B efore he went to find Ana, Pez returned to his own chamber, the parchment scratching against his skin as he closed his door on the day’s events. For no reason he could explain, he felt all of his skin itch in anticipation; every inch of his being was prickling with expectation.
Checking first through the windows to make sure that no one was around outside, he took the extra precaution of sitting on the floor next to a huge painted chest of drawers that held his silks. It completely covered him from view should someone suddenly decide to look through those windows. He remembered now as he unfolded the note why the youngster who had brought it was familiar to him. He had been present in the Courtyard of Sorrows, as Shaz’s assistant, who had carried the Viper’s Nest behind the apprentice. A fresh wave of foreboding washed over the dwarf. Pez opened the note, recognized with a chill the handwriting despite the scrawl, and finally, hardly daring to breathe, read its terrifying contents.
HE COULDN’T KNOW how long he had stared at the note. Many minutes had passed, he was sure, as he had read and reread in disbelief.
“The note tells no lie,” said a familiar voice. Pez looked up to see a dazzling young woman standing before him.
“Why am I not surprised to see you?” he said, anger simmering not only for what he’d read but for her audaciousness in coming here again.
“I sense your distress,” she answered levelly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it anything so mild as distress. Betrayal is the word that leaps to mind, treachery perhaps. A good man died today.”
“So I saw,” she replied softly.
“And it had no effect on you, I see,” he said darkly.
“What I noted most was that he didn’t suffer. That was one of your best performances.”
“Losing life before one’s time is not suffering?”
“I won’t debate this with you now, Pez,” she said, suddenly losing interest. “There are more important things to discuss.”
“More important…” His voice trailed off into silent rage. He pointed a gnarled finger, punctuating his remarks with furious jabs. “I’m not part of your intrigue, Ellyana. I will not be coerced as you have coerced others. “He paused, then added, “Neither, I’d wager, will Jumo.”
The strange woman sighed. “Yes, I imagine he will be vengeful.”
“Ready to kill, in fact. And with every right after what happened—the way you manipulated him and everything connected with Lazar’s death.”
“I understand your anger—”
He interrupted her with a sound of disgust. “Where?”
“You will know soon enough.”
He nodded wearily. He had not been expecting such a straight answer. “Leave me. I want nothing more to do with you.”
“Not before I finish what I came here to tell you. Hate me all you wish, Pez, but I am not your enemy.”
“Who needs enemies?” he bit back.
“You have one. He is already hunting you—he senses you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pez asserted, though his tone was uncertain and he felt his stomach turn over unpleasantly.
“Yes, you do. You have the owl. It has marked you. I know you’ve lied that the whiteness of your hair was achieved with dye. That white is her permanent mark. You remember the dreamscape too—I can see in your eyes how it haunts you. You know who you are.”
“I am Pez,” he growled.
“You are hers! You are Iridor!” she hissed. Her beauty faded with her angry demeanor: her creamy complexion turned to translucent, parchmentlike skin; her eyes, originally a startling blue, turned milky and she shrank before him. Even in this guise, she blazed power but he was not cowed.
“Who are you, Ellyana?” he demanded.
“You know enough about yourself now to understand that the rising of Iridor is prompted by a visit from the crone.”
“The Mother?”
“An embodiment of her, a Messenger for her, a servant. Call me what you will,” she said, suddenly gentle. “I repeat, I am not your enemy, Pez. We are allies in the same struggle.”
“For the Goddess, you mean.” He finally admitted to himself what had been troubling him since the frightening dream at the Sea Temple. It turned his blood to ice to say her name aloud because the whole notion that he was one of her disciples, her closest in fact, terrified him. “Go on, admit it,” he pushed. Ellyana spoke such provocative words without ever explaining herself. That would stop—must stop—now.
“Yes, it’s true. For the Mother Goddess. Iridor is almost fully risen, Pez, and he heralds her next coming.”
“I don’t understand any of it,” he said, waving her away in a desperate bid to rid himself of this frightening new responsibility.
“You won’t understand…not until you change.”
“Change?”
“That’s what I came to finish telling you. You must transform entirely now.”
“Into what?” he asked, astounded.
“Iridor’s true form.”
And that’s when it all fell into place. Pez sensed a click in his mind, as if a final jigsaw-puzzle piece had slotted into position. He knew. Had in fact known all his life. Her words felt as though they suddenly completed him. It was as if his previous life was simply a vessel and now that vessel, no longer required, lay shattered in hard, jagged bits about him. “The owl?” he whispered, still not wanting to believe.
“Look in the mirror. You’re almost there.”
Pez tried once again, adopting his more regular sarcastic tone. “I am a shrunken, deformed, mad dwarf, Ellyana, or hadn’t you noticed?”
“You are Iridor for this battle,” she said softly and with such affection it almost reduced him to tears. “You are also Pez, dear one. You don’t have to give up who you have been but you must accept who you are. Don’t be afraid—it is your destiny. You have been chosen, as have all of us.”
Pez frowned as another dark thought struck. “And Maliz?”
She nodded grimly. “Has risen. He is amongst us.”
“Already?” Pez felt his stomach knot with fear. “How will I know him?”
“You won’t. Not yet. It’s always the same. But by the same token, he doesn’t know you either—not yet. He is looking for you, though, and when he knows you, you will lead him to her.”
“Her?”
“Lyana.”
He dared not say it as he frowned, repeating the beloved, revered name in his head. “Who is she?”
“I do not know. None of us do. The Mother works in mysterious ways, but Lyana will reveal herself in time and you must protect her. Be her eyes, her ears.”
“How do I become Iridor?” he asked, running his short fingers through his whitened hair.
She nodded gently, approvingly, at his acceptance. “Go to the Sea Temple. There you will find answers.”
“Can’t you help me?”
“I am a merely a Messenger, like you. I know only what I’m told. We serve, you and I, that is all. Go now and don’t be seen—may Lyana bless and keep you safe in the perils ahead.” Ellyana touched his face with fingers that felt feathery against his skin, or was it the other way around? “I must go,” she said.
“I’ll show you a way out,” he said, reaching for the door, keen to have her gone, to have some silence to think.
Ellyana smiled. “No one saw me come and no one will see me leave. You keep yourself safe. You are the critical link now. Trust no one in the palace, not even your friend the Zar. For all we know, Maliz could have taken him.”
Pez grunted. “I would know, I think.”
“Not necessarily,” she warned. “Be suspicious of everyone. Now go. Lyana awaits.”
PEZ MADE HIS WAY to the Sea Temple as if in a stupor. He had changed out of his normal comical clothes into a soft sand-colored jamoosh, beneath which he was naked save for his white linen wrap. Because Pez rarely wore the traditional clothes of Percheron, they afforded him the anonymity he needed. He required none of his art of guile as he ran, every fiber of his being tingling.
He arrived breathlessly at the Sea Temple and stood awhile dragging in deep lungfuls of air. As Pez looked up, sucking down the salty air, he noticed for the first time the tiny balcony that ran around the bright blue dome of the building.
How odd, he thought, that I haven’t seen that before. Doves and the occasional seabird called from the balustrade where they were afforded a magnificent view of the harbor and the city. Pez’s attention was diverted to the dark doorway; he knew that when he stepped through it, his life would change. Casting a single glance out to sea, his gaze fell across Beloch and Ezram, reminding him that he had been meaning to visit the giants of the harbor since he had first talked to Boaz about them. Whatever happened today, Pez promised himself, he would make that visit in the next few days.
And then he was climbing up the stairs into the cool darkness where Lyana awaited him. The soft smile at her lips seemed broader today. Was that a faint blush at the cheeks? He knew he was being fanciful but he suddenly felt very aware of being in the presence of the Mother Goddess.
He knelt, bent his head, and reached a short arm out to touch the folds of her robe, and suddenly he heard her voice in his mind.