Goddess (34 page)

Lazar held his breath. She couldn’t be blamed.

‘Why this is Fayiz, if I’m not mistaken. He is a servant of Spur Lazar, training to be a soldier. I’m right, aren’t I? You are Fayiz?’ She gently leaned down towards Boaz.

Lazar couldn’t believe it. His head snapped up and he had to temper the delight that he was sure was flashing across his expression. How could she have known? Unless Iridor—yes, that was it. Iridor had told her. He’d risked using magic. Was that because Maliz was gone? That whole notion of the seem ingly indestructible demon being dead still didn’t sit right with him but there was no time to dwell on it at this point. Deliberately controlling his expression, he now stared steadily at the rebel, who was also eyeing him but talking to Ana.

‘And how is it that a woman of the harem—now a lofty Zaradine—would know such a lowly person as Fayiz?’ he asked.

‘Fayiz was kind to me. Before I was Zaradine I tried to escape the palace. He was one of the guards who marched me back to the palace gate,’ Ana lied. ‘We are of an age, I suspect, and no doubt he felt sorry for me. He told me his name. He was the only one of the guard who spoke to me. His gentleness is not something I choose to forget from a time when everyone treated me with disdain. Everyone, that is, except Spur Lazar, of course.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Arafanz echoed, irony heavy in his response.

‘Arafanz, I feel quite weak. If you don’t mind…’

‘Tsk tsk, Ana. Desert women can ride a camel all day, deliver through the night and be back on their camels the next, suckling their babes.’ He smiled gently at her.

‘She is not a desert woman!’ Lazar growled. ‘This woman is royal. Have some respect.’

‘Don’t talk to me about respect, Lazar, not when you have lain down with this same woman. She was a Zaradine then too but that didn’t seem to stop you. I don’t recall you worrying too much about respect or being overly intimate with a royal when she was dangling on the end of your—’

‘Enough!’ Lazar roared above Arafanz’s words and the increasing noise of the wind, not daring to look at Boaz, who to his surprise had not lurched to his feet or leapt for his or Ana’s throat. ‘You have no proof!’

‘Don’t I?’ Arafanz asked, his hand gesturing towards Ana’s belly.

Lazar looked uncomprehendingly at the rebel. He knew his mouth was open and he wanted to say something but nothing was coming. His mind had gone blank with the shock of Arafanz’s claim. All he could hear was the sound of the sands. He raised his eyes to Ana, who refused to look at him, which in itself seemed like an admission. He looked around him at the men, glancing Boaz’s way but not lingering. Boaz looked surprised but there was no rage gathering there. Then again Boaz would be working very hard to conceal himself. He wished he could explain to his Zar but the situation was hopeless. All he could do was continue to protect the royal’s identity.

He finally found his voice. ‘It is easy to cast aspersions, but no-one here is impressed with your
lies and half-truths, your innuendo and your base claims. The child is the heir of the Zar. If the Grand Vizier were alive he would tell you about the wedding and the bedding ceremony.’

‘Is that so? You think I lie? Let me paint a clearer picture for you then, Lazar, and let me prove how much I do know. Razeen.’

‘Master?’ said one of the black-robed men, stepping forward.

‘Show yourself.’

Lazar watched with shock and increasing despair as the man he had known as Salazin but also as Razeen, Pez’s spy in the Mute Guard, unravelled the linens from his face.

‘You were his man all along?’ Lazar croaked.

Razeen nodded sombrely. ‘I saw her steal out and away from the camp. I followed the Zaradine, although no-one knew. I saw you both together. Naked.’ He looked down, suitably ashame d.

‘I’m sure you don’t wish Razeen to paint the picture any more clearly, do you, Lazar?’

Lazar’s throat was so dry he wasn’t sure he could speak.
Razeen!
‘But you fought alongside me. I watched you die!’

‘You thought you saw him die, Spur. It was a ruse and his only way to return to the fortress.’

Lazar ignored Arafanz. ‘How could you do this to us? We trusted you.’

Razeen stared back silently as Arafanz continued to speak. ‘You were trusting the wrong person. Razeen is my son. We have been planning
for this for a long time. I had to give him up to the Widows’ Enclave for much of his life. He has had to pretend to be deaf and dumb for all that time. This is loyalty. This is sacrifice for a cause.’

‘For what, Arafanz? No-one knows what you want.’

‘I will share it with you before you die, that I promise you, Lazar. But we were talking about the Zaradine’s infidelity with you. And I notice you do not deny it.’

Lazar grasped at the last straw he had. ‘Zaradine Ana was pregnant before her trip into the desert. I refuse to accept your lies. And I don’t even know why we are having this conversation. Whose benefit is it for, anyway?’

Arafanz laughed, actually threw back his head and showed his even white teeth. ‘For the Zar, of course,’ he said, finally turning to the kneeling Boaz. ‘Rise, Mightiest of Mighties—there is no need for you to keep up your pretence any longer, although I congratulate you. In fact, I congratulate all three of you for a marvellous display of loyalty and faith in each other.’

Ana looked as distraught as Lazar felt and he watched her crumpl e, reflecting his pain and his despair. Arafanz had been toying with them all along. Falling to her knees, she reached for Boaz. ‘Forgive me. We never meant to hurt you.’

‘So it’s true?’ Boaz said, not moving, eyeing her directly. ‘Even though we discussed it before you left. Even though I gave you a promise and you
swore an oath. Even though I warned you what would occur if you or he laid a finger on one another?’

Lazar saw Arafanz give an order with his eyes. Not a word needed to be spoken but two men moved closer to the Zar.

To Ana’s credit she raised her chin, her voice defiant. ‘It is true, Your Majesty. I lay down with Lazar in the desert once. I will not deny it. I have loved him since the day he purchased me for your harem. I will love him until my last breath. And I shall die for that love, I’m sure, and not regret it.’

‘And me?’

‘You’ve always known. Please let us not lie to each other as death beckons us both. I tried to be faithful but failed. You should know that Lazar was more faithful than I. He argued, tried to send me away. I went to him. I seduced him. I demanded that he lie down with me.’

‘I see that he didn’t restrain himself too hard though, Ana, for you are now pregnant. They do say it takes two hands to clap.’

‘Boaz,’ Lazar interrupted. ‘Ana was pregnant before we—’

The Zar turned to the Spur and Lazar felt as though, despite the heat of summer blazing around him, only winter existed between himself and Boaz. ‘That is strange indeed, Spur, for Ana was sent into the desert with you a virgin,’ Boaz answered coldly, his gaze not leaving Ana’s. ‘We made a pact. She was not ready to become my wife fully. And I did
not force her because she was young and much had happened the day of our wedding. How curious that it was arguably the happiest day of my life—because her life had been spared, because the woman I loved had become my wife—but I now realise it was the saddest of hers, because she has always loved you.’

‘But…’ Lazar couldn’t finish whatever he was going to say, his eyes turning to Ana. ‘You were sickening. The Valide, even the Grand Vizier, believed you to be pregnant.’

A small vial landed in the sand at Lazar’s feet.

‘Razeen brought this back. Do you recognise it?’ Arafanz asked.

Lazar shook his head.

‘Either you’re lying, Spur, or you too have been part of an elaborate ruse that is none of your own doing. This is called Perelin. It comes from a rare plant found only in the desert. Its petals are curiously opaque, very bitter to the tongue. I tasted it once out of curiosity. Can you imagine what it prompted?’

Lazar shook his head miserably.

‘I was sick for many days afterwards. I lost my appetite and what I could eat I couldn’t keep down, vomiting it up soon after. It was easier not to eat until the poison worked itself out of my body. Does this remind you of anyone you know?’

Lazar looked at Ana, aghast. Ana stared back at him, her face now an ashen mask of the glowing mother who had come out of the fortress just
minutes earlier. Her head was moving side to side in denial.

‘Your dwarf friend was poisoning the Zaradine. You may recall he was allowed to wait on her when she was eating. But what the crafty dwarf was doing was deliberately ensuring she appeared pregnant so that everyone believed h er to be. And it worked. My son knew the truth—he was an artful spy and had watched the dwarf in his poisonous deeds. Ah, poor Lazar, I can see from your expression that you knew none of this, although you did, of course, know that Pez was not mad, but simply feigning his insanity. I thought my son was clever but Pez is a master at guile. I’m right that no-one in the palace, save the three of you, probably knew. How sad for you, Lazar. Such treachery all about you.’

‘The baby,’ Lazar stammered, finally pulling his shattered thoughts together.

‘Is yours!’ Arafanz exclaimed. ‘We are about to have a Galinsean prince on the Percherese throne.’ The wind began to howl around them as if echoing the rebel’s glee. He looked at Ana. ‘That is one lie I uttered between us, Ana. I care not that the blood is not of the Zar’s line. I care only that the child follows Lyana.’

Ana groaned and looked down. They all followed her gaze and saw that her waters had broken, running in a torrent down her legs, puddling in the sand before being sucked down by the parched earth. ‘My baby,’ she murmured, ‘he comes.’

‘Take them to the cells,’ Arafanz ordered, ‘and await my instructions. Come, Ana,’ he urged. She all but collapsed into his arms as he picked her up. He turned back to Lazar, who stared at the dissipating pool of life-giving liquid that had kept his son safe thus far. ‘If it’s any consolation, Lazar, blame the dwarf. He has worked against you and your precious Zar, and even Ana, all along.’

Iridor had not been able to hear most of the confrontation but from the way Lazar hung his head and Ana’s body sagged into Arafanz’s, he had to assume their situation was hopeless. He had not understood the man unwrapping his headdress or the subsequent shock written across Lazar’s face but he could only see the back of the man’s head so he could not even guess what Lazar was looking at. Boaz kneeling was also a mystery. Iridor felt helpless, trapped in the body of a bird, unable to communicate without magic he still dared not risk using.

Why won’t you draw on your powers?
Ganya demanded when he returned to tell her all that he’d seen. He had to trust her; she was his only protection now.

I don’t trust that we are safe
.

This is connected with the Grand Vizier, I can feel his presence in your mind and yet I have assured you of his death. I saw his body, bloodied and lifeless, left to rot in the desert beneath the sun, fed upon by the hawks and buzzards and vultures.

The vultures. Of course! That’s how he found us
.

What?

Arafanz’s lookouts would have seen the vultures circling. They would have followed the small caravan. That’s how he was able to surprise you.

Birds have no loyalty.

What’s that supposed to mean?

She sneered but said nothing.

Listen to me, Ganya, I am in Lyana’s cause. That’s all that matters
.

So the rest of us can die and you don’t care?

I do care. Those are my friends who are in trouble. Your father was my friend too. I am trying to find out what’s best for all of us.

You have magic inside you. Use it. Why does the Grand Vizier frighten you? He is dead and still you fear him
, she urged through the bars of her cell.

I do not think he’s dead
, Iridor replied with similar forcefulness.

She laughed.
I just told you—

You saw a corpse. It is meaningless
.

She stared at the owl.
Meaningless?

It is merely a shell. No use to him any more
.

Him?

The demon Maliz
.

She shrank back in horror at the mention of his name. Iridor felt their magical shield waver.

Be careful, Ganya, now you know why I need your ring of protection.

It strengthened again.

You know this for certain
? she asked, eyes wide with alarm.

That he has risen, yes. That he had possessed the Grand Vizier, yes
.

And now?

Iridor couldn’t say it. It was hard enough to think it.

She said it for him.
You think he has taken over Fayiz
?

Fayiz doesn’t exist, Ganya. Fayiz is a cover for who the young man really is.

And who is he?
He could see he was giving her too much disturbing information at once but there was nothing for it. She needed to know everything.

The youngster is Zar Boaz.

She said nothing for several interminable seconds as the day lightened around Iridor and the strange wind that had been gathering since dawn began to test its powers. He would need to find shelter very soon.

I’m sure you can piece together the puzzle
, he said distractedly. His mind was already racing to what Arafanz now had in mind.

You believe that the Zar of Percheron—the real one—is dead but that his body is inhabited by the demon Maliz
?

The owl swung its neck around in the disconcerting way owls can.
Precisely. But I cannot be sure, not until I look into Boaz’s eyes or he gives me a clue. Until then I have to be suspicious. The demon Maliz cannot die through mortal means
!

I’m sorry
was all she could whisper, which only served to make Iridor feel even more distraught.
Ganya, trapped in a desert prison, having just witnessed her father’s murder, was trying to comfort him.

Don’t be,
he murmured, forcing back his grief. Only Lyana’s success mattered now.
If Boaz is dead, then he is gone. As with your father, we have no time to mourn those lost. We must concentrate on the living. I must leave and get to safety. This wind is going to blow me away otherwise.

This is no wind
, she warned.

Pardon?

This is the Samazen. It will kill you. Get to safety. I will try and warn Lazar if I can.

Good luck
, he said and broke the mind-link, turning himself invisible for the short time he needed to fly into open space before he disappeared into the haze of swirling sand.

Arafanz laid a weeping Ana onto his bed. ‘I’m sorry you had to find out like that.’

‘Are you?’ she hurled at him. ‘It didn’t sound like it when you baited Lazar, with my husband kneeling in the sand before me as you did it.’

‘It’s where he belongs, Ana. Kneeling at your feet.’

‘He is going to kill—’

‘The young Zar is going to do nothing except die at my command.’

‘Don’t, Arafanz, I beg you.’ She grabbed for his hand. ‘I am pleading with you to spare Boaz’s life. He is a good Zar. I have never heard him speak ill
of Lyana. He was born into Zarab’s world. He didn’t choose it.’

‘He knows no better—is that what you’re saying?’

‘Teach him! Tell him about Lyana and all that you believe in. Boaz is a scholar at heart. He loves knowledge, he loves to learn new things. He can be convinced if you’re persuasive enough.’

‘To change faith?’

‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes searching his face.

‘To change a whole nation’s faith?’

Her eager expression faltered. ‘He can try. At least with him it’s got to be easier than how you plan to do it.’

Arafanz shook his head. ‘He is too much part of the old traditions, Ana. He will cling to them.’

‘No, no, that’s just it. Boaz likes change. He has been trying to introduce new ways into the harem and the palace since he was crowned.’

‘It’s not fast enough. I’m talking about a change that will shake the world of most Percherese. He can’t do that.’

‘What makes you think my baby can?’

‘Your baby will herald a new era. And the Galinsean war only aids my plans. War always brings change, a sweep of the broom, you could say. King Falza’s timing couldn’t be better.’

‘What do you plan to do?’ she wept.

‘I await your son. Give him to the world soon, Ana.’

‘He’ll come when he’s ready and not for me and not for you. I have no say in it.’

‘Well, until I hear the cry of a prince I shall have to find some way to pass the time whilst the Samazen keeps us imprisoned in our own fortress.’

His intention was obvious. ‘What are you going to do to Lazar?’ she demanded.

‘Whatever I choose. He is my prisoner. He is also my enemy. I normally kill my enemies.’

‘If you kill him, then I become your enemy!’ she hurled at him.

‘Do you remember our time together at Lyana’s cave, when her crystal pillars sang for you? That was a good day. We became friends that day. We have hardly been out of each other’s sight since. I don’t think you hate me.’

‘But I
am
your enemy, Arafanz. If you hurt him, I will hate you in a way I know I haven’t been capable of yet. And so help me, if I can call down the wrath of Lyana, I will beg her to use it against you and to tear you limb from limb.’

He faltered at the ferocity of her tone. ‘And I love you in a way I haven’t known before, no matter what you choose to do. But I cannot save your precious Lazar. I told him not to come back. I allowed him to escape the last time he trespassed. He can live on through his son. He knew it would mean death for one of us if he returned.’

‘Then I hope it is you,’ she said and turned her back on him before groaning as the first genuine
pain of labour began its relentless assault on her body.

Lazar and Boaz sat bound and chained to the wall on opposite sides of their windowless cell. A single tallow candle sputtered on the floor and dimly illuminated the gloom of their prison. Lazar had shouted for Ganya but either she couldn’t hear him or was located nowhere near them.

Boaz had spoken not a word. His head hung between his legs in the silence.

It was hard to find any words of comfort but Lazar tried for some sort of conversation. If he could keep Boaz talking, no matter how angry the Zar was, it meant he wasn’t giving in as he appeared to be; talk, rage even, meant he could get Boaz to fight back, perhaps work with him to save themselves…or at least, preserve his own life.

Lazar turned to face his Zar. ‘If you knew, why didn’t you just have me killed?’

Boaz took his time formulating a reply. ‘Because I’m a pragmatist, Lazar. The announcement of an heir at the time it came was helpful for the Crown. And I needed to be sure. No-one had confirmed Ana’s pregnancy, so I didn’t want to make accusations without having the correct information. Now I do.’

‘Pez had—’

‘Pez? Do you believe that story from the desert, that he could survive that time alone, lost, and still somehow find his way back to us? I didn’t
know what to think about Pez’s return. I was incredibly happy to see him alive, safe, but I didn’t know whether to trust him.’

‘You mean after all these years, you don’t?’

Boaz looked up. His face showed none of its usual serenity. His peace and his good looks had transformed themselves into a mask of hatred and bitterness, fuelled by anger. ‘Do you still trust Pez? Now that you know how he hoodwinked you?’

‘There had to be reason for it. We have to—’

‘We? There is no
we
any more, Lazar. There is the treacherous Spur and his trusting Zar. We are enemies, you and I. From now on don’t even mention us in the same breath.
We
no longer exist.’

‘Boaz—’

‘I am “Majesty” to you, Spur. If you’re going to address me, use my title.’ He stood, shocking Lazar by beginning to yell and shout for the guards. Predictably the door was opened and three men came in, checked their prisoners were still secured. ‘Get me Arafanz!’ Boaz ordered. His demand escalated to shouting, repeating the rebel’s name over and over to make himself understood. Language barrier or not, they understood. Several minutes later, after one of the captors had disappeared and Boaz had kept up his howling demand, the rebel himself appeared.

‘Zar Boaz?’

Boaz slumped against the wall, his wailing stopped as Arafanz continued. ‘I’m attending to your wife at present, who seems to be in labour.
Perhaps it was the shock of seeing her lover again, or maybe it was seeing you both or, most likely, having her secret shared. It matters not, for the next Zar of Percheron is soon to be born. Shall we call him Lucien, out of respect for his soon-to-bedead father?’ He threw a sly glance towards Lazar. ‘What seems to be the problem, Your Highness?’ he asked, his last two words, though polite, loaded with an ironic tone.

‘Get me away from him. I don’t wish to be near him, to lay eyes on him. Or give me a blade and I’ll kill him for you.’

Lazar stood, knowing that he was in no position to defend himself.

‘How interesting, M ajesty. Now that might be amusing to witness. But I have a better idea. Take him from here,’ he ordered one of the men, who did as asked, pulling Boaz from the chamber.

Lazar saw the look of hate thrown at him by the Zar. His sorrow deepened at knowing he had lost Boaz through his own weakness for Ana.

‘We shall be back soon, Spur. I would take the opportunity during this quiet period to say your final prayers. Your time has arrived,’ Arafanz suggested.

Lazar ignored the warning. ‘What about Ana?’

‘She is labouring. First child? Who knows how long—you may be dead before you see your son, Lazar. Now wouldn’t that be cruel?’ He turned to leave, and then looked back. ‘Don’t waste the precious little time you have left. Make peace with yourself and your god. I make you this promise.
I will put your son on the throne of Percheron—he will be safe and protected for all his life. He will never know that his father was not Zar Boaz, nor will any of his people.’

‘Do you expect me to thank you?’

‘The only thing I expect is that you will try and upset my plans.’

‘You can count on it, Arafanz. I—and only I—will decide the fate of my son, if that is my son. He could be yours!’

Arafanz left, smirking. ‘No such luck, Spur. The boy has Galinsean blood running through his veins. But forget escape, Lazar, none of us are going anywhere right now. You can’t hear it but the Samazen began howling this last hour. No-one can survive it.’

Ana was restless, unable to sit or to lie. She found it easier to pace through the waves of pain.

‘I cannot eat, Ashar,’ she warned as the young man sidled up to her.

‘I brought you some juice of the fresh relicca.’

‘How?’ she wondered aloud, despite the sharp ache.

‘Some of us are in the city regularly. Fruit is a delicacy in our life but I stole this for you. He won’t mind. Everything’s for you anyway.’

‘They say relicca can stimulate,’ she said, hesitating from taking the cup of pale green juice.

‘It will aid your stamina for the day ahead. Please, take it.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, sipping. It tasted wonderful as it slipped down her suddenly parched throat. ‘Ashar, I don’t know how to do this.’

‘Don’t be frightened, Miss Ana. Your baby will find his way out.’

She smiled sadly. ‘Where do you come from, Ashar?’

‘He has told me I was taken from my tribe at a young age, though I have no recollection. This is my home.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know your real home? Know if you have family?’

‘I don’t permit myself to think on such things.’

‘I was taken from my home—a father I loved, brothers and sisters who were my playmates. I think of them often. I refuse to forget them.’

He shook his head. ‘I have no memory of family.’

‘I can see that you lie. You do remember. Oh, Ashar, stop this—this is not your crusade, it is his! His vision, his dream, his madness! Run away while y ou can.’

‘He will hunt me down.’

‘No. Once, maybe. But not now. This is the end of it. This is what Arafanz has worked towards. Whatever happens over the next few days will be all that consumes him. He will not care about a runaway.’