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  EMISSARY

  Book Two of The Percheron Saga

  FIONA MCINTOSH

  For Mum and Dad—50 years!

  …amazing.

  Contents

  MAP

  PROLOGUE

  The slave held a painted silk parasol above the woman’s…

  1

  Three moons later…

  2

  Maliz, the demon, comfortable in the body of the newly…

  3

  The Valide sipped the fruit infusion she took each morning,…

  4

  The man, hunched like a sack of grain in the…

  5

  Pez found Ana sitting with most of the other odalisques…

  6

  The Zar had invited the Valide to meet the young…

  7

  Ana now shared a sleeping chamber with only one other…

  8

  After leaving Ana, Pez had flown to Star Island, where…

  9

  It was no good. Despite her best efforts, Ana could…

  10

  Salmeo knew he had to catch the Valide before she…

  11

  Eyes normally light in color were now darkened by news…

  12

  Pez’s plans to see Zafira had unraveled. He had not…

  13

  Ana had never looked more stunning. Even she was surprised…

  14

  Ana had lost sense of time and place. She had…

  15

  The Grand Vizier sipped the sweetened wine and eyed his…

  16

  The ship had glided near the twin giants, announcing itself…

  17

  Elza raised a small handheld mirror to Ana’s face. Ana…

  18

  Salmeo was right. It was a curious morning, filled with…

  19

  Lazar heard the Second Bell and its tolling stopped him…

  20

  Boaz was pleased to see that Tariq had played his…

  21

  Ana’s shock at seeing Lazar again—blond, bearded—al-most unnerved her as…

  22

  Ana was hurriedly whisked from the Throne Room to be…

  23

  The entire palace had swung into action. The kitchen had…

  24

  Lazar did not join the festivities; instead he tried to…

  25

  Ana was escorted back to the harem, where she was…

  26

  Ana was invited to travel with her Zar in a…

  27

  The group of men, nomads, arrived with the camels at…

  28

  At Jumo’s insistence, Lazar tried to get some sleep, but…

  29

  The first seven days passed in a monotonous routine as…

  30

  The next week passed in a slow cycle of repetitive…

  31

  Back at the camp Ana was vomiting. She had eaten…

  32

  It had been two days since he had lost Jumo,…

  EPILOGUE

  Pez had watched it all unfold with increasing horror.…

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRAISE

  OTHER BOOKS BY FIONA McINTOSH

  CREDITS

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  MAP

  PROLOGUE

  The slave held a painted silk parasol above the woman’s head as she glided along, her face turned out toward the glistening Faranel. It was still only early spring, but the women of the harem preferred to keep their complexions pale, unblemished by the harsh Percheron sun. This woman was slim, taller than she had been when the slave first remembered seeing her and much more curvy, but her hair—loosely plaited today—remained its familiar brightly golden color. The eunuch slave had gotten to know her well this past eleven moons and could sense her wistfulness this morning.

  “Are you in good health today, Odalisque Ana?”

  “I am, Kett. Thank you for escorting me.”

  “You seem sad. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  She smiled. “Dear Kett. I have always felt that is the precise question I should be asking you. After all you—”

  The memory of Kett’s emasculation had always hung between them, an unspoken grief of an evening in which both had shared much despair. On the night that Kett had been made a eunuch, Ana had been sold into the care of the palace; both had become instant prisoners of the harem.

  “Don’t, please, that was nearly a year ago. I am recovered and almost fully resigned to my situation.” The slave shrugged. “It was never your fault.”

  She knew as much, but it didn’t stop her feeling connected to him, sad for him. She stopped walking, pausing to stare out toward an island that was beyond the harbor but still under the watchful protection of the giant statues, Beloch and Ezram. “Why is my gaze always drawn there?” she wondered aloud. “What is that place?”

  Kett looked out to sea. “It is a leper colony, Miss Ana, and although I have never visited it, I hear that it is very beautiful. Perhaps you are drawn to handsome, rugged, windswept things?”

  In spite of her mood, she giggled soft amusement at his words, and touched his arm briefly, feeling how his skin shivered at her small show of affection. “You make me smile. I’m fortunate to have you in the harem.”

  “But, Odalisque Ana,” he exclaimed softly, “everyone loves you. You are the most popular of all the women.”

  “Not so popular with the Valide and the Grand Master Eunuch I fear—although, Kett, I am really trying to keep my word and fit into the harem. I have not raised either’s ire in many a moon.”

  “And yet you stare out across the water, Miss Ana, searching to escape—in spirit perhaps, if not in body?”

  “Ah, Kett, you know me better than anyone,” she said sadly.

  “Only because I feel the same as you do. It is why I am only almost resigned to my situation. We both wish we could escape this place—am I right?”

  “Yes, although I could admit that to no one else. I have given my word to those who care about me and made an oath to myself that I must not attempt to leave the harem again. I have learned that the repercussions often stretch painfully to others.”

  “You refer to Spur Lazar, I think?”

  She flinched at the mention of his name. “The Spur is dead because of my irresponsible actions. I can never forgive myself.”

  “He would never blame you, Miss Ana. He wanted to protect you, that’s why he claimed Protectorship, took your punishment.” The story of the Spur’s self-sacrificing decision had spread like fanned flames through the harem, firing the hearts of the young women hoping for romance in their lives—who, sadly, would probably go to their graves unfulfilled. Love did not often blossom in the harem.

  “I know, but still my actions killed him,” Ana said, unable to mask her pain. She changed the subject though the former Spur was still very much alive in her mind…and her heart. “And you, Kett, how do you cope with being a member of the harem? I suppose at least you have some small measure of freedom.”

  “I run errands for Grand Master Salmeo on occasion, yes.”

  “Do you ever think of running and never coming back?” she asked, a yearning in her tone.

  “Always.” He looked back at her, his wide-eyed gaze intense. “But on each occasion I have returned.”

  Ana’s expression told him that she was assuming it was a lack of courage that brought him back to the palace each time. She tried to hide her disappointment by returning her wistful gaze to Star Island. “I wonder why?” Ana replied, finally continuing her journey into another part of the palace again. She did not see the look on the eunuch slave’s face, did not app
reciate the subtle message of loyalty and love that he had tried to pass to her. “I’m sure if I had your opportunity I might be tempted to break my word and my oath, for despite my strong words, the faith behind them is hollow, dear Kett. I think I am a liar to those around me and to myself.”

  Her friend frowned. “Please, Miss Ana, do not utter such harsh rebuke against yourself.”

  “But it is true,” she returned calmly, waving to one of the girls who stared out from behind the latticed windows of the Sherbet Rooms. “I want to believe I would keep my promise—really, I do—but as I consider a whole lifetime stretching before me here in the harem, I think I would take any chance that came my way to escape.”

  “And risk death?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, then added softly, “For this is a living death for me anyway.”

  “There is a story amongst the Elim about an odalisque who did escape from the harem once.” Kett hadn’t meant to share this apparent myth, but it had spilled from his mouth in an attempt to lift his friend’s spirits.

  Ana turned her head to stare gravely at her companion. “You jest, surely?”

  Kett shook his head. “Only yesterday I saw the Grand Master Eunuch laughing at the idea—the story is so old that no one knows if it is true anymore—that she persuaded one of the bundle women to carry her out in the bundle itself, and so escaped to freedom.”

  Ana stopped in her tracks. “Forever?” she asked, her expression incredulous. “But—”

  “Hush,” he cautioned, eyes frightened, gaze searching for eavesdroppers. “Let us continue, Miss Ana.” He guided her forward once again.

  Ana obediently began moving, but persisted, “Do you mean she was never returned to the harem?”

  “Apparently they never found her. Salmeo said such a thing would never happen under his keep.”

  “How did the odalisque do it?” Ana demanded in a tight whisper. “What did she offer the woman?”

  “She stole something and used it to bribe the bundle woman. The older Elim didn’t say what it was.” At the look in Ana’s eyes, Kett wondered whether he might live to regret sharing this tale of escape. “Come, Miss Ana, you cannot be late for His Majesty.”

  “Forgive me for dawdling,” Ana apologized immediately, “but I am intrigued by your tale, Kett.”

  “Not too intrigued, I hope. It’s far too dangerous and I would hate to lose you,” the slave said sincerely, hastily adding: “So would all the girls of the harem.”

  Ana smiled. “You’re very kind. Here comes the Zar’s men,” she said, noticing the two mutes approaching. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy these meetings with Zar Boaz. He is a very good conversationalist. We even talk in different languages sometimes. I test him on his Galinsean.”

  “Are you better than him?” Kett asked, impressed.

  “A little,” Ana admitted, conspiratorially. “I’m told I have a natural tongue for language, although linguistic skills are of little use to me here.”

  “You never know,” Kett said. “I imagine the Zar will choose you soon, Miss Ana. It is obvious how fond of you he is.”

  “Not too soon, I pray,” Ana replied, before fixing her veil across her face. “Thank you for the story of the odalisque, Kett. I know you told it to me to cheer me and it has.” She smiled reassuringly at his trusting eyes before she turned to address the mutes, who were upon them now, with a gentle nod of her head.

  He grinned and handed the parasol to the mute Salazin, who would now escort the odalisque into the private chambers of the Zar.

  As he watched her petite figure retreat, dwarfed by the warriors who formed an elite guard for the Zar, Kett wondered when his former childhood playmate would take Ana for his Favorite. He suspected it wouldn’t be long now, for the Zar was nearing seventeen and Ana had grown from a beautiful child into an exquisite woman.

  He sighed as he realized he would very soon be forced to love this woman not just from afar, as he had this past year, but also as another man’s wife. And he would have to continue to lie to her and at times to himself about his true feelings for Odalisque Ana.

  1

  Three moons later…

  It was Pez’s idea but it was Zafira who had found him, had seen the potential; still she was shocked by his skill. She feared for the young man, but his uncannily calm manner and quiet confidence convinced her that he was right for this curious role. He asked for no money, which made it harder for her to ask him to do what she did. And when she pressed him for his reason for taking on such personal risk, he had staggered her by confiding that all he wanted to do was serve the Goddess. At his tender age what could he know about Lyana? And yet he had been firm in his claim that he had been called by the Goddess to this dangerous task.

  Now Pez echoed all her anxieties. She had hoped he would ooze his usual confidence—needed him to—but it seemed he was as unnerved as she was by this youngster.

  They sat in a small room stirred gently by a soft breath of wind that although it had journeyed halfway up the hillside of Percheron, still carried the scent of the sea. They could see the harbor from here. The massive giant statues of Beloch and Ezram gazed out across the Faranel, ever watchful for the long-feared raid that hadn’t come in centuries.

  “How does an orphanage command such a view?” Pez wondered aloud.

  “I gather the palace gave it over to widowed wives of the Percherese Guard. Down the decades those families were given better care—separate housing, a stipend from the royal coffers—and this building became defunct. Then one Zar gifted it to the orphans of Percheron. It’s still known as the Widow’s Enclave.”

  “It’s wonderful.”

  “Yes, although there’s talk of that magnanimous act being revoked now.”

  “Surely not?” Pez frowned, unable to imagine Boaz drafting such an ungenerous decree.

  “So the sisters quietly claim.”

  “What would the Zar want it for?”

  “Not the Zar. I think his newly intimate adviser has designs on it.”

  Pez pulled a face of disgust. “Tariq is certainly carving a new role for himself.”

  “Well, his role is to advise the Zar, of course. But according to what you’ve told me, it sounds as though our last Zar never chose to have his close counsel.”

  “And who could blame Joreb? The odd thing is that Boaz always despised the man as much as his father did.”

  Zafira nodded. “I saw Vizier Tariq the other day—”

  “That’s Grand Vizier Tariq, Zafira,” Pez interrupted, grimacing. “It’s amazing what nearly a year’s worth of constant ingratiation can achieve,” he added bitterly.

  “What is it, Pez?” she inquired gently. “Has Boaz cast you aside?”

  The dwarf shook his great head. “No, but he doesn’t look to me for all of his companionship now.”

  “He’s coming up toward seventeen. He had to grow up sometime, my friend. You’ve been his confidant for many years. He’s just spreading his wings a little,” the priestess reasoned. “He has a man’s job to do—little wonder he had to cast off childhood so fast.”

  “True.” Pez sighed. “I just wish it hadn’t been Tariq’s arms he walked into,” he complained, adding, with a tone of frustration, “The man’s undergone some sort of metamorphosis.”

  “Well, how odd that you say that,” Zafira said, leaning forward eagerly. “When I saw him the other day, we passed each other around the main fountain in the market and I hardly recognized him.”

  Pez frowned. “Curious, isn’t it?”

  “Am I deceiving myself?”

  Pez gave a derisive smirk. “No, I’ve noticed it, too. Younger, straighter, more…what is it?” He paused, searching for the word. “More presence. The old Tariq was weak, and his greatest weakness was craving attention from the royals. This newly invented Tariq exudes absolute confidence. He needs no endorsement from anyone, it seems. I swear he all but treats the Valide Zara with disdain.”

  �
�Well, so do you,” Zafira reminded him.

  “But I’m supposed to be mad, remember…and rude to everyone—especially Herezah, whenever I can find the opportunity. Tariq has all of his faculties intact and he openly does not suffer fools gladly.”

  “Are you saying the Valide is a fool?”

  Pez gave some semblance of a rueful grin. “Far from it, but I sense she’s as baffled as I am by this relationship that seems to deepen by the day.”

  “And you? How does he regard you?”

  “Tariq? I sense that he’s suspicious of me. He watches me carefully. He thinks I don’t notice, but I am aware of his constant attention.”

  “What is he suspicious of?”

  “I don’t know. He can’t know the truth of my sanity, I’m sure of it, but it’s as if he suspects there’s more to me than meets the eye and so he keeps watching for some sign.”

  “Iridor?” the priestess posed, her voice a whisper.

  Pez shook his head. “Why would he suspect that?”

  She shrugged. “If you have magic, why not others?” she suggested, keeping her voice low. “Or perhaps it’s that Tariq’s jealous of your relationship with Boaz.”

  “It could be—that would make sense. Yet I feel as though he is searching for any slip, any small sign that I am not what everyone believes me to be. It doesn’t add up, but then neither does his behavior over the past year. I need to be more attentive.” Pez moved restlessly to the window to watch the children playing a boisterous game of pigball in the courtyard.

  “Are you sure about him?”