Emissary

by Fiona McIntosh

  Boaz had been concentrating hard on the foreign words flying about him as the four people who spoke and understood contemporary Galinsean conversed. Ana bowed in resignation. “Explain, Ana,” he said.

  “My Zar, forgive me,” she began, thinking through the best way to present the Galinsean argument without giving offense. She already felt herself to be engaged in diplomatic juggling, with or without formal appointment as Percherese emissary to the Galinsean court. “I can certainly act as your emissary but my status is such that it will not make a strong enough impression on the royal family of Galinsea. I risk more damage to your Crown.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I gather they need someone of high rank from Percheron. The Valide, the Grand Vizier…perhaps—”

  “None of whom speak Galinsean!” Boaz cut across her, his exasperation spilling over. “How am I expected to keep both Percheron and Lazar safe? If I send him, they’ll likely kill him. If I don’t, they’ll destroy us.”

  Silence descended on the room and rested heavily on everyone. It was Lazar who broke it. “I will go, Highness. My life has been forfeit for some time with my family and until not so long ago you accepted my death. Let me take my chances.”

  “Your death was never accepted, Lazar, never! I will not risk you, not again. Percheron needs you now more than ever. There has to be another way.”

  “There is,” Lazar replied evenly.

  All eyes shifted to the Spur, except Ana’s, which remained studiously lowered, unable to look upon him without suffering. She could hear in his voice, however, that his idea did not sit comfortably with him.

  “Share it!” Boaz commanded.

  “May I see if it is acceptable with the Galinseans, Highness? I fear they’re wondering what we’re discussing and they sense your frustration. I don’t think that we should estrange them at this delicate stage.”

  “Go ahead,” Boaz urged him.

  As Lazar spoke to the two men, Ana’s eyes widened and then her mouth opened slightly. “Spur Lazar, no!” She surprised everyone with her outburst and Lazar turned to glare momentarily at her. As he returned to explaining his proposition to the intrigued guests, Ana heard the Zar’s soft voice close to her ear.

  “Ana, you and I must speak alone later; there is much to clear between us, now that you—er, will be amongst us again.”

  She said nothing but inclined her head slightly in polite response to his wishes.

  Marius nodded, said simply, “This would be acceptable to us.”

  Lazar, turning back to his ruler, found a grim smile. “They agree, Highness. The idea is acceptable to them.”

  SALMEO FELT UNPREPARED FOR this storm. For once, this was none of his making and it was rare for him to feel quite so helpless. The shock of Ana’s revival had already sunk in and been accepted by him. The Grand Master Eunuch was nothing if not philosophical about life in the palace and would always work to find a way to turn every new situation to his advantage. He had calmed down, and sat now, slightly embarrassed, brushing imaginary lint from his robes as the Valide raged. She had held on to her anger, prompted by Ana’s rescue and was seemingly unable to let go yet of her outrage at harem business being interrupted by palace protocol. Salmeo suspected the issue was more complex than simply Ana’s survival—which was a shock for all involved. No, this was more; this was linked to coming face-to-face with a ghost in the shape of Spur Lazar. The Valide’s fury and frustration were spiced by her confusion and disbelief at finding that the man she was so besotted by, the one she had thought dead for more than a year, was very much alive and still concerned with saving Odalisque Ana from her punishment.

  He cleared his throat as Herezah continued spitting her despair. “Emissary! To the court of Galinsea, no less.”

  “It’s baffling, Valide, I agree,” Salmeo soothed.

  She clenched her fists and groaned. “The sight of Lazar diving into that water and then coming up with her makes me sick to my stomach! How can he be back?”

  “More to the point, Valide, how could she have not drowned?”

  She ignored him. “They usurped my authority, Salmeo. It is not right that harem business is interrupted by outsiders.”

  “I know, but this was the Zar’s wish. We are not in a position to openly contradict your son, Valide.”

  “I don’t need the obvious stated, eunuch,” she spat.

  Salmeo disagreed but kept his counsel. Even though she was not raising her voice, this was the first time in her adulthood that he had seen her so flustered. Ana’s survival, combined with Lazar’s reemergence, had reduced the Valide to a shaking wreck. He had ordered her pomegranate tea to be infused with vinko to restore her calm. It was taking its time working, he noticed, another indication that the Valide’s emotions were spinning well beyond her usual icy control. “Forgive me, Valide. I meant not to offend. I simply wanted to convey that the Zar had taken full charge of the proceedings—he even had the Vizier fetching Ana! What next? He was obviously not taking any chances.”

  “Why not send the Grand Vizier to Galinsea? He and Boaz are as close as brothers these days,” she said, disgust lacing her tone.

  “He does not speak Galinsean.”

  “Then Lazar, for Zarab’s sake! The man’s alive—isn’t that what this is all about?”

  He nodded, determined not to fuel her anger. He was already too close to getting burned. “I am as confused as you are, Valide. Please sip your tea. We can’t have your voice hoarse for when you are presented to the Galinsean dignitaries.”

  “If I’m presented, Salmeo. It seems that Odalisque Ana is all that my son needs these days. Now she’s his diplomatic representative at foreign courts!”

  He could see her pulse pounding at her temple and began a soft tutting sound. “I suspect that is only because she can speak the language fluently, Valide, no other reason.”

  She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to hurl more abuse his way, but was halted when the bell sounded outside.

  “Come!” Herezah ordered. Her personal attendant stepped inside. “Yes?”

  “Valide, forgive my disturbance, but it is the Zar’s secretary, Bin, with a message he must deliver personally.”

  “Well, he can wait, I’m busy,” she growled back.

  The slave looked terrified. “My sincerest apologies, Valide, but it is urgent, of the highest importance, and direct from the Zar’s mouth, I am told to inform you.”

  Herezah scowled. “Send him in,” she said, her hand waving in disdain.

  Bin entered and bowed. “Valide, Grand Master Salmeo, please forgive my interruption.”

  “What is it?” Herezah said. “If you’ve come to invite me to supper with the Galinseans, they’ll be waiting awhile. I need several hours for my toilet.”

  Bin bowed low again. “I do bring an invitation, Valide, but not for supper with the Zar.”

  “What then?” She sneered.

  “He would like you to attend and witness his wedding.”

  22

  Ana was hurriedly whisked from the Throne Room to be prepared for her marriage in the finest garments that could be assembled in such a short time. The Galinseans were shown to some accommodations where they could rest and freshen themselves.

  Boaz asked Lazar to join himself and the Vizier in a private courtyard. Pez was nowhere to be seen.

  Lazar had barely moments to spend with Jumo, who still wore an expression of incredulity as they walked along the palace corridors toward the Moon Courtyard.

  “I can’t believe it,” the faithful servant said again. “And you look so different.”

  Lazar shook his head. “None of this need have happened if only I’d been asked.”

  “But they said you were unconscious, incapable of conversation, and then you died. What else could we believe? Even Pez was duped initially, I gather.”

  “He was. I owe you some explanation of what really happened, my friend, but right now we must make arrangements.”

  “Yes
, I understand the urgency. I feel responsible. This war threat is because of my hasty actions.”

  “Don’t, Jumo! You are the last person to be blamed for this mess. Ellyana is the villain. She and Zafira deliberately kept all information of my survival from you…and worse, perpetrated the lie of my death. I’m so sorry.”

  Jumo grimaced. “I knew I was being manipulated at the time but I couldn’t work out why. I still can’t. What did Ellyana gain through her actions except chaos?”

  “I think that’s precisely what she was after. Or, more accurately, unpredictability. Be patient. I have some things to tell you but we must prepare to leave for Galinsea. The Zar awaits me.”

  “You’re going?”

  “I’m not letting Ana go alone.”

  “But she’s not, she’s—”

  “She might as well be. No, I will be escorting her as far as the capital, if Boaz will permit it, and I can’t see him refusing me. After she is delivered, I can melt into the city crowds, but at least I’ll be there.”

  Jumo nodded. “All right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Horses through the foothills, camels to take over from the edge of the Waste. Get fat old Belzo off his backside and doing what he does best: securing the Shield’s supplies. We need to be self-sufficient—you know what a long journey it is.”

  “How many are going?”

  “Marius and Lorto can return on their ship and hopefully allay any eager Galinsean warships. Our party will be three, and no more if I can help it.”

  Jumo pulled an expression of uncertainty and Lazar knew his friend wanted to take more men. He also knew Jumo would hold his tongue on this, deferring to the Spur’s knowledge of what might or might not further incite the Galinseans. Instead, Jumo asked, “Why the desert, Lazar? Surely ship is the best way?”

  “It’s too slow. We have to stop any invasion fleet before it leaves Galinsea. The desert is our only hope. Marius and Lorto will take their ship and hasten to their main flotilla. Thus they will prevent the Galinsean warships from moving any closer to Percheron and instead get word to my father via birds. By then, hopefully, we’ll already be there and royal decree will go back to the warships ordering them to return to Romea.”

  “But you can’t even enter the city of Romea apparently.”

  Lazar grimaced. “I know. I’m hoping to have a plan before we get there.”

  Jumo smiled. “Typical. Leave it to me.”

  Lazar gripped the man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jumo…especially for your patience.”

  The little man shrugged. “You’re alive, that’s all that matters to me. I’ll leave you now. I have a lot to organize in a short time.”

  “Tell Belzo quality camels or I’ll—”

  “I know, I know…you’ll kick his fat backside.”

  The two men grinned. Even though the trip already smelled so dangerous, it felt good to be preparing to travel together again.

  “AH, LAZAR,” BOAZ SAID, welcoming the Spur into his private courtyard, where he stood with Maliz. “Come, come.”

  Lazar glanced at the Grand Vizier, returned his gaze to the Zar. “Apologies for my tardiness, Highness. Arrangements needed to be made.”

  “My mind’s a whirl—yours must be, too.”

  The Grand Vizier handed Lazar a cup of strong wine.

  “I think we all need this,” Boaz reflected. “Heartfelt thanks to you for coming up with an acceptable solution all around.” He raised his glass to his Spur.

  “It’s radical, Highness,” the Vizier said.

  “Not really, Tariq. Quite normal, I would have thought, for me to choose a wife from my harem.”

  “I’m just imagining how it will reflect on you, Highness, that you’ve chosen a condemned prisoner who was actually in the process of being executed.”

  Lazar bristled. “The Galinseans know none of that, Vizier, and we can keep it that way. As far as they’re concerned, this is a woman who speaks their language with grace and fluency and who is married to the Zar…that’s a Queen in their eyes.” He looked at the Zar. “You will make her Absolute Favorite, of course. Her status must be the highest there is.”

  “Of course,” Boaz said. “I can only imagine the fury in the harem at how events have turned out,” he said, smiling ruefully, and then added: “I only wish I could have saved Kett in the chaos as well.”

  The Vizier looked thoughtful. “You misinterpret me, Spur. I think Ana—the little I’ve seen of her—is magnificent. We took some time together before she came to the Throne Room…” He watched Lazar’s eyes narrow, saw the body tense. So, the Spur felt the same way toward Ana as she did toward him. Very interesting. Another relationship to watch. He smiled. “The Zar asked me to explain to her what was happening. I found her to be exquisite yet feisty, a good listener, and sharp, quick to assimilate information. She is precisely what is required for this role. I was actually referring not to the Galinseans but to those who stood to benefit by her death…those a little closer to home.”

  “You mean my mother and Salmeo,” Boaz said.

  Maliz didn’t flinch. Oddly enough, he rather cared for Boaz and now Ana. Their lives were of infinitesimal importance compared to his own—both of them merely vehicles for a greater agenda—but still they had both managed to get under his skin somewhat, make him care—just a fraction—for their earthly pursuits. And so he preferred to be frank with Boaz, to guide him properly. He knew the Zar could handle constructive criticism if it was offered genuinely and at the right time. The Zar was no fool when it came to either the Valide or the eunuch. “Yes, of course I do. I’m not suggesting the Valide created the situation, but we’d all be lying to ourselves if we didn’t see how she stands to gain by Odalisque Ana being out of the way.”

  Defense came from an unexpected quarter. “Whether it’s Ana or some other wife, it will happen someday. The Valide understands the fragility of her own existence. She always has,” Lazar replied.

  “That’s generous of you, Lazar,” Boaz said. “My mother’s mind works in fantastic ways sometimes. To be honest, there are moments when I despise her, but there are many more when I can only feel the highest admiration for her. She has survived and prevailed in an atmosphere of fear and suspicion. Unlike both of you, I’ve lived in the harem. Neither of you can begin to imagine what my mother has had to do to raise herself to the position she now has.” Both men nodded thoughtfully. He continued. “I agree, Vizier, that my mother’s position is protected as long as I don’t take a wife. Ana was always a threat—as are all the women, as Lazar rightly argues—but the ironic part is that the Valide herself chose Ana. She always intended that Ana be Favorite.”

  “Just not so soon,” Lazar added.

  “That’s right, not so soon. My mother’s waited a long time to achieve her position and I for one can’t blame her for wanting to hang on to it for a little longer.”

  “She won’t lose her status, Majesty,” Lazar began.

  “No, but the beginning of the slide is there, isn’t it? A wife is taken, an heir is born…it’s only a matter of time.”

  “But, my Zar, you are still so young. You have many years before you hand over the throne to a son,” Maliz commented.

  “On the face of it, yes,” Boaz said, frowning, “but things happen in life, Vizier, that none of us can foresee. If I’d said to you a couple of days ago that we would be trying to avert a genuine threat of war with Galinsea, you most likely would have laughed at me, called me paranoid. And yet here we are sending a sixteen-year-old girl into incredible danger to protect ourselves from that very invasion.”

  “What are you saying, Highness?” Lazar asked.

  Boaz shrugged. “Nothing profound, simply pointing out the strangeness of fate. My father took a harmless fall from his horse—the same sort of fall he had taken many times before—but on that last occasion he was killed by it. The previous Zar died from accidental poisoning because he enjoyed bloatfish. None of us has such a firm grip on life that Zarab can�
��t take it whenever he wishes. My mother has every right to feel angry at how things are turning out. Yes, she probably silently cheered Ana’s demise because I had announced my intention to choose her…it has taken her so long to attain her status and now it’s being whittled away barely a year into her son’s reign. But if I died by accident tomorrow, my mother would be finished and chaos would abound in the palace.”

  “Hurry up and sire a son on Ana, then, Highness, that’s my advice to you.” Maliz laced his tone with humor and Boaz grinned, but the demon had deliberately chosen his words to watch the reaction from the Spur. He got precisely what he expected.

  Lazar cleared his throat. “Zar Boaz, we must leave immediately following the nuptials. I’m not sure there will be time after the ceremony for…”

  “Oh, come now, Spur,” Maliz drawled sardonically, “are you going to deny a man his wedding rights?”

  “I…” Lazar looked flustered. “Zar Boaz, I—”

  Maliz laughed inwardly. So, secret lovers within the palace. Forbidden, dangerous love…the best kind. “Well, if not a wedding night, at least a chance to consummate the marriage, make it real. Surely our ruse will sit more easily with our Galinsean dignitaries if they know the marriage is genuine.”

  Boaz was nodding—much to Lazar’s dismay, Maliz noted. Maliz wanted to clap, he was enjoying himself so much.

  “You’re right, Tariq. If nothing else, it will give the appearance of authenticity. Good, that’s settled,” Boaz said, unable to disguise a distinct flush in his cheeks, “Ana will join me for a few hours after the ceremony. It is fitting. I do need to talk with her after all that has occurred.”

  Now the Vizier did grin openly. “Talk? Yes, indeed, Highness. I’m sure you will enjoy your conversation, but just let it be known that the marriage is consummated. All in the pursuit of diplomacy, Highness.” He could feel Lazar seething nearby.

  Boaz nodded again. “You may prepare to leave in the cool of the evening, Lazar.”

  Lazar nodded curtly. “As you wish, my Zar.”