She would not yet remind her daughter of the lethal rage of the Shah, whom she thought weak. She would not remind her of the cutting pain of the bowstring. The fire of poison in her belly. The sting of scorpions. The shame of being dragged by her hair around the Courtyard of Horses.

She would encourage the acrobat back. Let him try to sustain his allure through repeated presentations. There was no difference between a tightrope walker like the acrobat and a man who had to, for prolonged periods, uphold his performance in bed. She had yet to meet a man who could charm a woman for too long. The acrobat was no different. Let him uncover his face and strip off the mystery he had skillfully created.

27

When the acrobat lay on his straw mattress and stared at his gray walls, he saw golden eyes glancing through velvet. A consuming fever followed him day and night and his heart turned cold in fear of having fallen in love with the Shah’s sultana.

The acrobats asked why he was flushed and why his legs had lost their grip. He mumbled under his breath and continued to struggle with his daily chores. He could not explain that his world had lost color and everything seemed past its prime. He could not explain that he was trapped in the eyes of a sultana he would never see again. How could he explain that he dared not whisper a word in fear of its reaching the Shah’s ears?

One early morning, a knock awakened the acrobat.

The sultanas were pleased with his last show and invited him back to the seraglio.

In his eagerness, he did not ask why he was invited back so soon. Could his act have pleased the brave sultana who had dared release the curtains? No. It was the thirteenth day of the month of Farvardin, he told himself, the last day of the New Year feast. The sultanas and their daughters had decided to end the celebrations with a show.

The fever left him and in its place anticipation permeated his body. He would dazzle the sultana with his chimerical universe, so she would call him back again and again. He would adore the image of the woman behind the partitions; cherish the sound of her applause, the scent of her body. He would continue loving her in his dreams, but he would never express his true feelings to a living soul. He had heard of heads displayed on the gates of the palace, and he was aware that if he revealed his love he would lose his life.

He began a strenuous rehearsal with his men, the bear, and the cobra. This time, the Giant Man would join the show. He picked small morsels and fed the Giant Man, who stared at the chipped bowl that held more food than he was used to. The puffed-up cheeks of the giant trembled, and a smile contorted his face. His unintelligible words slurred as he expressed his delight at the possibility of serving his master. He did not know that his master hoped the breeze of his giant steps might flutter the curtains open and he might glance at the sultana’s unveiled face.