“How long, do you think?”
Ganya was surprised that he’d ask such a thing. “Probably two more days to be safe.”
“Stuck here?”
She frowned beneath her desert veils. “Where else, Ashar? We should be grateful for our lives. I still can’t believe we found the camp. Lyana is guiding us.”
“Lyana be damned! We found it because we were brave enough to face her Samazen and courageous enough to stick to our easterly path.”
“Ashar! Do not take the Goddess’s name in vain.”
“Or what? She’ll strike me down? I’m not scared of her.”
Ganya frowned, disturbed by her little brother’s bitter tone.
“But it has calmed, don’t you think?” he said after several moments of awkward silence.
“Yes, I agree.”
“I think we should go, continue east to Percheron.”
“Go? Are you mad? If it’s calm enough out there for us to ride, it’s calm enough for Arafanz’s people to hunt us down. East is the direction he’ll try.”
“He would chase Lazar and Ana first.”
“Ashar, it’s not that I think he’d forgive the Spur or the Zaradine. He would surely hunt them mercilessly. But I think he would reserve his greatest fury for you. You were Razaqin. You have betrayed him. Ana and Lazar have behaved as expected. But he will want you back and want to make you suffer. We must keep you safe; we will head south. We are two on one camel—we must preserve her strength as well, since neither of us knows how long we may have to ride. She will travel quicker with both of us if we take turns.”
“Ganya, my dear, she will travel quicker if we didn’t have you along at all.”
With dread in her heart and a chill of fear tingling through her spine, Ganya slowly pulled back her linens to look at her brother.
His head covering had already been removed. He was right, the sand had certainly calmed, although she would hardly call it peaceful.
“Ashar, you’re frightening me.”
“Am I?”
“Why are you behaving like this? You are not yourself.”
He burst into laughter, chilling Ganya further. The unholy sound seemed to echo around the rock they hid beneath.
“No, I’m not myself. You’re right.”
She shook her head. “What’s happening, Ashar?”
She saw his hand move, felt something brush past her, and suddenly she was gagging.
“You’re dying. Don’t fight it, it will be quick. I’m sorry you have to suffer the same fate as your father, but perhaps it’s also appropriate to die in the sands as he did. If it helps, Ganya, I’m not really Ashar. He died back in the arena when he whispered the words I wanted to hear. I’d convinced him, you see, that Boaz possessed special magical powers conferred upon all Zars down the ages. He was naive and seduced by the notion of rescuing his sister and ‘Miss Ana,’ as he so quaintly called her, not to mention wealth and freedom.”
“Maliz!” she choked out as her hot blood pumped through her fingers, as she desperately but in vain tried to close the gaping wound at her throat.
“You must be almost done now. That’s it, you lie down, bleed out into the sand, and think of your baby brother. He didn’t even fight me, poor fool. He wanted to set up a merchant trade. Good-bye, Ganya. At least you can die knowing you had some pleasant last evenings with the Spur. I shall tell him you went with a smile on your face.” He laughed. “And an even wider one at your throat.”
She was no longer aware of him, only a darkness, and using the last of her wits before she died, Ganya cast out with her mind voice, searching for anyone who could listen.
Lazar struggled onto the plinth. Instantly he was bathed in shimmering colors as the Crystal Pillars sensed his presence.
We welcome the Amalgama, they chimed.
He twisted around, both frightened and entranced at the same moment.
You are injured…and sick.
Lazar realized he could no longer see Ana for the iridescent sparkling all about him, and for all his worries, he suddenly and curiously felt safe, protected, uninhibited…perhaps for the first time in his life. He felt lost in the wonder of their light and beauty.
“Ana,” he groaned.
The Mother is doing what a mother must, they soothed.
“Who is the Amalgama?”
Lie down. We must heal you.
“I have no drezden. I accept that I’m dying, but my son—”
You will see your son. You will return him to Percheron. We have no need of medicines here. We can heal your fever and soothe your burns, we can mend those wounds on your body. Sleep now. Trust us.
The singsong voices sounded so compelling, and their offer irresistible. Soothed by their chimes and the colors and their warmth, Lazar let go of everything of himself and gave it over to Lyana.
He thought he heard someone cry out from beyond, could have sworn it was Ganya’s voice, but carried away on Lyana’s warmth and the promise of rest and healing, he ignored it and slept.
Ana could see the pillars sparkling and shifting their iridescence. She knew they were speaking to Lazar. But she could not hear them or him, could not know whether he called to her, for she was on an angry tide of pain. And she had to give herself over to it and be carried along or she would be lost.
She heard herself screaming in agony and knew that very soon her desire to push her baby would become overwhelming. She wept; once again she was alone. She would face this frightening event without help or guidance, without even a hand to squeeze and reassure her.
Always she was alone. She vented her despair now, calling Lyana’s name.
Maliz had no intention of leaving just yet but there was only limited water and a few morsels of food left at the bottom of a sack he’d found in the camel shelter, no doubt left from the previous day’s riding. There certainly wasn’t enough to sustain one person, let alone two. Ganya had been an encumbrance; he was glad to have done away with her. He’d never appreciated the way she had looked at him sideways when he had been Tariq. And now he knew why. Ganya must have been aware of the demon, and probably known whom he’d disguised himself within. How could she know this? The only explanation, he realized, was that Lazar knew.
Rot him! He almost hoped that Lazar had survived the Samazen so that he could ultimately kill him himself. That would have been easy if he were still Boaz, of course; not so easy as Ashar. Zarab rot him twice over! If Lazar hadn’t worked it out, hadn’t attacked Boaz, he could be traveling as a Zar right now…women and indulgence at his call, not to mention a healthy, young body in which to move. Nevertheless, Ashar’s body was wiry and tough, and no matter how disgusted he felt to have lost the Zar’s cover, he was grateful he’d taken the precaution of working on the young Razaqin. What a tragic boy he had been—poor, idealistic, with a head full of delusions. He had been such easy prey.
And Ganya was just as gullible, even sitting in front of him on the camel, still believing she was protecting her baby brother. Stupid woman! Getting to the camp had been easy with his heightened powers of direction; he never doubted that they would reach its cover but he was still relieved that the Samazen’s fury had dissipated. Though it could be back with vengeance in the morning, he had every intention of making the most of its quieter time. He lay down; he would sleep against the warmth that Ganya’s corpse offered him…a few hours, that was all, and then he would leave before dawn. Taking the precaution of wrapping the camel’s reins around his fist, Maliz slept soundly and even with a soft smile playing around Ashar’s lips.
32
Herezah and Bin had spent what was left of the night together, staring out over the Faranel, and she was sure the servant could sense, as well as she, that dawn was on the rim of the sky. The killing would begin soon.
“Have you counted?” she asked, as though they were waking from a long sleep rather than an interminable, sorrowful silence.
“Forty, I think.”
“Probably more,” she
said. “Not that it matters.”
Bin stood and, she noted, stretched surreptitiously, so as not to give offense. The polite servant to the end; she wondered again how she had missed not just so much about this young man but probably about so many faithful people around her. She regretted it. Regretted it all, in fact.
“I will do one final check around the palace, Crown Valide, so I can brief you on its status,” Bin said, breaking into her thoughts as he bowed in farewell.
“Bin, I can’t turn back time, although I would like to. For now let me just say a rather humble thank-you. I realize there have been too many times when I’ve not bothered to say it and, in truth, not even felt the sentiment.”
He nodded and she was pleased that he did not try to protest. She liked him all the more for that moment of absolute honesty.
“If by some miracle we live through this, Crown Valide, it would be my desire to serve you as a royal in your own right, not simply as wife to a former Zar, or mother to our present one. If our own Zar should not return—”
“Do not say it, Bin, I beg you.”
“But we must consider the possibility, not just of our own deaths, but of the death of the whole line of Zars as we know it, Crown Valide. Let us imagine, just for this last moment of peace, that Zar Boaz has met his fate in the desert, that he has passed without a known living heir. And let us just say that you somehow survive today and whatever terror awaits Percheron, I would not hesitate to suggest that you, and only you—with the right counsel—are fit to rule Percheron until a solution can be found, a new dynasty begun. I would go so far as to say that you yourself, as the most recent Valide, may even have to consider bearing us a new Zar. It has no precedent, to my knowledge—perhaps Percheron enters a new era.”
“A matriarchal one?” she asked, dazzled by his near-blasphemous suggestion.
“Why not? At least until your new son can take his rightful place.”
“Let us both survive this day, Bin, and perhaps we’ll be discussing your audacious notion with Falza across the treaty table.”
He gave a shy smile. “I will go off to my duties, Crown Valide.”
“And I shall get dressed in the manner befitting a queen at war,” she said archly.
Lazar awoke refreshed; all his previous dizziness and distress had left him. He was no longer feverish or disorientated, could feel no pain or wounds. The weeping burn he had hardly felt during the panicked escape but that had forced him to clench his teeth during the camel journey, had miraculously disappeared. He was healed…for now.
“Lyana?” he called.
We are not her. We are her sentinel, you could say, answered the pillars, their colors turning and swirling.
“What do you guard?”
Her, they chimed softly to him. And you.
“Where is Ana?”
As you left her.
“But I have been asleep.”
Only moments, they reassured him. She is nearing her time but she is resting.
“You welcomed me as the Amalgama. What does it mean?”
You are the unification, they chorused. You are the central pillar, Lucien Lazar. Around you Lyana has built her battle. Everything she has put in place for this cycle has been combined around your role. You are her champion, her protector, her father. She must remain hidden for a few years more until our Goddess is no longer a helpless infant. But you are the blending point for all her believers and supporters.
“I need you to explain this Amalgama for me. Forgive me for not being able to make whatever leap you need me to.”
You have unified with Ana to form the child who will carry Lyana. Furthermore this son of yours must be unified with his throne. That is your role.
“Wait! I thought that was Arafanz’s role.”
We needed second and third plans, Lucien Lazar. I know it may not feel this way to you but much of how this cycle turned out was left to fate. Lyana is counting on certain people to fulfill their roles but she doesn’t have as much control over mortals as perhaps you think she has. She could only set up the plan and hope that you could follow it.
“You mean Arafanz is merely a contingency plan?” he asked, aghast. “People have brutally lost their lives because of him and yet he is only following his mad pathway in the event of unforeseen circumstances?” Lazar’s voice had risen and his bitter tone had become demanding.
The pillars appeared to dull momentarily, as if sighing. Lyana asks your forgiveness but she could not know how all your lives would unfold. As it is, we came perilously close to losing you, Lucien Lazar, to unexpected circumstances.
“Didn’t you have a contingency plan for me?” he asked, pacing aggressively, feeling suddenly trapped by the Crystal Pillars.
It is very important that Luc—as he shall be called—become the next Zar of Percheron. You will be the amalgam that brings Percheron together with Galinsea to forge a partnership so strong—in its politics, its trade, and especially its faith—that the region will never again be under threat. To answer your original question, you are the unifying factor that will pick up the pieces of what is left behind from this cycle and repair them.
You are the common factor between Galinsea and Percheron. You are the common factor between the people and royalty; both sides trust you. You are the mortal—with an ear to the gods.
“And Maliz?”
Lyana will destroy him.
“How?”
That is her burden. It is not yours, Lucien Lazar. You have already fulfilled so much of what she needed from you. Now you must help Ana deliver your son and he must be returned to Percheron immediately. War comes—it begins today. You and he alone can prevent the Galinseans from sacking the city.
“Today!” Lazar cried. “But how am I supposed to return in time to save anything?”
Search yourself. You have the answer and the means. But Ana needs you now.
Suddenly he could hear her wails that had been shut out from him, presumably by the pillars.
“I don’t know what to do,” he beseeched.
She does. Trust Ana.
Lazar was at her side in moments. Her breath came in shallow pants now.
“He comes, Lazar. Our son arrives. Quickly! Get me onto the plinth.”
“Don’t move, I can—”
“No,” she cried. “I must be over there, where you just were. I need to speak with her. She will help me.”
Rather than upset Ana further, he picked her up easily. She moaned as he took her up the stairs again, laying her down softly amid the freshly intense color of Lyana’s Crystal Pillars.
“Stay with me, Lazar,” she begged.
“I won’t leave you, I promise,” he said, holding her hand, “but I don’t know what to do.”
“Sit behind me. Let me feel you against me.”
As he moved around Ana so that she could lean her upper body against his chest, she began a deep groaning sound and started to push.
He felt helpless but recalled that while all of his father’s bitches, who had delivered litters of pups, had enjoyed the nearness of the people they loved, they had nevertheless gone about the business of birthing by withdrawing into themselves. He sensed Ana was doing just that now as she instinctively began the final sorrowful journey with her baby as it made its way out of her body.
He took her hands, wrapped his arms around her, and held her close as she began to bear down and deliver the next Zar of Percheron and the future King of Galinsea.
Herezah was ready to face her death. She had dressed in a somber charcoal robe and was devoid of all jewelry; her hair was tied in a single simple plait and clasped at the back of her head. The Crown Valide looked at herself in the mirror and smiled wryly. In days gone by, she would almost certainly have opted to look as dazzling as she could. She would have chosen ivory so that, should Falza draw her blood, she would look stark and memorable in death. Even to the end, the old Herezah would have ensured as much theater as possible. But not anymore. She couldn’t pinpoin
t when anything about herself had changed; it had begun in the desert and developed over the time she had spent nursing Lazar. Those months watching Lazar suffer, then slowly bringing him back to good health, had easily been the happiest time of her life. She had smiled a great deal, she had felt an intense glow of pleasure at touching him as she nursed him and watched his body respond to her gentle ministrations. She had felt complete for the first time in her life. It had been short-lived but she couldn’t forget how good it had felt to care. And though none of the desire to rule, none of the cunning, had left her, her idea of ruling had changed from the desire for power to a desire to be a memorable Crown Valide whom her people would respect and the history books would remember. The cunning she wanted to use for the good of Percheron now, rather than for herself. Lazar had been right. What a great Valide she could have been if she’d put all her skills to use in supporting Boaz, rather than trying to manipulate him.
“I laid out the cream silks, Crown Valide, if you prefer?” Elza offered, breaking into her thoughts.
Herezah could hear the servant’s disapproval. Normally she wouldn’t care what a mere handmaiden thought but she surprised herself by explaining. “No, the darker color is best, Elza. Should anything unpleasant occur today, I don’t want to make it easy for the Galinseans to show off my bloodied corpse, frightening our people.” She could see the surprise and unabashed respect in the woman’s reflection. “Let’s not fuss any further. This will do. You’ve hidden the jewels?”
Elza nodded. “As instructed. Everything we could find from your collection is now in a sealed box cunningly submerged in the Daramo.”
“Excellent. I don’t want them smashing those up to be divided among the Falza’s daughters.”
“How many does he have?”
“I don’t even know if he has one. I don’t care. Those belong in Percheron. Her waters can claim them if Boaz never returns to raise them.”
Bin suddenly burst through the doors. “Forgive me, Crown Valide. It has begun.”
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