Goddess (45 page)

She watched him pace, the quishtar she had ordered and elegantly poured with her own hand left untouched to lose its fragrance, to turn cold. It had been two days since Falza had nearly taken her head off. She still couldn’t prevent herself from touching her throat from time to time in some sort of lingering reflex. She had insisted on supervising Bin’s corpse all the way to the palace morgue and had personally commiserated with his parents at the loss of their brave son. She desperately missed his calming way and Lazar was not helping her nerves one bit as she tried to figure out this daunting, exciting new role of hers.

‘You know this wet nurse?’ he said suddenly, startling her.

‘Yes, she’s not from the mothers’ home. She’s a woman I’ve known from my days as odalisque, Lazar.’ She saw his expression change. ‘No, she’s not feeding Luc, obviously. It’s her daughter, who seems to never stop giving my friend grandchildren.’

‘And you were there when she fed him?’

‘Yes, I’ve said it before. She didn’t even know what I’d called her there for. I kept to your strange secret arrangements to the letter. And she’s here now, in the next room, under guard feeding him. No-one but myself or Elza will care for his needs beyond the feeding. What are you frightened of?’

‘I can’t go into it, Herezah. But precautions must be taken. The woman I spoke of, Garjan?’ She nodded. ‘She was dangerous to him. How he survived I still don’t know.’

‘You haven’t explained anything, Lazar. But I know you’re grieving like me and I can forgive you your curious behaviour. Listen to me, Lazar. Please pay attention and cease your restless pacing.’

He swung around, exasperated. ‘What is it?’

‘I am going to make you a promise today. I want to you to know that I make it with great honesty. I have no intention of breaking it.’

‘Go on.’

‘It’s about us. No, wait—you must hear me out.’ She forced him to hold her gaze, standing up and insisting he let her take his hand.

‘Herezah, I—’

‘Hush. Now listen to me. Percheron has entered a new era. I am part of it. You have made me integral to it. And I will not let you down, or my poor dead son, or the faith my husband Joreb showed in me. As much as he might turn in his grave to know that a woman leads Percheron, I think he would approve that it is me.’

‘I do too.’

‘I know. And that is why I make you this promise that what is past is the past for me. As much as I desire it I now realise you and I can never be together in the way I would like and I would rather call you friend and feel the warmth of your smile than call you lover and feel the coldness of an insincere kiss. I took advantage of you, Lazar, but you must know it was driven by a genuine need, a genuine love even if I allowed my own ambition to cloud my good sense. I make no claim upon you. I will never make you feel uncomfortable or awkward around me. I want us to be friends. And by that I mean that I look forward to your companionship for supper now and then, to your advice and constant counsel. I make no other demands of you physically or emotionally. I realise no-one will take Ana’s place.’

‘Thank you,’ he said and she heard the deep relief in his voice.

‘We’re raising your son together. He needs us both. I know you will want to tell him about his mother, as much as I must tell him about his “father”. Will you ever tell him the truth?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t think that far ahead. I am worried that he simply gets through this night, let alone the coming years.’

‘Stop worrying. There are Elim guarding all our doors. Your giants are never far. It’s time for you to let the fear go, Lazar. Luc is safe. Percheron is safe. And I am safe, which—’

‘Whatever makes you say that, Valide?’

They both swung around, startled at the sound of Arafanz’s voice as he stepped lightly from the balcony into the chamber.

‘Zarab save me! He has Luc,’ Herezah hissed, hardly able to credit what she was seeing.

‘Zarab will not save you, Valide. Lazar, don’t think of drawing that weapon. If either of you call out to the guards I will slit the child’s throat.’

‘What, when you have previously committed your life to this child sitting the throne?’ Lazar challenged. But Herezah heard the fear for his son underneath his bravado.

‘No, Spur, I committed my life to destroying the royal structure of Percheron. I wanted the faith changed, which I gather has already been discussed; the harem disbanded, which I hear will occur soon; and Joreb’s only remaining spawn dead, which you seemed to do very ably for me.’

‘What does he mean?’ Herezah asked.

‘Didn’t Lazar tell you everything that unfolded in the desert?’ He made a soft sound of admonishment towards the Spur.

‘Arafanz—’

‘You see, Valide,’ Arafanz continued, moving deeper into the room with Luc nestled comfortably in his arms, to make room for his Razaqin to enter. One was unhooded and Herezah recognised him, her disbelief deepening. ‘I’m not sure how Lazar explained away the death of your son but whatever he did say probably didn’t give
you the ghoulish detail that it was he who murdered the unarmed Zar.’

Herezah let go of Lazar as if burned. ‘What?’ She felt as if all her breath had been sucked from her. ‘Lazar?’

‘Tell her, Spur. Tell her the truth.’

‘It’s true.’

She stared at him, shock and fright mingling to make her feel weak-kneed and dizzy.

‘Herezah, I will explain it but you need to know that Boaz had suffered some sort of change. He planned to kill Ana, to kill me, perhaps even Luc. He’d entered a madness from which there was no escape.’

‘You lie,’ she said, slowly shaking her head.

‘Of course he lies,’ Arafanz taunted. ‘He wanted Ana all to himself.’

‘Herezah, I have no reason to lie to you.’

‘He wanted his child on the throne, Valide. Imagine it—Galinsean blood atop the Percherese throne. Falza must love it!’

‘I’m sure he does,’ Lazar countered and Herezah heard the ice in his voice. Recognised it. Lazar spoke like this when he was supremely confident. He didn’t feel at all threatened by Arafanz’s taunts. ‘But if I merely wanted to put a Galinsean on the Percherese throne I could have helped my father’s cause and taken it myself. This new Zar is half Percherese and he will be raised by, and will learn to govern, from a Percherese grandmother whether she’s blood or not. Does this sound to you
like someone who simply wants a Galinsean on the throne, or does this sound more like someone who is following Lyana’s wishes?’

Herezah didn’t understand what Lazar was talking about, bringing the Goddess into the fray, but he certainly seemed obsessed with her, what with changing over the faith and tearing down the temples of Zarab. She couldn’t care less about it but she watched Arafanz struggle to answer Lazar’s challenge, so presumably the rebel knew what the Spur was talking about.

‘We’re on the same side, Arafanz. I did your task,’ Lazar said, ‘because I didn’t know if you’d live to fulfil it.’

‘I’m here to finish it,’ Arafanz said.

‘What do you want?’ Herezah demanded.

‘Your death, Valide.’

‘Why?’

‘My task was to destroy the old guard of Joreb’s structure.’

‘It’s already torn to shreds. Let her be. She will herald your new era, trust me,’ Lazar assured him.

‘Trust you?’ Arafanz said in disbelief. ‘No. Now make a choice, you two. I don’t need this child on the throne. You’re right, Lazar, the changes have already been rung in. His death makes no difference. I see giants roam the land again, which tells me Lyana has prevailed.’

‘What choice?’ Lazar demanded.

‘You, Valide, your death in exchange for the baby’s life.’

‘This is madness,’ Lazar said. ‘Nothing will be achieved through her death. Nothing!’

‘Satisfaction that I fulfilled my role. Now choose.’

Herezah knew that Luc was too precious. His existence had bartered their peace with the Galinseans. His existence meant peace and an empire for future generations. She was dispensable. Percheron was safe, Boaz was dead, Lazar would never be hers. She didn’t allow herself another moment’s thought, for fear of losing her nerve. She stepped away from Lazar. ‘Give the child to Lazar.’

‘And then I have no bargaining power, Valide.’

‘Herezah, wait!’ Lazar cautioned.

‘No. This is how it must be,’ she said. ‘Salazin can take my life as you hand the child to Lazar, Arafanz. Is that fair? Are you a man of your word?’

‘Absolutely, Valide. I’m impressed by your heroics. I promise you both father and son will be left safe once you are dead.’

She nodded. ‘How do I say
Do it cleanly
to the mute?’

Arafanz laughed. ‘He is not mute. You can tell him yourself.’

It was just one more shock she couldn’t be bothered to turn her mind to. Life had been enough of a blur these last few days. She stood still as Salazin approached, drawing a vicious-looking dagger from his belt.

‘Arafanz! This—’

‘Quiet, Lazar. Don’t draw that sword. Here, catch your son.’

Herezah held her breath in readiness but it all happened so fast. She watched Arafanz throw Luc at Lazar, who frantically grabbed for the child. When she looked back at Salazin, he was empty-handed. She turned and stared at the rebel’s surprised face, the dagger sticking from his throat. Arafanz just had time to switch his gaze from Lazar to Salazin.

‘Why, my son?’ he gasped before he fell heavily, dead before he hit the ground.

‘He had become dangerous,’ the young man said into the shocked silence. Then he said to Lazar, ‘I’m glad your son is safe,’ before he leapt off the edge of the balcony, escaping. Herezah felt her knees give and then she blacked out.

She inhaled a deep breath of the balmy late summer’s air and smelled the sweet jasmine on it.

‘I walked through the harem today,’ she said. ‘It is a very lonely place. But then it was never a terribly happy place.’

‘You won’t miss it.’

‘No, not one bit. And we shall find homes for all the girls. Some may return to their parents.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Ridiculous with this huge bruise on my forehead that not even a wretched veil will cover. I’m sorry I fainted. I’m fine, Lazar, really.’

‘I plan to leave this evening.’

‘I wish you’d let it go.’

‘I can’t. It must be done.’

‘I know. Well, I’m sure we’re safe. Captain Ghassal takes no notice of me, anyway, so I presume you’ve left him with his orders?’

‘I have. The city is calm.’

‘You’re not going to explain any of it, are you? The desert, the fortress, Boaz, Arafanz, none of it.’

‘You said what is past is past. That is a fine creed. One day I will tell you what Arafanz put us through that terrible night and why killing Boaz was the kindest act I could show him. But right now it is too raw, Herezah. I have lost a lot of people that I cared about. I too must do some healing. Please believe me when I tell you that Boaz did not die in vain.’

She nodded, far too pragmatic to continue her argument. Nothing would bring back Boaz. The Spur had no reason to lie to her, not now. She ruled Percheron. ‘Go, Lazar. Return safely to us.’

‘Only when I am satisfied that he is dead.’

‘You carry my hate with you all the way to him,’ she said as he bowed in farewell.

Who is this boy?
Beloch asked as he carried Lazar east, skimming the northern mountain range.

His name is Teril. He was an inflictor’s assistant. After I was flogged and nearly died, he helped me. He also helped me when I needed to return to the city to see Ana, and he got a message to Pez when I was hardly capable of supporting myself. He has never got over the death of a young inflictor named Shaz, whom the boy maintains was murdered for his silence.

And he knows for sure this is the right direction? We are headed well beyond the area I know.

Apparently our prey hails from a place to the east. Teril overheard the whispered arrangements, spied on them. We keep following this river and then we head south. The place is called Komassee. All I know is that it has a cave network.

Which suggests rocky foothills
?

Yes, I imagine so.

Then I see them in the distance, Lazar. We shall be there soon.

He couldn’t have made it that far in the time he’s had
.

Ah, wait. I see smoke by the river. Three figures, horses, a cart.

Your eyesight is good! Sounds like my quarry. Set me down as close as you can. I’ll stalk them on foot now
.

And then what?

Wait for me. If I don’t call to you within two days, I haven’t survived. Go to your mountain home.

Survive, Lazar. You son, Luc, needs you. Percheron needs you
. Beloch knelt and set Lazar down as gently as he could.

I don’t want them to see you
, Lazar said.

It may be too late. But he’s not expecting you, is he
?

Lazar grinned and began running.

The three men had seen nothing in the dimness of dusk. It was the evening of the second day since Beloch had spotted them. Lazar hid in the bushy undergrowth not far from where they had chosen to camp and watched.

‘How much longer?’ one man asked.

The one he addressed shrugged. ‘As long as it takes.’

‘We are far from home. Too far,’ the third man whined.

Salmeo scowled. ‘I am paying you enough.’

‘But we don’t even know where we’re going,’ the first complained, trying to sound reasonable.

‘I do,’ Salmeo replied, enormous in the fading light.

‘Another two days, I imagine,’ Lazar heard Salmeo add and then all three men were suddenly aware of his presence. The third man’s head flew from his shoulders while his body remained strangely upright, spurting blood around the fire.

‘What the—’ was all the other companion could scream before he felt Lazar’s blade slide through his middle, out past his spine. Lazar kicked the man off his sword, wiping it down on the dead man’s chest.

‘Don’t bother running,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘You’re much too slow.’

‘Can I offer you some quishtar, Spur?’ Salmeo had the audacity to offer this in his feminine lisping way. Lazar had to hand it to the eunuch. He was as cold as the lizard he looked like when his tongue flicked out between that hideous gap in his teeth.

‘No.’

‘But you must have travelled so far alone from Percheron. The least I can do before you start dragging me back is to pour you a cup of the hot brew.’

‘Perhaps with a drop of poison or two to it?’

‘Ah.’

‘That woman you so callously murdered, Salmeo, was my mother.’

The fat man shrugged. ‘Not intentionally, Spur. I’d really rather hoped to kill the Valide.’ He sighed. ‘So you want to begin the journey immediately, I take it?’

‘Whatever makes you think we’re going anywhere together?’

And for the first time since he’d laid eyes again on the huge eunuch, Lazar saw fear in the man’s face.

‘Well, I presumed you would want to take me back for the usual humiliation—the chance to see justice done.’

‘No, Salmeo, I think I can mete out this justice,’ Lazar said, amazed at the calm in his voice. He had imagined hacking the eunuch limb from limb, leaving him dismembered in a bloody pile for the ants to finish off. But the blood rage had dissipated. ‘You get to choose.’

‘What can I choose, Spur?’ the eunuch asked in a delicate voice.

‘Precisely how that justice is delivered.’

‘Not a pleasant choice, then.’

‘More than you ever offered any of the victims of your betrayals. Choose, Salmeo. By sword or by poison. I’m sure you have brought some along.’

‘To be run through or to die choking?’ Salmeo mused. Lazar was impressed by the man’s composure.

‘What is it to be?’

‘Swords are so messy. And these are my favourite travelling silks. Let’s go with the poison.’

‘Where is it?’

Salmeo pointed. ‘In the sack. A small dark glass vial.’

Lazar dug around, finally withdrawing a deep blue bottle, small and innocuous-looking. ‘May I?’

‘By all means, Spur. It’s an old friend for you.’

Lazar pulled the cork and sniffed it. ‘Ah, drezden. I should have guessed.’

‘It’s very potent when taken orally.’

‘I know. A single drop sustains me through the legacy of its poisoning when I get my fevers.’

‘Do you just want me to drink it all down?’

‘I don’t care how you do it, as long as you’re dead by nightfall.’

‘Oh, I think I can guarantee you that. You don’t mind if I take it with some quishtar?’

‘By all means. Here, let me do it for you.’ Lazar busied himself preparing the concoction, remembering how Zafira had traditionally poured the liquid, from jug to jug, cooling it.

‘You pour as if you’ve been doing that for years, Spur,’ Salmeo said.

‘I had a good teacher,’ he admitted. ‘I’m told the best brew is made from the wild husk of the desert cherry.’

‘Oh, bravo, Spur Lazar. You have learned well. It is indeed and this is it.’

‘I recognise the fragrance.’

‘Such a pity to spoil it with the drezden, no?’ Salmeo urged.

Lazar actually smiled at the huge man’s dark humour surfacing. ‘All of it?’ he asked, holding up the cup in one hand and the poison in the other.

‘That’s probably best. I’m not exactly small, am I?’

Lazar tipped the contents of the vial into the cup and carefully placed the delicate porcelain down before the eunuch, stepping back swiftly.

‘I didn’t even think of throwing it over you, Spur,’ Salmeo assured.

‘I don’t take unnecessary risks with my enemies.’ Lazar said, moving away to sit down.

‘Oh, you and I, we’re not so different, you know, Lazar,’ Salmeo said, reaching for the cup. It looked tiny in his large, meaty hands, hands that held the fragile porcelain with such care.

‘And why is that?’ Lazar replied conversationally.

Salmeo blew gently on the brew. ‘Well, you are the son of a king. You are the heir to a throne. And whether or not you choose to take that throne, you carry your pride, your obvious royalty, with bearing. It’s why people accuse you of arrogance. You were born to rule, to lead, to be a man whom your people look up to.’

‘And you?’

Salmeo shrugged. ‘I am also the son of a king. I am an heir to a throne. But Percherese slavers slashed the throat of my mother, humiliated my father until he took his own life, dying in the dirt on the roadside to Percheron. They made a whore of my sister, a princess. They cut away my manhood. In spite of all that, I remain a prince. I was born to rule, to lead, to be a man for my people to look up to. But I was denied it, turning instead into what you see before you.’

Lazar stared at Salmeo, incredulous at the eunuch’s dark tale. ‘I too was captured as a slave, Salmeo. It gives you no right to murder.’

‘Perhaps not. But you at least were permitted to fight your way to freedom, an opportunity that was not offered to a black slave boy from a village in the eastern provinces.’ He blew again on the quishtar. ‘I think this is ready. You are permitting me some small measure of dignity, Lazar, for which I am grateful, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I have hated you but I could never accuse you of being a cruel or unfair man. Let me thank you for not dragging me back to Percheron. At least this way I die free among the plants I recognise and the smells I love. This is my land. I was almost home.’ He raised his cup to the Spur. ‘Sherem,’ he said and gave a gap-toothed smile.

Lazar nodded. ‘Sherem!’ he replied softly, watching as the enuch swallowed the contents of the cup.

‘All gone,’ the eunuch said, grimacing at its bitterness.

‘Farewell, Salmeo.’

Later, after the thrashing death throes had ceased, as night choked off the last light of the day, Lazar severed the former Grand Master Eunuch’s head from his body.

It’s over, Beloch. Can you fetch me? Where you see the fire.

I see it
, the giant replied and Lazar heard the relief in his friend’s voice.
Coming
.

Lazar picked up the heavy head and carefully wrapped it in some linen he found, placing it in a sack he’d brought along for the purpose. Herezah would no doubt enjoy seeing Salmeo’s head on a spike, but until he delivered it to her, he would treat the chieftain with the respect due to a king.