Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

A sentry closed the door and they turned, each reacting in a different manner when they saw Safar standing there.

The first, Kalasariz, was cheery. Good morning, Lord Timura, he said. I hope this day finds you well."

"Well enough, thank you, Safar said, nodding at the hammer-faced spymaster.

The second, King Luka, was arrogant. Grand Wazier, he said, only those two words and a nod of his demonly head noting Safar's presence.

Safar nodded in return, but said nothing.

The third, Lord Fari, was nervous. How good to see you, Lord Timura, he said. It's been long since I've had the pleasure of your company. Perhaps you would grace my humble home for dinner some evening?"

Safar dipped his head in a slight bow. It would be an honor to be your guest, My Lord, he said.

Fari quivered, a jolt of alarm showing in his yellow eyes. Quite, quite, the old demon said. Of course, you are always so busy with your duties as Grand Wazier I suspect, alas, it will be a long time before you are able to attend."

"I'm never too busy for you, Lord Fari, Safar said. He couldn't resist the tease.

Fari clacked his talons together, distressed. I'll have my clerk speak to your clerk, he said, and arrange a convenient evening."

"Thank you, My Lord, Safar said, making another slight bow. I eagerly await your kind invitation."

The sentry appeared, motioning for Safar to enter the king's chambers. He made his polite farewells to the three and went inleaving Leiria waiting in the hallway outside.

Iraj was at his desk, looking over some reports. At least he appeared to be. His head was down, paper documents were in front of him, but his focus was on one spot instead of sweeping across words or numbers, betraying his pretense of being totally absorbed in his royal duties.

Safar cleared his throat and Iraj's head came up. He smiled. But his eyes seemed cold.

"Ah, there you are, Safar, he said. Get a drink. Make yourself comfortable."

Safar sat and poured himself a cup of brandy from the spirits service on the desk.

Iraj pretended to go back to the report, but his bejeweled fingers gave him away, rap, rap, rapping on the arm of the chair.

Finally, Iraj nodded, slapped the report down and raised his head to regard Safar.

"This is a little difficult for me, Safar, he said. But I need to speak to you man to manand as a friend."

Safar felt the stone idol glow warmer, uncomfortably so.

He smiled, saying, Always, Iraj."

"It's about this marriage request of yours to the Lady Fatinah."

"What about it?"

"Are you sure this is wise, old friend? Iraj asked. I understand she is a beauty. And I congratulate you on your taste. But marriage!"

"I love her, Iraj, Safar said. In Kyrania, marriage almost always follows love."

Iraj gave a nervous laugh. That was Kyrania, he said. You're no longer a common potter's lad. You are the Grand Waziersecond only to me in importance. You can have any woman you want. For your bed, or for marriage for that matter."

"I know that, Iraj, Safar said. And it's Lady Fatinah I choose for both."

"But she may not be suitable for you, Iraj said, beautiful though she may be."

"To me she's more than any potter's lad, as you put it, could possibly deserve. Meaning, she loves me too. What other requirement should I ask of a woman?"

"Here's what I think, Iraj said, leaning across the desk. This is a mere romantic attachment. You know you have a weakness for such things. Remember Astarias? You thought the sun rose and set on her. You declared your love to the mountains. And even asked her to be your bride.

"She laughed, if you recall."

"This one didn't laugh, Safar said.

Iraj studied Safar for a moment then, All I'm asking is that you reconsider."

Safar started to speak. But Iraj raised a hand to stop him.

"I know you're stubborn, Safar, he said, so don't answer just now. Think on it a day or two and we'll talk again.

"I'm asking you to do this for me as a friend."

Safar bit off automatic refusal. Very well, Iraj, he said. I'll do as you ask."

He wouldn't change his mind, but agreement gave him time to figure out what was wrong and how to get around it.

Safar tried make a joke of the situation. If Auntie Iraj wants a two-day cooling off period, she'll get it."

Protarus didn't respond. His eyes seemed glazed, as if he were elsewhere.

They snapped back to alertness. Well, that's one problem dealt with easily enough, he said, forcing a light manner. On to the next."

"Which is?"

"I'm afraid it's another delicate matter, my friend, he said. So try to keep an open mind, as you did before."

"I will."

"It's this business about the casting, Iraj said. Asking the gods what the future holds."

Inwardly, Safar groaned. Outwardly, he let a wry smile play across his face.

"So that's what my colleagues were doing here, he said. Why, I'd thought they'd all gathered to sing my praises to their king."

Iraj frowned. No one said anything against you, he said, curt. I wouldn't allow such a thing."

Safar recognized the lie for what it was. Of course, you wouldn't, Iraj, he said. After all, we're blood oath brothers. And no man of honor would let another speak against his blood oath brother."

Iraj gave him the steadiest of gazes. Never, he agreed. His cheek twitched. So he added, firmer still, Never!"

"So what new suggestion did my friends have about the casting? Safar asked.

"Fari proposed a compromise, Iraj said. Make it two years, instead of one. My subjects will take just as much heart at that. Two years in not such a long time to wait for the Age of Great Blessings."

"Oh, so it's got a name now, does it? Safar said. The Age of Great Blessings?"

"Call it anything you like, Iraj said. So long as it sounds positive. The point is, we want to sayquite firmlythat things will get better by and by, if only we make suitable sacrifices to the gods and be patient."

"I'll give you the same answer I gave before, Iraj, Safar said. I won't lie. An extra year won't make it less of one. Or three, or five, even."

Protarus looked alarmed. Five years! he said. You don't think it'll last that long, do you?"

"I have no idea, Safar said. And that's the point. No one does. Not a bone caster, entrails reader or stargazer in your kingdom could say. All the signs are blank. As if there were no gods listening."

"That's ridiculous, Iraj said, features flushing. Of course they're listening. Why else am I on this throne? Who guided me here but the gods? There's the Demon Moon. The comet ascending. Your vision long ago. All those things point to a decree from the Heavens themselves!"

Safar knew better than to argue. Iraj had fixed on this divine destiny idea when they were boys. To dispute it would be pointlessand dangerous.

"Whatever the reason, he said, the gods are silent just now."

"Just say it for them, then, Iraj urged. Say all will be well in two years. It's as good a guess as any."

"I can't, Safar said.

"It would offend your precious honor, Iraj scoffed.

"Something like that, Safar answered.

"Fari doesn't have that problem, Iraj said. He told me he used to do such things for Manacia all the time."

"And look where that got Manacia, Safar said.

Iraj glared at him. That has nothing to do with it, he said. I was talking about honor, not Manacia."

"Well, if it doesn't trouble Fari to lie, Safar said, then let him do it. He can oversee the whole thing. Feasts. Sacrifices. Prayers. Then the big lie. Let me know what date you decide on so I can be sure to be absent."

"That's damned foolishness! Iraj shouted. You're my Grand Wazier! Everyone will think you're opposed and are making yourself absent to show disfavor."

"That does pose a problem, doesn't it? Safar said.