The palace's gods' room was a high-ceilinged, incense-scented place of worship and contemplation. Hand-woven carpets of rich blues and greens covered the marble floor so that the sultan and his dependents might properly prostrate themselves before the Three set high upon their plinth in the chamber's centre.
Sunlight shafted through the attenuated windows, piercing the cool shadows and striking splendid sparks of colour from the gods' silver and gold wrought bodies, their ruby eyes, their diamond teeth and claws. Not wood, these icons, not even for the sultan. Only the most-blessed sultan's holy man, touched by the might and majesty of the Three, knelt before wood in a desert land where no wood was to be found.
As instructed, Nerim was waiting for him beneath the swathes of silk draped overhead from wall to wall. Less expected was the sight of Zazoor, an older mirror image of Nerim but, by some strange alchemy, more real, more vital, by the gods' grace distilled to the purest essence of intellect and honour. Kneeling on the carpets beside his young brother, head lowered and eyes half-closed in concentration, he listened to Nerim prattle breathlessly about -
Shugat frowned. Without hearing a single word he knew exactly what Nerim was prattling about. In his tightened grasp his staff quivered, and the single gods'Tear in his forehead flashed white fire.
Zazoor glanced up. One hand lifted, silencing his brother's rattling tongue. After a long, steady look at his holy man he turned his head, lips brushing Nerim's sun-scorched cheek. He whispered something into his brother's crimson-tipped ear. Nerim nodded, smiled, kissed his brother's hand, placed Zazoor's palm atop his head in formal obeisance and withdrew, skipping past like a camel colt caught in mischief.
Zazoor looked after him, a rueful smile thawing, a little, his natural reserve. 'We both know there is no wilful disobedience in him, my holy man,' he said, voice and dark blue eyes tranquil. 'He was but overwhelmed by his experiences in New Ottosland. Did he drive you to complete distraction?'
Shugat scowled. 'Not quite complete. My sultan — '
Zazoor raised a placating hand, i know. I know. His intellect is… feeble. But he has a good heart and in some ways he is closer to the people than I, their sultan. It's why I sent him with you, Shugat. As a barometer.' 'You think I did not know that?'
'No,' said Zazoor. 'I can hide nothing from my redoubtable Shugat. What did you learn from him?'
He snorted. 'What you already knew, Zazoor. That weak eyes are easily dazzled.'
Zazoor grinned, a rare flashing of white teeth, and uncoiled from the carpet to stand lightly on the balls of his feet, poised for any challenge the Three saw fit to provide. 'So you did not care overmuch for my dear old school chum Lional?'
He would have spat, were it not that he stood in the gods' room, in their presence. 'A veritable sand viper, Zazoor, and I fear I slight the snake to say so.' He grimaced. 'Even a sand viper may be spit-and-roasted if starvation is the only other choice. Not so this Lional. The flesh of New Ottosland's king would dissolve a man's teeth in his gums and burst his belly with acid bile.'
'In other words,' said Zazoor, 'he hasn't changed.' He indicated one of the marble benches set into the wall of the gods' room, in deference to the old and the infirm and the very young who found themselves in need of the gods' succour or assistance.'Come. Let us sit and talk, old friend.'
Shugat bowed to the Three, shining in the sunlight, then took his place at Zazoor's side. Leaning back into the seating alcove, right knee drawn up to his chest, arms linked loosely about it, Zazoor considered him, one eyebrow raised in silent enquiry.
'This Lional is a bad man, my Sultan,' he said, shaking his head.'He wishes us nothing but ill.' Zazoor frowned. 'How do you know?'
He bared his stumpy teeth in a grim smile. 'He offers you the hand of his only sister in marriage.'
'Princess Melissande? Yes. So Nerim said.' Zazoor pursed his hps in thought.'I met her. Years ago. A squat child with hair like rusty nails. I don't suppose…'
'Alas, no. Outwardly the lowliest maid in your smallest village is more comely to the eye.'
'Ah.' Zazoor sighed. He was a kind man. 'A pity, then, for her sake.'
'The palace servants say she is strict but fair, honest and overworked,' he added. 'Beauty burns away beneath the sun, Zazoor, but an honourable heart withstands even Grimthak's mighty flame. I judge Princess Melissandes heart to be most honourable. She would make a worthy wife and mother of your sons but she is not for you.'
Zazoor's eyebrow lifted again.'That is not what Nerim says. Nerim says the gods most earnestly desire me to marry Lional's sister.'
'As ever, Nerim snatches at the truth like a child greedy for a sweetmeat, who takes only the wrapping and leaves the real prize behind,' he said, disapproving. 'It is Lional who says the gods desire you to marry the girl.This is untrue. I say it again, great Sultan of Kallarap: the Princess Melissande is not for you. Her destiny lies along a different path.'
'Ah,' said Zazoor, then fell silent. At length he stirred, the merest hint of a rueful smile touching his lips. 'No word yet, I suppose, on who is for me?'
He rapped his staff lightly against the side of the sultan's head. 'When the gods choose your proper wife you will be the second to know.'
Zazoor flattened his hands to his heart, the sign of obedient acceptance. 'Lional thinks, of course, to void the treaties with this proposed marriage. Perhaps more, and worse. Knowing him as I do, his offer does not surprise me.'
'More and worse,' Shugat said grimly. 'You have the right of it. You must refuse the king's offer in such a way that he cannot vent his rage upon his sister. For that, I judge, is the honour of his heart.'
Zazoor smiled. 'As always, friend Shugat, your eyes see a man's soul as keenly as Vorsluk.'Then his smile faded and his face took on a solemn cast. 'Nerim says Vorsluk and Lalchak were present in Lional's court. He says they answered Lional's plea but not your own. He says Vorsluk spoke on Lional's command.' His breath caught in his throat as though he were nearly overcome. 'These are wonders I did not think to hear, Shugat, and I confess I find them hard to believe… but can I deny them? Nerim is my brother and for all his foolishness he does not lie.'
Shugat rested his chin on his chest and sighed deeply. 'Nerim's faith is pure. He looks at the world with the eyes of a child, Zazoor, and in his breast beats the heart of a child. Like a child he cannot conceive of wickedness and perfidy. I may at times long to beat him, but still I would have him thus till the end of his days if to have him otherwise gave him the eyes and heart of a man like Lional. Nerim saw and believed what he was intended to see and believe. There was a bird, and it did speak. But it was not the voice ofVorsluk that Nerim and I heard.'
'Then what was it?' said Zazoor, after a moment of silent surprise.
He shrugged. 'What else but some feathered thing captured and taught to mimic speech? Trained to speak on Lional's command.'
'It is possible, I suppose,' Zazoor agreed, frowning. 'But what of Lalchak? Nerim says the Lion showed Lional great favour and did not smite him with tooth or claw.' 'Lions, too, can be tamed and trained.'
'Then this was trickery?' said Zazoor. 'But how can that be? The Three are hidden from all but the Kallarapi. How could Lional know them if this was a ruse?'
Shugat smoothed his rough robe over his knee. 'So there is one thing Nerim did not tell you.' 'I do not understand,' said Zazoor, staring. 'Perhaps not. But do you recall, my sultan, a time at school when you succumbed to temptation? Drank wine to excess? Gambled with Lional… and lost the bet?'
As sleeping memory stirred the blood drained from beneath Zazoor's golden skin, leaving him pale and shaken. 'Grimthak burn me…' he whispered.