Beneath a Marble Sky by John Shors Read Free Book Online Page B

and merchants on Father’s behalf. Although the lords often resented these conversations, on occasion I sensed their eyes drifting greedily about my body. At first, I was uneasy with such glances, but as time passed I learned that lust is one of man’s most glaring weaknesses. Mother, at my insistence, secretly taught me of these matters. She explained how a man’s body worked. She told me of his needs and, most important, of his desires.
    Mother embarrassed me immensely by making me practice social graces with Nizam. For instance, she dressed him like a lord and asked that I serve him wine. I then attempted to pry information from him with little more than idle chatter. Though Nizam tried his best to act the part, he often smiled at my blunders and halting sentences. But with time and much practice, his smiles lessened in frequency. I slyly tricked him into confessions. I asked questions that any vain man must answer, no matter how resolute his intentions.
    Equipped with confidence, I was ready to speak with nobles who Mother claimed were attracted to me. Most men thought my youth and sex made me as threatening as a toothless cobra. They grew gallant when I pretended bashfulness, told me secrets when I prepared to walk away. As the Emperor, Father could have controlled these men in any manner he wished, but it seemed he’d rather sweeten them with honey than subdue them with his fist. And so I wooed them.
    Father watched my progress vigilantly. Though Hindustan had prospered under his rule, that prosperity also reflected Mother’s engagement. She despised war, and because of her influence upon Father, we no longer spent precious gold and lives trying to expand northward, deeper into the land of our enemy, the Persians. Instead, we fortified our borders. We built roads and bridges. We became rich through trade. Naturally, many men still wanted to war against our foes, but these were the sort I was sent to sweeten. I often found myself chatting with them, innocently feeding their egos, or those of their disregarded wives.
    I’d have learned none of these skills if not for Mother. She counseled me on countless matters—about our laws, for instance, or which nobles were friends and which were foes. She could tell me the traits of anyone important—whether they were tolerant of Hindus, whether they preferred to bed girls or boys. With equal relish I learned of their fears and their desires. Both, I was trained, were of consequence.
    My brothers also studied these things, though in a different manner. To my surprise, only Aurangzeb took such lessons seriously. While Shah and Murad chased skirts, and Dara devoured philosophers’ works, Aurangzeb made his rounds in the court, befriending many of our leaders, especially the officers of our army. They liked him, for the taller he grew, the more he spoke of war’s merits, of how it strengthened our empire.
    Aurangzeb delighted in undoing much of my work. If I befriended someone significant, turned him into a column upon which we could build things, Aurangzeb acted like the wind, subtly pushing against the column, forcing the soil from beneath it. I rarely even knew it had collapsed until weeks after the fact.
    Dara, to my dismay, cared little for statecraft. Though Father’s favorite son, and therefore heir presumptive, his loves were the arts. And while Father adored poets, painters, architects and scholars, he also understood that they only enhanced the quality of our lives and were not the grain upon which our empire feasted.
    The first time I ever spoke to Dara of his shortcomings he paid me as much heed as he might the dirt beneath his feet. It was late in the day, and after finishing our studies and prayers we’d retired to one of the largest gardens in the Red Fort.
    The best of our gardens served to remind us what lay ahead, if we lived virtuously, that the Garden of Paradise was perpetually lush and infinitely enchanting. The sanctuary we sat in now was called