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their heads, imagining what their own last words would be that evening when their throats would be cut. No point in fighting itnow. Their wills were written and they knew their families would be looked after well. They had enjoyed position and wealth for many years and had always understood that when Joreb died, they would too, if they were in attendance at the time of death.
    They went about their duty now, one checking that no pulse was present whilst the other held a small mirror against the Zar’s mouth and nose. As a final precaution a large pin was drawn from a pouch and his body was pricked repeatedly. Herezah was busy removing the large ring from her husband’s finger. Boaz, his ears ringing from his father’s clear message about his mother, his eyes stinging from tears, could not believe his father had lost the fight.
    He objected to the pin angrily and Pez, sensing his distress, suddenly dropped to his knees before him. As if the dwarf’s sudden movement was a signal, everyone in the chamber came out of the mental paralysis the Zar’s death had prompted and also dropped. They bent to touch their heads on the floor before Boaz, for all in the room knew of Joreb’s decree, that the son of his Absolute Favourite would succeed him.
    Salmeo took longer than anyone to kneel, but after much grunting he too paid the new Zar appropriate homage.
    Boaz was stunned; he wasn’t ready to accept this new role, even though he had been groomed for many years to take his father’s crown. If notfor the sly wink that Pez gave him from under a short arm, he might have fled the chamber.
    ‘Your Majesty,’ they cried as one. ‘Hail the Zar!’ They repeated it several times until the new King of Kings commanded them to stop.
    Into the instant silence that followed Pez broke wind, his rear pointing suspiciously towards the new Valide Zara and her bejewelled Vizier. Boaz knew this sort of lewd behaviour should have made his father sit up from death and roar with laughter. Joreb had so loved Pez’s wickedness. Boaz felt a nervous flutter of amusement threaten to explode from his own throat but he controlled it with effort and focused on his scowling, clearly offended parent. He ignored the mortified Vizier who deserved all the bad smells that came his way.
    ‘Mother,’ he said. ‘Rise.’
    And she did, first crawling forward—as one should to the Zar—before straightening on her knees to place the diamond-encrusted emerald ring onto her son’s finger. She nodded reassurance before bowing her head over her son’s hand and kissing the ring fervently.
    ‘My lord Zar,’ she said, pride catching in her throat. ‘How may I serve?’
    ‘Hail, Valide Zara,’ Boaz said and Herezah basked in the words she had longed to hear for so many years. Now, as the Zar’s mother, her very name would strike fear into the hearts of those around her.
    She took their obeisance, noticed the wry smile on Salmeo’s normally unreadable face, and gave the first of many orders as the most powerful woman in the land.
    ‘Rise all,’ she said, turning to Tariq. ‘Where is Lazar?’
    ‘Waiting, Valide Zara,’ the Vizier replied, fully recovered from the dwarf’s insult and barely able to contain his glee at the thought of the potential riches and power spreading out before him. Hail the Valide! He had aligned himself well.
    ‘Admit him alone,’ she ordered and resisted smiling at the notion that Lazar would share this moment of high joy with her. ‘The passing of the old Zar is a secret until I say differently.’
    The physicians were instructed to tidy the body of their ruler and were laying out the formerly rumpled sheets neatly over his corpse as the tall, sun-browned Spur entered the chamber.
    ‘Lazar,’ Boaz said, his expression lightening. This was the only other person who walked the palace corridors whom he could truly consider a friend.
    The Spur spared only a fleeting glance towards the prone figure on the bed, for his shock at