Emissary

by Fiona McIntosh

  Boaz nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You mentioned a change in the guard not so long ago. I presume you now have an idea to share?”

  “Yes, Majesty. I am proposing an elite group of strong young men who will permanently be at your side, so to speak.”

  “How many?”

  “At least a dozen on call so I can ensure a ring of men in and around your chambers or wherever you are, every minute of the day.”

  “This began as food tasters in the kitchens, Tariq. Now you’re suggesting they all but live with me? I fear I will find your measures claustrophobic.”

  Maliz nodded, hoping to convey a tone of unfortunate resignation. “At least one will sleep near your bedside, Highness.”

  “No!” Boaz said. “Absolutely not. How uncomfortable will my life be if they can hear everything I say, repeat it to their companions and—”

  Maliz raised a hand gently but the smile on his face had a malevolent quality to it. “Hear me out, Majesty.”

  Boaz’s expression suggested he couldn’t imagine what the Vizier could possibly say to change his mind, but he nodded for Maliz to continue.

  Maliz inclined his head in gratitude. “I am proposing that this elite corps will be highly trained and very capable of killing whoever might overstep the cordon without permission.” He paused dramatically. “But they will also be deaf mutes.”

  Now Boaz looked startled. “To a man? How do we train them? How do we instruct them? How do we find that many brilliant warriors?”

  Maliz tutted, and Boaz raised his eyebrows in irritation. The demon realized he must be on guard at all times against his own impatience showing through, must constantly remember that he was still Tariq to all who met him. He bowed. “Forgive me, Zar. I did not explain this well. The men will be hand selected for their fighting prowess and ability to follow orders using signals. Once we have selected them, and trained them fully in their roles, they will be made deaf and rendered mute.” He stressed the final five words.

  Boaz opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He took a moment or two to gather himself. “You will maim healthy men for this role?”

  “Yes,” the Vizier said simply.

  “But that’s barbaric.”

  “I care not for how we make them, Majesty. I care only that we protect your life to the best of our ability. I know if Lazar were sharing this conversation with us now, he would agree in principle with what I’m proposing.”

  “Then that shows how well you did not know the man, Tariq,” Boaz countered firmly. “I assure you Lazar would never condone such injury to a warrior.”

  “Lazar would not allow his Zar to be under any threat,” Maliz replied, unfazed.

  “Well, am I?”

  “Pardon, Majesty?”

  Boaz frowned. “Has a direct threat been detected?”

  Maliz considered lying, then opted not to. “No, Highness, but these are different times from the ones your father lived through. None of your enemies could know how capable you are. They imagine a youth, vulnerable, easily killed or deposed. Perhaps spies have reported the death of your Spur. That puts you even more at risk. Furthermore, Percheron has never been more vital as a critical trading point between east and west. I suspect that if we are going to be attacked, it will happen during the early years of your reign, Highness. We must think ahead, be prepared.”

  “All speculation,” Boaz dismissed.

  “But that’s my job, Zar Boaz. I must anticipate all scenarios. And without the Spur, I feel compelled to offer higher protection than we currently have.” He could see Boaz tiring of the conversation, so he pushed once more. “I shall keep it to just a few men if that makes it easier on your conscience, my Zar.”

  “Then I insist they must take their roles willingly.”

  Maliz couldn’t help the bemusement that spread across Tariq’s face. “To be willingly made deaf and mute?”

  “Or I won’t allow it. Offer them and their families gold in exchange for the maiming. Be generous. If you insist upon this course, then I will set the parameters. I will also approve each man before the maiming takes place.”

  Maliz smiled inwardly. He had won. “As you wish, my Zar,” he said obediently, and bowed his head. He could now have the Zar constantly observed—and, perhaps more importantly, he could keep an eye on the dwarf, whom he firmly suspected to be an enemy of Zarab.

  3

  The Valide sipped the fruit infusion she took each morning, maintaining it kept her complexion unlined and unblemished. “And what did he want to see him about?” she asked her guest as she put the porcelain cup down beside her. She was simply making conversation, for she couldn’t trouble herself with every discussion that her son had with the reinvented Tariq.

  “I don’t know, Valide,” Salmeo admitted. “I thought you might.”

  “Boaz doesn’t include me in his decisions anymore—certainly not in recent times. As he looks like a man now, he thinks like one, too,” she said, and he heard the not-so-well disguised sorrow in her voice.

  “Then he’ll be acting like one soon,” Salmeo replied, knowing the Valide would understand his innuendo.

  “He’ll choose her first,” she warned.

  It was not something the Grand Master Eunuch needed to be told. “We can’t stop that.”

  “She’s dangerous, Salmeo. I made a mistake in choosing Ana. I should have let Lazar have his little girl.”

  “I’m not sure anything used to simmer in Lazar for anyone,” he commented, always glad to be reminded of the Spur’s demise.

  “If you were a woman you’d understand,” Herezah replied caustically. “He didn’t just simmer for her; he was feverish. But he arrogantly thought he hid it. From me!” She shook her mane of hair, which had lost none of its black glossiness even though she was now past her third decade. “I’ll never understand why he even brought her through those palace gates if he was so infatuated with the child.”

  Salmeo understood instantly that none of the Valide’s own fiery infatuation with the long-dead Spur had cooled.

  It surprised him that even after all this time she burned so fiercely for the soldier, or at least the memory of him. She had not mentioned Lazar’s name to him since the day his “murderer,” Horz, had been executed—after being accused of poisoning the whip used to flog and ultimately kill the Spur. Horz was dead and forgotten, but not so Spur Lazar—it seemed his memory would never die, and certainly not for the Valide. He stored the thought away.

  The Valide was not an enemy but she could be. That accepted, Salmeo had long ago realized that his fate was tied up with the Valide. There would never be any opportunity to ingratiate himself with the new Zar—it was all too obvious what the young ruler felt toward his keeper of the harem—but Salmeo did have a chance with Herezah. As distant as Boaz might have made himself from his mother, he was still of her blood and would see no wrong done to her.

  If I can remain her ally, Salmeo thought, I might buy my own protection should the truth of my involvement in Lazar’s death come out. He didn’t think it would. Having successfully blackmailed Horz into taking the blame, Salmeo felt his secret was safe, once Horz’s corpse had been left to rot on the impaling post outside the palace. But he also knew in his heart that the Zar believed he was at the root of the Spur’s mysterious death. Boaz would be looking for anything that might connect Salmeo with wrong-doing; staying close to the Valide, pandering to her needs and making himself indispensable to her machinations, might be that extra insurance the eunuch needed.

  He deeply regretted that rare moment of spite in which he had impulsively allowed his anger to overtake his common sense. Poisoning the whip that would ultimately flog the Spur had been effective but ultimately perilous. Yes, it killed the proud, arrogant soldier who had become such an impediment to Salmeo’s plans to dominate Odalisque Ana—but was his death really necessary? No, he thought, it was stupidly reckless, and although blame had been laid elsewhere through some swift manipulations, it had almost
found him and wrapped itself about his own shoulders. Salmeo suddenly realized the Valide had been watching him whilst he mused, no doubt waiting for a response to her grumbling over Ana.

  “I could just have her killed, Valide. She could accidentally slip or mysteriously drown—the boating excursion provides a marvelous opportunity. I could even manufacture a culprit if you deemed it necessary.” He did not look her in the eye, but simply waited patiently for her response. He guessed his suggestion sent a flare of hope torching through Herezah’s body. The thought of the young odalisque who was rapidly shaping herself as the Zar’s Favorite disappearing from the harem was a daydream he suspected the Valide permitted herself. Ana was a threat to her. The Valide had not anticipated Boaz taking on the challenge of being a Zar quite so swiftly; she had hoped he would accept the role in title only and then return to his more studious pursuits, giving her free rein to essentially run the realm. Salmeo suspected that her intention had always been to involve her son, probably holding meetings over supper each evening to discuss the day’s affairs as though she was consulting with him. Herezah was too clever not to factor in male pride and Salmeo knew she would be more than happy to continue the pretense that a new Zar was confidently on his throne whilst she herself pulled all the strings of the puppet ruler.

  But it was not to be. For all her cunning and clever ways, Herezah simply hadn’t counted on her once shy, slightly withdrawn son first embracing his new role and then shouldering it with dignity, and now living it with a real sense of purpose. Now she was paying the price of raising a well-educated son who had never been allowed to shirk a sense of duty.

  Herezah could live with this mature Boaz. She could carve out new powers for herself. But what she couldn’t abide, Salmeo knew, was the profound effect Ana was having on her son. Ana and her speedy rise in the Zar’s estimation threatened to kill off any aspirations that the Valide still held for herself.

  Nothing had occurred sexually between Ana and the Zar yet, Salmeo knew, but they had a bond, for certain. It had formed when the girl had first been brought to the palace—she had been lonely and vulnerable, whilst Boaz was uncertain and fearful of his new role as Zar. Herezah had only herself to blame for not having paid sufficient attention to her son’s emotions at that time. Boaz had genuinely grieved for the loss of his father, whilst Herezah had expected him to get over the death quickly and find an excitement similar to hers at their new status—Valide and Zar.

  Of course her mistake had been in imagining that ambition would somehow naturally override Boaz’s love and grief for his father, and her expectations of her son had been interpreted by him as heartlessness, Salmeo deduced. The eunuch appreciated that Herezah was right to expect Boaz to show no weakness, to pick up his father’s mantle—overnight—in order to establish his rule. But from what he could tell, it remained an unspoken rift between the Zar and his mother.

  Salmeo slipped one of the violet tablets he habitually sucked into his mouth and raised his eyebrows at the Valide, awaiting her answer to his offer.

  “Too risky,” she said finally. “Any number of things could go wrong. No, Ana needs to be entrapped by her own doing.”

  “I don’t follow, Valide,” he said, intrigued, lacing his fat, be-jeweled fingers together.

  She picked up her cup again and sipped slowly. “Ana is by far the smartest odalisque in the harem, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I would. Most of the others seem to look to her for leadership, I note.”

  Herezah frowned. “Hmm. You see, that in itself is a declaration of her intentions.”

  Salmeo disagreed. “To be honest, Valide, I think Ana would be happier if she had less attention. She’s a strange sort of a girl—very contained, seems to need no one, and yet she’s the very person most of them look to for friendship or comfort.”

  “Is it just the younger ones?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. She’s a natural leader. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that the entire harem adores her.”

  Herezah smirked. “That will change.”

  Salmeo’s mind moved quickly with the Valide’s. “When Boaz begins choosing his sexual partners, you mean?”

  “The moment my son starts singling out girls for his romantic attention, those chosen will be the target of hate from all the others.”

  “Then Ana will be despised, for I have no doubt that she will be Absolute Favorite.”

  Herezah slammed down her cup and Salmeo wondered if he didn’t hear it crack with protest at such treatment. “That is my very point! She must be undone before she attains such a position.”

  Salmeo stifled the smile he was privately enjoying at the Valide’s insecurity. Herezah might consider herself powerful, but she was clearly not feeling terribly powerful right now, with her son so independent and a slip of a girl about to claim the single most prized position in the harem for an odalisque, and one that would ultimately threaten the Valide’s future. “You were telling me how we might undo such aspirations,” he said, calming her.

  Herezah took a deep breath. “We agree she’s clever, so we must use that intelligence against her. I’ll wager she is bored?”

  “Senseless,” he confirmed. “She hates the harem, as you would guess. She is not interested in anything it offers, from its decadence to its pampering or its riches. She couldn’t be less interested in any of it.”

  “Good. Let’s keep her bored and frustrated.” The Valide sipped her drink, taking a few moments to organize her thoughts. Salmeo knew to remain quiet during her pause.

  “This boat trip you want my involvement with, when is it planned for?”

  “Soon—in several days, I imagine.”

  “Even better. That will give her a taste of freedom. And her imprisonment back in the harem afterward will feel all the more smothering. Let’s plan some tedious training in the meantime, shall we?”

  “Embroidery?”

  She groaned, presumably remembering her own hours of soul-destroying boredom spent with needle and silk. “Precisely, and letters. No swimming or outside walks. Keep it all indoors, especially now whilst the sun is shining with its promise of summer.”

  “And?” He knew the crux of her plan was yet to be revealed.

  “We’ll make it easy for her to try an escape.”

  Salmeo made a soft sound of disbelief. “Do you really think she’d disobey the most important rule of the harem?”

  “She did it once before,” Herezah replied, tapping her teeth with a bloodred painted fingernail…a habit Salmeo knew she couldn’t help when in deep thought.

  Salmeo wasn’t convinced. “She had hardly arrived then and we’d just inflicted the Test of Virtue on her.”

  “She’s a year older, a year bolder, and a year more bored with her life. She’s ripe to make another attempt. She just needs a push.”

  “You speak with knowledge, Valide,” Salmeo commented.

  “I fought the urge every day of my life, eunuch; I sometimes think I still do,” Herezah said, unable to disguise a slightly wistful note in her tone. “But Ana believes she has the ear of the Zar and his indulgence. She’ll risk it, I promise…and just in case, I might sow the right seeds in her mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “Send her to me today. I think I’ll be giving her some responsibility in the harem. It’s time anyway that the girls take on some special roles, but I’ll endow Ana with the most trust…confide a few things in her.”

  “Let her think you might be friends?”

  Herezah shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. Ana’s too much of an island, but perhaps some fragile bridges might be built.”

  “And then what, Valide?”

  “I’ll tear them down and expose her. What is the harshest punishment for leaving the harem?”

  “Lashes…you’d remember that from Ana’s previous attempt at escape. But this time there’ll be no Spur Lazar to twist the rules and take the strokes on her behalf.”

  “Is that the best we can
do?”

  “Well, being caught unveiled, perhaps in the company of a man, would certainly increase the punishment,” he considered, enjoying where this conversation was headed.

  “To what?”

  “Death.” He said it coldly, without hesitation, and saw how the word appealed to her by the involuntary twitch at the corner of her mouth. He loved it.

  “Mandatory?”

  He nodded confidently. “Drowning in the Daramo is the easiest escape. I’m not sure anyone could save her then, bar an extraordinary set of circumstances.”

  “Such as?” Herezah demanded.

  Salmeo shrugged his huge shoulders as he considered. Then he held his great hands out, his palms shockingly pale pink against his black skin. “I simply can’t imagine what, Valide.”

  Herezah smiled. “Excellent. That’s what I want you to arrange, Salmeo.”

  “You want me to bring about her death, Valide?” he queried innocently, making it unequivocally clear between them what was being planned and who was giving the orders.

  The Valide held his gaze and spoke slowly, directly. “I want you to ensure she is somehow found in that unforgivable position you suggested and cannot be saved from the consequences. The rest is up to the laws of our harem.”

  “And the Zar, Valide, what of his interests?”

  She frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean, Salmeo?”

  “Only that if he were on our side it would be easier to manipulate the law in our favor,” he said gently, his eyes heavy-lidded, spicing his tone with intrigue.

  Herezah sighed. “Boaz, unfortunately, will not be our pawn. As I have said, he has become a man these past thirteen or so moons and he will not be manipulated easily.”