Authors: Fiona McIntosh
Maliz didn’t need to see Boaz’s face to know that the young Zar was struggling with his emotions and that something had happened to force his hand. His suggestion to the Zar had been nothing but a ruse, a stab in the dark to see what such wickedness could yield. He had no idea whether the Spur and the Zaradine had sneaked any time alone; he suspected not, given the close scrutiny under which they all lived during that time in the desert. But he had no doubt at all that the pair of them harboured unspoken desires for each other, perhaps even a forbidden love pact. Maliz believed the Zar would not find any possible forgiveness for a cuckolding. ‘You’ve brought me here, ready to talk. So tell me.’
‘The Khalid man unwittingly betrayed Lazar to the stupid youngster, Fayiz, who dreams of following in his hero’s footsteps and being a soldier in the protectorate.’
‘Really?’ Maliz could barely keep the surprise from his voice. ‘What have you discovered?’
‘I shall tell you nothing until you tell me what it is that you are offering and what it is that you
were alluding to earlier about your powers. I want to know who you are.’
‘I told you, who I am is irrelevant.’
‘Not to me.’
‘I matter not, trust me. What is relevant is what I can do for you.’
‘Which is?’
‘I hear anger and bitterness in your voice. I presume you want someone to pay for whatever is prompting it. You would not be a Zar if you didn’t believe you have right on your side to take revenge against any offence to the Crown or to you personally.’
‘Go on.’
Maliz shrugged. ‘I offer you the ability to take whatever revenge you seek.’
‘How?’
‘I can make you more powerful than you ever dreamed possible.’
‘What makes you think I dream of power?’
‘Surely all rulers enjoy power.’
‘In all likelihood, yes, but not necessarily do they dream of wanting more power than they already have. And I am already the most powerful person in Percheron. I have no design on empire.’
‘Oh, nicely said, Zar Boaz, but either you are not worthy of your title or you’re simply too insular and immature to understand your role.’
The silence that met his cutting sarcasm was frigid and he half-expected Boaz to start howling for Lazar and his trusted blade. But he had to risk
it, had to take the chance that he could blind Boaz with so much anger that he could no longer think in that straight, rational way of his.
‘It seems you wish yourself an early death, Tariq,’ Boaz said and Maliz could hear the control being exerted to keep his voice steady.
‘Not at all. But the time is here for honesty—bluntness even—and y ou must understand that your very throne is at stake if you continue to allow people to treat you like a child. Your mother probably wishes you were still a baby so that she could run the realm without you; the harem girls probably continue to hope that you are not ready to take much interest in them yet; Ana thinks of you as a boy but lusts for the touch of a real man—a forbidden one; whilst Lazar has clearly always held a torch for the young woman you have made your wife, marking her with his own scent at the first opportunity. Pez has spent years keeping you young and giggling at his silly antics—you’re the only one who finds him even vaguely amusing. And now the Galinseans are here to overthrow the boy Zar. Think about it. It’s time for you to show that you are a man, that you alone will make decisions for Percheron. What you’re doing here in the desert is part of that. Don’t be fooled, this will be the making of your reign, but you need to cut yourself away from those who do not serve you as honestly or loyally as I do.’
‘And what do you want? Please don’t insult me by saying you just wish to serve, I no longer believe that.’
‘I serve Zarab.’
‘Zarab? What has our god to do with this?’
‘Everything!’ Maliz laughed softly. It was the most honest word he’d spoken to the Zar since he’d taken over Tariq’s body.
‘I don’t understand. You are my Grand Vizier but you talk as though you wish to be a priest.’
‘You don’t have to understand. You just have to know that what motivates me is embedded in the notion of serving my god.’
He watched Boaz step away, hands on hips, under the moonlight. ‘I’m lost, totally lost.’
‘Do you recall the name Maliz?’
‘The warlock-turned-demon from myth who supposedly turned Beloch and Ezram to stone?’
‘The very one. Well, I support his notion to keep Percheron’s faith clean, untainted by those who work to see the Goddess Lyana returned to her pedestal.’
‘You jest!’
‘No. I speak only the truth. I am not interested in riches or the sort of power that other men crave, although I do enjoy them. But my life is committed to preserving the faith of our region. I am a mystic; I can tap into powers that are way beyond anything you can imagine.’
‘Lazar just accused me of behaving obliquely. I think it’s time for you to stop speaking so obliquely as well, Tariq. Tell me what you want from me,’ Boaz ordered and Maliz could hear that he had pushed the young Zar far enough.
‘Do you believe that Lazar and Ana have made a mockery of you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have proof, not just my hearsay?’
‘That is my business. Continue with your own.’
Maliz had to stifle a laugh. He could barely believe how easily the Zar was falling prey to his insecurities. ‘If you believe you have been cuckolded, Highness, it is irrelevant who else knows.
You
do. That in itself demands the gravest punishment.’
‘That is my decision, Tariq. You have yet to say anything I don’t already know.’
‘What if I could allow you to see Ana?’
The silence was long. ‘How is that possible?’ Boaz finally asked.
‘Magic, of course,’ Maliz answered mildly. ‘And what if I could allow you to listen in on Ana, watch her when she sees Lazar again? That way you can know for yourself how they feel about one another before you do anything rash.’ He was impressed with himself; he sounded so extraordinarily caring.
‘Lazar and Salim are leaving us tomorrow. We are apparently within one hour’s striking distance of the fortress.’
This was news to Maliz. ‘I see. That close, eh? Then we must make a decision this night, my Zar. Time is surely against us.’
‘We can see her tonight?’
‘We can see her immediately, my Zar—it’s up to you to simply say yes.’
‘To what?’
‘To allowing me to enter your life,’ Maliz said, feeling himself hold his breath in anticipation.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘For me to show you Ana, to eavesdrop on her conversation, for me to be able to show you Lazar’s attack on the fortress and his rescue of your wife, for me, Zar Boaz, to give you unequivocal proof of her infidelity, which she will surely reveal upon seeing Lazar, I must enter you magically.’
‘Enter me?’ Boaz whispered, the anger evident in how it came out as a growl but Maliz heard his confusion too.
‘It’s painless, Highness. We share a body but momentarily.’
‘Share my body,’ Boaz repeated and Maliz could hear the rising confusion laced with disgust in his voice. ‘How so?’
‘I have the power to join you, to transport you magically to wherever Ana is,’ Maliz lied.
Again a long silence ensued. The shock emanating from the Zar became tangible. He began to pace. ‘I can barely believe what I’m hearing and yet I can’t imagine that you are teasing.’
‘Let me assure you I do not jest, Highness.’
‘And can we also find Pez? He was supposed to be here.’
‘Er, yes, I don’t see why not.’ Maliz would agree to anything Boaz wanted in return for access to his body. He was already imagining how wonderful it
was going to feel to be in charge of that young, fit, healthy physique.
‘How does this occur?’
‘Well, you need to give me permission. Then, with the use of the magic, I can lift your spirit and together we can travel anywhere you wish us to go. You can roam to Percheron and peek at the Galinsean warships, you can look in on your mother, you can eavesdrop on Salmeo, you could even—’
‘And Lazar?’
‘Well, Majesty, if you wish you can travel alongside him tomorrow. He would be none the wiser, for you would be invisible,’ Maliz lied, impressed by how conv incing he sounded.
‘And then what?’
‘And then when you’re satisfied we return to your body. Simple.’
‘My body is safe?’
‘We would hide it.’
‘And what happens when “we” return?’
‘I leave you, Highness.’
‘What’s in this for you, Tariq?’
‘A clear conscience. I cannot imagine you would take my word against Lazar without proof. I wish to give you conclusive proof that he has been alone with your wife against your wishes. You obviously have your own suspicions. My considered counsel is that you don’t take any action without proof.’
‘Helpful as usual, Tariq,’ Boaz said with condescension, ‘but I still don’t know who you are
or how helping to ease my conscience helps you serve Zarab.’
And here was where Maliz knew he had to be convincing. ‘My Zar, I know this is going to come as a shock, but I believe Ana and Lazar to be followers of Lyana.’
‘So? We do not persecute anyone in Percheron for their beliefs, Tariq, you should know that. And I have seen no outward signs that either of them holds any unhealthy interest in the Goddess.’
‘No, my Zar. That’s because I believe they are plotting against you.’
‘What?’
‘Hush, Majesty. We shall be found out.’
‘This is treacherous talk, Tariq. You should consider carefully before you say any more,’ Boaz warned, anger and more shock evident in his voice.
‘I already have, Highness, and it grieves me to tell you this but I believe Ana and Lazar would like to return Percheron to a realm that prays to Lyana rather than Zarab.’
Boaz frowned. ‘We do not punish people based on their faith but I will not tolerate any sort of schism. That would require action from the Crown; Percheron follows Zarab.’
‘But a schism is precisely what they’re aiming to fuel, Highness.’
‘Well, have you confronted either of them about this?’
‘I dare not. Lazar is a man of violence. And we have witnessed what he can endure when he
feels Ana is threatened. And speaking of that, where did he ask for his body to be taken when he was so injured? Lyana’s Sea Temple. Who cared for him, nursed him back to health? The priestess Zafira. He is linked to Lyana, whether he cares to admit it or not. I’m told they found Ana in the Sea Temple with the priestess when she ran away from the harem. She could have run anywhere, Highness, and I think we’d all agree that she stood a better chance if she’d melted into the crowds at the bazaar or joined one of the caravans leaving the city. But she chose the lonely temple. She too is linked to Lyana through that curious choice.’
‘I shall ask Lazar,’ Boaz said angrily.
‘No, wait, Highness,’ Maliz said, grabbing the Zar’s arm, apologising immediately with a small bow for the indiscretion. ‘That is not the way to approach this. If there is a conspiracy afoot, Lazar will have all of his excuses and cunning rationale in place. A direct approach will not work. The only way to discover the truth is to use guile, Highness. We must watch, eavesdrop. We must use the magic I offer.’
‘I can’t believe this, Tariq. It’s one thing to accuse Lazar of coveting a beautiful woman who is not his to look upon. It is another to accuse that same man of treachery when he has been exemplary in his loyalty to our Crown.’
‘They are one and the same, my Zar. Both acts—carnal and spiritual—betray you.’
Boaz shook his head but before he could speak, Maliz pushed him further still.
‘Do not risk humiliation, my Zar. If I am wrong, have me killed. That’s how strongly I feel about this. I have no reason to lie to you. I have powers at my fingertips that I can make yours—just invite me in. All you have to do is—’
‘Maliz!’ the Zar finally said, as some dawning that the demon could not see must have broken across his expression. ‘You are the one they call the demon?’ he accused.
And now, finally Maliz revealed himself fully. He permitted his true, deep voice to emerge. ‘Do I frighten you?’ He heard Boaz’s hesitation. ‘You have nothing to fear from me. I will not interfere with your Crown, your realm or your people. I want only that Percheron remain true to Zarab.’
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ Boaz admitted, his voice fearful. ‘You have been hiding as Tariq all along?’
Maliz shrugged the Grand Vizier’s shoulders. ‘Quite a short while, to be honest. Percheron is under threat, my Zar—I am here to help you.’
‘Why couldn’t you declare yourself? Why the secrecy?’
‘People fear what they do not understand. It is easier to work invisibly when you are on a mission such as mine.’
‘Where is the real Tariq?’
‘He died of natural causes, Majesty. I had hoped to persuade him to join me, to be my eyes around
the palace. He was ready to help but he wanted power and riches. I could give him anything he wanted and he was greedy. He sampled the fruits and died one night in a lascivious combination of women and wine. He was old, Highness; his body could not take that sort of excitement.’
‘And then what happened?’
Maliz sighed. ‘I took my opportunity. He no longer needed his body. You could say I borrowed it. I have treated it with deference and I have made Tariq into a man that everyone, including Lazar, can respect, however grudgingly.’
‘I cannot fault you there,’ Boaz admitted, wonderment in his voice. ‘And so now it all makes sense—the stoop is gone, the adornments disappear, the more likeable Tariq emerged.’
‘Thank you, Highness. May I say you seem to be taking this news rather well—is it because you hated the old Tariq so much?’ Before Boaz could answer, Maliz added. ‘Or has someone given you a clue to my presence, I wonder?’
Boaz hesitated. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How could anyone know?’
But Maliz heard the discomfited pause and he stored it away. Lazar was definitely suspicious of him. He wished he could kill him right now but he needed him as a guide and protector for the desert. He would bide his time and deal with the arrogant Spur in due course.