The woman wore an uncomplicated robe, almost sheath-like in its airy, lightly woven texture. No silks or rich colors for her. She was a picture of simple elegance in the palest of silver gray, a color that matched her once golden, now softly silvered hair. As she drew closer still Herezah could see that the gown also matched her intensely light eyes, which were so gray they were startling. Lazar had indeed inherited his famous light-colored eyes from his mother. In fact, the startling likeness that this woman had to Lazar took Herezah’s breath away. The set of their mouths, that penetrating gaze, the very stature of this woman screamed that she had birthed Prince Lucien of Galinsea. It was hard to tell her age. Perhaps heading into her seventh decade if Herezah was harsh–but looking at the woman’s hands and relatively unlined face, she was more likely in the early summers of her sixth decade.
Herezah tore her gaze from the beautiful woman and forced herself, against all her inclinations, to bow with every ounce of grace she could muster from all those years of training. “Queen Angeline,” she said as smoothly as she could in the little Galinsean she knew, “you are most humbly welcomed.”
“Thank you, Crown Valide. But let us speak Percherese–you may find it more comfortable.”
Herezah felt her stomach clench. Was that condescension or was she being paranoid? She straightened, looked the Queen directly in her light eyes, noticing at the same time that Angeline had not so much as dipped her head to her. The Galinsean did not see Herezah as even close to her equal. Herezah’s paranoia deepened. Was that a disdainful look the Queen was giving her? She switched from her halting, quaint Galinsean to Percherese. “Of course, thank you. I was not sure whether you were familiar with our language, Queen Angeline.”
Herezah saw the faintest of smiles touch the Queen’s lips. “Did Lucien not mention that Galinsean royalty know all of their neighbors’ languages? And call me Majesty, it’s easier, isn’t it?”
Herezah had to look briefly away for fear of revealing the fury that was rising swiftly through her. Such arrogance! It was very easy to see whose mother this was. “Er, Salmeo, perhaps you could aid our royal guest?” she suggested, for want of something to say that diverted her from the Queen’s question.
Angeline replied directly to Salmeo. “That’s all right, eunuch. My companion here will assist. Luto?”
The man dipped a short bow before offering a thickly muscled arm to his queen, helping her with care to step across the small bridge onto the royal barge. Herezah watched Salmeo bow graciously as the Galinsean royal boarded, sneering inwardly that he did so without any of the usual struggle.
“Perhaps you’d care to join me under the awning, Majesty? We’ve set up some chairs and your servant can stand in the shade over there?”
The Queen nodded. “Luto will stand in the shade, but beside us, if that is no problem for you?”
Herezah held the steely gaze momentarily before glancing at the stocky Luto and acquiescing. “Of course. Whatever pleases you.” She watched the man show his queen to one of the chairs before moving back just a few steps to stand, his arms crossed beside her. “You certainly remind me of our Spur, Queen Angeline. I can see from where he takes his handsome looks.”
Angeline considered her with a mild, almost disintersted gaze, ignoring the compliment. “I have received word that my son is not in Percheron. And the only thing that assures me that this is no ruse is that I received that information in a letter written in his own hand.”
Herezah was shocked by the confrontational nature of the Queen’s inquiry. “Majesty, it is no ruse. Your son, Lucien—Lazar, as he is known to the Percherese–has accompanied my son, Zar Boaz, into the desert to find Zaradine Ana. Lazar alone knew how to find the impostor or he would be here now.”
At this the Queen smiled genuinely but without warmth. “I doubt it. Lucien, it seems, will go to any length to avoid his mother. I know you Percherese think the Galinsean race is barbaric, not especially kind to women. You’d be surprised by how much power we wield in our own homes.”
Herezah wasn’t sure how to respond. She had no desire to get involved in any Galinsean royal-family squabble, nor did she understand what had happened to divide mother and son. But she had to remain focused on Boaz’s desires for Percheron. “I can see that by the fact that King Falza is comfortable to send you in his stead. He obviously respects you enormously, Queen Angeline. The main point, Your Majesty, is that your son is alive and he is well. I can assure you of this, and your own dignatories would have done the same, I trust. He suffered a small setback when he was trying to cross the desert to Romea, of course–”
“Yes, I heard he was leading your emissary’s party to Galinsea. We are quite intrigued to meet this young woman who seems to have everyone in a stir, including your son.”
It was as if Angeline knew all of her personal weaknesses. Herezah reined in her anguish. “She is a remarkable person, yes. Very beautiful, immensely intelligent, too.” If only Ana could hear her, she wondered privately.
“A rare combination…as you and I would both know,” the Queen replied, and Herezah accepted the compliment even though it was said almost disdainfully.
“Indeed, Majesty. Ana has certainly captivated the Zar.”
“And has she won through the stone heart of my son, or am I imagining things?”
Herezah caught her breath. “Queen Angeline, what could you mean by that?”
“I don’t speak in riddles, Crown Valide–I always say what I mean. And I know my Percherese is fluent enough. Let me say it like this: is my son in love with this girl?”
Herezah was momentarily speechless. She opened her mouth to say something and then closed it.
“Ah, my question is too direct, then? I wonder why it should offend.”
“No, er, Majesty, I’m not offended–more astonished that you would ask such a thing. This young woman is, after all, a Zaradine. My son’s wife. My son’s Absolute Favorite. To covet a Zar’s wife, let alone the Zaradine, is treachery.” Herezah spoke Ana’s title with as much weight as she could.
“That’s meaningless to me, Crown Valide–we are but ignorant Galinseans.” Angeline’s last two words were loaded with irony. “I can’t imagine why my son, who has not only snubbed his right to the Galinsean throne but has steadfastly ignored his realm, and furthermore allowed us to believe him lost to us for almost two decades, would suddenly rush across the desert to reach Romea.”
Herezah’s tone was icy when she replied. “He put Percheron before any personal prejudice, I imagine, Majesty.”
“And does that not sound stupid to your own ears, Crown Valide?” the silver-haired Queen demanded.
Herezah actually gasped, stung by the woman’s words. “Stupid? No, I do not consider him stupid, Queen Angeline. I consider him only truthful. The fact that your crown prince chose Percheron as his realm over his own is something you should take up with him, not his adopted people. Here he has found only respect and affection. Lazar is revered by those who know him. He is loved.”
“Yes, indeed. That’s my very point, Crown Valide,” the Queen replied, entirely unmoved by Herezah’s admonishment. “My question is about love. Does he love this girl?”
This time the breath caught in her throat but Herezah fought the choking sensation and forced out an answer. “No, Queen Angeline, I do not believe so,” she lied, wishing she could have faith in her words.
“Let me assure you that Lucien’s veins may run with Galinsean blood, but his soul is Merlinean. And we Merlineans never forgive. Never. He would not have traveled toward Romea on any account–not even for his adopted Percheron, I’d wager–unless, of course, this girl is very, very special. Lucien the young man was vulnerable through his heart. I have no reason to believe as an older man he would be any different.”
Herezah had managed to recover sufficiently to answer with a firm tone. “To be honest, I have never seen any evidence in the near two decades I’ve known your son that he is vulnerable to anything or anyone. Lazar h
as no longtime partners and is not engaged in any meaningful relationship, to my knowledge. He belongs to no one. He is an island. As for Ana…well, Ana is certainly special to the Percherese Crown, Majesty. She carries my grandson in her womb. She carries an heir to the throne of Percheron and if I read my son correctly, I would say she carries the next Zar in her belly. Lazar knew what was at stake for all of us and I believe he felt some guilt, you might say, for being the cause of potential trouble between our realms. And he alone knew how to get us to Romea the fastest way across the desert.”
“Us?” the Queen asked, seemingly ignoring Herezah’s impassioned speech.
“I was on that journey, Your Majesty. I was set upon by the impostor that our two sons now hunt. I am a mother to a king,” she said, deliberately stripping her voice of any rancor. “And you are the mother to a king-in-waiting, whether or not he renounces his throne. Your son is royal. We are both creatures of the same cloth–although we wear it differently.”
Angeline actually laughed. “Golesh!” she said, and at Herezah’s frown, she translated. “It means congratulations, Crown Valide, or, more to the matter, that you have scored your point. It is a compliment I give you, although royal sons or not, you are not a queen but, more accurately, a king’s mother.”
Herezah took a moment to calm her fury but refused to be baited. Either this woman was deliberately trying to provoke her or Angeline was simply too impressed with her own power, her own status, to care how she sounded or whom she offended. Herezah glanced toward Salmeo and nodded. “Can I offer you a cool drink, Highness? I have our finest sweet wine on board.”
“That would be acceptable,” the Queen replied, nodding once.
“Thank you, Salmeo,” Herezah uttered softly through near-gritted teeth.
“And so,” Angeline began, picking up the threads of their original conversation, “my son is in good health, you say?”
“As I began to explain, he suffered after the desert trip. An old illness brought about by a poisoning attempt sometime before.”
The woman’s eyebrows arched. “And I understood from Lucien’s friend Jumo that this threat likely came from within the palace.”
“The man who confessed was duly executed hours after he admitted to the attempt on Lazar’s life. Fortunately your son is strong, both mentally and physically. And with good care he returned to health. Unfortunately, the debilitating poison remains in his body, it seems, and can still affect him. His exertions in the desert made him weak. But we have nursed him back to good health and I am confident he will remain well.”
“And so I hear he chose to save you over the Zaradine. Is that not odd?”
“Why, Majesty?”
“Well, she is the Zar’s wife. She carries his heir. Presumably, she is more important than a mere Valide.”
They had been making small headway but now Herezah openly bristled. “I’m not sure you fully comprehend how the Percherese hierarchy works, Majesty. The Zar takes many wives–dozens, if he chooses to–but he has only one Valide. She is precious for her singularity.” Herezah worked hard to keep any smugness from her face.
“And how many wives does your son have, Valide?”
It was not lost on Herezah that the Queen had just dropped the royal part of her title. She fumed inwardly, though outwardly she held herself upright and kept her expression bland. Joreb’s voice rang in her mind, urging her to remain steady, to not allow her personal feelings to sway her ability to broker a peace. Her voice was mercifully steady when it came. “One.”
“Just the one?” The Queen shrugged. “So, in fact, Zaradine Ana had no rival and thus holds equal importance to the mother of the Zar, both of you being singular in your respective roles.”
Herezah blinked slowly. “I suppose you could view it that way.”
“And the fact that she carries an heir–the next Zar, in fact–in her belly possibly gives her just a little more importance…a little more weight to her status?”
“I don’t–”
The Queen made a noise of disdain as though she had tired of the point. “It is irrelevant anyway, Valide. Lucien chose to save you for his own reasons and you have nursed him back to health and now he’s making amends for saving you over the Zaradine and is out in the Empty somewhere hunting down the impostor.”
“That is right, Majesty.”
The Queen shrugged lightly again. “Then we are on the same side. I cannot condone the behavior of this Arafanz simply because Galinsea and Percheron have a traditional enmity. The fact is, we are both royal families and we cannot let some upstart renegade threaten either realm. In this we must stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder. If we can help with his destruction, we will.”
Herezah felt her churning insides go still with relief. This offer of working together was a revelation given their realms’ long and bitter history. Her hopes soared. She even gave a tentative smile. “Our thoughts precisely, Majesty. I trust you’ll forgive that your son is not here to present himself to you, to prove that he remains in Percheron of his own free will. I don’t want you to think that the Crown of Percheron ordered his death. Far from it. Zar Boaz loves Lazar as a brother.”
“Where is Jumo?”
“He is dead, Highness. He died in the desert.”
“Ah, pity. It never sat comfortably with me that we feigned an inability to speak Percherese. We made it very difficult for him to make himself understood. It bought us time, however, to send our emissaries to find out just what had happened in Percheron.”
“Yes, Masters Lorto and Belzo.”
“Indeed. Neither actually spoke much Percherese, as I’m sure you discovered. But it gave us all the time we needed. What Jumo never did explain, however, was why my son was being flogged at the behest of the Zar, whom you claim considers himself a brother to Lucien.”
Herezah felt the snakes inside her stomach twitch again. She didn’t want to have to explain to the queen that once again Lazar’s decision had been connected to Ana. Her mind raced as to what else she might say but she knew she was ensnared in her own web–she could not risk dishonesty at this delicate stage. She took a moment to gather herself as Salmeo unobtrusively laid out two golden goblets, dripping with the icy water that had been used to chill the wine. He withdrew silently, just a waft of violets reminding Herezah that he was even present.
“Perhaps Master Luto would care to sip your wine first, Majesty?” Herezah knew it was the courteous offer to make, whether the Galinsean Queen felt herself threat-free or not.
“That won’t be necessary,” Angeline replied. She reached forward but surprised Herezah by picking up the goblet that Salmeo had placed before the Crown Valide. “This is a much better test,” she said, smiling humorlessly before sipping. “Your turn, Valide. You may now drink from the other goblet.”
“Pardon me, Crown Valide,” Salmeo suddenly said softly in the pidgin Percherese of the harem, one of the oldest languages of the realm and known only to the members of the harem.
“Yes?” Herezah said, her tone brittle, irritated to be interrupted by the eunuch at such a fragile juncture.
“One of the Elim has just gestured to me from the riverbank. It looks urgent. I’d better find out what it is. They wouldn’t interrupt us unless it was very important.”
She couldn’t see the Elim he spoke of, of course, but they were meant to be hidden, so she agreed. She couldn’t imagine what could force the Elim to butt into these delicate negotiations, though. Perhaps word from Boaz? “Hurry,” she said, frowning.
“Is something wrong?” Angeline inquired.
“Forgive us, Majesty. Salmeo speaks only the harem language,” Herezah lied. “He has been called ashore. We believe it may be an urgent message from the Zar or perhaps your son. My apologies. As you can see, Salmeo is already hurrying across the riverbank.” Herezah followed the Queen’s gaze and was impressed as well as puzzled to see the speed at which Salmeo was moving his immense bulk away from them toward the palace.
&
nbsp; “Hmm. And leaves you alone. Do you feel vulnerable, Crown Valide, or does this riverbank possess many dozens of eyes that make you feel safe?”
“I’m sure neither of us came to this meeting today with anything other than peace on our minds, Highness. Whoever may be watching us will not risk that potential peace. I have no idea who may be hiding, but like your people, I imagine the palace has organized a close watch. I’m sure you expected as much?”
“I’m sure I did,” Angeline said, sipping her wine again. “This is an interesting wine, perhaps a little bitter in its aftertaste.”
“Bitter?” Herezah frowned. “It is my favorite,” she added, a little surprised, and took a large sip. She recalled expressly asking Salmeo to water her drink, and if anything, her wine was especially luscious and rich, which meant that even watered down the Queen’s wine should be delicious. The Galinseans must drink pure syrup if Queen Angeline found the sweetness to be lacking.
“Of no matter. It is nicely chilled and I am enjoying it on this warm day,” the Queen replied, sipping again.
“Queen Angeline,” Herezah began in earnest now, placing her goblet back on the table between them, “may we discuss the Galinsean fleet’s presence so close to Percheron. It is our understanding that the fleet is here because you might have believed us insincere in our intention to send our own emissary as arranged.”
Angeline said nothing. She drained the contents of the goblet as though indifferent to anything the Crown Valide had said.
Nevertheless, Herezah took her silence to be an agreement. She continued: “I hope that Lazar’s letter to you explained the full extent of our trauma in the desert and why the journey to present ourselves had to be aborted? Not only was our entire Elim guard massacred but the Zaradine–the very emissary you awaited–was abducted by this madman.” She noticed Angeline flinch and look away from her, which seemed odd. Herezah glanced briefly at Luto, who had not seemed to notice anything strange, and was giving Herezah his full scrutiny. She refused to let it threaten her. “Zar Boaz is determined to cooperate with you in any way that he can. We are not a warlike people; we have no wish to engage in any conflict with our neighbors. With your son alive and clearly in Percheron because he chooses to be, Majesty, I’m charged by the Crown to ask you how we can appease any offense that might have been mistakenly given by Lazar’s manservant Jumo. At the time he told you of Lazar’s death, Jumo was not fully informed of all the circumstances. The secrecy surrounding Lazar’s survival from the poisoning was for his own protection and was masterminded by a priestess of Lyana’s sisterhood. She feared for his life, understandably, and took it upon herself to secret him away to an island where she kept him until he healed–seemingly against his own knowledge for he was too frail, his mind too befuddled by the poison, for her to let anyone know that he lived. She saved his life, of this we are sure, but her secrecy has endangered all of us. From the Zar down to the lowliest palace servant, Majesty, we all believed Lazar dead and grieved over it. I fully comprehend your wrath. As a parent–especially as a mother–I can understand your need to avenge what must have sounded like a senseless death. But now that we’ve…” Herezah trailed off, shocked, as the Queen suddenly began to moan, struggling for breath in great groaning gasps.
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