H ow is your arm this morning, my lion?” Herezah asked, reaching to run her hand through Boaz’s hair, relieved when he didn’t pull away from her touch. She had made a silent promise that she was going to find again that affection they had shared in his early childhood—and Herezah knew it was up to her. Boaz would not give it willingly; he felt he had been deserted by her. He had learned to live without her and now she was going to have to turn that all around. She had begun this morning, coming to her son directly after her meeting with Salmeo.
“It hurts still but the new physician says I will heal fast because I am young and it was a clean break.”
“I never quite understood the gibberish explanation that was passed from Pez. How did it happen again?”
Boaz shrugged, pretending to put a book back on the shelf so she would not see the lie in his eyes. “I fell awkwardly.”
“Because I frightened you, my darling?”
“Yes. But I am stronger now.”
“I know you are,” Herezah cooed, “and I’m impressed.” He was taller than her now. One more summer perhaps and he would be a man. “Boaz, it is vital that you show that same strength now to those around you.”
“It’s a little early to impress myself on the people, Mother. Father’s only been dead a short while.”
She heard the bitterness in his tone. “Nevertheless,” she persisted, following him to the window. “Here, sit with me a moment.” She took his hand and pulled him down beside her. “Precious Light, I don’t mean the people of Percheron as such—not yet anyway. I mean that the people in this palace need to know you as a strong leader. It’s their idle chatter that will pass through the city like wildfire. What they see they won’t hesitate to gossip about, whether good or bad. But you must always remember, no one is your friend, Boaz, except me. I’m the only person who has your absolute best interests at heart.”
Boaz tried not to show his disdain at her claim. “Pez is my friend.”
“He’s a fool and you would do well to be rid of him,” she replied briskly. She softened her tone again. “I know you like the dwarf but you don’t want people thinking your only companion is an idiot.”
Boaz sighed. She was right, of course, but then she didn’t know the truth about Pez. “I have many friends in the palace,” he said.
“Oh? Name one for me.”
“My tutor—”
“Whom I’ve specifically appointed. No, Boaz, name me someone who is a true friend to you, who is not paid to attend you and owes you nothing.”
He hated the way she always needed to be right, never allowed him credit or even the room to make the simplest of decisions. Here she was again all but humiliating him in trying to make her point. There was only one other true friend and it was a name he knew would stick in her craw, for even Boaz could see how his mother craved the attention of the Spur. “Lazar is my friend.” He watched her pause, take a slow breath.
“How true.” She forced a smile and took his hand between hers. “But apart from the Spur, who is not in the palace often enough to be relied upon, you have no real friends.”
“What is your point, Mother? Does any Zar have any real friends? He is the ruler and by his very position is envied or despised or feared.” Boaz removed his hand.
“That is my very point, son, which is why you must count on me and trust me. I am your flesh. I want what is best for you.”
He sighed. “What is it you want of me, Mother?”
Herezah smiled, pleased. At last they could get down to business. “I want you to be more visible.”
“To whom?”
“To those who count, those in authority who influence others.”
He smirked. “The Vizier and the eunuch, you mean.”
She ignored his barb. “You’re going to have to attend dinners, meetings, a lot of tedious gatherings.” She paused. “Some of these events are going to be harder than others.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, playing with the sash of her gown. “Your brothers—”
“Mother! We have been through this. I was injured!”
“I know, my lion. I know. But you were not present for Joreb’s funeral or the festival to commemorate his life, and your absence was noticed.”
“I was still very upset by his death.”
“And I wasn’t?” Herezah challenged. Her son’s defiant gaze faltered. “No matter what’s happening in here”—she pointed to his heart and then to his head—“you must always do your duty and appear strong.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Though Herezah looked to her son to give permission, she knew she had won today’s battle.
“Enter,” Boaz said, distracted.
His private servant, a young man called Bin, stepped in and bowed. “Your High One, Valide Zara.” As both royals nodded, he continued: “I’m sorry to disturb you, Zar Boaz, but the Grand Master Eunuch wishes to speak with the Valide. He says it is urgent.”
“Show him in,” Boaz ordered. After the servant had disappeared again he looked quizzically at his mother. “Trouble?”
She had no time to answer, for Salmeo entered immediately. He too bowed and acknowledged both his superiors. “Forgive my interruption, High One. The Valide Zara asked for this news as soon as it was available.”
“Ah, the girl,” Herezah said. “She’s been found?”
“Yes, Valide. At the bazaar.”
“By the Spur?”
“Yes. They were sharing a kerrosh.”
“Oh?” she replied, stung. “How cozy.”
“She was cold, we were told, and the Spur felt it was necessary to offer some nourishment. They shared pastries too.” Nothing in Salmeo’s bland expression suggested that he was enjoying baiting Herezah.
“So thoughtful of him,” she said in a contrived tone of boredom. “Where are they now?”
“Awaiting you, Valide Zara.”
“Dismiss the Spur. Leave Ana in the harem. She can suffer the wait a little longer at my pleasure.”
“As you command, Valide.” Salmeo bowed and departed, relishing the chance to send the arrogant Spur packing.
“Mother, what is this about?”
“Nothing I can’t handle, dearest one,” Herezah assured her son breezily.
Boaz recalled Pez’s warning. It was vital that he begin to impress upon his mother whose throne she served. His tone bristled. “If you want me to be more visible, Mother, then I demand to be included in all matters relating to the palace. Is that clear?”
Herezah turned, surprised by his sharp tone. This she had not anticipated. “Why, yes, of course.” She felt her own anger stoke but pulled it back just in time. “Forgive me, my son. I just didn’t think it was of importance.”
“I will be the judge of what is important. Tell me what this is about.”
“There is a girl—”
“That much I gathered.”
For the first time Herezah saw Boaz clearly, and as a rival. This journey back into his affections might take longer than she’d thought. She tempered her tone. “I’m sorry, darling. Let me start from the beginning. Last night we made the selection of young women who will form the new harem.” She could not know how he held his breath, relieved beyond belief that she would never know he had been present. “And there was one particular girl called Ana—quite a remarkable child in looks and composure—who obviously hasn’t taken to our hospitality.” She chuckled.
“She ran away?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes, silly girl. Disguised herself with a eunuch jamoosh, blacked up her face with ash, and somehow sneaked out of the palace.” Though Herezah feigned nonchalance, she noticed how her tale fired her son’s imagination—how his dark, intelligent eyes lit up with interest.
“How ingenious,” he said. “I should like to meet this Ana.”
Time to get her own back. She knew how squeamish Boaz could be. “Well, now, that’s a fine idea, Boaz. I shall include you in her interview.”
“For what?”
“For punishment later today,” she said, and smiled demurely at her son as she took her leave.
LAZAR SEETHED SILENTLY, glowering at the all-too-polite Elim guard who reassured him that the Grand Master Eunuch would not keep him long. Jumo, of course, had not been invited into the waiting chamber, and Ana had been whisked away by the red-draped guards who insisted it was their role to escort her into the harem. His only consolation was that Herezah was not there to gloat.
Salmeo must have dropped in on his thoughts, for the Grand Master Eunuch entered at that moment and smiled condescendingly, the smell of violets wafting about him. “Sorry to keep you, Spur.” It had already been two bells since they had arrived. Lazar glared at him.
“This is a delicate matter for the harem, Spur. You must show patience.”
“I think I have.”
“Indeed,” Salmeo replied dismissively. “We have kept you from your duty long enough, which is why we no longer require your presence.”
Lazar could hardly believe what he’d heard. “What sort of jest is this, eunuch?”
“Grand Master Eunuch, if you please,” the huge man corrected, which only served to infuriate Lazar further. “No jest, Spur. The Valide’s orders.”
“Orders? I wish to see her.”
Salmeo closed his eyes and shook his head. “Impossible. She is not seeing anyone today.”
“Then I shall speak with the Zar.”
“He is unavailable,” Salmeo replied curtly.
Lazar forced back his wrath. “This will not do.”
“Spur, if you please, this is no longer a matter for your consideration. The girl is returned—we thank you for aiding in that but she is the property of the Zar. She belongs to the harem and the harem alone will decide her fate.”
“Fate? What are you talking about?” Lazar demanded, hoping to buy some time.
“She is to be punished. It will be private. Look, Spur, you have exchanged the girl for gold; your business here on this matter is concluded. We shall look forward to welcoming you to the palace on your other official duties, but now I must ask you to leave. My men of the Elim will—”
“Don’t bother.” Herezah had put Salmeo up to this, Lazar was sure. He could see her delight flashing in the man’s triumphant gaze. “You may tell the Valide, when she is available, that I wish to speak with her about my position as Spur.”
“I shall do that,” Salmeo promised as Lazar stalked away.
Lazar found Jumo waiting in an open-air walkway that led out to the Moon Courtyard.
“I see it went badly,” Jumo said, hurrying to keep up with the Spur’s long, angry strides.
“That fat lump of dung!” Lazar muttered.
“Where are you going?” Jumo asked as his companion swung down a hallway.
“To find Pez,” was the gruff reply.
THE DWARF WAS SINGING to himself in the library, turning pages of books far too quickly to be reading them. Lazar noticed, however, that Pez was not looking at the books he held and discarded but one volume that lay open on the floor.
“Pez!” he hissed.
The little man looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Yellow?”
“Don’t play with me. This is important.”
“Well, keep your voice lower, then.”
Lazar crouched by Pez on the floor between dusty books and two vast rows of tomes rearing up toward the ceiling. “I need your help.”
“What can I do?” the dwarf whispered, eyes watchful for Habib, the library caretaker.
Lazar understood his worry. “Don’t worry, Jumo’s keeping watch.”
Pez nodded. “Let us speak plainly then. What’s wrong?”
“There’s a girl called Ana who joined the harem last night.”
“Yes, a very special child.”
“You know her?”
“Only by what I gleaned from eavesdropping.”
“Where?”
“Hidden in the corridor during the presentation ceremony.”
“You were there!”
Pez nodded. “So was Boaz.”
“What?”
“They caught the slave…Kett. We escaped.”
It occurred to Lazar to ask how the guards had missed the peeping Zar and his jester, but he had more pressing things on his mind. “That savory episode aside, Ana took fright and escaped last night.” He was pleased that the dwarf didn’t bother with asking how she had done such a thing.
“And Salmeo wants blood?”
“Herezah, of course, is pulling his strings.”
“Of course. How can I help?”
“Just speak to Ana if you can. I don’t think they’ll hurt her. They’ll try to frighten her more than anything. But let her know she has a friend in you. I’ve been banished. They want me nowhere near her.”
“Until you sleep with Herezah, this persecution will continue.”
“In that case, let it continue!” Lazar scorned. “I must go.”
“I shall see if I can find Ana now,” Pez assured. “Boaz is smitten, I’m sure. He hasn’t said much but he’ll get around to talking about it soon enough.”
Lazar didn’t know if this pleased him or not, but at least it protected Ana. “Good, perhaps he can offer her the sanctuary I couldn’t. Thank you, Pez.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve needed an excuse to meet this fascinating creature. Now go, or you’ll get us both into trouble. I’ll send word, I promise.”
“I shall be leaving the city in a few days,” Lazar warned as he left.
Pez adopted his vacant expression and went in search of the child who was at the center of the harem’s controversy. He found a group of girls crying as they were led out of one of the main chambers behind two eunuchs. Another pair of the men brought up the rear. Pez deliberately skipped past the line, twirling and whistling. It didn’t do much to improve the girls’ mood but it cracked a smile on the faces of the lead eunuchs.
“Where do you go?” Pez sang, although he could not see the child he sought among them.
“Even you won’t cheer this lot, Pez,” one man answered. “This is the second group headed for their Test of Virtue.”
Pez reeled away, making odd and senseless rhymes with the word virtue. The girls did not laugh and he couldn’t blame them. He weaved his way among the halls of the harem hoping the girl wasn’t bathing, the water pavilion being the one place from which he was excluded. It seemed strange to be roaming this area, normally full of whispering or excited giggling, plotting or sighing, now so devoid of noise. He found Ana alone in a room of divans, curled up in a window seat and staring out through the lattices.
He sang her name into the silence, and when she turned he saw that she had been weeping.
“Who are you?” she asked, not at all discomfited by his appearance.
He skipped up to join her, hefting his short body onto the seat. “I’m the court idiot. Are we completely alone?” She nodded. “I belong to the Zar. Do you know his name?”
“Boaz?”
“Good girl. Well, I am a friend of Boaz but I am also a friend of yours.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“Because I cannot risk anyone knowing that I am not a fool.”
“Oh.” Her eyes shone. “No one knows?”
He put fingers in the air as he whispered the names of those who shared the knowledge, pasting a manic grin onto his face in case anyone should walk in on them. “The Spur, his shadow Jumo, the Zar, and a priestess called Zafira. No one else except you now.”
“Why can’t people know?”
“Too dangerous,” he mouthed, suddenly leaping up to spin around the room.
She couldn’t help but grin at him. “And you trust me with such a secret. Why is that? You don’t know me. I don’t even know your name.”
“I am Pez. I trust you because of Lazar. He trusts no one, of course, but he seems to care about you.”
She looked suddenly awkward, shy. “Did he send you?”
“Yes.”
“Why is it dangerous for anyone to know about you, Pez?”
“Because it is. You have to trust me but you must trust no one else in the harem. None of its odalisques, none of the eunuchs or other slaves. Do you understand?”
She nodded, wide-eyed. “You’d better do another twirl around the room.”
“Has anyone said anything to you since you were returned to the harem?” he asked as he returned to her.
Ana sighed. “They’ve told me nothing. The eunuchs who wear red asked me to wait here. Where are the other girls?”
“I met some of them in the halls. They were facing their Test of Virtue.” He watched her defiant expression falter and understood she must have already undergone the humiliating ritual.
“The Grand Master Eunuch is detestable.”
“That’s his intention. He wants you to loathe him. It makes him more powerful.”
“He wants to frighten me.”
“And did he, Ana?”
She shook her head, defiant once again. “No, I just hate him, that’s all.”
“In truth, you would all have had to face the unpleasant test anyway.”
“Except outside the harem, it would be done by a trusted woman, and only when I was facing marriage. Not done by some fat, sweaty eunuch who has the desire but nothing save his groping finger to satisfy it.”
Pez remained silent, sympathizing with the horror of Ana’s memories.
“I don’t like men,” she suddenly said.
“Don’t you like me?”
“Except you,” and as she touched his arm, Pez felt a thrill of something pass through him, something that made him feel suddenly safe.
“And Jumo. Surely you liked him?” he continued.
“Oh, I do. Jumo is lovely.”
“Lazar? I admit he’s hard to like. In fact—”
“Yes,” she cut across his words. “I do like Lazar…very much. I’m just not sure if he likes me.”
“Take no notice of his brooding silences. If Lazar speaks to you, he likes you. He usually kills those he doesn’t like and those he can’t kill he simply ignores.”
She exploded into laughter and Pez smiled at the sweet sound.
“You have a wonderful laugh, Ana. It’s like birdsong and sunshine, a sea breeze and the scent of peryse, all thrown into one delicious sound.”
“How can a laugh have a smell, Pez?” she said, smiling, liking his imagery. She loved the delicate peryse blooms that only flowered briefly in spring for a short burst of spectacular color and their soft yet somehow intense fragrance.
“Well, your laugh conjures an image of a field of peryse flowers.”
“Everyone else is right, you know; you’re definitely mad.”
He leaped from the seat and began to dance again.
“Do you know what they’re going to do with me, Pez?” Ana asked, suddenly sounding nervous.
And he too became serious. “They will need to punish you, Ana, as a warning to the other girls. To my knowledge no one has ever escaped the harem before, so they’ll use you as an example.”
“They’ll hurt me, then?”
Pez looked into her trusting face and knew he couldn’t lie to her. “Not to the point of marking you. Something brief and scary for the others but transient, I imagine. Lazar asked me to tell you to be of stout heart. He will see what can be done.”
“He can’t save me this.”
“From what I hear he’s already stuck his neck out for you, child. He won’t stop now. Lazar is one of the most intense people I know and the most driven. I imagine when he loves, he loves hard and in a single-minded fashion.”
Ana dropped her gaze, blushing. “Are you saying he loves me?”
“I’m saying he will never allow someone he considers a friend to suffer if he can help it. Not very much stands in his way if he wants something.”
“Except Herezah,” she said, remembering the previous night and the way the Valide’s eyes had so often glanced toward him.
“Be careful, Ana. The Valide is more dangerous than you can imagine. You must ingratiate yourself with her—far more than with Salmeo even.”
She didn’t reply but nodded her understanding.
“And now I must go,” he said.
“Must you? Can’t you keep me company?”
“I want to check on Kett.”
“The slave boy?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come?”
“No, you must—” Pez heard footsteps and he immediately began cartwheeling, just as three Elim arrived.
“Miss Ana?” one said politely, bowing slightly.
“Yes?”
“We have come to fetch you.”
“Anything to save me from this fool,” Ana replied haughtily, pointing to the spinning dwarf.
Pez felt his heart lurch for the girl. She sounded so brave and yet he knew she must be terrified. “Where does little Ana go?” he sang at the men, darting in front of them and pulling their sashes.
“Not now, Pez,” the leader said.
“I must know or I shall start to screech.” He’d done this once before; the man must have remembered, because he instantly capitulated. “She is to be flogged. Valide’s orders.”
Flogged? In her shock Ana could only repeat the word soundlessly.
“Then take her away,” Pez managed to sing, though his heart was racing with fear, before he twirled out of the room and hit the hallway running at full tilt.
He had to find Lazar.
“IT’S PEZ, MASTER. He says it’s urgent.”
“Bring him in.” Lazar turned to step inside from the balcony and saw that Pez was already present. The dwarf offered no salutation. “What?” Lazar asked, his gut twisting with worry.
“They’re going to flog her,” Pez said, still breathing deeply from his run.
Lazar looked to his manservant. “A horse, Jumo.” The dark man turned and hurried from the room. “How much time have I got?”
“Little. The Elim fetched her whilst she and I were talking.”
“Knowing Herezah, she’ll want to turn it into a spectacle.”
“In which case you can still make it before they begin.”
Lazar crossed the vast chamber in six strong strides. “Will you be all right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to his friend.
“Don’t worry about me. Just get to Ana and think of something quickly, Lazar.”
Pain mingled with frustration on the Spur’s face. “That’s just it, I have no idea how to save her. I’ve been racking my mind all morning.” His voice sounded hollow.
“Get a message to Boaz,” Pez said. “You could claim the Right of Protectorship!”
His words turned the agony on the Spur’s hardened features to dawning realization and relief. “Thank you, Pez,” he said simply.
Pez suspected that the Spur felt more for this young woman than he cared to admit, probably even to himself. The Right of Protectorship claimed no small sacrifice. The dwarf shook his head, for if he was truthful, there was something about Ana that compelled him too.
Jumo returned, disrupting his thoughts. “What’s he planning? He wouldn’t say.”
“Right of Protectorship for Ana.”
“May Zarab save us,” Jumo said, touching hand to lip in a calling to the great god. He looked so fearful it sent a fresh wave of guilt through Pez for having even suggested the idea. “Herezah will love it.”
Pez nodded in agreement.
“Come, let me take you back in the cart,” Jumo offered. “Lazar’s going to need all the help we can give.”
LAZAR REACHED THE PALACE in minutes, leaping from his horse and throwing the reins at his men. Patrolling soldiers saluted, fist on head then heart, but he didn’t acknowledge any of them.
Once inside, he ran directly to the office of the Vizier. Tariq kept a suite of rooms at the palace for official duties. It was a stroke of luck that the bejeweled peacock of a man happened to step out of his chamber the moment Lazar barged into the suite.
“Tariq, I must speak with you urgently,” he bellowed.
“My, my, Spur. This is most unusual. Can we not set an appointment?” The Vizier’s oily manner never failed to stoke the embers of anger that always glowed within Lazar.
“Do you think I would come to you like this if the matter could wait?” With effort, Lazar controlled his wrath—it would get him nowhere. “I would appreciate your help, Vizier,” he added contritely.
“I see. Come in.” Tariq’s tone was bland and disinterested but he was clearly relishing this show of unnatural humility in the Spur.
Lazar stalked past him and closed the door of the ostentatiously appointed chamber he rarely found himself in. He remembered now why he hated to speak with the Vizier in his rooms. The man’s choice in furnishings and decor was incredibly vulgar. Everything about him was contrived. And besides, he knew how much Tariq disliked him. It had never bothered him but it made their dealings tense. When Joreb was in power, it had been easier for Lazar to work with virtual autonomy, but with Herezah now pulling Boaz’s strings, that would be impossible. Lazar suddenly felt revolted by the notion that he was now somehow beholden to this fool of a Vizier who had the ear of the Valide and thus of the Zar. He forced himself to be polite. “I must speak with the Zar.”
Tariq made an irritating noise of condescension, as if scolding a child. “That won’t be possible, Spur. He is taking some quiet time for reflection and study.”
“I wouldn’t make such a request if it were not important.”
“So you say. But so is the enrichment of the Zar’s knowledge. Could anything be more important in fact, hmm?” the Vizier asked, jewels twinkling in the shaft of sunlight in which he had deliberately chosen to position himself.
Lazar knew it was pointless to argue. “Then will you get a note to him on my behalf?” he said, adding: “Please, Tariq.”
The man quivered slightly at the humble tone in Lazar’s voice. “I shall do my best.” He pointed to a small table in the corner. “There is a tablet of paper; use what you will and ink is in that pot—I shall order a runner.”
“Thank you.” Lazar wasted not another moment in scribbling out a rushed message, folding it, and placing it into the small silken purse the Vizier indicated. “One more thing. I now need to speak with the Valide Zara.” He saw the Vizier open his mouth to say the obvious but Lazar cut him off. “Don’t tell me this is impossible. I am the Spur of Percheron and require access to the most senior person in the palace. If I am not able to speak with the Zar personally, my rank demands I be given an audience with the Valide.” And then he added: “I would not ask if it was not critical.”
“Spur, this is not the way we—” Interrupted by a soft knock at the door, the Vizier snapped, “Enter.”
A servant stepped into the room, bowing deeply. Lazar was relieved to see the silken purse put into the man’s hands. Now that the message was on its way, he could be more forceful.
“Hurry please,” he added to Tariq’s instructions, and the servant nodded and left promptly. Turning back to the Vizier, who was no longer in sunlight, Lazar realized the man looked decidedly gaunt and old. It was hard to tell his age because he hid behind so much decoration, but perhaps for the first time, Lazar realized that this was Tariq’s last chance to stamp his mark on Percheron; he would not survive another shift in power. This was the moment to play on the man’s fears. “I know this is not usual. But the circumstances are not usual either. I’ve told you it’s important, and if you ignore this request, Tariq, then I will be forced to use all my status to make this go badly for you.”
“How dare you threaten me!” The Vizier fairly shook with indignation.
“That is not my intention. I’m trying to impress upon you how important it is that I see the Valide.”
“And you will not share this important matter with me?”
“Tariq, you are more than welcome to join the meeting, but if you don’t organize an immediate audience, I will make my own way to the Valide’s suite right now.”
It was an audacious threat; Lazar had no permission to enter the harem. The Vizier looked horrified by the suggestion but he knew that challenging the Spur to defy palace rules would only ensure that they were broken. The man was a law unto himself. May Zarab rot his soul! And what if his news really was important? The Valide would be furious if she found out he hadn’t allowed it to be passed on. Thinking of the Valide made Tariq frown. Unless he ingratiated himself fully with her, he would remain her puppet. Or she might choose to crush him and leave him nothing, perhaps not even his life. And she a slave! He himself came from a fine family with a proud lineage. This woman had been bought in a slave market where a representative of the harem had dug his finger into her mouth and checked her teeth while she stood naked and humiliated. Now she ruled the country!
Wasn’t getting rid of powerful women the way of Maliz? Tariq’s frown turned into a smile as he thought of the demon, not even realizing how easily its name slipped into his mind. Oh yes, Maliz’s mission had been to undermine and destroy the power of the priestesses, to prevent Percheron from worshipping the Goddess, and to replace her with gods, like Maliz’s own master, Zarab, upon whom everyone now called.
Maliz’s whispered promises made Tariq feel as though he too could be like Lazar, showing disdain for rules, always assuming he knew best. And what if he could look younger and more handsome too? Perhaps Maliz could help rid Tariq of Herezah as well and he could take her role as chief adviser to the Zar. The demon was still waiting for his answer. In truth, Tariq was terrified. If he was honest with himself, he admitted that he still had not come to terms with the fact that the demon had sought him out, that something he had always considered only folklore was suddenly so real.
Suddenly he realized that the Spur was glaring at him, still waiting for an answer. The arrogance of the man—oh, how he longed to make him suffer!
And you will if you say yes, the familiar voice whispered, obviously eavesdropping on his thoughts. I will help you to do just that…but not yet. Give him what he seeks. I promise you will have the last laugh.
I must capitulate? Tariq answered, aghast. What good is that to me?
Wait and see, Maliz promised, laughing deeply and darkly in his mind.
“I’m waiting, Tariq,” Lazar reminded him, tiring of the long time the Vizier was taking to consider his request.
The Spur’s voice jolted Tariq from his thoughts. He was torn. Follow his own instincts or follow Maliz’s? The demon seemed to know something he did not. If he took Maliz’s advice, it would be a signal that he was ready to take the next step. Was he ready to give Maliz what he wanted?
Lazar made a sound of impatience.
“All right, Spur!” Tariq replied, angered. “I shall organize your visit. Wait outside, if you please.”
“I don’t have time to—”
Perhaps it was Maliz’s laugh that gave him spine. “Do as I say. Sit outside and wait until I can contact the Valide Zara and get permission. That is the best I can do.” Tariq was even able to hold the Spur’s steely gaze without flinching or backing down.
Lazar sighed. “Thank you. You might as well call the Grand Master Eunuch into the meeting. It concerns him too.” And he turned away.
TARIQ STOOD BEFORE HEREZAH in one of the palace salons, quietly fuming that Salmeo, who had been summoned by the Vizier’s staff, had somehow sidled his huge bulk to stand beside the Valide Zara, giving the impression that they were both in authority and Tariq a mere servant delivering a message. When he bowed to the Valide, it felt as though he was also bowing to the eunuch. This was not lost on Salmeo, of course, who wore a soft smirk along with the voluminous, brightly colored silks today.
“Well, the Grand Master Eunuch is here now. Vizier, what is it that you had to say to us?” Herezah asked from behind her veil, her tone conveying her annoyance at being interrupted.
“I do apologize, Valide Zara, for disrupting your day.”
“Tariq,” she began again testily, “why am I being disrupted?”
No opportunity to string this conversation out, to make himself feel important. “The Spur is here, Valide. He insists on being permitted an audience with you. I requested that the Chief Master Eunuch be present only because the Spur asked.” He allowed a brief smile to touch his own lips, glad that he had made it clear that he did not consider Salmeo important enough to be called into meetings as a matter of course.
He was irritated to see a glance pass between the eunuch and the Valide. They knew something. They knew why Lazar was there!
Of course they do, Maliz breathed into his mind.
“And what does the Spur want, Vizier? Have you established that much?” Salmeo asked, all sweetness.
Tariq felt his gut twist. The eunuch was doing this deliberately to unsettle him. How could the Valide allow him to usurp her authority by speaking for her?
He ignored Salmeo and directed his answer to Herezah. “He asked me to be present too, Valide. This obviously concerns all of us.”
“Not really you, Vizier, but I shall hear him out. Send him in.”
Normally, Tariq would have bowed and turned to do Herezah’s bidding but he had taken the precaution of bringing his secretary with him. Still bristling from her direct insult, he looked toward the man who lurked at the very end of the chamber and gave him a signal, intensely pleased that his foresight allowed him to not bow again.
Maliz’s voice broke into his thoughts. Why don’t you ask them more about why the Spur is so insistent? As vizier it’s important, you know, Maliz suggested. Or perhaps I shall tell you instead. This is about a girl; the one presented by the Spur, the one who caused such a fuss. She went missing last night after Salmeo had left her. It’s the Grand Master Eunuch’s fault.
Tariq felt a sharp spike of pleasure course through him. Maliz had his advantages. “Valide, may I ask if this has anything to do with the girl Ana? I hear she went missing last night, slipped past the Elim and mocked the Grand Master Eunuch…” He watched the rope of a scar twitch on Salmeo’s face and his eyes become hooded with suppressed outrage.
Ah, the fat one didn’t like that, Maliz cackled. Hurt him more. Go on!
“If the Grand Master Eunuch needs assistance in policing these children, I’m more than happy to organize a higher level of guard around the harem, Valide,” Tariq offered, infusing his tone with innocence.
Maliz laughed. Good.
Salmeo didn’t wait for the Valide to answer. His voice came sharp, each word a dagger. “That will not be necessary, Vizier. It was a momentary lapse and it will never occur again.”
Tariq raised an eyebrow. “If a mere child can slip through your net—”
“Zarab strike you—”
“Stop!” Herezah admonished. “Perhaps it is a good idea to intensify the Elim guard around the harem. The girls these days are far too assured.”
Tariq bowed to her authority, feeling smug. Salmeo uttered nothing, but his body language said more than enough.
Oh, he’s going to make you pay for that, Maliz observed, full of glee.
He can try, Tariq replied, charged with confidence from the barbed discussion.
That’s the spirit, Vizier, and with my help and presence, you will prevail over the fat eunuch. Think about it. I shall expect your answer by this evening. Then, without warning, the voice was gone.
Herezah had moved to sit on a simple bench, her regal bearing suggesting she was on a throne. “Where have you planned the flogging to take place, Salmeo?”
“Since we agreed to keep it private, I thought it best to conduct Ana’s punishment in the Courtyard of Sorrows.”
“Very good.”
Although Tariq did not understand what they were talking about, he asked for no explanation. He could work this out for himself.
The Spur was shown in. “Valide,” he said, bowing briefly. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“You are head of Percheron’s guard and of her security, Spur. Why should I refuse you?” Herezah smoothly replied, then added: “Ever.”
Lazar pretended not to hear her couched invitation. “I am here today about Ana, the girl I brought to Percheron.”
“The girl you sold to the harem,” Salmeo qualified.
Ignoring the interruption, Lazar continued: “Valide, as you know, I returned her to the harem after her escape last night. Frankly, I’m as horrified as anyone else by the fact of her escape but I’d like to know what terrified her so.” He glared at Salmeo.
“Lazar,” Herezah began softly, naming him to ensure she gave the impression that they were friends, “Ana may be remarkable in looks and spirit but she cannot be treated any differently from the other odalisques, not until she can claim status as favorite or wife.” Then in a more condescending manner, but still laced with gentle concern: “You do understand, don’t you, Spur?”
Lazar felt his limbs stiffen at being so belittled but he forced himself to appear at ease. “Of course, Valide. I would not suggest otherwise. It’s just that—”
“You see,” she interrupted, “the Test of Virtue is never a pleasant event for any girl, but we must all face it during our lives. It was simply Ana’s turn last night.”
“I am aware of that, Valide. I came here today not to argue that case but to find out what your plan is for Ana.”
“My plan?” Herezah repeated, a hint of derision creeping into her voice.
Sensing the turn of her mood, Lazar humbled himself. “Yes, Valide. You see, as I never took any gold in exchange for Ana, I feel I do still have a small claim as her owner.”
“Do you indeed?” Herezah was angry now. “Is this correct?” she asked Salmeo.
“Valide, I have no such knowledge. I can check, of course, but even if the Spur did turn down the gold, that hardly required the harem to renege. We offered payment; it is the Spur’s decision whether he wants to accept it.”
“That’s right,” Lazar chimed in. “I am not making any claim on Ana; I am simply making an inquiry as to your position on her lack of foresight last night. Her immaturity, the newness of her surroundings, the strangeness of Percheron—and let’s not forget the cutting of the slave—would have heightened her emotions, made her unstable. She is, after all, still young.”
“I was far younger than Ana when I had to face the test, Spur, and I did not flee.”
“Perhaps it did not occur to you, Valide. Perhaps the opportunity to do such a thing was not available. Presumably the Grand Master Eunuch failed in his supervision of this child. I am assuming she was left alone with access to her disguise?” Lazar watched the huge eunuch bristle. “Perhaps it is the Master of the Eunuchs who deserves the reprimand here, Valide, not the girl.”
Herezah did not so much as blink. “You could be right, Spur. And I will consider such a measure, but Ana must bear the consequences of her own actions. As you say, she is young, but of an age when we can all be responsible—you might consider that my own son rules Percheron at fifteen. I was already a wife at this same age—a mother, in fact. It may be a tender age but it is not an immature one, Spur. Ana made a very unwise decision and one, I’m sure, given her intelligence, she understood would have repercussions.”
Lazar knew he had lost this argument. He could not talk Ana free of punishment. It was obvious that Herezah and Salmeo intended to press ahead, that they were meeting with him purely for diplomatic reasons. He took a steadying breath, knowing what he was about to put in place would cost him dearly. As Herezah finished her speech, he felt a tingling sensation near his hip. He reached into the pocket of his loose robe and felt the warmth of Iridor. It gave him courage. “May I ask what her punishment is to be?”
“I suppose it is of no consequence to tell you.” Herezah looked toward Salmeo to do the honors—a small crumb of revenge for him after the Spur’s cutting words.
“It is the decision of the harem, which will always mete out punishment to its own, that the odalisque Ana will be flogged—thirty lashes.”
Lazar blanched. “Valide! She is a child, she cannot withstand such a thing.” He saw with disgust how his plea sent a shiver of delight through the veiled woman.
“And if she flags during her punishment,” Salmeo continued firmly, “she will be permitted a day’s recovery before completing the remaining lashes.”
Lazar barely heard the eunuch’s final words. His gaze was locked on Herezah’s. Her dark eyes sparkled with triumph. She knew she had him right where she wanted him.
“In that case, Valide,” Lazar said, bowing low, “I must invoke the Right of Protectorship.”
The words hung in the air amid a shocked silence. Such a thing had not been claimed in living memory, though they all knew full well what it meant. The rule of protectorship was enmeshed in the tapestry of the harem’s existence, even though a lowly odalisque could rarely win the notice of someone powerful enough to offer her protection, which is why the women within the harem schemed and made alliances. In its history, an odalisque had won right of protectorship only twice, and on both occasions the girl had had the backing of a compassionate Zar. To have someone beyond the harem or not of royal stature make such a request was a novelty and something of a challenge to the palace hierarchy.
“I’m sorry, do you know what that involves?” Lazar asked, infusing his tone with condescension.
“We know,” Tariq said brusquely. “You will take the punishment on behalf of the girl.”
“That’s right. Valide, the law says—”
“I know what the law states, Spur,” Herezah snapped. “But you forget that you need the sanction of the Zar first.”
“He has it,” Boaz announced, entering the room theatrically. Lazar felt his insides loosen with relief as he dropped a bow to their ruler along with everyone else in the chamber.
“Mother, quite frankly, I cannot condone the lashing of one so young. I find it, well…distasteful, to say the least.”
“Mighty One,” Salmeo began, bowing again for good measure, “the harem has a right to punish its own without the Zar’s…interceding.”
“I understand that, Grand Master Eunuch.” Boaz’s tone was measured. “But the Spur here has the right to make the claim. The girl was his find. This is also the law of the harem, is it not?”
“It is, Zar,” Salmeo admitted grudgingly.
“And I for one would rather a man be flogged than a young woman. I’m sure Lazar can handle thirty lashes of the Sparrow’s Tongue.”
Herezah smirked coldly behind her veil. “Except, my son, the method of flogging is purely the choice of the harem.” Her tone was so icy the very atmosphere in the chamber became brittle.
“What do you mean?” Boaz queried, faltering for the first time.
“She means that the Elim will choose what to whip me with,” Lazar said, a bitter smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His eyes were locked with Herezah’s, both dueling, both determined to hurt the other.
“Is this right?” Boaz demanded, looking at the Vizier.
Tariq replied, “Yes. The Elim alone make the choice of weapon.”
Boaz’s face fell. Lazar felt a rush of sympathy for the youngster. He shouldn’t have been crushed like this, not when he was just beginning to flex his authoritative muscle.
“Your High One,” he said, bowing, “I accept. Thank you for giving me your sanction to claim the Right of Protectorship.”
“Zarab be merciful upon you,” Boaz replied, knowing it was the best he could do. “Where is this Ana? I would speak with her.”
“She is not yet ready, son,” Herezah said.
“She’s ready enough to take your punishments, Mother,” Boaz said firmly, knowing she would despise being spoken to with such disdain in front of these men, particularly Lazar. “She’s therefore more than ready enough to meet her Zar. Have her readied for a meeting with me, Salmeo.” When Salmeo looked toward Herezah, Boaz snapped, “Is there a problem, Grand Master Eunuch, in taking an order from your Zar? Do you need sanction from the Valide as well?”
“Of course not, High One,” the huge man replied, admonished. “I shall see to it immediately. What about the Spur?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Lazar’s voice was caustic. “Just tell me where you want me to be.”
“The Courtyard of Sorrows,” Herezah said, wresting back some authority as Boaz stalked away. “And Ana must be present. She must understand what her actions have caused. “She nodded to Salmeo. “See to it.”
THE ELIM HAD BEEN given strict instructions. Ana was to be bathed and dressed in a particular white robe that could be slipped off her shoulders to reveal her back for the flogging, but new orders arrived as the slaves were hurriedly tying up her hair. She could not hear what was being said but she could tell that the eunuch in charge of proceedings was filled with consternation. Stepping into the small bathing chamber after the Elim had left, he whispered to the senior slave. Then he too departed, leaving Ana alone with the two women who were preparing her.
“What’s happening?” Ana asked.
“You are to be dressed in a different robe. Step out of that one, please, Miss Ana.”
“Why?”
“You are not to be flogged.”
Relief flooded through her, although she couldn’t imagine why the harem had changed its usual course of punishment. “Tell me, please, what has occurred?” she begged the middle-aged slave who was pulling the white gown from her shoulders.
“I have no information, Miss Ana, other than to dress you in more formal clothes.”
She got nothing further from the woman. Ana cooperated meekly, climbing into soft silk trousers and allowing a long silk jamoosh of pale blue to be draped over her until only her eyes showed.
“You must wait now, my lady, in the adjoining chamber. The Elim will come for you.”
The slave led Ana next door. And then departed. She had not been in the same room twice since arriving at the palace and could only wonder at how many hallways and palatial rooms the harem contained. She sat alone on a divan, her head bowed and the doors guarded. Ana felt alone and confused. The notion of what had occurred to prevent her punishment kept nagging; something or someone important must have interfered, for she felt sure neither Herezah nor Salmeo would permit her to escape the harem’s disciplinary action. There was no one those two schemers answered to save the Zar himself. Did this mean Zar Boaz had stepped in? It seemed impossible. He didn’t even know her, had not laid eyes upon her. Suddenly the comfort of escaping retribution for her daring actions turned sour, crytallizing into something more sinister. Although frightening, the thought of the flogging was preferable to the unknown. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, and as if on cue, there was a sudden activity at the main doors and the dwarf came bounding through.
“Pez!” she cried, never so relieved to see anyone in her life.
He was pulling silk handkerchiefs from his sleeves, his nose, his mouth, and his ears. “I wish I were a fish who could fly through the ocean,” he cackled, jumping and singing his nonsense tune. Suddenly he threw himself to the floor and stared up at the painted ceiling. “Are they watching?” he whispered.
Ana glanced toward the guards and shook her head. “How did you get past them?”
“I’m mad, remember. No one cares about me.”
“Do you know what’s happening?”
“It’s Lazar. He’s claimed the Right of Protectorship for you.”
“What does that mean? They’ve told me I won’t be whipped today.” From the divan where she sat looking down upon the dwarf, she sensed that something grave had occurred.
“That is because Lazar will take the flogging on your behalf.”
“Oh no!” she cried, standing up abruptly. The guards looked around but without much interest. They’d seen dozens of girls get easily upset, especially around the dwarf. Smirking, they turned away again.
Pez hurried to reassure her. “Ana, hush. Lazar will be fine. He is a toughened soldier.”
“How was he allowed to do this?”
Pez sat up but turned his back on the men so they could not see his lips moving. Ana took his hint and did the same as Pez explained. “The Right of Protectorship stretches back centuries and it was only because of an ancient yet infamous instance of it being invoked that it remains in the history books today. A wife of the Zar had made him cuckold to a eunuch.”
“How can that be?” she interrupted.
“The eunuch’s cutting had not been done properly and he had hidden this fact, managing to continue carnal relations whilst living among the eunuch community. He would have gotten away with his sexual activities if not for falling in love with one of the wives. She became pregnant and the Grand Master Eunuch knew it was not possible that she was pregnant by the Zar. The girl refused to reveal her lover, such was her devotion to him, and so the Zar, incensed, ordered her death. The smitten eunuch stepped forward and claimed the right to be executed on her behalf, invoking one of the oldest laws of Percheron: that a person can escape punishment if another accepts it instead.”
“Oh, so this is custom?”
“In Percheron, yes. I don’t know of anywhere else where such a law exists. The eunuch was immediately ganched, a hideously slow and painful death that involves being thrown onto hooks. Wherever on the body those cruel hooks snag is where the victim is suspended, eventually to die.”
Ana flinched. “And my punishment is a mere whipping,” she muttered.
“You have not cuckolded the Zar. There is no greater treachery within the harem.”
“Do they still ganche people today?”
“Oh yes. Though there hasn’t been one in a long time—I suspect we’re due.”
“How is Lazar?”
“Determined, aloof, angry as always.”
“How can I thank him? How do I repay him?”
“By staying out of trouble, Ana. They have you marked now as rebellious. You must conform as best you can if you are to survive. I imagine Salmeo has been deeply humiliated by this event—even more so now that you’re escaping his punishment.”
“You think he’ll want revenge?”
“I do, so you must not make it easy for him to take it. Stay out of his sight, Ana. Blend into the harem with the other girls and be dutiful. Learn all that they ask of you and perform your tasks diligently. Survive.”
Thoughtfully, the girl nodded. “Can you take a message to Lazar for me?”
“Of course.”
“Will you tell him that he is free of me? He is no longer beholden in any way. I am alone now and I accept this. I will be a dutiful odalisque, as you suggest. I bear no ill will toward him and I am”—she hesitated—“happier for knowing him.”
Pez said nothing. He didn’t have to. They sat in sad silence for a few minutes until the Elim arrived.
“It is time, Miss Ana,” one said. “Be off with you, Pez,” he added, pulling a face of disgust as the dwarf picked his nose, humming tunelessly. “You will have to get used to the dwarf, Miss Ana,” the man said more kindly. “He has the run of the harem. We cannot stop him from being here.”
“He doesn’t trouble me,” she answered, feigning indifference. “He doesn’t even talk to me—he just seems to murmur nonsense all the time.”
“He’s been like this for years but he belongs to the Zar and, as such, is untouchable. Now, if you’ll come with us.”
Pez pushed himself to his feet and groped his crotch, then pointed to Ana. “This one will please the Zar,” he said, giggling maniacally before running out the door.