Emissary (19 page)

The woman nodded back and surreptitiously pointed to an area in the suite that had a number of marble pillars. Ana understood. She beckoned to the woman to lay out her wares in and around the pillars, saying that it was less crowded over there.

The stranger hefted the huge bundle from her back to the floor and Ana noticed her black hands, her fingers shaking as she untied the knot that held all the goods within. Finally they spilled out.

‘Ribbons,’ Ana commented nervously, for want of anything better to say.

The woman looked up, regarded her from behind the veil. ‘No-one else but you wants them,’ said a voice she recognised.

She stared into the dark eyes she could just see behind the veil. ‘Kett?’

The figure nodded. ‘I’ll explain later. Just do as I tell you.’

Ana was too flustered to think straight, but hope surged upon realising that Kett was easily strong enough to lift her; whether the woman would be able to carry her had been worrying her since they had first hatched the plan.

She watched Kett spreading out his hundreds of ribbons and stole a glance around the room. Everyone was occupied. Even the servants were distracted. She wondered why the Elim had so curiously left the room but could only thank Lyana that they had. No-one was paying any attention to her any longer. She whispered this to Kett.

‘Yes, we are fortunate but there’s going to be a distraction as we draw close to the end of the session to help. I suggest you go and look at the other wares—be noticed.’

She did so, strolling around behind the other girls who were fingering the trinkets. She took her time, finally arriving behind Sascha, who was intrigued by a tiny red bean that one of the sellers was showing her. Ana moved closer to watch. The bean was no larger than her own small fingernail and a tiny part of its top had been cut away and replaced by a beautifully shaped lid of ivory that fitted snugly into the gap. She couldn’t imagine anyone carving anything so small. The woman now expertly removed the lid and tipped the contents from the bean into Sascha’s palm. Both girls gasped with pleasure to see a dozen fragile, exquisitely carved elephants that Ana had to squint at to make out.

Sascha was kneeling and now turned to look at Ana. ‘Aren’t they breathtaking?’

‘How does one work on anything that small? They must carve looking through a magnifying glass.’

The woman nodded and Ana could see her grinning through her soft veil. She didn’t have many teeth.

‘Very good price for you,’ she said, holding one of the beans out to Ana.

‘Take one,’ Sascha urged. ‘We both will.’

‘Yes, why don’t you have one of those lovely items,’ Salmeo suddenly said from behind her, the waft of violets sickening as it enveloped her.

Ana froze. How could she have not heard him arriving behind her? Why was he here? Surely it was not time yet! She forced herself not to look towards Kett for fear of giving him away. The Grand Master Eunuch was far too sharp not to notice a fearful glance. Instead she took a steadying breath and turned to face her nemesis.

‘I have nowhere to put it, Grand Master Salmeo, as you can see,’ she said, defying him to stare at her painted nipples which showed somewhat grotesquely through her gauzy gown.

He accepted her challenge and didn’t look the slightest bit coy about enjoying the sight of her body. ‘My dear, fret not. If you prefer not to use the tiny pocket of your gown I shall have it sent to your chamber immediately. Does anything else take your fancy?’ His lisp was worst when in his flirtatious mood.

‘I have not finished looking yet, Grand Master Eunuch. I shall hang on to the bean, I like it.’

‘Carry on, then,’ he replied sweetly, his tongue flicking out between the gap in his teeth
as he smiled fondly at her. ‘Take all you want, Ana. Tonight is yours but be ready, for Olam will come for you shortly.’ He made to leave and then turned back for a parting shot. ‘I hope you’re not too sore from our intimate time together this afternoon,’ and gave her no chance to respond.

Seething, wanting to scream or throw something at him, hurt him, she watched the huge man lightly glide away, and a nagging thought begged her to pay attention to it, but she was distracted by a beckoning sign from Kett and the reminder that the best way to hurt Salmeo was to beat him at his own game of cunning.

She held up her bean at the bundle woman. ‘May I?’

The woman nodded enthusiastically and was then diverted by Sascha and several other girls wanting some of the bright red beans. Ana took her chance and the added precaution of saying to Sascha that she needed to relieve herself.

‘Hurry,’ Sascha replied. ‘There isn’t much longer before they leave, you’ll miss everything,’ and turned back to the trinkets.

Ana returned to Kett.

‘I’m not sure we can risk you in this,’ she warned. Her voice shook. ‘Not now Salmeo—’

‘Forget about me, Miss Ana,’ he cut across her words. ‘I am here now and no-one suspects. If you wish to go, let us do it. If you have second
thoughts, or are scared, I can leave with the other women and no-one will be any the wiser.’

‘I’m not scared for me,’ she admonished in a whisper. ‘I’m worried for you.’

‘Don’t be. This is my path. The path of sorrows.’

She had no idea what he meant by that comment and no time to consider it because a loud squeal went up behind them.

Ana swung around to see that a bundle woman had obviously brought in a basketload of kittens. There were surely three litters involved as a veritable army of tiny cats was scattering in all directions and the girls as well as bundle women and servants were giving chase.

‘Now!’ Kett demanded, pushing her and pointing at the huge square of cloth. ‘Curl up tight!’

Ana had no time to reconsider. She leapt into the middle of Kett’s bundle and within moments found herself encased in the gloom of his musty-smelling wares. She was careful to ensure no elbow or toes pointed anywhere and held herself as small and as round as she could. Ana was very supple and it used to be a game she’d play with her father—she never thought of him as a step-father, even though he had found her as an orphan—that he could roll her around their hut just like a ball. She used that talent now to make herself invisible in the bundle.

She could hear the commotion around her as cats were noisily rounded up. Above her she could sense Kett fiddling with the bundle and securing the knot that would keep her from falling out. It also made him look less conspicuous to be busying himself with preparing to leave, she guessed.

A gong sounded and signalled the end of the bundle women’s visit. Soft sighs of disappointment greeted the gong and then she could hear men’s voices as the Elim began to hurry the bundle women out of the divan suite.

‘Where is Odalisque Ana?’ she heard one ask. It was Olam.

Ana held her breath. This was it, both she and Kett would be impaled or something equally hideous for another of her reckless, selfish acts.

It was Sascha she heard responding. ‘She went to relieve herself. She came and told me just a few moments ago, so she shouldn’t be long.’

‘I shall be back to fetch her. There are some traditional rituals we must adhere to for the First Virgin before we take her to the Zar. Please tell her…’

Ana never heard what she was supposed to be told by Sascha, for Olam’s voice faded into the distance as Kett hurried away and she settled as best she could to the bumpy ride.

She presumed they hadn’t brought the bundle women through the entire palace to the harem. There were many entrances and exits that could
be used as short cuts. The servants used them all the time to come and go, and she prayed now that the Elim would be keen to move the sellers as fast as they could from the harem.

Zafira fled from the advancing Vizier, tried her best to escape up the stairs, but at her age and with her knees, no longer capable of such punishment, she predictably gave way after about six steps and she all but collapsed under her own weight. Maliz was in no hurry.

As he strolled up the stairs to where she lay he made a tut-tutting sound of exasperation that he had had to go through this theatre. There was no longer any need for pretence. He had guessed correctly; there was no doubt that she knew who he was, and now what he needed from her was information.

‘Where did you think you might run to, old woman?’ He grabbed her bony ankle and ruthlessly pulled her backwards down the stairs, her chin, ribs, elbows smashing savagely against the stone. He smiled at her shrieks of pain.

At the bottom he flipped her over, took a fistful of her robe and pulled her up to face him, deriving pleasure in her ragged breathing as she tried to cope with the pain.

Zafira found the courage to open her eyes to look upon evil, and Maliz was surprised to see nothing but defiance in those rheumy eyes now. Gone was the fear, and definitely gone was the
pretence. His prisoner moved her head to stare at the statue of the Goddess behind him and she began murmuring a prayer to Lyana.

He shook her as a hunting dog might shake its quarry once caught but she ignored him, continued with her prayer, finally finishing with a beatific smile.

‘I am done, Maliz. Do what you will.’ Her voice was as cold as the pillar he had her shoved up against.

Maliz snarled and pushed her harder against the pale stone. ‘You name me, priestess. I’m impressed. I thought your lips might burn to say it.’

She snarled back through her agony. ‘Enjoy your small victory, demon. It is pathetic and it is your last.’

He laughed, threw her down to the floor and heard a brittle bone somewhere in her body protest with a snap. He kicked her viciously, that same shard of bone now puncturing a lung. She shrieked and then wept, her mouth open in a silent scream as spittle puddled on the floor beneath her, mottled with blood.

‘Your end is close, priestess. Just listen to your breathing. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself?’

‘How?’

‘Tell me who she is.’

‘And then what?’ she sneered through the pain.

‘I shall snap your neck in an instant and there will be no further suffering.’

‘And if I keep my secret?’

‘You will die in agony.’

‘And you think that scares me?’

‘It should.’

‘She has spoken to me, comforted me that she will prevail this time. You are as good as dead, Maliz, so enjoy your last conquest. My death is meaningless, for my work is already done. You are too late.’

Maliz knew he was being baited but still he couldn’t ignore her derision or the suggestion that Lyana would prove more powerful on this occasion. He kicked her as hard as he could, relishing it as more ribs gave way beneath his foot.

‘How does that feel, priestess?’

Unbelievably to his ears, she laughed, although blood flew from her mouth. ‘Each blow speeds me closer to my Goddess. Lyana is mocking you, Maliz.’

‘Who are your companions?’

Her scorn came out as a gurgle of blood that rattled in her throat and spilled from her nose and mouth. ‘All of Percheron.’

This time Maliz picked her up and threw her against a pillar with a sickening crunch, knowing it was idiotic to kill the only link he had to Iridor and Lyana. But his need for bloodletting and venting his anger had to be answered. She looked
to be dead—was certainly almost gone to her god.

‘Is the dwarf Iridor?’ he demanded close to her bloodied face.

‘No,’ she croaked, her tone filled with derision. ‘The dwarf is an idiot, as you well know. I will never tell you who Iridor is but he is hunting you as we speak, Maliz, and more’s the pity I won’t live long enough to tell him who you are.’

A new thought struck Maliz and as distasteful as it was, the destruction of Lyana overrode everything. ‘Zafira, before you leave this plane, I’m thinking I should send you to the bitch goddess with the seed of the demon, Maliz, running down your thighs. It has an intriguing irony, don’t you think?’

At this her eyes flew open and he knew he had hit on the right threat. How strange, if he’d struck on the idea first he could have saved them both a lot of effort. He reached for her robes and began lifting them. ‘No-one comes here, priestess, no-one will rescue you from this. No-one but me, that is.’

Her robes were already pulled above her knees, revealing her withered thighs. Maliz fancied nothing less than performing a sexual act with this old crone but he knew now it was the one thing that might loosen her tongue.

‘I know you wanted to go to your goddess as the virgin you gave yourself to her as. But I’m afraid I’ve got a rush of blood at having roughed
you up, Zafira. I feel a strong desire to release that pent-up lust…and sadly for both of us, you’re the closest thing.’

He pressed his point by climbing on top of her and her weak attempts to push him off were laughable. He ripped open her robes now to reveal her wrinkled and naked body.

‘Not very attractive, Zafira, but it will have to do,’ he said, reaching to loosen the top of his trousers.

‘No,’ she begged. ‘Do not desecrate me or her temple.’

‘One word will do it, priestess.’

‘I do not know who she is,’ she pleaded now, all defiance gone, replaced by terror. ‘I promise you, I know not who is Lyana’s vessel.’

He believed her. From his experience it was too early for Lyana to have fully come into her new incarnation. ‘One word, Zafira,’ he repeated.

‘What word?’

‘Who is Iridor? Speak his name and I will finish you off quickly.’

‘No rape?’

He shook his head. ‘A single word.’

She nodded, closed her eyes and he watched her breathe a short prayer that begged forgiveness. Then she opened her eyes and said the name he had been waiting to hear.

It did not surprise him. But it did enrage him.

Ana had lost sense of time and geography. She had heard some voices—men’s voices—and presumed it was the guards moving them through the various gates, although she had no idea which.

All she knew was the swaying rhythm of Kett’s hurried movements and just moments ago she’d felt herself tip dangerously forward but her heart leapt at this new position. Surely this meant they were free of the palace and already moving downhill towards the bazaar. But she didn’t dare make any sound…not yet.

Kett had broken into another jog. She must be feeling unbearably heavy and he must see his destination, she thought, for him to risk breaking into a run. Within moments she felt herself dropping and then hitting the ground with force but the fabrics in the bundle around her cushioned her fall.

Ana could hear Kett’s laboured breathing but waited until he opened the bundle before she said anything, for she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t simply dropped her from exhaustion.

‘Miss Ana!’ he hissed. ‘Are you hurt?’ The familiar eyes behind the dark veils were filled with concern.

‘Are we safe?’

He nodded. ‘For a short while. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, Kett. You’ve saved my life.’ She sprang to her feet and hugged him, ripping off his veil so she could look upon his sweet, trusting face. ‘Such a risk you took.’ She shook her head and began kissing his cheeks now.

He was still breathing hard but managed to laugh. ‘Hush, Miss Ana. We’re not that safe!’

‘I’ve got to get out of these clothes, Kett. Have you got anything? Where are we?’

‘I have everything already arranged. Behind those big olive jars are some ordinary street clothes. Make sure you are fully veiled or that hair will give you away, Miss Ana.’

They had shared too much nakedness already for her to fret about her lack of modesty and she was quickly ripping off her silken blue robes. She undid the jewellery about her neck.

‘You take these.’

‘I don’t want—’

She ignored his protests. ‘Don’t sell them here. They’re too recognisable. I can’t have them about me. Give them away if you want, but not here.’ He nodded. She piled the rest of the jewellery into his cupped hands. ‘Use the gold to pay off whomever you have to.’

‘I don’t have to pay anyone.’

She frowned as she pulled the street clothes on. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I couldn’t tell you in the palace. But when I came to the bazaar looking for that friend I told you about, I was stopped by a woman. She was very young and beautiful. She asked me not to use the corrupt bundle woman but to go in disguise myself.’

‘And you did, just like that?’

Kett smiled. ‘She was very persuasive. She named me—knew who I was, and who I represent.’

‘Who you represent?’

‘I am the Raven, Miss Ana. The black bird of sorrows.’

‘What does that mean?’ she said, confused, as she smoothed down her clothes. She reached for the veil but didn’t put it on yet.

He shrugged, began pulling off his skirts. He stood naked, save his loin cloth. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. All I know is that I serve her. Lyana will guide me.’

She looked sharply up at Kett. ‘Lyana?’

‘You, Miss Ana, I serve Lyana through serving you,’ and he smiled.

‘Kett, I—’

‘No. Let’s not talk about it. We both serve Lyana, we both have our roles to play. I don’t know what being the black bird means, although the lady seemed to look sad for me as we spoke. Perhaps that’s why I’m the bird of sorrows.’

She looked baffled by Kett’s words. ‘What was this woman’s name? Did she tell you?’

‘Ellyana. And I could refuse her nothing. We must hide all the clothes,’ he warned and they busied themselves tidying up all clues that might give away that Ana had been here.

She nodded, understanding now. ‘I’m frightened by the risk you took,’ Ana persisted. ‘Promise me you will leave the city tonight, Kett, as I must.’

‘It’s a pity we can’t leave together.’

‘Too dangerous. And if I get caught I don’t want you caught with me.’

‘You won’t get caught, Miss Ana. Where are you going?’

‘Get dressed, Kett. I’m going west. I have no idea how but I shall do it somehow. I am getting as far away from Percheron as I can. What about you? Any ideas?’

He was pulling his trousers on. ‘No plan. Like you, as far away from here as possible. My mother has people in the desert caravans—perhaps I can join them.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Kett! No-one who knows you or your family. Do you hear me? Salmeo will find you and he will kill everyone you love or even know. Go in the opposite direction. Go east. Get on a ship and sail away from here. You have a fortune in jewellery you can sell. Do it wisely and you will be a made man.’ She looked embarrassed by her clumsy choice of words.

He graciously let it pass. ‘And so we shall never see one another again.’

She shook her head with a sad smile. Before she donned her veil and before he could pull his shirt on she reached up to take his face and put her lips against his. She kissed him long and softly. There was no desire in it, only sincere friendship and gratitude.

They pulled apart instantly at a noise behind them. Ana felt as though her insides had turned instantly to water. Standing in the space where a curtain had only moments ago kept their secret, stood Salmeo, surrounded by his Elim, and a horrified-looking Valide.

‘Get them,’ was all Salmeo said. Herezah said nothing but her look of pure hatred towards the friends spoke droves to Ana.

Pez was arguing with Bin.

‘Must see my Zar!’ he said, stamping his foot. ‘He has my butterflies.’

‘Pez,’ Bin said calmly. ‘I’ve explained he does not want to see you. He will call you when he does. He is preparing to meet with Odalisque—’

Bin was unable to say any more because Pez had begun one of his famous screaming sessions.

Bin backed away, unsure of what to do. Pez began to writhe on the ground, the intensity of his shrieks getting more piercing. One of the mutes happened to look outside the door to
summon Bin and frowned when he saw the dwarf on the ground.

‘I wish I were deaf like you,’ Bin murmured. He nodded expectantly. The mute gave the signal that the Zar wished to see him.

‘Thank you, Salazin.’ Then shrugged his shoulders towards Pez suggesting he was lost as to what to do with the dwarf.

Salazin came into the vestibule where the Zar’s secretary worked and walked towards the writhing creature on the floor. He pinned the dwarf’s short arms behind him and lifted him easily, shaking him like a doll to be quiet.

Pez stopped his noise and a look of relief swept across Bin’s face. ‘Thank you again, Salazin,’ and he used the practised sign language to say he didn’t know how he was going to stop Pez.

Salazin pointed to the Zar’s chambers.

Bin shook his head quickly. ‘No.’

The mute put the dwarf down, and Pez remained mercifully silent as the mute signed with his fingers that it would be a good thing for the Zar and his pet to be friends again.

Bin sighed. Gave a look of resignation. He signed:
It’s your throat. I’ll deny I had anything to do with this.

Salazin grinned and he was the only one of the mutes who did not have a gaping wound in his mouth.

He picked Pez up again as if he weighed nothing and strode into the room, Bin running
behind and making merry protest for the Zar’s benefit that Salazin was forbidden to take the dwarf in to see the royal.

Boaz was in his dressing chamber. One other mute was in attendance whilst the Zar’s dresser fussed over the outfit that had been chosen for the Zar to greet his first virgin in.

The Zar glared at Bin and then at Pez who again stayed silent. Bin bowed, as did Salazin.

‘I couldn’t stop him, Majesty. Pez arrived and was making a dreadful noise outside—only Salazin didn’t suffer the blood-curdling shrieks of the dwarf—and although I said you did not wish to see Pez, Salazin believed you might.’

‘It’s important,’ Pez whined, picking his nose. He was also tapping his foot and this was a sign to Boaz that it was more than important. It was urgent. Pez had information that couldn’t wait and was of a dangerous nature. Long ago the two of them had worked out a code using physical signals to communicate simple messages. They’d employed it throughout Boaz’s childhood and, although it hadn’t been used in over a year, Boaz felt the sentimental pull at his heartstrings—no matter how angry he still was at Pez—at that tapping of his foot. Pez obviously needed to talk to him and had had to swallow his pride and risk the almost certain rebuke coming his way by being here.

Boaz maintained his stony silence that ensured everyone other than the two mutes felt the
discomfort. Finally he slapped away the dresser’s hand. ‘I’m ready,’ he said. The man bowed, knowing he had just been dismissed.

Bin continued his lament. ‘Forgive me, Zar Boaz. Salazin just picked up the dwarf and brought him in.’

Boaz signed a query to Salazin. He, Bin and the Vizier were the only people permitted to know the secret signing language and each was proficient in it now, although Boaz was by far the most talented using this challenging form of communication. Sometimes the mutes themselves didn’t know what he was asking when the speed of his hands became too intense for them to follow. All but one, that is.

Salazin answered his Zar’s query.
Because, Majesty, this is your great friend, as I understand it, and I think he will die of heartbreak soon if he can’t be with you.

I said not until I summoned him. Do you defy me, Salazin?

No, High One. I care deeply for your happiness and I know Pez makes you smile. Even a dog could be forgiven an indiscretion by its master, Majesty. This is a special night for you. Let it be a happy one.

Salazin is a clever one, Boaz thought wryly to himself. Tariq picked wisely. The truth was, Boaz really liked having Salazin around. The young man’s presence was always comforting and indeed calming. He never communicated unless asked to and had the knack of disappearing into the room
they were in. There were times when Boaz could forget the warrior was nearby and yet the mute was always alert, always ready to leap to the Zar’s needs. Yes, he liked Salazin immensely and this was why he forgave the mute this interruption.

‘Leave us,’ he finally said. ‘I will speak with Pez.’

Salazin nodded, didn’t have to hear anything to see that the Zar had agreed. Bin bowed, relieved.

The Zar spoke directly to his mutes now through sign language.
I want privacy with Pez. You can wait outside.

All three men left.

‘Thank you,’ Pez said tentatively into the silence after the door closed.

‘I suppose you put on one of your shows out there?’ Boaz said absently, looking at himself in the tall glass.

‘The best,’ Pez agreed.

‘I told you to wait until I wished to see you.’

‘That might have been never, my Zar.’

‘And so what if it was?’ the Zar replied, determined not to let Pez have his clever way.

‘I would not be able to give you the important news I have discovered.’

‘Which is?’ Boaz said, feigning boredom—he even yawned.

‘Lazar is alive,’ Pez said flatly.

Boaz was instantly focused. He swung around to face the dwarf, his expression fluctuating
between disbelief and anger that Pez might dare taunt him in this way.

Pez quickly explained. ‘It has all been a ruse, Highness…but not of Lazar’s doing and not of mine. Lazar nearly died, it’s true. But I’ve found him. I’ve been looking for him on your behalf since I first heard the unbelievable news of his death.’

‘You’ve been looking for him?’ Boaz’s voice was soft, uncertain, almost apologetic.

‘It’s why I kept leaving the palace, my Zar. I never trusted the information we were told, even though delivered by a friend. Lazar might well have perished but he would not have had his body committed to the sea. He was a man of the desert. That’s where he would wish to lie, not on the bottom of the Faranel.’

Boaz looked shaken now. ‘Why didn’t you share your mistrust?’

‘You’ve never really given me a chance. We rarely get time alone any more, Highness. It is not something I could just drop into casual conversation. I needed to be sure.’

‘What about Jumo?’

Pez shrugged. ‘Another victim of the lie.’

‘Where have you found Lazar?’

‘He has been recuperating on Star Island.’

Boaz’s eyes widened in shock. ‘How did you know?’

‘It was a wild guess, Zar Boaz. None of us truly believed he might be there but, yes, perhaps we
should have checked. In the end I did, on your behalf.’

‘Well…’ Boaz spluttered, unsure of what to say. He had a hundred questions, Pez could see.

The dwarf held his gnarled hand up. ‘He has been very sick. Deathly sick. Unable to fend for himself. That’s why it’s taken so long for us to learn the truth. It took weeks for him to find full consciousness again, move without help. A year before he could walk unaided. That’s how the priestess was able to spin her terrible tale. Lazar was unable to defend himself.’

Naturally, he held back that he had helped get Lazar to Star Island in the first instance.

‘But why did Zafira lie?’ Boaz asked, aghast. He had trusted the old priestess; liked her, too.

‘You will have to ask her that, my Zar. I am as injured as you by her lies. She and I were friends.’

Boaz looked utterly confused. ‘But with all her efforts she saved his life, didn’t she?’

‘This is true. Why she would tell you he was dead when she alone nursed him back to health, I cannot say, although I have my suspicions.’

‘Which are?’

‘Well, there is no doubt someone wanted Lazar dead by the presence of the poison. I’m guessing Zafira went down this extraordinarily mysterious path in order to protect him. She let whomever the murderer was believe that he had succeeded, and this gave her time to nurse him back to full health.’

‘But if she’d come to me—’

‘Ah, but there was, to all intents, a murderer on the loose, Majesty—he was in the palace and she wasn’t prepared to risk that he would not try again once he discovered he had not fully succeeded in killing the Spur. I suspect she simply didn’t believe you could protect him.’