"Hsst!" the other warned. "We must not assume anything until he makes water."

"Kett, Kett, Kett," the dwarf sang into the boy's face, working the name into a strange playful rhyme. All the time he stared hard, waiting for the slave to register his presence.

Finally, painfully, Kett opened his bloodshot eyes to slits. The red of his eyes matched his lips, which were bloody from from being bitten hard when the cut had been made.

"The drug is wearing off," one of the knifers whispered. "He'll start to cry out soon."

The other nodded. "How long to go?"

"Another fifty revolutions of the chamber at least, or until we hear the third bell."

"Leave us, Pez, you're not helping him."

"But I like him," Pez replied. The handlers both looked at the dwarf, baffled, and then ignored him again, vaguely irritated by his presence as he waddled backward in time with their steps. "We are friends aren't we, Kett?"

The boy winced, raised his head, and for a moment appeared conscious. "I am the raven," Kett slurred.

As Pez felt his blood turn to ice, the slave's eyes closed and he returned to his dazed stumble.

14.

Jumo was relieved to see the familiar figure and distinctive lope of Lazar arrive at the Spur's house in the early hours of the morning. The man he had waited for all night had arrived tired and distracted.

There was no greeting. "You shouldn't have waited up, Jumo. You know you don't have to wait on me."

"I have left a carafe of wine on the veranda."

Jumo left the Spur to brood alone, staring out to the Faranel, and presumed he would remain there for what was left of the night. He was right; the next morning he found the chair empty but a discarded blanket lying across it and a second carafe of undiluted wine nearby.

Lazar emerged minutes later looking freshened and clean-shaven but drawn, as if sleep had eluded him. His eyes possessed a haunted quality that Jumo had not seen before. Something was brewing; he had known this man too long not to be able to read the signs. It would be best, then, to give him the news now.

"A messenger arrived not long ago, Master."

"New orders?"

Jumo heard hope in his friend's voice and he knew how much Lazar must want to escape Percheron. "He was sent from the palaceafrom the Grand Master Eunuch's office." He watched Lazar's temple pulse. Knew that sign well.

"And?"

Nothing to be gained by hedging. "It's Ana. She has gone."

"Gone?"

Jumo nodded. "Escaped in the night."

Lazar looked at him, pain fleeting across his face. It was impossible. No one escaped the harem. The palace would expect him to find her, of course, not just because he had brought her to the harem but because he was the Spur and in charge of all security. "Any clues?"

"They think she slipped away disguised as a black eunuch."

Lazar, turning to move away, swung around and regarded Jumo with a hint of amusement. "They jest!"

"Apparently not," and Jumo couldn't help a small smirk himself. "They believe she wore a black jamoosh and blacked the area around her eyes with ash from a brazier."

Lazar couldn't help but admire Ana all the more for her defiance, but his pleasure in her act died quickly when he grasped the import of her rash actions. "They'll punish her, of course."

Jumo nodded. "I would say so. The Valide will want to do so for the spectacle of it and Salmeo will have to comply in order to reinforce his authority."

"We must find her first."

THE VALIDE HAD SPENT a restless night, her slumber disturbed by memories of Spur Lazar arguinga"no, pleadinga"for the monthly freedom of the golden girl from the western foothills. Oh, he had disguised his anxiety with his usual confidence but she had seen through it on this occasion; something about the way Lazar avoided looking at Ana. The rest of the men in the room could hardly keep their gazes from the youngster and yet Lazar had all but ignored her while requesting her release so eloquentlyaso insistently. Herezah had slipped between her silken sheets with a sense of triumph the previous evening. Nevertheless, a poor night's sleep and her suspicions being piqued aside, everything, she decided, was coming together nicely. She had both the fat eunuch and the fool Vizier eating out of her hands. She was confident that Boaz's harem would be one of the finest ever assembled and the goatherd's adopted daughter was a prize jewel among a veritable collection of precious gems. All the girls were stunning but it was true that there was something extraordinary about that one. She felt sure Ana would be one of those who would produce an heir; Boaz would pick her as soon as he was ready to lie with a woman, for Ana's looks were too startling to ignore. However, Herezah would have to be careful that the girl did not steal her son's heart entirely. Herezah wasn't ready for a power struggle.

Boaz was going to need careful handling. She needed to find challenging diversions for him so he would feel important and useful while not meddling in the day-to-day running of what was clearly now her realm.

"I've waited too long for this," she had muttered as she sipped on the citrus infusion she insisted on taking every morning. A lot of the other women had allowed themselves to run to fat in the harem, especially those who had never caught the attention of Joreb. Joreb quickly sorted out his favorites from those he was not interested in, and although these estranged women remained pampered and primped, they were largely ignored. With no future other than slothfulness available to them, it wasn't long before their lives diminished into a continuing indulgence of food and mind-altering confections to dull their frustrations.

Herezah had not had cause for the same frustrations and thus she took great care with her body's appearancea"no, her frustrations were born of ambition and impatience. Now that she had in her grasp what she had dreamed of for so long, she was not going to let it goa"not even to the son who had made it all possible. Boaz was young; he had plenty of wild oats to sow and energy to burn in playful pursuits. He did not need the serious burden of running a realm she could so easily handle for him. She was going to make everything as easy as possible for him, and she reasoned that this new era in their lives was going to give them a wonderfully new and close relationship.

After her tea she rose, her mind still battling with the question of Ana and what to do with her. She decided that the best way to handle the child was to put her own claim on her. Mark her as the Valide's own slave. Then she could break and control the girl before she became available for the Zar's needs. Herezah smiled, pleased with herself. How clever that she might turn the new odalisque into one of her own agents, use her to plant ideas into Boaz's mind, control him fully. Especially if he chose Ana to be one of his wives.

Before she could take her morning exercise, the news had come, delivered personally by Salmeo. When he was announced she knew it had to be something of importance. She had him admitted but did not offer him a seata"he was interrupting her morning routine, after all.

"Speak," she commanded, more than enjoying her new authority over the one who had inflicted humiliation upon her in years gone by.

"Valide," he began as she reached for her steaming cup of kerrosh, which she took in its most bitter form. "One of the new acquisitions has escaped the harem during the night."

If he thought the Zar's mother might overreact, he was very wrong. In wonder, he watched Herezah's unveiled face display no outward signs of anger. She paused in her sipping of the kerrosh and then delicately reached her long arm to place the porcelain cup back on the tray. Herezah, for all her failings, was a naturally elegant woman. It was little wonder that Joreb, a lover of the finer things in life, had fallen for her dark beauty and exceptional grace.

"Ana?" she asked, almost as though she were expecting the news.

He nodded. His scar appeared all the more livid for the shame he was obviously feeling.

She spoke with chilling softness. "How did this happen, Salmeo? I belong to the harem, I have been one of its odalisques, and I know that what you're suggesting is impossible."

"Nothing's impossible, Valide," he tried, but at her instantly furious glare changed his mind, nodded, and sighed. "Normally, yes. We are, however, not dealing with a normal child, if you'll permit my saying so, Valide."

"How so?"

"She has intelligence and defiance enough for ten odalisques."

Herezah smirked. "I think you're right. How did she escape?" She was intrigued that any girl could find a way out of the harem; almost jealous, in fact.

This was not difficult to answer but it was horribly embarrassing for Salmeo. He tried to hold the Valide's keen gaze but soon found himself looking elsewhere. "After completing her Test of Virtue, she was left alone momentarily to gather her composure and reclothe herself. She took that opportunity to steal some garments and blacken her face. We discovered that a jamoosh was missing and the grate of the brazier had fallen to the ground. She used ash on herself, apparently." He shrugged. "There were black smudges on my walls and she had throwna" He hesitated.

"Thrown what?"

"She had smashed the clay pot of ferris and thrown it into the burning embers."

Herezah gave a gurgle of laughter. "Oh, such spirit. She hates you early, Salmeo."

"I am used to it, Valide," he said softly, and this time successfully fought the urge to look away from her sardonic smile. "She loosened some fretwork and escaped through my courtyard."

"Why wasn't I informed immediately?"

Again he hesitated. "I thought she would be found more swiftly, Valide."

"It looks like you thought wrong, Grand Master Eunuch. So what do we do now?"

"I sent a message to the Spur at dawn."

Her eyes flashed at his name, "Why, because she was his bargain?"

"Because he argued for her release. I think the Spur is fond of the child. He looked upset when she relinquished her freedom for the slave's life." Salmeo watched with pleasure as Herezah's lips thinned. Oh yes, he thought, you don't like the idea that Spur Lazar may feel affection for someone else.

But the Valide did not rise to the bait. "I saw it too. What does it mean, Salmeo?"

The large man moved his huge shoulders in a shrug. "I cannot tell," he lied. "The Spur has always been one so devoid of connection to others that I can't reason this link."

"Can you not?" He shook his great head. "I would say that our young odalisque has touched the man of ice, warmed his frozen heart."

His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. He'd suspected as much but considered it politic, at this point, to let the Valide feel as though she might know more than he did. "I thought it to be simply a brotherly fondness. Are you suggesting it's more serious?"

"Call it female intuition. He argued too passionately not to be involved with the girl somehow."

Salmeo was impressed with Herezah's composure, for it obviously grieved her to admit this. "You are perceptive, Valide."

She dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. "So what of the child?"

"She will be found within the hour, I promise. She could not get far at nighta"and she was barefoot, I believe. She is too recognizable and, I suspect, tired, hungry, and already regretting her wild adventure."

Herezah didn't necessarily agree with his summary but she understood that he needed to save face. "You must ensure word of this does not get about. We must not allow our girls to have any notion that escape will be tolerated. It was not even dared in my time," she said, quietly irritated that she had not thought to try.

"No one will know, Valide."

"She must be punished, of course."

"I agree," he said, again relieved. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead," Herezah said, knowing how his cruel mind worked. She stood and took her half-finished cup of kerrosh to the window.

"She should be flogged."

Herezah did not turn from the idyllic view of gardens stretching before her. "And break that beautiful skin?"

"It will heal. She's young enough that it won't scar if we use an expert. Anything less would be a compromise, I fear, Valide."

Now she laughed, deep and sly. "A compromise to your position, you mean. I understand, Salmeo, better than you know. But it's fine with me. I want a physician's opinion before it's done, though. She must not mark." She turned now to emphasize her instructions and fixed him with a stare.

He nodded. "As you command, Valide."

"And her virginity?"

"Intact."

"As we knew. Did she weep when you did it?"

"Not even a tear," he confirmed, recalling only too well how Herezah had cried hysterically when it had been her turn many years before. He watched disappointment dance briefly across her face but she masked her expression in a moment. Good, he thought, I can still hurt you.

"Find her!" she ordered.

LAZAR AND JUMO had started from the palace and agreed to work out in a broad sweeping arca"Jumo heading away from the city and Lazar moving deeper into it, toward the bazaar.

"We were there together, she might head for the familiar spots I showed her."

Jumo had nodded agreement. "I shall meet you by the People's Fountain by fourth bell."

They now stood worriedly side by side, having met as planned but with no good news.

"Where would a child go?" Jumo wondered aloud. "With her looks she would be an instant target."

This comment served only to frustrate Lazar further and he punched the marble of the fountain. It hurt, but rather than showing it, he plunged his aching fist into the pocket of the long white formal jamoosh he wore.

And felt the warmth of gold. "Iridor," he muttered.

Jumo turned in query. "Master?"

"Iridor! Of course." Lazar began hurrying away. "Keep looking through the bazaar," he called back. "I have a hunch where she might be."

Lazar suddenly felt sure he knew where Ana would have ended up. He arrived at the tiny temple, out of breath, having woven his way at full tilt through the harbor streets and out onto the peninsula. To compose himself, he leaned against the white wall of the holy building and sucked in several long, deep breaths before he bent and entered the hallowed space.

It was cool and dark as usual. But this time Zafira did not pray alone. Kneeling next to her was another, engulfed in a black jamoosh that was far too big for her slender frame.

"Ana," he said, his voice sounding loud and coarse in the silence.

Zafira opened her eyes from prayer and turned, putting a finger to her lips. Then she stood, awkwardly, grimacing from old aches in her back and knees before she approached Lazar, a look of understanding on her kindly face. "As you see, another visitor," she whispered. "Troubled, like you."

"They'll be turning Percheron upside down for her, Zafira."

The priestess nodded. "Give her a few more moments. She is as taken by the sculpture of Lyana as you are."

Lazar grimaced at the delay, but nodded.

"How did you know to find her here?" Zafira asked softly.