Odalisque (36 page)

The boy beamed and permitted the search. Once given permission he whistled and as fate would have it the noise had dwindled almost to silence outside the walls as preparations were underway to have Horz ride the infamous needle.

His sound pierced the air. Both figures above heard it and turned. ‘You’ve been magnificent. Don’t ruin it now. Keep looking ahead,’ Pez cautioned his Zar and then looked down again with irritation to see the young lad beckoning him. ‘What’s this?’

‘Who is it?’ Boaz hissed.

‘I’ve no idea. I don’t recognise him from here but he obviously belongs to the palace.’

‘What does he want?’

‘Me, I think. I can’t tell. Shall I find out?’

‘No. Let him wait. I don’t want you to leave.’

‘I won’t. He’s waving something at me. Let me just get it.’ Pez disappeared down the steps, pausing regularly to maintain his semblance of madness.

‘Well, you’re in luck, lad. The fool has fallen for it,’ the soldier said as they watched the dwarf descending, grabbing at the flying fruit he was muttering about loudly enough for them to hear.

‘I like Pez, he’s funny.’

‘Funny, yes. He’s also mad. I can’t see what this Zar or the old one could see in having that thing ranting by their sides all day.’

Pez grinned when he finally arrived. ‘Is it dinner already? Are we eating the elephants from the zoo?’

‘Go on,’ the soldier said, nudging the lad.

‘Er, Pez, sir,’ the boy began, unsure how to address the court jester, never having spoken to him before.

Pez stared at them both, as he scratched his crotch. ‘Did you see all those flying pomegranates just now? I had no idea they could sprout wings or talk.’

‘The, er, lad has a note for you, Pez,’ the soldier said, deciding to speed things up a bit.

Pez stared at the proffered scroll. ‘Is this my dinner?’

The man looked at the boy with sympathy. ‘Just put it in his hand and you can tell your priest that you fulfilled what was asked of you. If the idiot eats it, that’s his problem.’

The youngster did as he was told, pushing the scroll into the strangely oversized hands of the dwarf, trying not to gape at the huge knuckles and long fingers. ‘I was asked to give this to you.’

Pez smelled the note and then began to dribble from the side of his mouth, his eyes fixed vacantly on something beyond.

‘Go now,’ the man urged the lad and he watched him hurry away.

‘And the elephants?’ Pez asked, seemingly returning to himself.

‘Soon,’ the soldier said and also took his leave.

Pez clutched the scroll. He felt a chill crawl up his spine. No-one had ever written to him. The only person who might would have to know the
truth about him. That meant someone on the outside of the palace had asked the lad to get this note to him. Was it Jumo? He couldn’t write but he could have had it scribed. Zafira perhaps? Or even Ellyana? He couldn’t read it now—it would be too obvious. He sniffed it again instead, knowing others were watching him. Then, after nibbling the edge and spitting the fragments straight back out again, he tucked the note into his shirt and climbed the steps to watch Horz. He had not allowed the Lore magic to wane whilst he was occupied but he could feel Boaz’s anxiety level increasing. It seemed the executioner’s team was ready to begin what was the most hideous method of execution known in Percheron.

Boaz’s complexion had blanched so pale Pez wondered if the boy would pass out. The Zar seemed to be staring at one spot, his eyes glazed. Pez increased the wave of magic and his friend seemed to recover some equilibrium.

‘Pez,’ Boaz muttered, swaying slightly. ‘How can I let an innocent man die?’

The dwarf ignored the question and increased his channelling. Boaz was going to have to learn about situations of intolerable cruelty.

Pez looked down and felt his own gut twist at the sight below. Horz—naked except for a small piece of linen tied around his hips—was being laid out on the ground.

‘I’ve read about this in the books in the library. Do you know it was invented by one of the zars?’ Boaz seemed mesmerised and repulsed at the same time.

Pez could feel the boy leaning into the magic, trying to take more because of his fear. ‘Boaz, you must teach yourself how to let go,’ he cautioned. ‘I have you. You are safe. I can make you blind to
it if you wish, but I think that would be cowardly. Think of Odalisque Ana standing over there alone, watching her uncle die hideously and with nothing to help her, save whatever courage she can muster from within.’

It was the right thing to say. Boaz stood straighter, taller, at the mention of the girl’s name.

‘Now let go as I say, and I will keep you safe. You will not disgrace yourself.’

‘What about Ana?’ he whispered, taking slow breaths.

Pez felt the greedy grip on his magic lessening. ‘Ana is strong. Hate for Salmeo will get her through this.’ A further lessening on the hold. He had to move quickly. There was no more time. ‘Now, Boaz, I must go.’

‘Go?’ Boaz exclaimed.

‘Hush, child, I want to say goodbye to Horz.’

Boaz blushed. ‘He’s a good man. I had hoped they would pardon him. Can your magic not help him too?’

‘No, I won’t use magic,’ was all Pez would say, keen to be gone. ‘Just stand there and focus on me. I’ll be near him so it will look as if you’re watching the condemned man. The Lore will not fail you, Boaz. Trust it.’

The Zar nodded miserably. ‘Tell him I’m sorry.’

‘I think he already knows,’ and Pez was climbing down the steps once again.

The bindings around Horz’s wrists and ankles were being tightened. Four men took hold of these straps on each limb and pulled so that the Elim was now spread-eagled on the ground.

The executioner looked up to his Zar who sadly lowered his head as the signal to proceed.

The hush in the crowd was so thick it was oppressive as Pez emerged from one of the gates, snarling and running at the onlookers. They backed away, unsure. Was this part of the entertainment? Or was it just the oddity of the infamous dwarf? It was not often they got this close to the Zar’s famed jester but his reputation preceded him; he was known to be contrary, one moment happier than the birds at dawn and the next dark and angry like a gathering storm. And it looked to them as though dawn had come and gone—the storm was surely brewing. Pez was hissing at everyone, including the executioner. ‘I want to kiss him goodbye,’ he suddenly moaned, breaking into sobs. He kept repeating it like a child determined to have his way.

The executioner had been handed a thick, vicious pole, sturdy and fearsome. It was sharpened to a savage point and now he positioned the sharp end between Horz’s spread legs. It was just moments from being used to impale the trembling yet silent man of the Elim.

Pez increased his volume until he was shrieking.

The executioner looked suddenly rattled and turned once again to his Zar for approval. The
young man, standing alone, trembling in tandem with the man about to die, nodded and the executioner stepped back, allowing Pez his request to kiss Horz goodbye. Everyone near the front of the mob and those on high watched the dwarf change instantly from hysterically angry to smiling and serene. He bowed to his Zar, then to the executioner before waddling over to kneel by Horz and whisper close to his ear.

‘You are the bravest man the Zar knows,’ Pez said. ‘Go to your god with a clean conscience, friend,’ and Pez silenced any reply by placing his mouth on the lips of the innocent man.

When he lifted away Horz stared back at him in shock, for two reasons. The dwarf had tricked them for all of these years! He was as sane as Horz was—he heard it in the words, could see it in the intense yellow gaze of the man. There was another surprise too that he was deeply grateful for.

‘Shh,’ was all Pez would say, a finger to his lips, and then he was cavorting away, grinning and clapping. ‘I kissed him,’ he yelled and his bemused audience could only shake their heads as they watched his short figure cartwheeling and skipping back to the small palace gate and disappearing through it.

Their attention diverted by the dwarf’s madness, no-one saw Horz die as he bit down on the pellet Pez had passed into his mouth. The poison was swift, his heart was stopped in a
matter of seconds, and he sighed softly to his death with his eyes open and not so much as a twitch of his bound limbs. It was a peaceful, painless end to cheat the executioner of Salmeo’s victory.

Everyone marvelled at the brave Elim who didn’t even struggle when his supposed torment began. Their awe at his courage when he didn’t scream as the pole was rammed into him was so palpable it was like a living, breathing entity of its own. A few people were violently sick as the executioner used a huge mallet to ease the pole’s passage through Horz’s body, and even two of the men stretching his limbs looked away when the tip of the pole burst through flesh and bone to emerge at Horz’s shoulder.

The shrieks of disgust in the crowd quietened to reverence for this heroic man who, although condemned as a murderer, would live on in the history books as the Elim’s most famed warrior, almost godlike in his stoicism.

‘Raise him,’ the executioner called, he too taken aback by the lack of noise or struggle.

Horz was raised, impaled on the pole which was now set into the ground. He would remain there for three days until the smell of his corpse offended the palace and then he would be removed to a special mound on the fringe of the city where he would rot fully, reminding the Percherese for a long time of their Zar’s intolerance of any treachery.

Ana had closed her eyes to the terrifying scene below and refused to open them even when the fragrance of violets told her that Salmeo was leaning close.

‘Your uncle is a stunningly brave man,’ he lisped. ‘Not even a sound. I must say that impresses even me and I’ve seen the bravery of the Elim over the years.’

‘I hope his spirit never lets you rest easily again,’ Ana replied.

Salmeo laughed, despite being infuriated by the proceedings. Not only had Horz died courageously but Shaz had been released and posed a very real threat to the eunuch’s secret. ‘Come, Ana, you will learn that I am not threatened by spirits. Now let us really begin your training as a slave.’ He licked his lips. ‘I have so much in store for you.’

In the karak back to his wing of the palace, Boaz felt what was a mild headache gaining in strength.

‘It’s the after-effects of the Lore,’ Pez said matter-of-factly. ‘You should tell your aides that you wish to be left in peace.’

Boaz shook his aching head. ‘I am humbled by Horz’s bravery.’ He stared absently into the silk screen that hid him from the view of palace passers-by.

‘We all should be. I told him what you said,’ Pez lied.

‘And?’ Boaz asked eagerly, desperate for some relief from his guilt.

Pez gave him the release. ‘He offered thanks.’

There was a difficult silence between them for a few moments.

‘I am going to see more of this in my life, aren’t I?’ Boaz said eventually.

‘You will see suffering, yes.’

‘Next time I will be as brave as the Elim. I will emulate Horz and not call upon the Lore.’

Pez nodded. Boaz was growing in stature with each day. ‘I am proud of you for that.’

Boaz sighed. ‘It’s over then.’

‘What is?’

‘The business with Lazar.’

‘Not for me,’ Pez muttered bitterly to himself. He called for the Elim to stop, tumbling out of the karak before the men could halt fully. He laughed maniacally before sticking his head back through the curtains.

‘What was that for?’ Boaz whispered.

‘You need time alone. Rest. I shall take supper with you later if you wish.’

The Zar nodded absently. ‘Can you get a message to Odalisque Ana for me?’

Pez nodded, the mention of a message reminding him of the folded note pressed against his chest. ‘Of course.’

‘Tell her I’m sorry she had to witness that. Tell her I will keep my promise about the picnic.’

‘I’ll go and find her for you now.’

Boaz touched the little man’s gnarled, clawlike hand. ‘Thank you, Pez.’

Pez returned to his own chamber, the parchment scratching against his skin as he closed his door on the day’s events. For no reason he could explain he felt all of his skin itch in anticipation. It was not the note, it was something else, as though every inch of his being was prickling with expectation.

Checking first through the windows that no-one was around outside, he took the extra precaution of sitting on the floor next to a huge painted chest of drawers that held his silks. It completely covered him from view if someone decided to suddenly look through those windows.

He remembered now as he unfolded the note why the youngster who brought it was familiar to him. He had been present in the Courtyard of Sorrows. He was Shaz’s assistant, who had carried the Viper’s Nest behind the apprentice. He did not know his name.

A fresh wave of foreboding washed over him. Pez opened the note, recognised with a chill the handwriting despite the scrawl, and finally, hardly daring to breathe, read its terrifying contents.

He couldn’t know how long he had stared at the note. Many minutes had passed, he was sure, as he had read and re-read in disbelief.

‘The note tells no lie,’ said a familiar voice and Pez looked up to see that a dazzling young woman stood before him.

He could not tell whether she’d just appeared or silently slipped through his door. ‘Why am I not surprised to see you?’ he said, anger simmering not only for what he’d read but for her audaciousness in coming here again.

‘I sense your distress,’ she answered levelly.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t call it anything so mild as distress. Betrayal is the word that leaps to mind, treachery perhaps. A good man died today.’

‘So I saw,’ she replied softly.

‘And it had no effect on you, I see,’ he said darkly.

‘What I noted most is that he didn’t suffer. It was one of your best performances.’

‘Losing life before one’s time is not suffering?’

‘I won’t debate this with you now, Pez,’ she said as if suddenly losing interest. ‘There are more important things to discuss.’

‘More important…’ His voice trailed off into silent rage. He pointed a gnarled finger. ‘I’m not part of your intrigue, Ellyana. I will not be coerced as you have done to others. I’d suggest you keep an eye out for Jumo.’

She sighed. ‘Yes, I imagine he would be vengeful.’

‘Ready to kill in fact. And with every right after what happened and how you manipulated him and everything connected with Lazar’s death.’

‘I understand your anger—’

He interrupted her with a sound of disgust. ‘Where?’ was all he said.

‘You will know.’

He nodded. ‘Leave me. I want nothing more to do with you.’

‘Not before I finish what I came here to tell you. Hate me all you wish, Pez, but I am not your enemy.’

‘Who needs enemies?’ he bit back.

‘You have one. He is already hunting you—he senses you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, less sure now.

‘Yes, you do. You have the owl. It has marked you. I know you’ve lied that the white streak is only achieved with dye. It is there—it is her permanent mark. You remember the dreamscape too—I can see in your eyes how it haunts you. You know who you are.’

‘I am Pez,’ he growled.

‘You are hers! You are Iridor!’ she hissed back at him and her beauty faded with her angry demeanour. Her creamy complexion turned to translucent, parchment-like skin; her eyes,
originally a startling blue, were milky now and she shrank before him. She blazed power but he was not cowed.

‘Who are you, Ellyana?’ he demanded.

‘You know enough now about yourself to understand that the rising of Iridor is prompted by a visit from the crone.’

‘The Mother?’ he exclaimed, shocked.

‘An embodiment of her, a messenger for her, a servant. Call me what you will,’ she said, suddenly gentle. ‘I repeat, I am not your enemy, Pez. We are allies in the same struggle.’

‘For the Goddess, you mean.’ He finally said what had been troubling him since the frightening dream at the Sea Temple. It turned his blood to ice to say it aloud. ‘Go on, admit it,’ he urged, hating the way Ellyana spoke such provocative words without ever explaining herself.

‘Yes, it’s true. For the Mother Goddess. Iridor is almost fully risen, Pez, and he heralds her next coming.’

‘I don’t understand any of it,’ he said, waving her away in a desperate bid to rid himself of this frightening new responsibility.

‘You won’t understand…not until you change.’

‘Change?’

‘It’s what I came to finish telling you. You must transform fully.’

‘Into what?’ he asked, astounded.

‘Iridor’s true form.’

And that’s when it all fell into place. There was no sound but he sensed a click in his mind, as if a final jigsaw piece had slotted into position. It was as if he knew. Had in fact known it all his life. Her words felt as though they suddenly completed him. It was as if his previous life was simply a vessel and now that vessel, no longer required, lay shattered in hard, jagged bits about him. He knew in his heart she said the truth but still he had not been ready to hear it even though his whole life had been lived to get to this particular point.

‘The owl?’ he whispered, still not wanting to believe.

‘Look in the mirror. You’re almost there.’

Pez tried once again, adopting his more regular sarcastic tone. ‘I am a shrunken, deformed, mad dwarf, Ellyana, or hadn’t you noticed?’

‘You are Iridor for this battle,’ she said softly and with such affection it almost reduced him to tears. ‘You are also Pez, dear one. You don’t have to give up who you have been but you must accept who you are. Don’t be afraid—it is your destiny. You have been chosen, as all of us have.’

Another dark thought struck. ‘And Maliz?’

She nodded grimly. ‘Has risen. He is amongst us.’

‘Already?’ Fear drove him now. ‘How will I know him?’

‘You won’t. Not yet. It’s always the same. But by the same token he doesn’t know you either—
not yet. But he is looking for you and when he knows you, you will lead him to her.’

‘Her?’

‘Lyana.’

He dared not say it as he frowned, repeating the beloved, revered name in his head. ‘Who is she?’

‘I do not know. None of us does. The Mother works in mysterious ways. But Lyana will reveal herself in time and you must protect her. Be her eyes, her ears.’

‘How do I become Iridor?’ he asked, running his short fingers through his whitened hair.

She nodded gently at his acceptance. ‘Go to the Sea Temple. There you will find answers.’

‘Why don’t you know?’

‘I am a merely a messenger, like you. I know only what I’m told. We serve, you and I, that is all. Go now and don’t be seen—may Lyana bless and keep you safe in the perils ahead.’ Ellyana touched his face with fingers that felt feathery against his skin, or was it the other way around? ‘I must go,’ she said.

‘I’ll show you a way out,’ he said, reaching for the door, keen to have her gone and some silence to think.

Ellyana smiled. ‘No-one saw me come and no-one will see me leave. You keep yourself safe. You are the critical link now. Trust no-one in the palace, not even your friend the Zar. For all we know Maliz could have taken him.’

Pez grunted. ‘I would know, I think.’

‘Not necessarily,’ she warned. ‘Be suspicious of all. Now go, Lyana awaits.’

Pez made his way to the Sea Temple as if in a stupor. He had changed out of his normal comical clothes into a soft sand-coloured jamoosh, beneath which he was naked save for his white linen wrap. Pez rarely wore the traditional clothes of Percheron but now it afforded him the anonymity he needed. He required none of his art of guile as he ran, every fibre of his being tingling with his new knowledge from the note and in anticipation of the change Ellyana spoke of.

He arrived breathlessly at the Sea Temple and stood a while dragging in deep lungfuls of air. As Pez looked up, sucking down the salty air, he noticed for the first time the tiny balcony that ran around the bright blue dome of the building.

How odd, he thought, that I haven’t seen that before. Doves and the occasional seabird called from the balustrade where they were afforded a magnificent view of the harbour and the city. Pez’s attention was diverted to the dark doorway; he knew that when he stepped through it his life would change. He had no real notion of how or what his new role was to be but he understood that he had no choice in this. It was his destiny. He cast a single glance out to sea, his gaze falling across Beloch and Ezram, and reminded himself
to visit the giants of the harbour. He had been meaning to since he had first talked to Boaz about them. He made a promise that whatever happened today he would make that visit in the next few days.

And then Pez was climbing up the stairs into the cool darkness where Lyana was waiting for him. The soft smile at her lips seemed broader today. Was that a faint blush at the cheeks? He knew he was being fanciful but he suddenly felt very aware of being in the presence of the Mother Goddess.

He knelt, bent his head and reached a short arm to touch the folds of her robe, and that’s when Lyana spoke to Pez, her new Iridor, her Messenger.