Odalisque (31 page)

Bin sombrely announced the arrival of the Grand Master Eunuch and the Head of the Elim.

‘Bring them in,’ he ordered.

Bin disappeared momentarily to the study and returned with the two visitors. Salmeo bowed low but Horz prostrated himself.

‘Stand,’ Boaz ordered and watched the Head of the Elim return only to his knees, head bowed. ‘Horz,’ he began, glad his voice was free of all the tremors he had feared. ‘The Grand Master Eunuch has shared—most reluctantly, I might add—some information that has devastated my
feelings about the Elim. I gather you know what I refer to?’

‘I do, my Zar, but I beg you not to blame the Elim for this deed. Its honour is intact, for the act you refer to is all my own doing.’

‘So you admit it?’

‘I admit that it was my sole doing, High One.’

‘Say it aloud so we are clear, Horz,’ Boaz stressed.

The man swallowed hard and Boaz could see his hand trembling. ‘I killed Spur Lazar with poison that I stole from the apothecary. Without the Inflictors’ knowledge, I dipped the tips of the Viper’s Nest into the lethal potion known as drezden.’

He fell silent. Salmeo nudged Horz with his toe and the man began speaking again. ‘I had already blackmailed the head Inflictor into leaving his post on a pretend excuse; the deputy, Rah, was ill. It left only the apprentice, Shaz, who I was sure would botch the flogging, particularly using the snake whip which I insisted he use.’ The man was speaking with the detachment of someone reading a prepared script.

‘Stop!’ Boaz commanded. ‘Grand Master Eunuch, would you leave us for a short while. I wish to speak with Horz alone.’

Salmeo gave a soft, bouncing bow, although Boaz did not miss the glare he threw towards the Elim.

‘Look at me, Horz,’ and the man reluctantly lifted his head.

Boaz looked at the angry eyes and the defiant set of the mouth that belied the humble tone and the willing confession. It didn’t take much to put the scenario together in his mind and he regretted deeply now not sending a runner to fetch Horz far earlier and confronting him with Salmeo’s claims as he stood before the Grand Master Eunuch. He felt suddenly empty. ‘I thought as much,’ he said sadly. ‘What has he got over you, Horz, that you would lie for him? It can’t be loyalty, for what you’re admitting to surely goes against everything you stand for, have always stood for.’

They both knew what he meant.

Horz took a moment to compose himself and when he spoke it was evenly said, no wrath flavouring his words. ‘I am not lying, Highness. I am honourable in this confession.’ His eyes silently said something different.

It broke Boaz’s heart but he was helpless. It was obvious that Horz had somehow been compromised but the man was openly and determinedly confessing to a murder and it was he alone who must take the full blame. Bin was called and told to readmit Salmeo, who flounced in confidently but was careful to keep his expression sombre as he bowed yet again.

‘Is everything all right, my Zar?’

‘Yes, everything is perfectly as you described it, Grand Master Eunuch,’ Boaz replied archly.

Salmeo inclined his head in thanks and Boaz had no choice but to allow the Head of the Elim to continue to weave his sad lies.

It was done. Boaz imagined Salmeo was inwardly gloating, although his expression betrayed nothing but intense sympathy for the kneeling figure.

‘We will require a formal witness from my council for sentencing,’ Boaz said. ‘Bin?’

The manservant stepped forward from the recesses of the chamber. ‘My Zar?’

‘Fetch the Vizier, and I suppose you had better fetch the Valide Zara too.’

The servant bowed and left the room, urgently calling runners. Boaz excused himself but without much courtesy. He could no longer bear to look at Horz or the smug Grand Master Eunuch without wanting to hurt both of them for thinking he was so gullible.

But, as his father had constantly counselled, information is power. Boaz knew about Salmeo and the eunuch no doubt understood this. It gave Boaz some satisfaction to know that the fat man was now in his debt and might never feel as comfortable again in the Zar’s presence.

Bin was surprisingly swift in rounding up the Vizier and the Valide prior to supper.

He returned again to the study. Horz had not moved from his kneeling position, although
Salmeo had deliberately distanced himself from the criminal. Boaz felt the flutters of anger again at the chief eunuch’s audacity but he damped them down, knowing them to be a useless waste of energy.

‘Mother, Tariq,’ he acknowledged and both bowed. Once again he was struck by the new posture of the Vizier. His eyes were definitely deceiving him for the man seemed ever straighter, taller than he had just a few hours previous—even his complexion looked less pasty. His mother, by comparison, looked deeply unhappy in her dark garments with no adornments whatsoever. She looked almost as though she were in mourning.

He wasted no further time on courtesies. ‘You are here to witness the sentencing of Horz, Head of the Elim, who has confessed to the premeditated murder of Spur Lazar.’

Herezah gave a soft sound of shock. Not much surprised the Valide but this statement had. Tariq, Boaz noted, said nothing and in fact barely flinched at the news, suggesting either he didn’t care or, more likely, the man knew more than he was sharing.

‘Grand Master Eunuch has assisted in winning this confession,’ Boaz replied, his words couching the silent threat to Salmeo.

‘And what reason, my Zar—if you don’t mind my inquiry—has Salmeo wrung from Horz for wanting to murder our Spur?’ It was said innocently enough but Boaz looked sharply at the
Vizier. It seemed Tariq had already discounted Horz’s involvement in Lazar’s death too.

The eunuch demurred. ‘It is not my place. I shall leave that to our Zar to explain.’

Boaz briefly filled the newcomers in on the facts.

‘Because of that girl!’ Herezah exclaimed, angry now. ‘She is more trouble than she’s worth—first the escape, then the Spur’s flogging and now we learn he’s been slain because of a father’s anger on her behalf.’

‘Mother, please,’ Boaz calmed.

But Herezah could not let this go. Her anguish at the realisation she would never again look upon the Spur had crystallised this past couple of hours and her sense of self-pity at losing him had turned to anger. She could not forget Joreb’s counsel to her to keep Lazar close to their son. Now she was fearful for her little lion and especially for her position and power that she had worked so long and so hard to attain. It spilled over. ‘She’s a goatherd’s daughter, a peasant! We’ve lost Lazar because of her.’

There were too many underlying agendas for Boaz’s comfort. The myriad feelings emanating from the various people in this room had very little to do with sorrow that a good and senior man had lost his life to deceit.

‘Silence!’ Boaz said, more harshly than he intended. ‘Bin, you will record this and name the Valide Zara, Vizier Tariq and the Grand Master Eunuch, Salmeo, as witnesses.’

Bin nodded in the background, preparing to scribe the details.

‘Horz, please stand.’

The tall man finally stood.

‘You have confessed to the murder of Spur Lazar and thus you will be taken from here to the Palace Pit where you will await execution. You are viewed as a traitor to Percheron and will be accorded the appropriate punishment.’ He glanced towards Bin, who looked up quizzically.

Boaz no longer cared for sensitivity. ‘Horz, you will ride the needle at the bell of midday tomorrow. Until then you will be given no food, water or companionship. You will not address the Elim, and you will not be permitted to speak with any family members. You have betrayed your Zar and your country. Thus your corpse will rot on the needle to be a warning to all who choose to betray me.’

Boaz could hardly believe the vehemence in his own voice, although the pain reflected in Horz’s face almost undid him as he understood how harshly his words injured a man who had never been untrue to his Zar.

He would privately see that Horz had retribution, but sadly not in this life. Horz would have to enjoy his satisfaction from Zarab’s Kingdom.

‘Begone from me,’ Boaz added. ‘May Zarab offer you the sanctuary that your Zar cannot.’ And he knew Horz understood his careful words of regret.

She turned at the sound, rising from her chair. ‘Oh it’s you.’

‘You knew I would come, Zafira.’

‘Can I offer you something?’

‘Information only this visit. I can’t be away long.’

‘Then sit, Pez, you’re making me nervous.’

‘Have you reason to be?’

He noticed how she rubbed her hands against her robe. ‘Why would you ask such a thing?’

‘Because you’re uncomfortable and I’ve never known you to be anything but entirely relaxed in my presence.’

‘Sit, Pez.’ She sighed. ‘This has been a difficult few days.’

‘I can imagine,’ he replied, seating himself on the only comfy chair in the room.

Zafira lowered herself back into one of the harder, upright chairs at her table. ‘You want to know where Ellyana is,’ she said, reading him accurately.

‘I gave my word to Jumo.’

‘Please, Pez, I can’t answer any more questions.’

‘Why, Zafira? What are you scared of?’

‘You would be scared too,’ she groaned, turning to face him now and, despite her anguish, marvelling again at his likeness to a bird. She knew which one now and it struck her as uncanny that it had taken her so long to see this.

‘If I knew what?’ he demanded.

‘Why I have been told to give you this,’ she said quietly, reaching into her robe and bringing out a small gold sculpture. Her hand trembled as she held it out to him.

Pez frowned. How could Zafira know that this was why he was here? ‘An owl? It doesn’t belong to me.’

‘It does. It always has. It just has to find you each time.’

Pez shook his head. ‘I wish I knew what you were talking about, Zafira.’

‘This statue was given to Ana in the bazaar before she was formally taken into the palace. She asked Lazar to look after it for her because she knew she would not be permitted to keep it in the harem. Ana told Lazar that it was to remind him of her. She did not expect to see him again.’

‘She was wrong.’ He didn’t mean to sound so petulant but he was feeling frustrated and scared.

Zafira nodded. ‘Lazar kept the owl. He planned to keep it close as Ana had begged, but at the
island,’ she faltered slightly here in her telling. Pez stored this moment away to think on later.

‘Yes?’ he prompted.

‘He tried to give it to Ellyana.’

‘Because he knew he was dying?’

Zafira shrugged.

Pez tried not to show his dissatisfaction at her evasiveness. ‘You’re going to tell me she refused.’

‘She did. Ellyana said the owl makes its own journey to whom it seeks. She told Lazar that Ana had made her choice who to pass it to and Lazar must now make his choice. She cautioned that it must pass forwards, never backwards…at least, until Iridor has risen.’

‘I see. How was Lazar to know who was the next recipient?’

‘Ellyana said his heart would tell him—he must follow his instincts.’

‘Lazar chose me,’ he said flatly.

She nodded slowly, her eyes locking now with his.

‘I have no idea why,’ Pez said airily. ‘I’ve never seen it before and I’d prefer not to keep something so obviously valuable about me.’

‘Pez,’ she urged, her voice hard now. ‘Let me tell you in whose image this statue has been crafted.’

He knew he didn’t want to hear what she was going to say next. He heard the warning bells in his mind, felt the beat of his heart warning him to flee, but he was trapped in the chair as if the
weight of the world was pressing him down into its cushions. He also knew who the owl was.

‘This is Iridor. And he belongs to you.’

As if mesmerised, or under some sort of hypnotic spell he’d witnessed Yozem practise against gullible folk, Pez reached out his hand. Everything inside screamed at him to refuse it but he watched in dread awe as the red jewels of the eyes sparkled with what seemed to be their own fire.

Accept me, Pez,
it urged in his mind, and whether he thought he was imagining that voice or not, he answered its call, taking the owl into his palm and closing his fingers around its searing warmth.

Then he vanished.

He was in the desert and he could hear his own panicked breathing but he could not see anything for it was night and it felt as though the Samazen was whipping up about him. He didn’t feel frightened though; strangely enough he felt comforted by the warmth burning within him.

What had just happened?
Feeling stupid he called out Zafira’s name but his voice was fractured and carried away on shifting sands that seemed to swirl about him.

There was nothing to do but exist there. He wasn’t sure whether he was still sitting or whether he stood. He couldn’t move for fear of what might occur; perhaps he was on a precipice or at the top
of some great dune. He had no idea and, fright aside, he had no inclination to move. It felt oddly safe here amid the sounds of the Samazen with a fire burning inside, but soon enough the noise of the sand and wind died away. The clouds that he thought had been covering the moon were not there, perhaps never were. The great silver orb hung low and beautiful in the night sky whilst millions of stars winked at him. Pez sighed out a long breath of pleasure. Wherever he was he wished he could remain here.

Pez.

He replied instinctively.
Iridor?

Thank you for knowing me.

Why am I here?

To fight her battle once again.

The Goddess?

He imagined whoever owned that voice nodding.
Lyana must prepare for her war but the Messenger must rise first.

And I am the Messenger?

Yes.

I don’t understand.

You have been chosen, Pez, as others have been chosen before you.

What is my role as Messenger?

You are wise counsel to those who protect and nurture Lyana. You are their friend. You are eyes and ears for them, for her. You tell her what she needs to know.

But that is you, Iridor, not me.

We are one.

How can that be?

Because you are chosen. Release me from the statue. Let our spirits combine.

How?

You have already opened your mind to me. Now open your heart. I am friend, not foe. I will never hurt you or those you love, but we together are warriors for the battle.

Against Maliz?

Yes.

Has he begun remaking himself?
Pez asked, astounded, remembering the old story.

Yes, it is done, but he does not know who Iridor is for this fight.

How will we know who he is?

You will discover, as he will discover you.

The notion of what was being discussed suddenly felt too large. It overwhelmed Pez.
Are you sure it’s me? You can see me, can’t you? An ugly dwarf, a supposed imbecile? What can I possibly do, how can I—

Hush, Pez,
the voice soothed.
You were born this way in order to be Iridor. You learned early how to hide your true self. You have known your abilities since very young…and you have hidden them well. Accept me fully, Pez.

Is that my name?

Your earthly name, yes. Your heavenly name has always been Iridor and all of us who worship the Mother see nothing but your beauty.

At this Pez thought he might have wept. He couldn’t be sure. The voice talking to him was gentle. It demanded nothing. It simply asked him to join the fight, make use of the powers he had been gifted.

Do I belong to Lyana?

Of course, you always have. She loves you and you are her closest friend.

The calming words, the gentle voice, the warmth throughout his being, told him to accept this special task.

I won’t let her down.

You never have. When you awake we shall be one but you cannot come into your full power yet, though it will be soon. Until then you will still have questions. Listen closely to those who can help you.

And the desert night blazed into a silvery fire.

He sucked in a huge breath and realised Zafira was standing over him, her face a mask of worry.

‘Pez!’

‘What happened?’ he said, mostly out of a shocked response to her nearness and concern.

‘You tell me. One minute we were talking and the next you became silent, rigid in the chair. I couldn’t reach you. I was talking to you and pulling at you but you were like the statue you grasped so hard in your fist.’

He relaxed the white-knuckled grip, his hand opening slowly to reveal a silver owl and the jewel eyes that were no longer red. They glittered
yellow now, as if all the gold from its body had been absorbed into its eyes. He realised they were the colour of his own eyes; his strange yellowish eyes that had always fascinated and repulsed people.

Zafira gave a sound of exclamation. ‘What’s happened to you, to it?’

‘I don’t know how this has happened,’ he claimed truthfully. ‘I…I felt like I was travelling.’

‘When? Just now when you were like stone?’

He nodded. ‘I can’t remember what occurred,’ he added, deciding to lie now. He was not ready to share his secrets with Zafira and his mind was suddenly aware that an ancient knowledge lay within. He couldn’t touch it yet for it sat dormant as the spirit had promised. He wondered when would be his time.

Zafira was still talking anxiously. ‘You called my name but then I felt as though I’d lost you.’

Pez was silent. He knew he was shaking. ‘I can’t remember anything,’ he reiterated, wondering why Zafira herself looked as shocked as he was feeling. ‘I do remember what you told me though. I have some questions.’

‘Ask them,’ she said, no sign of her concern dissipating.

‘The old woman in the bazaar who gave the owl to Ana—’

She knew what he was going to ask. ‘Yes, it was Ellyana.’

‘She was also my Bundle Woman.’

‘I know.’

‘So she deliberately sought me out and then with the same intent went after Ana and Lazar. Why not just give me the owl when we first met?’

‘Pez, I don’t know as much as you think I do but I gather that Ellyana was drawn to all of you as she was to me. She was compelled you could say. The owl finds its own, as I have explained. And when Ana approached her, Ellyana realised this was the young woman she was seeking. Lazar, I’m not sure. He could have simply been a bystander.’

‘Then why would she try and save his life?’ he prompted. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Compassion?’

He snorted. ‘Don’t play me for a fool, Zafira. I’m not suggesting that Ellyana’s cruel but she is obviously very focused. Her mind is set on one thing—whatever it is—and it involves me and Ana and I’d suggest Lazar as well as yourself. There was nothing coincidental about her arrival at the temple and there was nothing casual about her decision to aid Lazar. She wanted to save his life, needed to save his life. He is as involved as the rest of us. But now she’s lost him—that’s where it all falls apart. How did she react to his death? It must have been a shock’

Zafira shrugged, looked awkward. ‘I was too upset to take much notice and it’s not as though we had much control over poison.’

‘Yes, but you recall she was so calm at the temple and even mentioned that she should have guessed something like this would happen. She was perturbed but not terrified for his life as the rest of us were. It was as though she knew something we didn’t. And still he died.’ He shook his head. ‘It just doesn’t make sense. Didn’t you talk to her? Hasn’t it struck you as odd that she’s turned up now?’

‘Yes. But, Pez, I lack your inquisitiveness. Since she arrived at the temple my feeling of being unsettled has disappeared. She is a fellow priestess and her quiet presence has calmed me. I am enjoying not questioning my existence any more.’

‘So what has she said to ease your anxiety?’

‘That we are sisters and that I have already contributed to the Mother.’

‘There must be more,’ Pez pushed.

She hesitated.

‘Tell me,’ he urged.

‘She said that Lyana was coming again. She knew because Iridor was rising. Ellyana assured me that my work was just beginning and I would be instrumental in aiding Lyana for the battle ahead.’

Pez had no response to this. It was as disturbing to him to hear this as it was for Zafira to repeat it. They were both involved, then, in the resurrection of the Mother. They stared at each other, helpless.

‘And I’m Iridor,’ he said finally. He still didn’t want to believe it. Still couldn’t, in truth.

‘Yes, that’s what I think Ellyana must have wanted you to understand, why she gave this to Ana presumably, hoping it would find its way to you in the harem. But Ana gave it to Lazar…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘And still it found its way to me,’ he finished her thought for them both. Pez sat forward and took her hand, a plea in his voice. ‘But how do we know this is truth? What do we know about Iridor? How can we possibly accept that I am this…this—’ He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

‘Demi-god?’

He nodded.

‘So tell me what you do know of Iridor.’

He sat back, despondent. ‘Very little. An owl apparently.’

She looked suddenly excited. ‘He hides himself from others, listens, gathers information and he takes the form of a silvery-white owl at will.’

He feigned a smile. ‘Well, I fit the bill on the first three but that last item surely counts me out. I ask you, Zafira, do I look like a bird?’ His voice was filled with amusement at such a notion.

‘As a matter of fact you do,’ she surprised him.

He snorted his derision. ‘A silvery-white bird?’

‘Come with me, Pez,’ she said softly.

‘Where?’

‘Over here,’ she said, standing and walking towards a small bureau that had her comb and brush, her chain with the Cross of Life pendant and a few other possessions, including a pretty
ornamental hand mirror worked in silver. She picked it up. ‘Look at yourself.’

And Pez did, taking the mirror from her hand and staring into it aghast. He had never cared much for his reflection at the best of times but now he was stunned.

‘My hair’s gone white!’