"I won't. He's waving something at me. Let me just get it." Pez disappeared down the steps, pausing regularly to grab mindlessly at the air and mutter loudly about flying fruit.

"Well, you're in luck, lad. The fool has fallen for it," the soldier said as they watched the dwarf descending.

"I like Pez; he's funny."

"Funny, yes. He's also mad. I can't see what this Zar or the old one could see in having that thing ranting by their sides all day."

Pez was grinning when he finally arrived. "Is it dinner already? Are we eating the elephants from the zoo?"

"Go on," the soldier said, nudging the lad.

"Er, Pez, sir," Teril began, unsure how to appropriately address the court jester.

Pez stared at man and boy, scratching his crotch. "Did you see all those flying pomegranates just now? I had no idea they could sprout wings or talk."

"The, er, lad has a note for you, Pez," the soldier said, ignoring the dwarf 's babblings.

Pez stared at the proffered scroll. "Is this my dinner?"

The man looked at the boy with sympathy. "Just put it in his hand. You can tell your priest that you fulfilled the duty that was asked of you. If the idiot eats it, that's his problem."

Teril did as he was told, pushing the scroll into the strangely oversize hands of the dwarf, trying not to gape at the huge knuckles and long fingers. "I was asked to give this to you," he explained tentatively.

Pez smelled the note and then began to drool from the side of his mouth, his eyes fixed vacantly on something beyond.

"Go now," the man urged the lad. Hesitating only briefly, Teril hurried away.

"And the elephants?" Pez asked, seemingly returning to himself.

"Soon," the soldier said, quickly taking his leave as well.

Pez clutched the scroll, feeling a chill crawl up his spine. No one had ever written to hima"the only people who would were those who knew the truth about him. That meant someone on the outside of the palace had asked the lad to get this note to him. Was it Jumo? The servant couldn't write but he could have had it scribed. Zafira perhaps? Or even Ellyana? Well, one thing was for sure: he couldn't read it nowa"it would be too obvious. Instead he sniffed it again, knowing others were watching him. Then, after nibbling the edge and spitting the fragments straight back out again, he tucked the note into his shirt and climbed the steps. He had not allowed the Lore magic to wane while he was occupied but he could feel Boaz's anxiety level increasing. It seemed the executioner's team was ready to begin.

30.

Boaz's complexion had turned so pale Pez wondered if the boy would pass out. The Zar was staring fixedly ahead, his eyes glazed. Pez increased the wave of magic and his friend seemed to recover some equilibrium.

"Pez," Boaz muttered, swaying slightly. "How can I let an innocent man die?"

The dwarf ignored the question and increased his channeling. Boaz was going to have to learn about situations of intolerable cruelty.

Pez looked down and felt his own gut twist at the sight below. Horza"naked except for a small piece of linen tied around his hipsa"was being laid out on the ground.

"I've read about this in the books in the library. Do you know it was invented by one of the Zars?" Boaz seemed mesmerized and repulsed at the same time.

Pez could feel the boy leaning into the magic, trying to take more because of his fear. "Boaz, you must teach yourself to let go," he cautioned. "I have you. You are safe. I can make you blind to it if you wish, but I think that would be cowardly. Think of Odalisque Ana standing over there alone, watching her uncle die hideously. She has nothing to help her, save whatever courage she can muster from within." It was the right thing to say. Boaz stood straighter, taller, at the mention of the girl's name. "Now let go as I say, and I will keep you safe. You will not disgrace yourself."

"What about Ana?" the Zar whispered, taking deep slow breaths.

Pez felt the greedy grip on his magic lessening. "Ana is strong. Her hatred for Salmeo will get her through this." Boaz nodded thoughtfully, and Pez felt further lessening on the hold. There was no more time. He had to move quickly. "Now, Boaz, I must go."

"Go?" Boaz exclaimed.

"Hush, child, I want to say good-bye to Horz."

Boaz looked chastened. "He's a good man. I had hoped they would pardon him. Can your magic not help him too?"

"No, I won't use magic," Pez replied, keen to be gone. "You stand there and focus on me. I'll be near Horz so it will look as if you're watching the condemned man. The Lore will not fail you, Boaz. Trust it."

The Zar nodded miserably. "Tell him I'm sorry."

"I think he already knows."

FOUR MEN TOOK HOLD of the bindings around Horz's wrists and ankles and pulled, tightening the straps, so that the Elim was now spread-eagled on the ground. The executioner looked up to his Zar, who sadly lowered his head as the signal to proceed.

The hush in the crowd was so thick it was oppressive as Pez emerged from one of the gates, snarling and running at the onlookers, who backed away, unsure. Was this part of the entertainment? Or was it just the oddity of the infamous dwarf? It was not often that they got this close to the Zar's famed jester but his reputation preceded him; he was known to be contrary, one moment happier than the birds at dawn and the next dark and angry like a gathering storm. And it looked to them as though dawn had come and gonea"the storm was surely brewing. Pez was hissing at everyone, including the executioner. "I want to kiss him good-bye," he suddenly moaned, breaking into sobs. He kept repeating it, furious, like a child determined to have his way.

The executioner had been handed a thick, vicious pole, sturdy and fearsome. It had been sharpened to a savage point and the executioner positioned the sharp end between Horz's spread legs, just moments away from impaling the trembling yet silent man of the Elim.

Pez increased his volume until he was shrieking.

The executioner, unusually rattled by the dwarf 's behavior, turned once again to his Zar for approval. The young man, standing alone, trembling in tandem with the man about to die, nodded and the executioner stepped back, allowing Pez his request. Everyone near the front of the mob and those on high watched the dwarf change instantly from hysterically angry to smiling and serene. He bowed to his Zar, then to the executioner, before waddling over to kneel by Horz and whisper close to his ear.

"You are the bravest man the Zar knows," Pez said. "Go to your god with a clean conscience, friend." Pez silenced any reply by placing his mouth on the lips of the innocent man.

When he lifted away Horz stared back at him in shock. The dwarf had tricked them all these years! He was as sane as Horza"the Elim heard it in the words, could see it in the intense yellow gaze of the man.

"Shh," was all Pez would say, a finger to his lips, and then he was cavorting away, grinning and clapping. "I kissed him," he boasted, and his bemused audience could only shake their heads as they watched his short figure cartwheeling and skipping back to the small palace gate, finally disappearing through it.

Their attention diverted by the dwarf 's madness, no one saw Horz die as he bit down on the pellet Pez had passed into his mouth. The poison was swift; his heart stopped in a matter of seconds and he sighed softly to his death with his eyes open and not so much as a twitch of his bound limbs. It was a peaceful, painless enda"and cheated the executioner of Salmeo's victory.

Everyone marveled as the brave Elim didn't even struggle when his torment began. Their awe at his courage when he didn't scream as the pole was rammed into him was so palpable it was like a living, breathing entity of its own. A few people were violently sick as the executioner used a huge mallet to ease the pole's passage through Horz's body, and even two of the men stretching his limbs looked away when the tip of the pole burst through flesh and bone, emerging at Horz's shoulder. The shrieks of disgust in the crowd quieted, at last, to reverence. Condemned as a murderer, Horz would live on in the history books as the Elim's most famed warrior, almost godlike in his stoicism.

"Raise him," the executioner called, as taken aback as any member of the crowd by Horz's lack of protest or struggle.

Horz was raised, impaled on the pole, which was now set into the ground. He would remain there for three days until the smell of his corpse offended the palace and then he would be removed to a special mound on the fringe of the city where he would rot fully, reminding the Percherese for a long time of their Zar's intolerance of any treachery.

ANA HAD CLOSED her eyes to the terrifying scene below and refused to open them even when the fragrance of violets told her that Salmeo was leaning close.

"Your uncle is a stunningly brave man," he lisped. "Not even a sound. I must say that impresses even me and I've seen the bravery of the Elim over the years."

"I hope his spirit never lets you rest easily again," Ana replied.

Salmeo laughed, although he was infuriated by the proceedings. Not only had Horz died courageously but Shaz had been released. The boy now posed a very real threat to the eunuch, knowing what he did. Fortunately Salmeo knew just what would make him feel better. He licked his lips. "Come, Ana, you will learn that I am not threatened by spirits. Now let us really begin your training as a slave. I have so much in store for you."

IN THE KARAK, on the way back to his wing of the palace, Boaz felt what was a mild headache gaining in strength.

"It's the after-effects of the Lore," Pez said matter-of-factly. "You should tell your aides that you wish to be left in peace."

Boaz shook his aching head. "I am humbled by Horz's bravery." He stared absently into the silk screen that hid him from the view of palace passersby.

"We all should be. I told him what you said," Pez lied.

"And?" Boaz asked eagerly, desperate for some relief from his guilt.

Pez took pity on the boy. "He offered thanks."

There was a difficult silence between them as Boaz thought about the brave Elim. "I am going to see more of this in my life, aren't I?" he asked eventually.

"You will see suffering, yes."

"Next time I will be as brave as the Elim. I will emulate Horz and not call upon the Lore."

Pez nodded in approval. "I am proud of you for that."

Boaz sighed. "It's over, then."

"What is?"

"The business with Lazar."

"Not for me," Pez muttered bitterly, quietly enough that Boaz could not hear. He called for the Elim to stop, tumbling out of the karak before the men could fully halt. Laughing maniacally, he stuck his head back through the curtains.

"What was that for?" Boaz whispered.

"You need time alone. Rest. I shall take supper with you later if you wish."

The Zar nodded absently. "Can you get a message to Odalisque Ana for me?"

Pez nodded, the mention of a message reminding him of the folded note pressed against his chest. "Of course."

"Tell her I'm sorry she had to witness that. Tell her I will keep my promise about the picnic."

"I'll go and find her for you now."

Boaz touched the little man's gnarled, clawlike hand. "Thank you, Pez."

31.

Before he went to find Ana, Pez returned to his own chamber, the parchment scratching against his skin as he closed his door on the day's events. For no reason he could explain, he felt all of his skin itch in anticipation; every inch of his being was prickling with expectation.

Checking first through the windows to make sure that no one was around outside, he took the extra precaution of sitting on the floor next to a huge painted chest of drawers that held his silks. It completely covered him from view should someone suddenly decide to look through those windows. He remembered now as he unfolded the note why the youngster who had brought it was familiar to him. He had been present in the Courtyard of Sorrows, as Shaz's assistant, who had carried the Viper's Nest behind the apprentice. A fresh wave of foreboding washed over the dwarf. Pez opened the note, recognized with a chill the handwriting despite the scrawl, and finally, hardly daring to breathe, read its terrifying contents.

HE COULDN'T KNOW how long he had stared at the note. Many minutes had passed, he was sure, as he had read and reread in disbelief.

"The note tells no lie," said a familiar voice. Pez looked up to see a dazzling young woman standing before him.

"Why am I not surprised to see you?" he said, anger simmering not only for what he'd read but for her audaciousness in coming here again.

"I sense your distress," she answered levelly.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it anything so mild as distress. Betrayal is the word that leaps to mind, treachery perhaps. A good man died today."

"So I saw," she replied softly.

"And it had no effect on you, I see," he said darkly.

"What I noted most was that he didn't suffer. That was one of your best performances."

"Losing life before one's time is not suffering?"

"I won't debate this with you now, Pez," she said, suddenly losing interest. "There are more important things to discuss."

"More importanta" His voice trailed off into silent rage. He pointed a gnarled finger, punctuating his remarks with furious jabs. "I'm not part of your intrigue, Ellyana. I will not be coerced as you have coerced others. "He paused, then added, "Neither, I'd wager, will Jumo."

The strange woman sighed. "Yes, I imagine he will be vengeful."

"Ready to kill, in fact. And with every right after what happeneda"the way you manipulated him and everything connected with Lazar's death."

"I understand your angera""

He interrupted her with a sound of disgust. "Where?"

"You will know soon enough."

He nodded wearily. He had not been expecting such a straight answer. "Leave me. I want nothing more to do with you."

"Not before I finish what I came here to tell you. Hate me all you wish, Pez, but I am not your enemy."

"Who needs enemies?" he bit back.

"You have one. He is already hunting youa"he senses you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pez asserted, though his tone was uncertain and he felt his stomach turn over unpleasantly.

"Yes, you do. You have the owl. It has marked you. I know you've lied that the whiteness of your hair was achieved with dye. That white is her permanent mark. You remember the dreamscape tooa"I can see in your eyes how it haunts you. You know who you are."