A smile colored Gold Dust’s lips and the old woman realized that nothing mattered to the young girl but the end of this journey. Not the danger of a looming Shah. Not the threat of her daughter who hovered between genius and madness. Not even the breaking of her mother’s heart.

“Devour these transient moments with all your senses,” the Zoroastrian said. “In a month, you’ll grieve for passions you didn’t fulfill. Now go! Soleiman is waiting.”

As the young men, loyal followers of the old woman, carried the stretcher, not once did the Ancient Zoroastrian worry that the inhabitants of the Jewish Quarter would reveal where Gold Dust spent half a day of every week. No one would dare try the wrath of the Ancient Zoroastrian and Ahura Mazda, her God.

Two shadows, draped in black, stole behind Soleiman’s shanty. Moon Face could hardly curtail her joyful chortle. She had caught Gold Dust in the act of adultery.

Gulf Lily’s heart was heavy. He had come along to protect his beloved, but the route she chose was dangerous. She would not stop at anything to destroy the favorite. In the process she would lose her own life. The Shah did not reward those who bore bad news.

39

Soleiman the Agile had searched the alleys and had picked wildflowers from the cracks in the walls and from under fences of private yards. He arranged daisies and tuberoses in a glass of rosewater against which he rested a parchment engraved with his own handwriting. He inspected the room for signs of dust and spiderwebs. He had gathered stray feathers to stuff a casing he had sewn from threads unraveled from pillow covers. He had piled his books against the walls to make room for Gold Dust’s mattress.

His chest too small for his expectant heart, he waited at the threshold of his house. The stretcher bearers appeared at the opposite end of the pit. He stopped himself from rushing to Gold Dust and carrying her inside. His fingers locked in a nervous grip. The favorite was a breath away, her amber eyes questioning. He had felt at ease in the presence of the girl with the cherry anklet, but he did not know how to behave in the presence of the favorite. Was he allowed to lift her off the stretcher?

The voice of the Ancient Zoroastrian startled him. “Son, don’t stand there and stare. You don’t have much time.”

He lifted Gold Dust and held her in his arms, surprised at her frailty. Inside, he settled her on the cotton-cloaked feathers, piling cushions behind her and arranging her legs and arms.

She longed to wrap the veil around her body to conceal herself from his penetrating gaze.

Kneeling, he gathered the veil and tied it around her shoulders.

Had he read her thoughts?

He went to the windows and threw them open. Sunlight tumbled in. Fresh air filled her lungs. Here there were no partitions, no boundaries, no dark corners.