Goddess

by Fiona McIntosh

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t important. I think he was probably emerging to relieve himself, stretch, I don’t know, and her presence perhaps startled him. They spoke briefly and Ana was smiling, the Vizier scratching. A coincidence, and in the scheme of what unfolded that night, inconsequential.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, he said he was disturbed. He mentioned this to Ana, and to her credit, she didn’t miss a beat, told him she’d tripped over one of his tent ropes or something.”

  “And he accepted it?”

  “What else could he do? She told him she’d just stepped away from the camp to relieve herself. It was a well-crafted and well-executed lie. She didn’t sound abashed, just apologetic for disturbing him.”

  “Well, good. She didn’t arouse any further mystery, then?”

  “No, but that’s my point, I’m embarrassed to say and only now recall. She never did.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “Well, it didn’t strike me at the time, but now that I’m thinking about it, I know that Ana arrived soundlessly. She made no noise. My hearing is exceptional, and I knew she was back in camp because I could sense her, not because I could see her or hear her.”

  “Am I being a dullard in not understanding what you’re saying?”

  “I’m saying that no noise disturbed the Grand Vizier and still he was woken from his deep sleep. I know he was sound asleep because I checked on him.” Lazar stared at the dwarf with incomprehension. Pez continued thinking aloud. “I don’t know what dragged him from his slumber but something did. Lyana!”

  “What now?” Lazar asked, alarmed that Pez had paled suddenly.

  “Perhaps his disturbance was more than coincidence, for just moments earlier I had vomited for no good reason and Ana had just stepped silently back into the camp.”

  “Ah, I get it. You’re on your Lyana pedestal again. That was one of the things we spoke of that night, Pez. Ana admits that she is not who you think she is. She feels saddened for you that you pursue this dream. And why would Lyana announce anything to Maliz anyway?”

  “Lyana, Iridor, Maliz. We are all helplessly connected. We do not necessarily choose to communicate but our lives our irrevocably bound. Something disturbed Maliz and Iridor when Ana was present–albeit silent.” Pez suddenly fell on all fours and began barking.

  Lazar deliberately turned away, striking a bored pose as he leaned over the balcony. He heard the click of a heel and the smell of perfume reached him before she did.

  “We’ll talk on this later,” Lazar whispered to Pez. The dwarf reared up on his legs and began beating his chest as the Valide swept onto the verandah.

  “Good morning, Lazar. You have lots of color in your face today.”

  “I feel the brightest I’ve felt in a while. It must be your fine care, Valide.”

  She demured with a soft shrug and a smile behind her veil. “Oh, begone with you, dwarf! Your noise is enough to set anyone’s health back.” She called behind her to an Elim who had followed her into Lazar’s chamber. “Please take Pez away. I wish a private conversation with the Spur.”

  The man nodded and urged Pez to follow. The dwarf meekly took the man’s hand, ambling at his side as the monkeys did with their handlers in the Zar’s zoo. He left quietly but not before loudly wiping his nose on the corner of the Valide’s silken shift.

  She shrieked, scowled at the Spur’s helpless amusement. “Why does he entertain you and Boaz with such vulgarity?”

  “It’s not him, it’s you, Valide. You give him so much fun to work with. In his addled mind he still seems to sense that he can provoke a loud reaction from you every time. You must learn to ignore him as we all do, then he’ll likely leave you alone.”

  “Why you tolerate him around you is beyond me. Has he been barking like that for long? It must set your nerves on edge.”

  “No. I hardly notice him. A lot of the time he sits quietly and picks his nose.”

  She made an involuntary sound of disgust before she noticeably softened. “Are you cold? Let me fetch you a blanket.”

  Lazar sat down. It was obvious this would be no fleeting visit and he dared not be rude after all her care. “Herezah, you don’t need to wait on me like this,” Lazar called over his shoulder, although he was grateful for the warmth when the soft rug was placed around him.

  Herezah had come to Lazar’s quarters this morning with a mission in mind. She had deliberately distracted the Elim with Pez and then left a message for that same Elim to run some errands for her. She was counting on him being kept busy for a while–long enough for her needs. She was also gambling with the notion that the more senior Elim would not realize that the single day and single night guard they maintained around the Spur were compromised. The guards were token, simply a show of respect toward the harem. The Elim trusted the Spur implicitly but it was a matter of principle, a man living relatively near to where the women were housed warranted the show of a guard. Herezah had earned the Elim’s respect these few moons, always seeing to it that the Elim were informed when she was visiting the Spur’s quarters, diligently ensuring that she was never without her escort. She neither removed her veil in the Spur’s company–even when he was too far gone in his fevers and hallucinations to be aware of anyone around him–nor touched him below his neck. Instead she supervised the Elim in this regard. Trust had been earned and she intended to take full advantage of her weeks of patience.

  She leaned against the railings, her back to the Faranel and her sheer, rather revealing costume for today ensuring that the full glory of her still-firm, voluptuous body was showcased for her guest. “But I enjoy looking after you,” she admonished in a lazy voice. “I’d be lying if I said I’d been happier in my life than these past five moons in caring for you.”

  “Please don’t say that aloud to anyone else. Don’t even say it to me again, I beg you.”

  “But why, Lazar? Why not to you?” She made her move, crouching near his side now, careful not to crowd him but close enough to place her hand over his. “Surely you cannot deny that I have always been honest with you about my feelings.”

  He shook his head. “It is unwise–”

  “Why? You are well now–or much fitter than a few moons back, when I swear to Zarab I thought we’d lost you. But–”

  Lazar surprised her by covering her hand with his own and she helplessly shivered at his touch. “And I haven’t thanked you for that. You saved my life but–”

  “You saved mine in the desert.”

  “That was my duty. Helping me back to good health has surely been unpleasant and you didn’t have to do it.”

  “No, but I’m glad I have. And yes, you do have to thank me, but do so properly. I don’t want your carefully chosen words, Lazar. I want you. Don’t look at me like that! I’ve never hidden my desire, and although we’ve often felt like enemies, for my part it was a result of frustration over how you ignore me.” She put her hand to his lips. “No, wait, let me finish. Every man has a sexual drive,” she urged, “every woman, too,” she added ruefully. “I am not bound by who I might take as a lover anymore–and you have no one in your life. I know I’m desirable to any man. If you didn’t have such a strong opinion about me, you would feel the same yearning. Why pay for a whore who has been with a dozen men before you that day alone when you can have me, untouched for so long, and at no charge? Why not satisfy us both? I will accept your thanks only once if that is all that’s offered. I promise, there will be no repercussions.”

  “Herezah,” he began, but again she stopped him.

  “I want nothing from you, Lazar, except your body riding mine. I’m not naive enough to think you might suddenly fall in love with me. This is about lust and relief, nothing more. I have never been with any man but the Zar and he was not out of choice–can you imagine what that’s like? I know you pay women, Lazar–not that you’d need to but I imagine it’s cleaner that way, no messy relationships attached; you choose with whom an
d when and where. An odalisque, a Zaradine, has no such choice. We are no better than whores but with none of their freedom. I will not lie to you; although I liked and respected Joreb, he disgusted me physically. What I did for him sexually I did out of duty. He gave me Boaz and I cannot regret that, but I am in my fourth decade, Lazar, and I might as well shrivel up and die soon if I don’t get some satisfaction for this magnificent body and its desires.” Her words had come out in such a torrent, and with such feeling, that she was breathing hard by the end of her monologue.

  She knew Lazar could see the perfect shape of her breasts, her dark nipples chafing at the gauze of her near-translucent linen chemise. If not for its loose cut, her body would have been naked to him. But she’d taken the added precaution of unfastening the front so Lazar could clearly view the rounded flesh, the inviting cleavage, the pulse at her throat. She was sure that at this close proximity to such an invitation any man would be victim to his own body’s betrayal, including the man of ice himself. And she was right. Herezah watched with untold delight the unmistakable swell beneath Lazar’s loose garments. She thrilled to the knowledge that she had finally won a response from him–and best of all, Lazar was well enough to be seduced and she was close enough to take advantage of him.

  This was the greatest risk she had taken since becoming Valide. The killing of the heirs, the persecution of Ana, the cunning and deception of so many years in the harem; all of it amounted to naught in comparison to this moment when Herezah, Valide Zara of Percheron, bared herself to the one person who could break the heart she had protected for nearly two decades. She moved her hand and placed it on that swell of his body, felt the answering throb beneath her fingertips, and could have wept.

  Instead she pressed her luck still further. “Even the Elim have left us alone. We are free to make our own choice. No one owns us, Lazar…and what’s more, no one cares.” Her voice was husky, sensual, and when he couldn’t react negatively to her touch, she took a further chance. “Thank me, Lazar, in the only way I’ll accept.”

  Herezah bent her head and placed her lips against his. She began tentatively, exploring his mouth gently. She tasted his reluctance; his lips were politely soft but unresponsive. But she was not to be deterred. She risked everything, gently squeezing the hand that was still nestled quietly in his lap. And won the response she’d dreamed of–Herezah felt the instant response in her palm and it was suddenly mirrored by the hungry yearning from his mouth. She knew any woman could probably achieve a similar reaction–couldn’t convince herself otherwise–but nevertheless she felt breathless at the knowledge that Lazar was finally beneath her. Determined not to shatter this fragile moment, she began working her fingers, working her tongue.

  Lazar groaned and Herezah celebrated inwardly.

  At last he was hers.

  Although they had been preparing for this moment, Boaz’s expression was still one of undisguised shock.

  “Anchored off the Isles of Plenty?” he repeated.

  Ghassal, the Spur’s deputy, bowed. “Yes, Majesty. We count more than thirty war galleys, more still arriving. One flies the royal pennon of Galinsea.”

  “Falza is here?” Boaz asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  “We do not know, Majesty. It could be one of the sons, but either way, Galinsean royalty is near to our waters. The Grand Vizier has given orders that I am personally to fetch you.”

  “We’re to make arrangements to meet with the royal, is that the plan?”

  “I am to take you on the barge.”

  “Barge?” Boaz frowned.

  “We go by river upstream, he says. A team of Elim will accompany you and–”

  “Ghassal!”

  “Majesty,” the man said, suddenly kneeling, arrested by the tone in his ruler’s voice.

  “Don’t you ever dare to presume that I do as the Grand Vizier bids. I am your Zar. You will follow my orders, or your Spur’s, not Tariq’s.”

  “Highness, I–”

  “You are a good man, Ghassal, and come highly recommended by the Spur, whose judgment I trust above any other man I know. Now live up to his expectations and mine.”

  The soldier adopted a chastened expression. “Forgive me, my Zar. How can I serve you, Highness?”

  “We must avoid confrontation as best we can–extend a hand of friendship, but not flee. That’s an open invitation for the Galinseans to sack the city. I don’t plan to fight them but fight them I will if we are cornered. In the meantime we will use every diplomatic weapon we can. Now, I shall be here to face King Falza whenever he is ready to enter our bay. He is permitted to bring only the royal galleon into the harbor.”

  “For now they are not coming closer but simply biding their time, Highness, it seems.”

  “They have intentionally made their presence known. They likely await our first move.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Nothing yet. I must speak with Lazar. Await my orders and tell the Grand Vizier I wish to see him. He is to await my pleasure.”

  The soldier bowed deeply as the Zar swept past him, calling for Bin. “Tell the Grand Master Eunuch I shall be visiting the Spur, who I assume is in the company of the Valide.”

  Lazar was gripped in Herezah’s fist. She pulled back from his mouth, her fingers rhythmically working, not allowing his helpless need for relief to wane. “Why waste this?” she said, impressed.

  “Herezah, don’t, I beg you.” His expression was one of pain and he was breathing shallowly, vainly trying to control his own lust.

  “I do enjoy it when you beg anything of me,” she murmured, her hand moving faster. “I want you inside me, Lazar.”

  “I…I.” He looked lost, almost panicked.

  Neither had heard the swish of the silks but both smelled sandalwood overlaid by the fragrance of violets.

  “Valide, I–” Salmeo’s words were cut off and a ghastly silence ensued as Herezah jumped back as if burned. “Oh,” Salmeo tittered, taking in the scene at once. “Oh my, forgive my interruption, Majesty. And, Spur, my sincere apologies. I really hadn’t expected you to be quite this…um, recovered,” he lisped.

  “Salmeo, how dare you just walk into the Spur’s chamber,” Herezah spat. “This is a private room and you will announce yourself in future.” She noticed that Lazar had not moved. His eyes were closed, his erection wilting, and this only served to intensify the fury she felt at being denied what had been rightfully hers.

  Her chest heaved with the angry words. “What the Spur and I choose to do–”

  Lazar’s voice cut across her. “We do not need this complication,” he said to her alone, and Herezah knew he was being kind, knew what he was truly saying was that he didn’t need her. She could see the relief in his eyes now that they were open. He was grateful for the interruption.

  “Salmeo, you will suffer for this,” she warned, unable to rein back her despair. Nothing, save the death of Boaz, could have upset her more than what had just occurred.

  The Grand Master Eunuch bowed, and adopted a virtuous expression. “I think you’ll both ultimately thank me for this intrusion–even though it seems so painful to you at this moment. I came to tell you that Zar Boaz is but moments away. He wishes to speak with the Spur and anticipated that you, Valide, would be with him. It would have been, um…” He paused deliberately, searching for the right word as the shock of what could have happened had the Zar discovered them registered with Herezah. “Let’s just say it might have been indelicate to have been found by the Zar in the same position I found you both. I suggest you reveil yourself, Valide, or risk the harem’s wrath, not to mention that of your Zar. I shall overlook it this time, put it down to your both still being traumatized from your experiences in the desert.” He grinned angelically, his tongue flicking between the gap in his teeth. Herezah hated him.

  Lazar stood, fully composed again. His expression gave the impression of a gathering storm. “Do not rebuke Her Majesty in my presence again, Salmeo. If you have someth
ing to say to her, say it in private. If you insult Her Majesty again in front of me, I shall draw my sword against you. Now leave, eunuch. I’m going to take a cool bath. Please excuse me, Valide,” he said, bowing softly to Herezah and striding to the connecting chamber, throwing off his shirt as he did.

  Herezah just had time to glimpse his torn back, a reminder of what she had helped perpetrate on this man she adored. She couldn’t decide in this moment of distress whether the recent intimacy with Lazar meant more to her than his referring to her as Majesty for the first time in their lives and his thrilling support for her. A year ago she was sure he would have sooner drowned himself in the Faranel than taken her side in any matter. Now he offered to kill for her. She felt her desire for him increase just thinking about it. Hurriedly she retied her veil, straightened her clothes, and began folding the blanket that had been tossed aside.

  “Go, Salmeo. We shall discuss this later,” she said, her own composure regained, and not a moment too soon.

  Boaz entered, talking over his shoulder to Bin, who halted at the entrance to the Spur’s suite.

  “My Lion, what a surprise,” Herezah said, continuing her slow folding of the blanket. “Did you wish to speak with Lazar?”

  “Mother,” Boaz replied, with a dutiful peck at her cheek. “You look flushed, are you well?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. I was just straightening out Lazar’s chamber. You men are so messy.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Boaz said, frowning. “We have servants to–”

  “No, but I like to. I know he’s getting the best care, and because of it, he is now fit to do your bidding, son.”

  “Where is he?”

  She shook her head absently. “I believe he’s bathing. I’ve only just arrived and sent that wretched Pez scampering. My Elim escorted the dwarf but should be back any moment. Would you like me to leave with Salmeo?”

  He looked at the bowed bulk of the eunuch. “No, this involves you as much as anyone else. Salmeo, you may go.”