Free Goddess by Fiona McIntosh Page A

a man, his father rarely present and a royal soldier his next best option. ‘Majesty,’ he said, ‘forgive—’
    ‘Don’t, I beg you. You have our collective gratitude for returning the Valide and the Grand Vizier to Percheron alive. I can see what it cost you to save my mother. I can only imagine the more hidden effects.’
    Inwardly something nagged at Lazar. Boaz’s words seemed genuine enough, yet they carried an uncomfortable undercurrent. ‘What news, Majesty?’ he asked. His mind was beginning to swim. He must ask Herezah not to wear such a heady fragrance if she was going to look after him. Look after him? How ridiculous. The Valide, of all people!
    ‘I do bring news. Good news,’ Boaz said, his bearing changing to the juvenile look of a boy with a secret.
    ‘Boaz, tell us,’ his mother urged.
    ‘Pez is returned!’ the Zar exclaimed triumphantly.
    ‘Gods be praised!’ Lazar said, relieved that he no longer had to keep Pez secret.
    The Valide kept her own counsel, although her eyes showed she was more bemused by her son’s childish pleasure than delighted by the news itself.
    ‘I told the Grand Vizier this is the first reason I’ve had to smile in a while,’ Boaz admitted.
    ‘I’m pleased for you, son,’ the Valide finally deigned to say. ‘Keep him away from here, though. Lazar is not well enough for the dwarf’s antics.’
    ‘I don’t believe Pez will be up to any antics, Mother,’ Boaz said. ‘He’s lucky to be alive and doing little more than drooling at present,’ he lied, turning to wink at Lazar.
    ‘How?’ Lazar asked. It was the most he could say amidst his dizziness and nausea but knew Pez would be expecting the Zar to craft his lie fully.
    Boaz gave a confusing version of events for his mother’s benefit, just enough to suggest that he had managed to make some sense of what the dwarf had been through although most of it had been gibberish. ‘The fact is, he did survive, and that’s all that matters to me,’ he said to his mother, whose eyes were filled with query.
    ‘Tens of men died,’ she exclaimed, shaking her head. ‘How did that pathetic, befuddled dwarf survive?’
    ‘None of us will ever know.’
    ‘How did he have the sense to know which direction Percheron lay?’ She turned to Lazar who had already closed his eyes. This conversation was lies within lies: he was lying to Boaz about Pez, Boaz was lying to his mother about the dwarf, and Pez, he was sure, had lied to Boaz as well.
    ‘He muttered something about the Khalid,’ Boaz said.
    Lazar, keeping his eyes closed as much to steady himself on what felt like a floating bed, took up the reins. ‘They are desert men. They would have known him from our party and perhaps guided him back. That would explain how he found his way.’
    ‘Yes, I think that’s likely what occurred.’ Boaz turned back to his mother and changed the subject. ‘So, do you know what to do with Lazar? Apparently he’s meant to be given a dose of pure drezden.’
    ‘I’ve already taken it,’ Lazar said. ‘That was the last of the stocks I had and what has kept me alive thus far. I will need more of the pure poison for the future but now I have to start drinking the tea. The delusions and restlessness will begin any moment.’
    ‘Mother, here, luck is on our side,’ Boaz said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a scruffy parchment. ‘They found this on Pez. I think he must have stolen it from the belongings of the priestess Zafira. It tells you how to make this tea of drezden.’
    ‘Ah, how convenient. Again the dwarf triumphs,’ Herezah said coolly. Nevertheless she took the parchment, glancing at it briefly. ‘I can ask Salmeo to organise this.’
    ‘No,’ Boaz said. ‘I command you not to involve Salmeo in anything remotely connected with our Spur’s welfare. If you are going to take on his nursing, Mother, I insist he is tended to only by the people I appoint.’
    ‘Why, Boaz?’
    ‘You know why. Either it’s