Emissary (6 page)

The Valide gave a sound of surprise at the girl’s claim. ‘Taught yourself?’

Ana nodded, embarrassed.

‘How?’

‘The library, Valide.’ Ana failed to mention that Pez had guided her in this, found all the right books and secretly aided her learning, even introduced her to a shy slave—an old man who had suffered the misfortune of being captured by slavers twice in his life. He was originally from the north, where Lazar’s great friend, Jumo, hailed
from. Jumo had disappeared since Lazar’s death but he had known the slave in the library and had suggested him to Pez as a mentor for Ana’s learning of the tough language from the west. After his second capture by the Galinseans, the slave was sold to the aristocracy because of the man’s skill in painting portraits. The librarian had learned both the language of the streets and the higher language of the wealthy. Finally taking his chance to flee from slavery, he had risked an escape with a caravan across the Great Waste Desert in an effort to reach his homeland but had been captured by Percherese slavers and sold to the palace where he now worked in the library assembling a contemporary history of Percheron in pictures. He had taught Ana well.

‘And how well do you speak Galinsean now, Ana?’ Herezah asked, unable to hide her shock.

Again Ana chose not to admit that she was fluent. ‘You are right, it is a difficult language,’ came the diplomatic reply.

Herezah had to admit that talking with Ana felt like she was conversing with a peer. The girl still looked too young to have anything much in her head, save expensive gowns and glittering jewels, but it was obvious that all the perfectly normal traits of being young and female and spoiled were completely lost on this one. Even her manner of speaking was so mature. ‘Not even Boaz can master Galinsean and he has been studying it most of his life.’

‘I would like to try, Valide, if you’ll permit it.’

‘I’ll permit it, Ana, but I see no use in it. I’ll recommend to Salmeo that you be given tutoring but I would like you to learn Akresh as well, which is far more useful for visiting dignitaries and the like.’

‘I’m happy to do so.’

‘Good. So, we’ll both help each other—that is agreed. You have only days to get the girls prepared for their boating picnic. I will recommend the trip into the city to pick out some fabrics and some jewels for you. It’s time we started dressing you to show off your lovely figure and to present you as a potential Favourite for the Zar.’

At this Ana’s eyes clouded again but she maintained her eager expression. It was obvious to Herezah that all mentions of bedding the Zar were causing fear for Ana but, like most things, after the first time it all got easier. Ana would survive as every fearful odalisque down the centuries had. ‘I shall start helping to plan the picnic festivities now, Valide.’

‘Excellent. And I’ll inform Salmeo of our bargain.’

Ana excused herself and in her hurry to depart missed the sly smile of the Valide, well pleased with how adroitly she had manipulated the young woman. Herezah reached for her bell to summon a runner. Salmeo must hear that their plan was now in play.

Pez found Ana sitting with most of the other odalisques in the divan suite. Here couches were laid out around the walls and across the room at well-spaced intervals so the young women could lounge, relax, take some iced tea or sweet pastries if they chose, but, importantly, where most could inhale the fumes of the burning garammala.

This oil, yielded by squeezing the leaves of a tree that grows only on the fringe of the desert, was headily expensive, yet most of the rich of Percheron enjoyed it occasionally. Pez had tried it only twice and both times had been violently ill, so he had never grasped the attraction, although watching others, he realised it had a completely different effect. It appeared to relax users to a state of calm whilst somehow keeping them alert, as if all their senses were heightened. Unlike other relaxants, garammala did not make the user slur, drowse or hallucinate. It simply put them into a gentle mood and one that was happy, bordering on mildly euphoric. It apparently made the inhaler feel almost instantly erotic too, for Pez remembered wandering into this room when
the previous harem had made good use of the pipes and noting that all inhibitions were dropped. It seemed the women were quite happy to spend their newfound erotic currency with anyone who’d pay attention, hence many a eunuch found himself in a compromising position, and it eased amorous relationships between the women themselves. Knowing how they were left longing and lonely and sexually frustrated for years, he could feel only pity for the women who escaped their demons through garammala.

Only Herezah, he recalled, never took the oil, and just as the Valide had resisted it all those years ago, now sat Ana, contriving similar symptoms of joyful mood. She, too, as the Valide did before her, ignored the pipe by her side, knowing no-one would notice…no-one except him, of course. He winked at Ana and she gave him a soft smile as she swung her legs down and stood to greet him.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, hugging her friend. It didn’t look out of place. Pez was popular amongst the harem; he had long ago stopped frightening the youngsters with his terrible tales and now worked hard to keep them entertained by his antics. ‘Where have you been?’

Pez gave her an equally gentle smile but tinged with regret. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all he said, pulling at his hair, as if it were crawling with nits. A couple of girls nearby laughed. ‘What have you been up
to in my absence?’ he added more brightly in a whisper.

She took a breath and arched her eyebrows as if to say plenty had occurred. ‘The Valide requested a meeting with me today.’

Pez expressed his surprise, despite the foolish little hops and jumps he performed to conceal his intelligence from the others present. He burped. More of the girls giggled. ‘And?’

‘Shall we walk?’ she asked.

‘Cartwheel for us, Pez,’ one of the youngsters beseeched.

He did so, happily spinning around the room and expertly avoiding collisions with furniture and beautifully attired women. He enjoyed warranted applause before pretending to be dizzy and staggering out onto the pathways outside the room. Ana duly followed and no-one took much notice of her departure, save a few eunuchs, and none would have thought it a curiosity for one of the odalisques to take a stroll. Pez carefully sat on a small wall and studiously picked his nose, staring at the sky as if uninterested in the person who had followed him. Ana spoke in a low voice as she strolled by him very slowly, pretending to enjoy some sun on her face.

‘She made a bargain with me.’

‘Tell me,’ he whispered.

‘I’m to co-operate, help her with the others girls, especially on this boating trip.’

‘And?’

‘And if I promise not to try anything that breaks the harem rules, she’s going to let me out for a few hours of freedom.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I’m to be permitted into the city alone save an Elim escort.’

Pez stopped picking his nose and resisted the urge to stare at Ana in his anxiety. ‘She’s up to something.’ He watched the beautiful odalisque do an unhurried circumference of a pond.

‘Such as?’ she asked as she returned to pass by him.

‘I don’t know,’ he answered, worried. ‘What else?’

‘I’m to be given a tutor to study Galinsean.’

‘You didn’t tell her you were fluent, did you?’

‘Hardly,’ Ana replied, once again returning and passing him. ‘I didn’t give away much at all other than that I’ve been teaching myself.’

Pez leapt down from the wall and took her hand, pretending to walk alongside her like one of the strange monkeys from the Zar’s zoo. ‘Ana, you have a gift of tongues.’

‘Like you.’

‘No, better than me,’ he whispered amongst the hooting noises he was making. ‘You speak Galinsean already better than any tutor—I hope you can lie your way through the lessons.’

She sighed. ‘I will. It makes me feel closer to him.’

Now Pez stopped, both from sorrow and the guilt of knowledge he did not share with her. He knew precisely to whom she referred. ‘This does not do you any good, Ana.’

‘Keep lurching beside me, Pez, everyone is watching us and enjoying your antics,’ she cautioned. He did so. ‘Galinsean could be useful anyway,’ she continued.

He snorted. ‘What possible use could it be?’

Ana shook her head in gentle capitulation. No-one could understand how much it meant to her to hang onto every last reminder of Lazar. She regretted now not discovering whether he spoke any other languages and asking him directly where he was from. She answered Pez. ‘None, I suppose. She wants me to learn Akresh as well.’

‘Now that is a practical suggestion.’

‘I wonder why she’s being nice?’

‘Herezah will always have a reason for everything she does. Be suspicious at every turn, Ana. She fears you.’

‘Why?’

Pez made a clicking sound of exasperation with his tongue. ‘Because Boaz adores you. Isn’t that obvious? The two of you meet often enough. You forget I’m usually there and hear you laughing with him.’

‘I have asked him not to single me out,’ she countered.

Pez decided it was time to career around the courtyard like an angry monkey now. When he
charged near her, his back to the divan suite, he replied. ‘But still he does, whether you like it or not. His admiration is obvious…and he’s near enough seventeen, Ana. Old enough. You must be ready for where his thoughts head now.’

She scowled. ‘I love another,’ she said, truly shocking him into being still, his expression betraying his complete understanding.

He waddled over to where Ana stood and took her hand, heedless of any eyes watching, although grateful that they could not be heard. ‘This is not about love, child. This is about duty. An odalisque’s duty. As for the person you refer to, it is hopeless.’ That was all he could say without revealing the terrible secret.

‘He’s dead, I know, but that doesn’t stop my heart aching for him, my mind remembering every single little item it can about him, my conscience reminding me that I am the reason he is no longer alive.’

‘Ana, stop!’ Pez said, knowing tears were next, and then raised eyebrows should anyone notice. The other girls would then have to come outside to find out why she was crying. He dropped his voice. ‘This is foolhardy.’ Pez cartwheeled away and then, back on his feet, he ran from the courtyard.

‘Are you all right, Ana?’ someone asked. ‘Did Pez upset you?’

Ana turned. It was an exquisite girl called Sascha, from the region of Akresh, a hilly realm to the east of Percheron famed for its sapphires.
Her hair was the colour of burnished copper and she had become something of a friend these past moons. Ana knew Sascha could see the tears in her eyes. It was best to go along with the idea that Pez ultimately upset everyone for one reason or another. ‘Yes, he was threatening to stone the monkeys in the zoo.’

Sascha gave a pained expression. ‘Don’t believe him. You know he says stupid things all day long.’

‘He sounded so determined, I feel as though he’s rushed off to do the stoning now.’

Sascha took Ana’s arm. ‘Pez is mad, Ana. Everyone knows that. He says anything and everything that comes into his head. Most of the time he’s amusing, I’ll admit, but sometimes he can be quite vicious…but I don’t think he even knows it himself.’

Ana found a watery smile. ‘You’re right,’ she said, squeezing the girl’s arm. ‘I shall ignore him.’

‘That’s the right way to treat him. Pez hates to be ignored and I’m sure to be ignored by you will wound him terribly.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Sascha gave a soft look of exasperation. ‘Everyone can see how he loves you. You’re definitely his favourite.’

Ana was tired of hearing that word. ‘Come on, we have to make preparations for our boat excursion,’ she said, determined to keep her promise to the Valide.

Iridor flew. Pez was risking much in this flight, having received a request from the Zar to meet with him for the midday meal. Boaz was used to Pez’s unreliability but as they hadn’t seen each other for many days it might make the Zar suspicious and if Boaz mentioned anything to the nosey Vizier, then Tariq might take still more interest in the dwarf.

But he had to speak with Lazar as promised. This was becoming a detestable situation. It was not so bad for Zafira—she did not have daily contact with Odalisque Ana. But Pez did, and the situation of blatantly lying to the girl was well past the point of discomfort.

He also needed time to think about Herezah’s latest move. What was she up to? It would be best to share this with his friend.

He found Lazar in the small copse behind the cottage.

‘There you are,’ he said, in his dwarf shape once again.

‘Greetings, Pez. Zafira said you planned to visit. Join me on my walk.’

‘Is that what you call it?’ Pez asked and grinned at Lazar’s crease of confusion. ‘More like lurching.’ It wasn’t true, of course. He was genuinely thrilled to see his friend moving so easily once again.

‘Be quiet, dwarf. You can hardly make fun with that strange waddle of yours,’ Lazar replied. It was
the first time in a year that Pez had heard Lazar say anything that was even remotely lighthearted. This was a great sign that the strong man they were counting on was returning to them. Considering that even as recently as three moons ago the man had not been able to concentrate for any length of time, other than when gazing forlornly across the water, he had made stunning progress suddenly. ‘You’ll take into account I don’t use sticks any more,’ he added, a note of triumph in his voice.

‘I do. I’m impressed, Lazar, truly,’ Pez said.

‘One day I shall run again. I’ll even be able to overtake you,’ Lazar said, warming now and the hint of amusement in his tone made Pez’s heart soar.

‘You fail to appreciate, friend cripple, that I fly with such grace I would leave you in my wake.’

They both grinned. It was a special moment in a year of bleakness. It felt to Pez as though they were crawling out of a dark tunnel. Because Lazar had been so ill they hadn’t even had the right opportunity on the two brief occasions they’d seen each other to talk about all that had occurred since Lazar had returned from the foothills with a young girl in tow. Perhaps today was the day to have that discussion.

‘It’s good to have you back, Lazar,’ he said.

The former Spur sighed. ‘I made a decision last moon that I either give into this affliction and hope the next attack kills me, or I fight back fully to health. I’m almost there.’

‘I gather it will still attack, though,’ Pez said, never one to observe diplomacy.

‘According to Ellyana, it will. But it will have to attack a fit body rather than a frail one. That’s my only defence.’

Pez nodded, moved by the change in his friend’s mindset from brooding, angry silence to this new optimism. He had always known it would arrive but as the year had drawn on, the dwarf had begun to question his faith in Lazar’s resilience. ‘That’s the spirit. And your hair is now its true colour, I assume?’ he said, amazed at the difference but also keen to continue the lighthearted banter.

‘Yes, just as yours is,’ Lazar replied tartly, referring to the strange line of white hair that ran down one side of Pez’s head.

‘Ah, my change makes me look even more odd than I ever did. But you, my friend, you look more handsome than ever.’

Lazar gave a soft self-deprecating snort, knowing how gaunt he truly appeared.

Pez continued, waving his arms theatrically. ‘Now you look truly like a Galinsean prince.’

Lazar impaled him with those light eyes that gave him away as a foreigner. ‘It’s a relief not to have to colour it any more,’ he said and the sigh that followed said so much more about secrets and family, pain and grief.

‘Such lengths to hide an identity.’ Pez gave a sound of admonishment.

‘We are not so different, you and I,’ Lazar reminded Pez. ‘You’ve feigned madness for decades to hide yours.’

‘Not to hide my identity,’ Pez corrected.

‘Just your sanity, right?’

Pez nodded. ‘And something else.’ Despite his need to be back at the palace swiftly he had promised today was going to be one in which all of his secrets were shared.

This captured Lazar’s attention. ‘Oh? What else have you been hiding from me?’

Pez took a deep breath. ‘I have the Lore.’ Lazar stared at him for what felt like an eternity. ‘Say something,’ the dwarf added, uncomfortable in the silence.

His friend shook his head in wonder. ‘I thought I had you worked out but you are full of surprises. I also thought the Lore was make-believe.’

‘It’s not.’

‘What does it mean for you?’

‘It means secrets, Lazar. It means hiding and constant anxiety at being found out. It means denying the call of the magic that is at my fingertips, which I refuse—most of the time anyway—to even acknowledge.’

Lazar had never seen Pez upset before. It stopped him in his tracks. He sat down on a tree stump. ‘Most of the time?’

‘I relented and used it twice recently. Until those two moments, I have resisted being seduced by it during all of my years in the palace.’

‘What happened?’ Lazar asked.

This was going to be the hardest bit, Pez knew. ‘Remember Kett?’