Pez had spent most of the night talking with the Zar, who was clearly too fretful to sleep. And when the young ruler had drifted off in the early hours, Pez had been too anxious to take any rest himself. The previous evening's intrusion had frightened hima"it still did. Pez had never experienced anything like it before, and as much as he tried to convince himself that the visitor had been somehow spying on the Zar, he could not shake off the notion that the intruder was watching him, not Boaz.

By sunrise, none of the sense of dread had dissipated; worse, Pez had convinced himself that the invisible watcher had meant only harm. From now on, he would have to be intensely careful about how he conducted himself. Conversations with Boaz could no longer be open and honest. He would have to use his Lore skills to set up a special ring of protection around the two of thema"and although that would prevent any spiritual being eavesdropping, it was also a clear sign of magic and it would sap his own strength.

Dawn shone brightly into Boaz's bedroom, threatening another hot day, and the Zar had risen immediately and taken a bath in his private chamber. After his first meal he began reading through some of the day's duties. But Pez could tell the Zar was restless, eager for news of Lazar and keen to think about something other than his council's advice regarding the city's homeless, the need to finance a new cistern, celebrations for the holy monthathe list seemed endless. Under the dwarf 's distracting influence Boaz was soon dispensing with Bin's notes and instead discussing his idea of a picnic for all the new odalisques. Pez thought it was a charming notion and nodded excitedly as the young Zar outlined his plans.

"You'll need at least eight barges, High One, to carry that number of people."

"At least they're all young and slim. If my father had done something like this, he'd have needed twice as many barges for the same number of women."

Pez muttered a gentle sound of admonishment. "Shame on you, Boaz," he said, though he grinned to soften the sting of the words. "The women couldn't help their size. They had nothing to do but indulge themselves."

"I know," Boaz admitted. "I understand that now and it won't happen in my harem. I'll see to it that the women have plenty to occupy themselves of a more physical nature."

"Ooh," Pez said, pulling a face of mock embarrassment.

Boaz looked momentarily mortified but composed himself quickly. "I didn't mean that," he replied archly. "I meanta"" He was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come," he called as the dwarf began rolling around the room wildly like a ball, yelling "kick me!" and bumping up against the Zar's foot.

"What is it, Bin?" Boaz asked, ignoring the tempting invitation.

"Forgive my interruption, Zar Boaz," the young man said, bowing low. "But you asked for any information about Spur Lazar to be delivered immediately."

"What news?" Boaz demanded. Even Pez rolled to a stop.

"A runner has been sent from the Spur's house, my Zar. His manservant has returned, we're told, and he's blind drunk."

"Jumo, you mean?"

The youngster nodded. "I think that is his name, yes, High One." He inclined his head, waiting for orders.

"Is the runner still here?"

"No, we have sent him away, my Zar. I presumed you would want to speak directly with the Spur's manservant."

"You presumed correctly. Send our own men from the palace to escort him back."

"Should we give him some time to sober up, Zar Boaz?"

"I want to see him as fast as they can bring him here. No excusesa"I don't care how drunk he is. And I mean our men, Bin, not the Spur's soldiers."

"I understand, Zar." Bin bowed once more before disappearing.

"Jumo drunk? It's hard to imagine," Pez commented.

"Perhaps he's celebrating Lazar's well-being," Boaz said hopefully.

"Then why didn't the runner mention the Spur's presence? No, this doesn't sound good." Pez felt a fresh sense of dread grip him.

Boaz gave a moue of disdain. "Don't put the jahash on it before we know the situation."

"I'm not cursing it. I'm telling you what I think."

"Then keep your baleful thoughts to yourself, Pez. I'm taking this as positive news. If anyone knows where Lazar is, Jumo will."

Pez kept his own counsel but the feeling of trepidation simply got stronger.

JUMO WAS BROUGHT to one of the Zar's receiving chambers. This particular room overlooked a vast courtyard with an ornamental pool and had no windows, only open archways, so that on hot days cooling breezes could blow through the less formal meeting room. Pez loved this chamber for its beautiful tiled ceiling of blue and white. The first time he had walked into the room he had instantly recognized the work of the Yaznuks, painters who had been captured and brought from the far east along with their exquisitely delicate work, most notably floral designs, that looked almost abstract from this distance. These days those designs, the paints they used, and all of their techniques were a closely guarded secret held within three families who, over history, had assumed the role of keepers of the art. They alone had royal sanction to produce the Yaznuk style and marked their work with a distinctive dragon emblem.

Pez was so mesmerized by the beauty of the room that he registered Jumo's arrival by the man's smell rather than by sight. A stench of liquor hit his nostrils and his attention was instantly dragged from the ceiling to the doorway where the spry man, normally so contained and correct, hung limply between the grip of two of Boaz's private guards. Pez was taken aback; as stunned, in fact, as Boaz looked, for this was more than the merry stupor of a man intoxicated. Though Pez managed to keep up his pretense of disinterest by circling the room and humming to himself, his focus was riveted on Lazar's manservant. Jumo appeared ashen, unfocused, and, if Pez was right, filled with grief.

"Let him go," Boaz commanded, slightly embarrassed for Jumo, and they all watched Lazar's closest companion in life slump and then fall hard on his knees. The guards grabbed for him to keep him upright.

"Is this how you found him?" the Zar asked, dismayed. He had always known Lazar's quiet, foreign friend to be entirely in control of himself.

"No, Great One. When we arrived at the Spur's house, he smelled as highly as he does now but curiously he seemed sober." The man hesitated briefly.

"So what is this? An act for my benefit?" Boaz demanded, irritated more by the look of uncertainty in the man's eyes than by any notion of guile on Jumo's part.

The head guard arrived. Bowing low, he ordered, "Briz, explain what has occurred."

Pez felt a fluttering about his heart and suddenly was breathless with tension. There was something dangerous about this situation, something not right. He watched the head guard pause, considering his words carefully before delivering them.

"O Mighty One, moments after my men arrived at the Spur's house, so did another messenger."

"Yes, anda?"

Pez felt himself freeze with anticipation. His humming grew softer and less manic; no one was paying him any mind anyway.

Briz was noticeably reluctant, tripping over his words. "That messenger brought the gravest of tidings, High One. This is Zafira, Majesty, of the Sea Temple." He nodded to a tiny figure who now stepped out from behind the guards. She tiptoed closer and bent herself in half to bow with great care to the young ruler.

"Zar Boaz," she whispered.

Pez tried to breathe in and found his lungs would not obey. If Zafira was here, everything had surely gone wrong.

Briz noted the Zar's rising frustration and hurried on. "When she arrived at the Spur's house, the priestess Zafira informed Jumo of his master's death, which occurred last night."

Jumo let out a heartbreaking groan. The anguished sound gave voice to Boaz's silent, tightly held reaction and to Pez's feeling of utter despair. "She said she would do everything to save his life," the distraught man wailed softly.

"The Spur is dead?" Boaz queried, uncomprehending, his throat tight with emotion.

"Sadly it is so, Great One," Zafira confirmed, glancing briefly toward Pez. The dwarf was so shocked he closed his eyes, hoping no one would notice how still he was.

"What happened?" Boaz growled, too stunned to make even a pretense at civility toward the old woman.

Zafira, trembling beneath her azure robes, stepped farther into the room and bowed once more before clearing her throat. "I tell this talea"as I told Jumoa"with the heaviest of hearts." They all saw her steady herself and blink away a mist of tears. "Spur Lazar took his last breath as a great cloud obliterated the moon during the small hours of this night gone. It was an omen, Highest One, for the darkness that reigned for several minutes signaled death for the Spur from the hideous injuries he sustained at the hands of those who punished him for protecting an innocent."

It was a cleverly couched yet nonetheless direct insult to the Zar and he knew it, as did everyone in that chamber. Boaz stared at the old woman, took in the defiant lift of her chin despite the pallor of her skin and her frailty, and wondered at the long night she had spent battling to save a man's life. He let the insult pass, almost felt he deserved it. As he glanced toward the once-proud Jumo, a surge of pity welled up in him. He registered the shock on the face of the dwarf. And realized they all needed time to digest this tragedy. "Leave us!" he said to the men.

"Zar Boaz, I thinka"" Briz began, but Boaz raised a hand, silencing him.

"I wish to speak to the priestess in private. You may wait outside if you insist, although I can't imagine I will come to any harm from an old woman and a clearly incapacitated man, both of whom I presume have already been thoroughly searched. Send messengers to the Valide and the Vizier. Have them wait in the antechamber until I summon them. I will give the news to them myself. No one is to discuss anything of what has gone on here. Is that clear, Briz?"

"It is, Mighty One."

"Good. See to it your men obey my command. And help Jumo into a seat before you depart."

With the men dismissed, the young Zar returned his attention to the old woman, who had seated herselfa"with a nod from Boaza"next to Jumo, who was looking steadfastly at his feet.

As soon as the door had closed on the last man, Pez opened his eyes. "Zafira! I pray this is a ruse."

Boaz noticed that she did not look him in the eye but shook her head sadly, and began to weep softly. "We tried everything, but in the end the poison killed him."

"Poison?" Boaz interrupted. "What are you talking about?" Then as he realized what the dwarf had said: "Pez, do you know this priestess?"

Pez nodded gravely. "I know Zafira and she knows of my sanity. We took the injured Spur to her at his instructions." He didn't want to say too much more about his connection to the priestess, and he knew Boaz was too filled with despair to ask why the dying Lazar would wish to go to her. "The whip was laced with poison, High One. We only discovered this at the temple and knew it was a race against time that we would probably lose."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Boaz yelled, suddenly losing control. "So that's where you were yesterday!"

Shocked by the outburst, everyone sat in frozen silence. Finally Pez spoke. "It never occurred to me that Lazar would not live. In hindsight, not telling you was wrong, Highness. Forgive me, but I presumed the Spur would make his own decision about where to lay blame once he recovered. I didn't feel it was my place."

"Not your place to tell me when you know of an intrigue that not only affects my realm but kills my head of security?" Boaz roared. And then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the anger went out of him. "But who would do such a thing? The flogging was accepted by everyone as appropriate punishment for Odalisque Ana's indiscretion."

"I'm sure the Snake would not have been used on one of your concubines, Zar Boaz," Jumo said, raising his head defiantly and surprising them all with the vehemence in his voice. "This was far more deliberate than you are giving credit for."

"You're forgiven your insolent tone, Jumo, because of your grief," Boaz replied mildly, surprising Pez with his maturity. "Explain the poison," he demanded to the room at large.

Pez signaled to Zafira, and the priestess spoke up. "We discovered it was drezden, Zar Boaz."

"What is drezden?"

"Snake poison," Pez answered dully. "The chosen brew of assassins."

"And you know how to deal with it?" Boaz asked, looking between the woman and the dwarf.

"I have some experience with healing snakebite," Zafira lied. "Lazar needed the special tea known as drezia, which is formed from the venom itself. He also needed sewing, for the wounds were savage."

Boaz shook his head in wonder. "And you did all this?"

The gray-haired woman nodded. "And anything else I could think of, but we lost him all the same. The wounds were too deep, the poison had had too long to work."

"He was rallying," Jumo countered angrily. "She said if I left he would likely pull through."

Boaz frowned at Jumo's rudeness, but Zafira squeezed Lazar's friend's hand and responded immediately. "I did think Jumo could be more help back in Percheron, Highness. It occurred to me that his network of contacts might yield more information and be of more assistance in the long run than to have him fretting by Lazar's side. The Spur was all but unconscious by that time anyway. He was in a delirium before he slipped into a coma and succumbed to the full paralysis of the poison. It was probably best his close ones did not have to witness his end."

Pez looked sharply at the priestess. Zafira was hiding Ellyana. Why? What were they so afraid of?

"Who are you suggesting brought this about?" Boaz demanded.

At this, all three pairs of eyes looked wary. Pez shrugged. It would not be politic to say the name. Zafira's expression turned blank.

"There are those who were jealous of the Spur," Jumo answered.

"Name them!" Boaz ordered, once again ignoring the man's inappropriate lack of protocol.

"It is not for me to say. I have no proof."

"Then I'll say it for you, shall I?" Boaz threatened, his ire up again. "There are only three suspectsa"my mother, Vizier Tariq, or the Grand Master Eunuch." He paused, and when a careful silence confirmed his assertion, he continued: "I do not need to defend her but you should all understand that this is not my mother's way. She loves Percheron, its security, and above all, her own. She knew who gave us this security." He glanced to Pez, who was nodding in agreement. "Vizier Tariq has no spine. He is sly and he has ambitions, but he would not dare risk such a death finding its way back to his hands. Salmeo is the most capable of this cunning and despicable act but I can't imagine why he would do such a thing." No one answered him. Even Jumo had realized he was negotiating dangerous territory. The accusation would not come from his lips.

The Zar continued. "No doubt if it was Salmeo who poisoned the whip, it is because he felt humiliated by the Spur undermining his authority. I imagine he wanted retribution for Odalisque Ana's snubbing of harem rules. Except resorting to murder seems an overreaction, wouldn't you say? And from my perspective, unlikely. There is more to this surely than a simple act of revenge. And I will get to the bottom of it."

Although none agreed with his reasoning, not one of them said so, each knowing that pointing fingers and throwing around blame would not bring Lazar back to them.

"Where is the corpse?" Boaz asked Zafira, ignoring Jumo's wince at the harsh word.

"The Spur rallied momentarily before he slipped into his coma. He begged me through his delirium to give him to the sea, my Zar. It was his last wish and we could not argue it, for he lost consciousness."

"Gone?" Jumo was astonished. "His body is gone? He asked for this?"

The priestess nodded. "He was determined. I had no choice but to agreea"it was a dying man's request. He said nothing else. He knew he was close to death."

"Where did he die?" Boaz asked, almost as an afterthought. "No one could find him."

Zafira sighed. She had not taken her hand from Jumo's. "He died at the temple. I had his body removed and taken to Z'alotny."

Pez was surprised by the lie, but he did not question it. Perhaps Ellyana did not want it known that Lazar had died in her home. In any case, he had no reason to doubt Zafira. "The burial ground of the priestesses?"

She shrugged defensively. "It is peaceful there and I am familiar with it. In fact it is precisely the sort of place a troubled man should take his last rest on this plane. I washed his body and dressed it in fresh robes before I had him rowed out to Beloch. I dropped him out of the boat beneath the giant." Only now did she sound unsure. "I thought it fitting it was done there."

Jumo's anger held him as rigid as the statue Zafira mentioned. "I should have been there," he protested.

"I couldn't find you, Jumo. I sent a messenger," Zafira said softly. "I'm so sorry about all of this, but I have few resources. And the Spur won my promise about giving him to the sea. He murmured something about it carrying him back to his homeland as he slipped away from me."

Jumo's expression softened immediately. Gone was the anger, replaced by something new, akin to fresh pain. "He was considering leaving Percheron for a while," he admitted softly.

His pronouncement seemed to rattle Boaz. "Was Lazar unhappy?" the Zar asked sharply.

"Not unhappy, Highness," Jumo replied, choosing his words with care. "He struck me asawistful in the days after we found Odalisque Ana. He was not pleased about being given that task by the Valide, it's true, but when you're out in the desert, Your Majesty, you often reflect about life and its possibilities."

"So he was planning to leave us?"

"No, Zar Boaz. I believe he was simply wondering about his homeland, his family probably."

"I never asked him about his childhood or life before Percheron," Boaz replied, genuine regret in his voice. "I wish I had now." Sighing, he straightened, his face suddenly resolute. "I will inform those who need to know about this tragedy and then I will declare three days of public mourning. Although sadly we will not have a body to commemorate the passing of the spirit, we will send him off nonetheless."

"And the perpetrator?" Pez prompted.

"And after that," Boaz declared, iron in his voice, "I will have someone ride the needle for this untimely death, so help me."

Zafira blanched and even Jumo could not hold back a grimace. Pez felt his stomach roll over. "Oh Highness, I'm not surea""