The huge man's flabby face wobbled with the effort of holding back his own rage. "No, my Zar. I just thought it right to caution againsta""

Boaz laced his next words with contempt. "Don't think, Salmeo. When the command comes from me, just do it! And don't ever caution me again. Is that clear?"

Salmeo bowed to hide his own disgust at being spoken to publicly in this manner. "Yes, Majesty," he managed.

Tariq stifled a sneer.

"I'M AFRAID I CAN'T give you the treat I promised, Odalisque Ana," Elza said, returning to her after taking a whispered message at the door. "We have to bathe you quickly in a tub."

"Why?"

"The Zar wishes to see you."

"Boaz?"

The slave looked at her, aghast. "Hush, child! Never speak his name unless he alone gives you the authority. Haven't they taught you anything yet?"

"I've spent only a few hours in the palace. How could they?" Ana replied tartly.

"You'll do well to curb that defiance in your tone, Miss Ana. Take my advice, for your haughtiness will not be tolerated. Rule number one," the slave began, leading Ana to a small chamber filled with single cubicles, "is you never speak the Zar's name. He is Your Majesty, High One, Mightiest of the Mighties, or similar."

Ana nodded, listening carefully and remembering Pez's warning that she must blend into the community of the harem or risk Salmeo's attention.

"Rule number two: bathing daily is part of harem life." Elza pointed toward the cubicle. "We use these rarely. From now on, you will use the main pavilion and spend the entire morning there on your grooming."

"What a waste," Ana murmured.

Elza smirked. "You'd better start getting used to boredom, Miss Ana, for you'll spend your whole life getting ready and hoping the Zar will wish to share even a few words with you."

"Looks like I haven't very long to wait, doesn't it?" Ana replied wearily.

"Oh, child, you are in for a very rough time of it if you keep that attitude much longer." Elza sighed. "Now hurry, slip out of your robe. I have to get you washed and dressed."

So much for a rest, Ana thought, dreading what the Zar would want with her after his public admonishment.

JUMO INSISTED ON CARRYING Lazar on his back again. Their host led the way surprisingly briskly up broad, mercifully shallow steps cut into the cliff face. Zafira climbed slowly next to Jumo.

"What are we doing here?" Jumo muttered to her.

"I don't know but it feels right, don't you think? It's too much of a coincidence that she came along just when we needed help. She said she'd answer our questionsa"we must be patient."

At the top of their climb they saw a cottage set back from the cliff edge, a small copse encircling its back.

"Here we are," the old woman said. "The lepers are housed a long way from here. There are only six of them left anyway, and I rarely see them. Jumo, can you manage?"

"Yes, let's just hurry. He's struggling to breathe."

Once inside, the stranger took command again. "Lay him on the pallet and light some candles from that lantern, Jumo. We shall be busy and the sun will set without us knowing. Zafira, perhaps you would make us some quishtar?" The priestess, happy to busy her hands, immediately set to finding the utensils and materials she needed.

Their host returned her attention to the man on the bed and his anxious friend, who was placing lit candles nearby. "Are you afraid of snakes, Jumo?" Lazar's friend shook his head absently, focused on the gray pallor of Lazar's complexion and the rapid heaving of his chest. "Good. In the cellar is a heavy-lidded jar. Inside are two snakes. The yellow-bellied one is harmless. The one with the striped back is deadly. He is the one we need. Have you handled a snake before?"

"I have," Jumo replied. "What does this have to do with Lazar?"

"Drezden is made from the poison of the drezia snake. It's favored by assassins who want to be gone well before the death occurs. If not given orally, drezia venom is deadly but slow. On its passage to the heart, it simply numbs. Once it reaches the heart, however, it paralyzes and death is instant."

"You want me to milk the snake?" Jumo asked, deliberately rushing her.

"Precisely," she replied. "Here, straight into this," she added, pointing Jumo to a small porcelain cup.

And at last he heard through her mild manner to the concern she had worked to disguise. "Be careful," she cautioned. "If the snake bites you, I have no medicine that will stop the poison killing you."

"Very reassuring," he muttered as he began to descend and the stranger returned her attention to Lazar.

"His breathing sounds very shallow," Zafira noted.

"Not a good sign," their host replied. "But that's to be expected. My name is Ellyana. Forgive my poor manners."

Zafira nodded, accepting the woman's unnecessary apology. "Shall I take off the linens?" she asked, pointing.

"Yes, please." They heard a small scuffle from below. "Jumo?" Ellyana called, an element of fright in her tone.

"I'm all right," came a muffled voice. The two women glanced at each other with relief.

Jumo emerged a few moments later with a clear liquida"barely enough to cover the bottom of the cup.

"It is enough," Ellyana said, answering his look of worry. "Now, let me explain. I promise to be brief. I have seen this sort of poisoning before and delivered in a similar style. It can be beaten. However, if Lazar survives, you need to know that he will never be whole again." She paused, and when neither listener spoke she continued: "Jumo, your master will always need the poison of the drezia snake close. He and it are now bound together, forever, like loversa"even though they are enemies."

"What occurs?" Zafira asked for Jumo's sake; the man was so stunned by the news that he seemed unable to speak for himself.

"There will be no warning when it afflicts him again. A trembling, wasting fever will strike. Very debilitating. The only temporary cure is more of the venom in its purest form and in tiny quantitiesafar less than we have here. Right now, though, we have to flush the poison from his body. We need lots of quishtar and my own brew. There will be paina"severea"and you will both need to be strong for him. He is going to suffer badly if he is to recover."

"Will he recover?" Jumo dared to ask.

"If I'm franka"and I fear I should be with youa"then I would say he will most likely perish. Too much time has elapsed, and his wounds are frighteningly dangerous. The poison aside, those injuries alone have the capacity to kill him," Ellyana said gently. "We will try but I think you must be prepared to lose him, Jumo."

"He is strong," Jumo countered.

Her tone was even more tender when she risked closing a hand over his arm. "I know. And you will be equally strong for your friend."

Jumo ferociously blinked back the tears rushing to betray him. "What about his wounds?"

"We will need to clean them thoroughly and then sew the deeper ones to close them against infection. For the rest we shall have to rely on this salve," she said, indicating a stone jar. "Could someone help me with that, it's very heavy." Jumo obliged, grimacing at its weight, and slid off the lid at her nod. "It smells bad but it is a wonder ointment," she continued. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind smearing that onto some of the less vicious wounds right now. It will seal them from the air, from disease."

"They're all vicious," Jumo said, shaking his head at the state of Lazar's body.

"Zafira, do you have steady hands?"

"I suppose, why?"

"You will need to do the sewing, my sister." Ellyana held up her own shaking fingers. "Part of growing old," and her sad smile was only for the priestess, who understood the afflictions of age.

Zafira looked worried. "I'm not sure I cana""

"I will help you," Ellyana assured, not giving the priestess another chance to protest. "We must all wash our fingers with this soap paste," she warned, pointing to a pot. "It will burn your skin but it will ensure your fingers are very clean and we will not infect Lazar's wounds as we treat them." At their nods, she continued briskly, "Right, let's clean our hands and then we begin. We have a long night ahead of us."

As if in response, Lazar groaned weakly.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you can't find any trace of him?" Boaz demanded.

Tariq's lips pursed, evidencing his frustration at having failed the Zar in the first task assigned him. "Forgive me, High One. I have sent runners to the Spur's house, to the barracks, even to the city temples, where I thought he might be laid out by the priests for medical help. No one has any information to give us."

"Well, someone must have seen him depart. Where is Shaz? Perhaps he has some notion."

"No, High One. Apparently Shaz and his assistant handed the Spur's body to that fellow called Jumo, Lazar's second, and the man departed the Courtyard of Sorrows. One would assume he'd take him straight back to the Spur's house for care from a physic, but apparently not."

Boaz frowned. "Send out word into the city. Someone must have seen something. I want information from you and your spies by the end of the day, Vizier."

Tariq bowed, wondering at Boaz's new confidence. It was as though the boy had aged five years since the afternoon flogging. The Vizier felt he was being ordered around like a slave by a lad whose voice had barely broken. "Immediately, Your Majesty," he said through clenched teeth hidden by his beard. A soft gong sounded, saving him further conversation with the young Zar.

"Go about your business, Vizier. I'll await your news," Boaz said wearily. "Enter!" he called over Tariq's head. Bin emerged into the chamber as the Vizier departed. "Yes?"

"High One, the Grand Master Eunuch and Odalisque Ana await you in the antechamber of your study."

"Ah, good. I wish to change. Send in my dresser."

"Of course. I will bring your visitor into the study when you are ready."

Boaz returned to his bedchamber and within moments the servant arrived. After changing into loose linens, he asked the man to order refreshments. "Some frozen sherbets and a flask of chirro," he suggested. The man bowed and departed.

Boaz stepped from his chamber into a small reception room that led to his private study, which was smaller and more intimate than the one in which he normally received visitors. He was paying Ana a high compliment in permitting her to visit him in this room. He knew he was risking the wrath of all those vying for his loyalty, a fact that pleased him greatly. Once inside, he took a deep breath before reaching to pull a cord, sounding a bell outside.

The double doors were opened and Bin ushered in a slim, veiled figure dwarfed by a sour-looking Grand Master Eunuch. Boaz realized he was actually holding his breath in anticipation. He let it out slowly as the oddly matched pair stepped into the middle of the room, and Ana, well prepared by Salmeo, immediately sank to her knees and then prostrated herself as was required. Bin closed the doors.

Salmeo took the lead. "Your High One, this is most unusual, and breaks harem protocol. The girls are not yet acquainted with all of the rules and we haven't even enjoyed the ceremony of the handkerchiefs." Although the words were polite enough, the tone was acid. "Perhaps I should remain here with the odalisque Ana whilsta""

"That will not be necessary." Boaz was going to add thank you and stopped himself at the last instant. It was time he got used to giving commands. "I am changing some rules, Salmeo." He did not allow Salmeo a chance to suggest caution at such an idea. "The first is that it is to be my choice as to when and how I meet with the members of the harem. I think the handkerchief ceremony is romantic but trite for these modern days. If I'm old enough to rule, I'm certainly old enough to be in the company of a female my own age, in the middle of the afternoon and without a chaperone, and certainly without all the trials and innuendo that had to be plowed through in my father's day."

Salmeo's feelings, normally so well disguised, were plainly written over his aghast expression. "But, Your High One, this totally contravenes the way of the harem, I musta""

Boaz feigned dismay. "I trust you're not about to caution me?" he said, amazed that his voice was so steady, the tone so condescending. It felt suddenly wonderful to wield a power that could have a man such as this gabbling before him. He pressed his point. "I'm not bedding her, Grand Master Eunucha"not yeta"I simply wish to talk with her. You're very welcome to remain whilst we speak." He paused only briefly to take a breath before adding: "So long as you remain outside. I desire a private conversation with Odalisque Ana."

The huge black man again opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He glared into the Zar's simmering expression. He could not win this one but he knew who could. "I shall do that, High One," he answered as humbly as he could manage. Then he bowed and left, hurrying to seek an audience with the Valide.

Boaz looked at the figure on the ground. "Please, Odalisque Ana, rise." When she was standing before him, her eyes still cast to the floor as presumably she'd been instructed, he gestured toward some comfortable divans by the grand windows. "Join me."

"I thought you were angry with me, Zar Boaz."

He sighed softly. "I am. Lazar has suffered pointlessly today because of your headstrong ways. But I made my rebuke public for entirely different reasons than you think. I think the Spur will have understood, so be assured I haven't asked you here to make you suffer more. I'm sure you're suffering enough."

She bit her lip hard in order to force back the tears. "I have never felt more lost than I do right nowaor bereft. If I could change what happened today, if I could take back my actions, I hope you know I would, Zar Boaz."

Sincerely done, he thought approvingly. Enough chastizing; she feels guilty enough. "You'll have to forgive the decor," he said brightly. "This is my father's choice. I haven't the heart to change it, even though the Valide suggests I impose my own style."

"You loved your father." She spoke from behind the gauzy pale blue veil, eyes still downcast.

"You may remove your veil, Odalisque Ana. It is not required in my private presence, and I allow you to look upon me." She raised her eyes and he was pleased to see the directness with which she held his gaze now that permission was hers. She took off her veil slowly, careful not to disturb her hair, which had been brushed carefully with a hundred strokes, Elza counting each and smearing an oil into it to make it shine even more brightly. As her face was revealed to him once again, and this time at such close range, Boaz felt his breath catch. He had thought her beautiful from a distance, but he now discovered she was infinitely more fetching this close. Her skin was smooth and unblemished but slightly burnished from the sun. He remembered how his father's women had worked hard to keep their complexions pale but on Ana this golden coloring was like a glow from within.

"I did love my father very much. I miss him," he said in response to her earlier comment.

"I love my father too, Zar Boaz. I miss him as deeply as you miss yours."

"Please, sit down with me." He watched her glide to the divans and carefully seat herself opposite him. "Where is your family from?"

"West. The foothills. My father is a goatherd."

"Is he proud that his daughter now lives in the palace? It must be a far cry from what he is used to." He had considered this a fair question, one designed to encourage her to talk about the family she had left behind. He was not ready for the quiet rebuke.

"My father is a simple man, Your High One. He has no concept of palace life. He also had no say in my being brought here. If it were left to him, I think he would be proud for me to have remained as a goatherd's daughter." She lifted her chin, and as her eyes met his he instantly recognized a kindred spirit: both of them too young to be on the paths they were on, both wishing they could be pursuing the lives they wanted rather than the ones they were being forced to follow.

"Forgive me, Ana, I meant no insult."

"None taken, Majesty," she returned smoothly.

Boaz was already fascinated by her, did not know what to say next. He was relieved by a gentle knock at the door. "Come," he answered. A servant entered bearing a tray. "Ah, I took the liberty of organizing some refreshments," he explained as the man laid out the food and wine. "I hope you won't say you don't eat sherbet."

And Boaz heard the girl in her for the first time "Oh no, I do," she gushed, "I tasted it in the bazaar."

Boaz grinned. "I heard about your adventure. It's why I wanted to meet you."

Instantly her green eyes, brilliant as gems, clouded. "I've seen the error of my ways, High One."

"Ana, I wasn't going to reprimand you. I was going to congratulate you." She held his gaze, unsure of what she'd heard. "Zarab knows I yearn for some freedom myself."

"But surely you have that as Zar?"

"I think I am as much a prisoner of my own palace as you are. I wish I had your reckless spirit. Truly. It must have taken real courage to spit in the eye of Salmeo. I know I shouldn't say this to you but I felt elated when I heard." He all but whispered his words for fear the fat man could hear through the walls.

"Do you mean that?" Her eyes glittered again.

He touched his hand to his forehead and then his lips in the region's manner of communicating that he spoke the truth. "Our secret, though."

It was her first reason to smile since she had hugged Jumo the previous daya"and at the memory, her smile was wiped from her face. "You were there this morning," she said flatly. "I can't derive any pleasure from my couragea"as you call ita"after what the Spur went through on my behalf."

"He must think very highly of you, Ana."

He watched her face darken, tried to imagine what thoughts she hid. "I think he feels responsible because it was he who bartered for me."

Boaz heard a hesitation in her voice, and wondered why. "He took no gold in exchange for you, I hear."