Emissary by Fiona McIntosh

ever now.
    Boaz sighed. ‘All right, it was Tariq.’
    ‘Indeed. I think now the Valide would have to all but make an appointment to meet him face to face.’
    ‘She’s in the harem. He can’t—’
    ‘Don’t make excuses, my Zar, you know I’m right. And all the time that he’s been curiously withdrawing from the Valide, he has invested that time ingratiating himself with you.’
    ‘It is his task, his duty as Vizier.’ Boaz was silently angered by the defensiveness of his tone.
    Pez shrugged. ‘I suppose so,’ he said and began humming to himself.
    ‘You’re infuriating, Pez.’
    ‘Oh, but that’s my task, my duty as your royal buffoon, my Zar,’ Pez replied, echoing the Zar’s words, but there was no humour now.
    Boaz sensed it and growled his displeasure. ‘I won’t have you treat me like a child.’
    Pez rounded on him. ‘Then don’t act like one!’
    It was the first time in his life that Boaz had been scolded in such stern fashion by his friend and it was obvious from his stormy gaze that he did not take it lightly. ‘How dare you,’ he said, a voice as wintry as though it were coming from the Shagaire icecaps.
    Whether Pez had intended such provocation or not, it seemed he wasn’t going to renege on his insult. ‘I dare, my Zar, because I care about you.’
    ‘Is this how you spoke to my father?’ Boazsnarled, truly angry with Pez for the first time in their relationship.
    ‘I had no need to.’
    ‘And you will never have an opportunity to address me so again.’
    Pez nodded, the realisation of the consequences of his firm attitude shown in his sad expression. ‘Then Tariq has won, my Zar. Your father despised the Vizier…and for good reason.’
    ‘Give me that reason!’ Boaz bellowed at the dwarf. He sounded almost desperate.
    Pez would not give him satisfaction. ‘I shouldn’t have to. You should feel it as I do,’ Pez said and it felt like an accusation to Boaz.
    The accusation hurt and Boaz reacted in a manner as if stung. ‘Begone, dwarf. I’ll choose to surround myself with whom I want.’
    Casting caution out of the open window towards the Faranel, Pez gave his final warning. ‘Yes, that’s why I fear for you, my Zar. You should dismiss him as your father always wanted to. You can, you know, because your reign is still young. Mark my words, Zar Boaz, you will regret it if you don’t. I am gone, Majesty,’ he said and, despite his awkward gait, he managed a noble air as he walked towards the door.
    Boaz spoke to his childhood friend’s back. ‘I shall summon you should I ever want to see you again, Pez. Don’t visit me without invitation.’
    Pez turned and nodded once. There was something achingly final in the way their gazesmet, then locked, before Pez dipped his glance in required deference to the Zar and removed himself fully from the chamber.
    Boaz sat down heavily as the door closed. His heart was racing and the painful sense of being cut away from something secure and familiar was his new companion. He had never felt as lonely as he did in this moment with the words of Pez echoing in his mind.
    Pez felt hollow. That certainly didn’t go according to plan. He had hoped to use the element of his surprise arrival to bluff his way through any question of his absence. But it seemed the Zar was already agitated about other events and Pez suspected his timing was ill-conceived. It was his own fault, though; he should never have ignored his duties to Boaz. His cheeks burned with the humiliation of what he had brought down upon himself. The frightening prospect that he no longer had the ear of the Zar—or his indulgence—took a strong hold over him. For the first time in over two decades, he was vulnerable.
    Flying in had proved to be imprudent. What had begun as a jest to surprise the Zar had turned ugly and now downright dangerous. Since the argument, he had travelled blindly, his legs moving as if on memory rather than direction, but found himself crossing the