Odalisque (19 page)

‘What’s happening?’ she begged.

‘You are to be dressed in a different gown. Step out of that one, please, Miss Ana.’

‘Why?’

‘You are not to be flogged.’

‘Tell me, please, what has occurred?’ she begged the middle-aged slave, who was pulling the white gown from her shoulders.

‘I have no information, Miss Ana, other than to dress you in more formal clothes.’

She got nothing further from the woman. Ana obliged, climbing into soft silk trousers and allowing a long silk jamoosh of pale blue to be draped over her until only her eyes showed.

‘You must wait now, my lady, in the adjoining chamber. The Elim will come for you.’

Ana was led next door. She had not been in the same room twice since arriving at the palace and could only wonder at how many hallways and palatial rooms the harem consisted of. She sat alone on a divan, her head bowed and the doors guarded. Although frightening, it had seemed somehow easier to accept the flogging rather than the unknown. Now she had no idea of what was ahead.

Butterflies fluttered in her belly, and as if on cue there was a sudden activity at the main doors and the dwarf came bounding through.

‘Pez!’ she cried, never so relieved to see anyone as she was at that moment.

He was pulling silk handkerchiefs from his sleeves, his nose, his mouth, his ears and muttering about wishing he were a fish who could swim the oceans. He ignored her for a minute at least, jumping and singing and then ranting that the kerrosh was too hot and the iced sherbets too cold. Then he lay on the floor and stared up at the painted ceiling. ‘Are they watching?’ he whispered.

She glanced towards the guards and shook her head. ‘How come you got past them?’

‘I’m mad, remember. No-one cares about me.’

‘Do you know what’s happening?’

‘It’s Lazar. He’s claimed the Right of Protectorship for you.’

‘What does that mean? They’ve told me I won’t be whipped today.’ From the divan where she sat looking down upon the dwarf she sensed something grave had occurred.

‘That is because Lazar will take the flogging on your behalf.’

‘Oh no!’ she cried, standing up. The guards looked around but didn’t care that she was upset. Any number of things could upset a girl, including a dwarf saying frightening things. They smirked and turned away again.

Pez hurried to reassure her. ‘Ana, hush. Lazar will be fine. He is a toughened soldier.’

‘How was he allowed to do this?’

Pez sat up but turned his back on the men so they could not see his lips moving and Ana took his hint and did the same.

Pez explained. ‘The Right of Protectorship stretches back centuries and it was only because of an ancient yet infamous instant of it being invoked that it remains in the history books today. A wife of the Zar had made him cuckold to a eunuch.’

‘How can that be?’ she interrupted.

‘The eunuch’s cutting had not been done properly and he had hidden this fact, managing to continue carnal relations whilst living among the eunuch community. He would have got away with his sexual activities if not for falling in love with one of the wives. She became pregnant and the Grand Master Eunuch at the time knew it was not possible that she was pregnant to the Zar. The girl refused to reveal her lover, such was her devotion to him, and so the Zar, incensed, proclaimed her death. The smitten eunuch stepped forward and claimed the right to be executed on her behalf, invoking one of the oldest laws of Percheron that a person can escape punishment if another accepts it instead.’

‘Oh, so this is custom?’

‘In Percheron, yes. I don’t know of anywhere
else where such a law exists. The eunuch was immediately ganched, a hideously slow and painful death involving being thrown onto hooks. Wherever on the body those cruel hooks snag is where the victim is suspended, eventually to die.’

She flinched. ‘And I just get a whipping,’ she muttered.

‘You have not cuckolded the Zar. There is no greater treachery within the harem.’

‘Do they still ganche people today?’

‘Oh yes. There hasn’t been one in a long time—I suspect we’re due.’

‘How is Lazar?’

‘Determined, aloof, angry as always.’

‘How can I thank him? How do I repay him?’

‘By staying out of trouble, Ana. They have you marked now as rebellious. You must conform as best you can if you are to survive in this place. I imagine Salmeo has been deeply humiliated by this event and now you’re escaping his punishment.’ He made a tutting sound of soft despair.

‘You think he’ll want revenge?’

‘I do, so you must not make it easy for him to take it. Stay out of his sights, Ana. Blend into the harem with the other girls and be dutiful. Learn all that they want you to and perform your tasks diligently. Survive.’

She nodded. ‘Can you take a message to Lazar for me?’

‘Of course.’

‘Will you tell him that he is free of me? He is no longer beholden in any way. I am alone now and I accept this. I will be a dutiful odalisque as you suggest. I bear no ill will towards him and that I am…’ she hesitated, ‘happier for knowing him.’

Pez said nothing. He didn’t have to. They sat in sad silence for a few minutes and then the Elim arrived to disrupt their quiet.

‘It is time, Miss Ana,’ one said. ‘Be off with you, Pez,’ he added, pulling a face of disgust at the way the dwarf was picking his nose, humming tunelessly to himself. ‘You will have to get used to the dwarf, Miss Ana,’ the man said more kindly. ‘He has the run of the harem. We cannot stop him from being here.’

‘He doesn’t trouble me,’ she answered as sweetly as she could. ‘He doesn’t even talk to me—he just seems to murmur nonsense all the time.’

‘He’s been like this for years but he belongs to the Zar and is untouchable. Now if you’ll come with us.’

Pez pushed himself to his feet and groped his crotch and then pointed to Ana. ‘This one will please the Zar,’ he said and giggled maniacally before running out of the door.

Salmeo’s heart was pumping hard and it was not only blood it was pushing around his body. Anger throbbed in tandem. The eunuch hated to reveal when his emotions were being stirred; he preferred that no-one knew what he was thinking or how he was reacting to a situation. But the peacock Vizier and the arrogant Spur had belittled him before the Valide—just when he had begun to win her trust and complicity.

He banged the marble in rage. Even though his eyes were open he saw nothing, for his thoughts and boiling blood blurred everything. What he wanted was revenge and the Valide had given him the means.

A knock at the door brought him out of his angry thoughts. ‘Enter,’ he boomed.

His trusted and most senior Elim stepped inside and bowed low. ‘Master,’ he said, not straightening until his superior gave him permission to do so by speaking.

‘Horz. You have heard what we do today in the Courtyard of Sorrows?’

The man stood up. ‘Yes, master. I have been informed that we do not punish the odalisque but the Spur.’

‘Indeed we do. Who had you earmarked to perform the whipping on the girl?’

‘Someone very experienced, master, who knows how to lash softly without marking.’

‘Change him. I want one of the apprentices to do this one.’

‘Master?’ Horz was confused. An apprentice meant it would almost certainly be badly done.

‘The Spur is to be hurt, Horz. Must I say it more plainly for you?’ The Elim shook his head. ‘The Spur has called the Elim into question today. He mocked me in front of the Valide. He believes it will be a simple case of taking the child’s punishment. I choose otherwise.’

Horz could feel the hate emanating from the Grand Master Eunuch. Even the words of his master’s preamble sounded chilling. Whatever was coming was clearly going to be dangerous.

Salmeo continued. ‘I want the Viper’s Nest to be used on him.’

Horz heard himself gabbling. The whip Salmeo spoke of was only traditionally used to kill or as a preamble to death by other means. ‘Master, please—’

‘Do as I command you, Horz. The Snake it is and make sure whoever wields it has no idea how to use it. I repeat, I do not want the Spur softened, I want him hurt. And should he die…’

Die? Horz could barely speak. ‘Yes, master?’ he managed to choke out.

‘We shall not be held responsible. I will see to it.’

Horz bowed, expecting to be dismissed.

‘I am not finished yet,’ Salmeo said, a slyness in his tone that told Horz he was yet to hear the worst of his master’s plan. ‘I want the tongues of each viper to be dipped in drezden.’

The Elim could not speak. His lips had gone numb.

‘Have I made myself perfectly clear, Horz?’ There was a threat in the question.

‘Yes, master,’ came the strained reply.

‘Good, because it’s your life and those of your brother and his family in the foothills if my orders are not followed to the letter. I suggest you apply the drezden yourself. Oh, and Horz—no-one knows of this but the two of us…I suggest we keep it that way.’

Lazar had been staring into space, his mind empty of thoughts for the first time in as long as he could remember. He wasn’t sure whether it was the dulling sense of anxious anticipation or the fear of what he planned to do beyond today. He had discussed the latter with no-one yet—not even Jumo. It seemed to be the only decision he could take to rid himself of this asphyxiating sense of dread—that he was somehow connected to something far bigger than his own
tightly kept world of Percheron. It was the statue of Lyana in the tiny temple that kept returning to his thoughts and unsettling him. Something in her gaze called to him—no, implored him—but he didn’t know what it was she wanted of him. That effect had not waned over the days since first sighting her—if he was truthful, he would admit it had only intensified. And yet for so many years Lazar had felt completely assured of himself and his position in Percheron. Lazar rarely let himself think about his homeland for fear of those thoughts damaging the fragile, precious veil of secrecy he had built around himself. It was his protection.

Now he no longer cared. Was this feeling of unsettlement the power of the statue? The surge of Herezah into such a position of authority and her relentless intention to make him dance to her chosen tune was sickening enough. However, Herezah paled to invisible in comparison to the frightening sense of loss regarding Ana. Was everything linked? He tried every possible approach to convince himself that Ana was not important. She was a naive girl, he told himself, but the truth was she might be young, but her soul was old. He accused her of being cunning, deliberately pulling at his heartstrings, but he failed here too. There was nothing conniving in Ana—she was true; true to herself, true to him, and true to those she dealt with. He even tried to convince himself that she would not remember
his name after a year in the harem and that she was like all women in that brood—simply trying to better themselves.

Finally he had to accept that Ana had so profoundly affected him that he could no longer think in the neat, straight way he was used to. Life felt suddenly disordered, routine was smashed, his secure, private existence in Percheron was over. And still he could not target precisely what it was about this youngster that could have such an effect.

He was reacting towards her as if she was of a similar age to himself and, heaven forbid, eligible. He did not want his heart touched, yet she had done just that with a single look. Then she had proceeded to break that fragile heart by turning down his offer of regular escape from the suffocating dullness of the harem.

Lazar knew he would never stomach being so close to Ana and yet so far.

This was why he was planning on leaving Percheron. He had only to get through today and then he would be gone—fleeing from all that was suddenly so unsettling.

He laid his head back against the cool marble of the wall and closed his eyes to await his friend. He was sure Jumo would find him prior to the flogging.

He was right.

Jumo had arrived at the palace and with Pez’s guidance had found where his friend had been
asked to wait. Granite-faced members of the Elim greeted the former slave and would not have permitted him access but for the presence of Pez.

‘We’re here to see the Protector!’ the dwarf repeated over and again, spinning in frantic circles.

When the Elim began suggesting that Pez would be allowed in but not Jumo, the dwarf stamped his feet and grabbed Jumo’s hand. ‘He’s my friend,’ he howled, then growled and bared his teeth at the Elim, who were more than used to the small man’s antics and thoroughly capricious ways.

One sighed and said, ‘What would it hurt?’ and Pez began dancing, fingers in each ear, which never failed to amuse.

Once inside the chamber the dwarf became serious. ‘They obviously agreed to it,’ he said to Lazar.

The Spur nodded. ‘They could hardly refuse. Thank you for suggesting it.’

‘I don’t think you’ll be thanking me soon, Lazar,’ Pez answered. He sighed and his expression begged their indulgence as he began to jump around and make a noise so that the Elim outside would not wonder why Pez had gone quiet.

The same notion that Pez had aired was rushing through his companions’ minds. Salmeo would make the Spur pay a heavy price for this humiliation. Lazar had been taken in the
direction of the barracks but then, as if looping back on themselves, the Elim had brought him to a wing of the palace he had never explored.

‘This is not part of the harem,’ Jumo muttered.

‘No. This is the Hall of Sorrows,’ Pez answered, becoming still again. ‘It’s where prisoners of the royals are brought to wait before they face their punishment.’

‘I’ve only seen it from the other side,’ Lazar commented absently. ‘It’s a very pretty courtyard, with birds as sentries, I think, around the edge of the walls.’

‘They’re ravens,’ Pez replied. ‘The bird of sorrows,’ and a thought nagged at him.

Lazar nodded. ‘Fitting.’

Jumo knew not to say too much. Lazar had made a decision and he was never one to go back on his word. ‘Master, I doubt very much that they will use the same whip as they would on the child.’ There, it was out—what they were all secretly worrying about.

Pez nodded sagely. ‘The Elim confer with the Inflictors to choose, as I understand it.’

‘Yes, so I’ve been informed,’ Lazar confirmed. ‘I think we can stake our lives on it that Salmeo will select something vicious.’

‘Are you frightened?’ Jumo asked tentatively.

‘My only worry is for Ana,’ Lazar said. ‘I have a feeling they’ll make her watch.’

‘I think you can count on it,’ Pez answered. ‘She’s an incredibly assured young woman, my
friend. I don’t think you should fret too hard about her. She will survive this. Just consider yourself now.’

Lazar shrugged. ‘There is little to consider. They’ll do what they will and I must bear it.’

Jumo felt his stomach roll at the thought of what cruel fate would befall his friend. His grim thoughts were silenced by the sudden movement of Pez doing a handstand against the wall and beginning what was known affectionately amongst the ranks of soldiers as his jibber-jabber.

The dwarf had sensitive hearing for within moments the door had opened and four of the Elim stepped inside and another two remained outside.

‘Spur, if you please,’ Horz, the most senior, said courteously.

Jumo couldn’t imagine anyone amongst the Elim was too happy about their role today. The Elim were subject to the whims of their commander, the Grand Master Eunuch, and they were fearsome fighters, all of them. No-one should ever imagine that because they’d been rendered sexless by the blade that they lacked the passion or courage that went with manhood. Most of the Elim proved their bravery by entering the service of the eunuchs as adults. The other eunuchs of the harem, those never permitted to wear the red robe, were mostly cut when they were still in childhood and unable to understand, beyond the pain and fear, what was being given up.

The Elim expected to be rewarded in Heaven, as promised by Zarab, whom they worshipped vigorously.

Jumo stepped in front of Lazar. ‘I am his second.’

Horz nodded. ‘We gathered,’ he said. ‘This is acceptable.’

They had to talk above the din of Pez who was making quite a show of himself.

Horz turned and bowed to Lazar. ‘I’m sorry, Spur, about the dwarf’s interference but the Zar rules…’

‘I know,’ Lazar replied. ‘I take no notice of him at the best of times.’

‘Can you tell me how this is all to be handled?’ Jumo asked, determined to know exactly what they were up against.

Again the senior Elim nodded calmly. ‘The Spur is to be flogged.’

That much was obvious. Jumo kept his face expressionless. ‘By whom?’

‘I do not know the Inflictor.’

‘You mean you don’t know the man himself or you don’t know which of the Inflictors has been chosen?’ Jumo persisted.

The Elim’s hesitation was telling. As he opened his mouth to answer, Lazar cut him off. ‘Leave it, Jumo. It’s going to be done, and frankly I don’t care by whom.’

Pez began chanting: ‘Don’t hurt him, Horz, or he’ll get angry.’ No-one took any notice.

‘If you’ll follow us, Spur,’ Horz said and glanced at Jumo. There was something in that single look to make Jumo’s heart sink further. Something was up—he could feel it in the tension of the Elim.

‘Thank you, Horz,’ Lazar muttered.

The Elim were ruthless enough when required but he understood how none would be looking forward to today’s event. He grudgingly accepted that they would probably have preferred to whip the girl rather than humiliate, probably injure, a fellow warrior who was clearly innocent. That said, he could sense their quiet admiration that he had offered himself up instead.

This was the way of the Elim. It was the very basis of their own creed. They offered themselves to their god and made a costly sacrifice on his behalf. They were respected and feared whenever they were seen outside of the harem, and inside they had complete control. Not even Herezah would risk offending the Elim. It was a finely tuned balancing act. The Elim needed the harem to exist, whilst the harem needed the Elim to keep discipline and to keep it safe.

He fell into step between the six Elim, each as tall as him, and decided he would give Herezah no satisfaction this day.

The six men and the victim stepped out into the sharp afternoon sunlight. Jumo unhappily followed and slunk into the shadow cast by the minaret outside the walls. His presence here was
permitted merely as a servant to carry, if necessary, the body of Lazar from this place. Pez came behind Jumo, all but catapulting himself from the doorway into the Courtyard of Sorrows and tumbling into a series of manic somersaults aimed purely to irritate Herezah and her sycophants. He succeeded brilliantly by rolling to a halt atop a man’s foot. Only one he knew wore jewelled slippers during the day and outside—he couldn’t have planned it better.

‘Curse you, Pez!’ the Vizier said, kicking at the dwarf with his free foot.

Pez rolled away in mock agony, ensuring he made a loud to-do. Two of the Elim hurried up to help him; one of them was Horz.

‘Vizier!’ the Elim admonished. ‘Pez has the highest sanction in all of Percheron. You must—’

‘I know, thank you, Horz,’ Tariq interrupted testily, angry with himself for such a blatant error but he detested the dwarf. He especially despised that Pez had such a free rein throughout the palace and indeed the harem. Today had been trying and now the dwarf’s antics, which never failed to embarrass the Vizier, had allowed the tension he was feeling to boil over.

He half expected the demon to speak now but Maliz had been strangely silent since the meeting this morning. He watched Horz pick up the still-writhing dwarf and carry him aside and he noticed Pez grinning back, mocking him. Oh, how he hated that fool. If he knew he was
anything but a halfwit he would contrive the idiot’s death. It was this single spume of bile within that helped Tariq to make his final decision. Yes! he would accept Maliz’s offer. He wanted power, he wanted riches, he wanted freedom from the shackles of people less than himself. He would no longer answer to any of these pitiful folk, least of all a deranged dwarf. He grimaced with pleasure at the thought. It was only a temporary arrangement and what did it matter if the demon had use of his body for this period. The rewards more than outweighed the brief inconvenience. He had no idea how it was all going to come about but his wrath gave him the impetus to place his faith in Maliz.