Odalisque (28 page)

‘There are those who were jealous of the Spur,’ Jumo answered.

‘Name them!’ Boaz ordered, again ignoring the man’s lack of protocol when talking to his Zar.

‘It is not for me to say. I have no proof.’

‘Then I’ll say it for you, shall I?’ Boaz threatened, his ire up again. ‘There are only three suspects—my mother, Vizier Tariq or the Grand Master Eunuch.’ No-one said a word, so he continued. ‘I do not need to defend her but you should all understand that this is not my mother’s way. She loves Percheron, its security, and above all, her own. She knew who gave us this security.’ He glanced to Pez who was nodding. ‘Vizier Tariq has no spine. He is sly and he has ambitions, but he would not dare risk such a death finding its way back to his hands. Salmeo is the most capable of this cunning and despicable act but I can’t imagine why he would do such a thing.’ No-one answered him. Even Jumo had realised it was a dangerous mire he was negotiating. The accusation would not come from his lips.

The Zar continued. ‘No doubt if it was Salmeo it was because he felt humiliated by the Spur undermining his authority. I imagine he wanted retribution for Odalisque Ana’s snubbing of
harem rules. Except resorting to murder seems an overreaction, wouldn’t you say? There is more to this. And I will get to the bottom of it.’

None agreed with his reasoning but not one of them said so, each knowing that it would not bring Lazar back to them.

‘Where is the corpse?’ he asked Zafira, ignoring Jumo’s wince at the harsh word.

‘The Spur rallied momentarily before he slipped into his coma. He begged me through his delirium that he was to be given to the sea, my Zar. It was his last wish. We could not argue it for he lost consciousness.’

‘Gone?’ Jumo was astonished. ‘He asked for this?’

She nodded. ‘He was determined. I had to agree to a dying man’s request. He said nothing else—he knew he was close to death.’

‘Where did he die?’ Boaz asked, sounding as though it was an afterthought. ‘No-one could find him.’

Zafira sighed. She had not taken her hand from Jumo’s. ‘He died at the Temple. I had his body removed and taken to Z’alotny.’

Pez was surprised. Perhaps Ellyana did not want it known that Lazar had died in her home. He went along with the lie, unsure of why except that he had no reason to doubt Zafira. ‘The burial ground of the priestesses?’

She shrugged. ‘It is peaceful there and I am familiar with it. In fact it is precisely the sort of
place a troubled man
should
take his last rest on this plane,’ she said defensively. ‘I washed his body and dressed it in fresh robes before I had him rowed out to Beloch. I dropped him out of the boat beneath the giant.’ She sounded unsure. ‘I thought it fitting it was done there.’

Jumo’s anger held him as rigid as the statue of Beloch. ‘I should have been there.’

‘I couldn’t find you, Jumo. I sent a messenger,’ Zafira said softly. ‘I’m so sorry about all of this, but I have few resources. And the Spur won my promise about giving him to the sea. He murmured something about it carrying him back to his homeland. And then he slipped away from me.’

Jumo’s expression softened immediately. Gone was the anger, replaced by something new, akin to fresh pain. ‘He was considering leaving Percheron for a while,’ he admitted softly.

This seemed to rattle Boaz. ‘Was Lazar unhappy?’ he asked, confused.

‘Not unhappy, Highness,’ he said, choosing his words with care. ‘He struck me as wistful in the days after we found Odalisque Ana. He was not pleased about being given that task by the Valide, it’s true, but when you’re out in the desert, Your Majesty, you can start to reflect about life and its possibilities.’

‘So he was planning to leave us?’

‘No, Zar Boaz. I believe he was simply wondering about his homeland, his family probably.’

‘I never asked him about his childhood or life before Percheron,’ Boaz replied, genuine regret in his voice. ‘I wish I had now.’ He rallied himself to the present. ‘I will inform those who need to know about this tragedy and then I will declare three days of public mourning. Sadly we will not have a body to celebrate the passing of the spirit but we will send him off nonetheless.’

‘And the perpetrator?’ Pez prompted.

‘And after that,’ Boaz repeated, iron in his voice, ‘I will have someone ride the needle for this untimely death, so help me.’

Zafira blanched and even Jumo, who had wanted something akin to revenge to assuage his grief, had not expected this.

‘Oh Highness, I’m not sure—’

‘I
am
sure, Pez. You have all, in not so many words, accused someone connected to the palace with murder. That in itself is abhorrent to me. The fact that the victim was a close friend of mine, someone I admired and respected for most of my life—loved even—makes me more determined to see his murderer pay. I will leave no stone unturned until I uncover the treacherous wretch. And when I do I will visit the penalty of a traitor onto his cursed body and leave him for the birds and insects to devour. He will have no burning ritual from Percheron for he has desecrated my reign with this act.’

Pez had no reply. He had never seen Boaz like
this; never heard his tone so terrible or commanding.

‘What about the Spur’s family?’ Jumo asked.

‘Yes, we must send a courier, but where? We don’t know anything about Lazar.’

‘I will go, Highness,’ Jumo said and his tone was resolute. ‘I have no reason to remain here and I would welcome the diversion of tracking down his family.’

Boaz nodded. ‘I understand. Organise what you need at the palace’s expense. Now, the Valide Zara and Vizier Tariq will be waiting. I imagine both of you would prefer not to meet them.’ He nodded to Jumo and Zafira.

They both looked grateful.

‘Pez will show you how to leave here without using this entrance. May Zarab guide you across the waters, Jumo, and bring you back to us unharmed.’

‘Thank you, Highness,’ he replied and meant it, bowing low this time in honour of the young Zar who had treated him with courtesy and respect when he probably had not deserved it.

Boaz turned to Zafira. ‘I’m not sure how to offer an appropriate blessing to you, priestess, except may your goddess keep you safe and to say my personal thanks to you for doing all that you could to save the life of the man I called friend. I know he didn’t die alone or without care. A donation will be made to the Sea Temple to acknowledge your commitment to Lazar.’

‘It is not necessary, Zar Boaz,’ she said gently, ‘and I fear the Vizier will not take kindly to the city donating a single karel to any temple of Lyana.’

‘You misunderstand me. The donation will be made from my personal coffers. I understand he died beneath the altar of your goddess. Consider it a private thank you to Lyana for watching over him in his hour of need.’

She nodded. She had not expected such grace or composure in one so young, or such tolerance. He was wise beyond his years to understand that the Valide and her sidekick, the Vizier, would happily have her stoned if they could. Neither had any time for the remnants of a bygone era.

With Pez’s subdued guidance, she and Jumo took their leave through a small archway that led into the beautiful but simple Mirror Courtyard, which won its name from the reflection in the grand pool, and through a series of corridors.

Boaz waited for his visitors to be well and truly out of sight before he sat down on a divan and privately grieved. His tears fell silently but his despair at Lazar’s loss was intensely felt. With his father and the Spur gone he had no adult male he could confer with—unless one counted Pez, but the dwarf, Boaz understood now, had his secrets including that Zafira was aware of his sanity. Apart from Pez there was now no-one left in the palace to call friend. And then he remembered Ana and his heart lightened slightly. He had promised to bring her news of Lazar as
soon as he received it. How would he ever be able to deliver these grim tidings without her hating him and holding him responsible?

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts and Bin entered at the Zar’s command.

‘My Zar, the Valide is getting…’ He seemed lost for the right word.

‘Testy?’

‘Yes, Mighty One. She insisted I remind you that she and the Vizier await your pleasure.’

Boaz smiled sympathetically at his servant. ‘Please inform the Valide that my day has been interrupted with some urgent news, which I am dealing with. Ask both herself and the Vizier to find some patience. I shall see them as soon as my time permits.’

Bin blanched. ‘Are they to wait in the antechamber, my Zar?’

‘Yes, pass on no further demands to me from my mother, Bin.’ He smirked slightly despite his upset. ‘Take a deep breath and give her my message. Then come back in here.’

‘Oh this is ridiculous, I’m not a servant to be kept waiting like this,’ Herezah snarled at Bin.

The personal attendant made a soft noise of apology. ‘The Zar begs your patience, Valide. He has urgent matters to attend to.’

‘More urgent than the one he summoned us here for?’ Tariq asked, an uncharacteristic insolence creeping into his tone.

‘Apologies, Vizier. Please excuse me, I must attend to the Zar’s duties,’ Bin replied, beginning to back away from his two indignant superiors.

But Tariq had not finished with him yet. ‘And what, pray tell, servant Bin, is keeping His Highness from his mother?’

Even Herezah was surprised at the Vizier’s defiance. Bin was only a servant but he was the Zar’s eyes and ears too and she knew how Boaz was teaching himself to flex his wings, build his own team around him. He might not take kindly to such a pugnacious attitude from another servant, no matter how lofty.

‘I am not at liberty to discuss this,’ Bin said, again apologetically, albeit firmly, and retreated more hurriedly to escape further interrogation.

Herezah turned to her companion once Bin had disappeared. ‘My, my, Tariq, it’s not like you to be so belligerent. Aren’t you feeling yourself today?’ She smiled and the Vizier saw how her amusement mocked him.

It no longer affected him, of course. ‘Now you come to mention it, Valide, no, I haven’t been feeling myself today.’ And then he laughed, equally mocking but gently done so no offence could be taken.

She lifted an eyebrow in query and noticed, as she paid him a moment’s genuine scrutiny, that the Vizier didn’t have quite the same curve to his back as she recalled. She’d got so used to Tariq’s stoop that it never occurred to her that he might
have the capacity to straighten…and yet he certainly seemed to be sitting more upright. ‘What an odd thing. You seem to be your full height again,’ she said, unable to miss any opportunity to offer a couched insult.

‘Thank you, Valide Zara.’ His eyes glittered from beneath the bushy brows. ‘I’ve discovered a marvellous new tonic. It’s doing wonders for my health.’

‘You must share your new potion with me. There’s not a woman alive who doesn’t want to hear about how to look younger,’ she replied, frowning slightly at the new intensity in his eyes. Surely it was her imagination?

‘I certainly shall,’ he agreed.

‘Does this remedy have a name?’

‘Oh yes, but it’s my secret for now,’ and he chuckled softly to himself.

Herezah didn’t understand his amusement but she would look into it—if there was a newly discovered herb for youthfulness, then her physic would surely know it.

‘Why do you think we have been called by your son, Valide?’ Tariq asked, changing the subject.

‘I have no immediate idea. I thought it might be about a private meeting he had with one of the odalisques that so incensed Salmeo. But now that you’re here, I have to assume the topic is of a more formal nature. Have you any notion?’

He nodded slyly. ‘I think the Grand Master Eunuch will have a lot more to worry about than
an unscheduled rendezvous by the Zar with a concubine, Valide Zara.’

Her attention was riveted on him now. The Vizier had the audacity to intimate he knew something about her son that she didn’t! ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

He shrugged but there was a self-assurance evident that troubled her. ‘You asked if I had a notion and I do.’

‘Tell me,’ she ordered. ‘If you’re going to enjoy the patronage you’ve always desired from me, Tariq, you’d better start remembering your place. Don’t play with me, Vizier.’

‘Valide, I would never do such a thing,’ he said, feigning surprise that she might think it. ‘I just don’t want to spread rumours without evidence. It is not my place to comment on Salmeo’s position.’

‘But you just did!’ she hissed. ‘Now, what do you know?’

‘I only suspect, I know nothing,’ he replied and this was true. Since claiming Tariq, Maliz no longer had his omnipotent view of the world. It took all of his presence and energy now to be Tariq, to work his body, to think within him, to effect the mannerisms he had studied for so long. Being the ancient Sewer Rat required such little effort, particularly as the skeletal old man did nothing much more than be still and rot. Over two centuries he had roamed from frail body to frail body, never giving himself entirely over to any of
them, simply killing the soul and then hovering within the host, refusing to fully claim it. Although this lack of commitment meant he could barely move these bodies, the freedom did permit him to project himself outside the body for short periods. It was how he had communicated so effectively with Tariq’s mind, but not any longer. He was the Vizier now—wholly. The next time he died, he would die in this body and then his spirit would have to lie dormant in another series of frail bodies until he felt the rising of Iridor again. Iridor always triggered his reincarnation. So from now to the moment of his next death, Maliz had only Tariq’s eyes to see with and his ears to hear with. He would definitely need to increase the network of spies the Vizier had already set up if he was to keep abreast of even half of the information he’d had previously. Before becoming the Vizier, Maliz had witnessed the conversation between the Deputy Inflictor and the apprentice. It was a chance occurrence—he had been hurrying back to the old man’s body when he’d overheard the exchange. There had been no mention of Salmeo in the conversation, of course, but Maliz knew who ‘the highest authority’ was. He understood the blackness of the man’s soul, admired him for it.