Emissary (18 page)

‘What use is that anyway?’

‘Anything’s better than wasting away on Star Island. How long did you think you could keep that man trapped there?’

She pursed her lips, knowing he was right. ‘Not much longer. It’s why I wasn’t here when you came.’

He understood. ‘Ellyana?’

‘She needs to know his condition. Perhaps she suspected he was ready to make his move.’

‘And you went to meet her.’

‘No,’ she said, sitting down heavily. ‘I go to a particular spot and tie a message to a homing pigeon. I don’t know where it goes but this morning’s message was that I didn’t think Lazar could be contained for much longer.’

Pez grimaced at the secrecy, the whole manipulative way of Ellyana. ‘He’ll be back tonight.’

‘What is he going to do?’

‘Present himself to Boaz, as far as I know. Lazar has nothing to hide. But blame will be accorded to you, when they realise you lied. That’s why I want you to go.’

She began to shake her head but Pez persisted. ‘You are more use to Lyana alive, Zafira. The Zar will not spare you once he knows it was all a ruse—an out-and-out lie to his face as well—and that’s how Lazar will have to tell it. Let’s be truthful here, he had no hand in the decisions and terrible manipulations anyway.’

Zafira considered what Pez was saying.

He pressed further. ‘Live, help us.’

She nodded. ‘Where shall I go?’

‘Anywhere but here. Go to Z’alotny—to the burial ground of the priestesses.’

She looked at him ruefully. ‘Appropriate—at least when the Zar executes me I’ll be in the right spot.’

He ignored her comment. ‘It’s safe, private, no-one goes there. Give me two days and then I shall either come to you or get word to you and we’ll work out what to do from there. But you have to leave here now.’

She nodded. ‘I shall go.’

‘Make haste, Zafira. I don’t trust anyone at the palace.’

‘I shall be gone within an hour or so.’

He reached around her tiny figure and hugged her. ‘Go sooner if you can.’

Maliz twirled the stem of a goblet of pale wine between Tariq’s thumb and forefinger as he considered what he’d just heard. ‘You’re quite sure?’

The man nodded.

‘And he didn’t stay very long, you say.’

Now the man shook his head.

‘Did he bow in the temple to Lyana?’

‘No, Grand Vizier. I watched carefully. He did no such thing. As I told you, he arrived doing acrobatics through the temple. There was no respect for the place he was in. He spoke briefly to the priestess—well, screamed to tell the truth—about wanting some fruit and she seemed familiar and rather kindly towards him. He dragged her to the back of the temple and I could hear him still yelling about fruit and listing all of their names. Finally, she took him upstairs to give him some. I could hear him demanding a pomegranate. That’s when I left for fear of being seen. I waited and he came out not long afterwards clutching an orange. He kept smelling the orange—’

‘Yes, yes, I understand. He didn’t touch the sculpture of Lyana?’ the Grand Vizier persisted, determined to connect Pez with the Goddess.

‘He paid her no heed whatsoever,’ the man confirmed, bowing for good measure. ‘He was as annoying and silly as he usually is.’

‘Keep shadowing the dwarf whenever he leaves the palace. I will pay you well.’ He tossed a small pouch that landed at the man’s feet with a solid thump.

‘Thank you, Grand Vizier.’

‘I pay for your secrecy too, Elaz. Don’t speak out of turn to anyone or I shall close your lips forever.’

The man nodded, eager to be dismissed. Maliz waved him away and replayed in his thoughts what he had discovered. There was no proof, then. The dwarf behaved true to form. Perhaps the priestess was simply a friend or someone who took pity on the idiot. But why go to the temple? The coincidence of it being the sacred place of Lyana was irresistible to Maliz. He would have to learn more.

He would begin with the priestess.

Ana had never looked more stunning than she did at this moment. Even she was surprised by the solemn yet dazzling person staring back at her from the glass.

‘He will adore you,’ Elza whispered, praying to Zarab that the girl would put behind her the episode with the Grand Master Eunuch that had left her trembling, bleeding and puffy-eyed from weeping. She remembered how, when she had tried to comfort the young woman, Ana had exclaimed that she was not crying from grief, but from anger.

‘I don’t care,’ Ana replied stiffly, her rouged lips making her scowl seem alluring rather than how she intended it.

‘Miss Ana, please. Let this go well for you. To be First Chosen is one of the highest prizes. Look how the harem honours you with its finest jewels. I hear the Valide herself chose and bought them for you. The Grand Master Eunuch put them around your neck himself to honour you.’

Ana’s voice was waspish when it came. ‘For your sake alone, Elza, I am not ripping these jewels from my neck and wrists and ankles.’

The slave gasped. ‘They are worth more than ten of me, child.’

‘And I hate them. I don’t want them.’

‘What do you want, Miss Ana?’

‘Freedom. Leave me, Elza.’

‘No, I cannot. I have promised to escort you into the divan suite. Grand Master Salmeo says the other girls must see you in all your finery before you are taken to the Zar’s chambers.’

‘So he can make the other girls jealous, so they will hate me?’

Elza shrugged, embarrassed. ‘I must do as I’m told, Miss Ana.’

‘Let us go now then, for I cannot stand the sight of myself a moment longer. I am like the jewels—pretty but dead.’

Elza shook her head, worried whether they would ever tame this girl.

The Grand Vizier arrived at the Sea Temple as the sun was dipping low behind the statue of Ezram. The giant looked to be framed by a halo of fire whilst the sky had blistered to a burning orange as if in final salutation to the day. Its farewell cast a bright glow onto the waters to make the bay appear like a cauldron of molten gold, but the Vizier did not appreciate Percheron’s theatre of natural beauty. Maliz was entirely distracted, grimacing at being so close to the worshipping place of Lyana, and his revulsion only intensified when he stepped into its cool
shadows and saw the sculpture of the woman he reviled.

Lyana watched him too, her expression as hard and as unyielding as the stone she was formed from. Maliz felt his bile rise at being in her presence and as he approached Lyana he could no longer control his revulsion and he spat at her. His spittle slid down her chin to land on her left breast and whether it was a trick of the eye or simply the way the slit of dying golden sunlight made a last effort to light her, the liquid seemed to stain the pale stone from which she was crafted.

Maliz sneered. ‘I will destroy you again and again, Lyana,’ he said softly, cruelly. ‘The faithful will never worship a woman.’

He was disturbed by the arrival of a tiny person, an old priestess who had descended the stairs with a small sack. At first she covered her surprise at his presence with a quick smile—the sort she kept for someone come to pay quiet homage, he guessed, but Maliz noticed how the smile died fast on her wrinkled face. She tried to disguise the alarm but he saw it all clearly. It was his first clue.

‘Grand Vizier Tariq?’ she asked, over-brightly he thought. ‘What a surprise. How can I help you?’

‘Perhaps you can,’ he replied smoothly. ‘I am looking for Pez.’

She frowned. ‘The Zar’s buffoon?’

‘The only Pez I know of in Percheron,’ Maliz said dryly.

The priestess shook her head. ‘Pez is not here, Grand Vizier. I’m sorry your journey has been wasted.’

‘He has been, though, hasn’t he, priestess?’

To her credit, Zafira didn’t so much as blink at his trap. ‘Earlier today, yes. Silly fellow was looking for fruit, of all things. He can be quite contrary—as I’m sure you must know—but I feel sorry for him most of the time,’ she said and he noticed how she wrung the corners of the sack ends in her hands. Another clue. The priestess was nervous.

‘I’m sorry, you know me but I don’t have your name?’

‘I am Zafira.’ She put the sack down and pushed her hands into the pockets of her aquamarine robes to appear relaxed. He thought it was more likely an attempt to steady them.

He pressed on, keeping his voice friendly. ‘So Pez visits regularly, Zafira?’

‘I wouldn’t say regularly,’ she replied, trying to find a breezy smile. ‘He finds kindness here, Grand Vizier. He calls whenever his odd mood swings bring him and I have no warning. If I can help him to calm I usually do. Sometimes all the troubled soul needs is some time.’

‘Does he communicate with you?’

Now she gave an expression of disdain. ‘As well as he communicates with anyone. He speaks
gibberish most of the time.’ Now she looked quizzical. ‘I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, Grand Vizier, as you are around him in the palace and see him so much more than I.’

‘I have very little to do with him.’

‘I find myself in the same position. Pez is welcome here as anyone is welcome. No-one is turned away. But his trips are rare and, although he did stop by today in a fractious mood that was apparently solved by an orange, he’s not here at present. Now if you’ve finished with your questions, I’m actually in a hurry,’ she said, bending to pick up the sack again.

‘Are you going somewhere, Zafira?’ As Maliz stepped forward, the priestess shrank back. It was his best clue yet. She had no reason to be fearful of him and yet it was obvious she was entirely disturbed by his presence. ‘Do not be scared of me.’

‘I’m not,’ she said too quickly.

‘Your voice shakes, is something wrong?’ He took another step towards her.

She retreated again and now he was sure. ‘No. You just surprised me and I have to be somewhere.’

‘Where?’

Zafira mustered some indignance. ‘Somewhere private, sir.’

‘Away from here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why the hurry?’

‘Because I’m late.’

‘Can I escort you there?’

‘No, Grand Vizier. I’m capable of finding my own way. Frankly, I’m surprised that you can be bothered with one of Lyana’s servants.’

It was a mistake. It gave Maliz the opening he needed.

‘What makes you think I would make such a distinction?’ He could see the fear taking full hold of her now, see it taking flight in her startled eyes that displayed her understanding that she had made an error in even mentioning Lyana. As far as Maliz was concerned, there was only one reason that anyone would be terrified of the Grand Vizier. They would have knowledge that inside the body walked a demon.

He laughed aloud, deep and menacing, as it all clicked into place in his mind. He had found one of Lyana’s disciples. It was a start.

The battle had begun.

Ana entered the divan suite to the sounds of rapturous welcome as the other odalisques rushed to touch her gown, her precious jewels, her polished skin and shining golden hair. She was dressed in a shimmering pale blue outfit that was little more than gauze, just as Herezah had envisaged. Edged with silver and dusted with diamond glitter, Ana’s every movement, however slight, made her entire body sparkle. Her hair was
worked up in a delicately wrought silver clasp, studded with diamonds, and to add insult to injury, after Salmeo had finished with her, he had ordered her ears have further piercings and these were now hung with diamond drops and sapphires. Her nose had also been pierced and the curiously slight injuries—for all that pain—were now covered by diamond studs. Ana took grim amusement in believing that had this been the middle of the day and not early evening no-one would have been able to look at her for fear of being blinded by her dazzling presence.

After a few moments that she considered fair to allow them to express their wonder, the sounds of appreciation continued to escalate rather than lessen and so Ana begged the girls to stop. She did not enjoy the celebrity and her mind was filled with the notion of escape again. Ana knew the risk was huge; knew it was going against the promises she had made to Lazar, to Pez, even to the Valide. To fail in her bid this time would mean death but the prize for success would be freedom and after her meeting with Salmeo earlier, death did not frighten her. If she made it out she had already decided that she wouldn’t go home. There would be no point. The palace would hunt her down and Salmeo would likely have her family killed out of spite. No, she had no home any more. Instead, she would head west—perhaps to Merlinea where others told her Lazar came from. The west still
respected Lyana and perhaps she could find a convent or temple that might take her in for a while. Her thoughts extended to even living the life of a priestess if they would have her.

She came out of her musings at the insistent touch of a youngster called Prem.

‘The bundle women are coming tonight as a special treat for us,’ she gushed.

‘I know, I’m looking forward to it too,’ Ana said, trying not to show just how earnestly she meant it. ‘Did you all have a wonderful day on the water?’

That set off a chorus of conversation that Ana was pleased to lose herself in whilst she nervously awaited the arrival of the bundle women. One of the Elim sidled up. A man called Olam, whom she liked.

‘Miss Ana.’

‘Yes?’

‘We are to escort you to the Zar’s chambers at nightfall.’

‘I will see the bundle women with the rest of the girls, won’t I?’ she asked anxiously. ‘It’s just I missed out on the river barging with them.’

He nodded reassuringly. ‘Yes, Miss Ana. I will collect you as soon as the bundle women have departed. They are due any minute. You will miss your evening meal but the Grand Master Eunuch felt it was best you go to the Zar empty rather than full’

She smiled wanly and nodded, using her folded hands in her lap as the only modesty she could
provide for herself, although Olam’s eyes were fixed upon her own.

‘Can I organise something light for you before the bundle women come, Miss Ana?’

‘I’m not hungry, Olam.’

‘I understand,’ he said, backing away after a short bow.

‘Not hungry? I’m starving,’ Prem groaned.

Sascha, sitting nearby, laughed. ‘You’ve been eating all day, Prem. You’d better watch yourself or you’ll get fat and the Zar will never want to lie with you like he does with Ana and then you’ll never have a chance at being a wife, or to give him an heir.’

Prem looked mortified at the threat and Ana felt equally mortified but for other reasons. The girls were taking this all so lightly. Was she the only one who feared the Zar’s touch? No, she knew that wasn’t true. They would all be as frightened as her on their first time with a man but this went deeper; Ana did not want to be bedded by Boaz, whereas they all apparently did. She had listened to them talk about his handsome looks and what it would be like to be alone with him. They were all accepting of their roles as odalisques and already planning ahead in their minds to their own special first night with the Zar. As Sascha’s comment attested, some of the older ones were already thinking about children—about trying to give him an heir quickly.

But she was revolted by the thought. And it was not because she was too young, too frigid, too uninterested by sexual liaison. None of that was relevant. There was only one obstacle, and its name was Lazar. Lazar was the only man whom she wanted to touch her—the only man she wanted to touch tenderly in return. Although if it were true that Lazar was alive she felt sure any chance she had to touch him might be squandered in the form of a punch. She had put that simmering thought of him lying about his death to the back of her mind for the past few hours but now it had erupted to wound her again. And Pez was in on the lie, and that meant so was Zafira…and Jumo? Had Jumo rushed off to Merlinea to find Lazar’s kin, as Boaz had explained, or was that all part of the elaborate ruse? She blinked back a tear of self-pity and forced a bright smile onto her face.

‘Well, at least you’ll have the benefit of my experience with the Zar,’ she said amiably to the now-small crowd that had gathered around the conversation. ‘I can tell you what he likes.’

They all laughed and then someone noted the Elim arriving—several of them—which meant the bundle women were here. Squeals of childish joy exploded and the older girls, more demure, stood, gathering close to Ana, their unheralded leader, to await at a polite distance. All the girls had veiled without having to be asked. It was not necessary, of course, but the Valide had insisted
they get into the habit so that it became an instant reaction to any stranger.

Right enough, behind the first four Elim came a motley assortment of brightly dressed women, all veiled, and carrying the enormous bundles they were famous for.

‘The Grand Master Eunuch said we can have whatever we want. The palace will settle the bill,’ Sascha whispered.

‘Very generous,’ Ana replied tartly and then sighed at how easily Salmeo manipulated the harem. But her only concern now was wondering which of the women might be the one she was looking for. She bit her lip in consternation at the worrying thought that she and Kett had not even planned how the woman would recognise her. Ana had to presume that Kett would have given such a detailed description that the woman would pick her out in an instant, and for the first time that evening Ana was grateful for the sheerness of the garments she was draped in. Her face, along with the rest of her body, was clearly visible.

She watched the girls peeling off from the main group to look at the various trinkets, fabrics, scarves, even some wooden toys for the youngest in the harem. The Elim had departed but would wait just outside the divan suite, leaving the various eunuch servants to watch from a discreet distance.

Ana saw a woman dressed in darker robes
approach, her face fully veiled save a tiny slit for her eyes. She held her breath. This was it. She had no idea how they were going to do this or even if it could be pulled off but she cast a prayer to Lyana to guide her in this daring move and nodded carefully at the woman.