He shrugged. "I didn't. I've just looked everywhere else." His stomach turned at the lie, but he did not want to bring Iridor into the conversation again, knowing how it had affected the priestess the last time he had done so.

"She's been here since the early hours."

"How did she find it?"

"I thought you might have told her about the temple." At Lazar's negative head shake, the priestess smiled. "Well, she told me all about you and how kind you've been."

"Kind?" he mocked. "I sold her to the harem."

"For which she forgives you, Lazar."

He grunted. He did not want forgiveness; he wanted to feel a sense of control again. "I have to return her."

"Will they punish her?"

Though Lazar could not bring himself to reply, his silence told the priestess what she needed to know.

"You must protect her from this," she urged, clasping the hard muscle of his arm.

"I have done all I can," he replied, his anguish obvious.

"There must be still more you can do."

He shook his head. Everything was spiraling out of control. "I am honor-bound to the Zar and by my position in Percheron. I must take her back to the palace," he replied, his voice hard. "I'm sorry, Zafira."

"So am I," she said, her voice just as cold.

And it was with those words that Lazar decided he would follow through on his formerly vague plansa"plans he had made only during this last restless night. He would leave Percheron. He walked over to Ana, lifting her into his arms. She permitted him to do so without a struggle but her eyes were filled with a sorrow that broke his heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I know." He wanted to kiss her golden hair and tell her he would make everything right again. Instead he stalked out of the temple with her. He did not look back at Zafira.

The priestess's words rang in his ears. She had insisted he could do more. Could he? What?

"Take me away, Lazar," Ana moaned as he set her down.

His jaw ached from the way he was grinding it. "Ana, my duty is to the Crown of Percheron." For lack of anything remotely comforting to say, he quoted an old Percherese military saying: "A man without honor is a man lost."

Ana gave a wan smile. "My uncle said that once."

"Ana, Ia""

"Please. I know I have to go back, Lazar. It's all right. Ah, here comes Jumo," she said, effectively ending their awkward conversation.

"Ana." Jumo moved quickly to hug her, relief in his eyes when he stepped back. "You frightened us."

"I knew you would come and that Spur Lazar would find me," she answered. "Thank you, friend Jumo, it is precious that I can see you again." She kissed both of his weathered cheeks.

Jumo glanced at Lazar. "Do we have to take her back immediately?"

The Spur sighed. Wretched Jumo could always read his thoughts, and worse, Jumo got to hug Ana and be kissed by her. It annoyed him that he was himself so reluctant to show her even the slightest amount of the affection he felt. "No," he said, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "We can at least share a kerrosh together."

They walked with Ana between them to a shop they knew sold the best morning kerrosh in the bazaar.

"Find a spot," Lazar suggested to Jumo, having noticed the long line. "I'll get them," he added, knowing one of the advantages of being Spur was that a small crowd such as this would simply part at the sight of him. "Thank you," he uttered to those who bowed and moved aside to allow him through to the counter.

"Spur Lazar," the owner acknowledged, grinning to show the few teeth in his head. He expertly poured hot frothing milk from one long-handled jug into another. Years of practice meant he didn't even have to look at the motiona"it all happened through sense, touch, and skill. The milk turned a burned golden color once it was combined with the hot kerrosh, and the smell of it made Lazar's belly grumble. "Three, and give me that plate of skazza."

"Hungry today?" the shopkeeper said, still grinning as he reached to fill the heated glasses.

Soon Lazar was shouldering his way back with a tray of steaming kerrosh and pastries oozing with honey.

Ana's eyes lit. "Our mother never offered it with milk!"

"Paradise in a glass," Lazar said, trying hard to lighten the gloom that had settled around their tiny table.

Jumo raised his glass. "Recovery for the troubled soul." He looked hard at his friend.

"Ana," Lazar began gently, pushing the plate toward her. "Eat." She took one of the sticky pastries. "Did you run away because of Kett or because they scared you afterward?"

"Doesn't Salmeo deliberately scare everyone?" she asked.

Lazar felt her quip bite where he was hurting the most. What could he have been thinking to have given her over to that evil man? He watched her chew on the pastry, the syrup oozing over her lips, glazing them to a high shine.

She pulled a strand of hair from her face with sticky fingers. "Salmeo did an inspection of my body," Ana said matter-off-actly. "Inside my body."

Lazar slammed his cup down onto the table. He didn't flinch at the scald of the hot milky drink that spilled over his sunburned hand.

"I gave him no satisfaction. That eunuch will never break me, although I can tell that's his intention."

Lazar had no chance to reply, for a group of Salmeo's Elim pushed their way through the bazaar, their distinctive red jamooshes giving them away instantly.

"You have found her, my lord Spur," their leader said as all in the group bowed low.

"Only moments ago," Lazar answered.

"My lord Spur," the first repeated, "we have orders toa""

Lazar held up a hand. "Yes, I imagine you doaer?"

"Farz," the man answered.

"Thank you, Farz. I found the child cold and hungry. I am seeing to her well-being immediately and then, as requested by your master, I shall return her to the palace."

"May we not relieve you of this burden, Lord Spur?"

The man was persistent. Jumo could see the pulse at his master's temple throb again, a sure indication that the Spur had run out of patience. It never took very long.

Jumo spoke quickly into the thick silence. "No, Farz. You go on. Return to the palace and inform your master that Ana has been located. The Spur will bring the girl as soon as she has been nourished. You can see for yourself that she is appropriately covered. There is no insult to the harem."

The men looked among themselves, clearly concerned. They did not want to act without courtesy to the Spur and yet each knew Salmeo would cut his throat just as soon as reward him, depending on how each pleased him. It would not please him if they returned empty-handed.

Lazar understood. "Take a kerrosha"put it on my slate. Then you can escort us back to the palace if that is easier."

The men still looked uncertain.

"Come, let me order with you, I need another." Jumo stood, shooing the men deeper into the shop. He shot a wink at Lazar as he herded them toward the counter and saw his friend give a sad smile of thanks. Both knew Jumo had bought Lazar and Ana a few precious private minutes together.

Lazar turned back to Ana, who was staring solemnly into the dregs of her glass. "You must promise me that you'll never attempt anything like an escape again."

"I cannot promise you that, Lazar."

"Ana, I will not always be around to save you."

"You do not need to save me. Your responsibility ended when you presented me to the Valide and collected your gold."

He flinched; her words hurt. She shook her head, frowning to herself. "I'm sorry, Lazar," she said, contrite. "Zafira told you I'd forgiven you for selling me to the harem. And I have. Please ignore my accusations. I am tired."

"You've made me extend my commitment to you," he said carefully.

She eyed him gravely. "I don't recall how."

"By insisting I keep the owl statue close."

Recognition dawned. "And have you kept him close?" A soft smile played at her lips as he lifted the gold statue out of his pocket. "As beautiful as I remember him. Lovely Iridor."

Lazar sat back in his chair, once again astonished. How was it possible that a young goatherd's daughter of today would know about a long forgotten, ancient demigod? "Ana, I must know, where did you hear that name? Is your father religious? Is your family followers of Lyana?"

She shook her head gently. "Iridor is my friend," she said, a faraway look in her eye. "Take me back now, Lazar. I don't want anyone to get into further trouble on my account. It was wrong of me to leave as I did. I knew I could never escape, in truth. I was upset over Kett and then the Test of Virtue. I wasn't thinking clearly, and once I was out I felt compelled to find the templea" Her voice trailed off.

He had no time to ask how she knew the temple existed because he could see Jumo approaching, an expression of helplessness on his face. The Elim seemed to have knocked back their kerrosh so fast it had hardly touched the sides of their throats. They were taking no chances with their own lives. Though Lazar was frustrated, he understood. Salmeo could be hideously cruel. "Come then, Ana" was all he said, hating himself for not having an answer to this dilemma. She rose soundlessly as he pocketed the owl.

It was a silent troupe wending its way back to the palace and certain punishment.

15.

How is your arm this morning, my lion?" Herezah asked, reaching to run her hand through Boaz's hair, relieved when he didn't pull away from her touch. She had made a silent promise that she was going to find again that affection they had shared in his early childhooda"and Herezah knew it was up to her. Boaz would not give it willingly; he felt he had been deserted by her. He had learned to live without her and now she was going to have to turn that all around. She had begun this morning, coming to her son directly after her meeting with Salmeo.

"It hurts still but the new physician says I will heal fast because I am young and it was a clean break."

"I never quite understood the gibberish explanation that was passed from Pez. How did it happen again?"

Boaz shrugged, pretending to put a book back on the shelf so she would not see the lie in his eyes. "I fell awkwardly."

"Because I frightened you, my darling?"

"Yes. But I am stronger now."

"I know you are," Herezah cooed, "and I'm impressed." He was taller than her now. One more summer perhaps and he would be a man. "Boaz, it is vital that you show that same strength now to those around you."

"It's a little early to impress myself on the people, Mother. Father's only been dead a short while."

She heard the bitterness in his tone. "Nevertheless," she persisted, following him to the window. "Here, sit with me a moment." She took his hand and pulled him down beside her. "Precious Light, I don't mean the people of Percheron as sucha"not yet anyway. I mean that the people in this palace need to know you as a strong leader. It's their idle chatter that will pass through the city like wildfire. What they see they won't hesitate to gossip about, whether good or bad. But you must always remember, no one is your friend, Boaz, except me. I'm the only person who has your absolute best interests at heart."

Boaz tried not to show his disdain at her claim. "Pez is my friend."

"He's a fool and you would do well to be rid of him," she replied briskly. She softened her tone again. "I know you like the dwarf but you don't want people thinking your only companion is an idiot."

Boaz sighed. She was right, of course, but then she didn't know the truth about Pez. "I have many friends in the palace," he said.

"Oh? Name one for me."

"My tutora""

"Whom I've specifically appointed. No, Boaz, name me someone who is a true friend to you, who is not paid to attend you and owes you nothing."

He hated the way she always needed to be right, never allowed him credit or even the room to make the simplest of decisions. Here she was again all but humiliating him in trying to make her point. There was only one other true friend and it was a name he knew would stick in her craw, for even Boaz could see how his mother craved the attention of the Spur. "Lazar is my friend." He watched her pause, take a slow breath.

"How true." She forced a smile and took his hand between hers. "But apart from the Spur, who is not in the palace often enough to be relied upon, you have no real friends."

"What is your point, Mother? Does any Zar have any real friends? He is the ruler and by his very position is envied or despised or feared." Boaz removed his hand.

"That is my very point, son, which is why you must count on me and trust me. I am your flesh. I want what is best for you."

He sighed. "What is it you want of me, Mother?"

Herezah smiled, pleased. At last they could get down to business. "I want you to be more visible."

"To whom?"

"To those who count, those in authority who influence others."

He smirked. "The Vizier and the eunuch, you mean."

She ignored his barb. "You're going to have to attend dinners, meetings, a lot of tedious gatherings." She paused. "Some of these events are going to be harder than others."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, playing with the sash of her gown. "Your brothersa""

"Mother! We have been through this. I was injured!"