Odalisque (29 page)

Herezah persisted. ‘I want you to tell me what you suspect, Vizier.’

‘Valide Zara, I have no proof but I believe we have been called to hear about the fate of the Spur.’

‘Lazar?’ He did not miss the tinge of hope in her voice. ‘I can’t imagine why it’s taken so long.’

‘Can you not?’ He raised an eyebrow now. ‘I think the delay is because he has died.’

Shock hit her eyes—the only part of her face he could see. ‘What?’ she breathed.

‘I’m sure his injuries weren’t lost on you, Valide.’

She was silent a moment. Her eyes continued to betray her alarm but she did her best to hide her true feelings. ‘What has Salmeo got to do with all of this?’ she asked with disdain.

‘Everything, Valide. I suspect he not only chose the weapon wielded against the Spur, but also who would wield it.’

‘You heard what had happened to the Inflictor, what he said.’

‘I heard only the excuses of a young man not ready to take on the role of delivering punishment, Valide.’

‘And this you say was deliberately contrived?’

He shrugged and annoyed her once again with his secretiveness. Normally Tariq would be falling over himself to share his thoughts with her. Anything to impress. ‘I am making a personal observation, Valide. I make no accusation.’

‘But Salmeo’s absence suggests you might be very much on target.’ She said what he chose not to.

‘We must be patient. I’m sure we’ll learn soon enough.’

He was right. Bin arrived again, bowing. ‘The Zar will see you now, Valide Zara, Vizier Tariq. If you’ll follow me.’

‘About time, young man,’ the Vizier grumbled, winking at Herezah. ‘The Valide is being kept from the important business of the harem.’

She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. He had never winked at her before, never even acted playful before. What in Zarab’s name was happening to the Vizier?

Once they were clear of the Zar’s rooms and well away from prying eyes, Pez, who had been singing and skipping since leaving Boaz, led Jumo and Zafira into his own chamber. He became instantly serious.

‘Tell us everything,’ he ordered the priestess.

‘I told the Zar everything in front of you. I have nothing more to tell.’

He pressed. ‘Well, how about why you’re hiding Ellyana?’

‘Or the fact that you said the master died in the Sea Temple when I know only too well he was taken to the Isle of Stars.’ Jumo’s grief had hardened into anger but Pez was glad to see that the little man had it under control.

She dropped her gaze. ‘It is true Ellyana requested that her presence not be spoken about. It is of no consequence that anyone hear about her or the island.’

‘Why?’ Jumo demanded. ‘I hope she hasn’t forgotten my promise.’

‘That you’d come looking for her?’ Zafira asked and when he nodded she gave a sad smile. ‘You won’t find her, Jumo. She is…’ and Zafira hesitated.

‘She is what?’ Pez asked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

‘I would have thought you of all people would know,’ she replied, looking at her dwarf friend.

He stared at her for moments, thoughts raging.

‘What does she mean?’ Jumo asked.

Pez had his secrets but the death of Lazar changed everything. He felt he was suddenly part of a covert group. They alone knew the truth about where Lazar had spent his final hours, and why they hid this fact he didn’t know. He had always trusted Zafira and there was no reason not to trust her now, and yet she was confusing him.

Jumo was glaring at him so Pez felt obliged to answer. This time he told only the truth. ‘Ellyana came to me once. It was a long while ago. I was in the harem and she came in with the Bundle Women. She looked different then. She was not interested in any of the odalisques or wives, not even the servants. She was interested only in me,’ he said.

‘But everyone thinks you’re a dozen goats short of a herd,’ Jumo queried, ‘so why you?’

‘That’s my point,’ Pez answered. ‘She knew otherwise. And it terrified me.’

‘What did she say?’

Pez looked vaguely embarrassed. ‘Well, I don’t really understand it, Jumo.’ He hesitated, scratched his large head. ‘She said I had to discover who I truly am.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ He decided not to tell either of them about Ellyana’s mention of Iridor. Not yet.

‘Anything else?’

Again Pez hesitated, considering all the strange events that had occurred recently—from Zafira’s admitting that she felt she was part of something much bigger, to Ellyana’s return in his life, the odd sensation when he had touched Ana, the voice in his head guiding him to the Temple, the intrusion from the invisible visitor that he could sense and now Lazar’s sudden death. Bright in the middle of the mist of his mind, yet to be revealed, was the owl of prophecy, Iridor.

Jumo tired of the protracted pause. He urged the dwarf. ‘Lazar is dead because of Ellyana—’

Zafira leapt in. ‘That’s not fair, Jumo. Ellyana did everything within her power. There are other things afoot. Things I don’t understand yet. Ellyana is involved and we should trust her.’

Jumo rounded on the priestess, relishing the opportunity to release some of his anger. ‘You’re talking in riddles, Zafira. Let’s speak plainly here. Ellyana is hiding something and you’re helping her to do it. And now Lazar is dead!’ His voice cracked
on the final word but did not break. They could see how he was fighting his emotions. ‘He was rallying I tell you. I could feel it, even if I’m no doctor. That moaning and groaning was Lazar fighting and don’t try and tell me otherwise as Ellyana tried. Lazar and I have a bond that goes back a decade. You don’t spend as much time together as we did and not know each other inside out. Lazar would not have given up the fight.’

‘He didn’t,’ Zafira said, her voice suddenly cold. ‘His circumstances beat him,’ she added flatly.

Jumo was not ready to let it go. ‘Pez, when I asked you whether there was anything else about Ellyana you hesitated. Do you want to tell me everything, or is this a secret too?’

‘Why do you say that?’ Pez asked.

‘Because I’m sensing secrets all around me. I feel as though no-one is being entirely honest. Lazar is dead, his body already disposed of and Ellyana has gone. Is this not ringing any alarms in your mind, Pez…or is it just me who smells something rotten?’

Pez smelt it too but wasn’t ready to declare it. ‘When Ellyana arrived with the Bundle Women she was young, very beautiful, but she kept herself hidden. When we spoke I thought my eyes were playing tricks with me for she seemed suddenly old. No, not old; ancient. It was as if she was giving me a warning about myself and then she was gone. It was most unsettling.’

Jumo said nothing to this, simply held the dwarf in a stare that seemed to look right into his heart.

‘I forgot about her,’ Pez lied, hating to do this but needing some time to sort his thoughts privately. ‘But then she reappeared at the Sea Temple when we all met her. I didn’t recognise her at first.’

‘Yes, I remember your surprise,’ Jumo admitted, frowning. ‘So she has been deliberately following you, do you think?’

‘I have no idea,’ Pez answered truthfully. ‘Have you met her previously, Zafira? Be honest,’ he added, despising himself for being such a hypocrite.

‘I met her for the first time when Jumo did,’ she replied, ‘although ever since I have felt strangely comforted by her. Do you remember our conversation upstairs in the Sea Temple, Pez, when I said I felt something was happening and that I was involved but I couldn’t say what it was or why?’

‘I do. You seemed unsettled, unsure.’

‘Well, I think it’s Ellyana who has the answers.’

Jumo turned away, making a sound of disgust.

‘Forgive us,’ Pez said, taking Jumo’s hand, wanting to give him comfort. ‘You have a sad journey to make and are filled with grief. I will give you this promise. Whilst you are away I will find Ellyana and I will seek the answers you need.’

Jumo held him securely again with his gaze. ‘I will rely on you,’ he said, his tone thick with emotion. ‘I would track her myself if not for my duty to my master.’

‘Lazar always trusted me. You can too.’

Jumo turned to Zafira. ‘I can never forgive you, priestess, for disposing of my master’s body without my consent.’

Zafira was equally firm. ‘I didn’t need your consent, Jumo. I had his.’

‘Nevertheless. Nothing I’ve heard rings true to the man I knew.’

‘I am sorry for you in this. Make your journey and after your return we shall talk again when you are more able to understand my position.’

Again Pez noted the strange wording. She was being so careful about how she spoke.

Jumo nodded, too angry to speak about it any further. ‘I go. Have either of you any idea where to begin?’

Pez sighed. ‘Yes, I do, although this was a secret Lazar shared only with me.’

Jumo’s eyes narrowed. There had never been secrets between him and the master. ‘Why would he tell you?’

Pez shook his head as if to say he didn’t truly understand it either. ‘Perhaps so that in the event of this very situation of his death…that someone knew.’

‘Why not me?’ Jumo asked, the hurt evident in his voice.

‘Because it would have affected your precious relationship with him, Jumo. Lazar loved you too much to compromise the friendship you shared.’

‘Tell me!’ Jumo demanded, breathing hard suddenly.

Pez looked to the priestess. ‘If you’ll forgive me, Zafira…I gave my word a long time ago that I would share this knowledge with no-one but Jumo should the time arise.’

She looked intrigued but put her hands in the air nonetheless in mock defeat. ‘I understand. I shall wait outside and then we can return to the Sea Temple together,’ she said to Jumo.

He said nothing, and as she left, Pez fixed him with that strange yellow gaze of his and said: ‘You believe that Lazar is from a noble line in Merlinea. He liked to pretend he wasn’t from an important family but you have always suspected otherwise…that he was running from them; perhaps a second or third son who hadn’t reached his potential, or someone banished for having an affair with the wrong woman.’

‘Something like that,’ Jumo agreed, his tone giving away nothing.

Once again Pez sighed. ‘Lazar’s real name is Lucien. Does that give you any inkling?’

The small man shook his head, said nothing, although this news clearly startled him.

The dwarf gave Jumo his final shock for this day when he said: ‘Lucien is…was, not from Merlinea at all. He is the heir to the throne of Galinsea. He is King Falza’s eldest son.’

Boaz declared three official days of mourning for the death of the Spur of Percheron. Messengers would be sent out into the various quarters of the city to make announcements of Lazar’s passing. No actual details of how he had died would be given, even though the Zar knew rumour would become rife very quickly.

At the shocking news Herezah had retired to her chambers and demanded not to be disturbed by anyone. Boaz re-confirmed simply from her reaction, that his mother had nothing to do with Lazar’s punishment and subsequent death. The stillness of her body as she received the tidings, the horror she couldn’t hide in her eyes and the slight trembling of her voice when she asked a tentative question gave him more than enough proof that the Valide was as devastated as he was—no doubt for different reasons.

The Vizier had been a surprise. There was something different about him; something about the way he listened so thoughtfully before offering comments that would normally be rushing out of
his lips in his attempt to impress and be part of any royal conversation. Boaz even found himself appreciating his steadfastness when the Vizier cautioned against overreaction.

‘May I humbly suggest you take your time, my Zar. This situation is grave indeed, and if our Spur has, as you imply, been hurried to his death, then it will not do to leap to conclusions. A proper inquiry should be made, formally appointed and delicately handled. Let it take as long as it must until the guilty party is hunted down. The Spur was too admired by too many for justice not be seen to be done…especially so early in your reign.’

Boaz had not expected such levelheadedness. He knew of the acrimony that existed between the Vizier and Grand Master Eunuch. It was based on years of jealousy, highlighted since his father’s passing, and their collective desire to win his mother’s trust. Of course neither man had reckoned on the young Zar wanting to have any involvement in the running of the state. They thought of him as merely a boy, that the mother would rule as Zara until he reached an age when he was ready for such responsibility. Boaz estimated they had counted on at least three or four years of autonomy, by which time it would be hard for the young Zar to wrest back full control of his realm. Well, they were wrong. Boaz had every intention of taking full control now, before misconceptions about his right or fitness to rule could arise.

He had dismissed both his mother and the Vizier but not before he made a point of thanking Tariq for his wise words. Boaz had waited for the usual preening of feathers and plumping of chest; instead he had been surprised once again when the man had hardly blinked at such a compliment. Instead he had bowed graciously and simply said: ‘My Zar, call upon me whenever you need.’

Boaz had watched the Vizier gently guide his mother—slightly astonished by the man’s graciousness—from the room, careful not to lay so much as a fingertip on her person. The Zar frowned, prompted not just by the Vizier’s behaviour but also his straighter bearing. The man’s stoop had improved. He would need to talk to Pez about this sudden metamorphosis, he decided now. But first, he must order money to be given to Jumo, then he would need to speak with Odalisque Ana and break the news that would surely shatter her.

Jumo walked with Zafira in a simmering silence back to the Sea Temple. She had the good sense not to try reasoning with him again but she felt her own heart fracture when she watched him finally kneel by Lyana’s altar and kiss the dried smear of blood where only yesterday his master had lain dying. It was too much. She took the risk and knelt by the softly keening manservant and put her arm around him, expecting a sharp rebuttal, but none came. His anger was spent;
now it was all grief and in this Jumo knew they shared a common despair.

‘I’m so sorry, Jumo,’ she whispered. ‘So sorry for doing this to you.’

They remained there in silence for several minutes before Zafira painfully pulled herself to her feet. ‘I shall leave you to your thoughts and private prayers,’ she said. ‘When you’re ready, let me share quishtar with you before you leave.’

Later, as she busied herself with her brew she heard men’s voices but did not go down to investigate. Soon enough she heard slow footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Jumo standing in her small room.

‘Ready to go?’ She tried for a gentle brightness.

He nodded. ‘The Zar has sent money,’ and she saw a pouch in his hand. It looked heavy. ‘It is too much, far too generous. I came to ask you if I might leave some behind…here? Perhaps you can make better use of it in Lyana’s work. Lazar was always impressed by those who serve the Goddess.’

‘That’s because his people worshipped her more recently than here. It took longer to get rid of us priestesses in Merlinea.’ It was not said with any malice.

‘Lazar believed in no gods, Zafira. Not yours and not Percheron’s.’

‘That’s sad to learn. It probably means at some time in his life he has been badly let down. It is interesting to me, though, that he was drawn to
Lyana that day before you all left to find the new girls for the harem. We spoke then about the Mother Goddess. He felt a special pull to her statue, said she gave him a sense of peace.’ She took a step towards him, her tone beseeching. ‘Jumo, this needs to be said. I understand the depth of your sadness but you must recognise it as grief not hate. Lazar would not want you to hate me.’

‘Not you, Zafira. Ellyana.’

‘Please, I beg you, allow some room in your heart—she made hard choices but for the right reasons.’

He shook his head. ‘She made choices beyond her authority. I should have stayed. Perhaps he might have lived if I had. And if not, at least I would have been with him as he died. I cannot forgive her. She has no place in my heart. You are a pawn—perhaps I’ll find some room to forgive you, Zafira, but not yet.’

It hurt her deeply to hear these words. She wanted to tell him more about Ellyana but fear stopped her. ‘Don’t leave the money. The Zar is already donating some and you might need it—you have no idea what you’re going into, how long you’ll be. I presume you now know how far you might need to travel to find Lazar’s people?’

He said nothing in response to her mild prying. He was still incapable of believing Pez’s tale and had deliberately stopped thinking about it for now. Crossing the Faranel would give him
plenty of time for dwelling on this great secret of Lazar’s.

Fortunately Zafira was far too sensitive to his situation to press him. ‘Keep the money, for safety’s sake. You can always leave it later on your return.’

He tucked the pouch inside his robes. ‘Then I shall go. I thank you for the offer of quishtar, but another time perhaps when some wounds have healed. I have a ship to find.’

Zafira nodded her gentle understanding. ‘Then go safely, Jumo. I shall look forward to a healing quishtar with you on your return.’

And he was gone, his footsteps retreating down the stairs and padding softly across the stone of the temple floor. She watched from the vantage of her window as he emerged into the quiet of the long peninsula and walked away until he was lost in the crowd and action of the busy harbour. She wondered if she would ever see him again or whether Lyana herself would ever forgive her for hurting a good man so deeply.

Zafira steadied her thoughts. She had to find Pez again. She had forgotten to give him something important, something Lazar had insisted upon him having—another aspect she hadn’t been truthful about. It frightened her to have it herself. Zafira knew the old stories—what this statue of gold signified chilled her to the marrow.

Iridor was rising. And she was instructed to give this statue to the strange, mysterious dwarf she called friend but knew so little about.

Boaz summoned the Grand Master Eunuch, who was shown in, puffing from the exertion of meeting the urgent call to the Zar’s chamber.

Boaz gave no time for polite preamble. As the hefty man completed his bow, the Zar was already talking. ‘Did you request Odalisque Ana be readied for a conversation as instructed?’

‘Yes, Majesty. She is being prepared now, although I would caution—’

‘Salmeo, I am tired of everyone in this palace cautioning me. I shall make myself perfectly clear for the last time to you and to those who would question my authority. I will make my own decisions, good or bad, and should I ever require your counsel, I shall seek it. Until then, just follow my instructions as I have already outlined to you!’

Salmeo seethed beneath the expressionless countenance he had mastered. ‘Of course, my Zar. We have only your best interests at heart.’

‘Then perhaps you can explain why I have no Spur of Percheron.’

The eunuch looked around him, as if he thought the Zar was speaking to someone else. ‘Majesty?’

Boaz reined in his anger. He’d had years of experience watching Salmeo in action. It would be a pity to waste that knowledge so early in their new relationship by showing the eunuch that his
Zar could be foiled, pushed into explosions of anger, manipulated in any way. ‘Lazar, our Spur,’ he reminded calmly. ‘I’m wondering if you have any thoughts on how unwise it is that we no longer have Percheron’s highest-ranking member of our security force available to us.’

Salmeo appeared taken aback. ‘Well, Highness, I suspect there is much healing to be done before he can sit a horse again or command the men.’ He struggled to say more, then added to be helpful: ‘A few days perhaps?’

‘A few days? You were standing quite close, Grand Master Eunuch, I’m sure the extent of his injuries were not lost on you.’

Salmeo affected an innocent shrug. He closed his eyes, as if sympathetic to the Zar’s observations. ‘Yes, Shaz made a bad job of it, my Zar. I have confined him to his quarters since, not that he’s up to much. He himself admits he botched it.’

‘And yet you had felt confident he could carry out the sentence,’ Boaz reminded him.

‘Zar, I didn’t have much to choose from. Someone had to do this task. His superior assured me that Shaz was the best available. He is apparently adept with the whip.’

‘Yes, the whip, for flogging servants and other dissidents within the palace. Perhaps even for striping a wayward odalisque who needed reminding of her place. He had never even been allowed to touch the Snake before. I’m sure you were aware of this.’

‘I could not be sure of this, Highness. Time was short and his superiors were not available for lengthy discussion.’

‘Did you know that Shaz has never flogged anyone before, only dummies in the practice courtyard?’

Salmeo shook his head slowly. ‘My Zar, this is the first I’ve heard such a thing. How do you know this?’

Boaz knew when he was being fed an untruth. He ignored it. ‘Have you heard any news about the wellbeing of the Spur?’

‘No, Zar. But I gather the Vizier has sent out parties of runners. Has he failed you in this?’

‘News has arrived, Grand Master Eunuch, but perhaps you’ve been too busy with harem matters to hear it.’

Salmeo disguised his wrath. He would personally deal with the Elim spies who had not reported such a thing. ‘Oh, Zarab be praised. I’m pleased, High One. I did hear that a party of messengers was sent out a few hours ago and I hoped that was to deliver news of the Spur.’

Boaz fixed the fat eunuch with his best stare, one he’d learned from his father. ‘Yes, Grand Master Eunuch. New messengers have been sent at my behest to spread news of the Spur’s death from his wounds.’

‘His death,’ Salmeo repeated softly, his hand across his heart.

‘Are you surprised?’

‘I’m shocked, Zar Boaz. The injuries were bad, I’ll grant you, but the Spur was strong, still a young man. If he had the right care the healing might have taken a while but…’ His voice trailed off. ‘Dead,’ he echoed, still seemingly unable to accept it.

Boaz was confused now, although he worked hard to not show this in his hard expression. He had hoped to confront Salmeo into some sort of confession, or that Salmeo would at the very least let slip some information that might indicate he was behind the murder. Perhaps the Grand Master Eunuch really was innocent and aspersions had been cast without proof.

‘It’s all my fault, Zar Boaz. If I hadn’t stuck to such tradition then the Spur would have been spared. It’s me who has killed him. No-one else’s fault.’ The man was deeply upset and struggled down to his knees. ‘I have inadvertently killed him through my actions. Oh my Zar, I was only trying to do the right thing. You are young and we all want to support you, make the transition as easy as we can. I thought that by making an example of Odalisque Ana, we could prevent any further embarrassment to the royal family. Who would think Spur Lazar would take it upon himself to take her punishment?’

Boaz was taken aback. He suddenly felt out of his depth, wishing for once his mother was nearby to offer advice. Was the eunuch weeping?
Yes he was. Boaz wanted to look away but knew he mustn’t.

‘You might have spared the Spur the Viper’s Nest, Salmeo. That in itself was unnecessarily cruel and in my opinion a punishment that did not fit the crime.’

Salmeo opened his arms wide in a plea. ‘Oh, Zar Boaz, I would have. It was never my idea to use the Snake. You must believe me. I have never called for it before and never would unless there was a traitorous act.’

‘If not you, then who?’

‘No, Zar Boaz. I take full responsibility. I cannot blame anyone else for this. I permitted it but I promise you from my heart, Mighty One, I was trying to do the right thing.’

‘Salmeo, there is more to this dark deed,’ Boaz warned and watched the man grow still. His black face was already slick with tears and perspiration but somehow it seemed to darken as his eyes widened.

‘What do mean by that, Great One?’

‘Please stand,’ Boaz commanded, discomfited by the huge bulk of the Grand Master Eunuch imploring him from his knees. The man took several seconds to heave himself back to his feet with the aid of some furniture.

Once again he towered tall and Boaz was relieved that he had himself chosen to stand on a raised part of the chamber or he would have felt as Pez always must. He cleared his throat. ‘Lazar’s
injuries were horrific but we know this was mainly the result of an amateur’s work.’