"Whatever I did, Safar said, it'd be the end of our friendship. If I agreed, it would my last act as your friend. If I refused, you'd consider our bond broken. Either way it would be over.
"Are you willing to risk that, Iraj?"
Protarus laughed bitterly. It would be the only thing in my life I haven't risked, he said.
"Family? Hah! I killed my uncle. And slew his wives and his children too so they wouldn't sprout into enemies.
"The honor of my clan? Yes, I risked that from the very beginning. For if I had ever stumbled and fallen, the name Protarus would have been shamed for all history.
"Fortune? Bah! I am like you in that, Safar. I know I tell little lies to myself now that I am king and can have anything I want. It's habit, like drinking too deeply and too often. But I risked one fortune after another on the road to Zanzair. Every palace I looted I risked in the next toss of the dice to win another.
"Life itself? No one would deny that I've proved my willingness to cast it down as the price of a challenge. Why, I've nearly thrown it away many times just for the thrill of it."
Safar suddenly remembered Iraj's headlong race down the Kyranian mountainside to confront the demon raiders. It seemed like such a pure act at the time. The act of a storied hero. And for what? To save a merchant's caravan? A caravan carrying not a soul Iraj knew or cared about. And there was not an innocent among themnot a babe, not a maid, mother, granny, or man who if you met them would wring pity from your heart.
Then he remembered his own mad dash in Iraj's wake. He saw it clear. Saw the snow crusted boulders leaping up in his path. Saw the demons with fangs and talons and terrible swords. Saw their steeds who fought like great cats. And he felt it. Felt the fear icing his veins. Felt the demon magic crackling with power he never knew was possible. Felt the anger when he saw Astarias being dragged through the snow by her long black tresses. Felt the cold, distant satisfaction of his first kill.
He looked at Iraj and for the first time truly understood the man he'd been following for all these years. With that knowledge came a small understanding of himself. It arrived with a pang of disappointment. Like Iraj, he'd been a creature of events. A creature who'd cried holy purpose when there was only self at heart. Made himself a man who stretched his head above others, falsely ennobled by the vision of Hadin.
For the first time since this confrontation had first roused itself, Safar wavered. What did it matter? In a world of lies, what was one more? Magic was no holy thing. He was no priest with a godly cause. He had no temple, no altar. And the gods themselves were silent on the matter. Why not do as Iraj asked and declare an Era of Great Blessings? He could say it, then work like the devils from the Hells to make it so.
Then it came to him to do otherwise might destroy the man he'd called friend. A man who had only one thing left to risk in the chest that made him humanIraj's claim of friendship with Safar.
He almost said it, almost relented, almost opened his lips to speak.
But Iraj said, And finally, there's friendship. My love for you. That I haven't risked. Am I willing? I can't say. The first question I have to ask myself before I do, is if that friendship, that love, is returned? Is it real?
"Or have you been playing me false all these years?"
"You know I haven't, Safar said.
"Do I? Iraj asked, an awful smile growing on his face. Do I now?"
"Of course, you do, Safar said. So we're arguing. We've argued before. We'll argue again. We're different men, so we hold different opinions. But they are merely differences between friends."
"I tested you once long ago, Iraj said. If you recall, you didn't do well at that test."
Safar shrugged. I was a boy in lust, he said. It meant nothing."
"I also said someday I might test you again, Iraj went on. I think that day has finally come."
"You mean the casting? Safar asked. You want me to lie to prove my friendship?"
He was about to say, very well, then, I'll do it. But Iraj shook his head, cutting him off.
"No, he said. You claim that as a matter of honor. I won't ask you to soil it. A man of equal honor would never require such a thing of his friend."
The statement caught Safar by surprise. Was it over? Had he succeeded?
"So here is the test, Safar Timura. The man who claims to be my friend. It's a small test. One that should give you no trouble."
"And that is? Safar asked, alarm rushing back.
"I gave you a woman once, Iraj said. A virgin I greatly desired for myself. Astarias.
"And now I ask the same of you, although she is no virgin and is therefore the lesser gift."
Iraj looked deep into Safar's shocked eyes.
"Give me Lady Fatinah, he said. I want her for myself."
"How can you ask that? Safar said, dumbfounded. You know she is to be my wife."
Iraj shrugged. You can have her back when I'm done with her, he said. And still marry her if you like. There's no shame in following a king in his pleasure.
"You liked Leiria well enough. Now that I think of it, that's two women I've given you. Two, Safar!
"I ask only one in return."
"This is foolish, Iraj! Safar cried. Even if I would consider such a thingwhich I wouldn'tshe's not mine to give. She belongs to herself."
"I imagine Astarias and Leiria felt the same way, Iraj said. But that didn't stop you."
Struck to the quick, Safar struggled for an answer. Before he could, Iraj drew an object from his pocket.
"Here, he said, I'll even sweeten the bargain, although why this should be a bargain is beyond me. Our oath was to give freely, no questions asked."
Iraj dropped the object into Safar's open hand. He glanced down and saw a small golden amulet. A wondrously formed horse dangling from a glittering chain.
"Coralean gave me that a long ago, Iraj said. It was my reward for saving his caravan. You remember, don't you? You received a magical dagger at the same time."
Safar remembered very well. That same dagger, whose image was Nerisa's crest, was tucked in his belt.
"Coralean said someday I would see the perfect horse. A warrior's dream of a horse. And all I had to do was give this amulet to its owner and he would not be able to refuse me.
"Well, I never found that horse, Safar. But never mind, I'm sure it's there."
He clasped Safar's numb hand around the amulet.
"This is yours now, my friend. I give it to you for the woman. Why, it isn't even an equal exchange.
"For what mere woman could ever match such a wondrous steed?"
Silence followed. A silence where murder crept out of the shadows. Safar had anger enough to call it closer. He had the opportunitythey were alone in the royal chamber. And he had the weapons, the dagger in his belt, the blasting magic at his fingertips. He fought down the violence, nearly gagged on it. If he did act, terrible reprisals would certainly follow.
And at this moment Nerisa and Palimak would be making their way to the village at the crossroads, and safety. If Safar slew Protarus they'd never reach it. He had to play for time. It was the only way.
Before he could stumble out some sort of answer, Iraj said, I'm afraid you've waited too long to reply, Safar.
"You failed the test."
Protarus abruptly turned away and strolled toward a small private door leading out of the chamber.
He paused at the door. But I'm not so hard a man that I won't give you another chance, he said.
"Send Lady Fatinah to me tonight. And all will be forgiven."
Then he was gone.
As soon as he'd cleared the palace grounds Safar ducked into an alley and shed his cloak of office. The rich costume, emblazoned with the symbols of Esmir's Grand Wazier, was kicked into a dung heap. Beneath the cloak he'd worn the plain rough tunic and breeches of a common soldier. Then he hurried off, head low, trying not to move so fast he'd draw stares. Even so, he soon came to the vast demon quarters that sprawled all the way to Zanzair's rear gates. Demon females peered up from their washing to watch him go by. Demon kits shouted insults, or crowded close to beg. And big demon males loomed out of taverns to issue drunken challenges at this human worm who dared walk their streets alone.