Goddess (29 page)

Lazar felt his blood turn thick and cold, moving sluggishly through his veins, whilst his insides seemed to turn into stone. He was sure he was holding his breath. Iridor must have felt the same way; there was only a chilled silence emanating from him. Ganya’s notion hung between them, echoing through their minds.

Lazar knew in his very soul that she was right. Ana was not the Goddess—she never had been. But she had been chosen to give birth to Lyana. And this, in the meantime, would keep Maliz confused and guessing as her protective shield around the baby masked Lyana’s presence.

It is the child
, he said, knowing that if he’d had to say the words aloud, he would have choked on them.

Iridor sounded equally shaken.
The baby. Of course. How crafty, how perfect.

And then Ganya proposed a fresh thought to traumatise them.
But how a newborn goes into battle with Maliz is beyond me
.

Lazar was still stunned by the revelation, could not think straight.

The secrecy surrounding her might explain why everyone’s convinced this is a boy
, Iridor said, picking up Ganya’s threa d of thought.

Lazar nodded.
Herezah had the old crone, Yozem, do a blood-telling. She has pronounced it a boy—so cunning…as you say, the perfect foil.

Lazar!
Ganya said, squeezing his hand.
That’s the point. You must hide the child. This attack on the fortress is not just to rescue Ana but to protect the child.

Lazar looked uncertain.
I understand that but—

Listen to me, Lazar,
Iridor began earnestly,
if Ganya is right—and I suspect she is—you must hide the fact that the child is a girl. Let everyone think it is a boy, the heir. Let Ana believe it is a boy if need be. But don’t let anyone—no-one, I tell you—see that it is a girl. Perhaps we can fool him. Maybe this is the role you’ve wondered about. Possibly this is what Ellyana has always had in mind for you. Forget about Arafanz. You must guide Lyana safely out of that fortress and into hiding.

To where
? Lazar yelled into their minds.
What am I supposed to do with a newborn child?

Her mother will know what to do
, Ganya counselled sagely.

Exactly,
Iridor said, but Lazar heard a note of desperation in his voice.
Arafanz is not the issue. He is going to do what he is going to do. You are not responsible for him. Just get mother and child out of there and away from Maliz. Let him come into his power at her birth. Let him rage, filled with magic that
he cannot use in the way it is meant. Let him kill us all if he must but never let him know where she is or who she is. He will never hear about the baby from me.

Nor me
, Ganya said, her eyes open and sparkling as she turned to Lazar.

This is madness. We don’t know anything about the child yet. You’re making assumptions. You could both be wrong
, Lazar spluttered.

And yet you agree deep down that Ganya is right
, Iridor said quietly.
I felt your reaction. You were as shocked as I was but you heard the truth in it.

Let us wait. There are many bridges to cross before I have Ana safely under my care, before I can think about her child
.

Someone is coming
, Iridor suddenly spat. He broke the link and launched into the darkness. Lazar looked at Ganya with momentary shock before they fell against one another, kissing passionately as they dropped to the sand.

Who is it
? Lazar asked, realising that their link was still open—probably not closed in their haste.

My father
, she said into his mind and, at his embarrassed astonishment, she giggled softly.

Ana’s pains had become a distant rumble, reminding her that the birth of her child was near. By her calculations she was close to eight moons. It would be early but she had no say when the baby was coming—it alone was in control of her body and she would just have to pray that Lyana made this newborn strong enough to survive not only its early birth but the hostile desert into which it was being born.

She rubbed her taut, swollen belly and smiled. She herself had survived the Samazen. It eased her troubled thoughts that if she had lived alone through such a vicious event, her child had a fighting chance with the fierce protection she was ready to provide.

Arafanz came up behind her and hugged her gently. ‘Are you all right? You’ve been looking wan.’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, shrugging deeper into his arms.

‘I’ve brought you some broth. Old Soraz is fretting for you. Don’t refuse it, or he’ll use my guts to belt his robes.’

She allowed him to guide her to a small table and stool, both of them sharing gentle amusement that quiet, seemingly ancient Soraz, who cooked so carefully for her, would do anything so dramatic or cruel. ‘He told me the other day that he’ll deliver my baby for me and I wasn’t to worry, that he keeps his blades very sharp.’

Arafanz actually laughed. ‘I know. He’s already put me on very loud notice that the moment your time arrives, he is to be called.’

‘I don’t mind. He said he’s delivered some babies over the years. That’s good enough for me.’

‘I was going to ask you about that,’ he said, gesturing for her to begin eating. ‘I wondered if you’d allow me to attend you as well.’

Ana looked up from her bowl. ‘That’s a bit awkward, don’t you think?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t mean to embarrass you—’

‘No, that’s not it. It’s the abduction, the killing of my people, the threat to murder my child’s father, the hate for the Percherese. Need I go on?’

He shook his head. ‘Are we not friends?’

She looked at him sadly. ‘No.’

‘What are we, then?’

‘I don’t know. I am close to you. I feel for you. But putting it into words is impossible. In a way,’ she said, sipping modestly from the ladle provided, even though she didn’t feel like food, ‘I hate you.’

‘And yet we are bonded, are we not?’

She nodded. ‘Every moment with you that I spend hating you, I enjoy.’

Now he smiled softly.

‘Will you take my son from me immediately?’ Ana asked.

‘I must.’

‘He cannot survive without me.’

‘I have organised a wet nurse. Your son will be well nourished and I promise you I will get him safely to the city and placed upon the throne at the Stone Palace.’

‘Where you will kill his father.’

‘Yes.’ Arafanz’s eyes glittered. ‘Your child will rule Percheron. He will smash the temples and rebuild them in Lyana’s honour. Zarab’s name will be erased, his memory dust in the people’s minds.’

‘Why not put any child on the throne? Why bother with mine?’

‘Because I believe in bloodline. I believe only a ruler’s son should inherit the throne.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I see. And who will raise my son?’

‘I will appoint people.’

‘And then you will come back here to me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then it will be to place a death shroud over my body and commit me to the depths of the sands.’

‘I will have you watched in my absence.’

Ana spooned more soup into her mouth and swallowed slowly. ‘I know you will. But I will find a way to kill myself, Arafanz, if it means swallowing my own tongue or willing myself to death. You know it can be done.’

‘Ana—’

‘This is why I hate you. I don’t want my son to be born yet. I hope he holds on. I hope Spur Lazar comes for me, as he always has before.’

‘And kills me?’

Ana put down the ladle and wiped at a single tear that was threatening to escape. ‘If killing you is the only way to keep my son and to save Boaz, so be it.’

‘Perhaps you will get your wish.’

She turned to gaze into his sad, dark eyes. ‘How so?’

‘A vulture roost has arrived. They are following potential carrion.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Arafanz stood. ‘I think your precious Spur has reached my desert. A group is on the outskirts of the fortress now, freezing through the night around the smallest of fires in the vain hope that I will not know they are close. But the birds have given them away. There are no animals to die out there, save camels. And with camels come men. This is not a trading route, Ana. There is no reason for any man to be in the vicinity unless he’s lost, or is trying to find you. I suspect it is the latter.’

Ana tried to keep her expression impassive but she knew the hope that flared inside was mirrored on her face. ‘Lazar is here?’

‘I cannot say for sure. But men are here. I will bring you the body of your Spur and present it to you.’

‘Arafanz, wait! I beg you.’

‘Are you going to petition me to save the life of the man you truly love, Ana? Do you think I am so dim that I can be beguiled by all your talk of duty, of your son’s father, of the great young Zar?’

‘I have tried to be honest with you.’

‘Have you? Tell me, Ana, what is the most important thing to you?’

‘My child.’

‘I think you lie. I think another holds that claim. If you had to choose between the Spur or the Zar whose life would you spare?’

She faltered before whispering, ‘The Spur’s.’

‘Louder. I can’t hear you.’

‘Lazar’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I love him,’ she said, lifting her chin and staring at him defiantly. ‘And killing him or killing me will not change that, Arafanz. I do not love you. I can never love you. You have too much hate in your heart.’ She watched his jaws grind, understood that he was wrestling his emotions back under control.

‘I am simply doing what Lyana asks of me,’ he finally replied.

Ana stood up and upended the bowl of soup across the table, sending the ladle clattering across the ground. ‘She has not asked you to kill Lazar!’ she yelled at him, unable to control her emotions. ‘He is no enemy of Lyana.’

Surprise registered on the desert man’s face and she guessed he hadn’t thought she had such fire within her. ‘Be careful, the baby.’

‘The baby! The baby? Arafanz, I would sooner murder my own child than allow you to have him and use him to your own ends. Lay a hand on a single strand of Lazar’s head and I swear to you on all that you consider holy I will refuse this child his passage. I shall use my own will to prevent his birth. He will die in my womb and his royal blood will be on your hands. Try explaining that to Ellyana as her wicked, complex plans unravel. Do not use me. Do not use my innocent child. Do not so much as rough up the robe Lazar wears. I will find a way to carry out my threat. Now leave me!’

Whether Arafanz left to get help, frightened that she might birth the child early, or whether he turned his back on her because he accepted that she would never love him, Ana did not know. What she did know, though, was that the fragile, tender relationship that had quietly emerged between them since her abduction was shattered. It l ay in pieces on the threshold of the chamber in which she stood, breathing deeply to regain her equilibrium and to steady her excitement that Lazar was coming.

‘May I speak candidly, my Zar, in the absence of everyone else?’ Tariq said, looking around at the emptiness. Boaz and he had been sitting silently
around the tiny fire since Salim had excused himself.

‘You normally do,’ Boaz replied mildly.

‘Are you feeling all right, Majesty?’

‘Why do you and Lazar keep asking me that? I am perfectly well.’

‘You are withdrawn, mostly silent, not at all the enthusiastic Zar who set out on this journey. Is it something that we have done or said?’

‘Perhaps I’m looking forward to seeing my wife, and the child she carries…and concerned that we all might not survive this adventure.’

‘It could be that, my Zar, but I suspect it is not,’ Maliz said.

‘You know me that well, do you?’

‘I think so,’ the demon said, worrying at the embers to throw out more heat.

‘It must be the desert that makes you so reckless, Tariq. I don’t remember you being quite so direct in the palace, or so aggressive.’

‘You think I’ve changed personality?’

‘I think you’ve changed entirely,’ Boaz answered truthfully, taking advantage of the opening that the Grand Vizier provided. He was determined to get to the bottom of Lazar’s concerns and Pez’s warning.

‘Indeed? How so?’

‘Everything about you. This is not the Tariq who served my father.’

‘But we have been through this before, Highness. I thought I had explained it to you.’

‘What you actually think, no-one would know. What I think is that you believe you have beguiled me with clever words. I am young, Grand Vizier. But I am not stupid.’

‘My Zar, please let—’

‘No, Tariq, don’t. In fact, let’s start with your name, shall we? Is it really Tariq?’

‘What can you mean?’

‘The words are plainly spoken. Tariq—the man I knew and despised—has gone. The person who replaces him I rather like but I’d prefer honesty because he’s too different and suddenly I feel apprehensive.’

‘What is it that you suspect, Your Majesty?’

‘Let’s speak candidly, as you suggested, shall we?’ Boaz didn’t wait for a response. ‘Magic does not frighten me as it does so many. I believe it exists around us. For the most part it doesn’t affect any of us but a few it may touch, now and then. In fac—’

‘And have you ever been touched by it, Boaz?’ The Grand Vizier’s voice was somehow deeper, and incredibly seductive.

Boaz blinked. ‘I…I have not,’ he said, determined to keep control of this conversation. ‘But I believe in it.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t question me, Grand Vizier. Remember your place.’

‘What is it you want to know?’ The man sitting opposite Boaz suddenly seemed to be
closer and, yes, his voice was definitely deeper. Even his expression had lost that usually disinterested, almost amused look that the Grand Vizier normally adopted.

‘I want to know who you are. I want to know your real name. I want to know what you truly want.’

‘Are you sure?’ The voice had dropped even lower and Boaz felt a coldness wash over him. He felt genuinely alarmed for the first time in the Grand Vizier’s presence.

‘I insist,’ he said, forcing bravado to the surface, refusing to cower ben eath the disturbing expression that seemed to be claiming Tariq’s face. He knew he was probably imagining it—the fire, the cold, the empty expanse, the loneliness, the paranoia and anger over Ana, all playing their part—but it looked as though someone else was pushing through the Grand Vizier’s features.

‘Tell me, Zar Boaz, if you could have anything in the world, what would you like most right now?’

The dramatic switch in subject threw Boaz off balance. He looked at Tariq dumbfounded but aware that the Grand Vizier’s eyes were taking on a mesmeric quality.

‘Answer me, Boaz.’

Boaz registered that Tariq was also not paying him the usual respect, calling him by his name; somehow it didn’t seem to matter right at this moment. ‘I want Ana alive.’

‘Not your child? Is he not your first priority?’

‘He should be.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I don’t know the child. I love Ana.’ It was not a lie. What he intended to do with her was his own business.

‘What about duty?’

‘The Crown already has my life. It’s not as though I can renounce it. Ana is the only thing I can choose for myself, personally.’

‘Are you sure she loves you? Be honest with me, Boaz. I intend to be deadly honest with you.’ Tariq chuckled deeply. ‘Does she love you as singularly as you do her?’

Boaz fought the truth, felt himself trying to wrestle his answer away from his lips, but it was determined to escape, as though it was being dragged from him. ‘No.’

‘You are not sure?’

The young Zar felt himself perspiring. What was he fighting? How was Tariq compelling him to be so honest? ‘I know she loves me, but not in the way…not in the same way she loves…’ He trailed off, trying to swallow the words, too frightened to say them aloud, too frightened to accept the reality of it.

‘In the way she loves Lazar? Is that what you struggle to say?’

Boaz felt as though he was choking. A whimper escaped him. ‘Stop it, Tariq! Whatever you’re doing, stop it!’

‘Oh, but you asked for honesty, Majesty. And I’m paying you the honour you deserve by
allowing you to glimpse the real me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’ the Grand Vizier demanded. ‘I’m showing you how to be honest.’

‘Yes, I want honesty,’ Boaz choked out. ‘I’m dying.’

‘No, you’re not. I’m just making sure I have your full attention. You’re right, my Zar. You’ve found me out, although how you have does intrigue me. I have to wonder what help you’ve had and from whom.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Nothing that concerns you. Boaz, how do you feel about being cuckolded?’

‘How dare you!’ Boaz instinctively tried to stand but realised he could no longer move.

‘Ah, yes, I knew that would touch a nerve. Boaz, you are a Zar. How can you tolerate that a mere soldier—a Galinsean at that—makes a mockery of you, your title, your crown, your very manhood?’

‘You have no proof! You—’

‘I don’t need it. Your very reaction tells me that you suspect Lazar and Ana are lovers.’

‘You lie. You put that notion before me. No-one has ever suggested it.’

‘And still you overreact. Curious. A secure man would laugh in my face, although I’ll grant you that Lazar is certainly a handsome, obviously desirable man. It now seems that both your wife and your mother are opening their legs for him.’

Boaz, unable to move his limbs, helpless in his fury, began to splutter. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want to make you the most revered and feared Zar in the history of Percheron. The Galinseans will pay fealty to you in time to come. Trust me.’

‘And how do you intend to do that?’

‘I have access to powers that you can barely dream of.’ Boaz felt the sinister magical hold over him lessening, found he could breathe properly again.