Odalisque (22 page)

‘Quickly,’ she urged. ‘Lay him down by the altar just inside. Let Lyana look upon him.’

Jumo grimaced. How many more gods would they call upon today to save Lazar? He hefted his friend once again over his shoulders and felt intense relief to hear the man groan softly. The climb up the flight of steps felt like a mountain with the weight on his body and the suffocating crush of fear within himself. Inside it was cool and serene; the silence and darkness calmed him slightly as Zafira fretted, pointing to the altar.

‘Over there please,’ she insisted.

‘A bed surely?’ Jumo suggested, angry at her.

‘Do as Zafira says,’ Pez said gently.

Jumo knelt and then rolled Lazar as carefully as he could off his shoulders with Pez and Zafira guiding Lazar onto his belly once again. The linen covering fell away and Zafira’s hands flew like startled birds to her mouth, covering the cry of wretchedness at the sight of the Spur’s injuries.

‘Oh, Mother,’ she wept. ‘Help this soul, guide us in this.’

Jumo gritted his teeth. His part was done for the time being and he suddenly felt helpless. ‘The poison will kill him before the wounds,’ he growled.

‘Do we know what type of poison?’ Pez’s question snapped the priestess out of her stupefaction. They heard her knees protest as she lowered herself beside Lazar. Fresh water and linens were already prepared and waiting. She
squeezed out the first linen and began her gentle toil.

Jumo shook his head. ‘I don’t, but I think Shaz is innocent of treachery.’

Pez sighed. ‘I think we can assume that Salmeo is behind this. I wonder who else.’

‘Not Herezah,’ Jumo offered sombrely. ‘Are you aware of her fascination for Lazar?’

Pez kneeled too. ‘I’d have to be blind and deaf as well as daft not to be. You’re right, she would not have sanctioned this. Lazar’s too important to the realm anyway. Herezah might be ambitious and wicked but she’s far from stupid.’

‘The Vizier?’ Jumo offered as they watched Zafira gently cleanse Lazar’s back.

‘Give him this,’ Zafira said softly to Pez.

‘What is it?’

‘It will bring a small measure of comfort. I can’t risk putting him to sleep until we know more about the drug used on him. Jumo, help me clean away the blood—I need to see him more clearly.’

‘Tariq does not have access to the Inflictors or their weapons,’ Pez continued. ‘No, if this hasn’t come from Herezah, and I think you’re right in that, then this is all Salmeo’s work. He alone can give such a command.’

‘Shaz seemed to know nothing of it.’

Pez shrugged as he dribbled the concoction into Lazar’s barely parted lips, grimacing as most of it ran down the side of his mouth. ‘Why would he? He is simply the fellow who will take the
blame. I imagine even his superiors are pawns in this.’

Lazar’s back was cleaned of old blood. Now his wounds seeped bright, fresh lifeblood from the new attention.

‘Most would perish from this alone,’ Zafira muttered to herself and her companions knew she spoke the truth. She gently traced the livid tracks of the poison. ‘It moves very slowly. I have no idea what it is.’

‘So what do we do?’ Jumo asked, frightened all over again. Why he had thought an old priestess and a dwarf could save Lazar’s life he didn’t know. It all felt suddenly useless.

As he hung his head a shadow darkened the entrance. He didn’t notice but Zafira and Pez did.

‘I’m sorry,’ Zafira said from the ground where she knelt. ‘You’ve come at a trying time, as you can see.’

‘I do see.’ It was a woman. She was softly spoken and her voice had a musical quality as she asked: ‘May I come in? Perhaps I might help?’

Jumo watched the hooded figure step out of the doorway, where she was encircled by the light of the sun, and into the shadows. Their visitor was petite yet her presence seemed to pulse with an aura of authority. Somehow none of them could deny her access to Lazar.

She knelt beside him, making a soft sound of concern. She pushed back her hood and Jumo noticed first her white hair, which must have
been golden when she was young. As she turned to face him he saw that the woman was indeed older, somehow familiar, skin like beautiful ivory parchment, unblemished except for the handsome lines of time. The deep kindness she conveyed in that look eased his despair even though her words did not. ‘He will slip beyond us within hours,’ she said to him but it was meant for all of them.

Jumo wasn’t sure what to make of such a comment. ‘Can you help him?’

‘He is very close to death. I should have seen something like this coming.’ This last she said beneath her breath but Pez’s sharp hearing caught it, and he frowned, wondering what she could mean.

He glanced towards Zafira who gave an expression of bafflement. They both snatched a look at Jumo but he was concentrating deeply, his focus given entirely over to the old woman.

‘There is poison,’ he confirmed and she nodded.

The old woman leant close to Lazar’s back and sniffed. Then she nodded again, deep in thought. ‘I think this is drezden. A nasty, debilitating concoction. Normally it would be administered to a healthy person orally and death would follow within hours. It has a distinctive spicy smell, reminiscent of clove…can you detect it?’ They shook their heads dumbly. ‘You’ve all been a bit preoccupied,’ she offered kindly. ‘The drezden in
this instance has been administered topically via the weapon used to flog him. It is not an effective way to deliver the poison but, as you can see by the tracks, it is working, but slowly. This is our single hope.’

‘He can beat it?’ Jumo asked hopefully.

‘Unlikely, and his horrific injuries will probably kill him first.’ She gave him a look of genuine sorrow. ‘I’m sorry, Jumo.’

Pez was the sharpest, noticing how she used Jumo’s name, making a friend of him. He also noted that both Zafira and Jumo seemed overawed by the stranger’s presence. ‘Do we know you?’

‘In a way,’ she said, indicating that they should lay the wet linens back in place. ‘Those will need to be kept constantly damp.’

‘I have never met you before,’ Pez said, a soft challenge in his tone.

‘Ah, but you have, friend Pez. Remember a red silk ribbon?’

His initial intrigue curdled to shock. The Bundle Woman! She looked different and yet, now he thought about it, somehow the same. She was not as old as she had originally appeared to him.

‘How do you know my name?’ Jumo asked, suddenly focused again.

‘I know all of your names. You are Jumo, this is Pez and,’ she bowed her head slightly, ‘this is a sister, Zafira.’

‘You are a priestess?’ Zafira exclaimed, obvious delight in her voice.

The old woman smiled but said nothing until she looked down upon their patient. ‘And this is Lazar, whom we shall probably lose but not without a fight.’ Her words reassured Jumo, even though he could almost hear the death knell for a man he loved.

‘What have you given him?’ the woman continued.

‘The root of calzen,’ Zafira answered, ‘to ease his pain, not that it can really deaden this sort of pain. I couldn’t risk a soporific.’

‘The right decision,’ the woman said. ‘I cannot do anything here. We have to move him.’

‘Is it safe to?’ Pez enquired, fascinated but also suspicious of the old girl who had still not mentioned her own name.

‘Lazar is dying, Pez. Nothing we do can make much of a difference until I can get him to the Isle of Stars.’

Now they all stared at her.

‘The leper colony?’ Jumo said it for them.

She shrugged. ‘It’s safe and no-one comes there.’

‘You live there?’ Zafira asked, unable to mask her incredulity.

‘Now and then.’

‘Who are you?’ Pez tried, determined.

‘Questions, questions!’ She smiled and the warmth made their hearts feel instantly lighter. ‘I
will answer them all but I have a precious man’s life in the balance. Please, help me get him to the island, although I suspect, Pez, that you should return to the palace.’

‘Yes but—’

‘Go, brother Pez. You cannot help Lazar any more than you have. I promise we shall get word to you and besides, I gather I have some questions to answer for you.’ Again the gentle smile that prevented him from pushing further.

Pez knew he would be missed at the palace and that was courting danger. He touched Lazar gently on his blood-streaked face and then was moved to bend close and kiss him. ‘I shall see you again, my friend,’ he whispered, and with one sad glance towards the others, he departed the temple.

As he wended his way back to the palace Pez pondered—amongst many confusing aspects of today—the few moments where he was sure he lost consciousness. One moment he was dashing at high speed from the temple to find Jumo again, and the next he was out cold on the roadside. No-one bothered with him and he had regained his wits slowly, uninterrupted by curious passers-by. He could not account for the fainting spell but he was convinced he had seen himself urging Lazar to hold on, to not give his life to this attempted execution.

And now the Bundle Woman returning to his life. She had manipulated all of them, convinced
Jumo of Lazar’s inevitable death even though their friend still breathed, still clung to life. But she had soothed them all too. What skill. He looked forward to learning more about her.

Pez was deeply confused and anxious, but no-one back at the palace so much as noticed. It was what they were used to.

Ana was hurried away from the Courtyard of Sorrows and taken directly to a sleeping chamber, which she realised, she must be sharing with three other girls. The four beds being tidied by a slave suggested as much. The Elim passed Ana into the care of an older woman who had presumably been waiting for her.

‘She’s in shock,’ the woman commented, looking at her.

Horz, who had accompanied Ana and tried to soothe her, had been ignored by the odalisque, blamed by him in fact for what had befallen Lazar. He spoke quietly to the slave. ‘She will need your care—perhaps something gentle to help her rest. As you know, she has been out all night and this afternoon she has witnessed something no child should see. It has been difficult for her.’ He said no more. The slave nodded and urged Ana to come with her, which Ana gratefully did, glad to be rid of the eunuchs.

‘Does he live?’ she demanded of them before they left.

‘I doubt it,’ Horz said softly and again Ana refused the sympathy she saw in his unhappy eyes. ‘No-one could survive that.’

‘Come, child. Let me take that bloodied veil off you,’ the woman said kindly. ‘I am Elza.’

‘My name is Ana,’ she replied, glaring again at the Head of the Elim. Horz’s presence seemed to distress her and Elza glanced sharply at him to suggest the Elim should leave. They did so silently.

Ana relaxed slightly once they had departed. ‘I want to keep this,’ she said suddenly, rolling the veil into a ball, as if by doing so she could stifle the pain of Lazar’s potential death within it. She could not think on such a grievous outcome right now.

‘What?’ the woman exclaimed. ‘This messy thing? Whatever for?’

Ana decided to lie. She had no desire to let anyone know that the blood of Lazar meant more to her than anything else in her life. To cast the veil away—her only physical connection with him—would feel like casting him away. The droplets of his blood were ghoulish, she knew this, but it was all she had. No more tears would she shed over this man. She hardly understood it herself but she believed she loved Lazar—would never love anyone with the same depth of feeling she felt for him.

Ana had chided herself the previous night that her heart was deceiving her. She was so young and she guessed Lazar was a man of almost thirty,
maybe older. It was a ludicrous situation, but control of her longing heart that thumped so rapidly every time this man was near was no longer hers. They had not spent much time together but she could re-create the feel of her hand in his, the smile she worked so hard to win on his face, the softening of his expression when their eyes met. She could bring to life in her mind the rich timbre of his voice with its foreign lilt. And the warmth of his body standing next to her the night before in the Choosing Room; it felt to her as if a furnace had burned between them. She had risked leaning closer to him—in front of Herezah—just to feel that hardness of his body.

Ana had wondered long and deep, as she prayed to Lyana in the temple, whether it was wrong of her to desire Lazar. She was so young in comparison to him. But Ana felt powerless where Lazar was concerned. Where Salmeo’s touch caused her entire being to clamp shut, just a glance from Lazar achieved the opposite. It niggled at her to do something with the flood of desire.

Lazar, she appreciated, had not once in their brief encounters behaved in anything but a formal, seemingly detached manner. The only time he might have let his guard down slightly was in the bazaar when he seemed momentarily carefree, but his treatment of her was dignified. In her moments of sensibility, she had to question this relationship and perhaps accept she was reading far too much into it. And yet this afternoon, in the Courtyard of
Sorrows, she had felt their bond as a tangible link and she knew it was true. She was not lying to herself. She knew now in her heart that there was love there in return, but whether it was the type of love she wanted from him—that, she couldn’t tell. He might see her as an uncle might view a favourite niece, but she couldn’t believe that. And as he had borne her punishment she had heard him whisper her name. He had spoken to her alone and he had been prepared to give his life for her—it was too much, more than she deserved. He had looked dead by the end of it but she forced herself to believe otherwise.

She cast a prayer to Lyana, made a bargain with the Goddess:
Let him survive and I make no further claim on him. I will not pursue him and I will not encourage him. I will remain steadfast to my duty and cold to his entreaties, should he give them.

She looked at the veil and realised Elza was waiting for an answer. Pez’s warning to trust no-one resonated loudly in her thoughts. ‘This was my first formal occasion for the harem. It’s a special keepsake for me.’

‘How grim of you, child. Very well—put it away and don’t frighten the other girls with it. That’s your bed over there.’

‘By the window?’ Ana was surprised. ‘I would have thought that one would be taken already.’

‘Pez—the Zar’s mad jester—came and slept on it last night. He refused to leave it until the girls got tired of asking.’

‘Oh?’

‘And then he said he’d put a curse on the bed and the others got so frightened I had to shoo that terrible dwarf away. Have you seen him yet?’ She didn’t wait for Ana to answer. ‘He’s such a fool. But the young Zar loves him as much as his father before him did. I don’t see the charm, myself. I think Pez is a nuisance and I’m sorry you’re left with a cursed bed.’

‘I have seen him,’ Ana replied carefully. ‘How did the women before us like him?’

‘Oh, well enough. He entertained them. He’s harmless, I suppose, but he disrupted those children so much they could hardly settle.’

Ana had to suppress a smile. She knew Pez had chosen that bed just for her and loved him for it. It was easily in the best position in the whole chamber. ‘Well, I’m not afraid of any curse.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Elza said, not really paying much attention. Ana stood naked before her. ‘You’ve had your Test of Virtue, haven’t you?’

Ana nodded.

‘Good. Let’s get you into a warm bath. Put this robe on and come with me. You’re in for a special experience.’

Ana slipped into the silken robe, feeling the soft touch of it against her skin, and then begged a moment to tuck Lazar’s Veil—as she thought of it—beneath her pillow.

He would always sleep close to her now.

They had rowed in silence so far through the late afternoon. Jumo worked the oars whilst Zafira fussed over the unconscious Spur; the stranger sat with her back to the rest of them, chanting beneath her breath as if in prayer.

She spoke suddenly, interrupting their thoughts. ‘Can you row close to Beloch?’

‘The waves might dash us against the giant,’ Jumo warned even though the sea wasn’t rough today, but amazed that she could make such an odd request when time was so against them.

‘Beloch will not hurt us.’

Jumo mumbled something but steered them closer to the giant who loomed massive now that their tiny boat was up close.

‘Why must you do this?

‘I want to speak to him,’ she answered and she did just that, balancing herself precariously as the boat rocked perilously. None of her companions understood what she said to the giant.

Jumo scowled. ‘We’ll all drown.’

The old woman smiled serenely at him. ‘Thank you, it meant a lot to me that I could do this.’

‘Do you speak to the giant each time you go to the island?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said, her voice suddenly detached, as if her thoughts were far away from them. ‘I have never rowed to the island before.’

Jumo didn’t say any more—the situation was turning too strange.

‘We require no refreshment,’ Zar Boaz said to Bin, dismissing the servant but also displaying that none of his wrath has dissipated. He knew he must learn to disguise it if he was to emulate his father.

Salmeo and Tariq stood before him and bowed again to show they were waiting on his every command.

Boaz did not acknowledge their courtesy. He reined in his anger and steadied his voice. ‘Have we heard any more?’

The Grand Master Eunuch adopted a look of concern. ‘No, Majesty. I dealt with the pig Inflictor,’ he lied, ‘who had no skill at all for his chosen career.’

Boaz nodded. ‘Where were the senior Inflictors—Shaz cannot be all that we have in the palace?’

Salmeo shook his head, his frown deepening. ‘No, Great One, that’s right, but we had no option but to use Shaz. Would you like me to have him punished?’

‘Not especially. I would prefer you to punish his seniors who were not present. We cannot have the head and his deputy both unavailable. It is unforgivable!’

Boaz instantly regretted calling this meeting whilst his emotions were still raw. Seeing his
friend so broken had sickened him sufficiently that when he had strode from the balcony he had actually lost his morning’s meal into the bushes not far from his chambers. Mercifully, with no guards on the balcony with them, no-one but his mother was privy to this show of weakness and she had sensibly said nothing, simply offered him a linen to wipe his mouth.

‘I’m retiring for the day, Boaz,’ were her only words and he heard the slight quaver in her voice and knew that Herezah was as sickened as he. She had learned to control her physical reactions and he made a promise to take a leaf out of his mother’s book. Once again he privately acknowledged that no matter how much she frustrated him, she still had plenty to teach him and his father had been politically astute to choose her as his Favourite. At her words he had nodded but first risked taking and squeezing her hand in thanks for he knew she would share with no-one his embarrassing show of distress. It was obvious she was taking this new partnership of theirs seriously and it was time he stopped fighting her and used all of her knowledge and political skills instead.

Salmeo cleared his throat and Boaz was returned from his thoughts. ‘Shall I punish them, High One?’

‘What do you mean?’ Boaz had been too distracted. He privately admonished himself as he watched Salmeo’s eyes narrow. Boaz felt he was being tested by the Grand Master Eunuch.

‘How far would this punishment extend, Majesty?’ Salmeo replied carefully. ‘Are you calling for death?’

Boaz took a deep breath. ‘If the Spur does not survive the flogging, Grand Master Eunuch, then you will choose one of the Inflictors to pay for their collective failing with their own life.’

‘The choice is mine—is that what you’re saying, High One?’

Boaz hated Salmeo in that moment. He fixed him with a stare, reminiscent of his father—one he’d seen the old Zar give many times when his ire was up ‘We’re both speaking Percherese, Grand Master Eunuch. I’m sure you understand my order.’

Salmeo bowed, disturbed by the Zar’s sudden sense of power. ‘As you command, Majesty.’

‘Where has the Spur been taken? Tariq, I wish my personal doctors to attend him.’

Tariq’s jewels glinted on the ends of his quivering beard. This was not really a task he should be given but anything which ingratiated him to the Zar he was happy to see to. ‘Of course, High One, I will seek that information for you. Is there anything else I can do, Your Majesty?’ Tariq all but felt Salmeo’s sneer.

‘That will be sufficient. Where is Odalisque Ana?’

‘As I understand it her clothes were bloodied. The Elim escorted her to her chambers to bathe and rest after her night’s adventures.’

Boaz agreed but he couldn’t back down now. ‘Bring her to my private study. Immediately.’

‘Yes, High One,’ Salmeo bowed. ‘Should I inform the Valide of—’

‘My mother,’ Boaz began, unable to control his rising temper now, ‘has absolutely nothing to do with this. You would be well advised, Grand Master Eunuch, to learn to do my bidding without questioning it. I will not warn you again. I might be young, Salmeo, but I am the highest authority in this realm, or are you already placing your loyalty in the wrong place?’

The huge man’s flabby face wobbled with the effort of holding back his own rage. ‘No, my Zar. I just thought it right to caution against—’

Boaz laced his next words with as much contempt as he could load into them. ‘Don’t think, Salmeo. When the command comes from me, just do it! And don’t ever caution me again. Is that clear?’

Salmeo bowed to hide his own disgust at being spoken to publicly in this manner. ‘Yes, Majesty,’ he managed.

It was Tariq’s turn to stifle a sneer.

‘I’m afraid I can’t give you the treat I promised, Odalisque Ana,’ Elza said, returning to her from taking a whispered message. ‘We have to bathe you quickly in a tub.’

‘Why?’

‘The Zar wishes to see you.’

‘Boaz?’

The slave looked at her aghast. ‘Hush, child! Never speak his name unless he alone gives you the authority. Haven’t they taught you anything yet?’

‘I’ve spent only a few hours in the palace, how could they?’ Ana replied tartly.

‘You’ll do well to curb that defiance in your tone, Miss Ana. Take my advice, for your haughtiness will not be tolerated. Rule number one,’ she began, leading Ana to a new chamber, a small one, filled with single cubicles, ‘is you never speak the Zar’s name. He is Your Majesty, High One, Mightiest of the Mighties, or similar.’

Ana nodded. She remembered Pez’s warning that she must blend into the community of the harem or risk Salmeo’s attention.

‘Rule number two: bathing daily is part of harem life,’ Elza pointed towards the cubicle. ‘We use these rarely. From now on you will use the main pavilion and spend the entire morning there on your grooming.’

‘What a waste,’ Ana murmured.

Elza heard and smirked. ‘You’d better start getting used to boredom, Miss Ana, for you’ll spend your whole life getting ready and hoping the Zar will wish to share even a few words with you.’

‘Looks like I haven’t very long to wait, doesn’t it?’ Ana replied, wearily.

‘Oh child, you are in for a very rough time of it if you keep that attitude for much longer.’ Elza
sighed. ‘Now hurry, slip out of your robe. I have to get you washed and dressed.’

So much for a rest, Ana thought, dreading what the Zar would want with her after his public admonishment.