I can Ian - ”
“No. We wait.”
“I can land in the courtyard, and I’ll talk to him and you’ll get the ransom and th - ”
“No. We wait. We wait here. It’s not safe there.”
“Either we leave together or I leave alone.”
The Sheik shrugged. “You have been warned, pilot.”
AT THE PALACE OF THE KHAN: 11:38 P.M. Ahmed drove Najoud and her husband Mahmud down the corridor before him like cattle. Both were tousled and still in their bedclothes, both petrified, Najoud in tears, two guards behind them. Ahmed still had his knife out. Half an hour ago he had rushed into their quarters with the guards, dragged them out of their carpet beds, saying the Khan at long last knew they’d lied about Hakim and Azadeh plotting against him, because tonight one of the servants admitted he had overheard the same conversation and nothing wrong had been said.
“Lies,” Najoud gasped, pressed against the carpet bed, half blinded by the flashlight that one of the guards directed at her face, the other guard holding a gun at Mahmud’s head, “all lies…”
Ahmed slid out his knife, needle sharp, and poised it under her left eye. “Not lies, Highness! You perjured yourself to the Khan, before God, so I am here at the Khan’s orders to take out your sight.” He touched her skin with the point and she cried out, “No please I beg you I beg you please don’t… wait wait…”
“You admit lying?”
“No. I never lied. Let me see my father he’d never order this without seeing me fir - ”
“You’ll never see him again! Why should he see you? You lied before and you’ll lie again!”
“I… I never lied never lied …”
His lips twisted into a smile. For all these years he had known she had lied. It had mattered nothing to him. But now it did. “You lied, in the Name of God.” The point pricked the skin. The panic-stricken woman tried to scream but he held his other hand over her mouth and he was tempted to press the extra half inch, then out and in again the other side and out and all finished, finished forever. “Liar!”
“Mercy,” she croaked, “mercy, in the Name of God…”
He relaxed his grip but not the point of the knife. “I cannot grant you mercy. Beg the mercy of God, the Khan has sentenced you!” “Wait… wait,” she said frantically, sensing his muscles tensing for the probe, “please… let me go to the Khan… let me ask his mercy I’m his daugh - ”
“You admit you lied?”
She hesitated, eyes fluttering with panic along with her heart. At once the knife point went in a fraction and she gasped out, “I admit… I admit I exagg - ”
“In God’s name, did you lie or didn’t you?” Ahmed snarled. “Yes … yes… yes I did… please let me see my father… please.” The tears were pouring out and he hesitated, pretending to be unsure of himself, then glared at her husband who lay on the carpet nearby quivering with terror. “You’re guilty too!”
“I knew nothing about this, nothing,” Mahmud stuttered, “nothing at all, I’ve never lied to the Khan never never I knew nothing…” Ahmed shoved them both ahead of him. Guards opened the door of the sickroom. Azadeh and Hakim and Aysha were there, summoned at a moment’s notice, in nightclothes, all frightened, the nurse equally, the Khan awake and brooding, his eyes bloodshot. Najoud went down on her knees and blurted out that she had exaggerated about Hakim and Azadeh and when Ahmed came closer she suddenly broke, “I lied I lied I lied please forgive me Father please forgive me… forgive me … mercy… mercy…” in a mumbling gibberish. Mahmud too was moaning and crying, saying he knew nothing about this or he would have spoken up, of course he would have, before God, of course he would, both of them begging for mercy - everyone knowing there would be none.
The Khan cleared his throat noisily. Silence. All eyes on him. His mouth worked but no sound came out. Both the nurse and Ahmed came closer. “Ah’med stay an’d Hakim, Aza’deh… res’t go - them un’der gu’ard.” “Highness,” the nurse said gently, “can it no’ wait until tomorrow? You’ve tired yourself very much. Please, please make it tomorrow.” The Khan shook his head. “N’ow.”
The nurse was very tired. “I dinna accept any responsibility, Excellency Ahmed. Please make it as short as possible.” Exasperated, she walked out. Two guards pulled Najoud and Mahmud to their feet and dragged them away. Aysha followed shakily. For a moment the Khan closed his eyes, gathering his strength. Now only his heavy, throttled breathing broke the silence. Ahmed and Hakim and Azadeh waited. Twenty minutes passed. The Khan opened his eyes. For him the time had been only seconds. “My so’n, trus’t Ahmed as fir’st confid’ant.” “Yes, Father.”
“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
