Goddess

by Fiona McIntosh

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Boaz challenged, all politeness gone, his anger evident by how quickly his hand moved.

  “Majesty,” Maliz whispered, spluttering, “people will see your hand at my throat and they won’t understand. You are meant to be Fayiz, a soldier in training.”

  “Don’t forget your place, Vizier,” Boaz growled, but he let go of the man he threatened. “I enjoy your new sardonic style, Tariq, and by all means let it be a fresh weapon you wield against others, but don’t use it against me. Ever.”

  Maliz rubbed Tariq’s bruised neck, trying not to cough. “Forgive me, Majesty. I was simply trying to understand your incredible devotion to this one woman.”

  “Are you mischief making, Tariq, or do you have something to tell me?” Boaz demanded.

  Maliz stared at his Zar, disguising his shock. The Zar’s violent and highly emotional response was unfounded. “Let me just fetch myself a cup of water, Fayiz,” he said, still rubbing his throat.

  Boaz nodded his permission and Maliz moved over to the skins, poured himself a small cup of water, and took his time swallowing it whilst he thought about what he knew. For all intents and purposes, Lazar was much too fond of Ana, and although he worked hard to hide it, everyone, down to the servants, had noted his helpless devotion to the girl. Their distance from each other on the previous trip into the desert had certainly been contrived–he could work that much out. What he hadn’t considered yet was how much of these same signals Boaz was picking up from a distance. Maliz already knew he should not underestimate the Zar. The youngster might still be trying to grow a decent beard, but he had a mature head on his shoulders. Could the Zar be aware of the doomed couple’s unwise fascination for each other? Maybe the Zar was insanely jealous, given his feelings for the Zaradine, and was just sensibly keeping a lid on his emotions. But it surely wouldn’t take much to lift that lid. Boaz’s outburst was testimony to those emotions beginning to escape…his physcal threat alone demonstrated the depth of his anger. With some careful management, perhaps Maliz could make use of all that pent-up rage.

  He wandered back to the Zar and sat down.

  The Zar cleared his throat. “Tariq, you must forgive–”

  “No, Majesty, I have nothing to forgive,” he whispered, checking to see that no one could eavesdrop. “The error was mine. It is true that I am jealous of the Spur. I always have been. I resent him not only lying with the most beautiful woman in the harem–your wife aside, of course, Highness–but now he casually plucks an exquisite ripe young woman from the desert and has his way with her, too, barely a day after kissing the Valide farewell.”

  Boaz gave him a sympathetic shrug. “Tariq, Lazar did not kiss my mother good-bye. I was there. He was his usual detached and distant self. If my mother suffers delusions that Lazar is going to suddenly become an affectionate, demonstrative, and monogamous partner, I would counsel her otherwise. The fact is, Grand Vizier, the Valide is far too smart to put any sort of constraint on a man she can barely call her own and who has operated under his own set of rules since I was old enough to know him. You have no need to fret on the Valide’s behalf. And you insult Lazar–and indeed me–if you think Percheron’s lauded Spur can be controlled by his physical needs. Let’s face it, Tariq, you and I both know Lazar does not need a tribeswoman to arouse his desires in the middle of a dangerous crossing of the desert when he could lie down with just about any woman he chooses at any time.”

  Maliz smiled inwardly. This was the opening he needed. “Yes, of course you’re right…but that, I hasten to add, was my very point, Majesty.” He sighed. “Anyway, I had no right to talk to you in such a familiar manner and I beg your deepest pardon.”

  He watched Boaz frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Highness?” Maliz’s tone was all innocence and regret now.

  “Explain what you mean by that being your very point.”

  “Er, perhaps not, Highness. I have already overstepped my mark tonight and I wish not to inflame your senses. What I think is not necessarily always wise to share. My years make me more cynical than most, Highness. I must learn to keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Tariq. Now you’re treating me even worse than you did when you were being honest with me.”

  “Highness, I beseech you. I am a loyal servant of Percheron. I have only your interests at heart.”

  “And that is precisely why I am giving you the chance to explain yourself, Grand Vizier.”

  Maliz allowed Tariq’s expression to turn into one of dismay and fear. “Zarab save me, Highness,” he hissed. “I just want to spare you heartache.”

  “What exactly are you talking about?” Maliz heard the dangerous edge to the Zar’s voice now. He had pushed him hard enough. It was time to let Boaz, who was teetering on the edge, choose whether to step back or fall into the abyss.

  Adopting a tone of injured innocence, Maliz replied: “Why, Lazar and Ana, of course.”

  Boaz rocked back. “What about them?” he asked, glaring through his frown.

  “I know that I told you Spur Lazar had been exemplary in his treatment of the Zaradine.”

  “The Valide said the same.”

  “In all respects he was, my Zar, except…” Maliz dropped his head and now moved into his ruse that was half truth, half lie. “There was an occasion–it was one of the nights after the manservant Jumo had died. Lazar was deeply withdrawn and hostile to everyone. He refused to eat, and sat alone, well away from either the royal party or the Khalid.”

  “The Valide told me she delivered food on one of these nights and Ana accompanied her.”

  “That’s right, Highness. It was this same night!” Maliz replied eagerly.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, it was much later, into the early hours of the morning perhaps, when I was disturbed from my sleep. I don’t know what woke me–I have to presume it was a sound and yet I don’t remember hearing anything.” So far it was the truth. Maliz still pondered over that curious moment in the desert when he had felt something akin to the awakening he had been searching for, was still in fact searching for–the awakening that would bring him fully into his powers and tell him Lyana had risen. He saw the frown of irritation on his Zar’s face and knew it was time to hurry on with his tale. “I got up, and lo and behold, there was Zaradine Ana stepping back into the campsite.”

  He watched Boaz suddenly sit upright. “What do you mean, back into the campsite?”

  Maliz shrugged. “Well, I was told by the Zaradine that she had needed to relieve herself. Naturally I believed her. She was, after all, pregnant and sickening.”

  “Was anyone with her?”

  “No, Majesty, she was alone. We were alone. All was silent and still.”

  “Then what is your point, Tariq?”

  Maliz waited for the fresh gust of exasperation from the Zar to dissipate and then let another few moments pass as he feigned reluctance to speak.

  “Tari–”

  “Majesty…” He cut across Boaz’s words softly, putting a sad tone into his voice to enforce the lie. “I didn’t return immediately to my tent. I sat outside, drank some water, got lost in my thoughts. A little while later I saw a figure rounding a dune–precisely the same dune that Ana had emerged from behind. The man moved silently—stealthily, you could say.”

  “Lazar?” Boaz asked, and Maliz heard the catch in the Zar’s throat.

  He nodded miserably. “It seemed so innocent at the time. It’s only now that I am piecing together what could have happened. Majesty, I have no proof. This is speculation and that’s why I was reluctant to say anything.”

  Boaz ignored his protestations. “Do you believe my wife had been with the Spur?”

  Maliz shrugged with as much contrived embarrassment and reluctance as he could muster. “I cannot say. All I can tell you is that it is very possible, Highness, that they were alone and all their careful avoidance of each other is a ruse. I say that with deepest res
pect to yourself and Zaradine Ana. She is pregnant by you and so clearly fond and loyal to you, Majesty, that this is all–simply speculation. I could be reading the situation entirely wrongly; it may have been pure coincidence. I would counsel you that it is unwise to jump to any conclusions.”

  “But you have made me arrive at a conclusion, Tariq, or you would not have begun this conversation. Nothing you say is ever said by chance or without careful thought.”

  “That is true. But I am very mindful that two hops don’t make a leap, Highness. It is always dangerous to make assumptions until the information has been verified. In this instance we cannot verify anything unless…”

  “Unless what?” Boaz demanded, and Maliz suppressed his smile in the darkness. This was too easy!

  “Unless, of course, you already have your own personal suspicions about Spur Lazar.”

  Boaz swung away but Maliz didn’t miss how the young ruler balled his fists, his body tensed with anger.

  “Go and find Lazar. It is time he returned to the camp,” Boaz said in a dull tone. Maliz heard the repressed fury in the young man’s voice. He wanted to laugh out loud. Instead he followed the Zar’s orders and duly went in search of the rutting Spur.

  Lazar had just finished tying on his sword belt.

  “Do you ever go anywhere without those weapons?” Ganya asked lazily from the sand, where she had finally sat up.

  “I bathe with them,” he said smiling to hear her deep chuckle.

  “I enjoyed you, Lazar, but I have to wonder what was driving all that passion. It felt like anger, not lust.”

  Lazar gave a glance of remorse. “It’s not you, Ganya. You are nothing short of delicious…and especially generous,” he replied, offering her a helping hand. She took it, allowing herself to be pulled up to her feet, and set to re-dressing herself. “And you are very beautiful too,” Lazar added, hoping he hadn’t hurt this woman’s feelings. She really was spectacular in every way.

  “Beauty is transient. I like to think I excite a man in other ways.”

  “You do excite me on many levels.”

  “Not enough, though, perhaps?” she queried, eyeing him with her head cocked to one side.

  He sighed. “I cannot offer you anything.”

  “I don’t remember asking you for anything,” she replied. Suddenly she shivered. The temperature had dropped.

  Lazar offered her his cloak, which she gladly allowed him to place around her shoulders, turning her back on him to make it easy. He kissed her neck as he fastened the garment.

  The moon emerged to light them and Lazar knew it was time for them to return to the campsite. “Percheron is on the brink of war, Ganya. Stay here; stay safe and forget this night. I could be dead within weeks.”

  She spun within his embrace to face him. “Don’t die, Lazar. And don’t trust those who are seemingly closest to you.”

  He stepped back, looking at her quizzically, his hands resting on her shoulders. “What does that mean?”

  Ganya shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw something, sensed something–I’m not sure. But there’s a threat from someone you trust.”

  “I trust no one,” he replied.

  “You trust the owl, you trust the girl you seek, you trust the men you travel with…”

  “The girl’s name is Ana and yes, I trust her with my very soul. Iridor will not betray me. I trust only one of the people I travel with.”

  “Who is the young man in your group?”

  “No one,” he said hurriedly. “A friend’s son, training to join the Protectorship.”

  “You don’t trust the older man you’re with. But you aren’t close to him, either. Consider my warning, Lazar–someone close to you will betray you.”

  Lazar felt a chill pass through him and was reminded why he never visited seers. “Is that all you can tell me?”

  “Ana is definitely in danger. I cannot see her but you and she are connected. I followed that connection and I could sense that the threat against her is very real.” Ganya hesitated, then pressed on. “Did you know she is pregnant?”

  Lazar dropped his head. “Yes. She is Zaradine Ana. That’s why I can only love her from afar. Her baby is the Zar’s child.”

  Ganya didn’t seem at all surprised by his confession. “It is an heir.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Even she knows it is a boy.”

  “What else do you see? Please tell me.”

  “I have told you everything. I can only sense certain things–besides I only glimpsed her through you and so can only learn from what you know or feel, or direct me toward.”

  “The main thing is that she is safe.”

  Ganya nodded. “For now. Listen, Lazar, there is something else I want to suggest.”

  “Why do I already believe I won’t like it?”

  She smiled. “Perhaps you will.”

  “Lazar!” They both started at the sound of the voice calling from the darkness.

  “It’s Garjan,” Lazar said, annoyed by the interruption.

  “The one you don’t trust?” she asked, her eyebrow arching.

  “Yes.”

  “I know who he is, Lazar. My father told me that you travel with the Grand Vizier of Percheron.”

  “Does anyone else know?” She shook her head. “Well, as none of the people who were with your father last time are among us now, I would be grateful if we could keep it between us.”

  She nodded. “He will find us any moment. I want to tell you something. I think I should come with you.”

  “No, absolutely not. Definitely, no!”

  “Listen to me,” she urged.

  He pulled away. “No, Ganya! I will not risk your life as well as that of your father. We are all probably walking into Arafanz’s trap, into our deaths. No!”

  “Lazar, I can help you. I can allow you to talk with Iridor. I can protect you both from him.” She pointed into the darkness in the direction of the Vizier’s voice.

  “You know?”

  “I know only that you fear him. I don’t know why and I don’t care. But my skills kept you safe. Trust them. Trust me.”

  “I shall think about it,” he agreed, seeing that she had no intention of backing down.

  “Don’t leave it too long to decide, Lazar. My father will send us all away tomorrow morning. Now kiss me, make it look real when he comes upon us.”

  Lazar grabbed her and kissed her deeply. A moment later the Grand Vizier hoved into view.

  “Ah, there you are, Spur! Did you not hear me?”

  Lazar broke the kiss, winked at Ganya, and moved into Percherese. “I was otherwise occupied, Garjan, can you not see?”

  “You certainly took your time,” Maliz replied, his tone acid.

  “I never rush a woman. And this one is far too delectable to hurry.”

  “Fayiz needs to ask you something,” Maliz said, loading the name with ridicule.

  Lazar sighed. “We’re coming.”

  “I was told to find you and now I’m going to escort you.” Maliz’s tone was officious and presumptuous.

  Lazar spun on his heel, his effort to sound lighthearted in the afterglow of his lover’s embrace vanishing. “If you ever presume to tell me what to do again, I’ll break your neck in a second and there won’t be any warning.” It was all bluster, since he had been warned that he couldn’t kill Maliz, and yet he was surprised to see the Grand Vizier swallow, his lips pursing as he turned and stomped off.

  “Hurry up, Lazar,” he called over his shoulder.

  The Spur’s eyes narrowed in thought and he stared hard at the back of the fleeing man.

  “Lazar?” Ganya pulled at his arm.

  The spell was broken but the niggling notion that he had stumbled upon something stayed with him. “Yes,” he replied. “It is time to go.”

  19

  Herezah was restless but thoroughly enjoying the newfound freedom of her new suite of rooms beyond the harem. An Elim guard moved with her at all times, whi
ch heightened her sense of importance. Since her new status had been declared, she had ensured that she was veiled, conservative in her dress, and guarded in her movements. She would give no one any ammunition at this point; she would be the model regent. But she knew her absence from the harem and her superior status would be galling to Salmeo, hopefully even frightening him.

  She intended to make him pay for his indiscretion and his quietly spoken but not very well-concealed threat. Had he not disturbed them, things might have turned out differently between her and Lazar.

  A bell jangled softly. “Come,” she said, and Bin entered. “Ah, Bin, what news?”

  He crossed the floor and bowed. “We have heard back from the Isles of Plenty, Crown Valide.”

  “And?” she asked, impatient.

  He took a breath. “King Falza of Galinsea is aboard one of the ships. He has accepted your invitation.”

  She clapped her hands. “Thanks to Zarab! When?”

  Bin’s expression turned sheepish. “He would not say, Crown Valide. He said he would send a message soon enough.”

  “Soon enough?” she replied angrily. Then she reined in her critical tone. Bin was her eyes and ears in the world outside the palace. She needed him loyal and keen. And although she was not used to apologizing to anyone other than Boaz, she did so now. “Forgive me, Bin. That was ungracious of me. I realize you are merely conveying the information you have.”

  He looked surprised at her apology, bowing in acknowledgment. “I can confirm, Crown Valide, that there are now five more war galleys and we suspect more are on the way.”

  “The Spur warned there would be more and still Falza waits. He must surely know we are no match for their might.”

  “I’m sure he does. Perhaps he is toying with us?”

  “Well, let us face the beast that threatens us, Bin. I shall go mad sitting around in the palace awaiting death.”

  “What do you mean, Crown Valide?”

  “I mean that I shall take control of this situation as best I can and I will present myself to Falza. He can hardly refuse me.”