“I agree,” Boaz said. “Kett, I have no choice in this but to get my palace in order. I will not brook this sort of disobedience. I demand loyalty. You understood the consequences, I’m sure, of your actions.”
“I did, Highness, and the truth is I would do it again for Miss Ana,” Kett replied, the brave words belying his stricken expression.
Boaz nodded. “I admire your courage, Kett. You will be ganched tomorrow at noon, your body tossed onto the death hooks to squirm and die. May the hooks find their mark and kill you swiftly.”
“No, Boaz!” Ana begged.
He ignored her. “Take him away,” he commanded the Elim standing nearby.
Without farther ceremony, the young eunuch was pulled to his feet and hurried from the room, without so much as a chance to say farewell to Ana, although his sorrowful gaze over his shoulder said enough.
Ana felt the hot tears sliding down her face. “You brute! You are callous like your mother, Zar Boaz. I can only pity you and the people of Percheron.”
Without warning Herezah stepped up and slapped the kneeling odalisque with such force that Ana toppled sideways. “Don’t you dare take his or my name in vain. You are nothing!” she spat, in a rare emotional outburst. “You are not worthy so much as to look upon him again. Slut!”
“Mother,” Boaz warned. “Step back or return to your chambers.”
“My son, I will no longer listen to these filthy words from this girl. You have heard what she has done this day and let me add that I, too, witnessed her kissing the half-naked black eunuch. All our sacred rules have been flouted by this one girl since her arrival. You have no choice but to take punitive measures, as your father before you would have done. I shall take my leave,” she finished, breathing hard, eyes glittering furiously as she took a lingering look at her son before formally dropping a low curtsy. She straightened, shot a final scathing glance at Ana, and left without another word.
Ana was initially surprised that the Valide did not want to witness Boaz’s declaration as to his odalisque’s fate. But then she realized that this was Herezah’s great strength. She understood restraint—she grasped the intimate complexity of situations and how to play people off against one another. Leaving as she had done—as much as it would have galled her—still gave her an air of nobility; washing her hands of the wretched girl who had brought the harem into disrepute and washing her hands of the whole sorry situation, as though she was no party to it. Herezah was too clever. Ana should have spent more time learning from her rather than clashing with her.
It was too late now. In the silence, Ana pushed Boaz still further. She would not live again under the harem rules and, true to herself, would rather die than be returned to Salmeo and Herezah’s care. “You should listen to your mother, Boaz. Haven’t you always? You probably always will.”
Salmeo looked set to explode into laughter. It was obvious he had never heard anyone speak to a Zar with the disdain that this slip of a girl was allowing herself this evening.
Seething beneath the huge eunuch’s not-very-well-disguised mirth, Boaz snapped, “It seems you have a death wish, Odalisque Ana, that you would provoke me so.”
“Pronounce sentence, Zar Boaz, I tire of this audience.”
Boaz swallowed. She knew she left him no choice and Salmeo’s delight in his Zar’s discomfort was all too plain to read on the eunuch’s face. Ana had played the Zar better, though; the future security of the royals was doomed if a mere odalisque could influence a Zar to back down. She held her breath as he took a steadying one and found his voice.
“Odalisque Ana, it is my painful task to advise that you will be escorted from here to the palace pits. Tomorrow at dawn you will be taken from there, secured in a weighted velvet bag, rowed out on one of the barges to a private spot on the river, and drowned.” He paused and Ana understood that even in his anger he had chosen the least painful death he could contrive…but it was still execution that he was obliged to order. “And there at the bottom of the royal river I hope you find peace and the people you have lost.”
Ana nodded. Those were the first meaningful words she had heard during this meeting. “Thank you, Zar Boaz. I shall be reunited with my uncle Horz and Kett—all of us executed on your order. I shall be candid with you. I am not afraid to die. I am more afraid to live.”
Boaz turned to the eunuch. “Salmeo, leave us. I wish to say something to Ana in private. Make arrangements to have her taken to the pits in a few moments.”
Salmeo’s tongue flicked out between the gap in his teeth to wet his lips and then say something, but then he obviously changed his mind. “At once, Highness,” he lisped.
When the huge man had departed, Boaz offered Ana his hand to help her to her feet.
She took his gracious offer silently. “I want you to know that I am deeply sorry, Zar Boaz, for all the displeasure I have caused you personally. I meant you no insult. You have been nothing but generous to me.”
He regarded her through angry, wounded eyes. “Odalisque Ana, I cannot accept that apology. And I must tell you this before you go. No one else knows of this yet. You could say it is my parting gift to you on a night when I aimed to make you my wife.” She bit her lip, unsure of what was coming. “You may well be reunited with Horz of the Elim, as you say. I hope so. Kett will join you later, of course. But in case you were hoping, you will not find Lazar anywhere near your watery grave, Ana, no matter how hard you search.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting with dread anticipation, somehow knowing she was receiving the confirmation of what she believed to be true.
“I mean that he is alive. I am seeing him in a few hours.”
“Alive?” she whispered.
Boaz nodded. “Pez found him.” Ana found she could not speak as the truth of her fears of betrayal by two of her few allies settled like lead weights around her. “I’m sure Lazar will be devastated to learn that all his efforts to preserve your life with his own were in vain. Guard!”
“No, wait!”
“Too late, Ana. I have adored you since I first saw you and I would have treated you with kindness and tenderness all of your life. Your disdain for me and my position wounds me deeply; I suppose now I must learn to heal.”
The door opened and the Elim moved in, ready to escort Ana to the palace pits.
IRIDOR ALIGHTED ON THE spire above the grisly scene and he changed instantly to Pez so the tears could spill. He wept for his friend, he wept for her suffering, and he wept for all the supporters of Lyana.
Zafira’s life was the first to be lost in the battle. Though he knew it would not be the last, this was cold comfort as he looked down upon the tiny figure, broken, bloodied, and impaled upon her own temple’s new spire.
As if in respect for his grief, a cloud scudded across the sky and blocked the moonlight, casting the owl and the body into darkness. Pez gingerly moved down beside Zafira. He kissed her cool cheek and was alarmed when she gasped.
“Zafira!”
“Ah, Pez,” she whispered. “He came for me.”
“Don’t talk, I’ll—”
“Listen!” she croaked, coughing blood in her struggle. He held her head, as she no longer had the strength to do anything but remain slumped until she died. It was a wonder she had survived as long as she had. “He asked a lot of questions about you.” Her breath was ragged. “I put him off your scent as best I could.”
“How?”
“By letting him hurt me and then making him think I was begging to tell him who Iridor is.”
Pez felt his tears begin to flow again as she somehow, unbelievably, gave a pained burst of a laugh. “Who did you accuse?”
“Salmeo,” she whispered. She took one last, shuddering breath and then was still, a smile on her face.
“Lyana speed you to her,” Pez said reverently, and then set about his ghoulish task of lifting Zafira’s near weightless body off the sharp spire.
Pez gave Zafira’
s body to the sea, near the temple to which she had dedicated her life. When it was done he climbed back up the stairs to sit out on the roof, where he said another prayer for her soul and her sacrifice before once again returning to his owl shape.
Perched on the spire that had finally taken his friend’s life, he could see a small boat being rowed across by a single man.
ANA SAT ON THE cold ground of the area of the palace known as the pits and trembled. She groaned, wished Lazar had never come to her home in the foothills. Wished he had never come into her life.
He was alive. She hugged her knees tighter and allowed herself the luxury of self-pity. With only this night left in her life, what did it matter if she filled the hours with tears. She had no reason to be strong, no one to be strong for anymore. She welcome death, for everyone she had trusted since leaving her home had betrayed her—both the man she loved and the dwarf she had considered her closest friend. She hated them both in that moment, even more than Herezah or Salmeo. At least she had always known the propensity of the latter two for treachery. But Lazar and Pez! She wept harder and prayed that dawn would come fast and finish the misery.
Lyana indeed! If she was Lyana, where was the magic that might take her away from all this?
“DEAD?”
Pez nodded. He was back in his dwarf form, having flown down to the boat. Lazar had not been surprised to see him, but Pez’s news had stopped his friend from rowing any farther. They drifted for the moment as the former Spur digested the tidings. “I’ve just given her corpse to the sea. I thought it was fitting,” Pez added.
“So he’s declaring himself,” Lazar mused, his voice morose.
“Not really. Maliz believes no one will ever know about Zafira and presumably he took steps to hide his actions. Certainly the temple’s the loneliest of places—no one would have disturbed them.”
“But we have the truth.”
“Yes, he doesn’t know this, of course. He thinks Salmeo is Iridor.” He laughed bitterly. “Of course, the Grand Master Eunuch would make an incredibly big owl.”
“Cunning Zafira,” Lazar said. “Courageous to the last.”
“True. If you saw what a mess her body was, you’d understand just how brave she was.”
“So this is the beginning?”
“Yes. First blood to the demon. Not the last, I’m sure.”
Lazar didn’t respond to this comment. “You’ve spoken to Boaz?”
“We’ve put our differences behind us, or so he believes. He thinks I’m suffering jealousy over his ‘friendship’ with Tariq, or Maliz, I should say. Poor Boaz, if only he knew.”
“Would it make any difference?”
Pez frowned. “You’re right, probably not—how can we expect him to understand that Lyana is rising to battle it out with Maliz again. He is dealing with Tariq the Grand Vizier and obviously responding well to the man’s counsel, whilst we now see him only for the snake he is…the demon in disguise.”
“We have to be careful that the counsel he gives is not detrimental to you or Ana.”
“Or you.”
Lazar looked up from the oar he had been gently maneuvering to prevent them from turning in circles as they drifted.
“I’ve told you, you are as much a target as I am.”
“I don’t think so, Pez.”
“Still believe you’re a coincidence, eh?”
Lazar nodded, although he didn’t look completely confident.
“We’ll see. In the meantime, your Zar was shocked at my news of your being very alive, of course, but he was also thrilled. He wants to see you in secret in a few hours. You must arrive hooded.”
Lazar nodded again. “And Ana?”
“I have not seen her,” Pez said, and offered no more. “Are you all right to keep rowing?”
“I’m not an invalid!”
Pez bristled at Lazar’s angry mood. “Good, because once Herezah learns the truth, she’ll start warming her bed for you,” he replied.
15
The Grand Vizier sipped the sweetened wine and eyed his Zar, who seemed restless, distracted. “Yes, as I was saying, I had some business to attend to in the city. And I gather there’s been some excitement in my absence.”
Boaz turned from the window, tearing his gaze from the Sea Temple. “Excitement? I suppose you could call sentencing two people I like to hideous deaths exciting.”
“I’m sorry, my Zar, that was tactless of me. This task seems to be a habit for you.”
“Odalisque Ana is my First Chosen. I had hoped to make her a Favorite; more, perhaps.”
“You are that fond of her? Already?”
“She is my equal,” he replied softly. And when the Vizier raised his eyebrows at the comment, Boaz explained, “Not in status, obviously. But her mind is sharp and agile. She is mysterious. Her peers are like open books that are read without much interest, whilst Ana is closed, fascinating. The others are also vain, already scheming for my attention, whilst Ana—easily the most beautiful—is hardly aware of the effect she has on me. I could never be bored around her.”
“My, my, that sounds like a woman to hang on to.”
“Except she’s determined to shun this role in the harem. I simply can’t save her from herself.”
Maliz realized which woman he was talking about. Although he hadn’t met her, Tariq’s memories gave him the knowledge he needed. He remembered now talking to Tariq during the preparations for the Spur’s flogging—which had come about because of this same woman. An intensely exquisite-looking woman, he recalled. “What happened?”
“She attempted another escape.” Boaz smiled in spite of his mood, sounded almost proud to the Vizier. “Truly audacious this time. She could have gotten away with it if not…”
“If not for?”
“Salmeo. My mother, too, I suspect.”
Maliz’s inward sneer at the mention of the fat eunuch nearly showed itself, but he reined in his reaction. “Why would the Valide have any interest in the girl?”
“She has every interest in who I might eventually take for a wife. I think she might have feared this was happening too early.”
“Zars far younger than you have taken wives, Majesty.”
“But they didn’t have Herezah for a mother, Tariq. I could be wrong but I imagine my mother sees every potential lover of mine as a wife and thus a threat to her own power. It has only been a year since I took the throne. I would hazard she had hoped for a little longer to build her own empire.”
“Your choosing Favorites, wives, even siring heirs, is not something your mother can avoid for long.”
Boaz looked awkward at the thought of children so soon. “No, but with Ana it was probably happening too fast. It’s true I would have elevated her quickly.”
“And death is unavoidable?”
“You know the rules, Tariq.”
“Not of the harem necessarily.”
“Attempted escape is one of the worst sins, but the worst—in the eyes of the harem down the ages—is commiting adultery, cuckolding the Zar.”
“She didn’t!” Maliz exclaimed, outwardly sympathetic but privately delighted by the tale.
“No, I don’t believe she did, but she refuses to defend herself against the claim, and both Salmeo and the Valide unfortunately discovered her in a very compromising position. What they saw can’t be argued unless Ana herself can prove otherwise.”
“A very twisted web. And so she and the person who helped her escape must die, I’m presuming.”
Boaz’s expression melted from suppressed to open pain. “Correct. I have no choice, much in the same way as I had little choice with Horz. Ana has broken ancient, sacred rules not once but twice…and, indeed, so has Kett.”
“Kett?”
“The black eunuch. We grew up together, can you believe. We were playmates until my position in my father’s reckoning became all too obvious and my mother did not want us remaining close.” Boaz smiled sadly. “It’s strange, you know, when we wer
e little I had this whimsical notion that Kett reminded me of a bird. He used to flit around, always busy, always industrious…usually dreaming up games for us to play. My sorrowful little black bird.”
Something ticked in the back of Maliz’s mind but he was exhausted from his exertions at the temple, as well as mellowed from the wine coursing through his veins. He was already pouring a third cup, and he was having such fun with this tale of woe that he paid scant attention to the nudge of familiarity. “So, deaths at dawn, I’m guessing?” When his Zar gave him another look of exasperation at the heavy wit, he put up a hand to ward off the reprimand. “Forgive me, Highness, I don’t mean to be insensitive. But if I can help you look at this objectively, please permit me to say that this woman could have made a mockery of you. This cannot be tolerated. Your father ruled with a tough fist, my Zar, and you could do a lot worse than follow in those footsteps. Too much leeway in a place like the harem—a place that exists only because of a very rigid structure, an adherence to ritual and ancient rules—can bring down a dynasty if un-checked.” He saw Boaz’s skeptical look and shook his head. “No, hear me out. If the people sense that their Zar can’t control his own women, what respect do you think they’ll give the Crown? Your manner of ruling must begin with the harem.
“In truth, I like the way you’re creating your own traditions, but it would be dangerous, my Zar, to allow anyone—and I include Salmeo and the Valide in this respectfully—too much familiarity with you. The harem is the true seat of your power. It’s the secretiveness of it all that adds the luster to the names of the Zars of Percheron down the ages. The traditions, the structure, they must be protected at all costs, otherwise I feel you could be toppled from within.” He could tell Boaz was paying attention now. “At least no real harm has been done and you have an entire harem of no doubt unbelievably beautiful girls to work your way through. I saw them as youngsters but the older ones would have matured this past year. Truly, such incredible choice. It is far better to spread your seed amongst them than to become too devoted to one so early, especially one so head-strong, my Zar.”
Emissary Page 21
