"You may be surprised," Lazar added but turned away as further confusion flared in the royal's gaze. He would achieve nothing by making snide bites at the Zar, who was wholly oblivious to what was being played out around him.

"Mother, Ghassal will see you back to the palace. He will be your right-hand man throughout my absence and has orders to protect you with his life. You will do as he says whenever you leave the palaceis that understood?"

"Of course."

"Then wish me luck, Mother."

"Come home safely, Boaz."

Lazar couldn't help but wonder if Herezah meant that. She had at last her chance to rule by royal authoritycould there be a more perfect scenario for this woman?

As she bowed to Boaz, a plain karak arrived, bearing the Grand Vizier.

Boaz looked over his mother's bent shoulders. "Ah, Tariq, we were wondering where you were."

The Grand Vizier all but tumbled from the silk screens. "Forgive me, Majesty. I had to finalize a lot of irritating but necessary state business."

Boaz gave a look of contrived sympathy. "We are leaving now, so instruct your entourage to get back to the palace before it draws attention."

Lazar noticed that the Grand Vizier had the good sense to look suitably admonished once he had taken in the surrounds and realized that even his Zar had arrived without the fanfare of a karak and bearers.

"Again, forgive me, Majesty. My legs are not as young as yours and I knew we needed to make haste."

"Tariq, you seem younger each day," the Valide gibed, before inclining her head once more to her Zar and throwing a final glance toward Lazar. She turned and began sauntering back down the hill, seemingly carefree and in no hurryas though she had nothing more important on her mind than what flavor sherbet to choose that evening.

Lazar couldn't help himself. "I do hope you've made a wise decision, Fayiz."

Boaz nodded, looking equally concerned.

"Fayiz?" the Grand Vizier queried.

Lazar turned his attention from the retreating and graceful back of the Valide. "And you shall be called Garjan."

"Garjan?" Maliz repeated. "I don't know that word."

"It's very old, very colloquial Galinsean," Lazar said, realizing too late that his couched insult could backfire should the demon recognize the word's true meaning: of evil import.

"Oh? How does that translate to our language?"

Lazar nodded. "It means 'wise one' and is usually directed at our older citizens who have earned great respect."

The Grand Vizier smiled. "Indeed? How appropriate. Garjanyes, I like its sound. So we move in disguise now?"

"We do," Lazar replied. "Do we go on without Pez?" He directed the question to Boaz, but kept his eye on the Grand Vizier.

"We'll have to, although I'm not sure how he'll catch up."

"He knows the way; he also knows the meeting point where we pick up our camels."

"From the Khalid people? I hear some accompanied you on the last trip." Boaz sounded irritated.

Lazar nodded, ignored his Zar's vexation. "They have agreed to supply our beasts directly. Otherwise we would need to make a couple of stops, once to make an exchange with my usual supplier and then to meet up with the desert people. You will like them and must forgive their fleeing that terrible night. It was the wisest course of action; I would have ordered the same if I had been in a position to. Pez will find us, I'm sure," Lazar added, unable to resist needling at the Grand Vizier. "Did you see him at all this afternoon, Garjan?"

"Yes, I did," the Grand Vizier snapped. "Annoying as ever. Turning somersaults down the main palace hallway and dribbling a great volume. He really is impossible at times."

"Oh? When was that?"

The Grand Vizier looked even more annoyed. "Moments before I left."

"And he seemed well?" Lazar persisted.

"If by well you mean was he animated, then I would have to say that yes, he was. He was his normal, thoroughly insane self," the Grand Vizier replied testily.

Lazar nodded his thanks, hiding his burning desire to grab his sword and cut the liar down. With the Grand Vizier's blatant lie, he now knew for sure that Maliz was behind the attempt on Pez's life. But he remembered the dwarf 's warning that the demon could not be killed by conventional means and also that the supporters of Lyana must never reveal themselves. He swallowed his hate and instead said, "Well, brothers, shall we?" as he gestured toward the horses.

"Iridor?"

"What?" Ana said groggily.

Arafanz gently swept the hair back from her face. "I thought the baby must have begun its labor but I remember now that you said Iridor."

She felt weepy. "I know."

"You are trembling. What just happened? Tell me while I find us some shade," Arafanz said, his concern genuine. He lifted Ana effortlessly. Her arms clung around his neck as he walked her over to the rock face, which gave a measure of shade in its shadows.

He tenderly placed her down. "Let me fetch some water."

Ana stared, her gaze unfocused as she tried to imagine the scenario playing itself out in the city of Percheron, where she knew Pez must be.

Arafanz was back, crouching at her side and urging her to sip from the water skin. She obliged, not because she was thirsty but because she knew it pleased him to feel useful and it bought her some time to think.

He began carefully. "Ana, I know you see me as your enemy but the truth is we are on the same side, you and I. Will you tell me what has happened?"

She gazed into his anxious face, so close to her own; she noted that he had trimmed his beard today and for the first time saw that his eyes had golden flecks in what she had always thought were deep brown. He was close enough for her to be aware that his breath smelled sweetly of clove. His age remained very difficult to determine; he was not old, not by any means, and yet the lines in his face gave clues that this man had already lived a life that was more than twice hers in years. Not immediately aware of her own action, surprising herself with her tenderness toward her captor, Ana touched his cheek in a gesture that could not be mistaken for anything but affection. Her hand lingered, and although he initially hesitated, she watched now as the man who had imprisoned her, who had so frightened her, now nestled his face against her hand and closed his eyes. His response could not be mistaken for anything so innocent as a simple gesture of friendship.

"Don't, Ana," he begged, his voice suddenly hoarse.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, moving to pull her hand away, but he stopped her, covering it with his own, pushing her hand still harder against his cheek as he turned and kissed her palm. She felt his close beard graze her skin, his soft lips adore her.

His reply was taut and tense. "I say don't but I am lying to myself. I can't resist you," he groaned. "You make me weak. I want to avoid you and yet I struggle not to see you each day now."

"I noticed," she said softly, terrified by what he was building up to saying. She realized she had long suspected him guilty of harboring feelings toward her that conflicted with his role as her keeper.

He opened his eyes. "Ana, I"

"Shh," she pleaded. "Don't say any more. Let this lie unspoken between us. It has no future."

To Ana he looked sad enough to cry; instead of doing so, he pulled back from her and offered the water again. She took the flask simply to have something to do with her hands and as a distraction for them both. She berated herself for feeling instantly bereft at his withdrawal. Was she truly heartlessno different from Herezah or Salmeo? How else could she find herself in the position of having three men in love with her? And worst of all, she held each in a separate place within; there was a fondness for Boaz, an irrefutable attraction to Arafanz, but there was a deep, abiding love for Lazar. Lazar alone owned her heart, yet their love seemed doomed.

Arafanz's voice was more even when he spoke again. "If we cannot speak of my affection for you, will you tell me what just happened? Why you just became so upset?"

"Do you trust Lyana?"

"With my soul!" he declared.

"Then continue that way. She has chosen not to share her plans with any of us and I imagine there is good reason. I am not Lyana. I have no idea of my part in this struggle but I did feel something bad happening just now and Iridor came to mind."

"You are connected to him?"

"Presumably. Of course I could have imagined it."

He shook his head as he sat back, scratching at the newly trimmed beard and again she was struck by how often he reminded her of Lazar. "No. Something did happen. Did you notice the skies, did you hear the roar?"

"What roar?"

"You didn't hear? I don't know what it wasI think it was the wind."

"The Samazen?"

"Possibly, but it came and went as the skies darkened and then lightened again. Is Iridor dead?"

Ana didn't know, wasn't sure she was remembering what had actually happened. She had felt pain, she thought. "Did I faint?"

"For a few moments, yes. You recovered swiftly."

"I can't remember what occurred. I just heard his name in my mind."

"Is that all? What would prompt you to claim he was dead?"

She shook her head, baffled. She would think it through later when she was alone, convinced she would recall exactly what had taken place. The fear that something had happened to Pez would not leave her, though, and for once she wanted to return to the fortress.

"I...I don't feel too well."

Arafanz smiled sadly. "Let's get you back. All we have to do is point Farim in the opposite direction. Remember thatshe will always get you to the cave or to the fortress from the cave."

"I'm sorry we didn't make it there today," she said, meaning it. This would have been their first return since the Crystal Pillars had spoken to her.

He nodded. "I'm afraid we will not risk you out in the desert again. I sense the child is due. We must take care of you now." He began guiding her back to the patient Farim.

"Arafanz!" she called, a sudden notion all but taking her breath away. "Do you mean to steal my baby from me?"

His expression had never seemed so desolate to her. And she knew that expression, had seen it several times on the man she loved. She had to stop seeing Lazar in her mind's eye. "I once threatened your baby to your Spur. I was lying, of course. The son you carry is not yours, Ana. He belongs to Lyana and the new Percheron."

"So do I," she countered, her breathing shallow, suddenly angry.

"He belongs on the throne."

"And I will be Valide." It came out as a threat.

"Ellyana never said anything about"

"Oh, to Zarab's Fires for Ellyana!" she yelled.

Arafanz stepped away as if slapped. He looked genuinely shocked. But Ana hadn't finished. "I'm tired of Ellyana and her manipulations and what she's told whom and what she hasn't told someone else. She is using us all as pawns. I used to admire her. I wanted to help her. I felt...I felt as if we were connected somehow."

His eyes narrowed. "And now?"

"I despise her! Zarab have her! She feels more like my enemy now and she brings nothing but heartache and gloom to us all. She's convinced the few people who mean anything to me that they're involved in the struggle between Lyana and Zarab and yet all she's doing is leading us to our own demise. We'll never experience the satisfaction of Lyana's coming because we'll probably all be deadyou included!"

His expression smoothed. "I am not afraid to die in Lyana's cause."

"How did you become so fanatical, Arafanz? You must have had a life once, somewhere away from here? Be sure it's not Ellyana's cause you die for," she snapped, knowing her words were ridiculous but wanting to hurt him, wanting to injure him into seeing how he was being manipulated.

"They are one and the same, Ana. If you despise Ellyana, then you despise the Goddess herself."

"I don't," she said, her voice breaking, treacherous tears rising. "I don't despise Lyana. I want to serve her, I just don't see the point of constant suffering as a means of being her servant." Her hood and veil had fallen away and her hair was being blown softly by the gentle breeze beginning to stir across the dunes. He stroked her hair now, his gaze helplessly filled with affection, and again she saw a shadow, a reminder of Lazar. She was glad she was likely not to survive this struggle; she felt sure that she would begin to see Lazar in every man she ever spoke to, so desperate was she to see him again.

"You are so much more than her servant. Wait and see, Ana. She has a role for you that is yet to be explained. And your son will be a good ruler for Percheroncan you want more?"

"Yes! I want to be his mother in more ways than simply the vessel that carries him. I want to nurse him, watch him grow, witness his personality forming itself."

"See if he's like his father?"

She blushed brightly. "Perhaps he will be like me."

"Perhaps." Ana heard the end of their conversation in Arafanz's comment. "Come, this wind is strengthening and the camels sense it. We must return."

"It is early for the Samazen," she pondered aloud.

"Nothing is how it should be," he said. "We have all been warned that this time it is different...even for the desert winds."

"You are the difference, maybe?"

Farim knelt for her and Arafanz helped her position her cumbersome body on the saddle, luxuriously softened by blankets and cushions. "Not me. I certainly add a fresh aspect to the fray but I am not directly involved in Lyana's battle. My role is to put a new Zar on the throneone who is Lyana's disciple." He paused, then added, "Fresh blood, you could say," and she thought she saw guilt spark in his eyes before he looked away, cleared his throat.

"Then who? What is the difference?" she begged.

He shook his head. "Look to the other men who love you, Ana...and who love her, too. Perhaps the secret lies there."

13.

Iridor flexed his wings to let them dry. So this is me from now on?