Odalisque (24 page)

‘Forgive me, Ana, I meant no insult.’

‘None taken, Majesty,’ she said smoothly.

Boaz was already fascinated by her, but still felt relieved when their somewhat strained conversation was interrupted by a gentle knock. ‘Come,’ he answered. A servant entered bearing a tray. ‘Ah, I took the liberty of organising some refreshments,’ he said to fill the silence as the man laid out the food and wine. ‘I hope you won’t say you don’t eat sherbert.’

‘Oh no, I do,’ she replied and Boaz heard the girl in her for the first time. ‘I tasted it in the bazaar,’ she gushed.

Boaz grinned. ‘I heard about your adventure. It’s why I wanted to meet you.’

Boaz watched, disappointed, as her green eyes, brilliant as gems, clouded. ‘I’ve seen the error of my ways, High One.’

‘Ana, I wasn’t going to reprimand you. I was going to congratulate you.’ She held his gaze, not believing what she’d heard. ‘Zarab knows I yearn for some freedom myself.’

‘But surely you have that as Zar?’

‘I think I am as much a prisoner of my own palace as you are. I wish I had your reckless spirit. Truly. It must have taken real courage to spit in the eye of Salmeo. I know I shouldn’t say this to you but I felt elated when I heard.’ He all but whispered his words for fear the fat man could hear through walls.

‘You mean that?’ Her eyes glittered again.

He touched his hand to his forehead and then
his lips in the region’s manner of communicating that he spoke the truth. ‘Our secret, though.’

It was her first reason to smile since she had hugged Jumo the previous day. Thinking about Jumo made her think of Lazar, and a familiar pain squeezed at her heart. ‘You were there this morning,’ she said flatly. ‘I can’t derive any pleasure from my courage—as you call it—after what the Spur went through on my behalf.’

‘He must think very highly of you, Ana.’

He watched her face darken, tried to imagine what thoughts she hid. ‘I think he feels responsible because it was he who bartered for me.’

Boaz sensed she was not being completely honest. ‘He took no gold in exchange for you, I hear.’

She nodded sadly. ‘I have not been given any information as to how he is.’

Boaz knew he shouldn’t be sharing so much information but it felt so long since he’d been around someone his own age. ‘I have been trying to find out more. Rumour has it that he won’t live past this day.’ He watched shock hit that lovely face as effectively as if he’d leaned across and slapped it.

‘That can’t be so, High One! Please, don’t say this to me.’

‘But you saw the pitiful state he was left in. Even from my more distant spot I could see his back opened to the bone. None of us should be
surprised if he’s already dead but we should all be ashamed.’

‘I couldn’t see the damage, I could only see his honourable face and how much it took for him to bear his injuries without sharing the pain with all of us.’

Boaz whistled low under his breath. ‘I don’t think anyone there would have thought less of him if he’d screamed with each lash.’

‘I suspect screaming is not Lazar’s way,’ she said softly. ‘He would consider it an intolerable weakness in himself.’

‘You seem to understand him intimately despite the short term of your relationship.’ Boaz saw her frown at his words. ‘Er, I mean that you seem to know him very well.’ She did not respond and the young Zar struggled to win back her trust. ‘I have sent runners out all over the city. We shall have news of the Spur soon.’ Now her eyes raised again to regard him and he could see the hope reflected in them. ‘I shall get word to you, I promise.’

Ana studied him a moment longer. ‘You know Salmeo will be telling your mother about this meeting.’

Boaz bristled. ‘I am the Zar, Ana, or do you, like the Grand Master Eunuch, forget this?’

‘No, High One. It is my turn to apologise, I meant no offence. I am only concerned that I have been marked as a troublemaker and do not wish you to get into any bother on my account.’
He laughed. ‘I am the Zar,’ he repeated. ‘No-one has any authority over me.’ Boaz stood, feeling taller, stronger suddenly. ‘Thank you for making me remind myself of that.’

‘High One?’

‘Well, I think I too had overlooked just how powerful a person I am now. My father tried to tell me on his deathbed. He urged me to remember that I was the Chosen One. He selected me above all of his other sons to rule after him. Rule I will and I will not be cowed by an ambitious eunuch…or my mother.’

She appreciated his fighting words. Felt much the same herself but also knew how helpless she was. ‘I hardly know more than your name and age, Your Majesty, but I hope you don’t feel it is forward of me to say how proud you make me feel. You speak to my own heart in what you say. Slave I might be considered but only by others. I too will not be humbled by Salmeo…or—’ She stopped, realising she might be about to make a grave mistake.

‘My mother…you may say it,’ Boaz encouraged. He reached for his goblet of wine and drank, moving to sit by her now. The sherbets melted into a fusion of colour within their silver dishes, untouched on the tray. ‘You may speak of her before me.’

He saw how carefully she watched him and guessed she had been warned, probably by Lazar,
to trust few, if any, in the harem. ‘Ana, I am not your enemy. You may speak freely.’

‘I think not, High One,’ she said finally, disappointing him further. He had not won her trust, then. ‘I must not speak out of turn. It is probably wise if I keep my thoughts to myself.’

‘You don’t understand. I thought we might be friends.’

‘You have many new friends now, Zar. There are forty-one other girls, as I understand it. All pretty, all picked carefully to suit your needs.’

‘And I’ll bet none of them as feisty as you, Ana.’

‘I don’t know that word, High One.’

‘It means that you are spirited.’

‘Ah, I have a lot to learn it seems.’

‘Let me teach you.’

‘A Zar teaching a slave.’ It wasn’t a question and he could hear the note of wonder in her tone as if she couldn’t conceive of such a thing.

‘Why not? How do you think my mother rose to her station, Ana? Don’t be fooled by all of the grandeur. Every Zar ever born is the product of a slave. My father and his father before him, and his father before that mated with slaves and sired the next Mightiest of the Mighty.’

She nodded, frowning as if seriously considering his words. ‘Well, now you put it that way…’ she trailed off, not prepared to say much more.

Boaz pressed his point. ‘My mother was taught extensively by the harem’s tutors, but my father
was also extremely generous to her and shared much of his knowledge. I shall see you get the education your intelligence deserves.’

‘Your High One, may I ask a boon of you?’

‘So soon, Odalisque Ana?’ She looked back at him, chastened. ‘A jest,’ he added quickly. ‘Ask me.’

It came out in a rush. ‘Please don’t single me out, Majesty.’

He wasn’t sure what he had expected but he certainly hadn’t anticipated this. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I have been warned to keep my head down. I have been marked as trouble by powerful people. I have no choice but to live this life of an odalisque, but perhaps I can live quietly and not create more ripples to reach the Valide or the Grand Master Eunuch.’

He nodded, understanding perfectly. ‘I can get around this situation, Ana.’

‘I don’t see how.’

‘That’s because you don’t understand the ways of the harem yet. Will you trust me, even though I suspect you’ve been warned to do the opposite?’ He watched her blush and saw that he had guessed rightly. ‘Trust that I wish you no harm and that I would appreciate your friendship for now, nothing more.’

‘Of course—I can hardly refuse you, Zar Boaz.’

He smiled sadly. She had been cautioned well. ‘I shall not allow anyone to object when I seek out your company.’

‘Will you be fair to everyone?’ she implored.

‘If I enjoy some of the others, yes, I will spend time with them. I cannot guarantee it. My father once told me that a beautiful woman can be just as vapid or dull as a plain one. Beauty is no guarantee of intelligence or charming company. I am only now beginning to grasp what that meant and I understand why he chose my mother. She was always ambitious but she was also quick of mind and wit—this appealed to him.’

‘Is this why you pursue me, High One?’

Boaz laughed. ‘I think you’re wonderfully daring. Something I’m not. If I didn’t like you so much already, Ana, I’d urge you to keep following your spirited path and do everything you can to irritate and exasperate Salmeo.’

‘You will keep your promise and let me know what you might discover?’

‘I shall, for it gives me an excuse to see you again,’ he said brightly.

‘The Grand Master Eunuch said it is not usual to—’

Boaz was quick to interrupt her. ‘Salmeo can say what he wishes, Ana. He is not the Zar. Things are going to change. My father chose me because he believed in me.’

‘And your mother?’ she risked.

‘Is Valide only because of me.’ Saying that made him think of Pez, and now that he did he realised he hadn’t seen the dwarf since the flogging. He returned his attention to Ana. ‘She will not give me too much grief. The first thing I shall do is introduce a picnic at each full moon.’

Her eyes shone at the mention of it. ‘Outside the palace?’

He enjoyed seeing her pleasure. A jolt of desire coursed through him, startling him. ‘Of course. I too feel cooped up here. I know when I was younger and lived amongst the harem women that they always complained of how dull their lives were. For all the luxuriousness of their existence, each day was the same for them. It never impacted on me—I was too young, perhaps too indulged as an heir to consider what their complaints meant. Well, I can change that. I can organise for all of you to get out of the palace.’

‘You are wonderful, Your Majesty. I know I thank you for it and I feel sure the other girls will too.’

He beamed, enjoying her praise, wanting to see that glitter in her eyes often and feel that spark of desire surge. ‘I’m sorry about the sherbet,’ he said, eyeing the rainbow-coloured mess on the tray.

‘You’re the Zar, order it again!’ she suggested airily, emboldened by his words of power.

Pez fretted that he should not have left Lazar to the ministrations of a stranger. He should have stayed, kept vigil, urged his friend to hold onto life. Why did he have such a sense of doom? The only reassurance he could derive was that Jumo was present. Jumo would sooner die himself than lose Lazar. Pez knew Lazar’s companion would send news shortly whether the fight had been won or lost.

Lost? He couldn’t imagine Percheron without Lazar striding around it. How odd that he saw them as intricately joined, as if man and city belonged to one another. Surely he couldn’t die as a result of the city’s own punishment system?

The notion of Lazar’s mortality put Pez into a bleak state of mind. Instead of feigning his normal ridiculous moods, he plunged into a sombre one. He began counting backwards in another language. Any scholar would recognise it as Haslin but that didn’t matter. It sounded strange to the lay ear and that’s what he needed. So long as he maintained an air of distraction,
even disturbance, no-one at the palace would bat an eyelid that he wasn’t cavorting as usual. The numbers he muttered managed to keep him focused as he plunged deeper into the halls towards the harem. He intended to find Ana but as he approached the forbidden entrance he turned away. Suddenly the thought of seeing Ana made him feel even more guilty. She would look at him with large, trusting eyes and hope to hear good news. He had none to give—no news at all, in fact, other than the grave observance that it was most likely Lazar would not survive.

Instead, he waddled down a different series of corridors that took him towards the chambers of the eunuchs. This area half encircled the harem so that the eunuch slaves had easy access to the women they served.

He deliberately began to mutter to himself. ‘Where is Kett, must find Kett, how is Kett, our new pet.’

Someone passing heard him. ‘Hello, Pez.’

‘Kett?’ he asked, forcing a dazed expression and then he picked his nose.

The slave stepped back. ‘Is that the new boy?’

Pez hopped around, not answering. ‘Poor Kett. Lost his flesh. The knifers took it.’

The slave nodded. ‘He’s being attended to now. They’re going to remove the stent early, I think. You’ll find them—’

Pez didn’t linger; everyone was used to the dwarf doing everything except observing good
manners. He belched instead and skipped backwards down the corridor. After the man had gone by, shaking his head, Pez doubled back. He didn’t need to be told that the priest and his knifers would be in the Hall of the Precious. It sounded huge but was in fact just a large, airy chamber with a glass-domed roof and a central table upon which the victim was laid for the unravelling of his bandages. It seemed to Pez to be premature to be doing this, but he was not in a position to question the wisdom of their actions.

In the hall, he found a prone Kett, groaning in the middle of the room. The marble table was slightly tilted and had grooves in its sides with a drain at the bottom. It had been used for centuries for this procedure.

Salmeo, of course, presided over the event. ‘Ah, Pez,’ he lisped. ‘We wondered where you’d got to. Proceed,’ the Grand Master Eunuch ordered.

Pez hummed distractedly but focused on Kett, who seemed to have lost so much weight and yet his belly bulged obscenely. He began to giggle, pointing at the boy’s enlarged abdomen.

Salmeo hissed at him. ‘Have respect, dwarf!’ Then he turned back to the priest. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Do you care?’ the man said somewhat testily.

Salmeo leant forward, the air between priest and himself suffused with the scent of violet. ‘I
don’t. But I think the Valide would prefer to know her old friend’s child and the former playmate to her son survives.’

‘In that case I think this is our only choice,’ the priest said unflinchingly, directing the careful unwrapping of the bandages. ‘See how he perspires and trembles. His body is being poisoned by itself. We must release the fluid and hope he is strong enough. Normally I would only do this after three whole days have passed, but the swelling of his body is a dangerous sign.’

The Grand Master Eunuch nodded. ‘Do it.’

‘If no liquid is passed when we remove the stent, then he is as good as dead.’ Now he spoke in a whisper to the eunuch out of respect for the patient. ‘It would be best to help him along should that occur.’

‘I understand.’

The horrific wound inflicted by the sharp curved blade was revealed, the pewter tube looking insanely odd as it poked upwards from the mess of the boy’s groin.

The men attending to him and even those observing became so silent and still that Pez was sure they must all look like a painting. He presumed all the men around him were remembering their own similarly traumatic experiences.

‘He is young,’ Salmeo muttered softly as if to reassure himself as the priest, reciting a prayer, reached for the pewter stick.

As the man pulled on the stent, Kett screamed.

‘Pah! It is stuck,’ the priest admitted. ‘Quick, warm water and oil to ease the flesh back. Hurry!’ he urged the helpers.

The area was bathed and although Pez presumed this was done gently it did not sound as though the effects were gentle. Kett continued to writhe pathetically against the strong arms that pinned him to the cool marble. They did not soften his protest, though, and he sang it loudly, cursing the very mothers who bore them, losing vital strength with each insult.

The priest pulled again sharply on the tube and it gave. Behind it gushed a torrent of bloodied water and the relief in Kett’s anguished sighs was obvious. The flow continued with force for several seconds and then dwindled but didn’t stop, not for a long time, and Pez noted now how well designed that marble table was for its purpose, draining the waste efficiently, cooling the slightly fevered body.

Salmeo looked expectantly at the priest, who nodded. ‘He will live,’ he pronounced. ‘The water is running clear.’

‘I shall tell the Valide,’ Salmeo said, his shoulders relaxing as he departed, ignoring Pez who danced away from beneath the approaching bulk.

Pez approached. ‘Can he hear me if I sing?’

‘He is conscious,’ the priest answered as if he was replying to someone sane.

‘And what if I whispered?’ He grinned insanely.

The priest rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘Don’t upset him, Pez,’ he warned.

That was the last thing Pez intended but he smiled indolently all the same, knowing no-one present could deny him anything he chose to do, such was the Zar’s law. Pez leaned close to Kett’s head.

‘Kett, it’s Pez. You’ve made it.’

The boy said nothing, although his groans continued. ‘I’m going to make a suggestion for your work and you’re going to accept it the moment it’s offered. Understand? Don’t say anything just take my hand,’ he said, his hand already hovering nonchalantly over Kett’s. He felt a soft squeeze. ‘Good boy,’ he whispered. ‘Just trust me now. You get stronger—work hard to heal. Now cry out as if I’ve antagonised you.’

Kett gave a weak yell.

Pez giggled.

‘Begone, Pez,’ the priest said wearily. ‘Isn’t it enough that this boy nearly lost his life?’ He knew it was a pointless accusation for the dwarf hardly understood anything anyone said to him.

Pez began to sing nonsense, dancing his way to the door. Kett was safe. Now he had to find Boaz.

Lazar was semiconscious now and raging. The very mild sedative, which was all Ellyana could risk, had worn off and it was taking all of Jumo’s
strength to hold him still whilst Zafira finished dressing his wounds.

‘His back looks like a bad piece of child’s practice sewing,’ she commented, embarrassed by her work.

‘Such beautiful skin he has too,’ Ellyana said softly from behind.

‘Lazar! Hush!’ Jumo cried. ‘We are tending to you.’

‘He can’t help it, Jumo, and he cannot hear you, I suspect,’ Ellyana advised in her quiet manner. ‘It’s the poison. It makes him angry.’ Jumo saw some dark humour in her comment. ‘You are amused?’ she asked.

‘He’s always angry,’ Jumo replied dryly. ‘But I presume this is a good omen, him being angry enough to fight us?’

Once again his hopes were dashed. ‘The opposite. It means the poison is winning.’

‘I’m done,’ Zafira said wearily, stretching. ‘His wounds are sewn—as best I can—the salve is on and I’ve dressed all of his back.’

As if the demons within had suddenly lost energy at her words Lazar slumped against the mattress, silent. In fact he became so still that Jumo had to look carefully to convince himself that his friend still breathed.

‘They will need to be changed twice daily,’ Ellyana warned.

Both listeners nodded absently, lost in dire thoughts.

‘Are we losing him?’ Jumo asked.

She stared into his earnest expression, desperately wanting to lie and ease his pain but she couldn’t. ‘I won’t tell untruths for comfort’s sake. He’s dying, Jumo. This is the final stage before the venom works on the heart. I think perhaps we were too late.’

‘No!’ She laid a hand on him and he shook it away. ‘We have to save him. You brought us here, you made him make that journey across the water and up the cliff side.’ His voice broke. ‘You save him,’ he demanded. He glanced towards Zafira through a mist of tears he refused to spill and he could see the hopelessness in her gaze. So she too understood that Lazar was as good as lost, even after all her work.

‘Jumo,’ Ellyana began.

‘Don’t placate me,’ he warned. ‘You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t have a vested interest in him. I don’t know what that interest is, and to be honest I don’t care. I just want you to try, even if you think you’re wasting your time.’

‘No waste to save this man’s life,’ she uttered softly. ‘I want him to live too but I want you to understand that it’s not within my power to give him life.’

‘But you can try to save it!’

‘Yes,’ she nodded, resignation in the soft sigh that followed. ‘I will try for you.’ She picked up the cooled pot of liquid she had made. ‘This special tea we’ve brewed is from the rare circad. It is the only
thing I’ve discovered that can act aggressively against snake poison and it is especially effective against drezden…if administered quickly enough.’

‘How often do we give him the tea?’ Jumo asked.

‘As often as he will tolerate it. It is unpleasantly bitter. The more we get into him, the better his chances of healing. He will bring it back up but we just have to persevere.’

‘Then I will persevere,’ he echoed firmly.

Ellyana smiled sadly. ‘Jumo, leave this to the women. You have done all you can.’

‘What?’ Jumo could barely think beyond his commitment to Lazar—the fear of leaving him alone in such a perilous state showed itself in a rare angry frown.

‘Go back to the city,’ she replied calmly. ‘Wait for news.’

‘But why not—’ he began, but was stilled by the sad smile on the face of the old woman and the way she calmly lifted a finger to quieten him.

‘Jumo, we now know that Lazar has enemies within the palace who feel sufficiently threatened by him to make a very determined attempt on his life. We are presuming it is the Grand Master Eunuch at work but we are not certain. The Vizier could be involved, the Valide might have a hand in it, even the Zar if he’s been compromised in some way.’

‘Never,’ Jumo whispered, further angered by the suggestion, for Lazar had such faith in Boaz.

‘We cannot be sure, is all I’m saying and we shouldn’t risk our tiny chance at reviving him by letting anyone know where he is.’

Bitterness laced his tone. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Return to Lazar’s house and await information. If he lives, you can spread the good news and be our eyes. Watch for who reacts positively but mostly for who does not. Pez will be a great help in this. But you can keep your ear to the ground around the city and listen to what the people are saying. We need to know that Salmeo and his cohorts aren’t spreading rumours about the Spur. We must be informed of Lazar’s position before he sets foot back in the city.’

‘You speak as if you believe he will live,’ Jumo observed.

‘If he dies, Jumo, then you and Pez can still be of more use to Lazar in Percheron proper than here. You can see who relishes the news of his death, react quickly. Either way you are serving your master best by being close to the palace.’

Jumo shook his head. ‘I would prefer to be with him…to the end if necessary. I don’t want this man dying alone.’

‘He won’t be alone,’ she countered firmly. ‘Zafira and I will be at his side for every minute that he breathes.’

‘I can’t leave him,’ he beseeched. ‘I couldn’t live with myself if anything should happen.’

Ellyana took his hand in hers. ‘I will give every bit of myself towards saving him—so will Zafira. It doesn’t need three of us and Lazar can benefit from your presence elsewhere.’

Jumo closed his eyes with frustration. ‘But the very moment I return to his home I will be besieged with enquiries. What am I to tell them? They will find out where he is anyway, so how am I protecting him?’

‘Quite simply, friend Jumo, because you will not tell the truth. Our aim is to keep his antagonists well away from him until we know he’s strong enough again.’ She shrugged. ‘So, without knowing who his enemies are, we must treat all of them as foe. You must lie. You will tell anyone who asks after Lazar that following your arrival at the Sea Temple, where he requested you take him, he fell deathly ill. The priestess said she would do what she could for him and suggested you leave him with her for a while until she could assess the extent of his injuries.’

‘No-one will believe this,’ he said.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘You can say you were so shocked by Lazar’s condition that you weren’t thinking straight. She gave you a drink and you had no idea that it was drugged with a sedative. When you woke Lazar was gone and you’ve been searching ever since and found no sign of him.’

His incredulity deepened. ‘You think they’ll accept any of it?’

‘Yes, because there is no word of him. There is no sign of him. No-one saw us leave with him, and no-one must see you return. You will have to go in disguise.’