“Because it’s true, Boaz,” she said matter-of-factly. “Lazar might have sold Ana into the harem but I’d wager he began regretting that move within the first few hours of knowing the girl. And he’s never stopped grieving over her loss. You, of course, don’t know any of this, but Lazar did everything he could to win her a special day of freedom from the harem each moon.”
Boaz blinked, as he always did when he was caught in a situation of deceit, and hoped his mother missed it. She must never know he had been a witness to Ana’s Choosing Ceremony. “I heard some rumor to that effect.”
“I see. And that doesn’t trouble you?”
“Why should it?”
“That he would die for her—that we all thought he did die for her—doesn’t surprise you?”
“He had no plans to die for her—he simply accepted her punishment, which was a whipping, not death. Like me, he railed against a rule that could impose such a harsh sentence on a young woman. I was unable to do anything more than commute the sentence to a lesser penalty. Lazar was far braver. He did the sort of thing my father admired him so much for, and it is why I feel the same way about our Spur. His poisoning was something entirely different. But to answer your question, no, I am not surprised that Lazar would take a flogging for Ana. If I could have, I think I would have, too.”
Herezah seemed at last unsettled. “Oh, Boaz, please. She’s a slave.”
“So are you.”
She wasn’t quick enough to stifle her gasp, but she kept her silence as they stared at each other across porcelain cups, each taking the other’s measure.
Boaz continued more softly; he hadn’t wanted this to turn into a confrontation. “She’s my wife. She is Zaradine and Absolute Favorite. Please don’t overlook that, Mother, whilst you’re away.”
Her voice remained quiet but the tone was all granite. “Boaz, may I remind you that in the harem she is still answerable to the rules set by its internal hierarchy.”
“Yes, I know. And I have no intention—not at this stage anyway—of changing that balance…” Boaz inwardly smiled as his mother blanched at his qualification. “But for the time being, Ana is out of the harem and traveling as diplomatic envoy for the Zar. In this regard she has exceedingly high importance and her status is equal to yours. You will not exert your formidable talent for derailing her when I need Ana using all of her emotion and eloquence in bargaining a peace for us.”
“And Lazar?” Her words sounded like a demand.
“What about Lazar?” he roared, his patience spent.
“Well.” Her expression told him she was unsure of her ground suddenly as she stammered slightly in the face of his obvious displeasure. “How do I handle that side of things?”
He regarded her with an expression of disbelief and no little disdain. “Do you really think Lazar is going to be handled—as you put it—by anyone? You’re in his domain, Mother. He knows the desert better than anyone—he survived crossing it from west to east, as you might recall. He will not be looking to be advised by you, or indeed by anyone. When this caravan leaves, there is only one person in charge…and it’s not you. Spur Lazar will make all the decisions.”
“But you understand my meaning, son, I’m sure,” Herezah said, and Boaz knew his mother, the clever chameleon, was trying a less confrontational approach.
“Are you asking me whether I give my authority for you to spy on Lazar and Ana? Are you asking whether I concede that I would be interested to find out if you can catch them in an indiscretion?”
“I’m asking you to take me seriously when I say that Lazar’s interest in Ana is not all avuncular, as everyone seems to think!” She had not raised her voice but there was a fresh crispness to it, reminding him that she was his mother and was due respect.
“I shall say this once only. I trust Ana to be true. I trust Lazar with my life, her life, your life, and the lives of all the Percherese. Does that make it clear enough?”
Herezah’s resolve to be diplomatic clearly snapped. “I will not be spoken to like this, Boaz.”
“Someone has to speak this way, Mother, and I’m the only person of any real authority over you around here. You may control the harem through your clever ways, but contrary to your personal opinion, you do not control me. You haven’t controlled me from the moment you kissed the emerald ring that graces my finger and hailed me as the Zar of Percheron. I know it must come as a shock to be taken from the harem, but you might as well get used to it now. You are being sent to Galinsea at my discretion as escort to my wife. That is all I ask you to do…guide her if she requires guidance, support her if she requires support, help choose her clothes if that’s what’s needed, but don’t upset her by your cunning strategies. She is our only hope for peace—I cannot stress this enough. I trust you understand the delicate position in which we find ourselves?”
She matched the condescension in his tone when she said, “You say you trust Lazar. What do I do when he tries to steal private time with your precious wife?”
“To lie down with her…is that what you mean? Come on, Mother, be direct.”
“What else does any man have on his mind where a beautiful woman is concerned?”
He sighed, none of the disdain gone from his stance. “Now this just makes me sad. I must ensure that the women of my harem enjoy a wide-ranging education. It’s narrow thoughts like these that could set us back countless years. I want to be a Zar that people remember for his modern thinking and his dedication to change if it’s a good thing for Percheron. If that’s how you see men, then it blatantly shows me how damaging a place the harem truly is. Perhaps the Goddess was right, and we should return to the ancient ways of a matriarchal system, where women were treated with honor, respect, where their roles as priestesses were worshipped. Look what you’ve turned into, Mother. Do you really see yourself as being useful only as a vessel for a man?”
“You couldn’t blame me if I did.”
“No. But I can assure you that I’m not obsessed with the notion of bedding every girl in the harem, and from what I hear, Lazar’s record of being with women is discreet, to say the least.”
“And you know this how?”
“It doesn’t matter, Mother. If Lazar were the lascivious sort, he would have fallen for the feminine wiles that you have so blatantly used on him in the past!”
He thought for one moment she might slap him, but instead she drew a long steadying breath to quell the fury he saw in her eyes.
“Please don’t speak to me like that, Boaz. I’m due more respect from you.”
“Mother, respect works both ways—remember how my father taught my brothers and me that?” She nodded angrily. “Well, do more than just pay lip service to your Zar. Respect me! Don’t try to control me, don’t try to anticipate my every move so you can be there first, don’t destroy the small things that glitter in my life.”
“Like Pez?” she offered sarcastically.
He stared her down. “Like Ana.”
“You still haven’t answered my question, Boaz, and I’m the one responsible for your new wife. What if Lazar makes an attempt on her?”
“He won’t.”
“Because he’s honorable, you mean?” She sneered at the sentiment.
“Yes. Also because I will have spies of my own present.”
She leaped angrily to the bait. “Ah, the Grand Vizier. Clever Tariq. How much higher inside you can he crawl, son?”
“You are quick to assume, Mother, and you would be wrong if you followed your assumption too closely. My spies will be watching you, too, so behave. I want you to go safely and be returned to me safely. You are my mother, my father’s Absolute Favorite, and even though you might question it right now, I do love you. But you must know your place, Mother, and if I feel you trying to attach puppet strings to my back ever again, I will react accordingly. You have been well cautioned. Please heed my warnings about Ana, about Lazar, about your role in this critical event. And I suspect Grand Master Salmeo would app
reciate your involvement in preparations for your departure—you have barely hours.”
It was a dismissal and Boaz believed both of them knew this as surely as he sensed a shift in their already tenuous relationship.
AS HEREZAH SEETHED AT the angry dismissal but went through the polite motion of bowing to her Zar and then being shown out of his chamber, she understood she was no longer in a position to ever be the important woman in her son’s life. She nodded to herself as she secured her veil and fell into step with her Elim escort, acknowledging that though Boaz was a Zar, with a choice of forty-two beauties, his love was given to one alone. That was dangerous.
She hated Ana, that much was obvious…but although she dared not even admit it to herself yet…she knew that deep in her heart she hated Boaz even more for his weakness regarding the girl from the foothills.
PEZ HAD LITTLE TO pack for the journey and couldn’t concentrate anyway, such was his quiet despair over Lazar’s revelation. His old friend was right; that was the painful truth of it. Unless by some miracle the Grand Vizier had not come into any physical contact with Ana, then, impossible though it was to stomach, Ana was not Lyana. He felt sick at the revelation and had been sitting in a corner of his chambers lost in sorrowful thoughts since he fled from Lazar.
If not Ana, then who? It had to be her! Magic pulsed through her body—he felt it. His mind had turned the question over repeatedly. He had replayed every scrap of information he knew and he returned again and again to Ana. It was where the finger stopped pointing. She and Lyana were joined. And if he continued to believe this, then he had to believe that by some grace of the Goddess, Maliz had not touched her, for the demon would have known and he would have destroyed her on the spot. He had to find out and be sure and there was no time like the present. He threw the last remaining items he had hurriedly pulled from his dressing room into a fabric bag and left it outside his chamber door as required. Pez made a mental note that he needed to speak with Razeen before he departed and then, crossing his eyes, he made for the harem, deliberately stumbling and bumping off the hallway walls.
No one troubled themselves with him, for by now the palace was in a state of frenzied activity to get the royal caravan away by nightfall. He bounced into the main divan suite and found it filled with beautiful girls, none of them Ana.
“Ana?” he called, flapping his arms, pretending to fly around the chamber.
“She’s not here, Pez,” one of the girls replied.
“Why do you bother with him?” another admonished.
“He understands sometimes.” It was Sascha who was being helpful. “Grand Master Salmeo has sent her to her chamber to prepare.”
He didn’t respond; he simply flapped his way out of the suite and made for the upstairs sleeping compartments, where he found Ana with Elza and two of the Elim.
“Oh, not now, Pez,” Elza sighed when she caught sight of the dwarf apparently flying in, cross-eyed and burping.
Ana smiled softly at his antics in spite of her somber mood but it didn’t hide the nasty red welt on her face. Pez noticed it instantly. Stopping short, he managed to keep burping through his astonishment.
“Face, face!” he called, ignoring Elza’s shooshing sounds. “Ana’s hurt just like Kett.”
It probably wasn’t the best choice of words, he realized too late as he saw Ana’s eyes cloud at the mention of her loyal friend. “Who’s hurt pretty Ana?” he inquired gleefully of the Elim. “Was she screaming?”
“Get out, dwarf!” Elza said, exasperated, but one Elim came to Pez’s rescue.
“We will report you if you speak with disrespect to him again,” the warrior warned.
Elza grimaced. “He’s upsetting her.”
“He’s also just made Zaradine Ana smile; perhaps you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I have no time for this. How am I supposed to get a royal wife ready in such a short time?”
“You must do the best you can,” the elder Elim said, and motioned to his companion. “We will wait outside for her baggage.”
“They promised me help,” the slave wailed to their backs.
“The ‘they’ you refer to intend to make it as difficult as possible, Elza,” Ana counseled softly. “Did you really think they’d do much at all?”
“They should,” Elza said matter-of-factly. “You have royal status now, Zaradine Ana.”
“And nothing’s changed for it, other than title,” Ana replied gently, leaning down to kiss Pez on the head. “Are you coming with us?”
He nodded his reply, waiting for the slave woman to step into the dressing room to choose more gowns. “Who did this?” he mouthed silently, pointing to her face.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied soundlessly as well. “I’m glad you’re coming,” she mouthed.
Pez pursed his lips, perplexed by her evasion.
“Ah, so you can be still and quiet, Pez,” Elza said, bustling back in with a pile of silk garments in her arms. “Well, Zaradine Ana, at least you have no end of clothes to choose from. The Valide has been generous in this regard.”
Ana sneered. “I need comfortable traveling clothes. We’ll be on horseback and then camel, don’t forget. I also need clothes to stay warm in.”
“And clothes to stay cool in,” Elza reminded her. “Zarab save me, but we need more time!” She flounced back into the dressing room.
Pez risked a whisper. “Ana, quick, this is important. Did the Grand Vizier touch you at all today?”
“Pardon?” She grinned helplessly at what sounded like a lewd question.
“I mean it. Did he at any time touch your arm or shoulder—any part of you—when he fetched you from the harem to take you to Boaz?” His gaze flicked to the dressing chamber, where he could hear Elza muttering about warm clothes. “Quickly, please!”
Ana appeared baffled but she frowned and gave his question the thought he pleaded for. After a few moments of consideration, whilst Pez felt tense to the core watching Elza and quietly praying that Ana would give a negative answer, she nodded. “Yes, as I recall, he took my arm, here”—she gestured—“and guided me through the gardens. He said we needed some time so we would take the longer way and then he could brief me properly.”
Pez felt his last glimpse of hope shrivel. “You’re quite sure?” he pleaded again, his voice choked with disappointment.
“Yes. I remember it clearly. Why?”
Elza reappeared and their conversation came to an abrupt close as Pez fell to the ground in a swoon. He broke wind as he landed and even Elza cracked a smile. “He’s such a fool but it’s nice to see you looking a bit brighter. How’s that cheek?”
“I’ll wear it with pride,” Ana said mischievously.
Elza smiled wider. “You’re wicked, Miss Ana. You’ll have to be extra careful now around the Valide. She’s revealed a lot today with her action.”
Ana nodded and glanced toward Pez. He could hardly believe that Herezah had let her infamous control slip. There would be a reckoning, he was sure. But just now his mind was too confused to allow him any room to fret over the Valide’s future actions.
Ana was not the Goddess incarnate.
So who was?
26
Ana was invited to travel with her Zar in a special karak for two carried by ten Elim. Boaz was determined to see the caravan off himself at the edge of the city, so it was a colorful, almost festive party of dignitaries and servants who snaked down the hill from the palace by torchlight, following the Zar’s personal cavalcade. They were still celebrating their ruler’s marriage, playing up the romance of the two virgins in their minds.
Inside the karak it was somber.
“I hope I won’t let you down,” Ana said, breaking the silence.
Boaz took her hand, and although it was dark in the karak, he stared into the eyes he knew were the color of the sea on a winter’s evening. “You won’t. You know you don’t have to veil in here?”
Ana involuntarily reached for her cheek but st
opped herself from touching it. “I know, I’m just trying to be respectful.” There was not enough light to show the bruise that had developed but still she preferred Boaz to farewell her in a gentle frame of mind, rather than an angered one. His anger would only mean worse treatment for her once she was out of his immediate protection. She felt drained and not in the mood for any more confrontation anyway. As it was, the knowledge that Lazar would be waiting for them was making her feel intensely nervous. She shivered, another involuntary action.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course. I’m just thinking about what we must achieve.”
“Fret not. They will be as enchanted as I was the first time I saw you. Use that effect you have on people, Ana, to its full devastating advantage.” She sensed rather than saw his smile.
She nodded, unsure of how to respond to this. “Our agreement, Boaz—” she began, but he hushed her.
“Let’s not talk about it.”
She touched the soft bandage at his wrist. “Does it hurt?”
He laughed softly, pulling down his sleeve. “Not nearly as much as loving you does.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “And I do love you, but…” Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Pez, who stuck his head in through the curtains, skipping to keep up with the moving karak. He balanced a lit candle in one hand, its flame dancing insanely in time with his skipping and throwing an unwelcome brightness into the karak.
“Forgive me,” he said, careful not to be overheard, and sensing he had interrupted something. “I just wanted you to know we’re close, my Zar.” Pez wheeled away, braying like a donkey, but the pair was grateful for the warning, for a moment later they heard the Grand Vizier clear his throat immediately outside their karak as it rocked to a stop.
“Yes, Tariq?” Boaz said. From the other side of the silks, the Grand Vizier Tariq announced—a little unnecessarily now—that they had arrived. “Thank you. Give me a moment of privacy, please.”
Emissary Page 33
