A servant arrived with a tray and quickly laid out a jug with cups as Salmeo reined in his fury that had been stoked through the long wait in the corridor, his own Elim staring balefully at him and even the wretched Bin showing no apology in that impassive expression of his. “My apologies, Crown Valide–I shall certainly adhere to your wishes, although I would respectfully caution that we mustn’t get too used to the royal title. After all, your son will be gone only weeks and then it’s sadly back to the harem for you and for Ana.”
“If she’s alive,” Herezah commented, unfazed by his words of caution.
“Indeed. But you are alive, Crown Valide, and I would hate for you to feel any more unsettled than you already have since returning from the desert.”
“It’s my welfare that you care about–is that what you’re saying, Salmeo?” she queried, laughing.
He hated her calling him by his name, rather than by his title. Salmeo wasn’t even his real name. His real name–Yokabi–meant “chieftain”…“king!”…“power!” Salmeo had been forced upon him by the slavers when he had refused to reveal his true name, given to him by his father, branded on his mother’s back as proof that she had birthed a new king. He let none of these angry thoughts show on his well-arranged, calm expression.
“Crown Valide, I hope you will never question our longstanding relationship. We have known each for too many years.” Salmeo could see by the way her eyebrows arched that Herezah understood precisely what his couched warning meant. But she clearly wanted him to say it in raw words.
“Are you threatening me, eunuch?”
“Threaten? Me, Crown Valide?” he asked, feigning injury. “Absolutely not. I am simply reiterating my loyalty to you. I will keep to myself what has passed between us certainly these past sixteen or seventeen moons, and I hope you will do me the same courtesy.” He giggled softly. “We are, after all, a sister and brother of the harem. It is a world separate from the palace–we have our own rules, Crown Valide, our own ways.”
“We must protect each other. Is that what you mean?”
“Precisely, Crown Valide. I’m glad we understand each other,” he lisped, satisfied.
“I may understand you, eunuch, but you have to realize that my loyalties are being guided–no, demanded–in a new direction. I am now directly responsible for the security and well-being of our realm. I am, to all intents and purposes, a queen, and I must act as autonomously as that role requires. I cannot be limited or swayed by the needs of the harem. I have moved beyond its boundaries.”
“For now, Crown Valide,” he counseled carefully. “Soon you will be back within its confines–and then what?”
“Well, Salmeo, I’m not sure it has to play out that way ultimately. I have plans, you see?” No, he didn’t see, but he understood. “Right now I’m not at liberty to discuss those plans with you because they involve Crown business, and whilst my life must now revolve around the Crown, Grand Master Eunuch, yours unfortunately revolves entirely around a group of slave girls who are learning how to sexually satisfy my son.”
He understood so well, in fact, that in the few moments whilst she spoke, gazing at him over the top of her veil with eyes that smiled savagely, Salmeo made his decision. For far too long had he kowtowed to this woman–this cunning, disloyal whore who wasn’t worthy to stare at his feet, let alone stare into his eyes with such loathing. He was unacceptably vulnerable to her–and Salmeo knew the Zar would welcome any excuse he could legitimately use to rid the palace of the present Grand Master Eunuch. No. There would be no waiting for Herezah to make her move. It seemed more radical measures would need to be taken…and swiftly.
“Pardon? My apologies, Crown Valide,” he said evenly.
“I asked if you were paying attention to me?” Herezah demanded.
“Forgive me, I felt momentarily light-headed. The heat, you know, and the long wait. May I take a drink?”
“Of course,” Herezah replied, leaning back against her chair, which was beautifully wrought and gilded with gold, as she watched him struggle forward against his own bulk to pour himself a cup of grape cordial, its cloying sweetness cut with lemon juice and chilled water.
It was an excuse, of course–a play for time–but he nevertheless welcomed the refreshment of the drink as it slid down his throat.
“Better?” she asked, clearly uncaring of whether he was feeling any brighter.
“Much,” he lied.
“I was just telling you that tomorrow we are expecting an official visit from the Galinseans.”
Salmeo smiled. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Apparently King Falza is sending his own emissary for a parley.”
Salmeo didn’t reply but pasted a quizzical expression onto his face to give the impression that he was, at least, vaguely interested. But to his mind the parley was evidence enough that the Galinsean patience had worn thin. “And how can I assist you, Crown Valide?”
“I need someone we trust more than any other to be my guard and servant. I am permitted only one person. It will be Elim, of course, as he’ll need to guide the barge.”
“One of the Mutes, perhaps?”
“Salmeo, I don’t care who listens in on this. I’m fighting for our lives and I’m past being secretive about what might be said in royal company. I want you to select your best man. Strongest, most fearless.”
“All Elim are strong and fearless, Crown Valide.”
“Does that include you, Salmeo?” she asked in a biting tone.
“I am not Elim, Crown Valide.”
“Well, I choose you anyway.”
“Me?” He was taken by surprise but his smile was entirely genuine when it stretched across his mouth.
“I hope your size doesn’t preclude you from being able to steer me to my destination aboard the royal barge, Salmeo.”
Again he allowed her viciousness to slide past him as though he hardly heard her taunts. His tongue unconsciously flicked between the large gap in his front teeth. “It would be an honor to be at your side, Crown Valide.”
“Good. Not that you have any choice in the matter, Salmeo. But I’m not asking you to accompany me because I need companionship, because I enjoy your presence, or out of any misplaced sense of friendship between harem members, eunuch. I want your slippery, cunning mind listening in and advising. We can use Percherese, and the Queen will struggle to follow when we speak quietly and quickly between ourselves.”
She was extraordinarily misguided in thinking this was the way to repay his years of confidentiality. All of a sudden she viewed herself as a queen–feeling secure as a royal on her new throne–insulting him and baiting him in one breath whilst begging for his help with the next and expecting it to be given. He was not befuddled by her superior attitude, nor was he intimidated by her deliberate discourtesy; instead Salmeo could plainly see that Herezah was unnerved by Falza’s move and suddenly needed the sort of help only the Grand Master Eunuch could provide. Except he’d run out of patience with this harem whore. He might even have helped her to escape had she taken a different attitude toward him. But now he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to arrive. “I understand, Crown Valide,” he said, arching his fingers. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to send one of the Elim with details of where you want me to be and when.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. Expect my runner, Salmeo. That will be all.” She looked at Bin for him to follow. Herezah stood briskly and departed her salon for her personal chamber before the Grand Master Eunuch could even struggle to his feet and effect a bow.
Salmeo smiled and recalled something his father had said to him many years ago in an effort to soothe the youngster over their capture by the slavers. He remembered his father, manacled, chained, for all intents and purposes humbled; and yet in his eyes a fire burned when he spoke to his son and said: “The lion does not turn around when a small dog barks. You are that lion, Yokabi, while your slavers and those who will compel you, claiming superiority over you, are merely the dogs. Never forget that.
”
He had not forgotten it and he would not ignore that advice now.
They had been traveling for almost the whole day, and as much as Boaz was thrilled to be away from the stifling atmosphere of the palace and in a world he barely knew existed, the novelty of the desert was already wearing thin. It was unspeakably hot–so arid that it sapped all desire to move–and if not for the ponderous but soothingly rhythmic progress of the camels, he would have wondered how any traders moved forward across this wilderness. He had already lost all sense of time, had been able to isolate his mind from everyone around him in this single day of mostly silent, slow travel. The hours in the saddle, the cocoon-like protection of the veil of his turban, and the turning inward that the desert naturally prompted had pushed him deeply into his own troubled thoughts.
According to Tariq, Zaradine Ana had cuckolded him–and apparently she’d managed to do this under the nose of the Valide. It sounded impossible, for his mother, in particular, would have been itching to find any fault with Ana. But Valide had not said a bad word about either the Zaradine or the Spur. And even if he accepted that Lazar was suddenly his mother’s favorite person, Ana would never be accorded that privilege. And how odd for Tariq to suddenly remember something so blatantly damning, especially at a time when it was obvious that the Grand Vizier’s dislike for the Spur had reared to the fore again. For a while it seemed that Tariq’s obsession with Lazar had quieted to the point of no longer being an issue. But it was back; and they were baiting each other again. Was Tariq making up this terrible story? But then Boaz was reminded of an old Percherese saying: if you can hear the river, the water is flowing, meaning no rumor or story was without some truth. So perhaps Tariq was not lying; perhaps the fright of their traumatic journey had caused him to temporarily forget what he saw that night in the desert. The deeper Boaz plowed into his private musings, the darker his thoughts became, the more silent and insular his world felt. Without Pez, and with Ana and Lazar’s treachery, he was truly alone. Joreb had always impressed upon Boaz that a Zar walks alone, no matter how many favorites and wives he might have, no matter how many sons and daughters. How right his father had been.
He looked up and saw Lazar directly ahead, striding alongside his camel, falcon on his arm. The two Khalid, Salim and his daughter, also walked beside their beasts. Boaz hadn’t been concentrating. He slipped off his camel, which managed to make him smile despite his mood, with what sounded like a grunt of thanks. Lazar heard it, too, and slowed slightly to let Boaz and his camel catch up.
“How are you feeling? A bit light-headed?” Lazar asked, concern in his tone.
Boaz shook his head free of his bitter thoughts. “Yes, er, I am, to tell the truth.”
Lazar nodded. “It’s normal. Don’t fight it. I can remember the first desert journey I undertook. I think I went mad for a while. It’s not the loneliness or the silence. It’s the heat and the dryness of the air. If you allow yourself to lose too much moisture, your mind starts to play tricks on you.” He reached for his saddlebag. “Here,” he said, dribbling some water into a smoothed bowl that Boaz had seen the Khalid use. Lazar’s movements were as fluid as the liquid nectar he was collecting in the bowl, without missing a step or losing a drop to the parched sand. “Drink regularly. We have plenty for the five of us and no one is more important than you.”
“Do you mean that?” Boaz asked, gratefully swallowing from the cunningly crafted lip of the bowl. He licked droplets of water from his lips so none could escape.
“Your importance, you mean?” asked Lazar. Boaz nodded. Lazar gave him a glance of query. “Of course I do.”
“It’s just that I thought the desert made all men equal.”
“All men, perhaps, Highness, not Zars,” Lazar said, winking.
Boaz didn’t smile but felt his heart ease slightly. He missed Lazar. Why was he thinking such dark thoughts about him? This man had been loyal to his father and was equally loyal to him. It was wrong to mistrust him.
“Have another bowl.”
“No, really, I feel quenched.”
“Only your mouth is telling you that. If you’re going to walk with me, you need more. Please, trust me.”
Boaz did as he was asked, relishing the cool liquid as it slid down his throat. “I don’t know how you ever managed that journey across the desert alone. You wouldn’t have been that much older than I am.”
Lazar chuckled softly, a sound Boaz knew was shared with few, if any. “I was driven by an urge I barely understood–one I still don’t.”
“What was it?”
“It was over a woman,” the Spur said. He sighed softly, stroking the falcon briefly. “And you’re the first person I’ve ever admitted that to.”
Boaz was intrigued. “What was her name?”
“She was called Shara and was a sweet, bright, gentle soul.”
“You loved her?”
“With all my heart. I would likely be king-in-waiting for Galinsea right now had we been together.”
The pause that followed Lazar’s admission felt so suddenly fragile that Boaz filled it with a lighthearted comment. “And no doubt eyeing Percheron as potential plunder.”
“Not at all. As soon as I laid eyes on Percheron, it owned me. I don’t believe, even as king-in-waiting, I would have felt any differently toward it. I know I would have worked toward our being friendly neighbors.”
“What happened?”
“To Shara?”
Boaz nodded. This was better than the dark silence. The heat was suddenly easier to bear.
“She died.”
“Oh, forgive me. An accident?”
“No,” Lazar answered quickly. His tone was final. “She just died. But she broke my heart and it has taken many years to mend.”
“Is that why you’ve never taken a wife?”
Lazar nodded slowly. “Yes. At first it would have felt like a betrayal and then I just got used to myself and being alone. I had Jumo for company. I didn’t want anything more for the last couple of decades.”
“But now you do?”
Lazar turned to him and Boaz saw a flash of something spark in the Spur’s eyes before he narrowed them. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my mother, of course!”
“Ah!” Lazar made a rueful sound, as though he hadn’t even considered Herezah. Boaz frowned as his Spur continued: “Your mother and I are not meant to be. That was a mistake. Nothing happened, in fact–”
“That’s not what she says.”
Lazar nodded. “I know. I think your mother would like to read into a situation something far more than what actually occurred.”
“So you are not lovers?” Boaz queried, astonishment rippling through him.
Lazar checked that they were not being overheard. “No, we are not. May I be candid, Majesty?”
“Please.”
“Your mother made an advance that I was not in a position to refuse. Or perhaps that’s unfair. I should have been more firm in my refusal but she had me cornered, Majesty, and without going into detail, it was a delicate situation. She had been so generous and kind that I was a little unprepared for her.”
“I see. She paints an entirely different picture.”
“I imagine she would. Let me confirm that I hold no feelings for the Crown Valide, other than deep appreciation for how she helped me back to better health and no little admiration for her courage in facing the Galinseans alone.”
“Then who did you think I meant just then, may I ask?”
Lazar looked back at him, bewildered. “Pardon, Majesty?”
“Just a moment ago. When I asked about whether now you feel ready to take on a woman, you seemed to react favorably to the suggestion.”
Lazar did not answer immediately. He cleared his throat before he finally replied. “No, Highness, that’s not what I meant. It’s not that I’m ready to take a woman into my life. All I was trying to explain–and perhaps I should never have revealed it–is that I’ve been very bl
inkered in my approach to women over the years. But since I’ve been sick and my own mortality has come into question, I realize that hankering after a lost love is a cold and pointless existence.”
“In this you are right. That’s why the Percherese encourage a man to enjoy many women, to take many wives.” Boaz saw Lazar bite back on whatever response was leaping to his lips.
“Indeed,” was all he said. “Do you feel any better for the water?”
“It’s amazing but yes, I do. You were right. I must take liquid at more regular intervals.”
“And then your mind won’t play tricks as I’ve warned. I was convinced I was being chased by the devil himself, I can recall. Another time when the heat and silence had gotten to me, I began to believe all sorts of nonsense about people I had liked, people who’d been generous to me my whole life.”
“Such as?” Boaz asked, his interest piqued.
Lazar shrugged. “I believed for a while that Shara died to spite me. I believed my parents hated me and I was sure my father was sending a party to hunt me down. My friends I suspected of treachery–these are people I had known all my life and who had been nothing if not the most loyal of companions.” He sighed. “I’m only telling you this because the desert can twist your mind if you aren’t strong, if you don’t take all the right precautions against its weapons.”
“And water is a good weapon?”
“It’s the most potent one in your arsenal. Here, keep this bowl. Drink on the move, every hour. I think we should get back into the saddles. We can do another few hours before sundown.”
Boaz nodded. “Lazar, what about Pez?”
Lazar looked gravely back at him. “Do you have any idea why he would not have come to the meeting point as arranged?”
“No idea at all. He told me he would be at your house, in fact.”
“He was,” Lazar said tonelessly. “It’s where I left him and he was counting the minutes almost to leaving.”
“Yes, he was eager.”
“Do you know why?” asked Lazar.
“He told me he was nervous about Tariq, of all people. He was keen to get out of Percheron and into the desert away from him.”
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