Zendegi

Three buildings with ominous barred windows faced into a central courtyard. The warder led them across muddy ground; Martin found himself skirting the puddles as if his new virtual self, lacking contact with the dry floor of a ghal’e, couldn’t help taking the threat of discomfort more seriously.

It was dim inside the prison building; it took a few seconds for Martin’s eyes to adjust. Two rows of cage-like cells stretched out ahead of them on either side, each containing half-a-dozen grimy inhabitants. There was no furniture at all, just some straw on the ground and a bucket for each cell that Martin was glad he couldn’t smell. In spite of himself, he couldn’t help searching the prisoners’ faces, wondering about their treatment and when they’d be released.

The warder led them towards a cell near the end of the right-hand row. ‘Hey, stable-boy! Your father’s here for a visit!’ A white-haired youth turned, a shocked expression on his face. His real father, Sam, was off fighting a war in Gorgsaran. Out of the warder’s line of sight, Javeed raised a finger to his lips: we won’t give away your secret, so don’t give away ours.

Zal walked over to the edge of his cage. ‘Welcome, Father. Welcome, Little Brother. I’m ashamed that you’re seeing me this way.’

‘I’m sorry it’s come to this,’ Martin said. ‘It’s my fault for not putting a roof over our heads.’

The warder left them. They drew closer to Zal and he asked in a low voice, ‘Who are you? I’m sure you weren’t in my expedition.’

‘We’re simple Persian travellers,’ Martin explained. ‘We heard about your plight and wondered how we could help.’

‘You must keep silent,’ Zal insisted. ‘If Mehrab learns that Sam’s son was inside his palace, visiting my beloved Rudabeh, no good will come of it for anyone.’

‘Do you want us to take a message to your entourage?’ Martin suggested. They were camped on the outskirts of the city. ‘You must have been missed by now.’

Zal shook his head. ‘If my companions learn my fate, it will be hard to restrain them. And if they enter the city and free me, that will make trouble that will not be easily undone.’

Javeed said, ‘Why did you sneak into the palace?’

Zal sighed. ‘Imagine a woman as slender as a cypress tree, with a face more lovely than the full moon.’

‘But couldn’t you just ask her father to let you marry her?’

‘I will! I must!’ Zal replied fervently. ‘But first I need to write to my own father, to persuade him that this match is auspicious. And then my father must find some way to win over the Persian King Manuchehr, to convince him that this alliance will not lead to tragedy. Mehrab is the grandson of Zahhak, the monster who brought death and sorrow to Persia for a thousand years! I cannot condemn Mehrab for his ancestor’s crimes – or in the same breath I would have to renounce my beloved – but nor should I misjudge the struggle I’ll face to gain my father’s approval and Manuchehr’s blessing.’

That Javeed had supposedly derailed Zahhak’s infamous career in an earlier encounter didn’t seem to faze him; if he’d been able to change the whole history of the Shahnameh there’d be no framework for the stories left standing.

‘Then how can we help you?’ Javeed asked.

Zal stood in silence, pondering the question. Then he squatted down to bring his face close to Javeed’s.

‘Tell me, are you a boy who can come and go from a place unseen?’

‘Yes,’ Javeed replied confidently.

‘Are you a boy who can be trusted with the most prized of my possessions?’

‘Yes.’

Zal hesitated, rocking back on his heels nervously. He wiped his nose on his filthy sleeve; his commoner’s disguise was very authentic, to the point where Martin had trouble picturing Rudabeh letting him into her room at all.

Zal made his decision. ‘In my tent outside the city,’ he whispered to Javeed, ‘there is a small bag made of plain brown cloth, with nothing to distinguish it or draw attention to its value. But if you can bring it to me without anyone knowing what you’ve done, I will throw open my treasury to you. You will have emeralds, diadems, five golden thrones, a hundred Arab horses adorned with the finest brocade, fifty elephants-’

‘Elephants!’ Martin saw Javeed’s happy face, captured in Omar’s shop before their first session, rendered at full strength for the first time in months.

‘Listen carefully,’ Zal said. ‘We are camped on the southern bank of the river, a short march east of here. There will be two sentries standing guard, but we are not at war, so they will not be too serious in their task, and they will not be watching the river. Sneak in through the rushes, then make your way through the camp. My tent lies furthest to the south. The brown bag is beside my sleeping mat. Bring that here, and all my hardship will be lifted. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you do this for me?’

‘Yes.’

Zal reached through the bars and grasped his hand. ‘Fortune has favoured me with an ally such as this. God protect you, Little Brother.’