Emissary (2 page)

Maliz, the demon, masquerading as the newly promoted Grand Vizier, approached the Zar confidently. The young ruler was in his private courtyard with its wide verandah overlooking the Faranel. Alongside the slim Zar stood the monstrously large form of Salmeo, Grand Master Eunuch of the harem.

Maliz smiled. He was supposed to vie with Salmeo at every turn but Maliz shared no history with the eunuch—unlike Tariq, the man whose body he had stolen. Tariq had hated the black castrate and the feeling was so intensely mutual that none of Maliz’s genuine attempts at repairing past damage was welcomed with any warmth by the suspicious head of the harem. History prevailed, hate reigned. Maliz found it amusing, as much as wise, to keep trying, though.

He bowed, ‘Zar Boaz,’ before nodding his head in a far more polite gesture than Tariq could ever have mustered for the eunuch, ‘Grand Master Eunuch. Please forgive my interruption.’

The Zar nodded. ‘We were just finishing, Tariq.
Salmeo has agreed to organise the boating picnic I promised the women many moons ago.’

‘Oh, how charming,’ Maliz replied, and meant it, but it was obvious Salmeo thought he was being sarcastic.

‘It is the Zar’s desire,’ the black eunuch reminded softly and there was intent in the firmness of his voice that Tariq should not challenge the head of the harem in front of their Zar.

‘But it is you the women will remember for this idea, Salmeo,’ Maliz said in a conciliatory tone.

Salmeo blinked, slow as a lizard, as if weighing up carefully what the Vizier was saying, testing it for guile. As it was, he was entirely confused by the Grand Vizier who had appeared to have experienced some sort of epiphany. Certainly an immense change had come over the man since Joreb’s death. Salmeo was quite sure he preferred the old Tariq, the witless, obsequious, self-serving Tariq who was so transparent it was easy to manipulate him. This changed Tariq was opaque and very hard to read, and he had discussed this at length with an equally confused Valide but neither was in a position to do much more than talk and observe, for the Grand Vizier had ingratiated himself so slyly into the new Zar’s life that to try and undo him now was far too dangerous. ‘I shall take my leave, Majesty,’ he said finally without another glance to the hated Vizier. ‘I have many arrangements to make. Would you like me to inform the women, Highness?’

Maliz heard the soft lisp in the black eunuch’s speech and wondered how many had been taken in by that affectation, not knowing what cruelty this man was capable of.

‘By all means,’ Boaz said, ‘although I would appreciate it if you would advise the Valide first and seek her participation,’ he suggested, finding a hesitant smile, and again Maliz noted how uncomfortable the Zar was around the massive eunuch. He noted that the royal worked hard to hide how much he disliked him, but Maliz was too sharp not to notice all the silent signs that Boaz’s body gave of not wanting to spend a moment more than he had to in the private company of his head of harem. It intrigued the impostor as to how many different strained relations struggled but somehow survived within the palace walls.

‘Thank you, my Zar,’ Salmeo lisped and bowed before gliding away, curiously light on his feet.

Boaz sighed. ‘How does such a huge man tread so softly?’ he mused, then turned to his Vizier. ‘It would be so much easier if you two liked one another,’ he said, glancing back to the glinting sea.

Maliz, unfazed by the power of the man who stood before him, gave a wry smile to the Zar’s back. ‘I could say the same to you, Majesty.’

Boaz swung around and any lesser individual might have quailed in fear of retribution for such a bold comment but Maliz, relaxed and almost allowing a mischievous grin to crease the corners
of Tariq’s mouth, awaited the Zar’s response. Boaz watched his Vizier intently for a moment. ‘I wish my father had known this new Tariq who stands so brazenly before me. I believe he would have liked you, Vizier.’

‘No, Highness,’ Maliz said, knowing it was important to find any way to stop adding fuel to the fire of speculation that burned constantly in Boaz’s eyes at the strange personality change that had claimed the Vizier since the old Zar’s death. ‘I think even I might have disliked me in your father’s day. It is only since you have come to power that I’ve realised how important my role can be. Previously I searched for gratification, reward, power…oh dear, the list of cringing need feels endless sometimes,’ he said, shrugging in a self-deprecating manner.

‘And now?’

‘A change did come over me at your father’s death, Majesty. There’s no denying it,’ he said, constructing the pathway with great care before he led the Zar down it. ‘I realised that as soon as you took the Crown of Percheron you could have had me executed, Majesty. You and I were never what could have been termed friends.’

‘I hated you,’ Boaz replied, determined to be candid.

Maliz nodded. The Zar had matured much in these past few moons, growing strongly into his role, accepting its burden. His directness was refreshing in comparison to the usual politicking
around the palace. ‘And I understand why. I had so little autonomy, my Zar. I could have been a good Vizier to your father—may Zarab keep him—but he was headstrong and fiercely independent. He didn’t want advisers and he did not like me from the outset.’

‘Neither did I. I’m still not sure I do.’

This surprised but privately amused the Vizier, who had no real interest in the Zar’s success—this relationship with Boaz was simply convenient and, if he was honest, mildly entertaining. His own agenda would set the palace alarm bells ringing if anyone knew or understood what was truly at stake here.

Only one other within the palace knew, but that person remained elusive. Maliz was now sure that Iridor had not only risen but was roaming these corridors somewhere. He could feel him. The ancient enemy was near and that meant Lyana, too, was close as well, as he suspected. He would exercise patience and he would find and destroy them both as he had in every battle, over millennia.

‘I appreciate your candour, my Zar, and hope I never offend you.’

‘I hope so too, Tariq,’ Boaz said softly, but there was a threat in his tone and Maliz realised that, for all his careful work, the Zar remained suspicious and hesitant to give his trust. He actually admired Boaz for his reluctance and considered Percheron fortunate that it might
enjoy two Zars in a row who were worthy of their status.

Boaz interrupted his thoughts. ‘You wanted to talk with me?’

‘Yes, Zar Boaz, I do.’

‘Walk with me, then. I was going to take some sea air on the high balcony.’

‘It would be a pleasure,’ Maliz replied, knowing that walk would take Boaz past the sherbet rooms where many of the members of the harem liked to relax after their long morning, which he understood was spent simply bathing. Boaz was obviously maturing if he was beginning to parade himself past the girls. It wouldn’t be long now, Maliz thought, before those same girls, quickly turning into young women, would be called upon to offer a new kind of homage to their Zar. Sometimes his strange life could be fun. Maliz imagined how much sport it was going to be to observe these delicious girls, whenever he was permitted, as they set about their single-minded business of attracting the Zar’s eye. If only they knew what it was like to be a young man, his wits challenged by the fierce new drive of sexuality, they would understand that they would have to do very little in fact to win his attention. The mere suggestion of the rise of breast behind their robes, the glimpse of a nipple beneath a silken sheath, the very outline of a nubile body moving gracefully, was enough to send any hot-blooded youngster into a frenzy of desire. And if the Vizier enjoyed the
opportunity to see all this beautiful, virginal flesh on offer—even though it was so subtly shrouded—then Maliz was certainly not going to complain at this potential for vicarious thrill.

He smiled slyly. ‘Perhaps we should send a runner ahead to let others know I accompany you, Zar Boaz.’

‘No need,’ Boaz replied nonchalantly. ‘That’s what I was talking to Salmeo about. I’m relaxing some of the rules attached to the harem. I see no reason why the Zar—and whomever he chooses as his companions to enjoy the palace surrounds with him—should not be permitted to walk alongside certain buildings without permission.’

‘Indeed, Highness,’ Maliz said, surprised and delighted, enjoying also the thought that this new rule must have caused the sour look on Salmeo’s face. ‘Is the Grand Master Eunuch comfortable with this…relaxing of the old rules?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I imagine he believes it’s an encroachment,’ Maliz answered truthfully.

‘Yes, that’s precisely what he believes. But I know Salmeo considers it an encroachment on his personal status rather than on tradition. He cares not for the old ways so much as his territory. I don’t intend staring into windows or hunting down the women. I just don’t see that I must avoid them.’

‘It’s part of your role as a ruler to modernise life,’ Maliz encouraged.

‘Salmeo believes I’m stomping on tradition.’

‘It’s what I’d expect him to say.’

‘You think it’s appropriate then.’ Boaz did not make it a question, more of a statement.

Maliz was sharp enough to appreciate that the Zar was not asking his permission but the young ruler was nevertheless gently searching for endorsement. ‘I think it’s wise, Majesty. Each Zar will surely introduce his own modern thinking to his reign. Your father made many changes—some were fought by the traditionalists, but had he backed down, then good things such as your great education might never have happened. Your grandfather did not believe in his heirs being educated as broadly. Your father learned the arts of warfare and diplomacy, for example, but taught himself how to read and write as well as he did.’

‘I never knew that,’ Boaz commented, surprised by this information, especially as he’d considered his father so literate. ‘He was so creative too.’

‘This is true but that was your father’s inherent talent. He had the soul of an artist. We can see his influence all over the city, certainly in the palace. And how much poorer would the citizens be had he not exercised his right to change things? You are not doing anything that Zars before you have not already done. It is fitting that you make subtle improvements wherever you see the need.’

‘It seems so archaic to separate the women to the point of imprisonment.’

‘Ah, now we touch on something else,’ Maliz warned, enjoying the conversation as he strolled by his young charge.

‘Not really. I don’t see it that way.’

‘Others will. If you don’t mind me offering humble advice, then may I suggest you move slowly, my Zar. Don’t try to change too much at once. Small leaps will still cover the same distance as big ones…it just takes longer, but it makes it easier on those who feel the effects of change.’

‘Salmeo, you mean,’ Boaz qualified.

Maliz gave a gesture that said Boaz could reel off a dozen names. ‘Salmeo included, definitely. The Valide might also feel that you are undermining her status if you grant too much freedom to the women. You must remember, my Zar, if I dare be so bold as to guide you here, that the harem is your mother’s power base. Erode that and you will destabilise her influence over the other women. If you implement too much change in a short time, they will soon be looking to you to override not only Salmeo but also the most powerful woman in the realm. She sits atop a throne in the harem; I know you understand this because you were raised in it, so I don’t mean to give you a lecture.’ The older man bowed slightly in deference as they walked.

‘I understand. Please continue,’ Boaz commanded.

‘You don’t want your mother as an enemy,’ the Vizier said directly.

Boaz paused and Maliz wondered if he’d made an error in judgement. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ the Zar asked.

Maliz was in too far to pull out now. Not that he cared much for Boaz or how his reign turned out, but he rather enjoyed the role as Zar-maker. ‘The relationship I’ve noticed between you both is strained. It is none of my business, of course, and I realise it is neither the fault of your mother nor yourself. Circumstances of the harem will almost always put this sort of pressure on the golden couple, which is how I like to think of each slave mother who rises to this position and her precious son that claims the throne.’ He paused, ensuring that Boaz was not taking offence. Boaz said nothing but his stare was intense. Maliz continued. ‘Her future is in your hands. Whatever power you grant her is all she gets and she must feed off your status at all times. She is nothing without you.’

‘I have heard such advice before,’ Boaz replied steadily, recalling now a similar conversation with Pez—which reminded him that he had not seen the dwarf in a few days.

‘Then forgive me for being repetitive. The Valide is a weapon that you can use, my Zar. I would caution against alienating her by undermining her authority over the other women. The more freedom you give them, the less mystery to her role and her access to you.’

Boaz considered the wisdom of his Vizier’s words.
He was mindful of his mother’s role, which was why he’d instructed Salmeo to direct the boating trip with his mother’s involvement in the first instance. However, he had to silently admit that he was not necessarily considering her seat of power and how it might be eroded by the changes he had in mind. Perhaps Tariq’s caution was worthy.

‘I shall consider your advice, Vizier,’ was all Maliz got for his careful guidance. ‘As you can see,’ Boaz said, waving in the direction of the pale, ornate building known as the sherbet rooms that they were now approaching, ‘Salmeo seems to have my measure anyway,’ referring to the ring of red-robed Elim guards who stood against each tall window that might give the women a chance to eye their Zar at too close range for Salmeo’s comfort…and vice versa, of course.

Maliz permitted himself a smile. ‘It seems he does.’ It was the right thing to say. Boaz gave a grudging grin, as if acknowledging that they both shared a common dislike for the man. Maliz decided it might just be easier to maintain the hate that Tariq began. It seemed more useful in terms of remaining closer to the Zar.