"I am Pez. I trust you because of Lazar. He trusts no one, of course, but he seems to care about you."

She looked suddenly awkward, shy. "Did he send you?"

"Yes."

"Why is it dangerous for anyone to know about you, Pez?"

"Because it is. You have to trust me but you must trust no one else in the harem. None of its odalisques, none of the eunuchs or other slaves. Do you understand?"

She nodded, wide-eyed. "You'd better do another twirl around the room."

"Has anyone said anything to you since you were returned to the harem?" he asked as he returned to her.

Ana sighed. "They've told me nothing. The eunuchs who wear red asked me to wait here. Where are the other girls?"

"I met some of them in the halls. They were facing their Test of Virtue." He watched her defiant expression falter and understood she must have already undergone the humiliating ritual.

"The Grand Master Eunuch is detestable."

"That's his intention. He wants you to loathe him. It makes him more powerful."

"He wants to frighten me."

"And did he, Ana?"

She shook her head, defiant once again. "No, I just hate him, that's all."

"In truth, you would all have had to face the unpleasant test anyway."

"Except outside the harem, it would be done by a trusted woman, and only when I was facing marriage. Not done by some fat, sweaty eunuch who has the desire but nothing save his groping finger to satisfy it."

Pez remained silent, sympathizing with the horror of Ana's memories.

"I don't like men," she suddenly said.

"Don't you like me?"

"Except you," and as she touched his arm, Pez felt a thrill of something pass through him, something that made him feel suddenly safe.

"And Jumo. Surely you liked him?" he continued.

"Oh, I do. Jumo is lovely."

"Lazar? I admit he's hard to like. In facta""

"Yes," she cut across his words. "I do like Lazaravery much. I'm just not sure if he likes me."

"Take no notice of his brooding silences. If Lazar speaks to you, he likes you. He usually kills those he doesn't like and those he can't kill he simply ignores."

She exploded into laughter and Pez smiled at the sweet sound.

"You have a wonderful laugh, Ana. It's like birdsong and sunshine, a sea breeze and the scent of peryse, all thrown into one delicious sound."

"How can a laugh have a smell, Pez?" she said, smiling, liking his imagery. She loved the delicate peryse blooms that only flowered briefly in spring for a short burst of spectacular color and their soft yet somehow intense fragrance.

"Well, your laugh conjures an image of a field of peryse flowers."

"Everyone else is right, you know; you're definitely mad."

He leaped from the seat and began to dance again.

"Do you know what they're going to do with me, Pez?" Ana asked, suddenly sounding nervous.

And he too became serious. "They will need to punish you, Ana, as a warning to the other girls. To my knowledge no one has ever escaped the harem before, so they'll use you as an example."

"They'll hurt me, then?"

Pez looked into her trusting face and knew he couldn't lie to her. "Not to the point of marking you. Something brief and scary for the others but transient, I imagine. Lazar asked me to tell you to be of stout heart. He will see what can be done."

"He can't save me this."

"From what I hear he's already stuck his neck out for you, child. He won't stop now. Lazar is one of the most intense people I know and the most driven. I imagine when he loves, he loves hard and in a single-minded fashion."

Ana dropped her gaze, blushing. "Are you saying he loves me?"

"I'm saying he will never allow someone he considers a friend to suffer if he can help it. Not very much stands in his way if he wants something."

"Except Herezah," she said, remembering the previous night and the way the Valide's eyes had so often glanced toward him.

"Be careful, Ana. The Valide is more dangerous than you can imagine. You must ingratiate yourself with hera"far more than with Salmeo even."

She didn't reply but nodded her understanding.

"And now I must go," he said.

"Must you? Can't you keep me company?"

"I want to check on Kett."

"The slave boy?"

"Yes."

"Can I come?"

"No, you musta"" Pez heard footsteps and he immediately began cartwheeling, just as three Elim arrived.

"Miss Ana?" one said politely, bowing slightly.

"Yes?"

"We have come to fetch you."

"Anything to save me from this fool," Ana replied haughtily, pointing to the spinning dwarf.

Pez felt his heart lurch for the girl. She sounded so brave and yet he knew she must be terrified. "Where does little Ana go?" he sang at the men, darting in front of them and pulling their sashes.

"Not now, Pez," the leader said.

"I must know or I shall start to screech." He'd done this once before; the man must have remembered, because he instantly capitulated. "She is to be flogged. Valide's orders."

Flogged? In her shock Ana could only repeat the word soundlessly.

"Then take her away," Pez managed to sing, though his heart was racing with fear, before he twirled out of the room and hit the hallway running at full tilt.

He had to find Lazar.

"IT'S PEZ, MASTER. He says it's urgent."

"Bring him in." Lazar turned to step inside from the balcony and saw that Pez was already present. The dwarf offered no salutation. "What?" Lazar asked, his gut twisting with worry.

"They're going to flog her," Pez said, still breathing deeply from his run.

Lazar looked to his manservant. "A horse, Jumo." The dark man turned and hurried from the room. "How much time have I got?"

"Little. The Elim fetched her whilst she and I were talking."

"Knowing Herezah, she'll want to turn it into a spectacle."

"In which case you can still make it before they begin."

Lazar crossed the vast chamber in six strong strides. "Will you be all right?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to his friend.

"Don't worry about me. Just get to Ana and think of something quickly, Lazar."

Pain mingled with frustration on the Spur's face. "That's just it, I have no idea how to save her. I've been racking my mind all morning." His voice sounded hollow.

"Get a message to Boaz," Pez said. "You could claim the Right of Protectorship!"

His words turned the agony on the Spur's hardened features to dawning realization and relief. "Thank you, Pez," he said simply.

Pez suspected that the Spur felt more for this young woman than he cared to admit, probably even to himself. The Right of Protectorship claimed no small sacrifice. The dwarf shook his head, for if he was truthful, there was something about Ana that compelled him too.

Jumo returned, disrupting his thoughts. "What's he planning? He wouldn't say."

"Right of Protectorship for Ana."

"May Zarab save us," Jumo said, touching hand to lip in a calling to the great god. He looked so fearful it sent a fresh wave of guilt through Pez for having even suggested the idea. "Herezah will love it."

Pez nodded in agreement.

"Come, let me take you back in the cart," Jumo offered. "Lazar's going to need all the help we can give."

LAZAR REACHED THE PALACE in minutes, leaping from his horse and throwing the reins at his men. Patrolling soldiers saluted, fist on head then heart, but he didn't acknowledge any of them.

Once inside, he ran directly to the office of the Vizier. Tariq kept a suite of rooms at the palace for official duties. It was a stroke of luck that the bejeweled peacock of a man happened to step out of his chamber the moment Lazar barged into the suite.

"Tariq, I must speak with you urgently," he bellowed.

"My, my, Spur. This is most unusual. Can we not set an appointment?" The Vizier's oily manner never failed to stoke the embers of anger that always glowed within Lazar.

"Do you think I would come to you like this if the matter could wait?" With effort, Lazar controlled his wratha"it would get him nowhere. "I would appreciate your help, Vizier," he added contritely.

"I see. Come in." Tariq's tone was bland and disinterested but he was clearly relishing this show of unnatural humility in the Spur.

Lazar stalked past him and closed the door of the ostentatiously appointed chamber he rarely found himself in. He remembered now why he hated to speak with the Vizier in his rooms. The man's choice in furnishings and decor was incredibly vulgar. Everything about him was contrived. And besides, he knew how much Tariq disliked him. It had never bothered him but it made their dealings tense. When Joreb was in power, it had been easier for Lazar to work with virtual autonomy, but with Herezah now pulling Boaz's strings, that would be impossible. Lazar suddenly felt revolted by the notion that he was now somehow beholden to this fool of a Vizier who had the ear of the Valide and thus of the Zar. He forced himself to be polite. "I must speak with the Zar."

Tariq made an irritating noise of condescension, as if scolding a child. "That won't be possible, Spur. He is taking some quiet time for reflection and study."

"I wouldn't make such a request if it were not important."

"So you say. But so is the enrichment of the Zar's knowledge. Could anything be more important in fact, hmm?" the Vizier asked, jewels twinkling in the shaft of sunlight in which he had deliberately chosen to position himself.

Lazar knew it was pointless to argue. "Then will you get a note to him on my behalf?" he said, adding: "Please, Tariq."

The man quivered slightly at the humble tone in Lazar's voice. "I shall do my best." He pointed to a small table in the corner. "There is a tablet of paper; use what you will and ink is in that pota"I shall order a runner."

"Thank you." Lazar wasted not another moment in scribbling out a rushed message, folding it, and placing it into the small silken purse the Vizier indicated. "One more thing. I now need to speak with the Valide Zara." He saw the Vizier open his mouth to say the obvious but Lazar cut him off. "Don't tell me this is impossible. I am the Spur of Percheron and require access to the most senior person in the palace. If I am not able to speak with the Zar personally, my rank demands I be given an audience with the Valide." And then he added: "I would not ask if it was not critical."

"Spur, this is not the way wea"" Interrupted by a soft knock at the door, the Vizier snapped, "Enter."

A servant stepped into the room, bowing deeply. Lazar was relieved to see the silken purse put into the man's hands. Now that the message was on its way, he could be more forceful.

"Hurry please," he added to Tariq's instructions, and the servant nodded and left promptly. Turning back to the Vizier, who was no longer in sunlight, Lazar realized the man looked decidedly gaunt and old. It was hard to tell his age because he hid behind so much decoration, but perhaps for the first time, Lazar realized that this was Tariq's last chance to stamp his mark on Percheron; he would not survive another shift in power. This was the moment to play on the man's fears. "I know this is not usual. But the circumstances are not usual either. I've told you it's important, and if you ignore this request, Tariq, then I will be forced to use all my status to make this go badly for you."

"How dare you threaten me!" The Vizier fairly shook with indignation.

"That is not my intention. I'm trying to impress upon you how important it is that I see the Valide."

"And you will not share this important matter with me?"

"Tariq, you are more than welcome to join the meeting, but if you don't organize an immediate audience, I will make my own way to the Valide's suite right now."

It was an audacious threat; Lazar had no permission to enter the harem. The Vizier looked horrified by the suggestion but he knew that challenging the Spur to defy palace rules would only ensure that they were broken. The man was a law unto himself. May Zarab rot his soul! And what if his news really was important? The Valide would be furious if she found out he hadn't allowed it to be passed on. Thinking of the Valide made Tariq frown. Unless he ingratiated himself fully with her, he would remain her puppet. Or she might choose to crush him and leave him nothing, perhaps not even his life. And she a slave! He himself came from a fine family with a proud lineage. This woman had been bought in a slave market where a representative of the harem had dug his finger into her mouth and checked her teeth while she stood naked and humiliated. Now she ruled the country!

Wasn't getting rid of powerful women the way of Maliz? Tariq's frown turned into a smile as he thought of the demon, not even realizing how easily its name slipped into his mind. Oh yes, Maliz's mission had been to undermine and destroy the power of the priestesses, to prevent Percheron from worshipping the Goddess, and to replace her with gods, like Maliz's own master, Zarab, upon whom everyone now called.

Maliz's whispered promises made Tariq feel as though he too could be like Lazar, showing disdain for rules, always assuming he knew best. And what if he could look younger and more handsome too? Perhaps Maliz could help rid Tariq of Herezah as well and he could take her role as chief adviser to the Zar. The demon was still waiting for his answer. In truth, Tariq was terrified. If he was honest with himself, he admitted that he still had not come to terms with the fact that the demon had sought him out, that something he had always considered only folklore was suddenly so real.