W hen Ana woke the following morning, Pez was back at her side. He was wearing a madly colored knitted cap that hugged his squarish head and made him look even more ridiculous than usual.
“Do you like my new garb?” he asked.
She gave a wan smile. “No one will miss you in it.”
They looked sadly at each other for a few moments and Pez reached to take her hand.
She looked earnestly into his strangely yellow eyes. “Is it true? Not just a bad dream?”
“Lazar is dead,” he said as gently as he could, although the words still caught in his throat. “Jumo sailed yesterday to find his family. And Horz will pay with his life today for murder of the Spur.”
“Horz?” she exclaimed, fully awake now. She sat up. “He did not do such a thing.”
Pez gave a small shrug. “No one knows the truth, child. He has admitted it to the Zar in front of witnesses.”
“Then he has been forced into speaking a lie.”
“I’m sure that notion has been explored but there is nothing to be done about it. And it should not be something that affects you anyway.”
“The death of an uncle?” she said, her voice hard and flat. “No wonder Boaz asked me to confirm it.”
“Call him the Zar, Ana. It’s important you keep your head very low now. Are you telling me Horz was kin to you?”
She nodded, glad for the admonishing reminder. “I promise you I will be careful.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, Horz is my father’s brother. We kept it secret. Neither of us said anything about it when we first saw each other in the Choosing Room and we kept it that way. Pez, I’m not sure I want to live. My life is stretching out before me. It looks long and pointless in the harem. And now with Lazar dead because of me…” She couldn’t finish.
He pulled out a spotted silk square. “Dry those eyes, Ana, and bury that hurt, I beg you. You will never have a pointless life and I will protect you as I promised Lazar. Lazar is gone, though, Ana, and he would have been gone for you anyway. You would not have been permitted to see anyone other than the harem members or the Zar. You must accept that. Put Lazar from your mind.”
She looked at him as though he spoke in a different language. “Put him out of my mind? How can you ask that of me? I loved him,” she said fiercely.
If she expected him to be shocked by her admission, she was disappointed. Pez glanced around, making a hushing sound. “So did I, child. I will miss him, as will Boaz, as will Jumo, but we must all get on somehow. You must rise above your pain and forge a new life, for you would never have been permitted to love him except as a distant memory. I hear you’ve already caught the Zar’s eye—that in itself should give you hope.”
“To be his concubine, you mean? At his beck and call, to service his sexual needs?”
Pez gave a tutting sound. “You do view it dimly. Give the young Zar a chance. You may be surprised. He is not obsessed with carnal pleasure. He is actually something of a scholar, and charming company. I was thinking of something far beyond concubine for you, Odalisque Ana. I see no reason why you will not be a wife, if not Absolute Favorite.”
“It doesn’t change anything, Pez,” she said morosely. “I’m still a prisoner.”
“Only of your own mind. The Zar is talking about change. He’s planning a picnic for the girls—and that’s just the beginning.”
She looked at him. “Perhaps I could effect change through him.”
The dwarf grinned. “Good girl. Look ahead, Ana. Pretend Lazar is not dead. Tell yourself you simply can’t see him anymore; it’s what they would have done to you anyway. Time will heal that pain in your heart, I promise. Make your own destiny, child.”
His words roused in her a new sense of hope. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a bird?” she asked suddenly, and regained a small sense of amusement at the look of surprise that claimed his face.
AFTER THE PREVIOUS DAY’S unpleasantness, Boaz was taking his first meal late, slumped in a small alcove off his main study. It was an eating chamber that his father had built a few years prior so that he could take a private meal during a working day. The chamber was fully tiled—every last inch of wall was covered in beautifully glazed squares, each bearing a fruit. It had been quite a daring design for its time, and in fact still was, and it was one of Boaz’s favorite chambers in the whole palace. He loved that it was his, even though he was not currently regarding it with his usual sense of wonder.
The Zar munched absently on the meal that Bin had personally laid out for him, the intuitive servant deciding that the last thing the Zar wanted was a team of fussing attendants putting out food and waiting on his every whim.
Bin had assumed correctly and once again Boaz was grateful for his servant’s ability to anticipate his needs. He was replaying Horz’s confession over in his mind as he chewed on some roasted lamb smeared with a pungent garlic and yogurt sauce. It was delicious, cooked specifically for the Zar much earlier this morning in the private kitchens of the royals, but he tasted none of it, not even the fat ripe figs also picked that morning. Bin let the Zar’s dining staff know that the food had been enjoyed. They worked hard, striving to satisfy the youngster who needed to develop a sophisticated palate so he could entertain and be entertained in style.
The kitchens never stopped. Their fires fanned every hour of every day to prepare hundreds of dishes for the countless people in the palace who needed to be fed. They took up one entire wing, a dozen huge chimneys billowing smoke all day and all night in separate units that were linked by short corridors. The harem was normally serviced by three of these units, one devoted exclusively to the Valide Zara and the wives. Another eight were given over to dignitaries, soldiers, the Elim, and all the other people attached to the palace. The final chimney stood alone in a closed unit. This was for the Zar’s food. He had his own vegetable and herb gardens. He even had his own orchard. No food ever crossed from any of the other units into this one. The kitchen staff was handpicked and trained rigorously, not just in cooking, but in discretion as well as security. Bin was aware that a good relationship with the kitchen team meant they would always go to extraordinary lengths to please their Zar. It also meant they would be vigilant and never permit strangers any access to his food. This last point was of paramount importance. Bin mentioned it now to the young Zar as he entered to refill Boaz’s glass. “My Zar, the Vizier has made a suggestion that I think has merit. Perhaps you’ll permit me to mention it?”
“Oh yes? What does he suggest for me?”
“Well, my Zar, Vizier Tariq is mindful that without the Spur, our security is compromised. Until we find a worthy replacement—”
“There is no worthy replacement,” Boaz cut in. “There is no replacement at all in fact. I am not ready to accept his death and so I have no intention of putting another man into that position.”
“Of course, Great One. But in the absence of anyone to fill that position, Vizier Tariq wants to place a permanent guard around your kitchen. He thinks it’s a fundamental aspect of palace security that everything connected with the Zar be checked, double-checked, and triple-checked and nowhere is more vulnerable than where your food is prepared.”
Boaz was surprised. Tariq showing concern? Tariq had treated him with not-very-well-hidden disdain when he was nothing but a prince and even at his father’s death the man had been condescending. “When did he suggest this?”
“Last night, my Zar.”
“Who does he think should do this?”
“He believes there is no one more trustworthy than the Elim. He thinks the Valide should select the team. She knows all of the more senior members of the Elim.”
“He says this even though one of the Elim has proven to be a traitor?”
Bin said nothing, but when Boaz glanced at the man’s face, he could see that Bin—and presumably the Vizier—believed the story of Horz’s treachery almost as much as they had believed Pez when he had once told them all he could fly.
“I should like to see the Vizier.”
“I shall summon him immediately.”
AFTER VIZIER TARIQ was announced, he entered with none of the usual flouncing bows Boaz expected. “My Zar,” he said softly, touching his hand to his lips and heart as he bowed graciously.
Boaz immediately noticed how somberly the Vizier was dressed—this in itself was unusual. But even more surprising was the absence of the tinkling bells and sparkling jewels in his beard. In fact, the Vizier’s beard was no longer forked. It ended in a neat plait. The normally ostentatious affectations were vanishing before Boaz’s eyes, and he couldn’t help himself from asking, “Vizier Tariq, are you well?”
“I am, thank you, High One,” the man said, straightening.
“No, I mean, you don’t seem quite…er, yourself.”
“How odd, my Zar. Your mother suggested the same thing only yesterday.”
“Nothing’s wrong?” Boaz inquired.
“Not at all. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever felt better.”
“Good,” the Zar replied, still feeling unsettled by the Vizier but thinking it would be imprudent to press further at this point. “Please, join me,” he added, gesturing toward a long cushion on the floor opposite him.
“This is a wonderful chamber,” Tariq said. “Your father had such fine taste in art forms.”
“Yes. I wish he hadn’t worked so hard to hide it.”
“I’m not sure he did. Just look at this room,” Tariq said, sweeping a hand gently around him. “It is so advanced for the age. And consider all the additions he made to the palace—each has superbly enhanced its beauty by paving a way for its future rather than looking to past glory. Your father’s wives, especially your mother, were chosen with an eye not just for their exquisite looks, but for their intelligence. Whatever his own desires were in terms of whom he spent his time with, he was again looking to the future. He wanted heirs with nimble, shrewd minds.”
Boaz had never heard the Vizier make such an observation in all the years he had known him. Tariq usually contented himself with agreeing with the powers that be.
But Tariq was not finished. “And his faith in his own judgment has been borne out in you, my Zar, if I may say so. From what I know of you, you maintain a very good blend of the finer qualities of both of your parents.”
“Oh yes?” Boaz replied, amused now. “What have I won from my mother?” He expected the Vizier to lavish him with praise.
“Her looks obviously,” the man replied matter-of-factly. “But from what I can see, since you’ve assumed your new role, you also have her intuitiveness. And that is a quality to be admired.”
Concise, direct, brief. Boaz was amazed. “And from my father?”
“Well, your father was shrewd indeed. I’ll admit his interest in life around him lapsed toward the end of his reign but he will be remembered for his incisive decisions. Joreb—may Zarab keep him—was never one to shirk making a stand. Right or wrong, he made decisions swiftly. You showed that same courage yesterday, my Zar, if you don’t mind my mentioning it. That was a very difficult situation—and not one any of us would like to have faced. No one who was present could be anything but impressed by your composure and ability to render that toughest of all judgments. Sending a man to his death is easy if you have little conscience.”
Boaz swallowed hard. The Vizier had clearly, yet carefully, couched the suggestion that Horz was lying and taking the blame for a dark deed he had played no part in.
“It weighs heavily on my mind nonetheless,” Boaz responded, equally careful not to commit himself one way or the other.
He saw recognition of this flash briefly in the Vizier’s eyes before it was shrouded, and was certain the man was applauding him. “It was the right decision to make, my Zar, if that helps.”
“I’ve been struggling with it ever since,” Boaz admitted.
“As you should. It would only be curious if you didn’t. Of course, the whole business of the Spur’s death is a curiosity, wouldn’t you say, my Zar?”
Tariq cut deep into the pain Boaz had been trying to hide. He felt powerless to hide his own feelings when the Vizier was being so honest. “I will not rest easy until I have the truth,” Boaz confirmed.
“So you doubt Horz?”
“How can I? The man has confessed.”
The Vizier said nothing but his searching look spoke volumes.
“I suspect there is far more to the truth than we have learned,” Boaz answered more fully. “That is what I will search for in my own way and over time. For now the people must be satisfied that justice has been seen to be done.”
“Bravo, my Zar. You are thinking like a pragmatist.”
For the first time ever, Boaz felt proud to be complimented by the Vizier. “May I offer you some zerra, Tariq?”
Inwardly, Maliz smiled. “I would be delighted, High One. Thank you.”
Bin, who had been quietly attending from the shadows of the room, emerged from his dark corner to pour out a glass for the Vizier.
“Thank you, my Zar.” Tariq sipped and his expression of pleasure said enough about the quality of the zerra. “I have some changes I’d like to effect. If you would permit, I would like your kitchen to be permanently observed by the Elim.”
“Bin mentioned that. Is it really necessary?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think it was important, my Zar,” Maliz said, belatedly realizing what a contradiction that was for anyone who had known the old Vizier. This was confirmed by the grin that the Zar could not force back. “Do I amuse?” the demon asked, knowing full well that he did.
“Forgive me, Tariq. Whatever this change is that has come over you, I just want you to know that I appreciate our conversation. Are you aware of how different you sound?”
“My Zar, may I be candid?”
“Please.”
Boaz watched as Tariq sipped again. “I respected your father enormously but it served my purposes to behave the way I did in the past. I can’t put it any more plainly. Your father came to his throne a grown man, quite set in his ways and with a lot of experience under his belt. I was newly appointed and I had to quietly assume my role, ingratiate myself with the right people to win their trust. That has taken years.”
Boaz couldn’t help himself. “Tariq, my father didn’t respect you very much. I know he didn’t like you,” he said, more bluntly than he had intended.
“Do you think I didn’t know that?”
“I must say I have to wonder when I consider some of your…affectations,” Boaz admitted. He was confused by Tariq. He’d spent a lifetime ignoring the man, disliking him even, but now found himself impressed by his calm counsel and insightful comments.
“That’s all they were, High One. Affectations. It helped me to disappear…don’t you see?”
“No, frankly, I don’t.”
“Sometimes, Zar Boaz, people will portray themselves a specific way with the deliberate intent to shield others from their true selves.”
“Why?”
“Defense. Invisibility. The peacock you saw was all that you saw. You never knew that behind that facade worked a shrewd mind.”
“A modest one too,” Boaz countered.
Tariq shrugged and sipped again, a smile at his lips. “I’m merely explaining it for you.”
“So it’s all been an act?”
“That’s perhaps exaggerating it. I have always done my work diligently—I’m sure your father never complained about that.”
“No, not at all. In fact, I heard him say on countless occasions that as much as he disliked your presence, he couldn’t fault your efforts.”
“And that’s the reason I climbed to the position I have,” Tariq replied.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to be yourself and earn respect along the way?”
“Perhaps, but then I wouldn’t have learned as much as I have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Zar Boaz, my presence at the palace is only part of what I do. My real job is to listen in on the streets, to hear what your people are grumbling about, their needs. I have a network of contacts to run and it has suited me to appear flamboyant and shallow because people never took me seriously. They talked around me, over me. They thought my appointment as Vizier a jest but figured I was someone who could be easily compromised.”
“And can you be?”
At this, Tariq smiled. “Zar Boaz, I am revealing the true Tariq to you so that we start out truthfully in your reign. You are young—I don’t mean that as insult—and you need sound counsel. Your father never needed someone like me in quite the same way you do. I am offering myself up honestly to you. I hope that we can work closely and that you’ll trust my judgment, hear my advice, include me in your decision making.”
Boaz took several moments to consider the Vizier’s request. He wanted to be sure he chose his words carefully. “Vizier Tariq, until yesterday I intended to begin distancing myself entirely from you. I disliked you even more than my father did, for I didn’t even respect the role you played.” He watched the man nod in humble acceptance of his harsh words. “But you have surprised me. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I feel as though I am sitting here tonight with an entirely different man.”
“Does that mean we have a future together, Zar Boaz?”
“That’s precisely what it means. It will not happen overnight, of course, Vizier. You must earn my trust and respect. But what I want most is for you to understand that it is me who sits the throne of Percheron and not my mother.”
“You have made yourself perfectly clear, Zar Boaz. Perhaps I might begin our new relationship by organizing for the guard around your kitchen?” At Boaz’s nod, the Vizier smiled and continued: “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Keep me informed.”
“My Zar?”
“I want to know everything you do. All that you learn from the streets I want shared with me. You are the one promoting this partnership, so prove it. Show me that I can trust you.”
“And what’s in this for me, Zar Boaz?”
Boaz’s eyes flashed darkly. “That’s the old Vizier talking!”
“No, Highness. The old Vizier would not have had the nerve. You’ve proven yourself to be pragmatic, so continue in that vein. Nothing in life is free, my Zar.”
“What do you want? Riches?”
Tariq laughed. “No. I want the title of Grand Vizier.”
Boaz nodded slowly, suddenly understanding. “Equal status to Salmeo.”
“Yes, my Zar. Too long I have been treated as his inferior. I want the same privileges and freedoms he enjoys.”
Boaz nodded. If Tariq continued to impress, he would not find it difficult to agree to such a request. “We have a bargain, then, Vizier. Earn my trust and my respect and you will earn yourself a promotion.”
“Thank you, Zar Boaz.” The Vizier raised his zerra. “To your reign, High One. I will work diligently and unrelentingly toward achieving your goals.”
“You do not know them yet,” Boaz replied mischievously.
“Oh, but I intend to learn them, my Zar. I shall begin by learning more about the last hours of the Spur. Is that a good beginning?”
Boaz raised his cup to the newly reinvented Vizier and the curious alliance they had made tonight. “To new beginnings,” he replied, draining his wine.