Monumental quiet fell over the chamber. A breeze from the mountains agitated the curtains and fluttered the feathers of the falcons. The Shah pointed his finger dagger at the eunuch’s eye. “Before we endanger the favorite’s life, we will pluck out your eyeballs and feed them to the birds.”

Unbelieving, the Shah stared at the dagger cap he aimed at the eunuch and confessed to himself that he was very close upon acting on his threat.

Narcissus rushed his words. “My lord, I would never suggest this unless I could assure the sultana’s safety. I fasted for three days, anticipating a vision to illuminate a path to our success. I saw the favorite, on our fastest stallion, leading our army into a vast arena of fire and rubble and into the heart of the enemy. The favorite, the Persian army, and the enemy fought under a cloak of smoke. Then the favorite, a crown on her head, emerged from the inferno. She galloped victoriously, abandoning the enemy in their molten grave.”

The Shah concealed his surprise. Unaware of his plan, Narcissus had had a vision of the enemy’s demise in molten rubble.

Narcissus fell on his flabby stomach and kissed the tips of the Shah’s slippers. “Your name shall live forever as the greatest Persian conqueror.”

30

Two of the finest blacksmiths of the country labored for weeks to fashion silver-burnished armor with the likeness of the Shah embossed on the breastplate. The Shah surveyed the armor as he would a work of art, then descended in person to the royal coffers and chose a bejeweled belt that had once belonged to Alexander the Great and had brought the Macedonian leader great luck and unparalleled triumphs. The Shah handed the armor to Gold Dust with a gorget he had ordered to match the belt.

“You shall accompany us,” he announced, turning on his heels.

She stood in a daze. Who could have persuaded the king to take her to war? It was a conspiracy. She must stop him. She rushed after him, tapping him on his shoulder. “My lord.”

His boots drummed impatiently on the carpet.

“I won’t go!” She stepped back from the anger in his eyes. “I can’t leave Raven alone.”

“She is more capable than most of us. She will take care of herself.”

“She’s only a young girl.”

The king stared at his favorite’s grip, but felt the soft touch of Raven’s tongue graze his arm as if it were an accident she regretted. He heard her voice pleading in the garden where they walked, in the watchtower where they spied, near the fountain where they prayed: Take me with you, Pedar. I’ll fight like a lion.

Gold Dust took a deep breath. “My lord, what would your men think of a woman escorting you? This behavior from a warrior they respect.”