“Tell me what he told you about the Spur’s honor and why it was not true.”
“I don’t wish to repeat it.”
“Oh, but I insist, Fayid. It’s either that or your throat is slit. You can see we now have two corpses rotting in the sand. I have no problem with making it three.”
Boaz’s eyes widened. He glanced at Lazar, who nodded. He couldn’t risk Arafanz taking the Zar’s life as casually as he had taken Salim’s.
“Don’t make me ask again,” Arafanz urged, throwing a pointed look toward Lazar.
“He told me that Spur Lazar had cuckolded the Zar, that he is in love with his wife, the Zaradine Ana.”
“Ah, indeed. And do you believe him, Fayid?”
“No! I believe the Spur is too principled for such behavior. He would never, never dishonor his Zar in this manner.”
Lazar swallowed hard and resisted the urge to stare at the sand in shame. Instead he fixed Boaz with a hard gaze, relieved that his flushed cheeks would not be noticed in this low light.
Arafanz chuckled. “I think you killed the wrong man, Fayid. You may find that the Grand Vizier—despite his persuasion and obvious interest in you—was telling you the truth about your precious Spur.”
Lazar forced himself not to react, though he felt his jaw grind with fury. This was exquisitely dangerous ground he trod now. He desperately needed Iridor’s counsel, and with Maliz dead, perhaps they could risk opening a mindlink.
Surprisingly it was Ganya who broke the frigid silence. “Do not listen to him, Fayid. He deliberately creates problems between you and your Spur.”
Arafanz looked unfazed by her warning. “Believe what you want, soldier boy. But I’ve heard from the Zaradine herself that she and your precious Spur Lazar are lovers.”
It was too much for Lazar to bear. “Unless you can back up that claim, Arafanz, then, Fayid, you have to ask yourself who you trust more. This madman—his brains baked by the desert sun—or this man,” he said, pointing to his chest with private self-loathing.
Boaz turned to Arafanz. “I killed the Grand Vizier for his lecherous behavior toward me, and if I could kill him twice, I would, for his lies against the Spur.”
Arafanz shrugged. “You speak very defiantly and with great composure for a mere servant and for one so young in years. You intrigue me, Fayid. You should have left the Grand Vizier to us—we would have killed him for you and then you would have no blood on your hands. But then soldiers need to be blooded early. I congratulate you. He was not a good person, from what I know of him.” Then he smiled and quipped, “And you keep thinking good things about your Spur.”
Lazar felt relief flood him. The immediate threat to Boaz was past. He wished that Iridor was near. Did this mean they no longer had to be careful? And if this interference by Arafanz was also connected with faith, did it mean they were all fighting on the same side, killing one another over the same cause?
Arafanz interrupted his confused thoughts. “Strap them to camels, tie their hands using rope beneath the beasts’ bellies. We ride for the fortress. And free that hawk. I don’t want the Spur laying claim to anything from my desert.”
Herezah’s face was still ashen. She was curled up tightly on a divan, hands around her knees, trembling. She had not slept, she had not eaten, she had not so much as bathed her face or changed her clothes. Her robes were disheveled and her hair fell in straggled clumps around her tearstained face. Pots of tea cooled around her, untouched. All servants had been banished and she refused all messages. She had cut herself off to think but she had done no thinking; instead she had cocooned herself in the silence, and her mind had gone blank with shock. She knew the Elim guarded her outside but they would not be able to protect her against the might of the Galinseans. King Falza was coming, and from the terrible stories she’d heard of Percheron’s barbaric enemy, he would look forward to seeing her head presented to him on one of the Zar’s solid silver plates. She began to imagine how it would feel to be beheaded…how long did one’s senses last? Long enough to register that the body was no longer attached? Would she be able to see for a few moments? Hear the glee of her executors, perhaps? She gave a low moan of despair as the door opened.
“Crown Valide, it is Bin,” her servant whispered. He was the only one brave enough to risk her wrath. “Make I come in, please?”
“Have you found him?” she croaked.
The servant hurried to bow before her.
“Well?” she asked, not even bothering to raise her head. She knew what the answer was going to be.
“He is nowhere in the palace, Highness. I have Elim combing the city now.”
“I know Salmeo too well,” she groaned. “He would have worked out his escape route and method long before he executed his plan. I just don’t understand his behavior. Why did he do this?”
Bin surprised her by sitting on the floor near her feet so he could look into her face. She flinched but didn’t pull away.
“Crown Valide, may I be candid with you?”
“Were you with my son?”
“Always.”
“Then speak your mind, Bin, for I have no one else to offer me advice, no one else to seek counsel from. You are young but you are all there is.”
He nodded gently. “May I suggest that the Eunuch Salmeo was likely scared of you, Crown Valide. Until recently you were equals—if anything, he held the balance of power in the harem, I suspect, while you held the balance of power outside of its walls because of your connection to the Zar. You were, in effect, each other’s counterbalance.”
“That would be fair to say.”
“But when you were made Crown Valide, the balance was upset. Suddenly you had genuine power. I imagine he felt nervous. I have no doubt there are secrets within the harem that we, on the outside, will never be privy to. Perhaps Salmeo was anxious they remain that way.”
She was intrigued and surprised by how helpful this smart servant was. She could imagine that his bright, quick mind put him in a position to do plenty to harm her cause if he chose to…but he didn’t.
“Bin, why are you so loyal?”
“Pardon, Crown Valide?”
“You heard me. I was just thinking how odd it is that you have so easily transferred your loyalties from my son to me when I am likely not someone you would normally feel beholden to in any way.”
As she expected, he understood completely her message, both what she said and what she didn’t say. He sighed.
“Be honest, Bin. We could all be dead tomorrow.” She laughed mirthlessly.
He did not so much as twitch at her dark humor. “I am loyal to the Crown. Since I began working directly with Zar Boaz, I have seen that, despite some of your more questionable decisions, you, too, care about the Crown, about the realm and its longevity.”
“And I have strange way of showing it—is that what you’re not saying, Bin?”
“All that matters, Crown Valide, is that I will do whatever is required to protect the throne. Right now you sit that throne, so everything I can do is at your disposal. I will serve you with due respect and with honor.”
“And you will do whatever I say?”
“No, Crown Valide, I will do whatever I believe Zar Boaz would wish me to do. I hope that doesn’t mean you will now have my throat slit—you did ask for me to be honest.”
She smiled genuinely. “I did indeed. So what are we going to do? Tomorrow the Galinseans will arrive in our harbor. And the day after tomorrow they begin their killing.”
“You cannot be here, Valide. We must secure your safety in the morning.”
“No, I refuse to run. Get the girls out of the harem. Make arrangements for them to be farmed out to families. They must blend into the population, not be noticed by the Galinseans. Their fate, if they are discovered as the Zar’s women, will be hideous.”
“I think we have to accept that the fate of every Percherese is hideous to contemplate under Galinsean rule.”
“No! King Falza made it
clear. He will spare the people, who he believes are innocents forced to follow their Zar’s ways. His targets are the palace people closer to the Zar, his relatives, his confidants. You, for instance.”
“I also refuse to run,” Bin said calmly. “I took an oath for my Zar. I shall keep it, whatever the cost.”
Herezah could have kissed him for his loyalty. She didn’t expect many others beyond the Elim to show such fortitude. “Thank you, Bin.” She hadn’t expected such genuine appreciation to feel so good, or to prompt her aide’s soft smile. “Let everyone know. I don’t care who flees. But we can offer no protection if people choose to leave the city boundaries. I shall need to speak with the head of the Protectorate. Without Spur Lazar, I fear we are lost, but we must go through the motions—although, between you and me, I don’t anticipate allowing all our soldiers to die. It’s pointless. We are no match for the Galinseans.”
“We could, of course, fight back. We outnumber them significantly. Weight of numbers could prevail if we can protect our harbor.”
“You really are a surprise, Bin, aren’t you? Fight back? I don’t know anything about our military other than its loyalty to the Zar, and especially to the Spur. Well, I shall ask Captain Ghassal, for I won’t be held responsible for carnage. I do feel this war is lost before it even begins. I’m sorry to sound so defeated but I…” Her voice trailed off and she looked at Bin, embarrassed.
Bin nodded. “I know.” It didn’t take a seer to see that all the fight had gone out of the Crown Valide after today’s atrocity. “I shall fetch Captain Ghassal personally and immediately. And the Grand Master Eunuch?”
She shook her head dejectedly. “Unfortunately, it seems he has been too cunning this time. We have no resources to use against him.”
“He should be made answerable for this. He alone provoked war. You thought you were brokering a peace.”
“Falza saw only his dead wife on a royal barge of Percheron. The fact that the poison was meant for me seems somehow lost on him.” Herezah’s hand shook as she reached for a cup of cold tea to sip. “Where Salmeo would escape to is anyone’s guess. Do we even know where he is from? My understanding is that he came to the palace as a very young child.”
Bin gave a disappointed shake of his head. “I’m afraid not, Crown Valide. It was so long ago that no one remembers. I checked our library records, though, and it seems the eunuch is ahead of us. The particular book that recorded the purchase of slaves for the year of his arrival at the palace is gone.”
“Stolen?” She gave a small gasp of despair.
Bin shrugged. “We have to assume so. He has thought of everything.”
“But that means he must be returning to his birthplace. Why else would he bother stealing the records?”
“You are probably right, Crown Valide, but we shall never know where that birthplace is. Unless we can find the slaver who bought Salmeo as a child.”
Herezah nodded miserably. “Salmeo has to be sixty summers, possibly more. That means his slaver is likely dead.”
“Let me try, though,” Bin offered.
“Go ahead. It could, of course, be his way of sending us on a donkey chase. He is cunning enough to steal those records purely to make us think one way whilst he goes another.”
“I shall send the captain up immediately.”
“And then we must get the girls out. I would give anything for the benefit of the Spur’s wisdom right now,” Herezah said, standing. “But we must do this alone, Bin—you and I.”
“I shall gladly stand by your side and face whatever we must, Crown Valide,” Bin said, bowing.
How death felt suddenly so honorable was beyond her but Herezah felt inspired by his words. She wished her son and Lazar could see her now. It was a pity she would likely be dead before either of them returned.
26
Lazar, Boaz, and Ganya had ridden uncomfortably strapped to the camels. Finally the beasts stopped and lowered themselves, knees bending neatly into the sand. Warm golden grit was stirring in small angry eddies around the imposing fortress walls and Lazar was glad of the shield of his headdress. The sky had already begun to lighten, and despite the precariousness of his situation, he felt his hopes surge that he would at last see Ana again.
Arafanz walked up to him and Lazar refused to show how stiff he felt from the hours of ungainly travel. “Welcome to my home,” the rebel said. Although the words were gracious, his tone was anything but sociable. “You’d never have found me. You must admit, we blend too well.”
“It’s certainly impressive…from a distance, yes, you’re right, the structure is easily missed. But don’t fool yourself, Arafanz, I knew precisely where we were going.”
“I can’t imagine how.”
“Nor will you ever know.”
“You must be desperate to see her,” Arafanz baited.
“I am desperate to return her to her husband, the Zar.”
“I know you lie, Lazar. I can see in your eyes how you feel about Ana—and I understand. She is not a young woman any man could easily forget.”
If Lazar’s hands had not been tied, he was sure he would have attacked the arrogant man standing before him. “I will die before I let you keep her.”
“Excellent. Your death is desired.”
“Be assured, Ana belongs in Percheron. That is where she will be returned to.”
The rebel sighed. “It will have to be over my corpse, then,” he said, and smiled, genuinely this time. Lazar understood how rare that expression must be on his otherwise grave countenance.
“That would be my intention,” Lazar replied.
Arafanz barked a small laugh. “You’re amusing, Spur. No weapon, no camels, no sense of where you are or which direction to head in, no food, no water, but you’re still going to rescue Ana, kill me, somehow navigate your way around my dozens of men, and escape, plus get yourselves back safely to Percheron?” He began to clap, a new look of irony on his face.
“Something like that,” Lazar said.
“I should just kill Ana now in front of you and release you from your pathetic delusions.”
“You could, but you won’t,” Lazar said.
“And why not?”
“Because you’ve already revealed yourself to me, Arafanz. You’ve told me so much more about yourself than you intended. I know what motivates you now; I know how you feel about Ana and about her husband. Whatever happens, you are not going to kill Ana. She is your whole reason right now for breathing and it has nothing to do with how your heart reacts to her.”
Lazar watched the rebel’s eyes narrow and knew his words had struck home. So Iridor was right—the rebel was not as ruthless as he liked to think he was. Ana had possibly stolen his heart. Lazar had to bite back the groan of anger that rose in his throat at the notion that this man had touched Ana, had probably won some affection from her in return.
Arafanz sneered at Lazar before motioning one of his men forward. The leader spoke to the man in a language the Spur did not understand. “Take the woman, put her in a holding cell.” He turned to another. “Put the young one behind the camels until I call for him.” Boaz was manhandled away from Lazar, who tried to reassure him with an encouraging glance whilst Arafanz signaled to a third minion. “Bring Ana out.”
Lazar heard Ana’s name and felt his insides clench with fear. If Ana showed recognition of Boaz, all was lost; the Zar’s blood would be spilled in moments amid the sands of the fortress. He glanced at Ganya being led away and was proud of the way she threw him a look of courage. Her expression begged him to stay strong. He didn’t really understand her defiance. To him the situation felt lost.
Iridor hid behind one of the many boulders that made up the rooftop of the fortress and watched keenly in the dim predawn light as Arafanz’s men led Ganya away. He felt sick to his wing tips. Something had gone badly wrong. One of Arafanz’s many lone riders must have stumbled upon the group. He wondered how much Arafanz knew of Boaz; he suspected not as much as he ne
eded to know or the young man would already be dead. So perhaps the Fayid ruse was still working for them? Where was Maliz? And Salim? He felt the chill of fear grip him. Were they dead? Maliz could not be killed! But where was he? Lazar would hardly have left him to perish in the desert—as much as the demon meant harm to them, the Spur was wise enough to keep enemies close. Had the impostor escaped? He couldn’t risk a link to Lazar, not yet. He looked at Boaz, and was surprised by the young man’s calm, and it was only then that he noticed that the Zar’s clothes were bloodstained. Fresh fear coursed through him. He saw Ganya swing around and throw a look back to Lazar. Ganya was now his only chance. He had to hope they took her to the cells in the bowels of the fortress that had first held Ana. It was still dark enough for him to move relatively unnoticed, but once the sky lightened fully, he would have to disappear and hide. It wasn’t the humans so much as the hawks who were the greatest danger to him.
He moved with stealth, hopping down from level to level as best he could using the cover of the relative darkness of the morning. He waited, and as he had guessed, Ganya was pushed into one of the dark holes that passed for holding cells. He tapped at the bars of her cell until she turned and saw him. She ran at the tiny window and grabbed his foot. He knew to wait whilst she found her inner peace.
Soon enough Ganya’s voice entered his head. We were set upon by his men. My father was slain.
Oh, Ganya, forgive us his death.
I refuse to think about his murder right now. We must survive before we mourn him.
Where is the Grand Vizier?
Dead.
He can’t be!
I saw his corpse.
Arafanz killed him?
No. Fayid, the boy. Stabbed him because the Grand Vizier apparently made an improper advance on him.
What? he stammered. What sort of advance?
I don’t know. The youngster was in shock. All he would say is that the Grand Vizier wanted to enter him. Fayid reacted angrily at his manhood being threatened. He stabbed him just moments before they were grabbed by Arafanz’s men.
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