And that’s when Tiqokh appeared out of nowhere and stepped between us and the dragon as we huddled together on the ground like rats.
“Great Sur, please forgive the boy. He is concerned for the safety of the Dragon Groom, whose future could be the future of us all.”
His voice was calm and clear, and his words hung in the air with their own humid weight. She nudged Tiqokh to the side with her snout, and bent to take a long sniff of Davix.
“THEN I LEAVE THE FATE OF KHARIS’PAR’IH’IN IN YOUR TINY HANDS/SHOULD HARM COME HIS WAY, WE’LL KNOW WHERE THE CONSEQUENCE LANDS.”
Davix stood slowly and bowed. “I will not fail, Great Sur. Does he need any special care?” How he’d pulled this confident voice out, I have no idea, but he was shaking as hard as I was.
“A NIGHT OF PEACE AND WARMING FIRES/IS ALL HIS WOUNDED FLESH REQUIRES.”
She stood on all fours and shook herself like a wet dog. The antique basket her followers had guarded for a century or more flew through the air, splintering into kindling as it hit a nearby wall.
Sur had, apparently, had enough of humans for the day. With a mighty flap of her wings, she took to the air, flying low over the cowering crowd, and disappeared into the fog and darkness.
“Sorry,” I said as I got to my feet, “I don’t know why she’s acting so…so…” And with that, the world faded, or I faded. There was fading.
I woke up, wrapped in the blanket, being carried through the square in Tiqokh’s arms, out of reach of the crowd.
Tiqokh asked Davix, who was walking just behind, “Do I take him to his room?”
“No, we’ll go to the Comfort House.”
“The Comfort House,” I mumbled, smiling in my delirium. “That sounds comfortable…” and faded out again.
Chapter 27: The Absence of Euphemisms
When I woke, it was just Davix and me in a warm, cozy room. Tapestries covered the walls, lit by the gentle glow of torchstone lamps with orange shades. Most of the floor was a big mattress, and I was propped up like a prince on a pile of pillows, covered by a silky, fringed blanket. Across the room, Davix crouched in front of a burning hearth, stirring a pot that hung over glowing coals at the edge of the fire. The smell of whatever he was cooking made my mouth water.
“Hi,” I said, and he looked up and smiled. His eyes reflected the twinkling light of one of the lamps, and the fire made a halo behind his thick hair. “Was I sleeping long?”
“Since sixth bell. Physician-da Raglar just left. I thought he would mix you some medicine, but he said if Sur thinks rest is all you need—”
“And food. Definitely food.”
Davix tipped the contents of his cooking pot into a bowl and brought it to me. I drank it down without a spoon, sticking my face right into the smoky, earthy aroma.
“It’s good. Is this the Comfort House?”
“Yes.”
Through the walls, I heard a long, moaning sound. “What is it? A hospital? It doesn’t look like a hospital.”
He laughed. “That wasn’t a sound of pain, X’risp’hin. Never mind; finish your soup.”
“No, tell me!”
“The Comfort House is a place not under the auspices of any of the houses. Here the People can come together to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.”
On cue, the guy in the next room moaned again, the moan immediately joined by a groan, mixing together into a porny little radio play. Davix reached out a hand and straightened my soup bowl, which I was on the verge of spilling down my front.
“And it’s all guys with guys?”
“On this side. The women’s rooms are in the building’s other wing.”
I did a full-body blush. “And you brought me here to—”
“Oh! No, no. Sur tasked me with your care, but I’m not allowed in your quarters in Etnep House, remember? It’s warm here, and I can cook for you.”
He said all this in one fast exclamation, and I realized I’d embarrassed him, which sort of pleased me. I wasn’t the only doofus in over his head.
“Right, right, I get it.”
“You’re still weak. And I didn’t mean to presume that you would want to…mingle with me…”
“No, right. I mean…not tonight, but…”
We both paused to breathe, looking into opposite corners of the room. I felt his eyes drifting back to my face, and I dared a peek in return.
“Not tonight? You mean, you would be interested in exploring the pleasures of our bodies another time?”
They did not go in for euphemisms in the Realm of Fire. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I would like that…if you would.” The heat of the room and the soup were making my eyes grow heavy again. It was a very strange feeling to be both horny and sleepy. “Are you staying here tonight?”
“I will watch over you, yes.” Tiqokh had said something similar on my first night in the Realm, but this was definitely more romantic. In fact, it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to me.
“We could, uh, cuddle a bit if you like,” I ventured.
“I would like that very much, X’risp’hin. But I will not move to stimulate you sexually until you are stronger.”
I cringed.
“Did I say something wrong? How would you express it in the Realm of Earth?”
“I don’t know. Something like, ‘I promise to be a gentleman.’” The whole conversation qualified as the worst discussion ever about the best idea ever.
He put my soup bowl away and added more wood to the fire. Then he climbed in under the blanket and made me the little spoon. I’m not poet enough to explain how good it felt to have those long arms wrapped around me.
“I promise to be a gentle man,” he said, his voice both intimate and confident. Then he kissed the back of my neck with lips as soft as a summer smile. I thought, no way am I falling asleep and missing a minute of this, but the delicious warmth and the feeling of complete safety conspired within the minute to send me off into blissful, dreamless slumber.
Chapter 28: The Intruder, Eighth Bell
The city was gaudily draped. “toys for children,” the Intruder whispered to the last of the night, “so so.” In his own land, such display would be an embarrassment. Festivals were meant for victory in battle, no decoration necessary but the corpses of the vanquished.
It was laughably easy to slip unnoticed by the few people awake at this hour. Even the so-called Defenders of Realm were oblivious. He could slice off one of their ears and be gone before the sting registered in their slow wits.
The Intruder knew he should temper his arrogance. The plan was not unfolding with precision. Their accomplices were too cautious. But if he and his troop had to compensate for this caution with greater violence, so much the better, so much sweeter the festival of victory to come. soon soon.
PART IV
Sarensikar
Chapter 29: The Day of Devotion
I woke slowly, curled like a cat under the blanket. The fire was embers and the torchstones shuttered, casting the windowless room in the palest of glows. I was alone. The ache in my limbs was gone, and my mind was sharp and clear. Sur was right. I just needed a good night’s sleep to feel like myself again. After the incident in the Matrimonial Tunnels, it was like all my parts had been put back together by a drunken mechanic. If something didn’t fit, he just whacked it in place with a hammer. But through the miracle of sleep, and quite probably my hours spent pressed up against that delicious boy, my whole system seemed to be restored to factory settings.
But where had Davix gone? Maybe he was getting me breakfast? Croissant and three eggs with strong cheese, please. Orange juice and chocolate milk to follow. The door opened, and I felt my smile tug up hydraulically. But it was Grentz. Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound like Grentz was anything less than “Yay!” but you know what I mean. Grentz crossed the room and unshuttered the lights.
“X’risp’hin, you’re awake. That’s great. Get dressed. It’s Sarensikar, and everything’s already starting.” He was
excited, hopping up and down and humming what was probably some holiday tune. Rudolph the Bat-Winged Bidahéna.
“Where’s Davix?” I asked, my voice betraying my disappointment.
“He asked me to take you around today. He’s busy.”
I climbed out of bed, hunched over as I shyly pulled on my clothes, aware that Grentz was watching me unapologetically. As I pulled on my shirt, my hand brushed the extra bony bit on my rib and my enthusiasm dimmed. I wasn’t totally back to normal.
“Busy with what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he finally went back to the Atmospherics Tower.” I wanted to ask more, but Grentz was tapping an anxious staccato with his foot. “You need a bath or anything?” he asked.
That actually sounded good, but I could tell he wanted me to say no, so I did. There was a mirror on the wall, and I checked my face. The last of the discolouration was gone, which was enough of a relief I didn’t even care about the new zit on my cheek. I felt a pang about leaving the cozy room. It was, after all, the first place I’d ever cuddled overnight with a guy. There ought to be a plaque or something. And just then, I saw a big, purple flower sitting on the cool hearth. It had maybe a hundred petals, all curled around to form a ball, open just enough to reveal the copper stamens inside.
“What’s that?” I asked Grentz.
“Oh, nice. Davix left you a Divinity. It’s something friends give each other at Sarensikar, to wish them well in the coming season. Friends and the looped.”
“Looped?”
“He sure is!” He laughed at his own joke, but didn’t explain it.
Grentz helped me pin the Divinity flower to my shirt. I felt like a prom queen with her corsage. For his part, Grentz was wearing the long, orange scarf he’d picked up in the Textiles workshop, and we both looked sharp and ready to party.
The Comfort House was quiet as we exited, although I thought I could still hear low moans coming from behind some of the closed doors. We crossed the building’s foyer, with its mosaic floor whose pattern seemed to be copulating doves, and opened the front door.
“Wow,” I gasped as we walked out into the street. Because it wasn’t there. Nothing was but thick, white fog, so dense I couldn’t see the buildings on the other side of the narrow street.
“Impressive, right?” Grentz said. “Haven’t seen sheep fog this thick in five cycles. Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to stop our fun today. Besides, think how dramatic it’s going to be in three days when Sarensikar ends and the fog blows away.”
I thought about what I’d heard in Tix-etnep-thon-dahé’s office. There was no way of knowing when the fog would lift. Judging by Grentz’s unshakeable conviction, there would be a lot of disappointed people in three days.
But for now, everyone was in a holiday mood, and if there were a few minor collisions as people stepped out of the fog, they laughed them off and called a festive greeting. “May your heart be light!” or “Here comes the sun!” and other phrases that got Earth songs stuck in my head.
Every time the fog parted, I saw more holiday decorations—twists of coloured cloth hanging between buildings, garlands of flowers pinned to doors, and dramatic hanging banners with messages in Tongue of Fire I couldn’t read. Little groups were singing two- and three-part harmony on every corner, accompanied by drums and bells.
Grentz dropped a friendly arm over my shoulders and steered me toward a long line of people that snaked through a square into a street beyond. And that’s where we found Kriz’mig, holding a place for us.
Grentz sighed with relief. “I was scared we wouldn’t make it in time.”
“Blessings of Sarensikar on you, X’risp’hin,” she said, and then to Grentz, “Are you joking? We’ll be standing here until second bell.”
“But it’s worth it, X’risp’hin,” he told me, licking his lips. “They only cook up one batch of skrin’drin a cycle, and then we have to spend every hour in between dreaming of it.”
Kriz’mig ran a finger gently over the petals of my purple flower. “That’s a lovely Divinity. Who gave it to you?”
“Davix,” I said, beaming like an idiot. “Do you know where he is? I-I want to say thank you.”
Grentz laughed and punched my arm. “For last night? You never forget your first time at the Comfort House.”
My face burned. “No! We didn’t…It wasn’t like that.” But he and Kriz’mig clucked like amused chickens, and I knew my denials were falling on deaf ears. Embarrassed by my blushing, I looked away and saw everyone nearby in line was staring at me, openly or shyly.
“May Sarensikar make your heart light, Copper Guest,” a nearby woman said. She was with a little boy of maybe four, and when I smiled at him, he buried his face in the woman’s skirts.
“Thanks.” Immediately, a dozen more people got up the nerve to greet me.
One guy said, “How blessed you are to have visited the Dragon abode.”
“Yeah, totally. Farad’hil is amazing!” I think I tried to say something like “It’s the bomb,” but my mouth couldn’t find an equivalent in dragon tongue.
“Tell us what wonders you witnessed,” he asked. And so, as the line snaked slowly along toward to the skrin’drin vat, a select group got to hear my travel blog about their holiest of sites, a place none of them would ever visit. Years later, I got to see some of my story, twisted by imperfect memories and thousands of retellings, in the DragonLaw. But at the time, I had no understanding how much each of my words weighed.
Skrin’drin was completely worth lining up for. It was a sweet and tangy pudding, with dried fruits in it that exploded with flavour in your mouth. We tried to make our portions last, but it wasn’t humanly possible. By the time we reached the first of the “offering sites,” we had licked our bowls clean.
There were something like ten offering sites in different parks and public squares, and the three of us, along with everybody and their uncle, wandered from one to next, in no particular order. At each, people threw flower petals and dried nuts into the flames for good luck. After the fifth site, I could sing along with the offering theme song:
Mounting fire, take this gift
Lift it on the air
Carry it to Farad’hil
Fill dragon hearts with bounty
At one stop, I started beatboxing over it. The worshippers seemed to appreciate my efforts, but maybe it was just because I was the Dragon Groom. Everything I did was by definition holy and next-level cool. For instance, when we came across some merchants selling religious trinkets, I blessed a few of them and the merchants almost started crying. I could see how easy it would be to get high on your own celebrity.
The fog grew thinner as the day grew warm, and the three of us stopped to check out singing groups, acrobats, and puppet shows. And it would have been a day of perfect happiness, except that I kept overhearing hushed conversations about Twis’wit and Rinby and the Curator guy who killed himself.
“Ill luck,” someone said.
“No, it is demons. The thickening fog is proof.”
“Punishment for heresy.”
“Disrespect for the Fire Revealed!”
“Shh!”
If I leaned in to listen, they shut up, like what they were saying was illegal. Wasn’t that what Stakrat had said? Grav’nan-dahé was cracking down on “superstition.”
I was also less than perfectly happy because I couldn’t find Davix. Lunchtime came and went, but we were too full of skrin’drin and other festival snacks to bother with a sit-down meal. Then Grentz announced he had to go.
“I have my bonding time with one of the sacred priestesses,” he said, and his eyes were practically bugging out with excitement.
“That sounds…fun?” I said. “Is it far?”
“The Greenward Temple is just outside the city gates. It’s been a quarter cycle since my last bonding.”
“Then go,” Kriz’mig said, giving him a push.
Grentz was practically skipping with excitement, calling, “Blessings of
Sarensikar!” as he disappeared into the fog.
When he was gone, I asked Kriz’mig, “What happens at the temple?”
“He will receive instruction in heterosexual congress from a priestess.”
“Okay…” I said, stunned again by how casually they talked about sex on this world.
“Most of us enjoy same-sex pleasure, but for those who are partly or mostly attracted to the opposite sex, it is considered both physiologically and emotionally necessary to experience that domain of physical pleasure.”
“Isn’t a temple a weird place to do it?” I was imagining the big Catholic church where my grandma prayed.
“Why? All human pleasure is sacred and beloved of our Dragon Lords.”
Do they get off on watching us? I wanted to ask. Then it occurred to me that in this world, gay people had an advantage. We could do it whenever we wanted as long as we had a fleshmate to hook up with. The unpaired heteros only got to four times a year.
Kriz’mig said, “And now I have to go, too. I’m sorry. My Master, Lok’lok-sur-nep-dahé, needs my help to decorate the stage for the Prime Magistrate’s sermon. All the People will attend, and it has to be perfect.” She looked around. “Will you be all right on your own? Do you know where you are?”
I did a 360 and realized I had no idea. But not wanting to hold her up, I pretended I was totally oriented. She gave me a big, unchaperoned hug, and then I was alone.
I chose a direction at random and started walking, figuring I’d hit a square pretty soon. But my brave marching soon faltered. Every turn just seemed to take me into more and more remote alleyways. Was I getting paranoid, or were eyes watching me from upper windows? And if they were, why wasn’t anyone calling out “Merry Sarensimas!” or anything? I heard a scraping sound, like someone was dragging a fork along the bricks. Something leaped across the gap between roofs, casting a faint shadow across my path. I walked faster. I wanted to run, but that would make me look like I was scared. To who? I asked myself. Shut up, I answered.
The Dubious Gift of Dragon Blood Page 19
