“May I speak candidly, my Zar, in the absence of everyone else?” Tariq said, looking around at the emptiness. Boaz and he had been sitting silently around the tiny fire since Salim had excused himself.
“You normally do,” Boaz replied mildly.
“Are you feeling all right, Majesty?”
“Why do you and Lazar keep asking me that? I am perfectly well.”
“You are withdrawn, mostly silent, not at all the enthusiastic Zar who set out on this journey. Is it something that we have done or said?”
“Perhaps I’m looking forward to seeing my wife, and the child she carries…and concerned that we all might not survive this adventure.”
“It could be that, my Zar, but I suspect it is not,” Maliz said.
“You know me that well, do you?”
“I think so,” the demon said, worrying at the embers of the fire with a stick to throw out more heat.
“It must be the desert that makes you so reckless, Tariq. I don’t remember you being quite so direct in the palace, or so aggressive.”
“You think I’ve changed personality?”
“I think you’ve changed entirely,” Boaz answered truthfully, taking advantage of the opening that the Grand Vizier had provided. He was determined to get to the bottom of Lazar’s concerns and Iridor’s warning.
“Indeed? How so?”
“Everything about you. This is not the Tariq who served my father.”
“But we have been through this before, Highness. I thought I had explained it to you.”
“What you actually think, no one would know. What I think is that you believe you have beguiled me with clever words. I am young, Grand Vizier. But I am not stupid.”
“My Zar, please let—”
“No, Tariq, don’t. In fact, let’s start with your name, shall we? Is it really Tariq?”
“What can you mean?”
“The words are plainly spoken. Tariq—the man I knew and despised—has gone. The person who replaces him I rather like but I’d prefer honesty because he’s too different and suddenly I feel apprehensive.”
“What is it that you suspect, Your Majesty?”
“Let’s speak candidly, as you suggested, shall we?” Boaz didn’t wait for a response. “Magic does not frighten me as it does so many. I believe it exists around us. For the most part it doesn’t affect any of us but a few it may touch, now and then. In fac—”
“And have you ever been touched by it, Boaz?” The Grand Vizier’s voice was somehow deeper, and incredibly seductive.
Boaz blinked. “I…I have not,” he said, determined to keep control of this conversation. “But I believe in it.”
“Why?”
“Don’t question me, Grand Vizier. Remember your place.”
“What is it you want to know?” The man sitting opposite Boaz suddenly seemed to be closer and, yes, his voice was definitely deeper. Even his expression had lost that usually disinterested, almost amused look that the Grand Vizier normally adopted.
“I want to know who you are. I want to know your real name. I want to know what you truly want.”
“Are you sure?” The voice had dropped even lower and Boaz felt a coldness wash over him. He felt genuinely alarmed for the first time in the Grand Vizier’s presence.
“I insist,” he said, forcing bravado to the surface, refusing to cower beneath the disturbing expression that seemed to be claiming Tariq’s face. He knew he was probably imagining it—the fire, the cold, the empty expanse, the loneliness, the paranoia and anger over Ana all playing their part—but it looked as though someone else was pushing through the Grand Vizier’s features.
“Tell me, Zar Boaz, if you could have anything in the world, what would you like most right now?”
The dramatic switch in subject threw Boaz off balance. He looked at Tariq, dumbfounded, but aware that the Grand Vizier’s eyes were taking on a mesmeric quality.
“Answer me, Boaz.”
Boaz registered that Tariq was also not paying him the usual respect, calling him by his name; somehow it didn’t seem to matter right at this moment. “I want Ana alive.”
“Not your child? Is he not your first priority?”
“He should be.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t know the child. I love Ana.” It was not a lie. What he intended to do with her was his own business.
“What about duty?”
“The Crown already has my life. It’s not as though I can renounce it. Ana is the only thing I can choose for myself, personally.”
“Are you sure she loves you? Be honest with me, Boaz. I intend to be deadly honest with you.” Tariq chuckled deeply. “Does she love you as singularly as you do her?”
Boaz fought the truth, felt himself trying to wrestle his answer away from his lips, but it was determined to escape, as though it was being dragged from him. “No.”
“You are not sure?”
The young Zar felt himself perspiring. What was he fighting? How was Tariq compelling him to be so honest? “I know she loves me, but not in the way…not in the same way she loves…” He trailed off, trying to swallow the words, too frightened to say them aloud, too frightened to accept the reality of it.
“In the way she loves Lazar? Is that what you’re struggling to say?”
Boaz felt as though he was choking. A whimper escaped him. “Stop it, Tariq! Whatever you’re doing, stop it!”
“Oh, but you asked for honesty, Majesty. And I’m paying you the honor you deserve by allowing you to glimpse the real me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” the Grand Vizier demanded. “I’m showing you how to be honest.”
“Yes, I want honesty,” Boaz choked out. “I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not. I’m just making sure I have your full attention. You’re right, my Zar. You’ve found me out, although how you have does intrigue me. I have to wonder what help you’ve had and from whom.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing that concerns you. Boaz, how do you feel about being cuckolded?”
“How dare you!” Boaz instinctively tried to stand but realized he could no longer move.
“Ah, yes, I knew that would touch a nerve. Boaz, you are a Zar. How can you tolerate that a mere soldier—a Galinsean at that—makes a mockery of you, your title, your Crown, your very manhood?”
“You have no proof! You—”
“I don’t need it. Your very reaction tells me that you suspect Lazar and Ana are lovers.”
“You lie. You put that notion before me. No one has ever suggested it.”
“And still you overreact. Curious. A secure man would laugh in my face, although I’ll grant you that Lazar is certainly a handsome, obviously desirable man. It now seems that both your wife and your mother are opening their legs for him.”
Boaz, unable to move his limbs, helpless in his fury, began to splutter. “What do you want?”
“I want to make you the most revered and feared Zar in the history of Percheron. The Galinseans will pay fealty to you in time to come. Trust me.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
“I have access to powers that you can barely dream of.” Boaz felt the sinister magical hold over him lessening, found he could breathe properly again. “Revenge, Zar Boaz!” Tariq continued. “I want you to take revenge.”
“Me?”
“What if I told you I could provide it?”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Time is short. They’ll be back soon. My name is unimportant. It’s what I can do for you that is. It’s what we can achieve together that counts.”
“Let me go! I order you!”
“Tell me you’ll test my theory.”
“What?” Boaz felt the world right itself. Suddenly all was normal. He was looking once again into Tariq’s slightly amused, thoroughly normal face. He could almost believe he had imagined the previous few minutes of fright.
�
�Test Lazar. Find a way. If I’m right, come talk to me. I will help you.”
Boaz stared, uncomprehending, at the Grand Vizier. Before he could respond, however, the person in question strode into view. Behind him came the Khalid folk.
“Leave me, Tariq,” Boaz demanded, feeling a hollow victory in wresting back some superiority over the Grand Vizier. Tariq merely smiled at him before nodding and withdrawing.
“Sorry we took so long, Fayiz,” Lazar said sheepishly. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Spur,” Boaz said, forcing a smile, careful to keep his tone deferential in front of the Khalid. He picked up Jumo the falcon from his perch and handed him to Lazar.
He saw Lazar frown at him as he accepted the bird, now hooded for the night. “Where’s he going?” he asked, nodding toward the Grand Vizier.
Boaz shrugged. “Probably to relieve himself now that you’re back. I hope you enjoyed yourself?”
Again Lazar frowned, looking over his shoulder to see that Salim and Ganya were settling themselves down to sleep near their camels. “Zar Boaz, you seem so unhappy. Is it about my time with the desert woman? You understand why I must go with Ganya, don’t you? She is leading us to the fortress.”
“So you say. And what has she told you after tonight’s passion?” He could see how the words inflamed Lazar; how the Spur took a steadying breath to ignore the irritation reflected in his face by the firelight.
“You seem angry about this arrangement. Would you prefer that I stop seeing her?”
“It’s of no consequence to me whom you lie down with, Lazar, so long as it doesn’t encroach on my sensibilities.”
Lazar’s gaze narrowed and Boaz felt the full weight of his intense stare. “Forgive me, I’m not sure I understand what you are saying, Majesty,” he replied softly. “Do you refer to the Valide? Because I thought—”
“This has nothing to do with my mother, Lazar.”
“But something is troubling you. I would be grateful to know what it is before tomorrow, when we face Arafanz.”
Boaz opened his mouth to respond but found his words frozen in this throat. “We’re here?” he finally asked.
“One hour’s ride northwest, according to Ganya.”
“I see. So you will want me to remain hidden from now on?”
Lazar nodded. “Tomorrow only Salim and I will leave the camp. I am leaving you with Ganya and Tariq. If anything should happen—anything at all that doesn’t seem right—you are to get on your camel and ride. Take Ganya with you. She will be able to sense the way back.” He sat cross-legged opposite the Zar. “I want no heroics. Forget me. I have my role. Yours is to stay safe.”
“What about Tariq?”
“Take him, by all means, but do not slow yourself down because of him. I mean this, Zar Boaz. You are all that matters, not Ganya and not the Grand Vizier. As it is, it galls me that I might put you in this position of fleeing alone.”
“You didn’t put me here. I chose to be here.”
Lazar nodded. “And I still don’t fully understand why. However, your choice aside, I am still responsible for your safety.”
“What is your plan for tomorrow?”
“I have no plan.” Lazar shrugged. “I can only assess the situation once I am faced with it. Whatever happens, I intend to return the Zaradine and your child to you unharmed, Majesty.”
Boaz swallowed, doubt creeping back to challenge his suspicions. If Lazar was so treacherous, why was he still behaving so loyally, acting so concerned? But Tariq’s taunt niggled. Test him, he had demanded. “Are you feeling confident?” he asked, buying himself time to think.
Lazar shook his head ruefully. “I have to believe that I will bring Ana out of there alive, at whatever cost.”
“You’re prepared to die,” Boaz stated baldly.
“Of course.”
“Why?” Lazar’s head snapped up from where he’d been watching sand sift through his fingers. He stared at Boaz with a look of frank disbelief. “I don’t mean to shock you, Lazar, but doesn’t it strike you as odd that a Galinsean prince—the heir to the throne, no less—is prepared to lay down his life on behalf of a mere odalisque, a young woman and former goatherd’s daughter?”
“Zar Boaz, she is Zaradine. She is Absolute Favorite. I—”
“She is not me! I can understand your loyalty to the Crown…to my father and subsequently to me. Many can’t, considering your background. But I do. I don’t comprehend why you’d give your life for one of my women, however.”
“Perhaps because she carries your heir,” Lazar said. Boaz noted that all incredulity had left his Spur’s voice, and was replaced with a wintry tone that was filled with warning. But he refused to be daunted, not now that he had started on this path.
“People could be forgiven for reading far more into your apparent loyalty.”
“Apparent loyalty? Zar Boaz, please explain what precisely you’re not saying. We are facing immense danger and I would rather do so knowing I have your full support. If there is something you want to tell me, or ask me, I will listen or answer truthfully as required.”
“Will you, Lazar?” Now the Spur looked at him, aghast. Boaz continued: “You see, I just don’t know if you are being entirely honest with me where Ana is concerned. You’ve never made a secret of your attachment to her. Initially we all put it down to the fact that, having sourced her in the foothills, purchased her, and brought her away from her family at such a tender age, you felt responsible for her, as an uncle might a young niece. But the Protectorship you offered her and the risk you took on her behalf struck me as beyond avuncular. And then you dove into waters to rescue her from drowning, and cradled her in your lap and fought to breathe life back into her; but I heard from the Valide and the Grand Vizier that you were positively cold toward Ana throughout the journey to Romea. My mother assures me you all but ignored my wife. It doesn’t add up.”
He watched Lazar’s jaw grind. “And your point, Your Majesty? What is it that you want me to explain?”
“I want your assurance that this tremendous risk you take with your own life is on my behalf and not on Ana’s.”
“I risk my life, Zar Boaz,” Lazar growled, “for the heir to Percheron so that life in your realm might continue long after yours is dust. It is for Percheron that I have been loyal to Joreb, his son, and his son’s son.”
“But you are a king in your own right!”
“I am a prince, that is all, Highness. My father still sits his throne. And I renounced my right to the throne of Galinsea; I chose to be Percheron’s Spur. I did this before you were chosen as Zar and long before Ana came to your harem. I am first and foremost a loyal subject to Percheron.”
Boaz nodded. At any other time he would have felt ashamed of his behavior. He despised his own insecurity where Ana was concerned. But his own deep suspicions, mirrored by the taunting words of the Grand Vizier, haunted his thoughts. He had not imagined Tariq’s hold over him earlier. There was magic at work, as both Lazar and Iridor had warned. And if that were true, perhaps there were other truths to be unearthed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Salim get up to take a drink. And he knew what he must do next.
“Forgive me, Lazar. I think I am mistrusting of everything and everyone right now.”
Lazar glowered, but he said nothing other than, “Get some sleep, Zar Boaz. Tomorrow is almost upon us.” Boaz could hear the disappointment in the Spur’s voice.
“I must relieve myself.”
Lazar sighed and settled himself down on his sleeping rug. “Don’t stray too far.”
Boaz moved silently across the sand, ignoring Tariq, who seemed to be snoring lightly around the embers, and only glancing at Ganya, who was seemingly already asleep as well. He found Salim hidden behind the camels, chanting quietly to himself.
“Forgive me,” Boaz said softly, realizing the man was praying.
Salim’s eyes opened. “You speak Khalid?”
“Very little.” Boaz shrugged, hold
ing his thumb and index finger barely apart.
The man smiled. “A little is all you need.”
“I can’t sleep. Do you mind us talking?”
The man shrugged.
Boaz sat down and leaned against one of the camels. “Lazar told me you and he go tomorrow.”
“It will be dangerous.” The Khalid pointed behind him to where Ganya slept and back to Boaz. “You two must be safe.”
Boaz nodded, then tipped his head toward Tariq. “Lazar doesn’t care about him.”
The man’s grin widened. “Neither should you.”
“I know that Lazar cares only for the girl, Ana. I haven’t seen her. Is she that lovely?” He struggled to make himself understood whilst hating the deception he was employing.
But Salim grasped what he was saying. He nodded, smiled widely. “Ana, beautiful!”
“He must care for her a lot,” Boaz replied, running sand through his fingers in the same distracted way he’d watched Lazar do. He wanted to give the impression that he was merely a youngster making conversation. It was also a way to hide his shame.
“Dara,” Salim said, “plenty.”
Boaz grinned, loading the expression with a playful wickedness and further despising the insincerity of his methods as he touched his heart and sighed, a question in his eyes.
Salim echoed the gesture, placing his own hand over his heart. “Dara, dara,” Salim repeated, obviously believing it mattered little to share this with a lad who clearly idolized his Spur, wanted to emulate the ways of the senior soldier.
“He has given his heart to her?” Boaz queried in halting Khalid.
Salim put his finger to his lips and nodded.
It took every ounce of composure but Boaz forced down his rage, smiling with resigned fury at the poor Khalid.
He didn’t have to shake Lazar awake. The Spur, he was sure, only ever dozed; in fact, his falcon, sitting on a stake in the sand, took more exception to being disturbed.
Goddess Page 30