"As we are both the sons of our father, I do," Shahrayar answered steadily, though the truth was that he was beginning to feel alarmed.

"Then hear me, and grieve also," said Shazaman. At that, he related what he had lately overheard concerning Shahrayar's own wife. How she, too, had taken a lover, and how she plotted to kill her husband and set her paramour upon his throne.

When Shahrayar heard this, he was filled with a grief and anger such as he had never known. But even in his extremity, he strove to be fair, for thus did he honor the teachings of his father.

"All that you have spoken I believe, for you have always been true to me," he told Shazaman. "Yet before I can condemn these conspirators, I must hear their guilt from their own mouths."

"That is easily arranged," Shazaman replied. “I will convey you to the place where they meet. I have kept watch over them each night, for they have yet to reveal how they intend to do you harm. But I warn you, guard well your heart, Shahrayar. There may be more pain to you in this than I have yet spoken."

"I thank you for your care," said Shahrayar. Then the brothers embraced and went to conceal themselves.

When Shahrayar saw the place to which his brother conveyed him, he felt the first swift inklings of the pain of which Shazaman had warned. For Shahrayar himself had caused the courtyard to be built as proof of the great trust he had in his wife. None could walk there, save by her consent—not even Shahrayar.

"Come," Shazaman murmured to his brother.'Xet us conceal ourselves behind that vine."

And so they hid themselves behind a vine whose sweet white flowers made the night so heavy with their scent that the very air was as a perfumed cloud. Yet it seemed to Shahrayar that the scent was bitter in his nostrils. Rank and putrid as dead meat. It was not long before the queen and her lover arrived.

How they enjoyed each other (which Shahrayar could not help but see), what words of affection they murmured (which Shahrayar could not help but hear), it is not seemly for me to tell. But I can say that when he beheld the man with whom his wife betrayed him, no warning Shazaman could have given would have prevented the pain that then pierced Shahrayar's heart.

For here was one he had known since childhood, second only to his brother in Shahrayar's love. When at last the vizier joined Shahrayar's father in the kingdom of heaven, this was the man whom Shahrayar would have promoted above all others and placed at his right hand. There was no one he had loved or trusted more, save for Shazaman.

How many minutes he stood stricken, his senses muddled with rage and pain, Shahrayar never count-ed. But when at last he was himself again, he saw that, from a pocket stitched into the lining of her cloak, his wife had brought forth a dagger. Ancient symbols were etched upon its blade, and in its pommel was set a ruby red as heart's blood.

At the sight of it, so great a fury shook Shahrayar that the vine around him trembled, and many of its flowers showered to the ground. Shazaman seized his brother by the arm to hold him still. But the queen and her lover never noticed, so intent were they upon themselves.

"See what I have brought you!" said the queen. “It is my husbands parting gift to his brother. At my urging, he will present it to him at a great banquet the evening before Shazaman departs. But I will drug Shazaman's food so that he sleeps like one dead. Then, in the night, we will steal this dagger and use it to slay Shahrayar."

When he heard these words, the queens lover rejoiced and took her into his arms.

"Your mind, as always, is most excellent in its cunning, my beloved. For by this device we will rid ourselves of both these brothers. When his blade is found in the king's body, all will believe that Shazaman has slain Shahrayar. Then will we seize Shazaman and put him to death. And then there will be an end to waiting, for all that was theirs will become ours."

"Not in this lifetime," said Shahrayar. And so saying, he stepped out from behind the vine. At the sight of the friend he had so betrayed, the queen's lover fell to his knees.

"My gracious lord, forgive me!" he cried. "See how I have been bewitched! But now that I behold you here before me, I regain my senses once more. Tell me how I may serve you and it shall be done!"

"Be silent, fool!" Shahrayar's wife hissed. "Do not humble yourself so before him. Rather let us be bold and make an end of things here and now."

So saying, she raised the dagger high. But before she could strike, Shazaman stepped from his place of concealment and wrested the dagger from her, knocking her to the ground. Then with one swift stroke, Shazaman stabbed the queen's lover through his traitor's heart. His blood ran freely, forming a great pool around him. The queen knelt before her husband, her lover's blood staining her fine robes.

"Two choices lie before you," Shahrayar said as he looked upon her, and his voice was both stern and cold. "You may die by my hand, or by your own."

But the queen was defiant, even in defeat. "Give me the dagger," she commanded Shazaman. "I shall die by my hand and no other." At a nod from his brother, Shazaman placed the dagger in the queen's hand.

Then she rose and faced Shahrayar.

"My trials may end tonight, but yours are just beginning, husband. For now you know that even the most deadly of desires may be concealed in the heart you trust the most.

"Until you have found a woman whose heart you can see truly and therefore know it—one who can do the same with yours—you will find no peace by day or by night. Think well on these words, and remember me when I am gone."

So saying, she put an end to her life.

And thus began the trials of King Shahrayar.

Chapter 4

H O W S H A H R A Z A D I S B O L D

You shift a little in your chair, making yourself more comfortable. But what, you ask yourself, of Shahrazad? Is this not supposed to be her story? Yet she has been absent for many pages now. Surely it is time to see her again.

Patience. Though you have not seen her, she has not been idle, nor has she been forgotten. She has merely been waiting for the proper place to re-enter the story. If you look carefully, you can even see it approaching.

For many days following the death of his queen and her lover, Shahrayar behaved as always. So truly did he appear as he had always been that not even Shazaman, who loved him dearly and knew him well, could discover that there was anything wrong. So the time of Shazaman's visit drew to an end, and he departed for Samarkand once more.

But, at his brother's leaving, a change came over Shahrayar. He shut himself in the highest tower of the palace. For many days and nights, he did not come down. The sun rose and set, and rose and set again, and still Shahrayar did not come down. Some nights, the lamps burned in the tower from dusk till dawn. On still others, great bolts of lightning shot from sky to tower, and from tower to sky. And finally there came a series of nights where no lights shone forth. All within the tower was as still as death. And those were the most terrible nights of all.

Great was the fear Shahrayar's people had for him. It was whispered that he was dabbling in black magic, consulting strange and mystical signs. But when at last Shahrayar came down from the tower, the people knew a new fear—and this fear was for themselves.

For the king was as a stranger. Never had they looked upon his like before. The fact that in outward form and body he still resembled Shahrayar meant nothing. For his heart had altered so irretrievably that none could recognize it. And in this way . . . it had been turned to stone.