by Astrid Amara
May your plentiful shores feed us, may your blue skies
oversee us!
Oh Tiwari, as long as I can see the sea,
I see who I’m supposed to be!”
“You’re not singing!” Linaz scolded him.
“Sing! Sing!” A chorus broke out across the table. Jandu turned bright red. He couldn’t sing at all. He barely mumbled prayers in public. But the chorus of would-be fans would not relent, and he was drunk enough to let Keshan’s mother drag him upwards to stand on the table.
This alone would be worthy of a beating in the Paran house. Standing on the table? And yet here was Keshan’s very own mother, kicking off her shoes and standing with him, wrapping her bony arms around Jandu’s waist and dancing with him on the table as she repeated the lyrics. The musicians began again, and Jandu just decided to hell with it. He would sing.
“Oh, Tiwari, Tiwari, land of… lyrics screamed …” Jandu filled in. The audience rolled on the floor. “May your frightening shores feed me, may your rocks… not thrash me into smithereens as I try vainly to escape your horrendous undertow… As long as I can see the sea, I really need to pee…”
Even Iyestar cried tears of laughter by the time Jandu was done with his terrible rendition of their state anthem. Keshan kicked off his shoes, one of them flying out to hit one of the attendants in the shin. Keshan ran over and apologized to the woman, and then dragged her on the table with him, forcing her to dance.
As the tempo slowed, Keshan switched partners with his mother, so that he and Jandu could dance together and his mother danced with the servant. No one seemed to find this the least bit scandalous. Keshan pulled Jandu closer. Jandu wanted to kiss Keshan then and there, but didn’t. This was enough. Enough to get arrested in Prasta. And enough to ease his self-doubt over his own inverted nature, make him feel better, feel alive.
By the time the music stopped, Jandu was so completely drunk he could barely stand. Keshan put his arm around him and weaved them up the grand staircase towards Jandu’s room, which was directly below Keshan’s quarters at the top of the tower.
They sang bawdy lyrics loudly until Ajani reappeared, blocking their way on the landing of the stair.
She seemed more beautiful than Jandu remembered. Maybe it was being in her own home. But Ajani had a relaxed, carefree look about her, her hair down loose around her round face. Her scowl, however, was the same scowl she had favored Jandu with every chance she got in Prasta.
She bowed to Jandu, and Jandu brought his hands together in the sign of peace.
“Ajani,” Jandu said. “You look lovely tonight.”
Ajani smirked coldly. “Thank you. I see you two have been falling for Iyestar’s tricks.”
Keshan waved his hand in every direction. “Oh, don’t blame Iyestar, he was just happy to see Jandu too.” Keshan pinched Jandu’s cheek.
Ajani crossed her arms. “I’ve been waiting for you, in my chamber,” she said quietly. She looked pointedly at Jandu. “Good night, Prince.”
Jandu frowned. “But Keshan and I aren’t done drinking yet.” He laughed at the sound of his own voice, which cracked and wavered.
Keshan nodded. “It’s true. I promised Jandu a night cap, and then I will come to you directly, sweet princess.”
Ajani didn’t move. “You—”
“—Shh.” Keshan let go of Jandu and put his arms around Ajani. “When have I ever lied to you?” He whispered in her ear.
Ajani rolled her eyes. “Yesterday. And the day before. You lie to me every day, Keshan.”
“But you still love me.”
“Fool that I am.” But Ajani softened at Keshan’s words. Her coquettish expression sickened Jandu.
Keshan leaned towards Ajani’s face, his lips just above her ear. “Let me make sure Jandu is settled for the night, and then I’ll be there as soon as I can, all right?”
Ajani closed her eyes. “All right.” She wandered off as if in a daze.
When she was gone Keshan grabbed Jandu’s arm and practically ran up the stairs to Jandu’s guest rooms. “Quick!” Keshan whispered. “Before she comes back!” He shut the door behind him and locked it, laughing.
Jandu laughed as well, but with guilt. “I’m stealing her husband. That makes me a bad person.”
Keshan scoffed. “I would have fallen asleep as soon as I got into bed with her, that’s what I always do.” He moved towards Jandu seductively. “All my love is for you.”
“Lucky me.” Jandu looked around the guest chamber, marveling at its rich colors. Everything about the palace burst with vibrant patterns. The guest room was small, consisting of a bed and a few small cushions together on a carpet, with a small cypress table and chair in the corner. The balcony looked out to the sea, where the constant crash of the waves broke through the night and made even the blackness seem alive. Jandu had never slept with such a loud noise. He wasn’t sure he would be able to.
Jandu sat tentatively on the guest bed, poking at the goose-feather mattress and shearling bedding. “This is nice.”
Keshan didn’t hesitate to sit beside him on the bed. Up close, Jandu could smell the wine on Keshan’s breath, see the bleary effects of alcohol in his eyes. Or maybe, Jandu thought, it’s my sight that’s gone blurry and he’s just fine.
“Listen to me,” Keshan said. He grinned crookedly. “We’re going to make it through everything, you and me. I can see the future, you know.”
Jandu smirked. “What am I about to do?”
“Pinch my ass.” Keshan laughed.
Jandu froze for a moment in surprise. He was going pinch Keshan on the ass, which was creepy. Instead he just flicked him on the arm.
“Wrong,” Jandu said.
Keshan grinned. “Liar. I can see the future. And you know what I see?”
“What?” Jandu leaned closer to Keshan.
“I see you and me making love in a forest.”
“We did that already.”
“This is a different forest.” Keshan slurred. “You have a burr digging into your shoulder blade.”
“How sexy.” Jandu’s lips hovered beside Keshan’s.
“Therefore I know we’re going to make it,” Keshan said emphatically. He shook Jandu’s shoulders for effect. “Whatever happens with Mazar’s announcement, with your brother, with me, never forget this: you and I are going to make love in a forest.”
“With a burr in my back?”
“Yes.” Keshan closed the distance and kissed Jandu. Like a wave, desire crashed over Jandu’s body, drowning him in languid warmth.
“I’ll remember,” Jandu whispered.
And, for the rest of that week, Jandu held on to that thought. He spent his mornings teaching archery to his cousins, and in the afternoons he and Keshan walked the city, dining with Keshan’s noisy family every night. Keshan and Iyestar taught Jandu how to swim without being pummeled to death by the waves, and Jandu learned how to fish. And, every night, there was the greatest escape of all, in Keshan’s body, the taste and smell of him overwhelming Jandu’s nights, making him burst with the joy of life. There was no need for fear, with Keshan in his future.
For the first time in his life, Jandu wanted to believe in destiny.
Chapter 17
The night before Mazar was to announce who would inherit the throne, most of the city of Prasta indulged in celebration. The night air filled with the sound of revelry and the cries of sheep being slaughtered for feasts. Music broke out in courtyards across the city, the notes of rebo chords and wind instruments wafting above the high clay and mud walls.
The impending announcement cast a heavy pall over the palace. Yudar spent the night in meditation. To respect the silence, Darvad celebrated elsewhere, at Druv’s townhouse. By the time Tarek joined his friends, they were well into their festivities. Even Firdaus Trinat seemed drunk, and he rarely lost control.
Darvad lavished Tarek with praise and attention. They practiced archery in Druv’s garden, and when it got too dark to see, they wa
tched a dancing troupe inside. New food and wine flowed continuously. Darvad seemed in high spirits, although he admitted that he missed Iyestar and wished he had come.
“I am sure he means no offense by his absence,” Tarek told him.
Darvad nodded. “I know that. It is the way with the Adaru family. They have their own traditions, they are not like us.”
Despite the fact that his fate hinged on tomorrow’s decision, Darvad glowed with optimism. It rubbed off on Tarek.
“You promised you would show me how to do the Salafani dance.” Tarek was drunk, he knew it, and a part of his brain warned him that he could easily go too far in such a state, press his luck, press Darvad’s friendship.
But Darvad was not offended by the request. He clapped Tarek on the shoulder and stood. “Of course! I did promise you, didn’t I?” Darvad dashed to one of the female dancers. He grabbed her by the arm and swung her out into the middle of the room. The poor woman looked startled by Darvad’s sudden grab.
“You dance Salafani-style?” Darvad asked her, smiling wickedly.
The woman nodded. “Of course.”
“Then let’s show my friend how it’s done.”
Tarek reclined on the pillows and watched, stifling his disappointment that Darvad had not volunteered to show him the moves personally. The dance started traditionally, with the two of them circling around each other, arms weaving in the air, legs deliberately strutting across the room. As the tempo increased, they drew closer together, each gyration in tandem, until they were nearly touching, their bodies pulsing and twisting in synchronicity. It was a very erotic dance. Tarek watched the movements of Darvad’s body hungrily, the way his arms flexed, the careful placement of his feet. Darvad’s eyes burned as they stared wantonly at the half-clad dancer, and Tarek imagined what it would be like to have such eyes turned on him.
“Let me try,” Tarek said, standing up. He moved to Darvad, but the dancer quickly spun and grabbed his arm, misinterpreting him. Tarek struggled through the steps with her. She was patient. But Tarek’s sexual frustrations only made his poor dancing skills worse, and he quickly tired of trying.
Darvad found another dancing girl, and stalked her like prey. Tarek didn’t have the stomach to watch Darvad pursue a lover that evening. He slipped out of the room, wandering through Druv’s house, his head spinning with wine.
Tarek decided to go for a walk and dispel the dizzying buzz. Druv’s townhouse seemed too close; he needed air.
Sounds of merrymaking drifted from behind every wall. The wide, shady boulevard was home to a majority of Marhavad’s lords and courtiers, and so each occupant anticipated either trepidation or celebration the following day. Tarek was not the only lord wandering the street in the darkness. He passed by carousing groups of young men, Triya warriors dressed in their finest, he passed musicians and merchants making late deliveries. Everyone offered him the sign of peace as he passed, and it touched him. On the eve of a decision that might spark a civil war, all parties were filled with hope, filled with something close to affection for each other. Anything seemed possible.
The street circled round a large park, and Tarek followed the curve of the road, strolling down a quieter side street. Here were the houses of the ministers of Prasta, wealthy Triya who were not soldiers, but professional politicians. While celebration could still be heard, the scene was more subdued, and Tarek embraced these moments of serenity as he sorted through his raging heartbreak.
Tarek passed by the red-painted gates of a temple and he decided to stop inside. The shrine itself was tucked back away from the street within a thick stand of coconut trees. The prophets gazed down at him, and the face of God, illustrated as a shining sun, wrought in pure gold, glittered from the ceiling of the incense-strewn temple.
Tarek lit a fresh stick of incense off a dying ember. He rubbed paste on his forehead and then knelt in prayer.
He lost himself in his mumbled words. Religion always comforted him, and now it served as a buoy, keeping him afloat in the tumultuous world of being the lord of Dragewan. He prayed for guidance. He prayed for strength.
Tarek heard voices and turned. Two priests walked together down the path. They paused when they saw him praying there, and turned aside to give Tarek privacy. They stopped within a three-walled wooden shelter near the gate, where Tarek had smelled buttery tea being heated.
Tarek continued his prayer, but the priests’ presence intruded on his meditations. They no doubt assumed from his dress that Tarek was Triya, but if they found out a Suya was sullying their temple grounds, he could be punished. Darvad would defend him, as Darvad always did. But Tarek did not want to burden his friend with extra responsibilities, especially not on the eve of his ascension to the throne.
Tarek bowed his head low to God and then stood. His knees popped. He was getting out of shape, all this feasting and so little exercise.
In order to bypass the priests, Tarek walked a circuitous route back to the front gate, through the coconut grove, enjoying the perfumed warmth of the summer air.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tarek saw the flash of armor hidden behind the trees. He wasn’t the only warrior hiding in the temple that night.
His first thought was that it was some reveler relieving himself against a tree, but then he heard the voices of two men. It was late for such congress, and Tarek approached warily, worried the men were up to no good. Temples had been desecrated over the last few months by young rabble-rousers.
Then he saw them.
Keshan Adaru and Jandu Paran stood whispering together. Keshan reclined against a tree casually, and Jandu stood close to him, his hand beside Keshan’s head as he leaned on the tree for support. The two of them spoke in low voices, their armor and fresh clothes gleaming in the moonlight.
Tarek moved closer to hear what they were saying, keeping to the shadows, making no sound.
“…I can’t.” Keshan shook his head. He looked agitated.
“I want you there,” Jandu pleaded. “I need you there. Please. Yudar won’t mind. Hell, even Darvad would prefer you come to the ceremony. You’ve traveled all this way already.”
Keshan shook his head. “No. I promised Iyestar I would accompany you to the city gates, no further. And look! I’ve already broken my promise.”
“So break it all the way. Come with me to the palace.”
“No. I’ll spend the night in the Tiwari townhouse, but I must leave first thing in the morning.”
The two of them stood awfully close together, Tarek thought.
“What does it matter?” Jandu asked. He ducked his head to look into Keshan’s face, seeming to notice Keshan’s obvious discomfort for the first time. “Are you all right?”
“Listen, I need you to do something for me,” Keshan whispered.
“Anything,” Jandu whispered back.
“Give me Zandi, just for a little while. You can get her in Tiwari after the ceremony.”
The request clearly shocked Jandu, for he straightened, his hands leaving the tree. “Why do you want her?”
“A feeling.”
“What feeling?”
Keshan sighed. He ran his hand through his hair. “I have a premonition that Zandi will be taken from you if I don’t protect her.”
“Keshan—”
“—Do you trust me?”
Jandu nodded. “Of course I do. Take her. Keep her as long as you wish.” Jandu slid Zandi off his shoulder and rested her against the bark of the tree.
Keshan suddenly kissed Jandu.
Tarek stood, transfixed, mouth agape in shock.
Jandu thrust his tongue into Keshan’s mouth. They drew closer together. Jandu pinned Keshan to the tree trunk, his hands on either side of Keshan’s face.
Tarek never witnessed two men kissing before. Despite the fact that Tarek disliked Jandu, he couldn’t deny that they were both exceptionally attractive men. The sight aroused him. Tarek watched them embrace, their breastplates grinding quietly together as they pressed
closer, kissing slowly, lazily, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they had every right to be there, making love in the open.
When Tarek kissed men, it was always a furtive act, hasty and aggressive. He had never done this. The two of them made love with such gentle sweetness, their mouths caressing each other, their bodies trembling with a tremendous balance of strength and tenderness.
Watching them, Tarek awakened to the idea that love between two men could be something beautiful and pure, and not a desperate craving satisfied in darkness and in urgency.
Jandu whispered something to Keshan, and Keshan laughed, he let Jandu pin his body, hip to hip. Keshan licked at Jandu’s lips, and Tarek suddenly felt a deep grief unlike anything he’d ever experienced. This was a sweet moment he would never know. There was a purity in this secret embrace, and now that he knew it existed, Tarek wanted to experience it more than anything else in his life.
A bone-deep sadness tore through him. He would never have this. Not with Darvad. It would forever be out of Tarek’s reach, as long as he continued to love a man who could not—would not—love him back.
Tarek decided to leave the two lovers alone. His voyeurism, and his own arousal, disturbed him. This was a private moment, and Tarek ruined it by spying.
He heard a low voice from behind him, and realized that the priests approached. Despite his anger towards Jandu, Tarek determined that nothing should pollute this moment. He wanted Keshan and Jandu to have it, if he never could.
He leaned down and found a stone, and threw it close to the lovers. Jandu and Keshan broke apart immediately. They spoke again to each other, and then Jandu turned to leave. As they parted, their fingers touched briefly, and they walked in opposite directions, Zandi held in Keshan’s arms.
Tarek waited a few seconds, and then continued through the trees towards the temple gate. He watched Jandu stealthily depart.
He still didn’t like Jandu. Jandu gained admiration for his bloodline, rather than his talents. And while he was a good archer, Tarek was better. Yet Jandu would always receive more praise, and more credit, because of his lineage.
