Odalisque (26 page)

‘So you like her?’

Boaz turned his gaze from the window to the dwarf. ‘You knew I would. That’s why you risked so much that night of her presentation to the Valide. What are you up to, Pez?’

Pez leapt onto a seat. ‘Nothing, High One. I had seen her beauty and heard from Lazar of her intelligence,’ he lied. ‘I thought she might be someone who could offer you honest friendship as much as pleasant company. I’m just glad you liked her,’ Pez said quietly. ‘May I ask a boon?’

‘You will whether I give permission or not,’ Boaz said but not unkindly.

‘I sense Ana is about to be elevated to a status beyond simple slave and I’m wondering if you would be generous enough to appoint one solely to serve her.’

‘What? She’s only been here a few days. My mother would object fiercely.’ Boaz shook his head as if the whims of his mother were beyond him.

Pez answered instead. ‘I’ll tell you why she might, if I may be so bold?’ The boy nodded. ‘It’s because of Lazar. Your mother’s interest in Lazar is hardly a secret. His obvious sense of commitment to Ana, so brilliantly and rather sadly displayed by today’s theatre, has piqued your mother’s curiosity. She wants to know what’s behind it, what drives it…’ His voice trailed away at the sound of a knock at the door.

‘Come,’ Boaz answered.

It was the head guard. ‘Your High One.’ He bowed low and long.

‘Do you have news of the Spur?’

The man straightened. ‘Majesty, the Sea Temple is deserted, although we did find bloodstains in front of the altar.’

‘And no-one knows of the Spur’s whereabouts?’ Boaz persisted, knowing it was a pointless query.

‘I had men ranging throughout the harbour for any news. A child thought she saw a man being loaded into a boat but the mother was scared of us asking questions and the little one clammed up. When we tried again she denied it and claimed she had dreamed it.’

‘What sort of boat?’

‘A rowboat she said,’ the man replied doubtfully, ‘but there is nowhere to go to, Majesty, that is close enough to row to or where help can be sought.’

‘What’s that island not so far away?’

Pez held his breath as the guard frowned and then brightened. ‘There is the Isle of Stars, High One, but that’s a leper colony.’

Pez belched. ‘And who’d go there?’ he murmured.

‘All right, Briz, keep trying with your men. He must be found.’

‘There’s fifteen of them still hunting down anything they can.’

‘Wake me if you hear anything at all.’

‘Yes, High One.’ He touched hand to his heart and took his leave.

‘Take some rest, Boaz,’ Pez suggested after the guard had gone.

‘What were you going to ask me about Ana?’

Pez sighed. ‘The newly made eunuch,’ he began.

‘Kett.’

‘Yes. He would make a good servant for Ana.’

Boaz nodded. ‘I share your guilt, Pez. But now is not the time to be singling Ana out for special status. She has begged me to treat her the same as the other odalisques and because of my mother’s interest I’m inclined to acquiesce.’

‘We should help him,’ Pez persisted, again unsure why, but somehow certain that there was more to Kett; the boy claimed to be the black bird, whatever that meant. And yet when he said those words it touched a nerve somewhere deep inside Pez.

‘Leave it with me. I will not see him badly done by—perhaps in time we can consider the position you have suggested.’

Pez nodded. It would have to be enough for now.

‘You never did tell me where you’ve been all this time,’ Boaz replied and Pez realised he was not going to be let off the hook that lightly.

Tariq stepped gingerly through the doorway to be confronted by several people in various stages of decomposition. That’s the only way he could describe it. Most were old—or at least that’s how
they appeared—and each was filthy, dressed in rags. All were ravaged from starvation. He knew these to be members of the city’s lost, which was how people with a conscience referred to them. Most called them the Sewer Rats. These were people wholly forgotten and ignored by all but the Vizier and his council who wanted them removed. The word removed was broadly used. Tariq himself meant it as ‘removed from the earth’ rather than just removed from society. He would have gladly signed their death warrants, but more conservative council members were still arguing as to whether the Isle of Stars—already designated as a place for the unwanted—could be used as a convenient spot where these undesirables could waste away. Tariq was fearful that Boaz would demand that Percheron take better care of its lost people. The Vizier wanted no drain on the city’s budget for these fools who were, in his opinion, too lazy or useless to lead a productive life. The city was far better off without them.

He grimaced as one toothless hag staggered towards him; fortunately for Tariq the old girl was almost blind with cataracts and he pushed her aside. Another he kicked.

‘Maliz!’ he called, emboldened by his power over the wretches around him. He avoided a third of the damned, dropping his shoulder and callously shoving the helpless fellow into a wall, sending him spinning into the shadows. Tariq sneered. ‘Demon! I seek you.’

And I hear you,
came a familiar voice in his head.

I can’t see you.

Come closer, Vizier.

Now Tariq felt the spike of fear he had held at bay take full hold. Perspiration broke out beneath his robes and he threw off the jamoosh as much to see more easily as cool himself. ‘Where?’ he whispered into the darkness.

Not far.

The voice might be coming from behind him, he thought. He swung around wildly, leaping back at the same time, but there was no-one new, save the same pathetic souls he’d already dealt with.

‘I…I have no idea where you are,’ he called, far less confidently. ‘Show me.’ He smelled first rather than heard or saw the tiny figure that seemed to have crept out of the darkness to stand before him.

‘Do you see me now?’ said a frail voice.

He did, dismayed to be confronted by a feeble old man who seemed to be wasting away.

‘You?’ he asked, incredulous.

The figure nodded. ‘Don’t be fooled, Tariq,’ it said in the old man’s wispy voice. ‘I am who you feared meeting.’

Tariq stepped back. His arrogance returned. ‘Who could be scared of you?’

‘Are you testing me?’ Maliz asked evenly, his fetid breath making Tariq wince. ‘I’d advise
against it. You are beguiled by appearance alone, Vizier, and that is a mistake. You should keep in mind that I choose to walk in this form.’

‘Why?’ Tariq asked, trying to avoid breathing through his nose.

‘It suits my purposes,’ replied the frail man. ‘Who would think to find the Demon Maliz here amid Percheron’s unfortunates.’

‘Who indeed?’ echoed Tariq, with sarcasm.

Suddenly the more familiar voice boomed in his head.
You are the one who is pathetic, Vizier. You look at me as if you could snap me in half and be done with it. Why bother? Go back to your life, Tariq. Return to the palace and be abused by Herezah and upstaged by Salmeo and treated like a filthy servant by the Zar. You are nothing in their eyes. Nothing! An inferior, ageing politician with nothing much to contribute to any of their goals, save being a useful punching bag…

Maliz continued the stream of insults but Tariq didn’t hear any more. His anger was roused as the truth of the demon’s words exploded in his mind. He
was
nothing. They
did
all treat him as though he were dirt on their shoes.

‘Enough!’ he roared and the old man gave a black-toothed, diseased smile.

‘Does the truth hurt, Vizier? I can make it all so different for you.’

‘Prove it, show me your powers, show me riches, give me unequivocal proof that you are who you say you are.’

The old man sighed. Maliz’s deep and ancient voice said in his head.
If I’m to show you things, you will need to leave your body here.

Tariq baulked. ‘No!’

Fret not, you will still own it, still belong to it but I can take you to places that only your dreams have imagined previously.

‘And I will not die by leaving my body?’

No.

‘What, can’t you just steal it?’

Maliz laughed but there was no humour in it.
I can’t. I am not permitted by Zarab. You must offer me your body before I’m permitted to enter it as anything other than a voice.

Tariq heard the truth in Maliz’s confession. ‘Do it, then. Show me all that you can to convince me to utter the invitation you so desire.’

The Vizier closed his eyes instinctively and felt a mighty push, as though all the breath was being squeezed out of him.

See for yourself,
said Maliz.

Tariq had the sensation of trembling with fear—or was it anticipation—yet could not feel himself shaking. And similarly he told himself to open his eyes but there was no physical movement, he could simply suddenly see.

Herezah?
he exclaimed.

I thought you’d like to look in on the person whose attention you crave most.

I’m in the harem!

Not physically, Tariq.

Herezah was taking a late-night tea infusion alone but Tariq could see she wasn’t sipping from her cup. She looked maudlin and disinterested. Sadly she was clothed—he would like to have seen her naked.

I can give you that too,
Maliz breathed into his mind.

Tariq ignored the way the demon read his mind.
Why so moody tonight?

Think! You want to be Grand Vizier yet you ask the simplest of questions that perhaps even that fool, Pez, could work out and he has none of his faculties as far as I can tell.
The Vizier felt the sting of criticism.
You are aware of why she is angry, depressed tonight, I promise you. Work it out,
Maliz encouraged.
There is rarely more than this reason for any woman to be so low of mood.

A man.

Which one?

Tariq was nervous.
Boaz?

Maliz growled his disappointment.
Don’t be naive, Tariq, Herezah plays her game better than any other. Try again.

Lazar.

Yes! Of course Lazar. There is no other man that interests her sexually.

She’s maudlin because of his flogging?

Because of his apparent death, I should think. It isn’t looking good for the Spur.

Do you know everything, Maliz?

Sadly, no. I know only what I see or eavesdrop, and everything I see or hear is open to interpretation. Fortunately I am sharp enough to get it right most times. She is not so shortsighted by the way. A lot more is at stake.

She’s worried about Percheron’s security without the Spur.

Correct.

I see. Of course I hate Lazar, I hope he is dead,
Tariq surprised himself.

I know this. I know everything about you, Tariq.

Show me more.

What do you want to see now?

The harem proper. The girls.

Tsk-tsk, Vizier,
Maliz admonished.
Look,
he said.

And Tariq was moving through the empty halls of the harem.
It’s beautiful,
he gushed.

Always the best is hidden,
Maliz said and laughed.
The girls are asleep.

Except one,
Tariq replied as he spotted Odalisque Ana sitting in the bench of a window.
Can you eavesdrop her thoughts?

I have not tried. I can if you wish, but not everyone is as open to me as you have been.

No, show me the Zar instead,
Tariq demanded.

He was instantly privy to Boaz, also slumped at a window in his suite. Nearby sat the dwarf.

Another person I hate is Pez.

He is no-one.

They watched Pez suddenly cock his large head to one side.

As
usual he’s not paying attention. The Zar is talking to him. This is so typical of the ingrate.

Now they watched Pez stand, his body tensed.

‘Now what’s wrong?’ they heard the Zar ask.

The dwarf began to leap around the furniture singing.

‘Pez, stop,’ Boaz urged. ‘No-one is—’

Pez’s sudden high-pitched squeal shocked the young Zar into silence.

‘Must write, must write!’ Pez began to moan.

‘Write what?’

Boaz and his two invisible visitors watched the dwarf scrawl something onto a tablet of paper. Then he coughed at it, repeatedly. He sat on it and farted.

Tariq groaned.
I truly despise Joreb for bringing this troll into our lives.

He’s
harmless but I take your point. It’s a pity that the son thinks so highly of him.
Maliz watched Pez suddenly rise again, lift the crumpled sheet of paper and fling it at the astounded Zar.

‘The birds are pecking me,’ he shrieked at Boaz. ‘My flesh is burning,’ he howled and ran out of the door.

I just hope he has a seizure and dies some time soon,
Tariq said caustically.

Maliz said nothing, watched Boaz read the note absently and then do the curious thing of setting it alight from a nearby candle. The parchment burned and the Zar watched it disintegrate to ash. They both observed how he
suddenly looked angry and strode to the door, flinging it open and demanding one of the guards enter.

‘Yes, High One?’ the man said, bowing and straightening with a concerned frown.

‘You tell Pez that if he ever writes such obscenity to me again, I will bar him from entering my rooms. Make it clear to him, will you?’

The man nodded, stunned a little by the outburst. ‘He never takes any notice, Great One.’

‘Tell him anyway,’ Boaz ordered and flung the door closed behind the retreating guard.

Oh
that’s interesting,
Tariq said.
Perhaps a falling out between our Zar and the fool. Maybe the halfwit went too far this time.

It appears so,
Maliz admitted.
I’d love to know what he wrote that so upset the Zar.

Finally, show me riches, Maliz,
Tariq said, no longer interested in eavesdropping on the royal apartments.

As
you wish. Is this our final journey?