This time it is different, Ezram said.
So I am told, Lazar replied, a bleakness in his tone. What is my part in this?
You do not know? Beloch asked, surprised.
I have never known.
Then it is not for us to say. One of your duties is to release us, Lucien. That is your part for us.
Release you! How do I do such a thing? You are set in stone!
We are alive! We have always been alive! We are imprisoned through magic. You must thwart the magic.
How?
Only you know. You must find the solution fast. War is upon us.
Lazar hung his head. I don’t–
It is within you. Beloch cut across Lazar’s despair. You must go back now. Someone attends you.
Hurry, Ezram urged.
Through their voices and through his own breathing, above the pounding of his heart and the whoosh of blood coursing through his ears, fringing his fever and cutting through his confusion, Lazar heard a whisper, a voice he recognized, calling to him. Yet he turned back to the darkness, to the stone statues.
Answer me this! he cried at the brothers.
There is no–
Answer me! Is Ana the Goddess?
No, they replied together. But the Goddess rises.
And Lazar was flung backward, his eyelids springing open to regard Herezah leaning down, looking into his face. He read fear in her eyes.
Arafanz stood before a small fireplace that did little to ease the chill of the room. He was dressed in loose-fitting trousers and shirt, looking more like a soldier, less like a cleric. He looked suddenly younger. In his hand was a clay goblet, from which he sipped as she entered.
“Welcome, Ana,” he said, voice soft, melodic. “I trust you are refreshed.”
“I am, thank you,” she stammered, unsure how this cozy scene matched the prison she understood this place to be.
“Come, sit, warm yourself. I should have sent a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. Forgive me.”
“There is no need to fuss. You did not trouble yourself for the past three moons of my incarceration. It can hardly matter now.”
He held her gaze intently and Ana was pleased she did not wither beneath it.
“Would you like me to explain?”
She nodded. “I would like to understand what this whole business of my capture is about. If you have no intention to kill or even ransom me, what use am I to you?”
“Come join me. I will tell you what I can.”
She dabbed his lips with a soaked sponge. “Be calm. It’s me, Herezah. You are feverish and hallucinating.”
“But Beloch and Ezram are–”
“Still in the bay, yes, where they’re meant to be. Lazar, pay attention if you can. The Elim are here to bring you with me. They are going to carry you in a special karak. Can you hear me? Lazar?”
He shook his head from side to side, his face a mask of confusion.
Herezah turned to the two senior Elim with her. “Just take him. Ignore him if he resists. This is on the Zar’s orders.”
Salmeo stood nearby. “Rather intriguing to see him look so wasted. At the flogging he at least appeared strong, but now he’s just a shadow of the Spur we all knew.”
“Not once I’ve finished with him, Grand Master Eunuch,” Herezah said, her tone crisp. “Let’s get him back to the rooms we’ve prepared.”
Under the amused gaze of the chief eunuch, six Elim lifted Lazar’s struggling body, which was too weak to be anything more than a nuisance to their efforts to carry him.
“The Zar wants this house aired properly and cleaned,” Herezah said, not even looking at Salmeo as she swept by him. “See to it, eunuch.”
4
Ana sat, feeling nervous as she watched Arafanz reach for the carafe of whatever he was drinking. Despite his seeming relaxation this evening, she realized that Arafanz was not a man who was ever tranquil in thought. His gaze was restless and his hands were rarely still. He didn’t sit, preferred to stand.
“We have no ability to chill our food or wine, but this is Dorash, a sweet and mellow blend from the north,” he explained as he poured. “It can be served cool rather than cold.” He blinked. “Ah, Dorash is a grape from the region where one of your companions came from–the one who perished in the desert.”
“Jumo? You knew about it?”
“We watched.”
“But you did not help,” she admonished, a gust of pain rippling through her, reminding her of Lazar’s despair.
“It was not our place to interfere and we had no intention of disrupting the special surprise we had planned for later.”
“What else did you see?” Ana asked, suddenly fearing that his men had also shared her night of love in the Lazar’s arms.
“How do you mean? Your party was followed from the moment you left the city of Percheron.”
Ana was so shocked by this news that she could say nothing in response. She chose to hope that her betrayal of Boaz was not common knowledge amongst the Razaqin. She did not have the courage to find out for sure.
“Taste your wine, Ana, please,” Arafanz urged, and she did, if for no other reason than to cover her anxiety. “Is it to your liking?”
“Does it really matter?” she snapped, trying to regain her equilibrium.
He shrugged. “I suppose not. I am not sure I can make you happy here but we shall try and do our best to treat you with courtesy.”
“Really? So the murder of so many before my eyes is your idea of making a guest comfortable?”
Arafanz impaled her with a cool stare. “I explained to you I was making a point about what true loyalty really is–and how ugly it can be.”
“Well, it was meaningless! All I saw was men squander their lifeblood. Loyalty had no part in this. To me it was about convincing young, impressionable men that giving up their lives so cheaply had some reason.”
“But that’s it. There was reason. Proving loyalty to their cause.”
“Proving loyalty to stupidity more like,” Ana countered angrily.
“You have spirit. I’ll grant you that,” he murmured, and came as close to a full smile as Ana thought she might ever see from him.
“I care not that I impress you. Why am I here?”
“I want to cleanse Percheron of its sin.”
She stared, uncomprehending, at her captor. “What do you mean?”
“We are going to kill everyone in the palace, including its servants and all of the priests at the temples. We shall spare the innocents–the Percherese people who know no better–and we shall help Percheron to make a fresh start.”
“A fresh start? As what?”
“A new regime.”
“And you Zar, I suppose?” she said, her tone all scorn.
“No, in this regard you have me all wrong. I have no aspirations of that nature.”
“Then what do you want, Arafanz?”
“Your child on the throne, Ana, and the faith of the Goddess restored. That is what I want.”
Ana’s horror couldn’t have been more complete. She stared at him openmouthed, her goblet of wine forgotten, tilted in her lap with some of its contents spilling out onto her fresh linen robe.
Arafanz continued, “You are here for your protection and that of the child’s. We nearly lost you in the palace–we shall not risk you again.”
“We?”
“Ellyana and–”
“Ellyana!” Ana stood. The goblet dropped and splashed what little wine was left across the floor as the clay shattered. “What has she to do with this?” she demanded, eyes glittering with anger.
“Everything.”
“So you are a follower of Lyana?”
“All of us here are.”
Ana felt her bile rising. “And those men killed themselves for her?”
“Certainly not for me, or you,” came his reply. “I am purely their leader and her disciple. I will restore her to Percheron. This time it is different.”
“And me? What is your interest in me, then? Simply my child?”
He nodded, looking away. “An heir to the throne. A follower, faithful to Lyana. We know you are. We know your child will be. We know the Goddess wants you safe, your child crowned.”
“But who is Lyana?” she asked, feeling the question catch on her breath.
He shook his head. “No one knows, this time not even Iridor.”
“Iridor has risen?” Ana asked carefully. She must not betray anything she knew.
“I don’t know. I am told it is all playing out very differently this time. I know only what I am permitted. Perhaps it is the same for you?” Ana said nothing and Arafanz continued. “But I want to assure you that I am not your enemy, even though it may seem that way.” He bent to pick up the clay pieces of her goblet. “Can I pour you another?”
She shook her head. Her anger had fled, had been replaced with confusion and no little despair.
“Then at least share some supper with me. I am your protector.”
Ana didn’t want to mention that she already had one of those. One she loved with all her heart. “You have a funny way of showing it. Why did you leave me to rot in that room?”
“I have been away. That room kept you safe. Away from prying eyes and also away from temptation.”
She gave a mirthless burst of a laugh. “Temptation? In my condition?”
“I didn’t mean you. You are the only woman in this fortress. I believe that men, no matter how firm their resolve, can be undone by a woman.”
“So, for all your claims of loyalty, your men would undermine you in a blink if I offered my affections?” she baited.
He regarded her sadly. “Some might, others would. Men think they have power but it is not always so. It’s women, I fear, who hold the ultimate power. Power over our bodies, power over our seed and what becomes of it, power over our hearts and souls. Another reason why Lyana is right to be our god. This morning’s demonstration was important to impress upon you that we are serious in our intention and that these men are loyal to their cause. I think I ordered it as much for their sake as yours. They needed to be reminded that our cause and our lives beyond the fleshly ones of this existence are more important.”
Ana shook her head, disbelief in her expression. “You’ve stolen me from my people. The deaths haven’t impressed anything upon me save your cruelty. Don’t you think I realize how serious you are?”
“No. Until this morning you had no reason to fear me, or my men, as much as you fear us now. Now you know that nothing earthly can stop us. We are committed to Lyana’s cause. She will prevail this time. Not only Maliz but the followers of Zarab will die.”
“Lazar will stop you,” she warned, unable to help herself.
Arafanz nodded. “He will try. And how sad it is that he and we are working toward the same cause.”
“Lazar works only for Zar Boaz and the good of Percheron. He does not share your crusade.”
“Not knowingly perhaps, but he shares the same ideals; he admires Lyana. If he were with us right now, he might well see the sense in what I am proposing.”
“Never! He would never be disloyal to the royals, and he will protect Boaz to the death. For all your spying, you don’t seem to know the Spur all that well if you think he would ever condone senseless murder of any Percherese–or anyone, for that matter.”
“Then, alas, he will die too. But let us stop this talk of death, Ana. You are what…? Perhaps nearing three moons with child? I am informed you became pregnant the first time you lay with your Zar.” Ana felt herself blush at both his knowledge and his candor. “We have up to another six moons together before anything can happen. You are my guest and your welfare is my concern.”
“I want nothing from you,” she said as coldly as she could.
“We shall see,” Arafanz said, summoning one of his hooded men. “Now, let me organize some food. You carry the most important life in all of Percheron in your belly, and if you won’t eat for yourself, I insist you eat for him.”
“How can you be so sure my child is male.”
“Ellyana told me.”
Maliz, the demon who hid beneath the facade of Grand Vizier Tariq, couldn’t really have cared less about the petty mortal war that was certainly coming, but recently he had decided that his next body would be that of Boaz. And so preserving the life of the present Zar and perhaps even his delectable harem, was of some concern.
The Zar’s invitation to sup together had eventuated and now Boaz leaned back against silken cushions. They had begun eating very late, although Maliz noticed the Zar hardly touched his food.
Boaz reached for a fig, nibbled on it. “Have you heard that the Valide is bringing the Spur into the palace? She’s determined to ensure his return to good health.”
“Yes, my Zar, I’d been informed,” the Grand Vizier replied, his own supper appetite still not sated even after a plate of rice blended with chicken and vegetables, a pyramid of lamb cubes on skewers crusted with herbs and cooked over an open flame, and the jug of the fermented mare’s milk he habitually took with his evening repast. He ladled some thick meaty soup into a bowl. “You are not eating much, Highness.”
“Forgive me. I am not hungry tonight.”
Maliz thought that Boaz had likely not been hungry since he first heard of what had unfolded in the desert. “You must keep yourself nourished, Majesty. You health is now more important than ever and you look extremely thin.” He had no intention of inhabiting a frail Zar’s body if it could be helped.
Boaz nodded, distracted. He put the uneaten fig aside and took a draft of watered wine instead. “I’m going to send a party into the desert to find Zaradine Ana.”
“I assumed you would, Highness. In fact, I’m more surprised at your patience.”
“I’ve had to be patient, for I can’t find her without Lazar and he has not been well enough to have anything close to a discussion with. But I’m hoping my mother’s efforts will return his vitality.”
“So you’re sending him back into the desert?”
“I plan to.”
“What about the Galinsean invasion? Do you not think the Spur is best left in the city once he’s well?”
“If my wife is carrying Percheron’s heir, I think that child is more important to our future than any of us realize.”
“I don’t agree, my Zar,” Maliz cautioned, his interest in the soup forgotten. He could not risk Boaz being so uncaring of his people’s lives–all Zarab worshippers–or especially of his own. “Ana, lovely though she is, is but one of your women. You have several dozen, of which at least thirty must be ready for bedding. Get more of these girls with child–start tonight, Majesty–sire ten new sons upon them, and if need be, secure them somewhere outside of Percheron. The royal line must be preserved, I agree, but you are in a position to do so now without compromising the realm’s security. We need Lazar here, my Zar.” He held Boaz’s gaze steadily.
Boaz regarded his Grand Vizier with a cool stare. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear, Tariq. It is only the heir in Ana’s belly in which I’m interested.”
This intrigued Maliz. He knew Boaz was fascinated by his new Zaradine but he hadn’t realized that the young Zar was so smitten that he had ruled out any other relationship and even other heirs by another wife. Despite his exasperation with the young ruler, he responded calmly. “But, my Zar, you had her executed no fewer than four moons ago. If not for Spur Lazar’s theatrics, she would certainly have succumbed.”
“That was then, when she was neither my Zaradine nor the carrier of my heir. She was merely an odalisque–and may I remind you that it was not I who called for her death. The harem, as you know, has its own rules and internal politics. In these matters of punishment I have little say. My only role in that whole sorry affair was to make the pronouncement of her death–and I can assure you that did not please me. In fact, it sickened me.”
“You hid your despair admirably, Majesty.” Maliz didn’t succ
eed in hiding the sarcasm in his tone.
Either Boaz didn’t hear it or he chose to ignore the bite of his Vizier’s reply. “I would have shamed my father had I done anything other than veil my true feelings. I had no choice politically but to follow the ways and laws of our land.”
“So it is different now–” the Grand Vizier began, but Boaz cut him off.
“Of course it is! I have secured her future by making her my wife. Now she is mine and the child of hers belongs to me. I will declare him my heir immediately if necessary.”
The Grand Vizier frowned, unsure of why there was so much vehemence driving the Zar’s words. His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded the young ruler and his curious choice of words. What was at play here that he didn’t understand? Something was not right, he was sure of it–there was an undercurrent that he couldn’t pinpoint. He moved on carefully. “Of course, Highness. That is your prerogative,” he soothed. “I can see now why you are giving this your priority. How can I assist you?”
Boaz drained his goblet before answering. “I want you to help the Valide in any of her needs regarding Lazar.”
“You have my word.”
“I assume none of our networks have revealed anything about this Arafanz or the Razaqin he speaks of?”
“None yet, but I am meeting with someone shortly who may know something.”
“Who?”
Maliz put a soft expression of sympathy onto the Grand Vizier’s face. “Ah, Majesty, you know I can’t reveal the sources of information. We have discussed this previously–that I don’t wish to compromise the Crown in any way. You are always furnished with whatever information I can discover.”
Boaz nodded, showing he understood. “Then the moment Lazar is fit, he will be sent to find her. I’m giving him another four moons at most. I cannot wait any longer. The child will be due and I don’t want it born in the desert.”
“They why risk waiting? Send other men.”
The Zar shook his head firmly. “I trust no one else to survive the desert or survive whatever fight might be involved to wrest her back from that madman’s clutches.”
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