Emissary (28 page)

Against her wishes and without an option, Ana was hurriedly whisked from the Throne Room to be prepared for her marriage in the finest garments that could be assembled in such a short time. The Galinseans were shown to some accommodation where they could rest and freshen themselves.

Boaz asked Lazar to join himself and the Vizier in a private courtyard. Pez was nowhere to be seen but it was probably best he made himself scarce under these trying circumstances, the Zar thought.

Lazar had barely moments to spend with Jumo, who still wore an expression of incredulity as they walked along the palace corridors towards the Moon Courtyard.

‘I can’t believe it,’ the faithful servant said again. ‘And you look so different.’

Lazar shook his head. ‘None of this need have happened if only I’d been asked.’

‘But they said you were unconscious, incapable of speech and then you died. What else could we believe? Even Pez was duped initially, I gather.’

‘He was. I owe you some explanation of what really happened, my friend, but right now we must make arrangements.’

‘Yes, I understand the urgency, but I feel so responsible. This war threat is because of my hasty actions.’

‘Don’t, Jumo! You are the last person to be blamed for this mess. Ellyana is the villain. She and Zafira deliberately kept all information of my survival from you…and worse, perpetrated the lie of my death. I’m so sorry.’

Jumo grimaced. ‘I knew I was being manipulated at the time but I couldn’t work it out. I still can’t. Why? What is there to gain through Ellyana’s actions except chaos?’

‘I think that’s precisely what she was after. Or more accurately, unpredictability. Be patient. There are some things to tell you but we must prepare to leave for Galinsea. The Zar awaits me.’

‘You’re going?’

‘I’m not letting Ana go alone.’

‘But she’s not, she’s—’

‘She might as well be. No, I will be escorting her as far as the capital, if Boaz will permit it, and I can’t see him refusing me. After she is delivered I can melt into the city crowds but at least I’ll be there.’

Jumo nodded. ‘All right. What do you want me to do?’

‘Horses through the foothills, camels to take over from the edge of the Waste. Get fat old Belzo
off his backside and doing what he does best: securing the Shield’s supplies. We need to be self-sufficient—you know what a long journey it is.’

‘How many are going?’

‘Marius and Lorto can return on their ship and hopefully allay any eager Galinsean warships. Our party will be three, and no more if I can help it.’

Jumo pulled an expression of uncertainty and Lazar knew what was going through his mind. He wanted to take some more men but he held his tongue on this, deferring to the Spur’s knowledge of what may or may not incite the Galinseans further. He moved to the next most obvious question. ‘Why the desert, Lazar? Surely ship is the best way?’

‘It’s too slow. We have to stop any invasion before it leaves Galinsea. The desert is our only hope. Marius and Lorto will take their ship and hasten to the main flotilla. There they will prevent the Galinsean warships from moving any closer to Percheron and instead get word to my father via birds. By then, hopefully, we’ll already be there and royal decree will go back to the warships ordering them to return to Romea.’

‘But you can’t even enter the city of Romea apparently.’

Lazar grimaced. ‘I know. I’m hoping to have a plan before we get there.’

Jumo could do nothing but smile. ‘Typical. Leave it with me.’

Lazar gripped the man’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, Jumo…especially for your patience.’

The little man shrugged. ‘You’re alive, that’s all that matters to me. I must go, I have a lot to organise in a short time.’

‘Tell Belzo quality camels or I’ll…’

‘I know, I know…you’ll kick his fat backside.’

The two men grinned. Even though the trip already smelled so dangerous, it felt good to be preparing to travel again together.

‘Ah, Lazar,’ Boaz said, welcoming the Spur into his private courtyard. ‘Come, come.’

‘Apologies, Highness, arrangements needed to be made.’

‘My mind’s a whirl—yours must be too.’

The Grand Vizier handed Lazar a cup of strong wine.

‘I think we all need this,’ Boaz reflected. ‘Heartfelt thanks to you for coming up with an acceptable solution all round.’ He raised his glass to his Spur.

‘It’s radical, Highness,’ the Vizier said.

‘Not really, Tariq. Quite normal, I would have thought, for me to choose a wife from my harem.’

‘I’m just imagining how it will reflect, Highness, that you’ve chosen a condemned prisoner who was actually in the process of being executed.’

Lazar bristled. ‘The Galinseans know none of that, Vizier, and we can keep it that way. As far as they’re concerned, this is a woman who speaks
their language with grace and fluency and who is married to the Zar…that’s a Queen in their eyes.’ He looked at the Zar. ‘You will make her Absolute Favourite, of course. Her status must be the highest there is.’

‘Of course,’ Boaz said, his heart pumping with anticipation and nervousness. It was obvious to his companions that he was thinking upon how life could swing from one extreme to another in a blink. This morning he was counting the bells, the very minutes to Ana’s death…now he was counting more minutes until he took her as his wife. ‘I can only imagine the fury in the harem at how events have turned out,’ he said, smiling ruefully and then added, ‘I only wish I could have saved Kett in the chaos as well.’

The Vizier looked thoughtful. ‘You misinterpret me, Spur. I think Ana—the little I’ve seen of her—is magnificent. We took some time together before she came to the Throne Room…’ He watched Lazar’s eyes narrow, saw the body tense. So, the Spur felt the same way towards Ana as she did him. Very interesting. Another relationship to watch. He smiled. ‘The Zar asked me to explain to her what was happening. I found her to be exquisite yet feisty, a good listener and yet sharp, quick to assimilate information. She is precisely what is required for this role. I was actually referring not to the Galinseans but to those who stood to benefit by her death…those a little closer to home.’

‘You mean my mother and Salmeo,’ Boaz said it for him.

Maliz didn’t flinch. He had nothing to lose but oddly enough he rather cared for Boaz and now Ana. Their lives were infinitesimal on the scale of his own, both of them merely vehicles for a greater agenda. But still they had both managed to get under his skin somewhat, make him care, just a fraction, for their earthly pursuits. And so he preferred to be frank with Boaz, guide him properly, knew the Zar could handle constructive criticism if offered genuinely and at the right time. The Zar was no fool when it came to either the Valide or the eunuch. ‘Yes, of course I do. I’m not suggesting the Valide created the situation but we’d all be lying to ourselves if we didn’t see how she stands to gain by Odalisque Ana being out of the way.’

Defence came from an unexpected quarter. ‘Whether it’s Ana or some other wife, it has to happen. The Valide understands the fragility of her own existence. She always has,’ Lazar replied.

‘That’s generous of you, Lazar,’ Boaz said. ‘My mother’s mind works in fantastic ways sometimes. To be honest, there are moments when I could despise her but there are many more when I can only feel the highest admiration. She has survived and prevailed in an atmosphere of fear and suspicion. I’ve lived in the harem, neither of you have and neither of you can begin to imagine
what my mother has had to do to raise herself to the position she now has.’

Both men nodded thoughtfully. He continued. ‘I agree, Vizier, my mother can protect her position as long as I don’t take a wife. Ana was always a threat—as are all the women, as Lazar rightly argues—but then the ironic part is that the Valide herself chose Ana as the perfect wife. She always intended that Ana be Favourite.’

‘Just not so soon,’ Lazar added.

‘That’s right, not so soon. My mother’s waited a long time to achieve her position and I for one can’t blame her for wanting to hang on to it for a little longer.’

‘She doesn’t lose her status, Majesty,’ Lazar began.

‘No, but the beginning of the slide is there, isn’t it? A wife is taken, an heir is born…it’s only a matter of time.’

‘But, my Zar, you are still so young, you have many years before you hand over to a son,’ the Vizier commented.

‘On the face of it, yes,’ Boaz said and he frowned, ‘but things happen in life, Vizier, that none of us can foresee. If I’d said to you a couple of days ago that we would be trying to avert a genuine threat of war with Galinsea, you most likely would have laughed at me, called me paranoid. And yet here we are taking extreme measures—prepared to send a very
young woman into incredible danger to protect ourselves from that very invasion.’

‘What are you saying, Highness?’ Lazar asked, not sure where this was leading and whether Boaz was having second thoughts about the wedding.

Boaz shrugged. ‘Nothing profound, simply pointing out the strangeness of fate. That my father took a harmless fall from his horse—of a sort he had taken many times before—but on that last occasion he was killed by it. The previous Zar died from accidental poisoning because he enjoyed bloatfish. None of us have such a firm grip on life that Zarab can’t take it whenever he wishes. All I’m saying is that my mother has every right to feel angry at how things are turning out. Yes, she probably silently cheered Ana’s demise because I had already announced my intention to choose her…it has taken her so long to attain this status and now it’s being whittled away barely a year into her son’s reign. If I died by accident tomorrow, my mother would be finished and chaos would abound in the palace.’ He stopped abruptly, having not meant to give such a lengthy speech.

‘Hurry up and sire a son on Ana then, Highness, that’s my advice to you.’ Maliz laced his tone with humour and Boaz grinned but the demon had deliberately chosen his words to watch the reaction from the Spur. He got precisely what he expected.

Lazar cleared his throat. ‘Zar Boaz, we must leave immediately the nuptials are done with.
I’m not sure there will be time after the ceremony for…’

‘Oh come now, Spur,’ Maliz drawled sardonically, ‘are you going to deny a man his wedding rights?’

‘I…’ Lazar looked flustered. ‘Zar Boaz, I—’

Maliz laughed inwardly. So secret lovers within the palace. Forbidden, dangerous love…the best kind. ‘Well, if not a wedding night, at least a chance to consummate the marriage, make it real. Surely this will sit more easily with our Galinsean dignitaries if they know this marriage is genuine.’

Boaz was nodding, much to Lazar’s dismay. Maliz wanted to clap, he was enjoying himself so much.

‘You’re right, Tariq. If nothing else it will give appearance of authenticity,’ Boaz agreed. ‘Good, that’s settled,’ he said, unable to disguise a distinct flush at his cheeks, ‘Ana will join me for a few hours after the ceremony. It is fitting, I do need to talk with her after all that has occurred.’

Now the Vizier did grin openly. ‘Talk? Yes, indeed Highness. I’m sure you will enjoy your conversation but just let it be known that the marriage is consummated. All in the pursuit of diplomacy, Highness.’ He could feel Lazar seething.

Boaz nodded again. ‘You may prepare to leave in the cool of the evening, Lazar.’

He tried not to show that he was gritting his teeth. ‘As you wish, my Zar.’

Maliz really had to stop himself from laughing out loud now. It seemed the Zar, for all his intelligence, was dull when it came to women, or so one-eyed that he couldn’t even sense what was obvious…to him anyway. Maliz returned his focus to Lazar, enjoying playing the Spur as much as laughing secretly at Boaz. ‘Are we not led to believe that it is dangerous for you to enter Romea, Spur?’

‘It is,’ Lazar answered and wasn’t doing a terribly good job of disguising his anger. ‘But I am the only one who can lead Ana there safely, successfully.’

‘Ah, so you get her to the city and then turn her loose alone? Surely she needs an entourage? We can’t go to the Galinsean court like peasants, Zar Boaz.’

‘Again, you’re right, Tariq. Lazar, we need to think this through better. There should be more in the party for the reason our Vizier points out. This is a royal visit. Granted it’s also a diplomatic visit but my wife needs more than you’re offering. As it is you won’t be able to go into Romea, so that leaves who? Jumo?’

Lazar was already shaking his head. ‘Zar Boaz, I must counsel you otherwise. Going across the desert is fraught with dangers. I cannot protect a large party.’

‘You cannot protect us anyway, Spur,’ Maliz chimed in, suddenly including himself in the party. It was not missed by Lazar, who grimaced. ‘Surely
this is such an important diplomatic mission it requires at least some of the usual pomp accorded such an event? We need to appear strong, confident, even if we are terrified out of our wits.’

Lazar’s eyes blazed their anger. Boaz was having none of it, though. ‘Lazar, I know this does not please you. Believe me, it does not please me either to have to send anyone to Galinsea, but Tariq is right. This mission is far too important for Ana to be cast into the enemy’s den alone.’

He knew he was beaten. And if good sense hadn’t prevailed, he might have reached his fingers around the throat of the all-too-helpful Vizier who seemed to be deliberately baiting him. This was not Tariq—not by any stretch of the imagination. Someone else lurked behind those dark, mischievous eyes. He had no doubt now that Tariq was gone, replaced by the demon that Pez had warned about. And Maliz had been with Ana—it was this fact that was driving his fury. She had been in such danger without realising it. He had to speak with Pez.

‘Who exactly would you suggest might make this party more acceptable, Majesty?’ Lazar asked.

‘That’s a good question, I’ll admit it. Time is so short we don’t have many options.

The Vizier piped up again. ‘I shall go, Highness, if you deem that suitable.’ Maliz didn’t look at Lazar but could feel his dislike all but reaching out towards his throat.

Lazar reacted as if stung. ‘As head of security in Percheron I would recommend that we need our head counsel—the Grand Vizier—close to the Zar.’