Emissary (36 page)

He was surprised, though, that Ana answered him so readily. Her voice was steady, clear when it came. ‘I was so at the palace, Spur Lazar.’

‘But no longer?’ he dared, enjoying the fact that he had effectively cut Herezah out of the conversation momentarily.

‘I didn’t know if I would be able to stay upright on my horse, I was so exhausted, but curiously I feel refreshed to be out beneath the stars, energised to be back in the foothills. I am close to my home, I believe?’ The enquiry was there, he could not avoid it.

‘We are in the same region, yes.’ He pointed. ‘Over there, in that direction, is where your home is.’

She sighed in answer and Lazar took that sad sound to mean that she had no home. Herezah filled the void.

‘So you will join us for supper, Lazar.’ It was not a question but he responded as if it was.

‘Thank you, but I must decline. I have to ensure the camels—’

‘The camels!’ She laughed at him. ‘I’m sure amongst all these men someone can receive and tie down the animals for a few hours, Spur. No, I believe you make excuses.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘You wish to distance yourself from us women and we are in need of some company.’

‘You have the Grand Vizier—’

Again she interrupted him with a laugh and it was obvious she was enjoying this banter. Didn’t she always, Lazar thought wearily to himself.

‘I can engage the Grand Vizier in conversation anytime I choose—isn’t that right, Tariq?’

Tariq sensibly did nothing more than dip his head gently in a meaningless acknowledgement that she had spoken.

‘But supper with the Spur is far more intriguing. After all, we haven’t seen you for over twelve moons, Lazar. I’m sure Zaradine Ana will enjoy the opportunity to hear precisely what you’ve been up to all that time that we thought you were dead.’ She kept her voice breezy but her words cut like a sharp blade through him. It was all threat.

He bristled despite his promise to remain impervious to her baiting. ‘I’m sure Zaradine Ana’s eventful day will demand she rest, Valide. It would be irresponsible of me to have her squander precious sleeping hours in polite conversation over supper.

‘We are not on a picnic, may I remind everyone. This is a journey fraught with unknown dangers
and I’m afraid I must use my rank as Spur to insist everyone, hungry or otherwise, take this chance to sleep. You will hate me when I send out the call to rouse yourselves in just a few hours. You can eat on the camels in the morning and you can feast when we break for camp tomorrow but until then I will be busy with the activities entrusted to me by my Zar.’ It was a slap in the face to the Valide.

‘Spur Lazar. I think you forget yourself. You are here to care for our needs—’

‘That’s exactly what I’m doing, Valide. Forgive me if my interpretation of care is different to yours, however. As Spur I have duties. I am answerable to the Zar for your lives. I will do everything within my power to protect them…and that means ensuring this trip is not treated like some sort of festive event. Again, forgive my brusque words, Valide, but we are now in hostile territory.’

‘Hostile? This is still Percheron, Spur—’

‘The desert kills, Valide. It is hostile to all creatures and does not differentiate between Percherese or Galinsean. It will destroy us as it chooses. I am here to ensure it is never given that chance. Please excuse me.’ He bowed his head to the Valide, then to the Zaradine who did not look at him. ‘Tariq.’

‘How long before we arrive?’ the Grand Vizier enquired.

‘I shall stop the caravan very shortly and then I shall return to get the royal tent up and all of you settled.’

Tariq nodded and Lazar took that as his opportunity to leave.

‘Ooh, that man is so frustrating!’ Herezah breathed.

The Grand Vizier shrugged. ‘Only for you, Valide, it seems. Zaradine Ana had little to say to him and I can see he has no time for me.’

‘It’s true, our new Zaradine must be tired, after all she nearly drowned today. Tomorrow he will not be quite so slippery.’

‘Why do you pursue the Spur, Valide?’ Ana asked, surprising her pair of listeners by joining in. ‘It’s obvious neither of you care much for one another save what is necessary for formality.’

It was Herezah’s turn to bristle. ‘Don’t question me, Ana! Please remember your place.’

‘As Absolute Favourite Wife to the Zar, Valide, or as the emissary who will try and negotiate a peace treaty for Percheron?’

‘I forbid you to take that tone with me, Ana.’

‘You forbid me nothing, Valide.’ Wintry in the control of her obvious rage, Herezah opened her mouth to retaliate but Ana made sure she closed it again. ‘Out here, in the desert, we are equals. In fact I think if we were asked to survive alone I might stand a better chance. I’m from these parts, Herezah, and I haven’t forgotten the harshness of the wild or how to respect it. You have never felt its sinister touch and I suspect if you were alone you would capitulate at its first fiery breath of the day or its
icy night-time caress. You need the Spur, and not as an enemy.’

‘I don’t need him as anything!’ Herezah replied, trying to put aside Ana’s lofty claims and to forget that the young woman had just addressed her by name—it was a high insult. Both of them knew it.

‘Other than a supper companion,’ Ana finished for her, ‘or perhaps a bedmate?’

Herezah felt the compulsion to strike this girl again, hit her so hard she might tumble from her horse, but she was too wily to fall for that again. She knew Ana was playing her at her own game. The youngster was baiting her, willing her to strike, to let her son down, to bring shame on herself. She did no such thing. Instead she laughed.

‘Oh my dear, you reveal too much of yourself. You are fortunate for the veil and the cover of darkness or we might all see your burning cheeks. Do you really think no-one sees through you? The Spur is not for you, child, no matter how much you covet him.’

‘I am a married woman, Valide.’

‘That’s meaningless.’

‘Are you speaking from experience?’

Maliz coughed to hide his amusement at Ana’s audacity. His stolen body gave him memories of this woman of twelve moons ago. The harem had certainly matured her but perhaps not in the way Salmeo and Herezah had anticipated.

‘You overstep your status,’ Herezah warned, her tone so cold, Tariq was sure that Ana’s face must be frozen.

‘I warned you we are now equal, although I’ll respect your position in the harem providing you respect my new status. Out here, however, I abide by no-one’s rules but my own, Valide, and that of the Spur who is leading this journey. But as for suggesting that I am lusting for Lazar, I see no-one panting around him like a dog in heat, save yourself.’

At this Maliz burst into laughter. He simply couldn’t help himself. This journey was going to be entertaining if it continued in this vein.

His outburst startled Herezah from her fury and prevented the Valide from breaking her promise and doing something ugly to Ana that she would regret. Instead she somehow managed to join the Grand Vizier in his amusement, after which she simply dropped her voice low, menacing, and murmured only for Ana’s hearing: ‘There will be a reckoning for this once we return.’

‘If we return,’ Ana warned and nothing further could be said because the Elim were forming an escort around them once again.

‘We are stopping here for a few hours, Valide,’ the senior one said.

‘Good,’ she snapped. ‘I’m weary of this company and conversation. Please get our tents set up quickly.’

The group of men, nomads, arrived with the camels at just past midnight. The camp was mostly silent; certainly the Valide, Zaradine and Grand Vizier were resting, if not asleep. The two women shared tented accommodation that could be considered grand—lavish by the visitors’ awed stares—but Lazar knew that Percheron could have yielded something infinitely more breathtaking in terms of opulence had it been given sufficient time. The Grand Vizier slept in a smaller, gaudily coloured tent that would normally be used by far lesser dignitaries. Still, he had said his goodnights without complaint, and again Lazar was struck by the radical changes in the man. Tariq would have required accommodation that screamed richness and status, but not this Tariq—this Tariq couldn’t have cared less where he put his head down. Whereas before Tariq simply irritated Lazar as a meaningless, sycophantic drone, this Tariq—Maliz—gave him a constant sense of unease.

It was more than that, though. Maliz gave Lazar a feeling of dread, as though he was simply
toying with everyone now, enjoying the angst within this party, not in any way involved or concerned. Coming along for the fun of it perhaps, even though his Zar expected it.

Pez materialised at this side. ‘Why are you staring at his tent?’

‘I’m wondering why he’s here. He could have easily made legitimate excuses. There must be a reason for him coming along that suits his own agenda.’

‘Ana, presumably,’ Pez replied without hesitation.

‘We’ve been through this—’

‘I know. And your claims damn my beliefs all the way to hell.’

‘And still you believe,’ Lazar finished for him.

‘I do. I feel something in Ana. She resembles plain mortal as little as I do. I don’t have the answer so don’t tax me with the question but I believe Ana is involved—as firmly as I believe you are.’

‘He is not here for Ana, though. Whatever you believe, he has satisfied himself that she is not the Goddess incarnate.’

‘I agree. Perhaps that is the difference this time. Maybe Lyana is protected.’

Lazar kept his patience. ‘Tell me. What occurs to him when Lyana comes into her power?’

At this the dwarf faltered. He knew Lazar was going to trap him again. ‘That, too, is confusing, Lazar, I admit. Traditionally, as soon as Maliz
comes into contact with Lyana, he is endowed fully with all of his powers.’

‘Magic, you mean,’ Lazar qualified. He wanted none of Pez’s cryptic answers.

‘For want of a better word, yes.’

‘Are they noticeable?’

Pez smirked. ‘Does he break out in sores or suddenly grow in stature, you mean? No, Lazar, he is just equipped for the battle that will inevitably ensue between himself and Lyana.’

‘And traditionally they fight—hand to hand?’

Pez shrugged. ‘Not really. They use their powers against one another. She has always lost.’ He pursed his lips before adding, ‘but not this time.’

‘I reckon he’s here for you. He’s keeping an eye on the person who can lead him to the real Lyana.’

Pez shook his head, determined to shore up his belief that Ana was still somehow the one. ‘Perhaps he’s here for neither Ana nor myself. Why not you?’

Lazar laughed grimly. ‘We’re going over stale ground, Pez.’ The dwarf nodded sadly. ‘Why can’t I just go in there now and slit his throat?’

‘I’ve explained this. He cannot die by traditional means.’

‘Why not?’

‘Lyana’s presence gives him his powers.’

Before Lazar could argue again that Ana was not Lyana and surely that made Maliz vulnerable,
Jumo arrived with the news that the purveyors of camels were ready to do business.

‘We have shared kerrosh. It is time,’ Jumo said.

Lazar nodded. ‘I have some animals to buy, Pez. Keep an eye on his tent. I don’t care that it’s guarded by Elim. Everyone’s tired and might get sloppy. See that he doesn’t make any attempt to enter the women’s accommodation.’

‘I’ll do one of my screams if he does.’

Lazar gave him a sad smile before following Jumo down to where the nomads sat patiently cross-legged, warming themselves around a small fire that the soldiers had built.

‘Are they speaking Percherese?’ Lazar asked his friend.

‘No. Use Khalid.’

Lazar swapped instantly into the language of the nomads, touching his hand to his forehead and breast as he welcomed the men and thanked them for bringing the animals.

They stood and responded in kind, although this was purely formality. There was nothing resembling a smile. Instead their expressions were blank, their gazes guarded as they watched the tall foreigner seat himself in similar cross-legged fashion nearby.

Lazar got straight down to business now that the formalities were done with. ‘How many?’

‘We were asked to bring twenty-five,’ the leader said.

Lazar nodded. ‘We’ll need all of them. Are they watered?’

‘Yes. Several days ago but they will have water at the next well. Then they can travel for fifteen days or so without a need for drinking.’

‘Good.’

‘Where do you go, sir?’

‘Across the desert.’

The senior man whistled through his teeth, talked to his companions in a pidgin version of the language that not even Lazar could understand. He grasped every fourth word, though, and from their body language could tell they were not impressed that their camels may not be returned. He chose to interrupt their worried conversation.

‘We will buy them outright.’

‘I cannot allow that. We have raised these camels from calves. They belong to the Khalid people.’

Lazar knew better than to get into any family squabble. As hostile as it was, the desert still supported several tribal families, wandering endlessly from well to well where they might soothe parched throats of man and beast. And their camels, in truth, meant more to them than each other. Camels gave them meat, milk, skins, transport, comfort, income. He’d always known asking one tribe to sell off more than two dozen of its prized family members was an optimistic notion. One or two perhaps, not that many though.

And he also knew by the man’s objection that he was dealing with the right animals, too. Sometimes the wily tribes tried to sell off beasts who were used to traversing the stony plains onto unsuspecting travellers who needed to move through part of the desert. The soles of these animals were hard and shiny, unsuitable for the soft give of the sands. Jumo of course, even with limited time to make his arrangements, would not have erred on this point, he reminded himself.

‘I need these camels,’ he said softly to the man whose name he had found out was Salim.

‘Then we will send some of our own men,’ the man replied. Lazar began to shake his head. The last thing he wanted was more people in the caravan. ‘Otherwise you cannot have our animals, not for any price.’

Salim sounded very final. And Lazar was running out of patience and time. He glanced towards Jumo whose almost imperceptible nod urged the Spur to take this deal. After all, what could it hurt to have some experienced desert travellers in their party?

It was probably fatigue that made him capitulate. ‘I accept your terms. How many men?’

‘Four.’

Lazar nodded. ‘All right. What price?’

And with those two words he set off furious negotiations. Lazar understood the way of the desert. The first price was simply the starting point from which he would now barter them
down as earnestly as they would argue the price back up. He ordered kerrosh, knew there would be another hour or more in this debate. Lazar would happily pay their first price—unheard-of, but his men were tired and he was exhausted. Money was not an issue either. The Zar had opened up the royal coffers and no karel would be spared in this journey. Boaz would scoff if he knew his Spur was using precious rest time in petty bargaining.

But this was the way of the desert-folk. If you didn’t follow the protocol, they would take offence.

The hire price of men and camels was finally agreed upon and suddenly all the Khalid were standing, stretching, smiling and nodding. Negotiations were over, and it was time for a final serve of kerrosh.

Lazar worked hard at stifling a long yawn but lost the fight. Salim strolled over.

‘You will appreciate my men. I can see from your tents that you escort important people.’

‘Bit hard to miss, isn’t it?’

The Khalid smirked but not unkindly. ‘I would leave those tents behind if I were you, sir. Forgive my forwardness but the less attention you draw to yourselves the better in the Empty.’

The Empty. It was the first time he’d heard the desert called that. Having crossed it once, he knew the title suited it. ‘Trouble?’

Salim looked thoughtful. ‘Possibly. I’m presuming you’re headed fully west?’

Lazar didn’t really want to tell Salim much more than he had to but the Khalid was obviously intelligent and had worked out much for himself. ‘Yes.’

Again the man whistled softly. ‘With a royal? Has the sun boiled your brains?’

Lazar bristled but knew he must keep his temper even. He wanted those camels and he wanted to be gone in a few hours on their backs. ‘What do you know?’

Salim jutted his chin towards the tent. ‘The accommodation tells me plenty. The Elim guard tells me a lot more. This is precious cargo you travel with, Spur Lazar.’

‘And the fewer people who know the better, Salim. What should I be fearing?’

‘Apart from the scorching heat and frost at night, the lack of wells across to the west, or perhaps the Samazen?’

Lazar gritted his teeth at the man’s sarcasm, recognising a similar character to his own in Salim. ‘And?’

‘The western quarter of the Empty is not our region. Our people have no reason to travel those lands—I don’t know of any tribes who move across the Forgotten Sands, as the west is known. But we hear things. Rumours of a fortress.’

‘What? In the desert?’

Salim shrugged. ‘All hearsay but I’m obliged to tell you. If we lose our men and camels…’ he trailed off, his tone sad.

‘Why would you?’

Again he shrugged and it was beginning to annoy Lazar.

‘What about this fortress? What rumours do you know?’

‘That a madman had it built and he has assembled his own army.’

Lazar barked a laugh. ‘And you believe this? An army living in the desert.’

‘No ordinary army,’ Salim continued. ‘Men who care not for their lives on this plane.’

Lazar was tiring of this conversation. ‘Salim, tell me what you know and be done. I appreciate your information and any guidance you can provide, but I wish no scaremongering of my men. We have an arduous journey ahead, fraught with all sorts of problems I don’t wish to think about yet, and you are now adding to those problems.’

‘I know very little. All of it based on information passed across the desert through the tribes. I have no idea if it is based on truth, nor do I know how exaggerated the information has become in each telling.’

‘Go on.’

‘No-one knows why they’re there—if they’re there. I have no name for this madman people whisper about. Rumour says he is on a personal crusade of sorts and he has over the past decade been persuading vulnerable, impressionable young men into his personal army.’

‘Where does he source these men?’

‘People disappear all the time in the desert. The tribes know they will lose one or two men a year to its harshness. I think, if he exists, he is using this fact to prey on those people. He steals one or two from the tribes each year, watches them go through the motion of searching for their lost one and then giving up, knowing the desert will claim lives.’ Salim put his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Who knows, he may even steal the people from the western cities, for all I know.’

‘Is there any proof—anything real you can give me?’

At this Salim’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened to a thin line before he spoke. He nodded. ‘My youngest son, Ashar. He disappeared two years ago. He was just fifteen summers. He was accompanying a party of two other Khalid. They were mapping out some new watering holes, as we have begun to open up some trading routes towards the west and—’

‘Wait! This is about your son, nothing to do with our safety. Denying selling me the camels outright had nothing to do with tribal ways but so that you can implant
your
men into
my
caravan. And all that talk about the royals—you don’t care, you’re using the royal party as cover.’ Lazar was past tired, past cranky and was moving straight into fury.

Salim had the grace to look slightly sheepish. Again he gave the gesture of helplessness. ‘Have you a son of your own, Spur Lazar?’

‘I have no children,’ he growled, mindful of the small crowd, turning from their kerrosh and conversation to the two men arguing.

‘Then you cannot begin to understand the lengths a father will go to in order to protect his child. Ashar is now seventeen—’

‘If he’s alive,’ Lazar said heartlessly.

The man nodded sadly. ‘Yes, if he’s alive. I believe he is.’

‘And you want to use my caravan to find him.’

‘I don’t believe this enclave is run by a madman. If it exists—and I believe it does—I think he is far from mad. Very sane in fact. Very calculating, too. He would have the good sense to let a royal party move unharmed through the lands he considers his. Stealing or killing royals brings nothing but damnation onto him and the might of the entire Percherese army.’

‘You can bet all your camels and children on that, Salim!’

The man did not rise to the bait. ‘As I say, I think he will let your caravan pass unharmed, but it will give me and my men the opportunity to get not only close enough to see whether the fortress exists but also into it if necessary.’

‘You know you’re the madman.’

‘Perhaps. But I love my son, Lazar, and no man steals him from me.’

‘You don’t know that he’s alive and you risk men and your own life on the chance that he is.’

Salim studied him through dark, wise eyes. ‘One day I hope Zarab blesses you with a son. And then you will know the pain of parental love and the knowledge that, yes, you would die for that son on the off-chance that your life might buy his.’

Lazar shook his head in exasperation. ‘I want the camels.’