Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set

by Danielle Summers

  Duga yanked his arm from Baboye’s grip. “Sir, I must get ready for my assignment. There isn’t much time.” He hoped the prince heard the biting tone in his words. Despite all his years connected with the royal family, he still couldn’t believe that the Matriarch regarded the hundred plus boys in the harem as so disposable, so replaceable.

  The prince didn’t answer right away.

  “At least tell me you don’t agree with her,” said Duga.

  His shoulders fell. “I couldn’t talk her out of it, Duga. I have more confidence in your abilities than anyone else’s. You will be successful, so she won’t need to carry out her threat. A sovereign would never do anything to sully the harem tradition.”

  Duga couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was as if Baboye hadn’t paid attention during his mother’s twenty-five-year reign, although this was particularly horrific even for her.

  “When have you ever known the Matriarch not follow through with a threat?”

  Baboye looked anguished. Duga thought maybe he should hug the prince, but the feeling was fleeting. All he could think of was what he had to do to prevent the Matriarch from making good on her mad threat.

  “His name is Eyakan,” the prince said softly.

  “Sir?”

  “The boy I want to make my consort. His name is Eyakan. If you do nothing else, save him. Swear you will do this.” The prince’s voice was firmer, more authoritative. It was both a request and an order.

  Duga felt it was petty to try and save just one boy, but it was the prince who was asking.

  “I swear, sir.”

  “Thank you. Eretu is waiting for you in your quarters to brief you on the particulars of your assignment.” Baboye opened the door. He smiled. “When this is over, we must get good and blind on some Solon Valley wine. We should celebrate.”

  After the prince left, Duga stood in the small room partially decorated with streamers and miniature versions of the Thasali royal standard. He reached out to touch the tip of one of the little flags. He rubbed the tip between his thumb and index finger. As a boy, he had owned a little flag like this one, although made of much cheaper material. It had been one of the decorations at one of the shops near his childhood home. Perhaps it had been put up for the old, long-dead Patriarch’s birthday? Or maybe it had been left over from the late Patriarch’s jubilee celebrations. No matter. He had been attracted to those royal colors. The shopkeeper had given it to him without charge. Be proud of your royal family, lad, the shopkeeper had said as he handed Duga the little flag. Recalling the note that greeted him upon his arrival home the night before, he wondered how much longer his pride could carry him through.

  *~*~*

  Eretu, a stern, youngish woman from the Thasali security service, was in the small sitting room in Duga’s house when he got home. He thought Menefy was lurking somewhere, but Duga couldn’t find him. He wondered if Eretu had scared him. Like all the women who had attained high positions in the Thasali household, she was frighteningly efficient. She and her team had come up with a detailed backstory and documents, including an identity card, for Duga’s undercover identity. He was to be Cassiel Menasta, a sex trainer from Tafeld, an insignificant town leagues away from anything to do with the Thasali household. Eretu told him that he would have a contact among the harem compound cleaning staff.

  “Oraj, the harem master, is exacting, so turnover among the cleaning staff is quite high. He won’t be aware that one of the cleaning staff is actually one of ours. This is Gyles,” she said as she handed Duga a drawing. “He knows who you are. He’s very good.”

  Duga looked at the image. The sketch was quite good, but it showed an utterly ordinary, unassuming young man. His hair was somewhere between blond and brunet. His eyes were a drab, muddy color, an uninspiring brown. His skin was flat and pale. It was as if nature designed him to fade into the background. Duga was hesitant to take his eyes off the picture because he was concerned that as soon as he did, he would forget what Gyles looked like, but he gave the picture back to Eretu.

  “I must tell you that Oraj and I were harem boys together. He’ll know who I am as soon as he sees me,” Duga said.

  Eretu nodded. “Of course. Oraj was briefed last night. He doesn’t know about Gyles, why you’re coming, or any detail he doesn’t really need, but he knows what your cover identity is. You’ve no need to worry about him. He is well aware that he has to keep his mouth shut.”

  “Indeed. Even when we were in the harem together, Oraj knew how to keep secrets,” Duga said.

  “Tell me if you can. What happened to the man I’m replacing?”

  Eretu smirked so quickly that Duga almost missed it. “The harem master had been complaining for some time that the sex trainer, Egan, was … unsatisfactory. The Matriarch granted Egan a generous severance for his retirement, which was effective yesterday. I’m told that, after minimal persuasion, he left for Pyriel quite willingly.”

  “Pyriel. That’s supposed to be like paradise.”

  “Exactly. Who wouldn’t want to go to Pyriel?” She glanced at his left wrist. “That will need to be removed.”

  Duga looked down at the tattoo that still marked him as a harem member. He rubbed at it.

  “We’ll send a man over to take care of it.”

  “Tattoo removal can take several days. We don’t have that kind of time,” Duga protested, worried that his undercover adventure might end before it even started.

  “One of the Thasali scientists invented a crystal-powered stylus that can remove a tattoo in half an hour. I mean completely remove it. It will be like you were never marked,” she said.

  Like you were never marked. Duga looked down at his left wrist. Thasali cobalt blue, purple and yellow had been a significant part of his identity for all his adult life. Indeed, there had been times in the first few years after he had been tattooed that he had to remind himself that he had not been born into the Thasali harem. Yes, he had not set foot in the harem since he left it, but he owed everything he had now to his time as a harem boy. The tattoo reminded him of that every day. It was a mark of pride. He looked from his wrist to Eretu. He wondered if he should tell her all this? Would she care?

  Eretu smiled. “I can arrange for you to be re-tattooed if that’s something you want.”

  Duga nodded and looked down at his wrist again.

  “All right. Report to the compound in four hours. You are not to return here until your assignment is completed. You will live at the compound in your predecessor’s quarters. Everything will be ready for you there.” Then she left without another word.

  Shortly after Eretu had made her exit, a man who appeared to be about Duga’s age arrived to remove the tattoo. He chattered quite happily while he did it. As it turned out, his father had been the tattoo artist when Duga got his harem mark. This piqued Duga’s interest briefly. Mostly, he distracted himself with thoughts of the investigation he was soon to embark upon.

  After the tattoo removal man left, Duga spent the few hours he had to himself memorizing his backstory, working himself into his new identity, occasionally looking at his now blank wrist. It looked so naked. Menefy had laid out the clothes he would wear for his arrival at the compound. They were plain cream, very different from the royal colors that he had been sporting for so many years.

  Also, since he’d be living at the harem compound for the next several days, Menefy would have some free time. Duga wrote letters to Tertiana and his children for Menefy to hand deliver. He told them he loved them and that he missed them. Duga was confident that Menefy would be able to evade whatever tail the Matriarch might put on him. He had taught his servant everything he knew about spotting a tail and how to shake it, and the trip would give Menefy the chance to gather bits of gossip about other cities. Duga prided himself on his knowledge not only of the inner workings of the Thasali household, but of the politics of a couple of other cities ruled by royal families. He never dismissed any gossip as trivial.

  He called for
Menefy and sent him off before he left for the harem compound.

  “I will be back soon. I bid you good fortune, sir.” Menefy touched two fingers to his own forehead, an old salute from the village he had grown up in, and scuttled nimbly away.

  Duga set off soon after Menefy left. With each step he took, memories of his time in the harem, things he hadn’t thought about in years, came flooding back. He remembered sex with Shebi and sex with Baboye when they were still very young men. He wondered if the measurements of his cock from when he was an eighteen-year-old initiate were still on file. He pushed to the back of his mind any doubts he was having about the investigation, his chances of success and the Thasali family. He would identify any would-be assassin and save the harem and the prince. He was Cassiel Menasta, a harem sex trainer who could look forward to having sex with several beautiful young men over the next few days. Duga involuntarily licked his lips. Suddenly, there was a lightness in his step.

  Chapter Three

  The Thasali harem compound was connected to the royal palace by a long, narrow hallway but also set a little apart. The massive set of buildings stood in a forested area with its own staff and accommodated two hundred male and female harem members. A beautiful lake with deep, clear water bisected the compound, separating the female side from the male side. As Duga walked along the path through the stand of trees, he couldn’t help but recall how he had felt the very first time he had walked this path through these woods. He remembered feeling a little afraid because it was the first time he had ever been away from home, but he also felt an excited anticipation that had threatened to overwhelm him if Shebi hadn’t been by his side. Shebi and Leuna, a girl from the Mudflats district and also a harem initiate, had talked animatedly about the new life they were embarking on. Duga could hardly speak.

  When Duga reached the part of the path that forked—one branch leading to the female harem, the other to the male harem—he remembered saying goodbye to Leuna, a lovely girl who had looked suddenly apprehensive, all those years ago. He had wondered if she might turn back, but then she had smiled, gave him and Shebi a kiss and walked briskly down the path to the female harem. As he got closer to the entrance of the male harem, he wondered what had happened to her. He had only seen her a few times after they first entered the harem but hadn’t seen her in years. He hoped she was doing well and was happy.

  At the front entrance, Duga yanked on the bell pull. He heard no sound, but knew that deep in the compound a bell rang, letting everyone know that someone wanted in. Moments later, a cheerful middle-aged man opened the door.

  “Cassiel Menasta? Yes?”

  Duga grinned. “Yes.”

  The man stepped aside to let Duga in. “I am Rilas, one of Oraj’s assistants. Please enter. Master Oraj is waiting for you.”

  Duga stepped inside like he was stepping into the past. He looked down at the glossy floor, remembering when his mentor Agatan, a tall redhead with pale white skin, had informed him that it was called tile. He hadn’t seen Agatan in years either. He had heard that Agatan had trained as a physician and gone back to his home Saltmarsh district after his harem service to provide medical care for his people.

  Rilas relieved Duga of the satchel he’d been carrying. It contained a few items of clothing, books and papers that didn’t bear Thasali watermarks or insignias, and a few personal items that Eretu and her team thought Cassiel Menasta, a sex trainer from Tafeld, would carry. Rilas kept up a line of patter about the compound as they walked. Duga, of course, knew much of it already. He could have walked the entrance hallway blindfolded. Sometimes he had for a royal family member’s amusement, but he nodded and asked questions anyway. As they walked farther into the compound, they passed some of the boys. Thasali harem recruiters looked for beauty in potential harem members. That could be facial beauty or, as in Duga’s case, beauty of the body. Duga gasped inwardly at the sight of a few of the boys, the ones whose beauty was preternatural. Their soft skin glowed. Their hair looked glossy. Their wide eyes were perfectly spaced over noses that were carved out of fine lines.

  As Duga and Rilas passed the gymnasium where naked young men were working out, Duga paused to get a glance at those doing push-ups and sit-ups. He knew he was gawking, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he was a harem outsider now, but he couldn’t remember if he, Shebi and the other boys they’d been with had been quite as beautiful.

  “They are something, aren’t they?” Rilas said, startling Duga.

  “Indeed.” Duga cleared his throat, trying to get back into Cassiel Menasta mode. “I’d expect nothing less from a Thasali harem.”

  Rilas chuckled. “Master Oraj says that this crop is the best Thasali has had in years. Here we are.”

  Rilas stopped at an ornate door and knocked twice. Then Duga heard a voice from behind him.

  “The master isn’t in at the moment, Rilas. I’ll take it from here.” The voice had a harsh edge to it, which didn’t sound like an affectation to Duga’s ears. It just seemed that was how the speaker always sounded, regardless of mood or situation.

  Duga turned to get a good look at the speaker. It was a man, thin but muscular, with a clean-shaven head and face. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rilas looking at this man with distaste.

  “Yes, sir,” Rilas said. “I bid you good fortune, sir.” He bowed to Duga and walked away.

  “My name is Gerion. I am Master Oraj’s chief assistant. The master is attending to other matters for the moment. He asked me to show you to your office and rooms. I’m sure Rilas has filled you in on the history of our little compound. I know a lot of the history, too, so don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions.” Here Gerion smiled, looking rather pleased with himself, Duga thought, although his voice still sounded gruff. They started walking down the hall, arriving shortly at the door to a room that turned out to be the sex trainer’s office with a desk, files and various sex toys. Another door at the back of the office opened to an attached sleeping room.

  It wasn’t familiar to Duga. He probably hadn’t spent that much time here. This was primarily where the sex trainer completed paperwork, made plans and slept. Most of the training was elsewhere in the harem compound.

  “The records on all the boys—where are they?” he asked.

  Gerion moved around the desk, faced the wall, and pressed a panel on it. The panel opened to reveal a depression into which he thrust his arm and removed a cylindrical stick that resembled a writing tool. He handed it to Duga.

  “Point it at that wall, Cassiel, and press the button on top.”

  Duga did as he was told. Suddenly, the wall lit up with images of tables of contents. He saw an entry marked Thasali Harem and pressed the button. He was in the records. The names of staff members and of all the boys were available at the touch of a button.

  “Very clever,” Duga said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “No one else is using anything like this. Master Oraj makes it a point to be in touch with all the newest technologies. We’re far ahead of the palace and other royal families on this point.”

  The door opened and a big, muscular, bald man entered. Despite the lack of hair, Duga identified him instantly. His muscles were bigger than when they had served in the harem together. Oraj had also developed a small belly. Duga was careful to keep any sign of recognition from showing on his face.

  Oraj bowed to Duga. “I am Oraj. I see Gerion is helping you settle in, Menasta.”

  “He’s been very helpful, Master Oraj.”

  “You can finish moving in later. Now the boys are gathered in the atrium. They’re eager to meet you,” Oraj said. “Follow me, Menasta.”

  Duga gave the stylus to Gerion who replaced it inside the wall. They set off after Oraj, who kept a brisk pace. They walked in silence. Duga took surreptitious looks at Oraj and Gerion. With their bald heads and muscular builds, although Oraj was bulkier, Duga wondered who was the original and who was the facsimile. He first knew Oraj when he had a
full head of hair, so perhaps the master had taken his cues from the assistant. No, that didn’t seem right. Oraj was too strong a personality to let anyone else lead. Duga smiled a little, remembering Oraj’s refusal to bottom when they were harem boys. He always had to be the top.

  As they walked, Duga happened to see a plain-looking man carrying a bucket in each hand. He knew if he looked away from the man, he’d instantly forget him. It had to be Gyles, his contact inside the harem. Gyles stopped and edged to the corridor wall to let Duga, Oraj and Gerion pass. Oraj and Gerion ignored him, but Duga gave Gyles an imperceptible nod. Gyles’ expression of bland serenity never changed.

  Soon, they reached the atrium—a vast space, airy and light because of the stunning skylight ceiling. Parts of the skylight were stained glass. The sunlight streaming through gave the atrium a kaleidoscopic feel. Duga couldn’t help but gasp.

  Oraj smiled slightly. “It is a wondrous sight, is it not? We had it installed ten years ago. Some of the stained glass has bits of crystal from the mines embedded in it.”

  Duga gawked at the ceiling. It rivaled the beauty of many of the harem boys he was about to be introduced to. He followed Oraj to the center of the room. Oraj, with a strong voice that carried throughout the atrium, introduced Duga as Cassiel Menasta, the harem’s new sex trainer. Duga noticed that several of the boys looked at him appraisingly. Then, Oraj was asking Duga to say a few words to the boys.

  Duga looked out at the boys for a few moments. “Thank you, Master Oraj, for this warm reception. I look forward to working with you boys and helping you reach your greatest potential. The jubilee revels will very soon be upon us. Let’s give our jubilee guests our very best. Thank you.”

  As he looked out at the sea of faces, he wondered which one of them, if the rumor was true, could be waiting for the opportunity to assassinate Prince Baboye and why. He had to find the assassin, if there was one, and save them all.