All the purchases of young girls had been hard on Lazar but this one touched his heart, for in truth the other girls had been seduced by the idea of wealth and luxury. Ana was by far the most beautiful, but by her own admission, neither riches nor pampering held any appeal for her.

They departed with the sound of forty pieces of silver jangling in Felluj's apron as she stomped back down the ridge to her family, and soon Ana's home and even the ridge she lived below was out of sight.

"What do you want me for, sir?" she asked, reaching from Jumo's horse to tug at Lazar's sleeve.

"I do not want you for anything, Ana," he said, more sorrowfully than he intended. "You belong to the Zar now, his odalisque."

6.

Zafira lived in a tiny dwelling in the attic of the temple, reached by narrow stone stairs and with a breathtaking view across the harbor. She shared it with doves mainly, who liked the high vantage point of the eaves to roost amid, but she made welcome the many small birds that came daily to her window for scraps and fresh water.

She had her back to that window and its sprawling vista at this moment and wondered again, as she stared into the steamy swirls rising from her cinnamon tea, about her recent visitor and his importance. The voices that haunted her dreams had told her to wait for him and to welcome him when he finally came. She had waited in vain for several years, almost forgetting about it, and then suddenly, two days ago, the man they had spoken of had wandered into the temple. They had given her no description of him and yet she knew instinctively that the Spur was the one. She had seen this man from a distance ranging around the city, but now that she could see him from such a close perspective, he was younger than she had expected, with rugged looks and a remote disposition. Everything about him was hard: the angular planes to his face, the way he carried himself with such bristling strength beneath the loose robes, the determined stride, the glower he regarded her with, even the anger she sensed he repressed. His words, his attitudea"all of him seemed hardened. But not cruel. No; secretive perhaps, determined, bitter even, but not cruel, for all that hard exterior.

Why was he important? Important to what? She could not guess.

Her present visitor interrupted her musings. "I'll pay you for them," he said.

She smiled. "Mindless stuff, Pez, I promise," she said, sipping her tea. "Is your quishtar all right?"

"Delicious and you know it," he replied. "No one brews better than you, Zafira."

"Perhaps that's what I'll be remembered for," she said, amused.

"More, I imagine," Pez answered, something cryptic in his glance.

She left it alone. Pez was mysterious enough without reading into his words or second-guessing the strange machinations of his mind.

"How did you come to be here, Pez?" she asked suddenly, glad to move away from her confused thoughts.

"Like most of the foreigners here, I was captured and sold as a slave. Except I was such an oddity there was really only one place for me."

"How convenient, then, that you have such an amusing way."

Pez eyed the priestess in a serious manner very few were permitted to see. "You know better than to goad me, Zafira."

She took his admonishment in the gentle manner it was given. "You're such an enigma, Pez. Why is everyone around me so mysterious?"

"Oh? Who else has you so baffled?"

"The Spur paid the temple a visit."

Pez nodded. "Yes, well, he left the palace seething. I'm not surprised he needed somewhere to calm himself. And where better than here?"

Noting Zafira's expression of query, Pez explained about Lazar's special duties.

"Oh, I see," the priestess said. "He did seem troubled."

Pez's odd collection of features rearranged themselves into a smile. "Troubled is an understatement. I think it was very good that he left the city for a while."

"Why to the temple first, though?" she wondered aloud, adding unexpectedly: "I've been having dreams, Pez."

"Oh?" he said, unfazed by the sudden switch in topic. "Can I help?"

"I don't think so. I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Because we're friends, Zafira, and heaven knows there are few enough of those in this place."

She nodded, understanding only too well. "But why are we friends? Why have we chosen each other? How is it that I know you are perfectly sane whilst the palace believes you are the opposite?"

"You question life too much, old woman," he replied gently, cupping his deformed hands around the cooling bowl of half-drunk tea. "You and I are both seeking the same thinga"we recognize it in each other; it's why we are friends."

"What is it we search for?" Zafira heard the plea in her voice and wondered at it. Why did she think Pez would have an answer for her?

The jester shrugged. "We shall know it when it presents itself. And to answer your other question, I keep my sanity a secret because the semblance of madness protects me. It is my only defense in a highly dangerous place."

"I'm sorry, Pez. I don't know what's come over me today. I have this sense ofa" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"A sense of what?"

The priestess turned her hands palms up in bafflement. "That something is in motion and it somehow involves me."

"What do you mean?"

"Something important."

"Go on."

She gave a look of exasperation. "I don't know, Pez. That's just it."

"Is it connected with your dreams?"

She nodded. "I'm sure of it but I can't really remember anything specific. I was told to expect a man and that he was important."

"The voices you spoke of told you this?"

"Whispers, really. But I can't tell you precisely what they said."

"How do you know they meant Lazar?"

"I don't but I feel very sure it's him. Why I was told to expect this person I have no idea. Oh, Pez, I'm sorry to sound so vague."

"Don't upset yourself, my friend. I myself feel I'm here for a reason but can't tell you why." He smiled sadly.

"How long have you been in Percheron, Pez?"

He looked around and scratched his chin. In profile, his hooked nose looked even more prominent. "It must be past two decades now," he answered.

"That long!"

"Must be. Boaz is fifteen and I was the Zar's jester for at least six summers before our new ruler was born."

She smiled. "And you've frustrated, exasperated, and deliberately irritated Herezah for all that time, I'm sure."

"Oh, that's the least I can do," he replied, sharing her amusement. "I hope you have no spies here, my friend, or our new Valide will have our heads on spikes before we pour another glass of tea."

She stood to heat fresh water. "Fret not, Pez. My doves here would warn me if anyone is aroundathey coo at the slightest thing. I gather the changes have already begun at the palace. You'll have to watch yourself."

"She hates me, that's clear, but mainly for the reason you speak ofa"that I frustrate her. I know she's using magical means to dig into my past, my mind."

"What kind of magic?"

"Yozem."

The priestess made a sound of disgust. "Evil woman, a curse to her kind."

"She can find nothing on me," he said softly.

"Why not? Aren't people terrified of her because she can read anyone?"

Pez pulled an expression to suggest he was not bothered by it. "Most don't even know whether or not she exists. She does, of course, holed up in the horrid cryptlike chambers beneath the palace. Either I'm impervious to her dark magicks or they don't exist and she's a fake. Whichever way it is, Herezah has nothing she can lay at my feet, and besides, Boaz loves me to bits. She will not win an argument for my death with the new Zara"trust me."

"You're very confident, Pez," Zafira said warily.

"I am also very careful, my friend. Don't worry about me."

"What about Tariq and that vile head eunuch?"

Pez nodded. "With Herezah's influence and the power she will extend to them, I think we have a right to be worried. It's why Lazar's presence around the palace is important. He brings balance. Boaz worships Lazar, which is good fortune for us, for he listens to what the Spur advises. I don't think our new Zar has much time for Tariq but he's still young. We cannot expect too much of Boaz too soona"he still has a very young man's notions and urges. In all truth, I'm sure that he would rather ride and shoot, fish and play, than think about political matters. This is what Herezah is counting on, of course. She'll fuel his pleasures, all the time usurping more and more power for herself and her sycophants."

"It's a grim picture you paint," Zafira said.

"Well, the assembling of a harem will keep all three of them busy for a while."

Zafira nodded and they sat in comfortable silence for several moments as she poured fresh bowls of tea and moved to the window. She sighed. "So, I wonder what it is that we're both waiting for." She stared out to sea and, as always, marveled at the grandeur of the twins in the harbor. "I feel like we're Beloch and Ezram out there, waiting for something to happen."

"You might be right, old friend," Pez answered.

LAZAR SEEMED TO BE in no urgency to return to the city. They had made camp on a rocky outcrop and could now clearly see the sparkling waters of the Faranel and the glittering city spreading down to her edge. It was as if pastel lava had erupted from the hilltop where the palace stood and slid down to the natural harbor, hardening on its slow journey to form the superb architecture of Percheron.

It was Ana who made this observation, much to the silent delight of Lazar, who was quiet at the best of times but downright sullen this evening. "And you've seen a mountain erupt and spill the earth's hot contents, have you?"

"In my dreams I have," she said, frowning. "I think they must exist somewhere across the landsa"though when I saw it, it was frightening, whereas Percheron lifts my heart."

Lazar said nothing but was secretly pleased by Ana's description of Percheron. Since first seeing the city, he too had always feltawhat was it? Restored?

"Well, I think it's a beautiful notion, Ana," Jumo said, filling the silence, "and shall always think of the city that way from now on."

"Do you not like me, sir?" Ana asked, turning her direct gaze on Lazar.

"What makes you say that?" he growled, busying himself with stirring the glowing coals of their small fire.

"You glare a lot at me, sir. I don't know what I've done wrong."

"You've done nothing wrong, Ana," he answered.

"That's his happy face," Jumo chimed in, and Ana giggled with him, which won a fresh scowl from Lazar.

"What are you sad about, then?" she persisted.

"I don't know," Lazar answered, a sudden wistfulness in his tone that puzzled Jumo. "Here, eat," he added, handing Ana a piece of the poultry they had cooked.

"I don't eat birds," she said apologetically.

"This is chicken. Not a real bird," Jumo put in.

"Because it doesn't fly, you mean?" she said. At his nod, she shook her head. "It has wings, Jumo. I think a chicken would fly if it could, which makes it a bird for me."

"We'd all fly if we could," Lazar grumbled.

Ana seemed to find this amusing and laughed again at the Spur. Jumo thought about the last person who laughed at Lazar and wondered where his head had ended up. And yet here he was allowing a young slip of a thing tease him. Would wonders never cease?

"Well, I think you'd better change your attitude and at least pretend to be gracious about any food put before you. The palace will indulge its girls but not necessarily their personal whims. As it's your final night of freedom, I will respect your aversion to eating bird, but if you're not going to eat, let me suggest you sleep," Lazar said to Ana. "Tomorrow we'll ride all day and reach the city late. There won't even be time to catch your breath. Valide Zara will be keen to see you."

"Who's Valide Zara?"

Lazar frowned at the thought. "She's your new mistress."

"Is that who you're selling me to?"

"She has already bought you, Ana, not me. Your mother sold you to the harem."

"Felluj is not my mother. I should prefer to stay with you and Jumo."

The men glanced at each other. "You will be all right in the harem, Ana," Lazar assured her. "You'll make friends quickly, I promise."

"Are you my friend, Lazar? Promise me you'll always be my friend."

Jumo grinned privately. He had never seen his master so disconcerted.

"You have my word," Lazar promised awkwardly.