“I was on my way out to take in the night air,” Amyar said as he took a few steps into the room.
“It is a beautiful night, Your Highness,” Oshone said.
“This place is altogether too beautiful for the Tansharian scum,” said a languorous and very pretty young man with short blond hair and light grey eyes.
He could have been a harem boy if he had been more docile, thought Amyar.
Oshone laughed and then scolded him. “Dashlo! Not in front of the prince. Maintain dignity.”
This was the moment when Amyar could decide to stay and have fun with fellow officers or go on what would be a lonely walk.
A wonderful thought occurred to him. I could do both.
He stayed a little while, chatting and laughing with the other young men. He even played a few rounds of the game Mah-Mine-Jong. Oshone and the others were surprised he knew how to play. Amyar said one of his family’s tutors had taught him and his brothers the game. He even won a few rounds.
“The difference, of course, is that you play for ginamars. We played for candy.” Amyar smiled at the memory.
“The Matriarch didn’t put a stop to it?” Maxos said.
“She didn’t know,” the prince said, rather pleased. The tutor had asked them to keep it a secret, and they had done so successfully. Mother never knew.
When Amyar left, he got the sense that a few of the young officers were actually sorry to see him go. Oshone certainly was. An awkward situation had been turned around.
“After we’re done here with these negotiations, we should get together. Some of us are getting up a junket to go to Pyriel. Lots of games to be played there,” Oshone said as he put his hand on Amyar’s shoulder and left it there. Amyar felt his heat through the cloth of his shirt.
Amyar had heard of Pyriel, of course. With a temperate climate, it had mostly been a place where Resedna’s wealthier citizens had gone to retire. Lately, younger people from Resedna, especially the ones who had enough ginamars to throw around, had started going there for holidays to gamble in the pleasure palaces with high-stakes games of chance and play in the brothels that had opened there.
“That sounds wonderful,” Amyar said. Once his mother saw how well things turned out with him coming to the negotiations, he didn’t think he’d have any trouble convincing her to let him go to Pyriel for a little fun.
*~*~*
After leaving Oshone and the others behind, Amyar hunched over, as if he could leave the compound without being seen, but his bid for stealth didn’t work. Every guard he passed bowed whenever he came into view, even without the ring on his finger. Relief hit him with the same force of the cool breeze that greeted him when he finally walked outside. He didn’t know which way to go, so he just picked a direction. He walked across the parade ground and over to an area he’d overheard one of the guards earlier refer to as the mound. Specifically, the guard had asked one of his colleagues if he’d run up the mound yet.
In the darkness, Amyar could make out a shape. He stopped at the foot of the mound.
Perhaps I should have kept Eppon’s glow torch, he thought.
The darkness was near total, but he could feel underneath his feet that some parts of the grass were worn down more than others. He did a bit of a jog to get to the top of the mound, realizing it was steeper than he originally thought. He stopped only briefly at the top before walking down the other side. As he got closer to the bottom, he slowed down. He heard voices. He couldn’t see very well, so he had a hard time placing where they were coming from. He walked as quietly as he could, stopping just short of the bottom. The voices became more distinct. It was Timendum, Eppon, and another man whose voice he didn’t recognize.
“As long as the additional troops are in place once the negotiations are underway, we’ll be fine,” Timendum said.
The man whose voice Amyar didn’t recognize said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be ready.”
“It better be. We’re taking a big gamble doing this,” Timendum said, sounding irritated.
“You’re right, Ishlir. It’s certainly become a very big gamble, but you knew that from the beginning,” said Eppon sharply.
Timendum said, “Getting control of Tanshar’s water will be the trickiest part.”
“Sure but if we pull this off, the rewards will be huge,” said the other man.
Eppon said, “That’s right, Lerion. Huge rewards. You’re not getting second thoughts about this, are you, Ishlir?”
“As long as gaining control of the water leads to me becoming head of the Thasali household, I’m fine.”
The man Eppon called Lerion said, “It is just one step to that goal.”
“But it’s a key step,” Timendum said. “We can use it to turn the people’s feelings against the Matriarch. She has never been truly loved or respected by the people. They’ll do much of our work for us.”
“It’s getting late. We need to be at our best tomorrow. Lerion, my best to you. I am grateful for your help,” said Eppon.
Amyar was afraid they would come up the mound where he was standing, but they didn’t. From what he could see, Eppon and Timendum went around. He didn’t see where the man Eppon called Lerion went. Amyar sat down heavily on the ground. Getting control of Tanshar’s water as a key step to removing the Matriarch and putting Timendum in her place was outrageous, but Eppon and Timendum were planning it. They would use the Thasali military to do it.
How can Eppon do this? How can he bring in troops loyal to him and not the Matriarch? The Matriarch trusted him. She trusted him enough to put me in his care. Amyar wondered what part he would have to play in the plot, possibly inadvertently.
When he got back into the compound, again the guards bowed to him, but he looked at them differently. He wondered which of them were involved in the plot against his mother. Who was loyal to Eppon? Who was loyal to the Matriarch? As he tried to sleep, he realized that he didn’t know who he could trust. He was a long way from home. He was without his brothers, his servants, and his allies.
It occurred to him that he should try to get a message to the Matriarch somehow, although all communications between Thasali military and security facilities were monitored and censored. He realized that the chances that his message would fall into the wrong hands were too great. It angered him, how little he knew about how these things worked and the fact that he had been put into this position. He decided his best course of action was to go ahead with his role on the negotiating team and look for an opportunity to raise the alarm. The only other option, he felt, was to hope the general’s plan wasn’t as far along as it sounded. He slept uneasily.
Chapter Five
Negotiations
Rouden nodded at Ankran as he eased into the conference room where a briefing on the negotiations with Thasali officials would take place. About a half dozen rebels occupied the room, including Mattix, his former lover, who winked at him. Rouden ignored him. That wound was still fresh.
Thasali weren’t there yet, and Rouden was later than the other rebels because he had slipped out of the shack he was sharing with Ankran and Jonas to visit his father and younger brother. They kept the family’s grain mill running while he and other family members worked toward independence. Rouden’s sisters had gone to join a rebel militia in another part of the province. It was risky for those working for independence to visit their families because there were Thasali spies who were trying to identify rebel members. Thasali would do anything to crush the rebellion, but since he was going to be part of the negotiating team, Rouden knew it wouldn’t matter. Everyone would know he was a rebel after today.
Wyke had just finished laying out the Tansharian position on water rights and Thasali compensation for the use of Tanshar’s water.
“This might as well be a child’s puppet show. It’s just fluff. They’re not going to listen to us,” said Alban. “Negotiations are pointless. Only violence will get us what we want.” If anyone could be considered Wyke’s number two within the r
ebel command structure, it would be Mikero Alban, a hairy, barrel-chested man with a deep scar running from his right eye down his cheek to his neck.
Rouden didn’t know Alban very well. What he had heard about him was that he was a dedicated rebel and that he apparently needed Wyke to temper his aggressiveness. Alban’s dismissiveness of Wyke’s carefully laid negotiation plan made Rouden dislike him. He’d also heard from Jonas that Wyke and Alban were once lovers.
Wyke was gentle in his rebuke. “Alban, my friend, we must do this to show them that we are serious. They think of us as ignorant, backwater nothings. The negotiations will also be a way to gauge their true position. What do they truly hope to gain?”
Alban snorted in derision. “We have people keeping an eye on Thasali movements. We know from them that their negotiating team is traveling with a military escort.”
“They’d be foolish not to,” Wyke said.
“Wyke’s right,” said another rebel called Hynryck. “Besides, we’re ready for them.”
Alban shot Hynryck a scornful look. “Ready for what, exactly? We still don’t know if there are more of their military coming behind the negotiating team. We don’t know how heavily armed they are.”
Wyke cut him off. “And when our spies know that, they’ll tell us. We have come this far, Alban, and we have far to go before our dream of a free Tanshar is realized. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think your continued criticisms of our plans indicated a desire to poison our morale. You’re not softening, are you? You’re not backing down from a free Tanshar?”
The transformation in Alban was astonishing to Rouden. He saw the man’s eyes widen so much he thought they’d pop out of his head. A vein appeared in his forehead. Alban jumped up, stomped over to Wyke, and stood over him. His fists shook but remained at his sides.
“How dare you!” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve been with you all the way, in the middle of all of this.”
Wyke cast a glance up at him. He reached up and ran his hand softly down Alban’s scar, earned while he was being forced by the Thasali to work on the pipes that stole their water. “Then we’ll hear no more about this unless it’s something that will truly benefit our cause. Yes?”
The tension in the room felt thicker than the gunnil seed pudding Rouden’s grandfather used to make. They may kill each other before Thasali get the chance to, Rouden thought.
Rouden, who had stood at the back since coming into the room, walked over to Wyke and Alban.
“The negotiations will start soon. Maybe you two can resolve this when they’re over. Or if you can’t wait, I think you should do this in private,” he said.
Alban snorted and looked Rouden up and down like a rotting piece of Sallabeast meat. “I see your pet decided that this was important enough for him to grace us with his presence. You’re late to this meeting and now you think you can tell us what to do? When Wyke told me that he’d taken you on, I told him not to be swayed by a pretty face. I know Wyke has a soft spot for you, but so far I haven’t seen that you have any utility at all. And you will not make me soft.” He bared his gritted teeth.
Rouden actually felt his face contort into a snarl. He was no one’s pet. He knew how to fight. He may have been a harem boy once, but he was also Tansharian through and through. His hands knew how to draw blood.
“You really do not want to do this, Alban,” Rouden said.
Wyke stood up, wedging himself between the two men. “This ends here. All that matters now are the negotiations. Agreed?”
Rouden nodded his assent. Alban seemed torn between trying to decide who to hit first—Rouden or Wyke. Finally, he gave a curt nod and stalked out of the room. Rouden noticed that Jonas, Mattix, and a couple of other rebels followed him out. Rouden’s father had warned him to watch out for infighting. All political groups are prone to infighting, he had said. Stay out of it, if you can, and keep your flame burning true.
Wyke smiled at Rouden and put his arm around him. “He’ll come round. He always does. There’s so much we can’t do without Alban.”
At that moment, Rouden couldn’t figure out what those things would be, but no mind. He took a seat and concentrated on relaxing before the negotiations.
The negotiations were held in the Tansharian council building. It had once been a Corceus royal family summer home but was now where the Tanshar Administrative Council convened regularly. Ever since Wyke had been elected to the council, Rouden had spent a lot of time there. The facade was ornate and covered with elaborate gold engravings. Replacing the Corceus family crest with the Thasali one had been done sloppily, but the structure still glowed with excess. It was for this reason that it was an affront to Rouden. It represented the arrogant indifference he believed was present in every royal. He understood why Tanshar continued to use the building, but he wondered if, in overthrowing Thasali rule, the rebels could tear down this symbol of excess and egotism once and for all.
After taking their positions around the table, Wyke waited several minutes before summoning Thasali representatives into the room. Wyke had told Rouden that this was a tactic to show Thasali that they were in rebel territory, despite Tanshar being a Thasali possession. They would have to wait until the Tansharians were ready.
Wyke always said that the fact that Tanshar became a Thasali possession when the Corceus family crumbled was a “mistake of history.” They should have had independence then. They should have independence now. Rouden agreed wholeheartedly.
When Thasali representatives did come into the room, they were mostly what Rouden expected—expensive-looking puppets. He remembered them from his harem days. He served them then. He would never serve them again in any way.
They probably couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything that would displease the Matriarch. Rouden smiled a little, recalling the lakeside parties last year during the Matriarch’s jubilee celebrations when rebels like him and rebel sympathizers had burned the Matriarch in effigy. He had only left the harem a few months before, and freedom tasted sweet.
There was one Thasali who caught Rouden’s eye. He was much younger than the other representatives, who were a mix of military and civilian folks. He looked earnest and disarmingly sincere. He had dark hair that was neat and short at the sides and thick and tousled at the top. His hair was so sharp and neat it looked like it had just been cut. His eyes were a refreshing green, his chin lightly dimpled. Rouden had never seen anyone so beautiful. He sat behind and slightly to the side of the man introduced as General Eppon. The young man had been looking around the room, as if trying to digest every detail of it. Since he looked as expensive as the others in the Thasali contingent, Rouden doubted this was the first time he’d been in a place so elaborately decorated. Then the man looked at Rouden, and he felt a jolt through his body, like those green eyes were arrows released from a bow. The man stared at him, his mouth open. Rouden smiled. The man closed his mouth and shook his head. Rouden heard someone clearing his throat. The negotiations had begun.
Chapter Six
Lull before the storm
The prince was alarmed at how easy it was to be distracted by the scruffy-looking rebel across the table. The rebel, with his long, thick brown hair and glinting brown eyes, conformed to Amyar’s preconception about Tansharians. Amyar grew up knowing little about Tanshar other than it had a great deal of fresh water that the residents of Resedna, the Thasali royal city, rightfully drank, bathed in, and cooked with. Tansharians were grungy, mean, and undeserving of the abundant fresh water in their province, but Amyar’s attention kept straying back to the rebel who looked to be about his age. Amyar was shocked at how beautiful the rebel was, even under all that grunge or perhaps because of it, and at how strongly he was attracted to him. Dull negotiation talks couldn’t compete with the rebel’s good looks, although the thought of troops disloyal to the Matriarch were also at the back of his mind.
The rebel ran his hand through his uncombed hair, and that’s when Amyar saw it. T
his rebel bore the mark of Thasali on his wrist. He was a harem boy. Slowly, Amyar pulled his mind away from the former harem boy. He wondered if he’d already had him and returned his focus to the negotiations.
“The compensation for your water has been more than generous,” General Eppon was saying. “We’ve given more than Corceus ever paid for it. You cannot refuse to give us what has already been paid for.”
“But you seem to be ignoring the fact that it’s not your water to take or buy at any price,” said an older man who’d been introduced as Sege Wyke—an odd name, Amyar thought. His words triggered a chorus of cheers from the rebels. Some stomped on the floor and pounded the table like the thugs they were. Amyar saw the rebel who attracted him pounding on the table along with the others
Eppon sniffed. “That may be —”
“What do you mean? That may be? It is our water!” the former harem boy shouted.
Amyar saw Wyke place his hand on the harem boy’s arm to calm him down. He wondered if they were lovers. The skills young men learned in the Thasali harem, especially the sexual ones, were highly prized and sought after by many. Former harem boys rarely wanted for anything.
General Eppon continued, “But before we seriously entertain any compensation, we will require that you pay for the necessary repairs to the main pipeline.”
Rebels began shouting. Amyar heard them objecting to what Eppon had said, but he thought it a reasonable request. The rebels had destroyed the pipeline no doubt believing it was brilliant strategy, but all it did was back them further into a corner. Thasali had and would always have the upper hand.
Wyke waved his arm to quiet down the rebels. When the noise was no longer deafening, he said, “We won’t do any such thing until you agree to higher compensation for the people of Tanshar, not just for the water you’re going to take but also all the water you’ve taken over the years.”
Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set Page 21
