Goddess

by Fiona McIntosh

  “Crown Valide, I must–”

  “Bin, I do hope you don’t plan to contradict me?” The servant stared at her, wide-eyed, before slowly shaking his head. “Oh, that’s good. You must not worry about me. We are all in this precarious situation together. My role right now is to do everything I can to protect Percheron. If that means throwing myself on the mercy of a foreign king, I shall not hesitate. I mean to return this city intact to my son when he reemerges from the desert with his heir.”

  She watched Bin stand straighter at her rousing words. She was right. Percheron needed a fearless leader right now. “Prepare a statement for our people, Bin. Let’s let them know my intentions. Have it ready by eighth bell for me to approve.”

  Bin swallowed. “As you wish, Crown Valide. When, er, when do you intend to make this visit?”

  “The day after tomorrow, I think…if we haven’t heard from our Galinsean rival by then. Thank you, Bin. Send in Elza if you see her on your way out. I must make plans with her for readying me for this expedition.”

  The morning had dawned and brought with it a dry, hot wind. Lazar was eager to depart to get in a few hours’ travel before it intensified.

  Salim approached. “I hear you and Ganya enjoyed each other’s company last night.”

  Lazar glanced at his Khalid friend. “She is very special, your daughter. Who looks after her in your absence?”

  Salim shrugged. “She belongs to our people. She is our lajka–everyone would fight to protect her.”

  “I see,” Lazar said, nodding. “It is time to send your people on their way, Salim. We must make our own way west now.”

  “How do you know in which direction we are to travel?”

  “You will have to trust me on this. And I am going to pretend to my companions that you know the way.”

  “I? Lazar–”

  “Please, Salim. Just do as I say.”

  The Khalid stared at him through narrowed eyes, their gazes locked momentarily before the desert man nodded. “Ready your people.”

  Lazar turned immediately to start hurrying along his Zar and the Grand Vizier. “Are you set?” he said to Boaz, although he could already see that the young Zar was ready to leave.

  “Yes,” Boaz replied crisply, and Lazar did not miss the chill of his tone.

  Lazar called out to the Grand Vizier. “Tariq, we’re leaving now. Your camels await.” He returned his attention to Boaz. “I’ll see you over there.”

  Boaz did not respond.

  “Highness,” Lazar said, moving close to the Zar so he could speak quietly. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, why? Should there be?”

  Lazar noticed the Zar gave him no eye contact, was busying himself picking up his sleeping roll. “You seem a little out of sorts, Majesty.”

  “Do I?” Boaz asked, fixing him with an imperial gaze.

  “You slept well?”

  “I got more sleep than you, Lazar,” Boaz fired back. There was none of the usual amusement in his tone.

  “I hope you understood that I was with that woman because I was given no choice. It was expected.”

  “Yes, I worked that out for myself.”

  “But you’re upset about it?”

  “No, Lazar, you’re the one who thinks I’m upset. I feel perfectly calm.”

  “Forgive me, Highness. It’s just that you don’t seem nearly as happy as you were yesterday.’

  “Perhaps the gravity of our journey and what must be achieved has fully registered with me,” Boaz said. Still Lazar detected a note in his Zar’s voice that he had never before heard.

  “Fair enough,” he said. He would have to work out the hard way what was prompting this suddenly odd behavior in the Zar. “I shall meet you at the camels.”

  As Lazar walked toward the beasts he could see an argument in full swing between Salim and his daughter. He wished he could avoid being pulled into it, but he could see they were both waiting for him to arrive. Salim shrugged helplessly, embarrassed, as the Spur drew close to them.

  “Lazar!” Ganya began, her eyes filled with anger. “I’ve told my father that I will be joining this caravan and that–”

  “No, Ganya, you will not,” Lazar interrupted. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “But last night–”

  “Last night was last night. I will not risk your life. I explained that.”

  “It is my life to risk!”

  “Risk it somewhere else, Ganya. Right now you are too precious to your people for me to allow you to come.”

  She looked at him, the hurt in her expression obvious. But the fight went out of her stance and he could see that she had heard the tenderness in his voice.

  “My love,” her father began. “What we do is more than dangerous. It’s suicide.” He gave a short, humorless laugh.

  “And yet you and Lazar press ahead!”

  “Lazar must find this woman who belongs to his Zar. I must find your brother. You have nothing to find.”

  “Father, this should be my decision, not yours. And not his,” Ganya argued, pointing at Lazar.

  “Is there a problem?” Maliz’s voice broke into the debate.

  Once again Lazar was irritated by the manner in which the demon crept up on him. “Just a difference of opinion,” Lazar said, hoping the Grand Vizier would move on.

  “Oh? Can I help?”

  “I don’t think so,” Lazar replied, glancing across the sand toward Boaz, hoping the Zar would understand the look for help and find a way to distract his Grand Vizier without it appearing odd. Instead, Boaz looked away, moving toward his camel.

  “Yes, you can help,” Ganya began breathlessly, ignoring Lazar as well. “Lazar, translate this or I will somehow communicate to him–and your younger friend, fiddling with his camel’s straps–that you raped me. Somehow I sense you would mind the boy knowing this, no?”

  Lazar stared at her incredulous. “You cannot mean that. No one would believe you.”

  “And you could lie in the translation anyway,” she said.

  Their gazes locked, each of them neither angry at nor amused by the other. The standoff lengthened.

  “You know I can help you with your friend,” Ganya pressed, careful not to mention the owl or his name. “You both need protection. And your cause is more important than any of us.”

  Lazar nodded, although his expression told her he didn’t fully agree with her final statement.

  “Spur, I really must insist you explain what’s happening,” the Grand Vizier said, his exasperation spilling over.

  “Tell the Vizier what I say,” Ganya urged. “And trust me as I now trust you.”

  Lazar was hopelessly cornered and could see he would get no help from Salim, who was gently shaking his head.

  She began, looking at the Grand Vizier. “Tell this man that I am not allowing my father to walk into danger without receiving all the right help we can possibly give him.”

  Lazar reluctantly turned to the Grand Vizier and gave a quick version of what Ganya expressed.

  “Ask her to explain that, please,” Maliz asked, more politely now.

  “What did he say?” Ganya demanded, and Lazar translated through gritted teeth. She nodded. “Tell him I am this tribe’s lajka and my father is the elder of our desert people and we are risking his life for the benefit of your Zar’s wife.”

  “This man has no authority out here,” Lazar said to her.

  “Tell him all the same. Let him think that I consider him important.”

  Lazar did so and the Grand Vizier nodded. “I understand. How can we further minimize danger, then?” He glared at Lazar, who, frustrated, continued to act as interpreter.

  After listening, Ganya replied, “By allowing me to join this party!”

  Maliz heard her demand through Lazar and to his credit looked thoughtful. “Forgive me, but last night you danced for and lay with the Spur. I don’t see how your presence adds anything more than…er, shall we say entertainment for him.” />
  Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the Grand Vizier. “That may be, sir, but do you know what being a lajka means?”

  Maliz shrugged at the question when Lazar posed it. “A fortune-teller, isn’t it?”

  Lazar told her the Grand Vizier’s response. Father and Spur looked down as Ganya straightened, her expression instantly indignant. “It seems you need enlightening, sir. A lajka is a seer. A tribe is fortunate to find one of their own with the sight.”

  “Forgive me,” Maliz said, a new respect in his tone that Lazar communicated. “Make sure she understands,” he said to the Spur, before adding for her benefit, “I am indeed ignorant. And have you seen something?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning a fresh glare on Lazar. He could see where Ganya was taking this, and much as he didn’t want another life to defend, especially one so precious as this one, he also knew this woman was likely the only real protection that he and Pez had against the demon.

  “Last night as I ‘lay’ with the Spur,” she began, loading the word with the same derision the Grand Vizier had, “I saw the way forward for you.”

  “What?” This had Maliz’s attention. “What does she mean, Lazar?”

  “I believe she’s about to explain,” Lazar replied.

  She nodded. The man’s reaction needed no interpretation. “Ask your Spur; it’s easier than asking my father.”

  The Grand Vizier’s gaze moved between the two men. “What does she mean?” he demanded.

  Boaz sidled up to join the small group.

  Lazar sighed. “She means that last night, in touching me, she could ‘connect,’ for want of a better word, with our mission. She knows what we seek and she can sense the direction we need to follow.”

  “But don’t you know where we are going?”

  “I know only that Ana was stolen and taken in a westerly direction,” Lazar lied. Ganya was right. Warming to his task, he decided that if Salim was comfortable with Ganya’s risk, then who was he to tell her how to live her life.

  “And she knows differently?” Maliz queried.

  Lazar nodded. “I’m slightly in awe of her, in fact. She gave me very clear directions for us to follow.”

  “She sees this?” Maliz spluttered, unable to hide his incredulity. “What sort of magic is this, Lazar? Do you expect us to believe it? Or is this some excuse you and she have cooked up so that you can have a warm body next to you during the cold desert nights?”

  “Garjan.” Boaz spoke up. “It is fortunate that these people do not understand us entirely, although I wouldn’t hesitate to admonish you in front of them, whether it gave away our secret or not. Do not ever again let me hear you speak with such disdain to my Spur. He is my chosen guide and leader. In him I place all my faith. I place my life. You can neither protect me, fight for me, nor guide me to my wife. Lazar can. I demand that you show him respect.” He said this all in a friendly way, taking such a subordinate tone that Lazar felt a whole new surge of admiration for his Zar. The young man was a born politician. If Joreb could see him now, he would smile from his tomb.

  Boaz didn’t wait for his Grand Vizier to respond. He turned directly to Lazar. “Can she help us find Ana?”

  “Yes. But she is one more mouth to feed, one more life to protect.”

  “Then don’t protect it,” Boaz said more heartlessly than Lazar thought he was capable of. Neverthless the Spur kept his expression impassive as the Zar continued. “Tell her she is welcome to come with us and we will pay her people handsomely for the use of her skills. I presume you will have the dubious chore of a nightly meeting with her, Lazar, and you have my permission for that and the privacy it would require. As long as she takes us closer each day to the Zaradine, she can have whatever she wants. Come with me, Garjan.”

  “Thank you,” Lazar replied softly, angered by Boaz’s lack of care for Ganya, but still impressed that he’d managed to say all that he did without his tone ever changing from one of respect to his Spur. He ignored the Grand Vizier’s scowl and turned to the patient Khalid pair. “We have discussed the matter, and if you insist on coming along, it must be your decision alone. I can offer no special protection.”

  “I didn’t ask for it,” Ganya replied curtly, flouncing away to fetch her few belongings.

  Salim looked wryly at the Spur. “It seems my daughter is more fond of you than she cares to admit.”

  “Salim, I cannot–”

  “I know. I will talk to her. But she will insist on accompanying us. I know that look. Her mother taught her well.”

  Lazar twitched a grin. “She can see, that’s the thing. I won’t refuse her help.”

  “Then we give it gladly. It means we get closer to her brother with each day. But, Lazar, don’t hurt her. She is lajka, yes, but first she is a beloved daughter of mine.”

  Lazar nodded. “I didn’t tell my people the whole truth. Ganya and I do not need to…well, you know,” he said, shrugging. “She only needs to hold my hand or touch a shoulder to use her powers.”

  Salim laughed. “That won’t stop her, Spur. She has chosen her place in the sand. Now she intends to lie in it.”

  “I know,” Lazar admitted, embarrassed, “I just wanted to assure you that I won’t–”

  “You miss my point, Spur,” the Khalid said, still amused. “I would be more disappointed if you didn’t. This is what she wants. So long as you are honest with her–I am her father, I want her happy. If being close to you keeps her happy and she can help me find my boy, then the winds are calm–as we say in the desert.”

  “Your winds may be calm, Salim. Mine are blowing hard.”

  The Khalid chuckled. “The boy seems to speak his mind,” he said casually, nodding toward Boaz.

  “He is young, brash. Wanted to know what we were arguing about and then had the nerve to say his piece. He’s lucky he didn’t get a cuff around the ear for it,” Lazar answered, moving toward his own camel.

  Salim fell into step with him. “And yet you seemed attentive to his words, nonetheless.”

  Lazar gave his friend a sideways glance.

  “I know, Spur. Shut up, Salim, and just trust you…and I do.” This time the Khalid strode ahead, throwing a rueful glance back at his companion before he began barking orders to his people.

  20

  Word had come back from the Galiseans but it was not as Herezah had anticipated.

  “They said what?” she demanded.

  Bin swallowed. “Crown Valide, it is difficult for us to comprehend precisely what the Galinseans are communicating. You understand that we are working through interpreters on both sides.”

  “Don’t be fooled, Bin. King Falza, I’m assured, speaks Percherese, no matter how haltingly he might convey it. He is toying with us if he wants us to believe he needs to speak through vague translation. Don’t believe it. Tell me again what was said.”

  “The messenger reports this message, Crown Valide: King Falza will meet with the Crown Valide of Percheron via another party. They wish this meeting to take place within the Stone Palace complex. I am taking our own interpretation now, Crown Valide, when I say that they understand that you may prefer not to have a Galinsean war delegation in the palace proper. Thus the King has agreed for the parley to occur on the Daramo River aboard barges.”

  “Aboard barges? He dares to tell us where and when and how?”

  Bin looked nervous but remained steadfast. “Crown Valide, I’m not sure we’re in a position to argue. It appears to me that the Galinseans are paying you quiet respect.”

  “Does it indeed?” she snarled, but his rationale caught her attention, impressed her with its insight. “Well, you’re right in one respect: I don’t have a choice. Set it up for tomorrow. The furthest point of the river, mind,” she warned. “Is he sending this party alone?”

  “An emissary–if we may call this person by such a title–plus one servant. You are permitted the same.”

  “I am permitted?” she repeated.

  Bin stared at her
, wide-eyed. “I am telling you only what has been communicated, Crown Valide. I would send many Elim if it were up to me. But you will be strong, Crown Valide, and the people of Percheron trust you to represent them with courage.”

  Bin’s words appeased Herezah. He was right. She would show fortitude and she would not feel threatened but would instead be courteous and magnanimous in her dealings with the barbarians. “Fine. Set it up. Advise everyone you need to. Tell Elza and anyone else who needs to get me ready. And send for Salmeo but don’t show him in immediately. Let him cool his heels outside until I’m ready to see him.”

  “Yes, Crown Valide, as you wish.”

  “Oh, and Bin?”

  “Yes, Crown Valide?”

  “Do we have a name for this party?”

  “Yes,” he said, and Herezah noticed his trepidation.

  “Well? Don’t stand there gawping at me, boy. What is his name?”

  Bin took a breath. “It is a she, Crown Valide. Her name is Angeline.”

  It was Herezah’s turn to suck in a breath. She swung around, momentarily speechless. Her voice finally pushed through the shock. “The Queen?” she asked, fright layering over her initial astonishment as her dream came back to haunt her.

  Bin nodded. “So I am told, Crown Valide.”

  The smell of violets accompanied the swish of silks as Salmeo swept into her salon. He bowed, but only slightly, unable to pay the same kind of homage he was forced to give the Zar to a woman he saw at best as his equal, at worst as the most important slave of his harem. Although, if the Zaradine were alive, Herezah would be relegated to only second most important. This thought pleased him as he straightened.

  “I thought it was urgent when you called for me, Valide.”

  “Did you? I lose track of time in this new role, Salmeo, but I have ordered some refreshment if that will console you.”

  He noticed the slight sneer and the lack of apology for keeping him waiting for nearly a bell’s length. “And please call me Crown Valide. It is my proper title, as desired by the Zar. We must respect him in this,” she said, her tone not quite hiding its sardonic edge.