P ez led Boaz through a maze of corridors the boy was sure he had not traveled before. Now that he thought about it, his world was so small. Life in the palace might well be grand but everything about his existence was controlled by his mother. Herezah authorized everyone who was responsible for his getting up and going to bed, being bathed, fed, educated, even choosing where and with whom he played, when younger.
He and Pez were thumbing their nose at traditional rules and Boaz knew he had agreed to this lunacy only because he was angry with his mother. It felt satisfying to act independently without worrying about the consequences. I am the Zar after all, he told himself.
Mind you, now that they were here—in what was the most dangerous part of the whole of Percheron if you were an intact male—he didn’t feel quite so keen to snub authority or risk the certain wrath should anyone, not just his mother, find out. He wanted to say as much, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his friend hissed a warning.
“Now silence, Boaz,” Pez urged. “We’re about to enter the realm of the harem.”
Boaz took a sudden fearful breath. “It’s forbidden, Pez.”
“Not forbidden to me,” the little man said, grinning wickedly. “And let’s not forget who you are.”
“Nevertheless,” Boaz protested, grabbing his friend’s short arm, “I cannot. My mother would—”
“What? Kill you? I think not. Not when you are the source of her status.”
“Well, she’d never forgive me.”
“What if I told you I could ensure that you were never seen?”
“I should not believe you.” Boaz laughed.
“Then you must trust me. I will not lead you into trouble, Boaz. I am leading you toward enlightenment.”
Before the Zar could reply, a boy of about his age rounded the corner.
“Zar!” he exclaimed, cringing instantly into a bow.
Pez sighed. That was that, then. Lucky they hadn’t actually crossed the official, invisible line that separated the harem from the general palace.
“Hello, Kett,” Boaz said good-naturedly, recovering with effort from the shock of discovery. “I’m escaping my tutors and keepers, guardians and mother. Everyone, in fact. Do you know Pez, my jester?”
Pez began to pick his nose, rendering a small jig.
Kett, a servant to the eunuchs, shook his head dumbly, looking from the Zar to the clown, who was now examining the contents from his nostrils.
Boaz winced. “He has some awful habits. Don’t mind him. I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Forgive me, High One. Since turning fourteen, they think I’m ready to take on more duties. They keep me busy, Majesty.” The boy bobbed another bow. “But I miss our fun.”
“Kett was a playmate of mine for a while,” the Zar explained to Pez, who pretended to pay no attention to anything but digging at his ear. “His mother served my mother when she first came to the palace. Kett was allowed to join in some of my games until my mother felt we were becoming too close. She separated us.” He looked back to the boy, whose dark face had not lost its expressiveness with the added years. “How many years ago was that, Kett?”
“Four, Majesty. My humble prayers for your father but I admit I rejoiced to hear that you were to be our next Zar.”
“Thanks, Kett. So…what are you doing?” Boaz was keen to lose the royal tag for just one evening. He pulled the dwarf ’s hand away from his nose. Pez began to sing, loudly.
“Is he always like this, High One?” Kett asked.
“I’m afraid so. He can be very amusing, though.”
Kett looked dubious but remembered his manners. “I’ve finished for the night, Majesty. I was on my way back to my quarters. I’m not allowed anywhere near the harem, of course, but some of us use this corridor as a shortcut to our dormitories.”
“Oh, of course. I guess you would get into trouble if you were seen in the harem.”
Kett grinned. “I don’t want to follow in my superiors’ footsteps and be a eunuch—I think I like girls too much. I want to be one of the Spur’s men if they’ll let me. My mother’s connection to yours might help, now that your mother is Valide Zara.”
“Good for you, Kett. I hope you get what you want.”
The boy nodded. “Is there anything I can do for you, High One?” he asked. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning that you shouldn’t be here either.”
“No, you’re right. We were just larking around. Pez’s silly singing and dancing led us here.”
“Let me guide you from here, Majesty,” Kett offered.
“Do you like to see naked girls?” Pez asked, a question that brought polite conversation to a halt. The two boys stared at each other, both stifling embarrassed laughter. “Because I know a hiding spot where we can see them, tra-la-la.” He began to dance again, a dullard’s grin on his face.
“Is he mad?” Kett asked.
“Completely,” Boaz confirmed.
The dwarf slid through a doorway hung with black velvet.
“What’s he doing?” Kett asked, alarmed. “That’s forbidden!”
“Not to him. Pez has royal permission to go wherever he likes, including the harem’s hallways and chambers.”
Pez stuck his head out of the curtains. “And so do you, Zar Boaz. You are the royal authority. There is no higher authority in the land than yours.”
“What’s he talking about?”
Boaz sighed. “He’s daring me to go into the forbidden halls of the harem.”
“No, High One. You cannot,” Kett begged. “Come, I shall take you from here.”
Boaz looked between the two, but the challenge in Pez’s expression won out. This was the way of the Zars of Percheron—strength and discipline were the foundation of the rule. He must dig deep and turn quickly into the man his father had chosen him to be—firm, decisive, ruthless…and not afraid of breaking a few rules.
“Come, Boaz,” Pez urged in a whisper. “You must see what your mother is planning for you.”
“Come with us, Kett,” Boaz offered, on a whim.
“Cannot protect the servant boy,” Pez muttered in a singsong voice, but Boaz ignored him.
“You said you liked girls,” he challenged.
“I do. But not enough to be beheaded for them.”
“I won’t allow that. You forget that I am Zar,” Boaz answered haughtily. Surprised at his own courage, he grabbed Kett’s arm and dragged him between the curtains.
Kett yelled but Boaz pushed a hand across the boy’s mouth. “Hush now!”
“Can’t protect him,” Pez sang softly as he waddled deeper into the dark corridor.
“You hush too,” Boaz growled to Pez. “This is your fault. Now lead on!”
The three adventurers moved in silence. This particular passageway remained black, draped with fabric. Finally they emerged into a dimly lit opening from which several corridors led.
Pez put his finger to his lips and Boaz felt a tingling fear crawl up his spine. Zar or not, this act they were committing was fraught with a danger he didn’t want to meet.
“Where we need to be is still on the fringe of the harem,” Pez whispered. “Follow me,” and the boys dutifully followed the little man, hoping to the gods that no one was coming the other way.
Pez appeared to read their thoughts. “Everyone will have been banished from these hallways for the duration of the Choosing Ceremony. Fret not, we are alone. But from now on we must remain silent as mice.”
They nodded, spectral in the murkiness of the corridor, where tiny flames in hanging lanterns cast a thin, ghostly light.
They twisted and turned down various other corridors until finally Pez slowed and gave them a look of dire warning. Boaz could see a new intensity of light ahead and nodded to his friend. They had arrived.
Moving forward tentatively, they held their collective breath until they reached some latticework, which offered thin protection between themselves and a gathering of men in a decorative chamber. They were drinking, socializing—their noise drowned out any noise from the three interlopers.
“This is called the Choosing Room. It’s where a selection of girls will be presented to the Valide Zara. It is from this range of lovelies that you will eventually choose your wives, Boaz,” Pez whispered.
“Do I get any say in the matter?” the young Zar asked.
Pez grinned. “Of course. But your mother makes the initial selection. She is seeing forty-two girls today.”
“Where is she?”
“Arriving any moment now, I’d suggest.” Pez glanced at Kett, could see the strain of terror on his face, wished deeply that Boaz had not invited this boy along. He was a danger to all of them and yet, that thought aside, there was something else about Kett that nagged at Pez. Something important. He didn’t know the boy but he felt as if he should—felt, in fact, a sudden sorrow for the child.
But it was too late to turn back. Guards would have been posted now that the Valide Zara was on her way. They were trapped and would have to remain here, silent, until Herezah had left the chamber and returned to her own rooms.
This was madness—for all he had urged Boaz on, Pez knew that himself. And yet he had felt compelled to see the Choosing. He came out of his worried thoughts to concentrate on peering through the latticework, feeling his heart hammering with anticipation.
A HERALD SOUNDED LOUDLY from the surrounding balustrade, calling everyone to order. The men hushed. The Valide Zara was announced and Herezah swept into the chamber from a secret entrance that connected to the harem proper. Lazar noted she was following strict protocol in being covered head to foot but there was nothing modest about the way she presented herself. Dressed as she was in brilliant emerald silks, only her eyes showed, and they were dark and dangerous. She had expressive eyes and even from this distance Lazar could read the excitement in them.
She shimmered as she moved, the lantern light catching the tones woven into the silk, one moment violet, the next deep emerald. Even veiled, she commanded attention.
Everyone bowed low to acknowledge the Valide’s arrival. Then Tariq and Salmeo moved forward to join her on the special plinth erected for this evening’s proceedings. Both seemed to be basking in her bright glory. Oh yes, Lazar thought, Herezah would find willing servants in these two. And again a gloom settled about him as he considered just how Ana would fare among these cruel, ambitious people who would be controlling her life.
“Hail, Valide Zara,” Salmeo called, and everyone responded.
“Thank you, brothers, for your rousing welcome.” There was a playfulness in Herezah’s tone tonight. She was enjoying herself; had surely dreamed about this moment.
Herezah continued. “We are gathered this night for you to present suitable girls for inclusion in Zar Boaz’s harem. I thank you for helping us to find the raw material from which he will select his wives and thus the future heirs for Percheron, and we will be glad to pay handsomely for each of the girls deemed suitable.” She nodded toward Salmeo, who beamed in response and stepped forward as she moved to sit on her throne.
The chief eunuch cleared his throat. “I would like to clarify on behalf of the palace how the choosing of the Zar’s harem works. Firstly, you have brought among you forty or so girls aged between ten and fifteen. We thank you for this. As agreed, we will pay twenty-five karels per child, no matter whether they are chosen or not. The girls we accept will attract a further fifty karels paid to you as your finding fee. Those we do not select you may sell in the market for your personal gain or keep to do with as you wish.” His tongue flicked between his teeth and his lips shone with the moistening. All but Lazar laughed at his innuendo.
Salmeo was still speaking. “…Vizier Tariq will see to payment, yes,” he answered in response to a question. “Which brings me to the point that the entire fee will not be settled for the girls chosen this evening until they have completed the Test of Virtue.” He allowed this seemingly innocuous statement to hang for a moment. “I’m sure you understand, brothers,” he added lasciviously.
If he had not heard his name called first, Lazar was sure he would have found a reason to leave the chamber.
“Spur Lazar kindly agreed to help us fill the quota of girls and I’m sure none of you will mind if he presents his selection first. He’s a busy man, as you know, and no doubt is eager to return to his duties, having been away. Spur?”
Lazar ignored Salmeo and cleared his throat. “Valide Zara, please forgive my dusty appearance. I have not had time since returning from the foothills to change into something more appropriate for your company,” he said as he approached the plinth. In truth he could not have cared less about his appearance, especially where she was concerned, but he knew he must play to her vanity.
Herezah nodded. “Worry not, Spur. I’m sure most men would give an eye to look as good as you do even in dirty garments.”
The men around him sniggered, mostly out of jealousy, but Lazar deliberately kept his expression blank, his eyes firmly fixed on the Valide. Herezah always tried to provoke a reaction from him. So far she’d never provoked the anger she so craved. He would not give it now even though it simmered inside.
“Thank you, Valide, for your generosity.” Lazar moved quickly to business. He wanted to be gone as soon as possible. “I present six applicants for your consideration.”
A bell sounded, another set of curtains was pulled back, and a line of girls was led in, all naked but for a gauzy sheath that gave them a sense of modesty although it hid nothing. Lazar ignored all the others and looked only at Ana. He hated that the other men in the room were enjoying the sight of her body, just ripening into womanhood.
“Come, girls.” Salmeo shooed them into position in front of Herezah and began the introductions. “This is Fajel, she is ten, and as you can see is straight-limbed with a tendency toward being tall, I would suggest…” Lazar forced his mind to drift. He did not want to listen to this.
He fixed his own stare on Herezah to give the impression that he was paying close attention. He knew she watched him more closely than she watched the child and he deliberately blanked his face, knowing how much it irritated her. She soon grew bored with trying to win any flicker of interest from him and returned to the job at hand.
“Can you sing something for us, Fajel?” she asked, and the girl nodded. “Go ahead, then.”
A sweet sound broke across the mainly silent room, interrupted only by shuffles or coughs. There was no more socializing now. Each man wanted his six chosen above all the others.
The girl finished her song. “That was very nice,” Herezah said condescendingly. “Turn around for me, child.”
Salmeo aided the girl as she slowly spun around so the Valide could see her from all angles. “This one will stay slim, Valide Zara,” he hazarded.
“Yes, we’ll take her,” Herezah said, sounding slightly bored. “Next.”
It continued. Lazar was not involved in any of the choosing but he was required to stand alongside the line of girls and he was pleased that Ana was last and he was able to be next to her as the line dwindled. He could feel the heat from her body radiating to the back of his hand, which barely touched the thin gauze that separated his skin from hers. He wished he could offer reassurance. It would be hollow, though—it would be a lie and Ana would know it.
Finally it was her turn and he took a deep, steadying breath, hoping nothing of the turmoil he was feeling would be given away on his face.
Salmeo continued. “Valide Zara, this is Ana, found in Shanar. She is almost fourteen and already a dazzling beauty, if I might say so. I would urge that this girl is the pick of the forty-two on offer this evening. I understand the Spur paid a premium for her.”
“Indeed, Salmeo, and rightly so.” Herezah stood. Lazar knew her interest had been piqued. It was everything he had hoped would not happen. “She’s from the foothills, you say?”
Lazar took a moment to realize Herezah was addressing him. “Er, yes, Valide, from the west. She belongs to a goatherd’s family, but she was originally an orphan, adopted by them.”
“That hair!” Herezah said, unable to hide her excitement. “Where does one find a child of this coloring in the foothills?”
Lazar shrugged, feigning boredom. “I’m told by the stepmother that she was found as a newborn after the Samazen had passed through. Presumably her family perished. As for the color, I suspect she is from the far, far west, probably merchants.”
“Oh yes, yes.” Herezah smiled, pleased. “Spin, child, let me feast my eyes upon you.”
Ana obeyed and for the first time Lazar looked too. She was perfect. He had been wrong to think her coltish; he had been fooled by the baggy clothing her stepmother had forced on her and by her square shoulders. Beneath Ana’s transparent shift was a nubile body rounding into the fullness of womanhood. Her belly was taut, flat; her curves still gentle but filled with promise. Her breasts were already full and high.
Herezah stepped down from the plinth and shocked everyone by reaching out and pinching one of Ana’s nipples. To her credit, Ana did not flinch.
Herezah laughed with pleasure. “Oh yes, watch them rise strong and ready to the touch. This one is more than wanted; this one is desired. Boaz will love her. Congratulations, Lazar.” Herezah looked directly at Ana now. “You’re very beautiful, my dear. Do you know it? Will you use it in the right way, I wonder?”
“I am how I am, Valide,” Ana said levelly, taking everyone by surprise. Herezah’s question had been rhetorical and no one had anticipated a response. When it came, it silenced those gathered, including the Valide. Salmeo glared at the child.
“And headstrong too, I see,” Herezah continued. “That we shall need to work upon.” She looked toward the chief eunuch. “Salmeo.”
“Yes, Valide,” he lisped enthusiastically.
“I may even take this one on myself.”
Lazar’s heart sank.
“Who better to prepare her for Boaz than the person who knows him best?” the Valide asked, laughing beneath her veils.
“That is a high compliment to the girl, Valide,” Salmeo admitted. “You are fortunate, child,” he said to Ana, though he still glowered from the audacity of her earlier comment.
“Ana, you are now odalisque of the harem of Zar Boaz, King of Kings, Mightiest of the Mighties.” Then Herezah smiled. “And I am your mistress.”
Ana said nothing, though everyone was anticipating some response.
Lazar felt frantic. He had to do something. “Valide?”
“Oh yes, Spur, you will be paid handsomely for this find.”
“That is not my query, Valide Zara. Ana’s purchase came with certain conditions.” He wondered whether he could pull this off.
“Conditions?” she said in the quiet voice he knew well. Herezah had learned long ago not to fall into the trap of screeching as other women might do, or raising her voice when she disagreed. She had taught herself to harness the emotion into a deadly calm.
Lazar, however, was ready for her. “Yes, that’s right. It’s unusual, I agree.” He contrived a tone of embarrassment. “Valide, this girl was too special to pass up. I thought you might be prepared to make an exception. But I understand if you’d take umbrage at being dictated to by a mere peasant.” He did his best to insult her politely, hoping against hope that she’d rise to his bait and banish both him and the girl. “In fact, if you are offended—and I would not blame you if you were—I shall stand by the rules you have made.”
“Which are?” she asked.
“That the money I spent on her is my loss and I must make it up as best I can.”
“I see,” Herezah said, and he knew he had not won the gamble. Her interest in the girl was too strong, and he knew how she loved to trade words with him.
“So what are these ‘conditions’?” She laced the final word with grim humor and Lazar could hear the men muttering behind him, could imagine the wry smiles on their faces.
“The mother insisted that Ana be permitted freedom one day each month.”
“Preposterous!” Tariq cried on behalf of the Valide, his beard jewels flashing as he shook his head in anger.
Herezah raised a hand. She looked toward Salmeo, a question in her eyes.
“Never previously permitted, Valide Zara,” the eunuch replied, equally outraged.
She nodded and returned her dark gaze to Lazar, who refused to squirm beneath it.
“I understand,” he said, beginning to bow, hoping to remove himself.
“Not so fast, Spur,” she said softly. “The girl is young. What sort of freedom did her mother have in mind for her daughter? Perhaps we could send Salmeo to escort her. She would be veiled completely, of course, at all times.”
Now he did squirm. “Er, well, Valide, I think she rather had in mind something less constricting.”
“Oh?”
“Her mother impressed upon me that Ana is startlingly intelligent. She had hopes that we might be able to encourage learning language, culture—”
“Yes, of course,” Herezah interrupted, “she will get all of that and more if she shows talent.”
“I’m not explaining myself well, Valide. Perhaps it’s because I feel extremely awkward about the full extent of the mother’s conditions.”
Herezah’s patience was wearing thin now. “Why don’t you lay out the full extent of the conditions, Spur, so I can make a firm decision.”
Lazar paused. “She required me to be her escort,” he said firmly.
“You!” Her voice was soft but her fury was unmistakable.
He nodded. “My apologies, Valide. Felluj entrusted this most precious child of hers to me personally. She charged me with Ana’s safety and education. She understood me to be a soldier and decided that I was the most appropriate…um…guardian, for want of a better word.”
The pause—and what wasn’t being said in the dread silence that followed his words—was so palpable and heavy, Lazar felt quite sure it could be cut up, served on a platter, and forced down his gullet. He had played his hand.
“And if I did not choose Ana, Spur, what would you do with her? Make her your own?”
“I would sell her, Valide,” he said, adding an undertone of insult to his voice. “I have no need for a child.”
Herezah’s eyes sparkled in between the slit of the veil. She was loving watching him bristle.
“But you want to be her guardian, is that right?”
He deliberately took a controlled but audible breath to suggest that he was getting tired of this line of questioning. “The promise under which she was sold demanded that I agree to this condition on your behalf. I knew I had no right to do this, Valide Zara, but I believed the girl was worth it. She is special, as I’m sure we all agree, and someone to match minds with Boaz, who is something of a scholar. Ana has the potential to be a fulfilling mate for him, rather than just a plaything. I’m sure you above most would understand such a thing.” His words couched insult with compliment, deliberately. Certainly his final line was meant to remind her that Joreb had chosen her for Absolute Favorite not only because of her beauty and prowess as a lover but because she had a bright, quick mind to match his own.
“One day a month, you say?”
“That’s right. She would be in my care for that full day.”
“She would be fully veiled. No one may look upon her.”
“Of course,” he said indignantly.
“Let me think on this, Spur. Ana must pass her Test of Virtue. Present yourself at the palace for my answer in the late evening tomorrow. We shall take supper together and discuss it. Until then, you are dismissed.”
He bristled silently, hating the position he found himself in, being ordered around by this woman. Supper! Allad save him, he thought, calling upon his homeland god. “Thank you, Valide Zara.” He bowed, and as he did so a loud sneeze exploded from nearby—from behind the walls.
Salmeo looked thunderstruck, and with his single signal, men began to swarm.
“YOU FOOL, KETT,” Boaz rasped, terrified.
“I…I couldn’t help it, Zar. I will not let them know you were here,” the youngster beseeched, scared that he might bring down the wrath of the harem on the Zar. “Run!”
Pez had to admire the young servant’s courage. “No use running. There have been guards at every point since Herezah left her chambers.”
“What can we do?” Boaz asked, his head swiveling from side to side as he looked for an escape.
“There is no escape. We must wait.” They could hear men’s voices, footsteps.
“Wait?” Boaz whispered frantically.
Pez noted how calm Kett appeared, his only show of anxiety the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. The dwarf spoke in a voice Boaz had never heard before. “Boaz, stand close to me.” The Zar spluttered a noise of hesitation but Pez ignored him. “Do it now! We have no more time.”
“What can this possibly do?” Boaz asked, putting his arms around the shoulders of the dwarf, who in turn leaned back against the Zar.
“Hush, Boaz, not a sound!” Pez commanded. “Forgive me, Kett,” he added. “I cannot protect you, as I warned, but you and I will see each other again.”
“Who are you?” Kett asked, his voice trembling but his expression stoic. The voices of the guards grew louder.
“Wait for me,” Pez said. “Betray me not.”
It was all he had time to say before the guards were upon them.
They descended on Kett; the boy made no protest. Boaz couldn’t understand it; they were standing so close to him, it was obvious—surely—that he and Pez would be seen as well. Yet the guards’ gazes appeared to slide past them. The Zar wanted to shout orders at them, demand to be heard, even though they seemed not to see him. His mouth was too dry to utter a sound. Boaz felt as though the glow from the main chamber through the latticework had lit them up like the trees they decorated for the Festival of Light, but the guards ignored the Zar and Pez and simply manhandled Kett away down the corridor. Zar and the dwarf were left alone, the voices and footsteps dissipating as the confusion in the Choosing Room increased.
“Pez,” Boaz whispered, quite sure his bowels had turned to water, “what just happened?”
The dwarf sighed. Boaz was too intelligent to trick. “I told you I could protect us, not him.”
Boaz broke away from his friend, spinning the small man around. “What do you mean by that? The guards were as close as I am to you and they didn’t see us!”
“Hush, High One, or they’ll be back.”
“Tell me how it can be that they saw Kett but not us!”
“Another one of my tricks, Your Majesty” was all Pez would answer.
“No!” the boy growled low. “That was nothing like pulling kerchiefs from your nose or doves from your hat. That was much, much more.”
“Boaz, I have asked you to trust me and I’m going to ask you to indulge me a little longer.”
“What just occurred is impossible,” the Zar moaned, but he was prevented from saying more by Kett’s arrival in the Choosing Room. The boy was hanging limply between the grip of two guards. The Zar’s attention was diverted but he gave Pez a warning glare, their conversation was not done with yet.
“IS THIS WHO was snooping?” Herezah demanded.
“We caught him in one of the corridors behind this chamber, Valide Zara,” one of the Elim answered. As he bowed, the two soldiers dropped Kett between them. The slave kept his head lowered.
Herezah looked to Salmeo, who moved, his huge bulk surprisingly light of tread, to the cringing boy.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “What were you doing in the corridor in a restricted area?”
“Grand Master Eunuch, I was lost,” Kett said, his voice pitiful. “I was hurrying about my duties, I took the wrong entrance—I’m so sorry, sir—I found myself on the other side of the room and knew I shouldn’t be there and I became too frightened to move or make a sound.”
“You weren’t very successful, were you?” Tariq piped up. He looked around, waiting for someone to snicker at his sarcastic jest.
“Forgive me, Grand Master. I tried so hard to stifle my sneeze but that only made it worse.”
Lazar grimaced. He sensed it would get ugly for this child. Salmeo was too cruel to let pass an insult to his authority, particularly such a public one. Glancing behind to Ana, Lazar realized that she was still in the chamber; her minders had not had the opportunity to leave since the interruption.
Ana returned his concerned look, her own expression fearful.
“What is your name, boy?”
“I am Kett, Grand Master Eunuch. I run errands for some of your men, although I hope to join the palace guard when I reach a suitable age. I am the son of Shelah Mohab.” Kett struggled to keep his voice steady. He hoped that mentioning his mother’s name would help his perilous situation.
“Shelah?” Herezah inquired. “My old servant?” She moved to stand beside Salmeo in front of the boy.
Kett bowed low again on his knees, his head touching the pale marble floor. “Valide,” he whispered. “Yes, you were her mistress.”
“I see.” Herezah glanced at Salmeo.
Not to be outdone, the Vizier sidled up beside the Valide and the Grand Master Eunuch. “The penalty is death, surely?”
Salmeo turned to address Herezah, although everyone could hear him. “The Vizier speaks true. Death is the punishment to any unauthorized person who sees the girls of the harem. Guards!”
Lazar, horrified, stepped forward. This boy was clearly an innocent. His life must not be taken. “Valide, if I may be permitted?” Hoping to flatter Herezah, he bowed.
“What is it, Spur?” Herezah asked, pleased by the attention but feigning irritation.
“Thank you, Valide Zara. I don’t believe this boy’s life should be forfeit.”
“How dare you!” Tariq began.
Herezah held up a hand, silencing the Vizier. “Why do you say that, Lazar?” She spoke from behind her veil; he could not see her face but there was laziness to the tone that he knew well—it was seductive and dangerous.
“This boy—and let’s not forget he is only a boy—is innocent of anything sinister, Valide. He has told you that he was lost and it would be generous of you to spare his life.”
Lazar could see the Vizier fuming; Salmeo, though equally angry, was not nearly so obvious. The lids of his eyes had closed slightly, shading the windows into his thoughts.
“He must be punished,” the eunuch said softly.
“And I agree,” Herezah added. “Innocent of intent or otherwise, this boy was where he knew he must not be. It is forbidden.”
“But, Valide, he did not realize until it was too late that he was somewhere he shouldn’t be. He is a child. If he were a man, I would agree he should know better. If he must be punished, so be it, but not death. If I may be so bold, perhaps you might start your son’s reign with a show of mercy, Valide. The palace will learn soon enough of your magnanimous gesture.”
He was daring her into doing something generous, he was counting on her vanity to win through all the obstructions. He held his breath as she watched him intently.
It was at this moment that someone else joined the debate, someone so unexpected that it made Lazar draw in his breath sharply. The situation suddenly turned exquisitely dangerous.
“Valide, High One,” Ana said, sliding in on her knees next to Kett, head bowed to the ground, her creamy back exposed through the transparent sheath.
Salmeo signaled angrily to two eunuchs. “Girl, this is not permitted. You may never address the Valide first! You may never speak in fact unless addressed.”
Herezah smiled slyly. “No, wait. Let’s hear what this girl has to say. Ana?”
“Spare him his life, High One,” Ana said, using all the wrong terminology to address Herezah, not that it offended the woman who gloated above her to be addressed in the manner reserved only for the Zar. She was not looking at Ana, of course, but watching the Spur of Percheron, who stared at the prone figure beneath him, aghast.
“Why should I, Ana?” she continued.
“Because you can. You are all-powerful, Valide. If that is not reason enough, High One, I will exchange something precious for Kett’s life.”
At this Herezah gave a tinkling, affected laugh. “My dear, what can you possibly have that I would want?”
“My freedom, Valide Zara. I relinquish all of it. If I pass the Test of Virtue, I will give up the condition my mother placed upon the Spur. I will remain in the palace for—”
“No!” Lazar interrupted, unable to help himself. It had taken all of his wits to negotiate the release—however limited—of Ana into his care and now she was casting that freedom to the wind. He admired her courage in placing herself at the mercy of such people as Herezah and Salmeo. But his despair was selfish. He wanted to see Ana again, not see her so fully absorbed into the harem that he might never again hear the musical lilt in her voice or watch her beauty settle into full womanhood. “This cannot be permitted, Valide.”
“Why not?” Herezah was relishing every moment of his discomfort. “Ana makes a gracious plea for Kett. Surely you admire it?”
There was little he could say to that. “I made a promise,” he said helplessly.
“And you saw it through to its conclusion. I had already decided to grant Ana the condition you argued for so eloquently. It is Ana’s freedom and so it is hers to give back to me if she so wishes.”
He had not hated Herezah so much in all the time he’d known her as he did at this moment. Clever Herezah had seen through his ploy; she knew how to read men and she had read him like an open book. She could tell that he wanted Ana, and no matter how noble his intentions were, she intended to deny him. And why? he asked himself. Because he would not give himself willingly to her? Because he would give his time and affection to a girl, but not to her, Herezah had found a new way to punish him.
Young Ana could not understand all these undercurrents swirling around her. Innocently she asked, “Will you spare his life, then, Valide Zara?”
“Yes. I will take the precious exchange you offer, Ana,” the Valide said, loading the word precious with sarcasm. “This boy will not be executed,” she added, to the audible disappointment of the Vizier and the relief of the others who were audience to this surprising piece of theater. Salmeo remained unreadable.
“He will, of course, be punished,” Herezah added, and Lazar heard viciousness in her voice.
She addressed the boy now, still bent in obeisance. “Kett.”
“Yes, Valide Zara?”
“Ana here has bought your life with her own freedom. You will not be executed as protocol calls, but I fear you must now join the very place you have trespassed upon.”
Kett looked at her, his bewilderment clear in his expression. “Valide?”
Salmeo however understood. “Call the priests,” he said to his guard.
“Valide,” Lazar began.
“Enough, Spur!” Herezah snapped. “We have indulged you. Please step back.” At her dismissal, the Vizier gave a triumphant glare at Lazar, who had no choice but to do as he was ordered.
“This will not take long, brothers,” Salmeo assured.
“I am going to ask you to step outside for a short while,” Herezah warned those gathered. She glanced Lazar’s way and he knew that beneath the veil, she was smiling.