Emissary

by Fiona McIntosh

  “She made a bargain with me.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered.

  “I’m to co-operate, help her with the others girls, especially on this boating trip.”

  “And?”

  “And if I promise not to try anything that breaks the harem rules, she’s going to let me out for a few hours of freedom.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m to be permitted into the city. Alone, save an Elim escort.”

  Pez stopped picking his nose and resisted the urge to stare at Ana in his anxiety. “She’s up to something.” He watched the beautiful odalisque do an unhurried circumference of a pond.

  “Such as?” she asked as she returned to pass by him.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, worried. “What else?”

  “I’m to be given a tutor to study Galinsean.”

  “You didn’t tell her you were fluent, did you?”

  “Hardly,” Ana replied, once again returning and passing him. “I didn’t give away much at all other than that I’ve been teaching myself.”

  Pez leaped down from the wall and took her hand, pretending to walk alongside her like one of the strange monkeys from the Zar’s zoo. “Ana, you have a gift of tongues.”

  “Like you.”

  “No, better than me,” he whispered, pausing briefly to stare at the sky and hoot loudly. “You speak Galinsean already better than any tutor—I hope you can lie your way through the lessons.”

  She sighed. “I will. It makes me feel closer to him.”

  Now Pez stopped, both from sorrow and the guilt of knowledge he did not share with her. He knew precisely to whom she referred. “This does not do you any good, Ana.”

  “Keep lurching beside me, Pez. Everyone is watching us and enjoying your antics,” she cautioned. As he turned a somersault, she continued. “Galinsean could be useful anyway,” she continued.

  He snorted. “What possible use could it be?”

  Ana shook her head in gentle capitulation. “None, I suppose. She wants me to learn Akresh as well.”

  “Now that is a practical suggestion.”

  “I wonder why she’s being nice.”

  “Herezah always has a reason for everything she does. Be suspicious at every turn, Ana. She fears you.”

  “Why?”

  Pez made a clicking sound of exasperation with his tongue. “Because Boaz adores you. Isn’t that obvious? The two of you meet often enough. You forget I’m usually there and hear you laughing with him.”

  “I have asked him not to single me out,” she countered.

  Pez decided it was time to careen around the courtyard like an angry monkey. When he charged nearby her, his back to the divan suite, he replied, “But still he does, whether you like it or not. His admiration is obvious…and he’s seventeen, Ana. Old enough. You must be ready for where his thoughts head now.”

  She scowled. “I love another,” she said, truly shocking him now into stillness, his expression betraying his complete understanding.

  He waddled over to where Ana stood and took her hand, heedless of any eyes watching, although grateful that they were too far away to be overheard. “This is not about love, child. This is about duty. An odalisque’s duty. As for the person you refer to, it is hopeless.” That was all he could say without revealing the terrible secret.

  “He’s dead, I know, but that doesn’t stop my heart aching for him, my mind remembering every single little item it can about him, my conscience reminding me that I am the reason he is no longer alive.”

  “Ana, stop!” Pez said, knowing tears were next and then raised eyebrows, should anyone notice. The other girls would then have to come outside to find out why she was crying. He dropped his voice. “This is foolhardy.” Pez cartwheeled away and then, back on his feet, he ran from the suite.

  “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT, Ana?” someone asked. “Did Pez upset you?”

  Ana turned. It was an exquisite girl called Sascha from the region of Akresh, a hilly realm to the east of Percheron famed for its sapphires. Her hair was the color of burnished copper and she had become something of a friend these past moons. Ana knew Sascha could see the tears in her eyes. It was best to go along with the idea that Pez ultimately upset everyone for one reason or another. “Yes, he was threatening to stone the monkeys in the zoo.”

  Sascha gave a pained expression. “Don’t believe him. You know he says stupid things all day long.”

  “He sounded so determined, I feel as though he’s rushed off to do the stoning now.”

  Sascha took Ana’s arm. “Pez is mad, Ana. Everyone knows that. He says anything and everything that comes into his head. Most of the time he’s amusing, I’ll admit, but sometimes he can be quite vicious…but I don’t think he even knows it himself.”

  Ana found a watery smile. “You’re right,” she said, squeezing the girl’s arm. “I shall ignore him.”

  “That’s the right way to treat him. Pez hates to be ignored and I’m sure to be ignored by you will wound him terribly.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Sascha gave her a soft look of exasperation. “Everyone can see how he loves you. You’re definitely his favorite.”

  Ana was tired of hearing that word. “Come on, we have to make preparations for our boat excursion,” she said, determined to keep her promise to the Valide.

  IRIDOR FLEW. PEZ WAS risking much in this flight, having received a request from the Zar to meet with him for the midday meal. Boaz was used to Pez’s unreliability, but as they hadn’t seen each other in several days now, a delay might make the Zar suspicious and Pez didn’t want him mentioning anything to the nosy Vizier.

  But he had to speak with Lazar. This was becoming a detestable situation. It was not so bad for Zafira—she did not have daily contact with Odalisque Ana. But Pez did, his blatant lying to the girl was well past the point of discomfort.

  He also needed time to think about Herezah’s latest move. What was she up to?

  He found Lazar in the small copse behind the cottage.

  “There you are,” he said, in his dwarf shape once again.

  “Greetings, Pez. Zafira said you planned to visit. Join me on my walk.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Pez asked, and grinned at the crease of confusion on Lazar’s forehead. “More like lurching.” It wasn’t true, of course; he was genuinely thrilled to see his friend moving so easily once again.

  “Be quiet, dwarf. You can hardly make fun with that strange waddle of yours,” Lazar replied. It was the first time in a year that Pez had heard Lazar say anything that was even remotely lighthearted. Considering that even as recently as three moons ago, the man had not been able to concentrate for any length of time, other than when gazing forlornly across the water, this was stunning progress. “You’ll take into account I don’t use sticks anymore,” he added, a note of triumph in his voice.

  “I do. I’m impressed, Lazar, truly,” Pez said.

  “One day I shall run again. I’ll even be able to overtake you,” Lazar said, warming to his subject now. The hint of amusement in his tone made Pez’s heart soar.

  “You fail to appreciate, friend cripple, that I fly with such grace I would leave you in my wake.”

  They both grinned. It felt to Pez as though they were crawling out of a dark tunnel. Because Lazar had been so ill, they hadn’t even had the opportunity on the two brief occasions they’d seen each other to talk about all that had occurred. Perhaps today was the day to have that discussion.

  “It’s good to have you back, Lazar,” he said.

  The former Spur sighed. “I made a decision last moon that I either give in to this affliction and hope the next attack kills me, or I fight back to complete health. I’m almost there.”

  “But you’re still in danger from unexpected attacks, right?” Pez asked.

  “According to Ellyana, I am. But the drezden will have to attack a fit body rather than a frail one. That’s my only defense.”


  Pez nodded, moved by the change in his friend’s mind-set He had always assumed it would arrive but as the year had drawn on, the dwarf had begun to question his faith in Lazar’s resilience. “That’s the spirit. And your hair is now its true color, I presume?”

  “Yes, just as yours is,” Lazar replied tartly, referring to the strange line of white hair that ran down one side of Pez’s head.

  “Ah, but my change makes me look even more odd than I ever did. But you, my friend, you look more handsome than ever.”

  Lazar gave a soft self-deprecating snort.

  Pez continued, waving his arms theatrically. “Now you look truly like a Galinsean Prince.”

  Lazar impaled him with those light eyes that gave him away as a foreigner. “It’s a relief not to have to color it anymore,” he said, and the sigh that followed was rich with secrets and family, pain and grief.

  “Such lengths to hide an identity.” Pez gave a sound of admonishment.

  “We are not so different, you and I,” Lazar reminded Pez. “You’ve feigned madness for decades to hide yours.”

  “Not to hide my identity,” Pez corrected.

  “Just your sanity, right?”

  Pez nodded. “And something else.” Despite his need to be back at the palace swiftly, he had promised himself that today he would at last share all his secrets with Lazar.

  His ambiguous statement captured Lazar’s attention. “Oh? What else have you been hiding from me?”

  Pez took a deep breath. “I have the Lore.” Lazar froze, his easy posture immediately tensing. Silently he stared at Pez for what felt like an eternity to Pez. “Say something,” the dwarf added, uncomfortable in the silence.

  His friend shook his head in wonder. “I thought I had you worked out, but you are full of surprises. I also thought the Lore was make-believe.”

  “It’s not.”

  “What does it mean for you?”

  “It means secrets, Lazar. It means hiding and constant anxiety about being found out. It means denying the call of the magic that is at my fingertips, which I refuse—most of the time, anyway—to even acknowledge.”

  Lazar moved to a nearby tree stump and sat down slowly. “Most of the time?”

  “I relented and used it twice recently. Before those two moments, I had resisted its call all my years in the palace.”

  “What happened?” Lazar asked.

  This was going to be the hardest bit, Pez knew. “Remember Kett?”

  Lazar’s eyes narrowed. “How can I forget?”

  “I was there. I was in the corridor with him when he was captured.”

  “What?”

  Pez nodded. He hesitated, then added, “So was Boaz.”

  Lazar stood and Pez could see the effort it took. He watched Lazar move awkwardly to lean against a nearby tree. “Tell me.” It was an order—just like the old Lazar.

  “I needed to divert Boaz’s attention. It was an impulsive decision. I thought he might like to see the girls being chosen for him.”

  “Wait,” Lazar interrupted. “Pez, I’ve known you a long time and I know you do nothing on a whim. Tell me the truth, all of it.”

  Pez sighed. Lazar was right. He should hear everything. “I can’t explain it, Lazar, and I know you won’t want to hear this, but I felt a calling toward Ana. I’d never met her, I didn’t know of her existence. But from the moment she entered the palace, I became aware of her, sensed the arrival of some sort of force or power.”

  Lazar looked bewildered. “Ana is enchanted?”

  “No,” Pez replied emphatically. Then he half smiled and shook his head. “Well, in truth, I don’t know. I sensed her. I needed to know what was calling to me so strongly. Until I saw Ana I had no idea it was a young woman. Anyway, I did need to divert Boaz, so I killed two birds with one stone, you could say. Sadly, we stumbled upon Kett, and without going into the details, suddenly all three of us were in the forbidden area. But if Kett hadn’t sneezed we’d have been safe.”

  “And when he did?”

  “I could only shepherd Boaz and myself.”

  “Shepherd?”

  “I made us invisible,” Pez explained sheepishly.

  Lazar said nothing. He stared at Pez openmouthed. Finally he said: “And the next time?”

  “To aid Boaz in facing Horz’s death. I simply channeled some strength to him.”

  “Strength?”

  Pez shrugged. “Courage. He was nervous, terrified that he would let us all down. Terrified that he wouldn’t be able to face the execution.”

  “I hear Horz was incredibly brave. Zafira tells me the city was abuzz with the news that he died without murmuring so much as a sound.”

  “He was a good man. He did not deserve to die badly, especially for a crime we both know he did not commit.”

  Lazar paused, and Pez could see the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle slotting into place. “And so you helped him, too,” the Spur said slowly.

  “Not using magic. I used the Lore on Boaz only.” Pez looked at his friend, uncomfortable and uncertain of Lazar’s reaction. “Do you believe me?”

  Lazar clamped his jaw shut and studied Pez for a long moment before answering. “Of course I believe you.” He laughed humorlessly. “You can change yourself into a bird, why not become invisible?”

  Pez didn’t react to the familiar bite of sarcasm. “The bird business is something entirely different—that has nothing to do with the Lore,” he assured Lazar.

  “I’m not sure I believe that, Pez. It’s probably because of the Lore, or because of what you possess, that you have been chosen to be Iridor. I can’t believe I say that so blithely. Iridor! Messenger to Lyana!” Lazar shook his head. “And your connection to Ana is real—we know that now. It can’t be coincidence.” He made a sound of disgust as he banged the tree trunk with his open hand. “I feel as though we’re pieces in some grand game, being manipulated toward some final goal.”

  Pez nodded. “I feel the same way, Lazar. I used to think I had complete control of myself and my life; the deception of madness was all part of that control. But ever since Ellyana appeared to me and saw through my clever disguise, I’ve felt as though someone else is orchestrating things.”

  It was Lazar’s turn to nod. “Ellyana knows,” he said sagely. “She just didn’t bother telling us before she vanished.” He sat down again. “What news from the city?”

  “Plenty. It’s why I’m here unexpectedly.”

  “So, tell me.”

  “Who first?”

  “Ana.”

  No surprises with that answer. Pez had promised himself he would be honest. “She’s more beautiful and graceful than ever. She’s also still filled with sorrow. She can’t move past the notion that she is to blame for your death. It’s getting worse rather than better. It is unbearable to be around her, I have to tell you. A year on and none of her grief has eased.”

  Lazar looked at Pez sharply. “You did not—”

  “No, I didn’t!” Pez replied. “Though I have to say: one moment I wonder why we are keeping this charade going, and the next agonizing over what it will do to her to discover that you aren’t dead.”

  Lazar looked pained and Pez could tell the former Spur was as uncertain about this decision as he himself felt. “Hopefully she will never learn the truth. Ellyana wanted to preserve the secret.”

  “Ellyana wanted a lot of things but she gave us no reasons for any of it,” Pez returned caustically. “Why is Ellyana in charge of us? Why does she still orchestrate us? She’s not even here.”

  “Pez, you yourself admit that she was touched by a powerful magic. Don’t you remember saying that to me?” The dwarf grimaced and kept a grumpy silence. “Well, do you?” Lazar prompted.

  Pez relented. “I do.”

  “Then you and she are inextricably tied—you both possess enchantment. I’ve seen her abilities with my own eyes. She was definitely the same woman that Ana and I met in the market that first night in Percheron. And I maintain that m
y eyes did not deceive me: I bought Ana a simple gold chain. But when Ellyana handed it to Ana it had turned into an image of Iridor. You tell us she visited you in the harem, one moment an old crone, the next a fresh-faced young woman.”

  “All true.”

  “And now you have a new and happy knack of transforming yourself into an owl and I believe it as though it’s the most normal thing in my day.”

  “Magnificent, aren’t I,” Pez said.

  “Annoying as well,” Lazar said.

  “There’s nothing normal about your days,” Pez retaliated sulkily.

  Lazar ignored Pez’s gripe. “As I was saying, I have no doubt that you and she are linked. And then Zafira and myself are linked through both of you. We’re the pieces in Ellyana’s game, you might say.”

  Pez nodded in agreement, his heavy brow creased in thought. “There is another.”

  “Another pawn?” Lazar asked, and Pez nodded. “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but I feel him. I also feel that he’s more than a mere pawn.”

  “Him?”

  Pez shrugged. He wasn’t ready to discuss this. “I think it’s a him. When I was talking with Boaz after Kett’s unfortunate capture, I felt a disruption in the Lore. Someone was eavesdropping on our conversation and that person was not around in the flesh.”

  “More magic?” Lazar asked, gawping.

  Pez nodded. “I believe so.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Took instant precaution. Fortunately my ‘madness’ is my best protection and of course Boaz is used to me suddenly acting the lunatic. I wrote him a note telling him to hold his tongue, that we were being listened to.”

  Lazar’s eyes widened as he made the leap. “You told Boaz about the Lore.”

  “I had to—he wasn’t going to let me get away with the shepherding trick without an explanation. But although he might have forgotten my caution over the eavesdropper, I haven’t.”

  Lazar sighed. “Who do you think it was? Is there someone else in the palace with the Lore, or some sort of power? Either be direct or stop alluding to a threat I don’t understand.”