Emissary (41 page)

He heard a shout go up in the distance—it was Pez, he thought—and assumed the celebrations were in full swing. They would be eating bustard tonight and perhaps Ana might brighten as well. Lazar ran up the dune feeling curiously happy, his long legs sinking into the soft golden sand, and he was still inwardly grinning, having clawed his way to the top, when he was faced with a sight more chilling than he could have ever imagined.

His mood evaporated in an instant as he stared death coldly in the face.

Back at the camp Ana was vomiting. She had eaten little for her first meal of the day but even that tiny amount was now staining the sands well beyond the royal tent.

‘Well, if her womb has quickened—and it sounds promising—we may have begun securing your son’s throne, Valide.’ Maliz secretly wished he’d gone with the hunting party but he couldn’t resist Ana’s pleas when she had begged him to stay, frightened by her worsening state.

‘I suppose I should be pleased,’ Herezah sighed, fanning herself to stir the hot air beneath their canopy. ‘I just wish it wasn’t hers.’

‘Why do you hate her so? She is good for your son.’

‘No, she’s not, Tariq. He is besotted with her. Boaz needs more wives if he is to truly secure his throne.’

‘And you think he won’t because of Ana.’

‘Boaz has developed such a fascination for this girl that I don’t notice him taking any interest in any of the other beautiful young women we have assembled for him. This is dangerous.’

Maliz understood more than Herezah wanted him to. He accepted her reasoning, knew what she said was right, but he also knew Herezah’s main concern was how much power might be given unwittingly to Ana if she remained Boaz’s only mate. It was not so far beyond the realms of imagination that she could not only be Zaradine and Absolute Favourite but also Valide within ten moons.

‘Dangerous for whom, Valide?’

‘For all of us, Grand Vizier. Surely you’re not naive enough to believe that one woman for the Zar is how the new regime will shape itself. It is wrong. Joreb will curse his choice of successor.’

‘Joreb chose well, Valide. He chose well with his Favourite and he chose well with her son.’

Herezah eyed the Grand Vizier and felt momentarily lost for words. ‘You know, Tariq, you could have said those same words to me two years ago and I would simply have sneered at you for the snivelling, self-important and oily character that you once were. Now I take them as the compliment you intended.’

‘I’m glad of this. It is sincerely meant, Valide, but then I speak only the truth.’

‘You never did before.’

‘Before what?’ he asked, amused.

‘Before Joreb died, before Boaz took the throne and you went through some sort of change, emerging from your chrysalis, to give us this new sober, intelligent, charismatic Vizier.’

‘Charismatic?’ he echoed and smiled seductively.

‘I swear you’re a different man, Tariq. You didn’t buy some special magic, did you, along with that magical potion you told me of that keeps you suddenly young and virile?’

‘Virile?’ Now he sounded disbelieving.

‘Don’t be coy, I see you looking at women now.’

‘Why wouldn’t I? Surrounded by such beauty.’

‘Tariq, I have known you all of my life and not once have you looked at me in the way you look at me now. I see how you look at Ana, I see how you appreciate all women from slave to dignitaries’ wives whenever they’re permitted to attend formal functions. It is perfectly normal, I agree, it’s just that before Joreb died, you were all but sexless.’

Maliz clapped his hands and openly laughed. ‘Let’s just say I hid it well, Valide. There was no room for my true personality at the palace under Joreb. The sycophant suited him.’

‘He hated you.’

‘But I suited you, always ready as the willing servant,’ he added, seemingly unfazed by her candour.

‘What changed you?’

‘Boaz can benefit from me being honest.’

She felt he was speaking in riddles, giving her no clear answers, but pressed on. ‘What are your intentions with Boaz?’

He became more serious, intense. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, Valide. Be assured of this. My interests lie elsewhere from power and money. I do not want to be the puppeteer, simply a reliable adviser.’

‘Then you truly have changed,’ she said, genuinely surprised. ‘Your whole life with Joreb was spent in petty power struggles with Salmeo and with gaining any little ground or notoriety for yourself out of any situation.’

‘Yes, and I didn’t enjoy it, Valide, but I served a purpose and I served Joreb loyally through it all.’

She acknowledged the truth of what he said with a nod. ‘And now?’

‘Still happy to serve.’

‘Without seeking power or reward?’

‘Reward comes in all shapes and sizes and all colours, Valide.’ Again the shaded answer, she thought. ‘With Boaz as Zar we all have the opportunity to help him shape Percheron into the single most powerful realm of the region. We are easily the richest but now we need to add strength with ships, our army, we must learn to secure our boundaries at the desert and we now have an opportunity to forge a formal peace with Galinsea that might secure the Percherese throne as a dynasty spreading many centuries. And we will all benefit in the ways we desire, I’m sure.’

‘You make it sound easy.’

‘It can be if people like yourself stop chasing your own little plans and simply support the Zar. You want for nothing as Valide and I know Boaz admires you tremendously—would appreciate your input frequently—but you trouble him with your desire to use him towards your own ends. If you don’t mind me being frank, Valide, there should be no ends of your own. You are a woman. You cannot rule…not ever. But you can have a different sort of power if you’ll only relent. Give up your own mission—whatever that was or is—and give yourself over entirely to Boaz’s needs. I think you’ll be surprised with how much he will reward you for that kind of support.’

Herezah tapped her front teeth with a fingernail that no longer shone as she liked.

He continued. ‘Your association with Salmeo—and the lengths to which it has stooped,’ he added, knowing she understood his meaning without him verbalising it, ‘will not serve you well in the long run. Salmeo is dangerous and he himself stands on shaky ground. He has taken incredible risks because he probably believes he has your protection. I’m sure you know that Boaz has no time for him and is ever suspicious of him. If he could have pinned the Grand Master Eunuch down properly for the mystery surrounding the attempt on the Spur’s life, Salmeo would no longer be drawing breath.’

‘It was proven as Horz. The man admitted it,’ Herezah replied.

‘And you know that Horz being a murderer is as likely as me becoming a young man again.’ He smiled with a wicked glint in his eye, enjoying his own jest. He had already decided that when this battle with Lyana was done and he had destroyed her once again, he would be choosing the body of a young man to inhabit, no matter what the cost to his energies. He was weary of creeping around in the bodies of old men and women, living in squalor usually and awaiting the next cycle. No, this time he planned to enjoy the time of peace in luxury and with a body that allowed him the freedom to take full advantage of such decadence. He was going to especially enjoy the pleasures of women.

In fact he had already decided on his next victim. It was too irresistible, now that he’d allowed himself to become so involved with the power merchants in the palace.

Who better than Boaz? Then he could sleep with any number of the beautiful creatures in the harem but especially he could taste the delicacy that was Ana.

It gave Maliz a warm feeling inside each time he considered this new plan of his. He would be gentle with Boaz as he died. He genuinely liked him and rather pitied that the young man must perish, but he coveted the Zar’s body and his position more than any reservation that conscience would permit. His smile widened at the thought of giving lots of heirs to Percheron.

‘Fret not, Valide, I will promise you something.’

‘What is that?’

‘Many wives for your son and plenty of heirs—in fact I think I can promise you that Boaz will lie with virtually every woman in your precious harem. What’s more, I’ll even let you choose the heir.’

‘You will!’ she echoed, incredulous.

He chuckled, cleared his throat, feigning embarrassment. ‘What I meant to say is, I feel very sure that Boaz will be guided by you in his choice of heir.’

Again she felt somewhat baffled by the Grand Vizier. ‘How can you guarantee me that?’ she demanded.

‘Just trust me, Valide, you know Boaz already does. Throw your considerable intelligence and wiles into your son. Forget everything else—join me and help me to build his power base. We can make him the most invincible Zar that has ever ruled in Percheron, and everything you desire, save ruling yourself, will come to you.’

‘Trust you?’

He nodded and something in his mischievous grin intrigued her. He was certainly saying all the right words to win her over.

‘Start with Ana,’ he said. ‘She is probably carrying your grandchild. And she and that child begin your future.’

‘All right, Grand Vizier, you have my word. When this task is done with, I shall give you my
trust and we shall see how well you can keep a promise.’

Maliz pulled a smile across Tariq’s face. This was all so easy, he thought.

As Lazar crested the dune he felt the blood drain from his veins. He was sure it was all pooling in his ankles for his legs felt too heavy to move and his body felt suddenly clammy, despite the dry intense heat.

Below him a thick silence reigned. Men looked up at him with stunned expressions of helplessness and the one who looked the most desolate of all was Jumo, already sunk to his thighs but holding Shahin carefully aloft.

‘Quicksand?’ Lazar croaked, incredulous.

Everyone nodded sorrowfully, even though it needed no answer, and then the silence thickened, became suffocating, as Lazar picked his way carefully to stand alongside Pez.

Tingles of fear soared through his spine, stiffening his neck and drying out his mouth. The situation looked hopeless, everyone knew it, especially Jumo, who spoke before Lazar could offer empty platitudes that he was going to survive this.

‘Sorry, Master.’ He shrugged. ‘I should never have struggled. They say you can float on quicksand if you don’t move too much. I forgot that advice in my panic.’ He changed to Khalid. ‘I’m going to throw Shahin. She will come to you, won’t she, Salim?’

The Khalid mumbled that she would and they watched as Jumo, ever practical, launched the falcon and sank still further for his efforts. She flew directly to Salim’s outstretched arm which was wrapped in fabric so her claws did not dig into his flesh. He stroked her, squeezing back his own emotion. It was never easy to lose a man to quicksand, not even a stranger, and the Khalid had come to like the wiry little man from the north.

‘Salim,’ Lazar barked, finding his voice. ‘What can we do?’

‘Nothing, Spur,’ he murmured. ‘Your man is lost to us.’

‘Don’t say that! Do we have fabric?’ he asked, pointing to the men’s waists, pulling at his robe to make them understand, remembering the material they had fashioned canopies from. ‘Anything we can fashion a rope from?’

‘We brought nothing,’ Salim said, also pulling at his own robe to convey to the Spur that they had only the clothes they stood in.

‘Then we use our clothes!’ Lazar roared. He was stripped to a loincloth in moments.

‘Lazar! Lazar!’ It was Jumo, desperate to still his friend, win his attention.

Pez grabbed his arm. ‘Listen to him, Lazar.’ And the Khalid frowned, hearing the dwarf speak sense for the first time. Pez didn’t have time to consider the implications of revealing himself, but in that moment of recognition, he felt
himself safe amongst the desert people who had no reason to consult with the royals. Perhaps he could speak with them later, explain.

Lazar stopped his frantic activity, turning ashen-faced to his companion of so long. Around him the Khalid murmured softly at seeing the Spur’s damaged back but Lazar heard nothing. He looked into the sad face of Jumo, who now spoke to him in soothing tones.

‘It is too late, my friend. Look, I am already past my waist. You cannot pull me out—unless we had the camels, of course,’ he said, ‘but they are too far and instead of false hopes and you rushing off to fetch those beasts in vain, I’d rather die calmly now with your face the last I see before I go to my Goddess.’

Lazar fell to his knees. ‘Jumo…’ his voice so broken that Pez had to look away.

The dwarf looked at Salim and he understood, quietly summoning his men with a small gesture. One by one they filed past touching their hand to head, lips and heart, whispering,
May Lyana take you quietly to her breast.
Pez couldn’t believe what he was hearing; the desert people had not relinquished their faith in the Goddess, not out here in the Great Waste, where no-one came to censure their spiritual devotion.

Salim was the last to offer his farewell to Jumo and then he turned to the dwarf and gave a small, sad smile. ‘It seems we have both exchanged a secret, brother,’ he said.

‘Indeed,’ Pez murmured. ‘Yours is safe with me.’

Salim nodded, risked laying a hand on the Spur’s bare, trembling shoulder, and squeezed gently, wincing at the sight of this man’s back that was a maze of scar tissue. He could only wonder privately at such torture as he quietly moved away and over the dune, leaving the three friends and their new companion, death, to make their peace.

Jumo had almost sunk to his chest. He forced himself not to struggle. ‘Forgive me for bringing this pain to you, Lazar.’

Lazar was openly weeping now, although he made not a sound. ‘What can I do?’ he begged in a distraught whisper.

‘Let me go,’ the brave man from the north beseeched. ‘And know you have been loved by another who has never had a better friend.’

‘Pez!’ Lazar looked around wildly. ‘The Lore. Surely you can—’

Pez shook his head before Lazar went off onto a new path of hopelessness. ‘No,’ he said sadly.

‘You have magic, lift him free.’

‘I cannot.’

‘Then keep him alive long enough for me to fetch the camels. Hurry! We have a chance.’

Pez knew irreparable damage would be wreaked on his friendship with the Spur with his next words if he were truthful, so he lied and hated himself for it. ‘The Lore does not work that way.’

‘What do you mean? It’s magic! Hurry, man, look, he’s to his breast. Please, I beg you.’ Lazar
looked a broken man, tears streaming down his face, on his knees, all but naked and his arms open in supplication.