Emissary Page 7

  “I’ll stop, then,” Pez said, frowning. “I’m not ready to say more until I myself understand more.” He gave Lazar a look begging for his trust. “Suffice to say, his name is Maliz.”

  Now Lazar looked incredulous. “From the ancient myths? The one who turned Beloch and Ezram to stone? Lyana’s nemesis?”

  The dwarf nodded unhappily.

  “You think he was watching you?”

  “I told you, I don’t know!”

  Lazar shook his head, obviously confused. “All the more reason to trust Ellyana perhaps,” he said slowly. “She seems to be the only one who can see the whole picture. She was firm about not letting Ana know that I was still alive. She obviously thought even Jumo couldn’t know about any of this, which probably explains his disappearance,” he said, scratching his newly golden hair.

  Time for truth, Pez reminded himself. “Lazar, I do know something about Jumo,” he said, feeling awkward, but at the look of hope on Lazar’s face he decided to wait till the end of the conversation to say anything. Lazar probably wouldn’t speak to him once he found out what Pez knew. “But let’s finish my report first.”

  Lazar looked anxious to hear about his former manservant but nodded. “I will remind you of Jumo, though.”

  “I’m sure you will. Ana has had a meeting with the Valide.”

  At this, the former Spur looked back at his short friend sharply.

  Pez told him everything that Ana had told him.

  “Herezah’s plotting something,” Lazar stated firmly.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “You have to find out what.”

  “I intend to.”

  “How?”

  “That’s my concern. I came here today to tell you that Ana is vulnerable and her weakness for you is not helping her be strong when she needs to be. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what an odalisque is required to do should the Zar’s eyes fall favorably upon her?”

  Lazar scowled. “No, you certainly don’t.”

  “Well, that time is rapidly approaching, Lazar. And I can’t change that—Lore or not.”

  “I don’t expect you to.”

  “Oh no? Well, why do you lose hours staring at the palace, or—”

  “Don’t, Pez,” Lazar warned.

  The dwarf heeded the warning. “Lazar, you know Boaz is going to choose her!”

  “And there’s nothing I can do about it,” Lazar roared, “so why keep rubbing it in my face!”

  Pez opened his mouth to protest that this was the first time he had mentioned it. But he knew full well that Lazar probably thought about little else. “Forgive me,” he said instead.

  Lazar stood and walked away a few paces, his emotions visibly raw. “She was his from the moment I paid forty karels to her grasping mother,” he groaned. “She was always going to be his,” he added softly.

  “But she is also part of this ‘game.’”

  “Because Ellyana singled her out with the owl statue.”

  “That as well, but I think it was the other way around, actually, I can’t shake the knowledge that I was drawn to the power that Ana gives off long before I even knew of her existence. And now that I do know her, I can feel it emanating from her when I’m around her. I believe Ana chose Ellyana; Ana is the power, not Ellyana.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because whenever I hold Ana’s hand or inadvertently touch her, I feel a thrum of some sort of powerful force pass through me. I don’t think she’s aware of it. She recognizes nothing in me as far as I can tell, so it appears we are not sharing our secrets.”

  “But it’s not the Lore that she has?”

  “Definitely not. I wouldn’t even term it magic. It is a force all of its own and I can’t access it. I’ve tried. All I can do is sense its presence.”

  “A bit like you sense the ‘him’ you spoke of?” Lazar reminded him.

  At his friend’s words Pez suddenly realized the link he had been missing. “Of course! I’m so stupid,” he exclaimed, hopping around with excitement. “That’s it, that’s precisely it, Lazar!”

  The former Spur had to smile at his friend’s antics. “Nice jig, Pez. Are you going to explain?”

  “I’m not sure I can. But I’ll try.”

  But before he could speak further, Zafira hobbled out of the shadows.

  “Forgive me, gentlemen. I came to offer quishtar.”

  At the intrusion of the priestess, Pez remembered the urgency of his return to the palace. “I don’t have time, Zafira, but thank you. The Zar has not seen me in many days and he will begin to question my absence. Although it is very hard to refuse your quishtar.” She smiled and nodded.

  “What about Jumo?” Lazar asked.

  “We have much to discuss. I will do my best to visit often now that I know you are well enough to see me at length, but for now I must go.” He grinned apologetically, but his mind had already fled to the danger waiting for him. “Forgive me,” he murmured distractedly to them both.

  6

  The Zar had invited the Valide to meet the young men being presented. He explained, “They are primarily for my protection, Mother, but I would like to put them at your service as well.”

  Herezah felt a stab of joy. So her son hadn’t forgotten her. “Me?” she said, infusing her voice with innocence.

  “Of course. Mother to the Zar? I cannot have you under any threat.”

  Now the Valide smiled at her son. “Thank you, Boaz, although I cannot imagine any danger to me within the harem.”

  “It’s Tariq to whom we owe gratitude,” Boaz admitted, and Herezah’s joy turned sour.

  “Oh?”

  “This is his idea. He wants all-day, all-night protection for me. He suggested this morning that you should be included in this special ring of security.”

  “I see,” Herezah said, trying to disguise the chill in her tone with a forced smile. “I must thank him. Is there a threat we should be concerned about?”

  Boaz reached for one of the huge redberries piled on a silver platter. He dipped it into the glistening bowl of honey nearby before putting the fruit into his mouth. Finally he answered. “No, I don’t believe so. Tariq just wants to ensure that we tighten up our security in general.”

  “Why? What does he fear?”

  “Well,” Boaz began, licking his lips free of the sticky honey, “he feels that the Crown of Percheron has never been more vulnerable. Our enemies might think now is a good time to take advantage of a new Zar, a young one.”

  “He is right in principle. But who does he believe might make such a move?”

  “The Galinseans, I suspect, although he’s not coming out and saying as much.”

  Herezah arched her eyebrows. “Perhaps Ana is right,” she murmured.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh, nothing, my beloved. One of our odalisques wants to learn Galinsean. I was surprised to hear it but perhaps she has a point. A translator—now that Lazar is no longer with us—may be valuable.”

  Boaz gave a snort. “Are you talking about Ana?”

  Herezah bristled at the familiarity. “The odalisque known as Ana, yes.”

  Her son laughed again. “She speaks Galinsean with ease. Her command of it is amazing, and what she speaks sounds very different from the Galinsean I know. She says it is more a pidgin version used by foreigners, but I suspect she’s being diplomatic.”

  Herezah pursed her lips before replying, calming her rising irritation, knowing that time with the Zar was precious and should not be spent in snarls. She felt as though she were living her early life all over again, waiting for the Zar’s favor to fall upon her. Except this time it was wrong. This Zar was her son! She was the Valide, the most powerful woman in Percheron. She should be ruling, not discussing boating trips for the harem! Forcing herself to maintain her serene expression, Herezah said merely, “She did say she had begun to teach herself.”

  The Zar was eating another redberry. He chuckled as he chewed, irrit
ating her still more. “Well, I’m hazarding she speaks courtly Galinsean as though it’s her mother tongue, and now she’s moved on to mastering it at the colloquial level.”

  “Has she indeed? And how do you know this, Boaz?”

  “I’ve spoken to her about it. She used to practice now and then with me, but, as I say, I became useless to her after a while. She has found a new teacher, one of the slaves, a Merlinean.”

  “You seem on very friendly terms with Odalisque Ana?” Herezah probed. “I should tell you that I approve. I met with Ana yesterday to discuss her taking a more leading role in harem life. She has a fine mind and an innate knack for leadership. I shall reward her if she rewards me with honesty and trust,” Herezah added, keen to ensure he understood that the harem was her seat of power.

  She could tell Boaz hadn’t expected her to take such a forceful position, could see by his hesitation that he wasn’t sure how to respond. “I intend to be on very friendly terms with all in the harem, Mother. You know I am relaxing some of the more archaic rules.”

  “I’d heard.”

  Boaz gave a sly sneer. “I imagine Salmeo shares everything.”

  Herezah felt her back stiffen. She would not to be treated with disdain by her own child. “Need I remind you that that’s his role, my son? He and I run the harem.”

  “No, you don’t need to remind me,” Boaz replied, glowering now. “But perhaps I should remind you that he is the same man who taunted and persecuted you for a great deal of your life. And as you’ve told me often enough, the same man—if you can call him that—who tested your virginity at eight years old and then viciously destroyed it at barely thirteen, no doubt smiling that gap-toothed grin of his the whole time. Perhaps I don’t understand women well enough yet, but it strikes me that all of this might leave a lasting memory on someone like you, who bears grudges.”

  Herezah’s fury had gathered during this tirade. She knew her son hated Salmeo, having lived under his rule for so many years of his childhood, and she knew that Boaz would not forget her own endless nights of weeping at Salmeo’s harshness. But she would not let him turn his years of hate for the eunuch on her, use it as weapon against her. She had worked too hard for Boaz to have this position and status, which he now enjoyed because of her alone.

  Her voice, when it came, was icy. “Salmeo did for your father, Boaz, precisely what he will do for you. And I am the one thing standing between his sharp fingernail and Odalisque Ana’s virginity. When the time comes—and it will, my son, trust me—and I see in your eyes that she will be your first choice—when that time comes, it will be only because of me that Salmeo will be forced to be gentle. I would counsel you on taking a less disdainful approach with the chief eunuch and a less authoritarian approach with me. I am your mother. I demand respect.”

  At this Herezah rose, bowed low and elegantly to her Zar, and took her leave.

  BOAZ WAS STILL STUNNED by the reprimand. It made him feel like a child again, and reminded him that when his mother was cornered she was at her most dangerous. He had to admit she was dazzling, and he could once again appreciate why his father had been so smitten by her.

  He was intrigued by her bringing up Ana; obviously something was playing on her mind. Her suggestion that Ana would make a good Favorite made him smile inwardly. Having seen his mother’s reaction to Ana from the moment she met her, it was obvious to Boaz that Ana was—and always had been—a prime choice in her mind. In truth this pleased him. He had even gone so far as to inquire of Ana whether his mother had had much to do with her, and Ana had surprised him with the news that she had barely glimpsed the Valide in the past few moons. He had expected Ana to be under his mother’s watchful eye constantly.

  However, the Valide’s distance didn’t necessarily mean that Ana was not being observed. Herezah and Salmeo were more than capable of subtly and effortlessly spying on someone as naive as Ana. And yet his mother’s surprise at Ana’s education in Galinsean was genuine. The Valide’s offer to reward Ana in return for her loyalty was also suspect, for Herezah’s motivations were never so simple. There would be more to this move of his mother’s, he was sure. And yet…Herezah’s praise of Ana was reassuring. Boaz wanted his mother to get on well with her. They’d had a rocky start with Ana’s escape from the harem—and then all the business with Lazar! But that seemed to be behind them, Boaz decided. If his mother was making an attempt to forge a relationship with Ana, that could only be a good thing…for the harem, for himself, and indeed for the Crown. Boaz had every intention of making Ana his Favorite. Every time he saw her, each opportunity he had to talk with her, and whenever he dined with the girls, as he tried to at least each new moon, his interest in her grew.

  She was always courteous and gracious around the other girls, making sure as many as she could involve were brought into their discussions. But on the rare occasions that he could speak with her privately, Ana impressed him even more. She was a marvelous mimic and could impersonate the voices and mannerisms of Salmeo—and even more dangerously the Valide—with hilarious precision. That she would risk sharing this with him warmed him.

  He was glad that she seemed to adore Pez. The other girls, especially the younger ones, were a bit scared of the dwarf and his unusual looks. They laughed at him rather than with him, but Boaz could see that Ana, in contrast, cherished Pez. It occurred to him now, as he sat waiting for Tariq to appear, that Pez might have shared his secret of sanity with Ana. Boaz suddenly straightened, his brow creasing in thought. That was it! Of course! Ana surely had such a deep relationship with Pez because he’d shared his great jest with her. The Zar felt a prick of intense jealousy, but it subsided as he continued to think through the situation. If Pez had shared his secret, Boaz had all the more reason to get closer to Ana. Pez trusted her as much as he trusted the Zar. That had to be worth something, Boaz reasoned.

  And now that he was thinking of Pez: Where was the dwarf? Boaz had invited him to dine with him because it had been too many days since they’d seen each other. More importantly, he wished he was here now. Boaz summoned Bin, his personal assistant, to give instructions to find the dwarf. He knew Pez was used to disregarding official protocol, but this was unacceptable.

  After nodding that he would find Pez immediately, Bin delivered his own message. “Zar Boaz, Grand Vizier Tariq has conveyed that he is ready to escort you to the Making of the Mutes.”

  Boaz felt his belly twist, answering the nagging fear that had been with him all morning and probably had been the reason for his baiting of his mother. His natural inclination was to avoid what was obviously going to be a horrific ordeal. And it would be so easy to just say no; he wouldn’t even have to give a reason. But Tariq and then Bin and undoubtedly the rest of the palace would hear about his cowardice. And that would not do. He could all but hear his mother telling him he must attend.

  Suddenly he wondered whether his mother would care to attend such a ghoulish event. Although he’d invited her to meet the men being presented, he hadn’t anticipated that she would want to be present for the actual ritual itself. But then again; her inclination was always toward the cruel—she would no doubt accept whether she was still seething or not. And with the invitation he could make amends for mocking her slightly today.

  “Inform the Valide that a special event, the Making of the Mutes, is imminent, Bin,” he said, glad to note his voice was steady. “Invite her to join me if she cares to, but be sure she knows that the Zar will not be offended in the slightest if she chooses to decline. And find Pez.”

  Bin bowed. “I shall deliver the message before I find Pez, my Zar. The Elim will escort you to the chamber.”

  “Which chamber?”

  “Grand Vizier Tariq has chosen the Chamber of Silence, Majesty.”

  “Appropriate,” Boaz murmured.

  “Yes, he thought so too, Highness.” Bin bowed. “May I tell the Elim you are ready, my Zar?”

  “I shall be ready when I’m ready,” Boaz replied sharply, unnerv
ed by the threat of the upcoming blood and shrieks of Tariq’s showpiece. He could use some of Pez’s strengthening Lore magic right now. Where was the dwarf? And furthermore, did he detect a high-handed tone in Bin’s voice? “They can wait.”

  “My Zar, forgive me but—”

  Boaz glared at the servant. “Begone, Bin. I’m not sure why you’re still here when I expressly asked you to deliver a message to the Valide.”

  “I am gone, my Zar,” Bin said, very humbly. He bowed deeply as he withdrew.

  As the door closed on Bin, the sound of clapping broke out behind Boaz. “All hail the Zar and his mighty power.”

  “Pez!” Boaz’s relief at seeing the dwarf was countered by his surging emotions. “Were you hiding?”

  The palace clown leaped nimbly down from the sill of the open window. “Absolutely not,” he said, sounding indignant.

  “That’s a mighty fall beneath the window. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see you.” Pez’s voice was mild.

  “I realize that,” Boaz said more pointedly. “But where were you that you could appear at my window so many shevels from the ground? Where were you that you could sneak up on me and eavesdrop on my private conversations?” Though his words were sharp, Boaz couldn’t stop picturing proud young men waiting to have their tongues torn out. And for some reason all he could think of was Lazar and hear his old friend sighing with regret that Boaz was maiming healthy Percherese in the archaic manner of the Zar’s forebears.

  “Well, I can see I’m not welcome,” Pez grumbled, still not outwardly offended. “And there I was thinking you might have missed me.”

  “Stop it, Pez. Were you using your Lore skills?”

  Pez hesitated. His large forehead creased. “Are you upset about something, Boaz?”

  The dwarf ’s tone wasn’t patronizing, but the Zar chose to take it that way. “Don’t take that attitude with me, Pez. Remember your place. You may have the ear of the Zar, but you remain his servant, and servants should not miss luncheons with their royal.”