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.
Safar paid them no mind, averting the eyes of the females, shaking off the young beggars and sidestepping the challengers.
His goal was a small shabby stable near the rear gates. He'd risen before dawn that morning, made a few hasty additions to the plan he and Nerisa had discussed the previous night, then gone home to pack some necessities before his servants arose. Afterwards he'd taken his best horse to the stable by the gates. He'd left it with the sleepy-eyed stablemaster, along with enough coins to ensure the animal's care, but not so many as to arouse suspicion.
The whole time he'd prayed luck would be with him and the preparations would be unnecessary. He'd thought the first sign of that luck was Leiria's absence either at the mansion or his home. He'd assumed she was attending one of her training sessions"the transparent ruse Protarus and Kalasariz had used so their spy could report to them and receive her instructions.
As he approached the stable he thought at least that one bit of luck had held. If it hadn't he would've been forced to incapacitate Leiria in that same alley where he'd shed his cloak. Or, worse, be required to slay her. Safar had strong doubts he'd be able to do such a thing, no matter what the cost. Spy or not, Leiria had crept into his heart long ago and held a small piece of it.
There was no one about when he entered the ramshackle building. He called for the stablemaster, but no one answered. So he fished out a few coins, laid them on a work bench within easy sight and picked his way to the back where his horse and gear waited.
He froze in front of the stall. His horse was already saddled, bags strapped to the back, sheathed sword hanging by its belt from the pommel. On either side of his mount were two othersboth saddled and ready. But ready for whom? He moved closer and suffered another jolt. Both horses were his!