Emissary

by Fiona McIntosh

  The battle had begun.

  ANA ENTERED THE DIVAN suite to the sounds of rapturous welcome as the other odalisques rushed to touch her gown, her precious jewels, her polished skin that was dusted with a powder that made it glow, and her shining golden hair. She was dressed in a shimmering pale blue outfit that was little more than gauze, just as Herezah had envisaged. It was edged with silver and dusted with diamond glitter, so that her every movement, however slight, made her entire body sparkle. Her hair was worked up in a delicately wrought silver clasp, studded with diamonds, and after Salmeo had finished with her, he had ordered further piercings for her ears. These were now hung with diamond drops and sapphires. Her nose had also been pierced twice and the curiously slight injuries—for all that pain—were now covered by diamond studs. Ana took grim amusement in the thought that had this been the middle of the day and not early evening, no one would have been able to look at her for fear of being blinded by her dazzling presence.

  Ana knew that the girls would need a few moments to express their wonder, but the sounds of appreciation continued to escalate rather than lessen and so she begged them to stop. She did not enjoy this celebrity and her mind was again filled with the notion of escape. Ana knew the risk was huge; knew it was going against the promises she had made to Lazar, to Pez, even to the Valide. To fail in her bid this time would mean death, but the prize for success would be freedom, and after her meeting with Salmeo earlier, death did not frighten her. If she made it out she had already decided that she wouldn’t go home. There would be no point. The palace would hunt her down and Salmeo would likely have her family killed out of spite. No, she had no home anymore. Instead, she would head west—perhaps to Merlinea where she had been told Lazar came from. The west still respected Lyana and perhaps she could find a convent or temple to take her in for a while. If they would have her, she might live the life of a priestess.

  She came out of her musings as a youngster called Prem grabbed her arm, gushing, “The bundle women are coming soon as a special treat for us.”

  “I know, I’m looking forward to it, too,” Ana said, trying not to show just how earnestly she meant it. “Did you all have a wonderful day on the water?”

  That set off a chorus of conversation that Ana was pleased to lose herself in whilst she nervously awaited the arrival of the bundle women. One of the Elim, a man called Olam, whom she liked, sidled up to her.

  “Miss Ana.”

  “Yes?”

  “We are to escort you to the Zar’s chambers at nightfall.”

  “I will see the bundle women with the rest of the girls, won’t I?” she asked, feigning anxiety about her harem companions. “It’s just, I missed out on the river barging with them.” Ana’s only thought now was for the arrival of the bundle women and not missing them.

  He nodded reassuringly. “Yes, Miss Ana. I will collect you as soon as the bundle women have departed. You will miss your evening meal, but the Grand Master Eunuch felt it was best you go to the Zar empty rather than full.”

  Ana smiled wanly and nodded, covering her lap with her folded hands—the only modesty she could provide for herself. Olam’s eyes, however, did not waver from her own.

  “Can I organize something light for you before the bundle women come, Miss Ana?”

  “I’m not hungry, Olam.”

  “I understand,” he said, backing away after a short bow.

  “Not hungry? I’m starving,” Prem groaned.

  Sascha, sitting nearby, laughed. “You’ve been eating all day, Prem. You’d better watch yourself or you’ll get fat and the Zar will never want to lie with you like he does with Ana. Then you’ll never have a chance at being a wife, or giving him an heir.”

  Prem looked mortified by the threat, and Ana felt equally embarrassed, but for other reasons. The girls were taking this all so lightly. Was she the only one who feared the Zar’s touch? No, she knew that wasn’t true. They would all be as frightened as she their first time with a man, but her feelings went deeper; Ana did not want to be bedded by Boaz, whereas they all apparently did. She had listened to them talk about his handsome looks and wonder at what it would be like to be alone with him. They had all accepted their roles as odalisques and were planning ahead to their own special first nights with the Zar. As Sascha’s comment attested, some of the older ones were already thinking about children—about trying to give him an heir quickly.

  But she was revolted by the thought. And it was not because she was too young, too frigid, or too uninterested in sexual liaison. None of that was relevant. There was only one obstacle, and its name was Lazar. Lazar was the only man she wanted to touch her—the only man she wanted to touch tenderly in return. Although, she thought wryly, if it were true that Lazar was alive, any chance she had to touch him might be squandered in the form of a punch. She had put the simmering thought of his lies about his death to the back of her mind for the past few hours but now it had erupted to wound her again. And Pez was in on the lie, and that meant Zafira was, too…and Jumo? Had Jumo rushed off to Merlinea to find Lazar’s kin, as Boaz had explained, or was that all part of the elaborate ruse? She blinked back a tear of self-pity and forced a bright smile onto her face.

  “Well, at least you’ll have the benefit of my experience with the Zar,” she said amiably to the small crowd that had gathered around the conversation. “I can tell you what he likes.”

  Over the sound of laughter, Prem’s voice suddenly rang out. “The Elim are arriving! The bundle women must be here.”

  Squeals of childish joy exploded from the younger girls, while the older odalisques, more demure, stood, gathering close to Ana, to await at a polite distance. All the girls had veiled themselves without having to be asked. Though it was not strictly necessary, the Valide had insisted they get into the habit so that it became instinctive.

  Right enough, behind the first four Elim came a motley assortment of brightly dressed women, all veiled—as was traditionally expected within the palace confines—and carrying the enormous bundles they were famous for.

  “The Grand Master Eunuch said we can have whatever we want. The palace will settle the bill,” Sascha whispered.

  “Very generous,” Ana replied tartly, inwardly sighing at how easily Salmeo manipulated the harem. But her only concern now was finding the right woman. She bit her lip in consternation at the worrying thought that she and Kett had not even planned how the woman would recognize her. Ana had to presume that Kett would have given a detailed enough description that the woman would be able to pick her out, and for the first time that evening she was grateful for the sheerness of the garments she was draped in. Her face, along with the rest of her body, was clearly visible.

  She watched the girls peeling off from the main group to look at the various trinkets, fabrics, scarves, even some wooden toys for the youngest in the harem. The Elim had departed but would wait just outside the divan suite, leaving the various eunuch servants to watch from a discreet distance.

  Ana saw a woman dressed in darker robes approach, her face fully veiled save for a tiny slit for her eyes. She held her breath. This was it. She had no idea how they were going to do this or even if it could be pulled off, but she cast a prayer to Lyana to guide her in this daring move. She nodded carefully at the woman.

  The woman nodded back and surreptitiously pointed to an area in the suite that had a number of marble pillars. Ana understood. She beckoned to the woman to lay out her wares in and around the pillars. “I believe it’s less crowded over here,” she said aloud for good measure.

  The stranger hefted the huge bundle from her back to the floor and Ana noticed her black hands, her fingers shaking as she untied the knot that held all the goods within. Finally they spilled out.

  “Ribbons,” Ana commented nervously, for want of anything better to say.

  The woman looked up, regarded her from behind the veil. “No one else but you wants them,” said a voice she recognized.

  Taken aback, Ana stared into th
e dark eyes she could just see behind the veil. “Kett?”

  The figure nodded. “I’ll explain later. Now just do as I tell you.”

  Ana was too flustered to think straight, but hope surged. She had been worrying that the woman would not be able to carry her, but Kett was easily strong enough.

  She watched him spread out his dozens of ribbons, stealing a glance around the room. Everyone was occupied; even the servants were distracted. She wondered why the Elim had so curiously left the room but could only thank Lyana that they had. “Kett,” she whispered, “no one is paying me any attention.”

  “Yes, we are fortunate. But there’s going to be a distraction as we draw close to the end of the session. I suggest you go and look at the other wares—make yourself noticed.”

  Ana did so, strolling around behind the other girls, who were fingering the trinkets. She took her time, finally arriving behind Sascha, who was intrigued by a tiny red bean that one of the sellers was showing her. Ana moved closer to look. The bean was no larger than her own small fingernail and a tiny part of its top had been cut away and replaced by a beautifully shaped lid of ivory that fit snugly into the gap. She couldn’t imagine anyone carving anything so small. The woman now expertly removed the lid and tipped the contents from the bean into Sascha’s palm.

  Both girls gasped with pleasure to see at least a dozen or more fragile, exquisitely carved elephants. They were so tiny that Ana had to squint to make them out.

  Sascha was kneeling and now turned to look at Ana. “Aren’t they breathtaking?”

  “How does one work on anything that small? They must carve looking through a magnifying glass.”

  The woman nodded and Ana could see her grinning tooth-lessly through her soft veil.

  “Very good price for you,” she encouraged, holding one of the beans out to Ana.

  “Take one,” Sascha urged. “We both will.”

  “Yes, why don’t you have one of those lovely items,” Salmeo suddenly said from behind her, the waft of violets sickening as it enveloped her.

  Ana froze. How could she not have heard him arriving behind her? Why was he here? Surely it was not yet time! She forced herself not to look toward Kett for fear of giving him away. Instead she took a steadying breath and turned to face her nemesis.

  “I have nowhere to put it, Grand Master Salmeo, as you can see,” she said, defying him to stare at her painted nipples, clearly visible through her gauzy gown.

  But Salmeo accepted her challenge and proudly swept his gaze appreciatively across her body. “My dear, fret not, I shall have it sent to your chamber immediately. Does anything else take your fancy?” His lisp was worst when he was in his flirtatious mood.

  “I have not finished looking yet, Grand Master Eunuch.”

  “Carry on, then,” he replied sweetly, his tongue flicking out between the gap in his teeth as he smiled fondly at her. “Take all you want, Ana. Tonight is yours, but be ready, for Olam will come for you shortly.” He made to leave and then turned back for a parting shot. “I hope you’re not too sore from our intimate time together this afternoon,” and gave her no chance to respond.

  Seething, she watched the huge man lightly glide away. A nagging thought flickered in the back of her mind, but she was distracted by a beckoning sign from Kett. The best way to hurt Salmeo was to beat him at his own game of cunning.

  She held up her bean at the bundle woman. “May I?”

  The woman nodded enthusiastically and immediately Sascha and several other girls began clamoring for some of the bright red beans. Ana took her chance and the added precaution of tapping Sascha on the shoulder and saying over the cacophony, “Excuse me a moment, I must relieve myself.”

  “Hurry,” Sascha replied. “There isn’t much longer before they leave, you’ll miss everything,” and turned back to the trinkets, saying, “Oh, look at this!” as she found another interesting item.

  Ana returned to Kett. “I’m not sure we can risk you in this,” she warned. Her voice shook. “Not now that Salmeo—”

  “Forget about me, Miss Ana.” He cut across her words. “I am here now and no one suspects. If you wish to go, let us do it. If you have second thoughts, or are scared, I can leave with the other women and no one will be any the wiser.”

  “I’m not scared for me,” she admonished in a whisper. “I’m worried for you.”

  “Don’t be. This is my path. The path of sorrows.”

  Caught off guard by his comment, Ana opened her mouth to question it just as a squeal went up behind them. Ana swung around to see that a bundle woman had brought in a basketload of kittens. A veritable army of tiny cats was scattering in all directions and the girls as well as bundle women and servants were giving chase.

  “Now!” Kett demanded, pushing her toward the huge square of cloth. “Curl up tight!”

  Ana had no time to reconsider. She leaped into the middle of Kett’s bundle and within moments found herself encased in the gloom of his musty-smelling wares. She was careful to ensure that no elbow or toes pointed anywhere and held herself as small and as round as she could. She knew she was very supple; it was a game she’d played with her father—she never thought of him as a stepfather, even though he had found her as an orphan—he’d roll her around their hut just like a ball. She used that talent now to make herself invisible in the bundle.

  She could hear the commotion around her as the cats were noisily rounded up. Above her she could sense Kett fiddling with the bundle and securing the knot that would keep her from falling out. She guessed his activity also made him look less conspicuous.

  A gong sounded and signaled the end of the bundle women’s visit. Soft sighs of disappointment greeted the gong and then she could hear men’s voices as the Elim began to hurry the bundle women out of the divan suite.

  “Where is Odalisque Ana?” she heard one ask. It was Olam.

  Ana held her breath. This was it. Both she and Kett would be impaled as a result of another of her reckless, selfish acts.

  But then she heard Sascha’s voice. “Ana went to relieve herself. She came and told me just a few moments ago, so she shouldn’t be long.”

  “I shall be back to fetch her. There are some traditional rituals we must adhere to for the First Virgin before we take her to the Zar. Please tell her…”

  Ana never heard what she was supposed to be told by Sascha, for Olam’s voice faded into the distance as Kett hurried away and she settled in as best she could for the bumpy ride.

  ZAFIRA FLED, DOING HER best to escape up the stairs from the advancing Grand Vizier, but at her age and with her knees no longer capable of such punishment, she gave way after about six steps, all but collapsing under her own weight.

  Maliz was in no hurry. As he strolled up the stairs to where she lay, he made a tut-tutting sound of exasperation that he had had to go through this drama. There was no longer any need for pretense on his part. “Where did you think you might run to, old woman?” He grabbed her bony ankle and ruthlessly pulled her backward down the stairs, her chin, ribs, and elbows smashing savagely against the stone. He smiled to hear her shrieks of pain.

  At the bottom he flipped her over, took a fistful of her robe, and pulled her up to face him, deriving pleasure from her ragged breathing.

  Zafira found the courage to open her eyes, and Maliz was surprised to see nothing but defiance in those rheumy orbs. Gone was the fear, and definitely gone was the pretense. His prisoner moved her head to stare at the statue of the Goddess behind him and she began murmuring a prayer to Lyana.

  He shook her as a hunting dog might shake its quarry once it is caught, but she ignored him, continued with her prayer, finally finishing with a beatific smile.

  “I am done, Maliz. Do what you will.” Her voice was as cold as the pillar he had shoved her up against.

  Maliz snarled and pushed her harder against the pale stone. “You name me, Priestess. I’m impressed. I thought your lips might burn to say it.”

  She snarled back thr
ough her agony, “Enjoy your small victory, demon. It is pathetic and will be your last.”

  He laughed, and threw her down to the floor, hearing a brittle bone somewhere in her body protest with a snap. He kicked her viciously, that same shard of bone now puncturing through her skin, obviously slashing through a lung as well, going by the gush of blood from her mouth. She shrieked once and then wept silently, her mouth opened in a silent scream as blood and spittle continued to puddle on the floor beneath her.

  “Your end is close, Priestess. Just listen to your breathing. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself?”

  “How?”

  “Tell me who she is.”

  “And then what?” She sneered through the pain, her voice gurgling with the liquid in her throat.

  “I shall snap your neck in an instant and you will suffer no more.”

  “And if I keep my secret?”

  “You will die in agony.”

  “And you think that scares me?”

  “It should.”

  Maliz was impressed by her courage when she spoke again through her pain. “She has spoken to me, comforted me with the knowledge that she will prevail this time. You are as good as dead, Maliz, so enjoy your last conquest. My death is meaningless, for my work is already done. You are too late.”

  Maliz knew he was being baited, but still he couldn’t ignore her derision. He kicked her as hard as he could, relishing the cracking sound as more ribs gave way beneath his foot.

  “How does that feel, Priestess?”

  Unbelievably to his ears, she laughed, although blood flew from her mouth. “Each blow speeds me closer to my Goddess. Lyana is mocking you, Maliz.”

  “Who are your companions?”

  Her scorn came out as a gurgle of blood that rattled in her throat and spilled from her nose as well as her mouth. “All of Percheron.”

  This time Maliz picked her up and threw her against a pillar with a sickening crunch. He knew it was idiotic to kill the only link he had to Iridor and Lyana, but his need for bloodletting and venting his anger had to be answered. She looked to be dead—was certainly almost gone to her god.