Razeen sat on the plinth, the Crystal Pillars pulsing their colors around him, bathing him in light and warmth.
“My father never knew I knew of this place.”
We are sorry that you were forced to keep this secret from him.
All Lyana’s disciples have keenly felt the strain of not knowing who is friend or foe, of not having access to information. It was the only way to protect her this time.
“My father worships her. He committed his life to her.”
Without him, she would not have prevailed.
“He kept Ana safe.”
As no other mortal could. He chose the man who would raise her. He chose the man who would ultimately find her and buy her—without his whisperings in the right ears, Lazar would never have learned about the girl in the foothills. And when Ana was under most threat, it was your father who stepped in and removed her from those who might ultimately design her downfall. We needed the child. You know that. And now you know who needed to father that child. Everything was a risk.
Lyana could not always foresee how events would unfold. She can only choose her disciples with care. Their free will is always the unknown.
“My father would have succeeded in putting the child on the throne.”
Yes, that is likely true. But now someone else has.
“And I must do this? There is no other way?” he asked, head bowed.
You alone.
“You believe he is a danger now?”
He is. A new urge drives him. We cannot permit his threat to those who continue her work.
“And when it is done, what then?”
You must speak with Lazar. Tell him the truth and then return here. There are years to wait in solitude. And then you must fulfill your final task, the one you were born to accomplish.
“That one I most look forward to.”
We know.
“I shall go now. Farim waits patiently.”
The pillars glowed, hummed softly in farewell to the young man who left the cave with a heavy heart.
Maliz coughed out the old man’s spirit in a spume of blood and slumped to the stone floor, glad to be rid of Alzaria’s body, which lay in a crumpled heap nearby. Now his powers were almost nonexistent again and he felt that familiar sense of dislocation from the body he inhabited, when he was simply a presence within it, able to guide it but without much strength or magic. He was definitely in his dormant phase again but it made no sense and it was distressing him as nothing had before. He had felt Lyana’s rising, felt her very presence in the land, felt it by the powers that claimed him. And then they were gone, draining from him fast, leaving him just enough time to return to this Zarab-forsaken place where he must live as mortal in filth and squalor.
With Iridor at the bottom of the Faranel and Lyana no longer apparently of this earth, his time as the demon was done with for another cycle. He didn’t understand but he had held that child and there was nothing within it, not an ounce of power, not an iota of magic. A babbling, hungry, squalling infant was all that he had held in his arms. He had not killed Lyana. He had not even sighted her yet.
He leaned his wizened head back against the walls of the tiny alley in which he found himself and accepted his exhaustion. He needed to find food again. He needed to take care of this body as best he could. And he needed to lie low and wait, presumably for the next cycle. He twitched at the thought. Where had Lyana gone?
The awkward and false calm got the better of Falza. He had tried to wait it out but realized his broody son had only become better at maintaining difficult silences over the years.
He spoke in Galinsean to cut out the Percherese whore from the conversation. “Your mother had hoped to see you.”
Lazar lifted his stony gaze to the King. “I am sorry for your loss, Father. I know how much you loved her.”
“She died on enemy soil, blue of lip and gasping for breath in my arms, Lucien. That is no way for a queen of Galinsea to leave this earth.”
Lazar nodded. “No way indeed. The perpetrator will pay, that I promise you, but the Crown Valide is not the one who should take the punishment.”
“The Zar is ultimately responsible for his people’s actions. She was his regent and is answerable for the murderer.”
“And she will see to it that he is punished in a manner befitting his deed. But I will not permit you to take your vengeance out on her, or this city. You used me as the excuse to wage war and now you are using my mother as an excuse to commit regicide.”
“I came to avenge my son’s death.”
“I am, as you see, alive. There is nothing to avenge.”
“My wife—”
“Your wife died in battle, King Falza. If you had not wished to risk her life, you should never have brought her with you to Percheron amongst war galleys.”
“She came to see her son.”
“No, Father, she came to watch the Percherese humbled, to walk this palace and claim it as her own—a summer retreat, perhaps? I can hear her saying it. My mother was every bit the aggressor, alongside you. You both took the risk. She paid a heavy price for it.”
“You don’t even mourn her, do you?”
“Father, if you knew the number of people I have loved and lost these last moons, you would know that my mother’s passing is one among too many and I haven’t even begun my private grieving for any of them.”
Falza pointed at Herezah. “You put a Percherese slave above your mother, the Queen?”
“I put innocence above simple vengeance. This woman is innocent of what you claim. She is guilty of many things but I know she would not have knowingly threatened the stability or safety of Percheron.”
Falza lost patience with the words. “Despite all that has happened between us, we admired you, son. You are the heir of Galinsea! Can’t you—”
“I renounced my claim on the throne the last time we spoke to each other. I have not changed my position on it. I do not wish to rule Galinsea—I never have.”
“Then who, Lucien? Your brother, Aeron, is—”
Lazar lifted a hand to still his father’s words. “I have something to show you. Show her in,” he said to the Elim who had silently arrived at the doorway.
Everyone watched Harras enter, carrying a bundle that whimpered briefly before settling to sleep.
Lazar saw Herezah’s eyes flare with joy and his father’s brow crease with puzzlement. Lazar took the baby, flooded by an inexplicable wave of love for the child. First in Percherese he gave an order. “Everyone is to clear the room including archers and guards. Elim, you can remain outside the doors but everyone is to leave. Fret not, I can handle the King. You, also outside, please,” he said to Harras. He gave similar orders in Galinsean and the eleven or so enemy men were escorted from the chamber by Elim.
“What is this?” his father demanded.
“You will see,” Lazar said, waiting patiently for the last of the people to leave. “Wait until we’re alone,” he added, handing the child to Herezah, who gladly accepted the baby.
When they were finally alone, he switched to Percherese for Herezah’s benefit. “Father, this is Luc. He was born to Zaradine Ana, wife and Absolute Favorite of Zar Boaz.”
“He is an heir, so what?” his father grumbled.
“He is the only heir. The only potential next Zar of Percheron.”
“And why is this supposed to impress me?” Falza demanded.
“Because he is also your heir.”
“What?” Falza and Herezah asked together.
“This is my son. Ana was not pregnant by Boaz.”
“But—” The Crown Valide began to stutter.
Lazar gave her a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry, Herezah. It seems the royal marriage was never consummated. But I can assure you that Ana and I certainly did consummate our love for each other in the desert. She became pregnant by me. Both Boaz and Ana confirmed it, and one look at this child will tell you he is not your son’s.”
Herezah looked
distraught.
“Wait, let me finish,” he told her, stemming whatever tide of insults and recriminations he was sure she was preparing. “Father, I renounced my claim to the throne of Galinsea but I do not renounce Luc’s. He is your grandson and his veins run with the royal blood of Galinsea. From what I recall, my brothers, much as you love them, were never good material in your eyes for monarchs. And, sadly, as much as you detested me, I was always your firstborn and indeed first choice.”
“You were born to lead, Lucien, no matter our differences. Your mother always loved you, you know that.”
Lazar nodded. “Then here is my proposal. I am providing you with a way to withdraw peacefully from Percheron and save face. There need be no further bloodshed.”
“What is this proposal?” Falza said testily.
“Luc becomes Zar. He is also named your heir.”
“Preposterous!” Herezah exclaimed. “He is not a Zar! He is no—”
“And you are not a queen, Herezah. You are relegated now to slave. I could have the harem disbanded and you turned out later today and no one would argue and no one would mourn your departure. I offer you a proposal as well. Be Luc’s guide. No one knows Percherese politics better than you. He has no mother. Be the grandmother you would have been had you never known the truth of his parentage. You have an opportunity now to be the leader you’ve always wanted to be.”
“You mean rule until he is of an age?” she asked, aghast.
“I mean help to run the realm, yes. Be the regent that Percheron needs. The people know how courageous you’ve been these last few days. Build upon it. Win their favor, win their trust. But win it for him. He is Zar, not you. Raise him to be the ruler you would be if you were a man. Raise him to know that cunning you possess but to put it to better use. Raise him with all that knowledge of politics you possess. He could have no finer tutor if you accept this role properly.”
“I,” she stammered, clearly stunned. “You trust me?”
“I want to. Can I?”
“Yes! But what about you?”
“Oh, I shall be around. I have something I must do first. And then I have some journeys to make that concern neither Percheron nor Galinsea but must be done.”
“So the boy stays here?” Falza asked.
“Yes, he is Zar Luc now. And when you pass away, Father, he will be Zar Luc of Percheron and named as your successor, King of Galinsea. If you have a senior Galinsean noble’s daughter of an age, we can discuss a formal marriage to seal the realms in more than just word. I was thinking one of mother’s nieces’ children?”
Falza nodded thoughtfully. “I can think of two now who may suit and she seems to have all girls on her side; I am sure they will produce more females for us to choose from.”
“That is settled, then. You will send the Crown Valide a list of suitable names in due course and she will make that final decision.” He didn’t need to look at Herezah to know how much that pleased her. “She will see to all the necessary formal arrangements. Perhaps Marius could act as emissary between the two realms. Base him and Lorto here. They could learn the language and begin a new era of our two nations working closely.”
“I am impressed, Lucien.”
“That must be the first time, then, Father.” The two men shared a wry smile and Lazar continued: “I’m also suggesting that any of your soldiers, with no family ties to Galinsea, who wish to stay will be made welcome in Percheron. And perhaps you can offer the same courtesy? I can’t say how many Percherese might take up the offer to move to Galinsea but we can begin by relaxing all rules and indeed problems associated with trading. The sea routes and the desert route can be developed for a more open trading policy. Merchants will become the lifeblood between the two regions—they will lead the changes.”
“Lazar, how do we explain this to the people of Percheron, though? Luc may be of Galinsean royal blood, but he is not of the Zars’,” Herezah interjected.
“We don’t tell them.”
“You jest!”
“As far as the people of Percheron are concerned, Luc is the son of Boaz, the reason he courageously went into the desert to rescue his pregnant wife. And he becomes King of Galinsea because it is what we demanded in our peace treaty. No one but the three of us is ever to know the truth.”
“But you yourself said Luc couldn’t be my son’s child.”
“But he is clearly Ana’s. They may have their doubts but the truth is the people just want life to go back to normal with a Zar in the palace. In years to come they will have accepted him, no matter what the gossipmongers say.”
“I understand. Leave it to me. I will start promoting the story that Yozem did a blood telling and that Luc took none of his father’s looks, only qualities from his character.”
Lazar smiled briefly. “That’s right. Put that cunning to good use for the benefit of your people. Sometimes the truth need not to be told if it’s in the greater interest. The people may have their suspicions but it won’t matter in years to come when they have a royal marriage to celebrate across dynasties.”
“So the harem and the life of the Zar as we have known them will change, I see.”
“Yes. There will be no harem. Luc will marry a Galinsean bride and bind our realms. When he takes the Galinsean throne—pardon me, Father—he will be known as Emperor.”
“It will take time, Lazar.”
“We have time. There is one more important point that is part of this proposal.” Both Herezah and the King eyed him expectantly. “Both nations will formally accept the Goddess as their faith.”
Herezah looked at him quizzically. “It matters not to me but why would you ask this?”
“It will bind us closer still through faith. Father, Galinseans are closer to the Goddess’s way than Percheron but it still has a number of gods it pays homage to. Be the first King in a long time to unify your people in one faith. Herezah, Luc can do the same. His mother followed the Goddess and it was her disciples—the giants, the creatures once bound in stone—who came to our rescue. The Goddess heard our prayers and she answered them. Zarab does nothing for the people and this is about a fresh beginning. To embrace a new faith cannot happen quickly, I understand this, but it is new and can be a part of Luc’s legacy and indeed Boaz’s.”
“Boaz loved the Mother?” Herezah queried.
“Indeed he did,” Lazar answered truthfully. “Loved her since the moment he was first introduced to her,” and again Ana was reflected to him from the peaceful expression on her son’s sleeping face.
“That’s news to me.”
“I told you, you spent far more time plotting against his desires than listening to them. Learn about Lyana, Herezah. She was once the only faith of our region. Start the revolution today.”
There was silence as the three looked at one another, each waiting for the others to speak.
“That’s all,” Lazar concluded. “We can keep this simple. King Falza?”
The King of Galinsea nodded. “I am in agreement with your terms, Lucien. Marius will sit down with whoever you need to draw up the terms of this treaty.”
“Thank you. Herezah? Can you keep this secret and agree to its terms?”
“Yes. I wish no further war or even threat of it between ourselves and Galinsea.”
“Good. Then have the treaty drawn up, Herezah, for Falza and yourself to sign. It will declare you simply ‘Crown’ from hereon. You will act as regent for Zar Luc until he is of an age to fulfill his formal role.”
He saw Herezah barely control the shiver of delight at his words.
“What’s to stop her from simply saying yes now and ignoring your terms, Lucien?” his father demanded. “You intimate that she could not be trusted previously.”
“Father, Herezah will rise to this office. She will make us all proud. I’m sure of it.” He gave her a sideways glance and realized with a certain amount of sadness how much of her life had been wasted in the harem. She should always have been a queen. “Besid
es, I remain Spur and the army is loyal to my command.”
“You should come home sometime, Lucien.”
“I am home, Father.”
“All right. Let me invite you back to your homeland sometime. Bring your son. I’m sure our people would be thrilled to meet you both.”
“I’ll bring Herezah. The Galinseans should meet the person grooming their future king.”
“As you wish,” his father said. “So I presume I can return to my ship?”
“Your galley is untouched. You may return to Romea under your own banner, if you choose, as soon as the treaty is signed. Beloch and Ezram will no doubt agree to transport those who don’t wish to remain here back across the desert quickly.”
“How quickly?”
Lazar grinned. “Percheron to Romea in the time it might take Herezah to have her hair brushed.” His father’s complexion blanched. “Another reason not to pick a fight with Percheron again,” Lazar added, his smile widening. “And the best reason for us all to join their faith. They are of the Goddess.”
“Then she’s got my soul,” Falza said, irony lacing the King’s tone.
“I shall see you before you depart, Father. I need to speak with the giants.”
The King gave him a look of disbelief but simply turned to the new head of Percheron and bowed. “Well, you must forgive me my, er, indiscretion of earlier, Crown. Perhaps you would allow me to hold my grandson before I leave.”
“Of course, Falza. I’m only devastated that his grandmother could not bear witness to this happy day,” Hereza replied diplomatically. She glanced toward Lazar and he gave her what she had so long desired—his approval, with a nod and soft smile.
36
Outside, whilst the proud “grandparents” admired their new royal, Lazar found Captain Ghassal waiting.
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