Are you sure?
Lazar stared at the owl, suddenly unnerved. What do you know?
Lazar, Iridor began plaintively, hesitantly.
Tell me! What are you hiding?
Ana is Boaz’s wife, Iridor said. You’ve already accepted this.
Well, thank you for reminding me of that critical piece of information, Lazar said, unable to hide his sarcasm. What is your point?
My point, Lazar, is that Ana does not belong to you. She never has!
A new voice entered their minds. But in his heart she does, Ganya said to Iridor. Ana has always been his.
They both flinched at her interruption, shocked that she could enter their private discussion.
Lazar felt light-headed. Her few gently spoken words drew a rush of emotion within him. It felt as though she were looking into his soul; he hated that she could hear his treacherous thoughts, see his beguilement written all over his troubled heart. We did not realize you could join us, he said.
Neither did I. But there is so much emotion emanating from you, Lazar, that it is not hard to follow. It is a beacon, guiding me into this private domain of Iridor’s magic that I protect with my own. Forgive me for speaking out of turn but Iridor continues to protect you from yourself, Lazar. He hides the truth through reluctance to hurt you.
What is she talking about? Lazar demanded of the owl.
You must tell him, Ganya urged.
The owl’s head swiveled and its grave countenance fell upon Ganya. Iridor’s voice sounded uncharacteristically cold when he replied. Then he will not like hearing that either she or the rebel, or both, have given their heart to the other. I saw Arafanz embracing Ana early this morning on the rooftop of the fortress.
Lazar felt his world spin. He allowed his thoughts to explode in accusation. You lie!
No. I am very sorry to say that I do not, Iridor replied sorrowfully. I have seen them together.
Then she is being forced against her will.
It did not appear that way to me, Lazar. Ana is a free spirit. As young as she was when we first met her, I believe she did love you. In your absence there is no doubting her fondness for Boaz. And now, with neither of you in her life, she has moved her affections to Arafanz. Whether he is coercing her is beside the point. You must understand that Ana does not struggle beneath his touch. I would be lying to you if I said she behaved in any other way than to “suffer” it happily.
Lazar broke their link, flinging Ganya’s hand away as he stood and stomped a few paces from them. He was breathing hard, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard.
We should leave him, Ganya said to Iridor. I—She sounded embarrassed. I can’t help but sense the personal war that goes on inside his heart.
He has loved her since the moment he clapped eyes on her but he denies it so much it is like a disease that consumes him. It festers and wounds.
I know. Perhaps Lazar is more comfortable with feeling wounded by the world and constantly angry at it.
Ganya, you have more insight than a hundred people twice your age.
She smiled at the owl. But we need him strong, do we not?
Indeed. The heir to the throne is in Ana’s belly. I don’t know what Lyana requires of us but I sense we must do our utmost to rescue the Zaradine and her child. Lazar alone has the ability to do so.
He’s that capable?
Ask your father.
The Spur is watching us, she said furtively.
That’s because he knows we are talking privately about him.
Lazar could sense that Iridor and Ganya were discussing his anger, but he didn’t care. Iridor’s news had ripped through his mind like a fiery arrow, igniting rage as it moved through him. But the resulting fury was burning with a cold flame now. All the heat had gone and what was left was pure and cold wrath.
He returned to his friends and grasped Ganya’s hand, instantly feeling the reconnection to Iridor in his mind. He knew Ganya would listen to all that they shared as though some sort of unspoken permission had been granted. It mattered not to him, and he began by addressing them both. Whatever Ana’s personal choices might be is irrelevant. I am charged by the Zar to do everything in my power to return the Zaradine and her child to the Stone Palace, whether she likes it or not. I am prepared to die in the effort to carry out my duty.
Naturally, Iridor said, a fraction disdainfully, and then added more softly with a sigh, Lazar, I had to warn you in case—
Don’t think on it again. I’m sure your eyes did not deceive you. Ana is young and emotionally vulnerable. In light of all she has faced in her time at the palace, we shouldn’t be surprised if she attaches herself to anyone who has a kind word for her. Arafanz clearly never had any intention of hurting her, and he is likely manipulating her emotions. His own words felt intensely hollow and it didn’t surprise him that neither Iridor nor Ganya gave him any response. He pressed on doggedly through their silence. All right, we face him tomorrow. I shall have to think on our approach. Salim and I alone will attempt to breach the fortress.
What about me? Iridor asked.
Lazar shook his head. You have done all that has been asked of you. You cannot do any more.
But this is my role.
Not to die.
Lazar, you must understand—
Not to die! he reiterated. You have suffered enough. You have guided us here. Now it is time for you to hide. We will not speak again until this is over and he is dead.
Lazar knew Iridor understood which “he” was meant. Arafanz was a dangerous distraction, but neither of them had lost sight of the true enemy who walked among them.
You must do nothing rash. Remember, Lazar, he cannot be killed by conventional means. Leave it to Lyana. They both heard and ignored Ganya gasp at the mention of the Goddess. This is her battle.
You don’t even know who she is! Lazar countered.
I must remind you that I don’t wear this guise for entertainment. The fact that Iridor is present is testimony to the fact that she is also within our midst. Let’s forget Ana for the moment, let’s just focus on the Goddess, whom we struggle for. Trust me, whether I know who she is or not, Lyana is incarnated.
Then where is all his blazing power you have warned me about? Lazar watched the owl’s feathers ruffle, the movement akin to a shrug.
I cannot say.
If Lyana is alive, walking amongst us, he should be full with his magical powers. Why doesn’t he use them?
I cannot explain it. But I trust her and you will have to do the same.
Unless, of course, Lyana is somehow hiding her existence well enough to not prompt his powers in full, Ganya offered. Lazar noticed that her brow was furrowed in deep thought.
He knew Iridor did not appreciate the woman joining in, but they were making use of her magics and that was all that was protecting them right now. It was only fair that she joined her thoughts with theirs. What do you mean? he asked.
Ganya answered him mildly but looked at the owl as she spoke. Iridor insists that Lyana is incarnate.
She is, I tell you, Iridor said, exasperated.
And I believe you, she said. That is how the old stories go. Iridor’s rising heralds the imminent arrival of Lyana but also provokes the search by Maliz. It is how it has always been. Perhaps she is with us. Ganya’s voice was dreamy. But maybe she hasn’t been born yet?
Lazar felt his blood turn thick and cold, moving sluggishly through his veins, whilst his insides seemed to turn to stone. He was sure he was holding his breath. Iridor must have felt the same way; there was only a chilled silence emanating from him. Ganya’s notion hung between them, echoing through their minds.
Lazar knew in his very soul that of course she was right. Ana was not the Goddess—she never had been. But she had been chosen to give birth to Lyana. And in the meantime she would keep Maliz confused and guessing as her protective shield around the baby masked Lyana’s presence.
It is the child, he said, knowing that if he’d had
to say the words aloud, he would have choked on them.
Iridor sounded equally shaken. The baby. Of course. How crafty, how perfect.
And then Ganya proposed a fresh thought to traumatize them. But how a newborn goes into battle with Maliz is beyond me.
Lazar was still stunned by the revelation, could not think straight.
The secrecy surrounding her might explain why everyone’s convinced this is a boy, Iridor said, picking up the thread of thought.
Lazar nodded. Herezah had the old crone, Yozem, do a foretelling. She has pronounced it a boy—so cunning…as you say, the perfect foil.
Lazar! Ganya said, squeezing his hand. That’s the point. You must hide the child. This attack on the fortress is not just to rescue Ana but to protect the child.
Lazar looked uncertain. I understand that but—
Listen to me, Lazar, Iridor began earnestly, if Ganya is right—and I suspect she is—you must hide the fact that the child is a girl. Let everyone think it is a boy, the heir. Let Ana believe it is a boy, if need be. But don’t let anyone—no one, I tell you—see that it is a girl. Perhaps we can fool him. Maybe this is the role you’ve wondered about. Possibly this is what Ellyana has always had in mind for you. Forget about Arafanz. You must guide Lyana safely out of that fortress and into hiding.
To where? Lazar yelled into their minds. What am I supposed to do with a newborn child?
Her mother will know what to do, Ganya counseled sagely.
Exactly, Iridor said, but Lazar heard a note of desperation in his voice. Arafanz is not the issue. He is going to do what he is going to do. You are not responsible for him. Just get mother and child out of there and away from Maliz. Let him come into his power at her birth. Let him rage, filled with magic that he cannot use in the way it is meant. Let him kill us all if he must, but never let him know where she is or who she is. He will never hear about the baby from me.
Nor me, Ganya said, her eyes open and sparkling as she turned to Lazar.
This is madness. We don’t know anything about the child yet. You’re making assumptions. You could both be wrong, Lazar spluttered.
And yet you agree deep down that Ganya is right, Iridor said quietly. I felt your reaction. You were as shocked as I was but you heard the truth in it.
Let us wait. There are many bridges to cross before I have Ana safely under my care, before I can think about her child.
Someone is coming, Iridor suddenly spat. He broke the link and launched himself into the darkness. Lazar looked at Ganya with momentary shock before they fell against each other, kissing passionately as they dropped to the sand.
Who is it? Lazar asked, only realizing now that their link was still open—probably not closed in their haste.
My father, she said into his mind, and at his embarrassed astonishment, she giggled softly.
23
Ana’s pains had become a distant rumble, reminding her that the birth of her child was near. By her calculations she was past eight moons, but she had no say when the baby was coming—it alone was in control of her body now and she would just have to pray that Lyana made this newborn strong enough to survive not only its early birth but the hostile desert into which it was being born.
She rubbed her taut, swollen belly and smiled. She herself had survived the Samazen. It eased her troubled thoughts that if she had lived alone through such a vicious event, her child had a fighting chance with the fierce protection she was ready to provide.
Arafanz came up behind her and hugged her gently. “Are you all right? You’ve been looking wan.”
“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging deeper into his arms.
“I’ve brought you some broth. Old Dazeel is fretting for you. Don’t refuse it, or he’ll use my guts to belt his robes.”
She allowed him to guide her to a small table and stool, both of them sharing gentle amusement that quiet, seemingly ancient Soraz, who cooked so carefully for her, would do anything so dramatic or cruel. “He told me the other day that he’ll deliver my baby for me and I wasn’t to worry, that he keeps his blades very sharp.”
Arafanz actually laughed. “I know. He’s already put me on very loud notice that the moment your time arrives, he is to be called.”
“I don’t mind. He said he’s delivered some babies over the years. That’s good enough for me.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” he said, gesturing for her to begin eating. “I wondered if you’d allow me to attend you as well.”
Ana looked up from her bowl. “That’s a bit awkward, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mean to embarrass you—”
“No, that’s not it. It’s the abduction, the killing of my people, the threat to murder my child’s father, the hate for the Percherese. Need I go on?”
He shook his head. “Are we not friends?”
She looked at him sadly. “No.”
“What are we, then?”
“I don’t know. I am close to you. I feel for you. But putting it into words is impossible. In a way,” she said, sipping modestly from the ladle provided, even though she didn’t feel like food, “I hate you.”
“And yet we are bonded, are we not?”
She nodded. “Every moment with you that I spend hating you, I enjoy.”
Now he smiled softly.
“Will you take my son from me immediately?”
“I must.”
“He cannot survive without me.”
“I have organized a wet nurse. He will be well nourished and I promise you I will get him safely to the city and placed upon the throne at the Stone Palace.”
“Where you will kill his father.”
‘Yes.” Arafanz’s eyes glittered. “Your child will rule Percheron. He will smash the temples and rebuild them in Lyana’s honor. Zarab’s name will be erased, his memory dust in the people’s minds.”
“Why not put any child on the throne? Why bother with mine?”
“Because I believe in bloodlines. I believe only a ruler’s son should inherit the throne.”
She nodded slowly. “I see. And who will raise my son?”
“I will appoint people.”
“And then you will come back here to me?”
“Of course.”
“Then it will be to place a death shroud over my body and commit me to the depths of the sands.”
“I will have you watched in my absence.”
Ana spooned more soup into her mouth and swallowed slowly. “I know you will. But I will find a way to kill myself, Arafanz, if it means swallowing my own tongue or willing myself to death. You know it can be done.”
“Ana—”
“This is why I hate you. I don’t want my son to be born yet. I hope he holds on. I hope Spur Lazar comes for me, as he always has before.”
“And kills me?”
Ana put down the ladle and wiped at a single tear that was threatening to escape. “If killing you is the only way to keep my son and to save Boaz, so be it.”
“Perhaps you will get your wish.”
She turned to gaze into his sad, dark eyes. “How so?”
“A vulture roost has arrived. They are following potential carrion.”
“I don’t understand.”
Arafanz stood. “I think your precious Spur has arrived in my desert. A group is on the outskirts of the fortress now, freezing through the night around the smallest of fires in the vain hope that I will not know they are close. But the birds have given them away. There are no animals to die out there, save camels. And with camels come men. This is not a trading route, Ana. There is no reason for any man to be in the vicinity unless he’s lost or…is trying to find you. I suspect it is the latter.”
Ana tried to keep her expression impassive but she knew the hope that flared inside was mirrored on her face. “Lazar is here?”
“I cannot say for sure. But men are here. I will bring you the body of your Spur and present it to you.”
“Arafanz, wait! I be
g you.”
“Are you going to petition me to save the life of the man you truly love, Ana? Do you think I am so dim that I can be beguiled by all your talk of duty, of your son’s father, of the great young Zar?”
“I have tried to be honest with you.”
“Have you? Tell me, Ana, what is the most important thing to you?”
“My child.”
“I think you lie. I think another holds that claim. If you had to choose between the Spur or the Zar, whose life would you spare?”
She faltered before whispering, “The Spur’s.”
“Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“Lazar’s.”
“Why?’
“Because I love him,” she said, lifting her chin and staring at him defiantly. “And killing him or killing me will not change that, Arafanz. I do not love you. I can never love you. You have too much hate in your heart.” She watched his jaw grind, understood that he was wrestling his emotions back under control.
“I am simply doing what Lyana asks of me,” he finally replied.
Ana stood and upended the bowl of soup across the table, sending the ladle clattering to the ground. “She has not asked you to kill Lazar!” she yelled at him, unable to control her emotions. “He is no enemy of Lyana.”
Surprise registered on the desert man’s face and she guessed he hadn’t thought she had such fire within her. “Be careful, the baby.”
“The baby! The baby? Arafanz, I would sooner murder my own child than allow you to have him and use him for your own ends. Lay a hand on a single strand of Lazar’s head and I swear to you on all that you consider holy I will refuse this child his passage. I shall use my own will to prevent his birth. He will die in my womb and his royal blood will be on your hands. Try explaining that to Ellyana as her wicked, complex plans unravel. Do not use me. Do not use my innocent child. Do not so much as rough up the robe Lazar wears, or take the consequences. I will find a way to carry out my threat. Now leave me!”
Whether Arafanz left to get help, frightened for the birth of her son, or whether he turned his back on her because he accepted that she would never love him, Ana did not know. What she did know, though, was that the fragile, tender relationship that had quietly emerged between them since her abduction had been shattered. It lay in pieces on the threshold of the chamber in which she stood, breathing deeply to regain her equilibrium and to steady her excitement at the news that Lazar was coming.
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