Goddess Page 3

  “War is coming, Valide. You may live to desire the monotony of harem life more than anything else.”

  “Maybe I will, but right now discussing whether one girl has learned her steps of the Shezza dance accurately enough seems altogether pointless. There are such bigger things at stake and it galls me that I am kept from them.”

  “Have you seen Boaz?”

  “No. My son is avoiding me. Not deliberately, I don’t think. He’s preoccupied with the Galinsean threat, and rightly so. How could I, a mere woman, help him?”

  “A woman has two arms, two legs, a brain…just as a man does. Save brute strength, she is his equal, Valide.”

  “Zarab save me, Lazar, do you really believe that?”

  He nodded from his pillow, his stare earnest. “I always have.”

  “And yet there is no more chauvinist man in Percheron, I don’t believe! You keep the company of men, you certainly show no interest in women in general to my knowledge.”

  “I am not prejudiced, Valide. You know only the interest–as you call it–that I do not show in you. Unless you’re spying on me, then you know nothing about time I have spent with women, or your spies are hopeless.” He watched her bristle, unsure of whether it was the barb about having poor spies or the fact that he might be engaged in amorous pursuits with other women that irritated her. He continued, but in a more soothing manner. “I do believe men make better fighters. They can be more ruthless–save present company of course.” She smiled ruefully at his cutting praise. “Women undoubtedly make better caregivers. I generalize, of course, but I think we all have roles we can shine in, though I still say we are equal. We balance each other; we need each other.”

  “You don’t seem to need the balance of a woman, Lazar.”

  “Oh, but I do. You just told me how much I stink and my house stinks. A woman, better than any, can fix that.”

  She reacted girlishly to his sarcasm rather than angrily, smiling as she hurled her silk purse toward him, loving the feeling of freedom it gave her to act so thoroughly out of the character everyone expected from her, especially him. “Oh, how dare you!”

  His mouth twitched in genuine amusement that Herezah was capable of taking the jest and laughing at it. He tried to move his head but was far too slow. The soft silken sack landed across his face, lightly; there was nothing in it save a square of voile.

  “Oh, Lazar, forgive me,” Herezah said, standing quickly to remove the purse.

  He laughed beneath the silk despite his mood. “That’s about as uncontrolled as you’ve ever behaved, Herezah. You should reveal yourself more often in this way.”

  She bent into a crouch by the bed, took the purse that he handed her. “I could say the same for you. I do like it when you call me by my name.”

  “I shouldn’t,” he said.

  Herezah unhooked her veil. “I like it even more when you are not snarling at me.”

  Fresh, spicy perfume wafted over him and she was close enough for Lazar to smell the fragrant herbs on her breath that so many of the Percherese chewed. “I snarl at everyone.”

  She shrugged. “Well, I suppose it’s reassuring that you know you do, but I do believe you save your worst for me.”

  “It’s because you disappoint me.” He saw the shock flare in her eyes as if she had been slapped. “You have so much to offer Percheron. That’s why Joreb chose you in the first place. You raised a son we are all proud of, groomed him perfectly for his royal role. You are arguably the strongest, most talented, and most beautiful Zar’s mother Percheron has ever seen.”

  Her gaze intensified as the air seemed to thicken around them. “I’ve never seen any indication of this admiration you speak of. I have craved your approval for so long–why are you only giving it now?”

  Lazar felt unnerved by her honesty but there was nothing to lose. He might never again have the opportunity to be equally candid. “Because you focused on the petty squabbles within the harem instead of looking outward to what was crucial–Percheron’s welfare. Our personal history with each other is long, Valide, but you have wanted something from me that I would have been more insane than Pez to give you. But that aside, if only you’d put that bright, sharp mind of yours to Zar Boaz’s needs instead of using your cunning to bring down a mere odalisque or to hurt the Zar’s loyal soldier servant, the realm would not be facing war.”

  She stood, her expression incredulous, her hand flat against her chest as though she were suddenly breathless. “You blame me for the Galinsean threat?”

  “Partly. You and your cruel, effeminate sidekick. If you had not pushed Ana so hard, frightened her so much, she would likely not have tried to escape the harem that first time. And if you had not campaigned for her punishment quite so enthusiastically, I might not have had to offer myself in her place. And if I hadn’t done so, Salmeo might not have felt sufficiently maligned to manipulate the use of the Viper’s Nest or the drezden poisoning…and Horz, a very good man, need not have died, and Jumo would not have rushed off to find my family.”

  “You have no proof of the chief eunuch’s involvement.”

  Lazar shook his head sadly. “And still we both know it to be true. It’s an old gripe. We can’t change what’s gone but its effects linger–because here I am useless to Percheron for the second time because of the sickness that the drezden provokes.”

  “I don’t understand this malady of yours–what is drezden? I believed you were avoiding the palace because you were so angry about what occurred in the desert.”

  “Nothing so simple. The drezden that was used on the whip has weakened me for the rest of my life and lives alongside me. Whenever I am physically tested, I suspect it reemerges to claim my body again. The long trek, on foot, back from the desert tested me.” He shrugged.

  Now Herezah really did appear shocked. She sat on the side of the rumpled bed, laid a manicured hand against his arm. “You mean you will never be rid of this sickness?”

  He shook his head. “It follows me, hangs around and within me. It waits until I’m weakened and then strikes.”

  Herezah turned away. “I had no idea.”

  “What is done, is done. As I say, we cannot change it. But you can change…you can help your son shape a future.”

  Lazar had been slowly pulling himself up, the emotion behind his words charging him, giving him a false energy. He groaned now and fell back on his bed. “I’m afraid I remain useless.”

  “No. This cannot continue,” Herezah suddenly said briskly. “We’re going to get you well, Lazar, and you are going to help Boaz. You are wallowing here. You said I can change; well, here’s the first of my changes.” She strode, despite her limp, to the windows and pulled back all the shutters, ignoring Lazar’s squeals as he fled beneath the sheets, covering his eyes from the agony of light.

  Get rid of her! Pez suddenly burst into his mind. The magic dwindles!

  “Valide, please, I–”

  “Don’t argue, Lazar.” She had continued throwing open shutters around the room. Now she marched to the doors and flung those back. She issued crisp orders at the Elim before turning to the shape beneath the sheets. “I shall see you back at the palace, Spur. Ready yourself. I am going to nurse you back to full health.” She left him with that terrifying notion, slamming the doors shut behind her.

  Pez winked back into existence on the other side of the bed. “That was close.”

  “What did she mean?” Lazar croaked, emerging hesitantly and blinking.

  “I think it means she finally has you at her mercy,” and Pez chuckled in spite of himself. “I cannot stay here. This place is crawling with Elim.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll go to the Sea Temple. I’ll let myself be found shortly. I think she meant what she said, by the way.”

  “Is it my imagination or did she sound different?”

  “Different, I agree, but don’t trust it. Herezah is too old to change her ways entirely.”

  “Pez, I
’m too weak to fight this.”

  “Then don’t. Let her get you well. Once you’re strong again, we’ll think about what’s next.”

  2

  Boaz glumly leaned against the balcony of his private salon. His personal servant, Bin, interrupted his thoughts, his expression a mask of worry at his Zar’s sorrowful mood.

  “It’s hot out here, Majesty. I’ve brought you some chilled apple tea. The Grand Vizier is here to speak with you as well. May I show him in?”

  “Yes, why don’t you,” Boaz answered, his tone detached. At his servant’s urging he took the goblet of tea and sipped, feeling the fruity but slightly bitter liquid cool his mouth and throat as he swallowed greedily, realizing he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the previous afternoon. Food held little interest for him these days. He saw Tariq enter and bow, and rallied himself from his gloom. “You look better,” he said in greeting his senior counselor, wiping his lips with his fingers.

  “The sea air helped after our time in the desert. But you look older, Majesty. The mustache suits you.”

  “This has only taken the four weeks of your absence. I shall wear a beard by year’s end. What news?”

  “No news is good news, Highness. Our ships have scoured the approaches into the main bay, and there is no sign of the Galinsean fleet.”

  Boaz was unimpressed. “That does not mean they are not coming, Tariq.” The counselor simply nodded and Boaz spun on his heel in a show of frustration. “Oh, what are we thinking? This is not the traditional work of the Grand Vizier–you shouldn’t be at sea! We need Lazar and he’s too sick to move! I need my Zaradine and she’s been stolen from me by some madman in the desert. Even my jester has abandoned me.”

  “Well, my Zar, your understandable dismay regarding your new wife and the loss of the dwarf aside, while you are right that we could certainly use Lazar’s soldiering prowess, in all honesty, what good is one man against a fleet of ships? I do think we should consider planning your retreat and escape route.”

  ‘I don’t wish to leave Percheron.”

  “Majesty, you have no choice. We must secure your safety and that of your women at all costs.”

  “I will not flee the realm, leaving the Percherese to Galinsean justice. You know what that would mean.”

  “But what purpose would your death serve?”

  “At least I’ll die bravely, alongside my people, facing my enemy, not cowering in some cave on the edge of the desert in the vain hope that my crown might resurrect itself through the bravery and deeds of others.”

  The Grand Vizier bowed again. “Bravo, Majesty. I applaud your courage. But what is Percheron without its royal? The Zar must be protected at all costs.”

  “On your return from the aborted trip to Galinsea, you and my mother believed Zaradine Ana to be with child. There is my heir. Find Ana, find my son.”

  “But we cannot be sure, Highness. The Zaradine was sickening as if with child. We are assuming, that is all.”

  “I want my wife! I want to see her expectant belly! I want the dwarf returned to me!” Boaz didn’t care how petulant he sounded. As it was, he was only just controlling his anger.

  The Grand Vizier studied the Zar. “Forgive me, Highness. I don’t wish to upset you. I can see how the loss of those close to you is hurting you but–”

  “But nothing, Grand Vizier! Do not presume to understand me at all times. You cannot know what I am feeling. What I want is for my orders to be adhered to. A party of soldiers must be sent to find Zaradine Ana. It has been three moons and your counsel to wait and see if she be returned or if any demands be made might have been wise at the outset but no contact has eventuated.”

  “Zar Boaz. At the risk of your wrath, may I ask if you are prepared to discover that Zaradine Ana is dead? And that your jester is almost surely dead? My last memory of the dwarf is of seeing him struggle up a sand dune carrying two huge swords. They were for the Spur, of course, for the man came down the sand dune like a berserker not moments after. I never saw Pez again. Even if he survived the attack, he couldn’t have survived the desert. If Lazar hadn’t had the single camel, we would never have made it out of the Great Waste with our lives. And as for the Zaradine, it’s true I’m only surmising, but she was a lone woman in a company of men. That doesn’t bode well for her.”

  “They are both alive, I’m sure of it.”

  “How can you know that, my Zar?” the Grand Vizier asked calmly, irritating Boaz.

  “I would feel it to my very core if either were dead. I feel connected to both of them.”

  Boaz saw the flare of interest that registered in the intense gaze of his Grand Vizier. “You can feel them?” Tariq repeated.

  “Not in the obvious way,” Boaz replied. He sauntered away to stare out to sea. “Perhaps I just want to believe I am emotionally and spiritually linked to them. I suppose you find that amusing, do you, Tariq?”

  “No, Majesty, not at all. I can assure you that I do not sneer at such things.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by Bin, who whispered privately to the Zar. “Your mother wishes to speak with you. She awaits my message, Highness.”

  Boaz nodded. “And she says it is important?”

  “She used the word crucial, your Majesty.”

  Boaz addressed the Grand Vizier again. “Tariq, you’ll have to excuse me. My mother has asked for an urgent and apparently crucial audience. I gather she’s rather worked up about something.”

  “Oh? Can I help?”

  “I don’t think so. She has asked if I could meet her in her private salon in the harem. I haven’t spoken to her in many days, so I am loath to ignore her further. She would not use the word crucial lightly. We shall speak later…er, perhaps over supper, Tariq.”

  “As you wish, Highness.” The Grand Vizier bowed but Boaz didn’t miss his disappointment.

  Herezah had only recently returned to the harem from her visit and had expected Boaz to take at least the rest of the day to find time to see her. She was as surprised as Elza was shocked to hear that the Zar was entering the harem.

  Salmeo, of course, preceded any royal entry, flouncing into Herezah’s suite in a noisy rustle of silk taffeta. “The Zar is coming,” he announced unnecessarily. “Did you request an audience?”

  “Yes. I trust you don’t expect me to ask your permission before I make arrangements to see my own son.”

  Salmeo was not permitted to answer, for the Zar had arrived. The eunuch sighed silently as he began lowering his bulk in deference to the royal.

  “Mother, forgive my absence,” Boaz said, crossing the chamber in three short strides and helping the Valide straighten. He kissed her cheek. “You look radiant, as always.”

  She touched his face lightly, her fingers near his new mustache. “So handsome,” she said, smiling, but she knew him too well not to see below the facade to his sorrow. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Can I offer you some refreshment?”

  “No. Let us speak privately,” he said, looking at the two servants still waiting to be given permission to stand. Herezah sensed that her son relished the opportunity to make the Grand Master Eunuch, breathing heavily in his uncomfortable position, struggle on a little longer. He finally gave the command that would surely bring relief. “Rise, Salmeo,” he said and, once the huge man had labored to his feet, added: “What are the physics saying about the Valide’s foot?”

  Salmeo caught his breath. “Her progress is excellent, Highness. She will be walking without the stick by the next moon, they tell me.”

  “Good. She is to have anything at all that she needs. Now I wish to speak with my mother alone.”

  “Leave us, Elza,” Herezah bid. She glanced at the towering eunuch. “I shall speak with you later, Grand Master Eunuch.” She kept her tone neither deferential nor overbearing. She did not need Salmeo as an enemy.

  Salmeo shot her a glance that was hard to read, though she suspected he had hoped she might ask him to stay. Silently, he followed Elza f
rom the chamber. When the doors had closed, Boaz turned to his mother.

  “I think you used the word crucial to summon me, Mother. How can I help?”

  “It’s how I can help you, son,” she said, again deliberately not coloring her tone.

  He looked up sharply from the ottoman on which he was making himself comfortable. “Go on?”

  “It’s Lazar. I’ve been to see him.”

  Herezah could hardly fail to notice how one of Boaz’s eyebrows arched slightly in tandem with a twitch at the corner of his lips. So, he was amused. “And?”

  “Well, he needs to be looked after properly. He explained his illness to me. It’s connected to what made him disappear from us the first time. We can’t lose him again, son. He is too important to you now.”

  “I’ve had my people look in on him but he chases them away. What are you proposing?”

  “I shall nurse him.”

  “You?” He stood, regarding his mother with obvious incredulity. “Is this some scheme to put Lazar, when he is too weak to resist you, under your control?”

  She shook her head, held his gaze, said nothing. She assumed that Boaz anticipated that she would take umbrage at his accusation and he was clearly surprised when she took his words so calmly.

  “Why, then?”

  “He has been deathly sick, Boaz. I could smell the illness from him and around him. He is not getting any care from what I can see and is clearly willing himself to death.”

  “Surely he–”

  “No, Boaz,” she interrupted. He looked momentarily surprised but she didn’t apologize. “I may be reading this wrongly but I doubt it. This is about honor. Lazar gave you his word that he would protect your wife and your mother. But I suspect he believes he has let you down. He had a devil of a choice, as I’ve explained, and I would have put my very title–my life, in fact–on his choosing Ana over me. But he didn’t.” She shook her head in disbelief, repeating softly, “He didn’t.” Sitting down down directly opposite her son, she looked at him openly and honestly, revealing to him that she was not trying to make mischief. “To this day I remain shocked that he came after me–killed a dozen men single-handedly to get to me–and saved me from their cruelty.”