More Tales of the Southern Kingdoms (One Volume Edition)

by Barbara G. Tarn

  Harish didn't mind the noise. Sometimes sleeping in a wagon and listening to nature's voice was even worse – like during thunderstorms – and he had grown accustomed to falling asleep whenever or wherever he could.

  The room had only the double bed they were lying on, a jug and basin, and a chamberpot, but it was more than what he was used to. He'd washed in rivers or streams all his life, and slept on a blanket with four or five other young men in a much smaller space, so the room felt like a luxury to him.

  He rolled over to see if Kartik was awake – of course he was. The elder didn't seem to need as much sleep as he did. Harish blessed the day the raven-haired gypsy had walked into the camp and asked Master Zahin if he needed another performer. Kartik's kindness and independence had become a role-model for him, turning the scrawny teen into a healthy and well-built young man.

  "Ready for another day of shows?" Kartik asked.

  Harish nodded. Since they didn't own a mirror, they took turns at the basin and then shaved each other before dressing. Harish took the travel bag where they'd put all the props, moving their other possessions to the other pouch, which they would leave in the room, and they left for their daily tour of the stages incorporated in most of Jevina's squares.

  To perform on the main square, directly in front of the palace, was an honor they hadn't achieved in the ten days they'd spent in the city. Performers on that stage were invited by the king or a member of his court, and nobody had approached Kartik yet. But their names were spreading through town, since the pair could perform in more than one discipline.

  Sometimes they performed with others. Harish walked the tightrope with a group of almond-eyed funambulists or danced with a group of Akkorans, who even had two belly-dancers who covered their faces. Harish had his own version of the belly dance, so they made a nice trio on stage.

  Sometimes he was Kartik's target boy, sometimes he danced to his songs, sometimes they juggled together, earning enough money to eat properly and pay the room rent. But there was no need to sell his ass to lustful rich men to survive, which made Harish feel clean and happy for the first time in his life.

  At night he nestled against Kartik and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so tired by his daily physical labor – he would like to explore other things with his savior. Although he wasn't sure Kartik would want his body, since he knew how many people had already used it.

  Sometimes Harish wished he could go back in time. In his imagination, instead of Master Zahin, a younger, but already independent, Kartik would show up at the orphanage, look at the sickly boy he was, and take him away on a wondrous adventure.

  Harish didn't know when his gratitude had turned to love, but he hoped the new life in Jevina would allow him to open up with Kartik and tell him how he felt. Who knew how wonderful his life would become if he discovered that Kartik loved him as much as he did...

  ***

  Kartik stared at the dignitary in disbelief. He thought the man had knocked on their door to offer a spot on the main stage of Jevina, but the dignitary's request had been for far more than a simple street performance.

  "Could you repeat, please?" he asked.

  "You are requested to perform in the great hall of the palace, for the king and his family," the plump man said, in the same neutral tone as before.

  Kartik heard Harish's gasp of surprise and quickly glanced at him.

  "The king has heard of our show?" he insisted.

  The dignitary's lips twitched in a repressed smile.

  "Even though the king doesn't leave the palace very often, and certainly not to mingle with the crowd of commoners, that doesn't mean he doesn't know what happens in his city," he said. "Yes, he has heard of your prowess as knife-thrower and the grace of your target boy when he performs the Akkoran belly dance. The Akkoran dancers will be by his side for the musical part of the show."

  "Oh." Kartik's enthusiasm faded. He'd been in town long enough to have heard the rumors about King Vijay's passion for cute young men. A couple of fellow performers had warned him to keep a low profile – if the king learned of his handsome "aide"...

  He sighed, staring at his feet. He couldn't refuse the king's offer, could he?

  "Can we skip the dancing part and just do the juggling?" he asked.

  The plump man shook his head with a sympathetic look on his face.

  "Is there a way out of this?" Kartik insisted, feeling trapped already.

  "I'm afraid not," the other answered gravely. "You will go on stage tomorrow at noon. You're not the only show, so you might get lucky. If another young man catches the king's fancy before Harish hits the stage..."

  Kartik sighed again and nodded. "Thank you," he muttered. "We'll be there."

  The man bowed his head and left. Kartik turned to look at Harish who stood against the wall of their room, quiet as usual. The acrobat always let Kartik do the talk with strangers – and not only because Kartik was older, he suspected. Harish was very shy and introverted, having been a slave for most of his life. An itinerant jester's slave, but still someone's property. And Master Zahin hadn't been very good to that specific property, even though he brought in more money alone than all the others put together.

  "Try to underplay everything," Kartik said. "Pretend you're still learning. Make mistakes. Don't let the king notice you."

  Harish nodded slowly, serious. He knew very well what it meant if the king noticed him.

  The next day Harish wore a stage costume that covered his body more than usual, tried to hide his nimbleness as much as he could, but when the music started, he just gave in to the dance and seemed to forget where he was.

  Kartik cursed under his breath. Since he didn't dance, he sat with the musicians, playing with them, and noticed when Harish slipped into his love for dance. Worried, Kartik glanced at the king.

  The turbaned ruler of Lakeshi was transfixed. And if one followed his gaze, it wasn't the Akkoran dancers that had spellbound him. It was Harish's movements that enthralled him.

  Kartik closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

  ***

  Harish's smile vanished when he saw Kartik's frown. He was still catching his breath after the dance, but had rushed to Kartik expecting the usual smile of approval.

  Then he realized where he was – the marble and sculptures and silks and damasks surrounding him – and gasped.

  "I'm sorry!" he apologized. "You think the king noticed me?"

  "Definitely," Kartik answered through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

  Harish blushed under the scolding stare and averted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling miserable.

  "Let's go."

  Kartik grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the crowded great hall. But before they reached the palace door, the guards stopped them and the dignitary joined them with his hands folded on his prominent belly, much like when he'd showed up at their door.

  "The king wishes you to join the palace entertainers," he said. "A servant has been sent to gather your things and pay off your room. If you follow me, I shall show you your new quarters."

  Harish heard Kartik curse under his breath, but they both followed the plump man, escorted by the guards.

  Through stately corridors they reached a wing of the palace that was less decorated than the great hall.

  "The entertainers' quarters," the dignitary said. "Make yourselves at home."

  Kartik and Harish entered the big room – a dormitory barely divided by curtains. Men of all ages chattered on the cots, mostly ignoring the newcomers. A servant waved at them from the other side of the long rectangular room and pointed at two beds where their travel bags were already waiting. As soon as they reached him, he bowed and left.

  "We had more privacy in our room," Harish muttered, glancing nervously around him.

  "Do you really think you will sleep here?" Kartik asked bluntly, avoiding eye contact.

  Harish moaned in frustration and slumped down onto one of
the cots. What was he going to do? His freedom had lasted but a fortnight. He wanted to beat himself unconscious. How could Kartik save him from the king's lust? He can't. And it's all my fault. Kartik will leave me here, and I will die of shame.

  He hid his face in his hands. He was so sick of it all...

  The bed gave under Kartik's weight as he sat next to him and pulled Harish closer.

  "I'm sorry, Harish," Kartik whispered. "I didn't want this to happen ever again. I will find a way out of this golden cage, though, I promise."

  Harish hugged him and gulped down his tears. Kartik caressed his hair.

  "Be strong," he continued. "Tomorrow, I'll take us out of here."

  Harish sniffed and pulled away to look at Kartik's face. Of course, Kartik needed time to plan their escape. He'd never been in a palace before – neither of them had.

  Harish slowly nodded. "I'll do the king's bidding," he said with a shaky voice. "But then take me away from here."

  "I will," Kartik promised, determined. "Nobody will touch you against your will ever again."

  Harish's lips trembled into a smile. You can touch me anytime... he thought wistfully.

  But his voice didn't come out.

  ***

  Before the lights went out in the entertainers' dormitory, a servant came to summon Harish. The young man gave Kartik a dismayed glance, then followed the servant.

  Kartik lay sleepless on his cot while he tried to think of a way out from the palace – and tried not to think of Harish in the king's arms. He didn't think Harish could last until the king's lust subsided.

  To get out of the palace they'd need their abilities – climbing walls, mostly, or trees. They could escape from the walled palace gardens first thing in the morning and be out of town before lunchtime. Then they would head for the jungle and stay put for a while.

  Kartik thought they could build a hut and live of hunting, away from people. If he could throw knives, he could learn archery, or they could learn to catch fish. Maybe they could find a small village and settle there – not as jesters, but as hunters.

  Eventually he dozed off, but by the time the sun came up, he hadn't slept much. Harish came back with the first light and instead of lying on the next bed, he came to nestle against him, even though that didn't leave them any room to move.

  Kartik held him tight and felt him sigh.

  "Are you all right?" he whispered in the still-quiet dormitory. Everyone else was still asleep.

  Harish nodded.

  "Do you need to sleep for a while?" he insisted, knowing Harish made him look like an insomniac.

  "I'm fine." Harish squeezed him. "You want to go now?"

  "It's probably better to go before the palace awakes."

  Harish pulled back to look him in the eyes.

  "The guards are already awake. I saw them coming back here."

  "I know, but we're not going out the main door," Kartik replied with a quick smile.

  Harish's eyes widened. "We're not?"

  Kartik forced himself to let go of Harish's warm body.

  "Let's go," he whispered with a wink.

  Hope filled Harish's gray eyes and he promptly obeyed. They quietly gathered their things and tiptoed out of the dormitory. They wandered through a few corridors, hiding behind columns whenever they heard the guards patrolling nearby, until they finally found a garden.

  They quickly climbed a tree to look beyond the walls, and found the perfect escape. One wall of the garden bordered a narrow service alley. They climbed it, jumping down on the other side. They looked left and right, then rushed towards what felt like the shortest way out of town.

  The sun had fully risen by the time they ran away from the outskirts of the capital and followed the river into the luxuriant jungle. As they tried to find a way through the lush undergrowth, Kartik explained his plan of living as hunters or fishermen in some small village, and he saw Harish brighten.

  "Can we stop now? I'm tired and hungry and I need rest," Harish pleaded a little later. They had found a narrow track, and Kartik hoped it led somewhere.

  "I don't think we should stop in the middle of the jungle, not even in plain daylight," he replied. "Come on, our destination can't be far."

  He was right. Moments later they found a small temple under curtains of foliage. Inside was a single room barely bigger than Master Zahin's wagons, but it was clean, and the small altar still had offerings of flowers and food in front of the flat carving of a goddess with many arms.

  "There must be a village nearby," Kartik said as they sat on the stone floor. "We will find it before night." He absently gave Harish a piece of flat-bread he'd saved from their dinner, and studied his surroundings. He was a nomad, but he had enjoyed having a room and a steady roof over his head in Jevina. Maybe he could adapt to a settled life.

  He looked at Harish who was wolfing down the bread and smiled.

  "Gods, you're hungry! Do you want more?"

  Harish nodded with his mouth full. Kartik fished for another flat-bread. His own stomach was in a tight knot, so he wouldn't need it.

  Harish seemed to realize Kartik wasn't eating, and offered the second flat-bread, but Kartik refused it. He waited until Harish was done before speaking.

  "Do you want to talk about last night?"

  Harish darkened and his eyes dropped to the floor.

  "No," he whispered.

  "Did he hurt you?" Kartik insisted, worried.

  Harish smiled ruefully. "No. I can't be hurt anymore."

  "Do you still feel something?"

  "I try not to." Harish shrugged. "I retreat in my mind and let them do what they want." He hugged his knees and put his chin on them.

  Kartik sighed.

  "I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again," he promised, more to himself than anything. If he thought of all the men who had soiled Harish with their lust... He clenched his fists. That would make him a king murderer if he followed through with his desire to hurt them all.

  Harish's hand glided on his and he relaxed his fingers. He took the malformed hand in both his and kissed it.

  "What did the king say about this?" he asked.

  Harish winced. "He found it... entertaining."

  "Entertaining... how?" He stared puzzled at Harish's face.

  Harish retrieved his hand and hid it under his armpit, turning his head towards the temple door, obviously unwilling to discuss it. What could have the king found to be so entertaining about the malformed hand?

  "I'm tired," Harish said, lying down and curling up in fetal position.

  Kartik considered holding him, but even a light caress made Harish shiver, so he just sat with his hands in his lap.

  "Sweet dreams," he said, feeling dejected.

  ***

  Harish was finally happy. They'd found the village of hunters and fishermen and had been welcomed in the small community. They'd built a mud hut next to the others and moved in. Kartik went hunting every morning and Harish was learning how to skin and prepare the small animals his hunter brought back. The women of the village giggled at his first clumsy attempts, but then showed him how to do it.

  Days flew by as they made new friends, but more and more Harish looked forward to sunset, when they retired in their hut and locked the world outside. He often found himself hugging Kartik to sleep, and new waves of desire washed over him as their bodies came in contact. Kartik smelled good. Kartik's hands were gentle.

  And then one night his lips sought Kartik's skin and found the clean-shaven cheek and neck first. He heard Kartik gasp, but kept sucking and licking, trying to reach Kartik's mouth without moving his body, so well-nestled against his friend's.

  "Harish..." Kartik's voice was hoarse. "What are you doing?"

  Harish's bliss faded and he stopped. He'd hoped Kartik would feel like he did, but obviously it was brotherly love that had brought them to the village in the jungle, and nothing more. He suppressed a sigh.

  "Harish." Kartik's voice was more steady now. "Why
did you do that?"

  "Because I want you," he grumbled, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I'm so unworthy!"

  "No! You're not unworthy." Kartik squeezed him tighter. "But... I thought you didn't like being touched after all the abuse."

  "I don't," he admitted. "I don't like lecherous rich men using my body. But you're not one of them."

  His hand glided over Kartik's body and met an unexpected bump. Startled, Harish pulled up to look at Kartik's face in the pale light of their single oil lamp. Kartik was hard!

  "Do you want me?" he asked, hopeful.

  "I don't want to hurt you." Again the unsteady voice – Kartik struggling with his own desire.

  "I know you won't hurt me!" Harish grinned. "I love you. Please, do what you want with me!"

  Kartik hesitated, caressing Harish's cheek. Then his hand slid on Harish's neck to pull him down.

  Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss that took Harish's breath away.

  He'd lost his virginity a long time ago, but suddenly in Kartik's arms he felt like a virgin again. All the men and women who had used him vanished from his mind. Kartik was the first man touching him, a man worth living with or dying for.

  Harish was happy – and madly in love for the first time in his life – as he came in Kartik's arms.

  ***

  And then the king found them. He was out on a tiger hunt with his court when he spotted Kartik. The jester-turned-hunter tried to run away, but was quickly captured by the guards.

  "The acrobat can't be too far," the king said when Kartik refused to tell him where Harish was.

  There weren't many villages in the jungle and it didn't take long to the Royal Guard to find Harish. Both were tied up and put on elephant back to be taken to Jevina with the king.

  "I'm sorry," Kartik muttered. "I had sworn it would never happen again."

  "You can't kill the king," Harish replied ruefully. "If he touches me, I'll kill myself."

  "No!" Kartik protested, looking at his lover seated behind him. "Don't do it, Harish! He'll get bored and will release you. If you're dead, how can you come back to me?"