Herezah noticed he could barely hide a sneer as he handed it to her. "Good luck, Lazar. I hope you will allow me to say farewell properly."

Lazar refused to answer her, bowing instead to the Zar. "I shall take my leave, Majesty."

But Lazar didn't leave immediately. Suffused with anger, he left a message with Bin that he would be in his old sick chamber and wished to speak with the Valide if she would meet him there.

He strode through the palace toward the harem, veering off in the direction of the wing where his former rooms were located. Once inside, he prowled around his old quarters, as restless as one of the great cats he had watched roaming up and down its caged enclosure in the royal zoo. Memories got the better of him. He left the chamber as thoughts of Herezah's seduction assaulted him for the second time today, stepping out grim-faced onto the balcony and dragging in a lungful of sea air in the hope of clearing his mind. The task ahead was fraught with danger; he really needed to be focused on Ana and Arafanz, not Herezah's petty manipulations. He waited for an hour, lost in his thoughts.

"Thinking about me?" a voice drawled as arms came around his waist.

It was unlike Lazar to allow anyone to creep up on him, and he rounded on her angrily, as much for his vulnerability as for his anger at her actions.

He pulled her arms from his body roughly. "What game are you playing at now, Herezah?"

"Lazar!" she breathed. "You are exciting when you are stirred like this."

He batted away her playful hands. "Have you finally gone mad?" he demanded. "What is in your head, convincing your son to go into the desert? You are aware that Arafanz is likely to want the entire royal family, and those that serve them, dead?"

"How can you possibly know that?" she asked, her friskiness temporarily banished.

Yes, how can I know that? he asked himself, annoyed that he'd let that information from Pez slip.

Herezah gave him the answer. "Did that madman threaten us further after he'd sent us off like dogs running in the desert?"

"Did you think he was just playing some sort of game? Did you not imagine that he would strike you down in a blink? Of course he told me! His very intention is to kill the Zar."

She frowned, arrested by his claim. "He stole Ana to lure Boaz?"

"Quite possibly."

"I thought he'd taken her for himself."

"I believe his intentions are aimed squarely at the Crown. And now you've just handed him the Zar of Percheron on a platter. I had a slim chance, Herezah, of finding and bringing back the heir of this realm. You've dashed that tiny chance now. You've not just burdened me with Boaz, inexperienced, needing day-and-night protection because of who he is, but just in case it wasn't enough of a challenge you've also lumbered me with an old man who brings nothing but more trouble. Plus there's Pez. How am I supposed to launch a rescue mission when I'm babysitting the Zar of Percheron?"

He was just short of shouting, knew he was getting through because for only the second time in all the years he'd known her, Herezah looked frightened. The first had been when she was facing death at the hands of Arafanz's warriors. Now she looked genuinely fearful of him.

"I...I thought it was the right thing to do. He is in greater danger here, surely?"

"The right thing for him?" Lazar mimicked. "Or for you? Now you get to play queen for a while!" He twisted back to face the sea, his disgust at her at clearly visible on his face, mixed with anger.

"Is that what you really think?"

"Tell me, Herezah, because I'm all ears as to what else could possibly inspire you to send your precious son to almost certain death!" he spat.

"I won't be spoken to like this."

"You won't? Or you'll have me flogged, burned, have my throat cut? I think not, Valide. Not when there's a Galinsean war fleet just itching to pull into Percheron's bay, and when our only slim hopeand that's all it is, let me assure youof holding off war is me alive and well."

"You have an inflated idea of your importance to this realm," she hurled at him.

He surprised himself by laughing. "Is that so? Valide, without me the heir of Percheron is lost. And that means the society you know and love is finished. How do you fancy living under Galinsean rule? You'll be well and truly out of the haremthat I can promise you. But you may not like serving King Falza and he will be sure to turn you, especially, into a proper slave. No gowns, no servants, no bathing, no feasting. You'll work so hard you'll weep. Your skin will itch from lack of cleanliness, your so beautifully groomed fingernails will be filthy and broken. But let's look on the good side. You'll certainly have at least one meal a day and you'll never have to fret about the men in your life." He leaned close. "You'll have them queuing at the door and they won't have to ask your permission."

She shoved him away, breathing hard. "I do not have grand notions of ruling alone. Believe me Lazar, this was not my idea."

"Not your idea? I know it wasn't Boaz's inspiration. His mind doesn't work like that. Only yours does!"

"You forget, you arrogant Galinsean swine, that my being Boaz's proxy shifts focus away from our dalliance."

Her words hit like stones. "Swine? I'll remember that next time you're throwing your body at me. Let's be clear right now, Herezah; there was no dalliance, as you call it. There was a woman, filled with lust like a dog in heat, who took advantage of her position and a man's gratitude for her kindness, a kindness so rare in his experience with her that he was surprised into giving over a measure of trust. You may recall, through your haze of salacious desire, that this dalliance was one-sided."

"That's not what my hand told me." She sneered, glancing toward his crotch.

His lips thinned. "Valide, it seems you have not known enough men. A shehazzah from the docks who preys on drunken sailors with little coin could achieve the same effect, so long as I didn't have to see her face or smell her. Her hand is no different from yours, just dirtier...perhaps more experienced."

The sound of the slap across his face seemed to echo off the walls. For a moment, whilst he saw stars, Lazar was certain the Elim would come running to see what had created such a terrible noise.

He didn't cover his cheek with his hand, though. He turned and stared back at her, eyes glittering with such fury and threat that Herezah looked down.

"Lazar, I'm sor" But she was not permitted to finish her apology.

"You will never raise your hand to me again, do you understand that, Valide? The next time you think about striking Galinsean royalty, be prepared to die for the privilege." She looked up at him, visibly trembling. "And I never want to feel your touch on me again. It revolts me."

"Lazar! I was just trying to protect you, I swear it."

"Protect me? From whom?"

"From Boaz. He suspects you of holding unhealthy feelings for his wife."

"You lie!"

"I do not! Ask him yourself if you dare. Didn't he warn you before you left on the desert journey? He certainly warned your little Ana to be very careful how she conducted herself. And you were both certainly cautious. You are transparent to me, Spur. I have never allowed myself to dream that you might fall under my spell as you have Ana's. But I am under yours, and call that idiocy if you must, but it prompted me to hide your sad devotion to her behind the ruse that you and I are lovers."

He continued to stare unblinking, shocked by her mangled rationale but determined not to admit to his true feelings. "You really believe you are helping me, don't you?"

"Boaz is a man of passion, Lazarand he's too young to be as rational as you or I. He has been carried away by his ferocious love for the same woman who has seemingly stolen your heart. No," she said, a finger to her lips as she spoke softly, "do not deny it. It matters not anymore, for she can never be yours. The fact is, Ana carries our heir. And I will do everything I can to ensure that Joreb's line continues to rule Percheron. That baby is more important than you or I, than Ana...than Boaz himself. The boy must be brought under our safety."

"And if it's a girl?"

She shook her head. "I've had Yozem, my crone, do a foretelling. I used some of Ana's hair." She shrugged. "I stole a wisp as she slept. It is a male, Lazar. It is our new ZarBoaz is not interested in any other son than that of his union with Ana."

"What do you gain by sending him into the desert with me?" He could still feel the sting of her slap, wondered if she'd left her livid mark upon him.

"To keep him safe, too."

He gave a harsh laugh of helplessness. "Safe?"

"Tariq said if we"

"Tariq? What's he got to do with this?" he demanded, no longer lost in the sneer.

"This was his idea!"

His voice turned to a hiss. "The Grand Vizier put you up to this? Why?"

She looked at him as though he was being especially thickskulled. "For the same reason, Lazar. He wants Boaz kept safe, away from the city, far from any Galinsean blade."

"Herezah, if you believe that, you are a fool."

It was her turn to show offense. "I am no fool, Spur. If not for Boaz's sake, why would he put himself through the danger of traveling through the desert?"

"Did Tariq specifically ask you to do this?"

"Of a fashion."

The pulse at Lazar's temple throbbed as he grabbed her arm. The hiss had become a growl. "Did the Grand Vizier tell you that he wanted to be on this journey?"

"You're hurting me," she warned through gritted teeth. He squeezed harder. "Yes, damn you! Yes! He insists upon it."

Lazar let her go, and twisted away from her. He needed to think but there was no time. He understood her motives finally but suddenly they were irrelevant; there was so much more at stake now.

"Lazar!" she called to his back. "Wait, I"

He turned and sneered. "Farewell, Herezah. Enjoy the chance to punish Salmeo in your new role."

Herezah had left her son almost immediately after Lazar had taken his leave of Boaz. In the meantime, the Grand Vizier had been summoned and given the news that he would accompany the Zar and the Spur into the desert.

"I know this is a shock for you, Tariq, but we think it's best if all the senior male counselors are removed as well. I want to ensure that the Galinseans have only the Valide to discourse with."

Maliz knew it would surprise Boaz when he took a philosophical approach. He shook his head. "No, my Zar, I am not shocked. I think the idea is clever. I completely agree with your view that Falza would not consider it manly to make war upon a seemingly helpless woman. It's that damned Galinsean pride that may well save our skins."

"So you're not upset?"

"It matters not if I were, Highness. We are making vital decisions now for the good of Percheron."

"Tariq, you constantly surprise me. I imagine the desert is the last place you might wish to go, but I would appreciate your wise counsel alongside myself and the Spur."

Inwardly, Maliz smiled. Herezah had done her job so very well. "My Zar, it would be an honor to stay close to you and serve you however you see fit. I thought you said Pez was going along as well."

Maliz watched the Zar hesitate before replying. He wondered what that meant. "Er, yes, he is."

"So it's a party of four."

"The Spur reckons that is three people too many."

The Grand Vizier obliged with a soft ghost of a smile. "I imagine he would. What can I do? Shall I make arrangements for Pez as well as us?"

And again he noticed a slight hedging in the response from the Zar. Why was his mentioning Pez making Boaz feel uncomfortable? "My Zar, I have to tell you that I believe your royal jester is frightened of me."

Boaz nodded. "The Elim mentioned there was an incident this morning."

"A misunderstanding, Highness. Pez decided I was attacking him when I was simply checking that he was all right. He had fallen down."

"Pez can misconstrue anyone's intentions, Tariq," Boaz replied. Maliz sensed that the Zar was choosing his words with care.

"I shall do my utmost to make friends with him on this trip."

"I think it would be best if you kept your distance, Tariq. In fact, I may have to insist upon it. Pez is highly agitated. I've seen him and whatever actually happened is of little consequence. He is disturbed and distressed...and that makes him difficult to handle. We cannot risk his jeopardizing our journey. But I cannot leave him in the palace. He can disrupt delicate talks and he is best under the control of myself or Lazar."

Maliz was delightednow that his place on the caravan was secured and his plans were taking shape, he felt the time was right to deal with the dwarf and his suspicions.

"I shall be careful to give him a very wide berth, then, Majesty, as you request."

It was no request, of course, but still he watched the Zar nod. "That's good. We need Pez calm for this journey."

"Where is the jester now, Highness? I shall keep a distance."

"No need to worry yourself. He is at Lazar's house and safe."

"Then let me hurry to finalize everything in my office and with my palace staff, Highness, in order that I can accompany your karak to the meeting point this evening."

Maliz left and hurried back to his official chambers in the palace. He wasted no time summoning a runner, scribbling a note, and giving the servant instructions as to where the note was to be delivered.

In very little time two strangers were admitted to the Grand Vizier's chambers.

Pez, keeping to himself at the Spur's house, had been deeply lost in thought at Lazar's hastily scrawled message.

Tariq, the Spur had carefully written, is up to something. He apparently insisted he come along, conscripted the help of the Valide to push his cause...and has been successful. What does this mean?

Pez had been trying to work it out ever since, pondering every possible angle as to why Maliz would run the risk of this second foray into the desert and a potential clash with Arafanz.

"It has to be Ana," he muttered to himself. "He must sense the same potential I always have."

His mind drifted as he considered every possible scenario. How had the demon settled his attention on Ana and why? Astray in his meandering thoughts, Pez allowed himself to feel too secure in Lazar's private sanctuary. His Lore sense was too preoccupied; he missed the stealthy arrival of two men, never saw the blow coming.

He awoke groggily to find himself trussed like an animal for slaughter and to see eyes he recognized, despite the disguise of the jamoosh, staring intently at him.

"Hello again, Pez," the Grand Vizier said. "Now I know you must be feeling rather illthat's a very nasty blow you tookand whether you understand me or not, I am going to do the polite thing and warn you that you have been given the root of topriz. Do you know what that is?"

Pez stared back, silent.

"I'll tell you anyway," Maliz said calmly. "It is the essence of a plant that curiously loosens the tongue. Not many people know of itits use has died out, you seebut it was very popular a few centuries ago in wartime to help release information from captured enemy soldiers."

Pez's head was throbbing. Nausea began to overwhelm him but he didn't dare draw on the Lore to help himself. Instead he began to recite the names of all the root plants he could think of.

The Grand Vizier smiled. "Mad? Or somehow impossibly feigning it?"

Pez began to weep. "My arms hurt." He was hoping it sounded especially childish, as if he couldn't concentrate on anything but the pain.

"I know, but it won't last too long. Time is short. The Spur will be back soon, I imagine. But I have him watched right now, I know his every movement."