The Samazen, he decided as he strode back up the rise, knowing she was watching him, was going to be the least of his problems.
AT JUMO’S WISE SUGGESTION, Lazar guided the party into the foothills in a northwesterly direction so that Ana would not feel the nearness of her family. Their small dwelling was close but not close enough that she would necessarily recognize the terrain as anything but indigenous to the foothills rather than to the region she grew up in. Jumo noticed that the Spur had doggedly resisted all contact with Ana on the slow climb into the hills, preferring instead to send Jumo on both occasions that he felt inclined to check with the royal party that all was well with their horses, the pace, their comfort.
Jumo returned now with the message that both of them had anticipated an hour earlier at least. “The Valide wishes to speak with you.”
“And did she ask politely?”
“Something about not being of a mind to discuss her comfort with the Spur’s slave.” Jumo cleared his throat as if ridding himself of something distasteful.
“Gods rot that woman!” Lazar muttered. “I’m sorry, Jumo—”
“Don’t be sorry. Her words, not yours, and I was glad to run the errand. It meant I could see Ana.”
“More luck you,” Lazar said.
“And save you the pain of it,” Jumo qualified. “You know, Master…”
“Call me by my name in front of the Valide. Do not give her any ammunition. Let her see our familiarity.”
“All right. I was going to say, where Ana is concerned, I’m afraid your face, legendary as it is for its blankness, is in fact rather easy to read.”
“That bad?”
Jumo nodded. “If you don’t want to give the Valide a weapon, don’t even look at the girl.”
“I haven’t looked at her in thirteen moons!” he growled.
“And none of the heat has dissipated between the two of you.”
“That’s ridiculous, I—”
“What is? You both go out of your way to be so uncommunicative that it’s obvious you’re doing your utmost to look as though you have nothing to say to each other.”
“We don’t. Not anymore.” Lazar scowled.
“Now I know that’s a lie and so does the Valide. You’ve saved Ana’s life twice now, Lazar. And knowing you as I do, I understand that you have not acted purely out of duty. Whether or not the Valide appreciates this is irrelevant. You need to act more naturally.”
“Act naturally?” It was snarled with a mixture of incredulity and sarcasm.
Jumo ignored him and continued earnestly. This was important if they were all to survive. “Address her. Give her eye contact. Offer a few words—encouragement, inquiry, anything. Don’t be afraid to be friendly. It’s what they would anticipate…even though you’re not friendly to most.” He gave a soft smile to lighten the awkward yet necessary lecture, but Lazar had never looked more grim.
“That’s just the point, I am afraid to be friendly.”
“Why, Lazar?” Jumo pleaded. It seemed so simple to him, and Ana was so easy to get along with that surely the Spur could make it go lighter on all of them if he tried a bit harder. Jumo was startled when the sorrowful answer came.
“Because it will undo me, my friend. She is married now. She is Zaradine…more untouchable than she ever was.”
Jumo had known Lazar for so long now, shared enough to know how his friend might react in any situation. But not this time. He had never heard Lazar sound so vulnerable, and it was frightening. Frightening that a man who had always seemed impervious not just to the wiles of women but to any true friendship beyond their own could now appear so fragile where this young woman, this forbidden woman, was concerned. He could only feel the deepest pity for his friend who he now knew was on the most dangerous of paths. No one, absolutely no one, could lay a hand on a Zaradine. It was one thing to covet an odalisque, a possession of the Zar but still merely a slave amidst a myriad of other slaves. But once elevated to wife, she instantly became something more precious, and to be Absolute Favorite and likely mother to the heir meant her face would almost certainly never be looked upon by another whole man again.
Ana had always done things differently, and even though this was not by her design, here she was now on a journey, not just leaving the harem—something Herezah, for instance, had never considered possible—but representing her Zar, her nation, in a desperate bid to avert war. Suddenly she had been elevated to a new status altogether—no longer just Zaradine, no longer just Absolute Favorite, no longer just woman, but diplomatic negotiator, a strategist possibly, who might just fashion the peace that Percheron wanted, needed. From today on, many men—strangers, foreigners, enemies—might look upon her face if need called for it.
All of that acknowledged, the truth was that in principle nothing had actually changed…and Lazar knew it. For all the uniqueness of this situation, this was still a royal wife—the Favorite—and to covet this one was to invite cruel death.
Jumo understood what Lazar was battling. It was etched deep into his friend’s grief-stricken face. And Jumo wished, although he had suspected this forbidden love had deepened, that he hadn’t assumed it would somehow be diluted over time, through their absence from each other.
He had convinced himself that if the two did not see each other for so long, Lazar’s infatuation and what appeared to be Ana’s childish attachment to the Spur might lose their potency. But Ana was not a child. She had been a young woman when they had discovered her, but she had the composure of one far older and obviously the maturity to match. No, their compulsion toward each other was stronger than ever and both were fighting it hard. Lazar’s inspired suggestion that Boaz marry Ana for the sake of the nation was not just a desperate bid to secure her life and indeed possibly save Percheron, but also his skewed method of putting Ana so far out of his own reach that he could never do more than love her from a distance. And Jumo could see the price his friend was paying for that decision—undeniably the only decision he could make under the circumstances—and he also understood the debt would never be paid. Lazar would continue funding her security with his own pain—suffering seeming to be, for this man, a bottomless purse.
Jumo cleared his throat.
“I will try,” Lazar replied finally, and the forlorn nature of his promise prompted Jumo to add something, anything, of a positive nature, before his friend turned his horse around to drop back to the royal party.
“I met your parents, Lazar. Perhaps you would like me to tell you about that meeting?”
It had the opposite effect than he’d hoped. More darkness deepened into the shadows of the Spur’s face. “Perhaps,” he replied, and Jumo understood he was simply being polite. After all, Lazar had not even asked after the King and Queen.
Lazar’s companion sighed, looked toward the small valley ahead of them. “That’s camp. The camels will be delivered in the next few hours. I’m glad you decided to bring fewer men than the Zar originally suggested.”
Lazar nodded, said no more as he nudged his horse around and trotted unhappily back down the line of slow-moving people on horseback to the main party and to the woman who awaited him.
ATTIRED AS SHE WAS in a midnight-blue gown from head to toe, the dark eyes of the Valide flashed pure pleasure as his horse drew up next to hers.
“Valide, you wished to speak with me?”
“I do, Lazar. Why do you not travel with Zaradine Ana and myself? Surely as our guide and our chaperone, your job is to stay close?”
He knew she was playing with him but he had promised himself he would not bite at any bait she dangled on this journey. He hoped his oath was not an empty one. “The danger, should it arise, Valide, is not here alongside you and Zaradine Ana but at the front of the column. You must forgive me but my job is actually to keep you safe by knowing precisely what is ahead of us.”
“And what is ahead of us, Lazar? I see nothing but the dark shadows of thorny bushes and the black humps of dunes.”
“And you would be right, Valide. But also, less than one league away is our stopping point for a few hours. Ahead is a small valley, safe as a resting place so we can take delivery of our camels and both of our esteemed women might take some sleep for a while.” He looked across the Valide to where the silent Zaradine stared straight ahead into the night. He decided Jumo was right. He could at least try. “I imagine you must be fatigued, Zaradine Ana?” His voice was gentle and he couldn’t have cared less what Herezah read into it.
He was surprised, though, that Ana answered him so readily. Her voice was steady, clear, when it came. “I was when I was at the palace, Spur Lazar.”
“But no longer?” he dared, enjoying the fact that he had effectively cut Herezah out of the conversation momentarily.
“I didn’t know if I would be able to stay upright on my horse, I was so exhausted, but curiously I feel refreshed to be out beneath the stars, infused with a fresh energy to be back in the foothills. I am close to my home, I believe?” The inquiry was there, he could not avoid it.
“We are in the same region, yes.” He pointed. “Over there, in that direction, is where your home is.” She sighed in answer and Lazar took that sad sound to mean that she had no home.
“So you will join us for supper, Lazar,” Herezah said.
It was not a question but he responded as if it were. “Thank you, but I must decline. I have to ensure the camels—”
“The camels!” She laughed at him. “I’m sure amongst all these men someone else can receive and tie down the animals for a few hours, Spur. I believe you make excuses.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You wish to distance yourself from us women. But we are in need of some company.”
“You have the Grand Vizier—”
Again she interrupted him with a laugh. It was obvious she was enjoying this banter. Didn’t she always, Lazar thought wearily to himself.
“I can engage the Grand Vizier in conversation anytime I choose—isn’t that right, Tariq?”
The Grand Vizier, riding quietly on the far side of the Zaradine, dipped his head gently in a meaningless acknowledgment.
“But supper with the Spur is far more intriguing,” Herezah continued. “After all, we haven’t seen you for over twelve moons, Lazar. I’m sure Zaradine Ana will enjoy the opportunity to hear precisely what you’ve been up to all the time that we thought you were dead.” She kept her voice breezy but her words cut like a sharp blade through him. It was all threat.
He bristled despite his promise to remain impervious to her baiting. “I’m sure Zaradine Ana’s eventful day will demand that she rest, Valide. It would be irresponsible of me to ask her to squander precious sleeping hours in polite conversation over supper. We are not on a picnic, may I remind everyone. This is a journey fraught with unknown dangers and I’m afraid I must use my rank as Spur to insist that everyone, hungry or otherwise, take this chance to sleep. You will hate me when I send out the call to rouse yourselves in just a few hours. You can eat on the camels in the morning and you can feast when we break for camp tomorrow, but until then I will be busy with the activities entrusted to me by my Zar.”
“Spur Lazar, I think you forget yourself. You are here to care for our needs—”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Valide. Forgive me if my interpretation of care is different from yours, however. As Spur, I have duties. I am answerable to the Zar for your lives. I will do everything within my power to protect them…and that means ensuring this trip is not treated like some sort of festive event. Again, forgive my brusque words, Valide, but we are now in hostile territory.”
“Hostile? This is still Percheron, Spur—”
“The desert kills, Valide. It is hostile to all creatures and does not differentiate between Percherese or Galinsean. It will destroy us as it chooses. I am here to ensure it is never given that chance. Please excuse me.” He bowed his head to the Valide, then to the Zaradine, who did not look at him. “Tariq.”
“How long before we arrive?” the Grand Vizier inquired.
“I shall stop the caravan very shortly and then I shall return to get the royal tent up and all of you settled.”
Tariq nodded and Lazar took that as his opportunity to leave.
“OOH, THAT MAN IS so frustrating!” Herezah breathed.
“Only for you, Valide, it seems,” Maliz observed. “Zaradine Ana had little to say to him and I can see he has no time for me.”
“It’s true, our new Zaradine must be tired; after all she nearly drowned today. Tomorrow he will not be quite so slippery.”
“Why do you pursue the Spur, Valide?” Ana asked, surprising Herezah by joining in. “It’s obvious neither of you cares much for the other save what is necessary for formality.”
“Don’t question me, Ana! Please remember your place.” Herezah bristled.
“As Absolute Favorite Wife to the Zar, Valide, or as the emissary who will try to negotiate a peace treaty for Percheron?”
“I forbid you to take that tone with me, Ana.”
“You forbid me nothing, Valide.” Herezah opened her mouth to retaliate but Ana did not give her a chance. “Out here, in the desert, we are equals. In fact, I think if I had to survive alone I might stand a better chance. I’m from these parts, Herezah, and I haven’t forgotten the harshness of the wild or how to respect it. You have never felt its sinister touch and I suspect if you were alone you would capitulate at its first fiery breath of the day or its icy nighttime caress. You need the Spur, and not as an enemy.”
Furious that the young woman had just addressed her by name, Herezah replied icily, “I don’t need him as anything!”
“Anything other than a supper companion,” Ana finished for her, “or perhaps a bedmate?”
Herezah felt the compulsion to strike this girl again, hit her so hard she might tumble from her horse, but she was too wily to succumb to that again. She knew Ana was playing her at her own game. The youngster was baiting her, willing her to strike, to let her son down, to bring shame on herself. She did no such thing. Instead she laughed.
“Oh my dear, you reveal too much of yourself. You are fortunate for the veil and the cover of darkness, otherwise we might all see your burning cheeks. Do you really think no one sees through you? The Spur is not for you, child, no matter how much you covet him.”
“I am a married woman, Valide.”
“That’s meaningless.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
Maliz coughed to hide his amusement at Ana’s audacity.
“You overstep your status,” Herezah warned, in the cold tone she was used to freezing people to the spot with.
To her rapidly increasing fury, the young Zaradine seemed impervious to the threat. “I warned you before: we are now equal. I’ll respect your position in the harem provided you respect my new status. Out here, however, I abide by no one’s rules but my own, Valide, and those of the Spur, who is leading this journey. As for suggesting that I am lusting for Lazar, I see no one panting around him like a dog in heat, save yourself.”
At this Maliz clearly couldn’t help himself. He broke into loud laughter. His outburst startled Herezah from her fury and prevented the Valide from breaking her promise and doing something ugly to Ana that she would regret. Instead she somehow managed to join the Grand Vizier in his amusement, after which she simply dropped her voice low, menacing, and murmured only for Ana’s hearing: “There will be a reckoning for this once we return.”
“If we return,” Ana warned. Nothing further could be said; the Elim were forming an escort around them once again.
“We are stopping here for a few hours, Valide,” the senior man said.
“Good,” Herezah snapped. “I’m weary of this company and conversation. Please get our tents set up quickly.”
27
The group of men, nomads, arrived with the camels at just past midnight. The camp was mostly silent; the Valide, Zaradine, and Grand Vizier were r
esting, if not asleep. The two women shared tented accommodation that could be considered grand—lavish by the visitors’ awed stares—but Lazar knew that Percheron could have yielded something infinitely more breathtaking in terms of opulence had it been given sufficient time. The Grand Vizier slept in a smaller, gaudily colored tent that would normally be used by far lesser dignitaries. Still, he had said his good nights without complaint, and again Lazar was struck by the radical changes in the man. Tariq would have required accommodations that screamed richness and status, but Maliz couldn’t seem to care less where he put his head down. Although in the past, Tariq had irritated Lazar as a meaningless, sycophantic drone, Maliz gave him a constant sense of un-ease. It was more than that, though. Maliz gave Lazar a feeling of dread, as though he were simply toying with everyone now, enjoying the angst within this party, not in any way involved or concerned. Coming along for the fun of it perhaps, even though his Zar expected it.
Pez materialized by Lazar’s side. “Why are you staring at his tent?”
“I’m wondering why he’s here. He could have easily made legitimate excuses. There must be a reason for him coming along that suits his own agenda.”
“Ana, presumably,” Pez replied without hesitation.
“We’ve been through this—”
“I know. And your claims damn my beliefs all the way to hell.”
“And still you believe,” Lazar finished for him.
“I do. I feel something in Ana. She resembles a plain mortal as little as I do. I don’t have the answer, so don’t tax me with the question, but I believe Ana is involved—as firmly as I believe you are.”
“He cannot be here for Ana, though. Whatever you believe, he must have satisfied himself that she is not the Goddess incarnate.”
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