Emissary

by Fiona McIntosh

  “Is the dwarf Iridor?” he demanded, leaning close to her bloodied face.

  “No,” she croaked, her tone filled with derision. “The dwarf is an idiot, as you well know. I will never tell you who Iridor is, but he is hunting you as we speak, Maliz, and more’s the pity I won’t live long enough to tell him who you are.” She rattled a cough that sounded like death arriving.

  A new thought struck Maliz, and as distasteful as it was, the destruction of Lyana overrode everything. “Zafira, before you leave this plane, I’m thinking I should send you to the bitch goddess with my seed running down your thighs. An intriguing irony for a virginal priestess of Lyana, don’t you think?”

  At this, her eyes flew open and he knew he had hit on the right threat. He reached for her robes and began lifting them. “No one comes here, Priestess. No one will rescue you from this. No one but me, that is.”

  Her robes were already pulled above her knees, revealing her withered thighs. Distasteful as Maliz found her body, he knew this threat was the one thing that might loosen her tongue. “I know you wanted to go to your goddess the virgin you were when you gave yourself to her. But I’m afraid I’ve got a rush of blood at having roughed you up, Zafira. I feel a strong desire to release that pent-up lust…and sadly for both of us, you’re the closest thing.”

  He pressed his point by climbing on top of her, Zafira’s weak attempts to push him off laughable. He ripped open her robes to reveal her wrinkled and naked body.

  “Not very attractive, Zafira, but it will have to do,” he said, reaching to loosen the top of his trousers.

  “No,” she begged. “Do not desecrate me or her temple.”

  “One word will do it, Priestess.”

  “I do not know who she is,” she pleaded now, terror in her voice. “I promise you, I know not who is Lyana’s vessel.”

  He believed her. In his experience it was too early for Lyana to have fully come into her new incarnation. “One word, Zafira,” he repeated.

  “What word?”

  “Who is Iridor? Speak his name and I will finish you off quickly.”

  “No rape?”

  He shook his head. “A single word.”

  She nodded, closed her eyes, and he watched her breathe a short prayer begging forgiveness. Then she opened her eyes and said the name he had been waiting to hear.

  It did not surprise him. But it did enrage him.

  14

  Ana had lost sense of time and place. She had heard some voices—men’s voices—and presumed the guards were moving them through the various gates, although she had no idea which. All she knew was the swaying rhythm of Kett’s hurried movements, and just moments ago she’d felt herself tip dangerously forward, but her heart had leaped at this sudden movement—first in fear and then in hope. Surely this meant they were free of the palace, moving downhill toward the bazaar. Still, she didn’t dare make any sound…not yet.

  Kett had broken into a jog. She presumed she must be feeling unbearably heavy and he must see his destination, she thought, for him to be risking breaking into a run. Within moments she felt herself dropping and then hitting the ground hard. Fortunately the fabrics in the bundle around her cushioned her fall.

  Ana could hear Kett’s labored breathing. Still she waited until he opened the bundle before she said anything, for she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t simply dropped her from exhaustion.

  “Miss Ana!” he hissed. “Are you hurt?” The familiar eyes behind the dark veils were filled with concern.

  “Are we safe?” she risked asking.

  He nodded. “For a short while. Did I hurt you?”

  “No, Kett. You’ve saved my life.” She sprang to her feet and hugged him, ripping off his veil so she could look upon his sweet, trusting face. “Such a risk you took.” She shook her head and began kissing his cheeks.

  He was still breathing hard but managed to laugh. “Hush, Miss Ana. We’re not that safe!”

  “I’ve got to get out of these clothes, Kett. Have you got anything? Where are we?”

  “I have everything already arranged. Behind those big olive jars are some ordinary street clothes. Make sure you are fully veiled or that hair will give you away, Miss Ana.”

  They had shared too much nakedness already for her to fret about her lack of modesty; and she quickly ripped off her silken blue robes. After undoing the jewelery about her neck, she held it out to Kett. “You take this and my bracelets.”

  “I don’t want—”

  She ignored his protests. “Don’t sell it here. They’re too recognizable. And I can’t have them about me.” When he still looked doubtful, she added: “Give them away if you want, but not here.” He nodded. She piled the jewelery into his cupped hands. “Use the gold to pay off whomever you have to.”

  “I don’t have to pay anyone.”

  She frowned as she pulled on the street clothes. “What do you mean?”

  “I couldn’t tell you in the palace. But when I came to the bazaar looking for that friend I told you about, I was stopped by a woman. She was very young and beautiful. She asked me not to use the corrupt bundle woman but to go in disguise myself.”

  “And you did, just like that?”

  Kett smiled. “She was very persuasive. She named me—knew who I was, and who I represent.”

  “Who you represent?”

  “I am the Raven, Miss Ana. The black bird of sorrows.”

  “You said something similar earlier. What does that mean?” she asked as she smoothed down her clothes. Reaching for the veil, she held the thin fabric between her fingers.

  He shrugged, began pulling off his skirts until he stood naked save for his loincloth. “I don’t know, to be honest. All I know is that I serve her. Lyana will guide me.”

  Ana looked up sharply. “Lyana?”

  “You, Miss Ana. I serve Lyana through serving you.” The slave smiled.

  “Kett, I—”

  “No. Let’s not talk about it. We both serve Lyana, we each have our role to play. I don’t know what being the black bird means, although the lady seemed to look sad for me as we spoke. Perhaps that’s why I’m the bird of sorrows.”

  Ana shook her head, still bafffled. “What was this woman’s name? Did she tell you?”

  “She called herself Ellyana. And I could refuse her nothing. We must hide all the clothes,” he warned.

  She nodded, understanding now. “I’m still frightened by the risk you took,” Ana persisted. “Promise me you will leave the city tonight, Kett, as I must.”

  “It’s a pity we can’t leave together.”

  “I know, but it’s too dangerous. And if I get caught I don’t want you caught with me.”

  “You won’t get caught, Miss Ana. Where are you going?”

  “Get dressed, Kett. I’m going west, getting as far away from Percheron as I can. What about you? Any ideas?”

  He was pulling his trousers on. “No plan. Like you, as far away from here as possible. My mother has people in the desert caravans—perhaps I can join them.”

  She shook her head. “No, Kett! You cannot turn to anyone who knows you or your family. Do you hear me? Salmeo will find you and he will kill everyone you love. Go in the opposite direction. Go east. Get on a ship and sail away from here. You have a fortune in jewelry. Sell it wisely and you will be a made man.” She stumbled over the last two words, embarrassed by her verbal clumsiness.

  Kett graciously let it pass, looking down as he reached for his shirt. “And so we shall never see each other again.”

  She shook her head, a sad smile on her mouth. Before she put her veil on and before he could pull his shirt on, she reached up to take his face, and putting her lips against his, she kissed him long and softly. There was no desire in it, only sincere friendship and gratitude.

  At a noise behind them, they pulled apart. Ana felt as though her insides had turned instantly to water. Standing in the space where a curtain had only moments ago kept their secret stood Salmeo, surrounded by his
Elim, and a horrified-looking Valide.

  “Get them,” was all Salmeo said. Herezah said nothing, but her look of pure hatred spoke volumes.

  PEZ WAS ARGUING WITH Bin.

  “Must see my Zar!” he said, stamping his foot. “He has my butterflies.”

  “Pez,” Bin said calmly. “I’ve explained that he does not want to see you. He will call you when he does. He is preparing to meet with Odalisque—”

  Bin was unable to say any more. Pez had begun one of his infamous screaming sessions.

  Bin backed away, unsure of what to do. Pez fell to the ground, writhing, the intensity of his shrieks becoming increasingly piercing. One of the mutes happened to look outside the door to summon Bin and frowned when he saw the dwarf on the ground.

  “I wish I were deaf like you, Salazin,” Bin murmured to himself, nodding expectantly at the mute. Salazin signaled that the Zar wished to see him.

  “Thank you,” Bin gestured, then shrugged his shoulders toward Pez, suggesting that he was lost as to what to do with the dwarf.

  Salazin came into the vestibule where the Zar’s secretary worked and walked toward the writhing creature on the floor. He pinned the dwarf ’s short arms behind him and lifted him easily, shaking him like a doll to be quiet.

  Pez stopped his noise and Bin sighed, relieved. “Thank you again, Salazin,” he said again using the practiced sign language to say he didn’t know how he was going to stop Pez.

  Salazin pointed to the Zar’s chambers questioningly.

  Bin shook his head quickly. “No.”

  The mute put the dwarf down, and Pez remained mercifully silent as the mute signed with his fingers that it would be a good thing for the Zar and his pet to be friends again.

  Bin sighed. Gave a look of resignation. He signed: It’s your throat. I’ll deny I had anything to do with this.

  Salazin grinned. He picked Pez up again, as if he weighed nothing, and strode into the room, Bin running behind and making merry protest for the Zar’s benefit.

  BOAZ WAS IN HIS dressing chamber. One other mute was in attendance whilst the Zar’s dresser fussed over the outfit that had been chosen for the Zar to greet his First Virgin in.

  At the interruption, the Zar glared at Bin and then at Pez, who again stayed silent. Bin bowed, as did Salazin.

  “I couldn’t stop him, Majesty. Pez arrived and was making a dreadful noise outside—only Salazin was spared the blood curdling shrieks—and although I said you did not wish to see Pez, Salazin believed you might.”

  “It’s important,” Pez whined, picking his nose. He was also tapping his foot. Despite his annoyance, Boaz couldn’t ignore the sign. Long ago the two of them had worked out a code using physical signals to communicate simple messages. They’d employed it throughout Boaz’s childhood, and although it hadn’t been used in over a year, Boaz felt the sentimental pull at his heartstrings and his instant response to Pez’s tension—he could not ignore the urgent plea, no matter how angry he still was at Pez. Boaz maintained his stony silence until everyone felt the discomfort. Finally he slapped away the dresser’s hand. “I’m ready,” he said. The man bowed, knowing he had just been dismissed.

  Bin continued his lament. “Forgive me, Zar Boaz. Salazin just picked up the dwarf and brought him in.”

  Boaz signed a query to Salazin. He, Bin, and the Vizier were the only people permitted to know the secret signing language and each was proficient in it now, although Boaz was by far the most adept at using this challenging form of communication. Sometimes the mutes themselves didn’t know what he was asking when the speed of his hands became too quick for them to follow—all but one, that is.

  Salazin answered, his fingers moving as fast as Boaz’s. Because, Majesty, this is your great friend, as I understand it, and I think he will die of heartbreak soon if he can’t be with you.

  I said not until I summoned him. Do you defy me, Salazin?

  No, High One. I care deeply for your happiness and I know Pez makes you smile. Even a dog could be forgiven an indiscretion by its master, Majesty. This is a special night for you. Let it be a happy one.

  Salazin is a clever one, Boaz thought wryly to himself. Tariq picked wisely. The truth was, Boaz really liked having Salazin around. The young man’s presence was always comforting and indeed calming. He never communicated unless spoken to and had a knack for disappearing into the room they were in. There were times when Boaz could forget the warrior was nearby and yet the mute was always alert, always ready to leap to the Zar’s needs. Yes, he liked Salazin immensely.

  Forgiving the mute the interruption, he nodded decisively. “Leave us,” he finally said. “I will speak with Pez.”

  Salazin nodded, understanding the response even without hearing the words. Bin bowed, obviously relieved.

  The Zar spoke directly to his mutes now through sign language. I want privacy with Pez. You can wait outside.

  The men nodded, bowed, and left.

  “Thank you,” Pez said tentatively into the silence after the door closed.

  “I suppose you put on one of your shows out there?” Boaz said absently, looking at himself in the tall glass.

  “The best,” Pez agreed.

  “I told you to wait until I wished to see you.”

  “That might have been never, my Zar.”

  “And so what if it was?” Boaz replied, determined not to let Pez have his clever way and quickly ingratiate himself. He was still furious with the dwarf for challenging him.

  “Well, then, I would not be able to give you the important news I have discovered.”

  “Which is?” Boaz said, yawning in feigned boredom.

  “Lazar is alive,” Pez said flatly.

  Boaz swung around to face the dwarf. Disbelief, anger, and hope warred within him.

  Pez hurried to explain. “It has all been a ruse, Highness…but not of Lazar’s doing and not of mine. Lazar nearly died, it’s true. But I’ve found him. I’ve been looking for him on your behalf since I first heard the unbelievable news of his death.”

  “You’ve been looking for him?” Boaz’s voice was soft, uncertain, almost apologetic.

  “It’s why I kept leaving the palace, my Zar. I never trusted the information we were told, even though the priestess is a friend of mine. Lazar might well have perished—but he would not have had his body committed to the sea. He was a man of the desert. That’s where he would wish to lie, not on the bottom of the Faranel.”

  Boaz felt shaken, knew he must look unsteady. “Why didn’t you share your mistrust?”

  “You’ve never really given me a chance. We rarely get time alone anymore, Highness, and it is not something I could just drop into casual conversation. I needed to be sure.”

  “What about Jumo?”

  Pez shrugged. “Another victim of the lie.”

  “Where have you found Lazar?”

  “He has been recuperating on Star Island.”

  Boaz’s eyes widened in shock. “How did you know?”

  “A wild guess, Zar Boaz. None of us truly believed he might be there, but, yes, perhaps we should have checked. In the end I did, on your behalf.”

  “Well…” Boaz spluttered, unsure of what to say. He had a hundred questions, Pez could see.

  The dwarf held up his gnarled hand. “He has been very sick. Deathly sick, unable to fend for himself. That’s why it’s taken so long for us to learn the truth. It took weeks for him to find full consciousness again, months to move without help. A year before he could walk unaided. That’s how the priestess was able to spin her terrible tale. Lazar was unable to defend himself.”

  “But why did Zafira lie?” Boaz asked, aghast. He had trusted the old priestess, liked her.

  “You will have to ask her that, my Zar. I am as injured as you by her lies.”

  Boaz felt utterly confused. “But with all her efforts she saved his life, didn’t she?”

  “She did. Why she would tell you he was dead when she alone nursed him back to health, I cann
ot say, although I have my suspicions.”

  “Which are?”

  “Well, there is no doubt someone wanted Lazar dead—that someone tried to poison him. I’m guessing Zafira went down this extraordinarily mysterious path in order to protect him. She let the murderer believe that he had succeeded, and this gave her time to nurse him back to full health.”

  “But if she’d come to me—”

  “Ah, but there was, to all intents, a murderer on the loose, Majesty—in the palace, no less, and she wasn’t prepared to risk another attempt once he discovered he had not fully succeeded in killing the Spur. I suspect she simply didn’t believe you could protect him.”

  Boaz bristled. “Get the priestess here. I have to talk to her directly.”

  “We cannot, Majesty.”

  “Why?” he demanded.

  “She has disappeared.”

  The Zar snapped his displeasure, feeling his emotions spiraling. “Disappeared?”

  Pez nodded gravely. “I went to see her at the Sea Temple today and she was gone.”

  “Well, that sounds suspicious?” Boaz replied, beginning to pace his chamber. Lazar alive! He didn’t know whether to be excited at the news or appalled that it had taken so long for him to discover it. “And Lazar?”

  “Is coming to you tonight. He wishes to present himself. I thought it only fair to warn you, High One. It was a shock for me when I found him and I didn’t want you to be placed in an awkward position.”

  Boaz looked gently at his friend. He felt suddenly sickened to have misjudged his oldest, greatest friend. He wondered what his father might think of his behavior toward one of Joreb’s favorite people. “I have wronged you, Pez. I was angry at your accusations but I should have listened to you, trusted you. You are the true friend in my life.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt you, my Zar, and I’m sorry I made you so angry. I have been…well, shall we say, preoccupied.”

  “It is forgotten,” Boaz said, waving their differences aside. “My concern is about how this is going to look.”