Goddess (43 page)

‘And then what? Do you think you’ll be permitted to sail back to Romea?’

‘I expect to die here. In this room, probably.’

‘Then don’t, Falza. Killing me seals your death and your wife is not alive to thank you for it. I did not kill her. You know that poison was meant for me.’

‘Then perhaps I fulfil the wishes of your Grand Master Eunuch.’

‘In which case you would certainly be considered mad.’

‘So be it,’ he said, barking a harsh command in Galinsean.

Bin stepped in front of Herezah as the men moved. ‘Wait!’ he yelled helplessly.

Falza snapped another order and Bin’s throat was slashed a second later. The young man who had guided Herezah in many more ways than as a mere secretary gasped and died in her arms, his blood soaking her charcoal gown. She knew hers would be mingling with it shortly. Herezah wept for him.

Falza no longer waited for his men. He strode to her, kicked Bin’s body aside and grabbed Herezah by her hair, dragging her through her servant’s blood. She did not struggle. Nor did she give him the satisfaction of hearing her ask for mercy.

Set me down as close to the palace as you can,
Lazar told Beloch.
I’ll leave you to control what’s happening out here. I must speak with the Crown Valide.

Beloch nodded.
I will go around and approach the city from the sea.
He leaned over and gently placed his hand on the ground, allowing Lazar to slip down, his son now angrily demanding nourishment.
You’d better see to that wet nurse first
, Beloch suggested.

Beloch.

Yes?

Look to the west. I want to know where Arafanz’s people are. I want him alive. Use Crendel and Darso.
If the black-robed Razaqin must die, so be it. But keep Arafanz for me
.

And then he was running. He knew precisely where he must go. Close to the palace was a home for mothers who lost their babies at birth. It had been set up by the previous Valide, who understood the pain of losing a child, having lost her first two sons. The home gave the mothers a place to convalesce and grieve in quiet. Food and accommodation was provided by the Crown and a small amount of money was sent to the woman’s family so that they could manage without her for the days it took for her to feel strong enough to return home. Although it was a place of interminable sorrow, it was also a place of peace. It was where young mothers who had trouble feeding their newborns often came; here they would find plenty of wet nurses, eager to have a baby at their breast.

An older woman greeted him at the door, recognising him immediately, surprise in her voice. ‘Spur Lazar? How can I help you?’ she asked, frowning at his obvious hurry. ‘Oh my stars, you have a baby?’

‘Yes. He’s hungry, desperately in need of a feed.’

‘His mother?’ she asked, reaching for Luc.

‘She died.’

The woman made a sound of sympathy. ‘Poor mite. And what are you doing with her?’

‘Him,’ he corrected. ‘His name is Luc. I am his father.’

She glanced up at him in surprise, then pursed her lips, stopping whatever comment was about to rush from them. ‘I see. You need a wet nurse.’

‘I do. Er, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’

‘It’s Falip. Wait, let me find someone. Harras, where is that new girl who came in this morning?’

‘She is resting.’

‘Fetch her, would you? Hurry.’ On cue Luc began to squall. ‘You seem to be in a rush, Spur Lazar. I presume you are needed at the palace, considering what has gone on today.’

‘And you seem terribly calm, Falip, considering what has gone on today.’

She smiled gently and shrugged. ‘Where could we flee to? Most of the women I care for are grieving. We took our chance, kept faith that all would be well.’

His eyes narrowed. She reminded him of Zafira. ‘You follow Lyana?’

‘Not openly,’ she admonished. ‘We respect the religion of the god. I simply choose to keep my faith with the Mother. She is, after all, what my vocation is about.’

‘I too, Falip. I love Lyana with all my heart,’ he said, handing over his precious son with great relief into the old woman’s arms.

She beamed at him. ‘That pleases me, Spur. Ah, here she comes. Alzaria, this is Spur Lazar. He could use your help with this infant. Are you happy to feed the child? I know you’re tired but you are also heavy with milk. Perhaps—’

‘Yes, I would like to,’ the young woman replied. She looked at Lazar, her dark eyes wide and curious, but he could see how haggard she was.

‘Are you well enough?’ He glanced at Falip to be sure.

‘Alzaria delivered a stillborn son during the night. If you don’t mind I think it would be very good for her state of mind if you would permit her to nurse Luc.’

‘Of course,’ Lazar shrugged, feeling the emptiness of Ana’s passing uncoil through him again, thinking unfairly that it should have been Alzaria and her child that died, not Ana and Alzaria’s son. What was the sense in shattering two families?

Falip handed Luc to the young woman. ‘I shall be with you shortly.’ She patted the woman, gave a glance to Harras. ‘Go with her. Don’t leave her alone with the baby for too long. She mustn’t get attached.’ The aide nodded, bowed silently to Lazar and left with Alzaria. ‘Can I offer you something to drink, Spur? You look rather dishevelled.’

‘No, but thank you. I see the immediate panic is passing here—now that we have our giants.’ He smiled briefly, awkwardly. His frown returned to straighten it.

‘How extraordinary it all is. I’m waiting for someone to explain it all to me.’

‘I don’t think there is an explanation, Falip. Now I must away to the palace. I shall send for Luc, if that’s all right?’

‘Of course. Alzaria will need a half bell, that’s all. He’s hungry, I imagine he’ll feed greedily and then sleep for many hours.’

He took her hands. ‘Thank you,’ he said, never meaning gratitude as deeply as he did at this moment

‘I won’t slit your throat, Your Majesty,’ Falza said, loading the royal title with derision. ‘You deserve beheading. I shall sit that beautiful head of yours on the throne you crave, for your cowardly son to find when he deigns to return to the realm he is meant to be ruling.’

Beheading scared Herezah more than anything. Despite this, her fear of the blade crystallised to anger as she glanced again at Bin’s corpse. ‘Do your worst, Falza, and let the history books show that while your armies were fleeing from their Percherese pursuers you brought twelve men to murder an unarmed woman. How pathetic you are. A greater man would rise above his grief to lead his nation by example. That is why it is such a pity that your son, Lucien, who is more than twice the man you are, has walked away from his realm. As ruler he would lead Galinsea into a proud era not a prideful one. Like my son, he is neither coward nor aggressor. Hack my head off, kick it around the room if you will. I will not know and I do not care. I die knowing that Percheron never bowed down to the Galinsean barbarians, that we prevailed against all odds with
a Prince of Galinsea at our helm and a whore, as you put it, doing her best to hold her people strong.’

Falza had sheathed his sword but now he drew it. Its ring chilled Herezah. She begged herself to stay courageous to the last. She prayed that she would live up to her son’s hopes, and that somehow Lazar might hear of this, might know that at the end she had not disappointed him.

‘I hope you’re muttering your prayers, whore,’ Falza said, raising the sword behind Herezah.

‘Move another muscle, Father, and I won’t be held responsible to my siblings for the number of pieces I shall cut you into after you’re dead.’

Everyone looked up to see, standing in the high balustrade windows, Lazar and a line of archers with arrows trained on the king. Taking advantage of the shocked silence, Lazar swung to the pale marble floor of the Grand Salon on a rope the archers lowered. ‘It’s so very convenient to have giants on one’s side in wartime, don’t you think, Father? That’s how we all got up there, in case you’re wondering. And right now it will take just one word from me to have everyone in your army squashed to a pulp. I’m sure you know I’m not lying, if your wrecked and torched fleet is anything to go by.’ Lazar smiled and Herezah saw nothing but menace in it. She had never seen that expression on the Spur’s face before; clearly there was no love lost between the Galinsean king and his heir.

‘May I?’ he said to his father, with a politeness that was embarrassing. The king didn’t flinch as Lazar bent down to help Herezah to her feet. ‘Crown Valide, are you hurt?’

She looked into the face she loved, saw a terrible sadness reflected there along with the fury. She had never loved him more than when he was being heroic for her benefit. She felt as though she’d lived a lifetime in the space of the days since he left. One of the archers who had clambered down the same rope had opened the main doors, allowing several Elim in. The Galinseans were being freed of all their weapons.

Everyone waited for her response. She took her time enjoying the extra moments holding Lazar’s hand.

‘A little bruised perhaps,’ she said, touching a patch on her scalp that had been ripped clean of hair. ‘Nothing a Percherese slave can’t handle. Please, Lazar, ask the Elim to cover Bin’s body for me. He died horribly and unnecessarily trying to protect me from your father’s men.’ Lazar nodded, sending a runner to fetch sheets. ‘He called me Majesty while your father calls me whore,’ Herezah murmured as if to herself. ‘Thank you,’ she added, lightly touching his chest but not lingering. ‘Once again you’ve saved my life.’

Lazar looked towards Falza. ‘Father, it would be appropriate now for you to apologise for the offence you have given to the Crown Valide. She
was regent for Zar Boaz, was given royal status and must be treated accordingly. Even a Galinsean barbarian should know that much.’ His tone dripped acid.

‘I don’t apologise to murderers,’ Falza spat.

‘I’m sure you took the first aggressive action.’

‘I don’t refer to our battle, Lucien. I refer to the person responsible for the murder of your mother.’

The chamber was suddenly deathly silent. Herezah forced herself to take a deep breath in order to prevent herself from babbling at Lazar as she denied the accusation. ‘King Falza, you know that is untrue. You were present when the queen was assassinated.’ She turned to Lazar, saw how his complexion had paled at the news. ‘Forgive us that you hear such sorrowful tidings in this manner, Spur Lazar. Your mother and I met to parley on the Daramo. I made the mistake of taking Grand Master Salmeo. I needed someone I could trust—I realise my folly now but I had no-one of status to rely on. Don’t look at me like that, Lazar, I give you my word, on the life of my son, that this is the truth. Salmeo tried to poison me. He was serving refreshment; he placed the goblets before us. I offered your mother to have hers tasted. She declined my offer but instead took my goblet and drank from it. She drank the poison Salmeo had intended for me. Your father can deny none of this, for he was present alongside Queen Angeline.’

She watched Lazar clench his jaws. ‘And Salmeo is incarcerated? Or is the worst part of this story yet to be told?’

Herezah nodded, glanced at Falza. ‘Salmeo escaped. I couldn’t send anyone to give chase because your father had declared war. He gave us just days to prepare—at least he did that much. Lazar, I am sorry for your mother’s death, I truly am. I have already conveyed my deepest regrets to your father. I can’t imagine why he’d think I would provoke war when we were underway with a parley to prevent that very event.’

‘And with that few days grace you still chose to stay.’

She nodded.

‘You knew he would kill you.’

‘I couldn’t run, Lazar.’

Lazar turned to the king. ‘An eye for an eye, Father?’

‘Precisely,’ Falza replied.

‘Except you are the first to call our Crown Valide a slave, a whore, not a queen.’

‘It’s what she masquerades as.’

‘No, I must correct you there. She masquerades as nothing. The Valide knows her place. Until recently she was the mother of the Zar, that is all. The position of Crown Valide was bestowed upon her by her son while he hunted down the man who had stolen his wife and Absolute Favourite. And now, my Lord, she is nothing but former Absolute Favourite of Zar Joreb.’

Falza frowned. Herezah kept her peace although questions leapt to her lips. It seemed Falza had the same question, however, and asked it for her.

‘She is Crown Valide still, if I’m not mistaken, Lucien?’

Lazar ignored him, turning instead to Herezah. The Crown Valide suddenly no longer wished that question had been posed. ‘Herezah, forgive me bringing this harsh news so fast on the heels of everything else you’ve endured these past days, but Boaz didn’t survive.’

She stared at Lazar, waiting for him to finish that sentence. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Boaz is dead.’

Murmuring erupted among the Elim and the intently listening archers. Even Falza looked stunned.

‘He was killed trying to save Ana. I am deeply sorry.’

She understood the words but her mind kept rejecting them. ‘No. No, this can’t be right. He was simply going along for the journey. You were meant to keep him from danger. You were—’

‘Boaz was a man possessed, Herezah. It is a long story but we were all taken prisoner. The Zar died with courage, as you would imagine, against impossible odds.’

‘And Ana?’ she asked, her voice taut with the despair she was barely controlling.

‘She is dead also.’

His tone had become flat but she had already seen the sadness in his eyes.

‘The child?’

‘Alive. A son.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Safe. I shall send for him now. There is something I need to explain to both of you, especially my father.’ Lazar called over one of the Elim, gave instructions to bring the woman from the mothers’ home. ‘Let us all wait until she arrives. I will explain then.’

Alzaria cradled the infant under Harras’s watchful gaze. ‘He is beautiful,’ she said, stroking the boy’s downy golden hair.

‘Doesn’t look like he could be the son of our Zar with that colouring,’ Harras admitted.

‘He’s not. It’s my understanding this is the Spur’s son with the Zar’s new wife and Absolute Favourite.’

Harras’s eyes widened. ‘What blasphemy is this? Hush your mouth, woman.’

‘It is true. You can see it yourself. You know this child is no product of the Zar.’

Harras flounced to her feet as someone called to her through the open door. ‘Hurry, clothe yourself. He is done.’ She went to talk with the person just outside in the hallway.

Maliz looked down upon the baby, knowing it was time to leave. Alzaria’s role was finished. ‘You are not Lyana after all, are you, Luc? You are merely mortal. An illegitimate spawn of the lusty Spur. I could kill you, snap your neck, throttle you and they would be none the wiser. But I rather like that you are a delicious thorn amongst the
flowers, proof of the Spur’s betrayal. So you are very lucky. I’m going to let you go back to your rightful father and I will disappear. I have a Goddess to hunt.’

‘You are wanted up at the palace by the Spur,’ Harras said, returning to the small chamber.

Maliz shook Alzaria’s head. ‘No. I am not strong enough. You take him. Here,’ he said, handing her the sleeping bundle. ‘I might rest a little.’

‘If you’re sure?’

He could see the delight in Harras’s eyes. She was going to enjoy the responsibility of taking the child, not only up to the palace, but delivering him into the arms of the handsome, eligible Spur. Maliz smiled inwardly. Lazar would never be any the wiser that the demon had laid hands on his precious son…or should he leave a clue? It would be so much fun to leave the Spur with the thought that he had been close enough to cradle the child. ‘I’m sure. I hope the baby thrives. Please tell the Spur.’

‘He’ll want to compensate you, of course.’

‘Yes. My real name is Garjan. Will you tell him that?’ Maliz shrugged. ‘I used a different one because I was embarrassed. I’m not married.’

‘I understand. Where will we find you?’

‘I can collect anything from here if you leave it in my name. Garjan. You won’t forget, will you?’

‘No. I must go. You rest,’ Harras said, hardly able to contain her excitement.

As soon as the woman had left, Maliz climbed through the shutters and disappeared into the bazaar. They would never see Alzaria again. He’d found the stupid slut wandering the spice markets, begging for money, her newborn illegitimate son suckling beneath her worn robes. How could she resist the promise he’d given her, the pouch of money from the young Ashar, on the condition she repeat the words he gave her and stick a blade in him? He had drowned the squealing infant the moment he had become the woman and made his way to the mothers’ home to lie in wait. He suspected Lazar would bring the child. Took the gamble that a wet nurse would be required. Except Lyana was not here.

She existed. His powers and the giants coming to life were testimony to that. The sight of Ezram standing guard had filled Maliz with dread and his fear had intensified when the giant had not even so much as flinched when he had cast his formerly potent spell. No turning to stone. Not even a flicker of pain.

Maliz couldn’t understand how the giants had been released or how they were resisting his spellmaking but their protection was at once ancient and unfamiliar.

How could Lyana be incarnated and not be visible? He had not imagined the rush of power; it had filled him with the usual thrill and anticipation of the battle ahead but now it was dwindling. He didn’t understand. This was not meant to happen.

Maliz was painfully aware of the heaviness of Alzaria’s breasts. The boy had taken little—he had so much more milk to give. It was time to get rid of Alzaria. He needed a new body. He needed to think. He found himself walking the lanes that would lead him to the spice markets and, ultimately, to the realm of Percheron’s undesirables. The ones Tariq had so long wanted to eradicate, the ones that Zar Boaz wanted to help. This was where he would find weak-willed bodies, eager to take up any offer he gave in exchange for money or food. He had plenty of money that he had stolen from the Grand Vizier’s house before he went to the mothers’ home, but it infuriated him that he was back among the slums. He had envisaged himself roaming the palace halls as a Zar, planning endless nights of orgies with his young concubines.

But for the present he would have to resign himself to moving in the body of someone infirm. He needed to preserve his power, to return to that state of not being fully committed to a body. The more he walked the weaker he felt. And it was not the woman’s body that was weakening. It was him. His powers were leaking out of him. He knew this feeling. This was the sensation he normally lived through after a battle, when he had defeated Lyana and was required to return to his dormant state.

That was it. He was becoming dormant. What was happening?

Maliz forced Alzaria’s legs to run. He did not want to go dormant in her guise, with milk
running from her nipples and the likelihood that she would be raped each night when the low-lifes came looking for cheap sexual favours. Running past Beloch’s Table, he burst through the red door that led into the backstreet slums of the bazaar and looked around frantically for a potential donor.

There he was. Covered in sores. Starving, probably younger than he looked but certainly not strong as a man of his age should be. He would accept money. He would whimper joyously as he uttered the words Maliz gave him. He would stick a blade in his mother for a glass of the amber-coloured vizco and a plate of stuffed vine leaves. Maliz did not want to be this man. But he had no choice. He realised with deep dismay and confusion as he regarded his next body that his powers had leached from him as though Lyana no longer existed on the land.

Razeen sat on the plinth, the crystal pillars pulsing their colours around him, bathing him in light and warmth.

‘My father never knew I was aware of this place.’

We are sorry that you were forced to keep this secret from him. All Lyana’s disciples have keenly felt the strain of not knowing who is friend or foe, of not having access to information. It was the only way to protect her this time.

‘My father worships her. He committed his life to her.’

Without him she would not have prevailed.

‘He kept Ana safe.’

As no other mortal could. He chose the man who would raise her. He chose the man who would ultimately find her and buy her—without his whisperings in the right ears, Lazar would never have learned about the girl in the foothills. And when Ana was under most threat, it was your father who stepped in and removed her from those who might ultimately engineer her downfall. We needed the child. You know that. And now you know who needed to father that child. Everything was a risk.

Lyana could not always foresee how events would unfold. She could only choose her disciples with care. The exercise of their free will was always the unknown factor
.

‘My father would have succeeded in putting the child on the throne.’

Yes, that is likely true. But now someone else has.

‘And I must do this? There is no other way?’ he asked, head bowed.

You alone.

‘You believe he is a danger?’

He is. A new urge drives him. We cannot permit his threat to those who continue her work.

‘And when it is done, what then?’

You must speak with Lazar. Tell him the truth and then return here. There are years to wait in solitude. And then you must fulfil your final task, the one you were born to accomplish.

‘That one I most look forward to.’

We know
.

‘I shall go. Farim waits patiently.’

The pillars glowed, hummed softly in farewell to the young man who left the cave with a heavy heart.

Maliz coughed out the man’s spirit in a spume of blood and slumped to the stone floor, glad to be rid of Alzaria’s body that lay in a crumpled heap nearby. Now that his powers were almost non-existent again, he felt that familiar sense of dislocation from the body he inhabited, when he was simply a presence within it, able to guide it but without much strength or magic. He was definitely in his dormant phase but it made no sense and it was distressing him as never before. He had felt Lyana’s rising, felt her very presence in the land, felt it by the powers that claimed him. And then they were gone, draining from him fast, leaving him just enough time to return to this Zarab-forsaken place where he must live as mortal in filth and squalor.

With Iridor at the bottom of the Faranel and Lyana no longer of this earth, his time as the demon was done with for another cycle. He didn’t understand but he had held that child and there was nothing, not an ounce of power, not an iota of magic. A babbling, hungry, squalling infant was all that he had held in his arms. He had not killed Lyana. He had not even sighted her.

He leaned his head back against the walls of the tiny alley in which he found himself and accepted his exhaustion. He needed to find food again. He needed to take care of this body as best he could. And he needed to lie low and wait, presumably for the next cycle. He twitched at the thought. Where had Lyana gone?

The awkward and false calm got the better of Falza. He had tried to wait it out but realised his brooding son had only become better at maintaining difficult silences over the years.

He spoke in Galinsean to cut the Percherese whore from the conversation. ‘Your mother had hoped to see you.’

Lazar lifted his stony gaze to the king. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Father. I know how much you loved her.’

‘She died on enemy soil, blue of lip and gasping for breath in my arms, Lucien. That is no way for a Queen of Galinsea to leave this earth.’

Lazar nodded. ‘No way indeed. The perpetrator will pay, that I promise you, but the Crown Valide is not the one who should take the punishment.’

‘The Zar is ultimately responsible for his people’s actions. She was his Regent and is answerable for the murderer.’

‘And she will see to it that the real murderer is punished in a manner befitting his deed. But I will not permit you to take your vengeance out on her,
or this city. You used me as the excuse to wage war and now you are using my mother as an excuse to commit regicide.’

‘I came to avenge my son’s death.’

‘I am, as you see, alive. There is nothing to avenge.’

‘My wife—’

‘Your wife died in battle, King Falza. If you had not wished to risk her life, you should never have brought her with you to Percheron among the war galleys.’

‘She came to see her son.’

‘No, Father, she came to watch the Percherese humbled, to walk this palace and claim it as her own—a summer retreat, perhaps? I can hear her saying it. My mother was every bit the aggressor, alongside you. You both took the risk. She paid a heavy price for it.’

‘You don’t even mourn her, do you?’

‘Father, if you knew the number of people I have loved and lost these last moons, you would know that my mother’s passing is one among too many and I haven’t even begun my private grieving for any of them.’

Falza pointed at Herezah. ‘You put a Percherese slave above your mother, the queen?’

‘I put innocence above simple vengeance. This woman is innocent of what you claim. She is guilty of many things but I know she would not have knowingly threatened the stability or safety of Percheron.’

Falza lost patience. ‘Despite all that has happened between us, we admired you, my son. You are the heir of Galinsea! Can’t you—’

‘I renounced my claim on the throne the last time we spoke to one another. I have not changed my position on it. I do not wish to rule Galinsea—I never have.’

‘Then who, Lucien? Your brother, Aeron, is—’

Lazar lifted a hand to still his father. ‘I have something to show you. Show her in,’ he said to the Elim who had silently arrived at the doorway.

Everyone watched Harras enter, carrying a bundle that whimpered briefly before settling to sleep.

Lazar saw Herezah’s eyes flare with joy and his father’s brow crease with puzzlement. Lazar took the baby, flooded by an inexplicable wave of love for the child. First, in Percherese, he gave an order. ‘Everyone is to clear the room including archers and guards—Elim, you can remain outside the doors—everyone is to leave. Fret not, I can handle the king. You, also outside, please,’ he said to Harras. He gave similar orders in Galinsean and the eleven or so enemy men were escorted from the chamber by Elim.

‘What is this?’ his father demanded.

‘You will see,’ Lazar said, waiting patiently for the last of the people to leave. ‘Wait until they’ve gone,’ he added, handing the child to Herezah, who gladly accepted the baby.

When they were finally alone, he swapped to Percherese for Herezah’s benefit. ‘Father, this is
Luc. He was born to Zaradine Ana, wife and Absolute Favourite of Zar Boaz.’

‘He is an heir, so what?’ his father grumbled.

‘He is the only heir. The next Zar of Percheron.’

‘And why is this supposed to impress me?’ Falza demanded.

‘Because he is also your heir.’

‘What?’ Falza and Herezah asked together.

‘This is my son. Ana was not pregnant to Boaz.’

‘But—’ the Crown Valide began to stutter.

Lazar gave her a sympathetic glance. ‘I’m sorry, Herezah. It seems the royal marriage was never consummated. But I can assure you that Ana and I certainly did consummate our love for one another in the desert. She became pregnant by me. Both Boaz and Ana confirmed it, and one look at this child will tell you he is not your son’s.’

Herezah looked distraught.

‘Wait, let me finish,’ he asked, stemming whatever tide of insults and recriminations he was sure she was preparing. ‘Father, I renounced my claim to the throne of Galinsea but I do not renounce Luc’s. He is your grandson and his veins run with the royal blood of Galinsea. From what I recall, my brothers, much as you love them, were never the right material in your eyes for monarchs. And, sadly, as much as you detested me, I was always your first born and first choice.’