Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set

by Danielle Summers

  “Disappeared? Were you three there? At that safe house, I mean,” Ingus said.

  The bearded one shook his head. “Not us. No. We heard about it. At the same time that the prince disappeared, one of our own went missing. There’s rumors that a Thasali spy was undercover with the rebels at that safe house. No one’s sure who he was. He was hiding in plain sight.”

  “The spy got the prince out and took one of ours with him,” said the small rebel. “It’s awful. Thasali are swine. They better not hurt him.”

  While Rouden waited for Ingus to reply, it dawned on him. If these guys were to be believed it appeared he was not thought to be a traitor.

  Ankran must have told quite a story if anyone questioned him about where I was, he thought.

  When Ingus did reply, he spoke with exasperation in his voice. “Sometimes I wonder how we manage to keep the rebellion going, if that’s the quality of information some of you have.”

  The third rebel, who hadn’t said anything up until now, took a step toward Ingus as if to challenge him. “You should be careful what you say about our movement, friend.”

  Rouden saw Ingus back away a little, like he was conceding to the third rebel.

  “You’re right, my friend,” Ingus said. “I should be going. I have to report back to my lieutenant.”

  The three rebels stood there and watched Ingus, who stood still. Finally, the bearded rebel said. “Good. We have our orders, too.”

  The three rebels sauntered away, not looking back at Ingus. When they were out of sight, Ingus signaled to Rouden and Amyar to come out of hiding.

  “What were they talking about? A Thasali spy undercover with the rebels?” Amyar said, incredulous.

  Ingus said, quietly. “Shh. Wait.”

  Rouden listened but heard only the rustling of leaves from a slight breeze.

  “All right,” Ingus said. “I just wanted to make sure they had really gone away. I don’t know what they were talking about, but I’m sorry to say this is where we part ways.”

  “You really are going to leave us?” asked Amyar.

  “I have to get back to my unit,” Ingus said. “Be careful out there. Take care of my brother.”

  Ingus and Rouden embraced. Amyar nodded at Ingus, who gave him a salute. Then, Ingus turned and walked swiftly away. His footsteps were almost soundless. If Rouden hadn’t been watching him, he doubted he would have noticed him leave at all.

  “Come. We go this way now,” Rouden said, pointing in the opposite direction. He moved low hanging branches out of the way, revealing a hidden path. They moved steadily upward on a gentle incline as rays from the first sun were just starting to break through the horizon.

  The air got thinner the higher they went. Rouden could hear that Amyar’s breathing was a bit labored, so he slowed his pace slightly. They had to keep moving, but made occasional conversation along the way. Amyar told Rouden about the auditions he had watched just before he left Resedna. Rouden shared tales of life near Tanshar’s water, and then turned to more recent events.

  “I imagine that the rumor about a Thasali spy undercover within our movement got started by my friend Ankran, if he was asked where I’d got to.”

  “Ankran?”

  “A childhood friend. He was at the safe house. He caught me stealing supplies for us, but he let me go. He wouldn’t turn on me.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  Rouden stopped and turned to look at Amyar. “I am.” He would not have his friend’s loyalty questioned. They’d known each other for too long, but he also recognized that there were bigger things at play, levels of intrigue and conspiracy that he could barely imagine. He turned and began walking again. “Problem is, there are others in the movement who have always suspected that I’m a Thasali spy.”

  Amyar stumbled a little over a tree root, but didn’t fall. “Why would anyone think that?”

  “I was a harem boy. When I returned, some people said it was a Thasali plot. That I had been turned while in the harem.”

  “That’s ludicrous. That’s not what happens in the harem. It doesn’t change who people are.”

  “Every experience changes a person, and some harem boys and girls go to work for your family directly. Your brother Baboye’s adviser was a harem boy. We heard about him. His loyalty is to your family now, not his birth family or birth place even. Your view of the harem is tinted.”

  Amyar didn’t respond. Rouden wondered, as they hiked through a thicket of trees and farther up the side of the mountain, if this man who he was surprised he cared so much for was offended. It shocked him that he cared so much for the feelings of a Thasali. His father had been hospitable toward Amyar, but then Tansharians tended to be hospitable to strangers no matter their station in life. They would never be rude. Rouden felt more than just hospitable to Amyar. His father had rightly observed that he was crossing a line that may not be uncrossed.

  “We’re close,” Rouden whispered and pointed into the distance. “Through that thicket there’s another clearing, a big one. That’s where it gets more difficult.”

  Amyar, who stood close to Rouden, said, “It’s guarded, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but this is where being a native comes in handy. We won’t go through the clearing directly.”

  “How?” asked Amyar.

  Rouden looked at him and smiled. “Tunnels. A Tansharian’s best friend.”

  They circled the clearing, pushing through the brush, then they stopped.

  “It should be here,” Rouden said, tapping his foot on the ground where there were leaves, twigs and dirt. The suns were getting higher in the sky. They no longer had the cover of darkness.

  He crouched down and began brushing the debris away. Amyar followed his lead and crouched down opposite him to help out. A few moments later, they uncovered a thick, rectangular wooden board. With some effort, Rouden and Amyar moved it, revealing a dark hole.

  “What is that thing made of? It’s heavier than it looks,” Amyar said.

  “Don’t know. My grandfather and some of his friends put it here. It might be something from the old Corceus lumber plains. Come on.” Rouden pushed his way into the hole.

  Unlike the other tunnels Rouden had taken Amyar through, this one wasn’t part of a network. It was just one tunnel, and its only purpose was to provide a secret way to get to the Thasali country palace. They made their way, crawling on their bellies. Rouden felt Amyar behind him, heard his breathing.

  He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hold him and love him. He hated to admit that, but it was true. As much as he wanted freedom from the rule of Amyar’s family, he wanted Amyar.

  For one brief, mad moment, he thought of abandoning the rebel movement altogether and just being with Amyar. He had already abandoned the movement in a way the moment he chose to take the prince away from the safe house. He suspected that the rebel movement was somehow as indelibly marked on him as his former harem boy status was tattooed on his wrist.

  He was saved from more contemplation about his feelings for the rebel movement and for Amyar by the sound of voices, muffled, up ahead.

  The tunnel was connected to a cellar in the palace. Someone was in there. Rouden stopped and reached behind to stop Amyar.

  “What is it?” asked Amyar in a whisper.

  “It’s the wine cellar. I think someone’s in there. Wait.”

  Several moments later, the sounds stopped. They moved once more.

  They continued to advance. The closer they got to the cellar, the tunnel roof got higher. Rouden bumped into a door. Amyar bumped into him.

  Rouden felt around the door for a way to get it open. It was old and seemed to be made of a heavy wood. He found a notch on one side that he could wriggle his finger into, but only just. Carefully and as quietly as possible, he pulled the door open. He hoped the fact that he couldn’t hear voices meant the room they were about to enter was empty.

  They got through and closed the door behind them. It blended in with the dir
t wall.

  Amyar turned on his glow torch, illuminating bottles of wine and, fortunately, no people.

  “Let’s go find your mother,” said Rouden.

  He couldn’t believe he was doing what he was doing. He was going to find the Matriarch and possibly help her. He was certainly helping Amyar. It felt so right. In his heart he hoped it was the right thing for Tanshar, too.

  They found the door that led them out of the wine cellar and into a brightly lit corridor. It was deserted.

  “Maybe the kitchens are this way?” Amyar said, turning off the glow light. “I smell food.”

  Rouden sniffed. “Breakfast, I guess.”

  Before they got very far down the hallway, he heard footsteps. They flattened themselves against the wall, trying to hide in a shadow. A servant carrying a tray with a mug on it walked past them, disappearing down the corridor and then around a corner.

  “He’s probably taking that to my mother’s room, if she’s here,” Amyar said. “Mother won’t be awake yet, but she likes to have her food and drink at a certain temperature when she eats. By the time she wakes up, her meal will be the perfect temperature.”

  “That’s unbelievably fussy,” Rouden said.

  “Perhaps, but she’s always done it as far as I know and no one has ever said no to her.”

  Of course no one has. It would most likely cost them their life if they did, Rouden thought.

  They continued to move through the house, nearly being caught by a guard making a security sweep. They just missed being seen by him by stepping behind a curtain that concealed an alcove filled with uniforms for servants. Rouden took a cautious peek around the curtain. Amyar wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned close enough to nuzzle Rouden’s ear and neck. Rouden felt a shiver work its way from the nape of his neck, down the length of his spine. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.

  “Is this really a good idea?” asked Rouden. “If they catch us…”

  “No. I just couldn’t resist.”

  Rouden savored this moment a little bit longer, the way Amyar’s body felt pressed against his, the way they fit together so beautifully.

  When Rouden could no longer hear footsteps, he took another peek around the curtain.

  “He’s gone,” he said.

  Amyar held onto Rouden’s waist. “Let’s put on some of these uniforms. We’ll need them to get up to Mother’s room.”

  “Why do you need one?” asked Rouden.

  “I want to get us to Mother. It’s our best option,” said Amyar.

  Rouden stepped in the alcove and was met with the aroma of freshly laundered clothes. He took a glow torch out of his pocket and switched it on. He was amazed. The rack of uniforms was far longer than seemed possible.

  “Who wears these?” Rouden asked. The uniforms were black and white and crisp. There were so many of them.

  “I think these are for servers when the Matriarch has guests for dinner. Let’s see here.” Amyar pulled two off the rack. “Try this one.”

  Rouden took the uniform—a jacket with ornate brocaded threads and black trousers. He shrugged into the jacket. It was a snug fit. He tugged at the fabric.

  “This feels really strange. I don’t like this,” he said. The fabric was stiff. The ornamentation dug into his sides.

  “You don’t want to get stopped before we can see my mother, do you? We need to blend in.”

  They finished changing and went up the stairs they had seen a servant go up. The stairs wound up and around until they ended at a landing with a door decorated with ornate gold filigree.

  “I’d wager that my mother’s rooms are through this door,” said Amyar.

  Just then, the ornately decorated door opened. The servant they had seen coming up the stairs had opened the door. He was an old man—fleshy, slightly stooped, and balding. He looked as surprised as Rouden and Amyar were. The old man leaned a little closer to Amyar. His eyes searched Amyar’s face. The prince seemed to be holding his breath.

  “Your Royal Highness?” the old man croaked.

  Swiftly, Rouden moved behind the servant, clamped his hand over the old man’s mouth, and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck.

  The old man looked terrified.

  “What are you doing?” Amyar asked and put his hand on Rouden’s shoulder. “Let him go. He won’t hurt us. I know him. Let go.” He pressed Rouden’s shoulder gently.

  Rouden, not taking his eyes off the old man, reluctantly removed his hand from his mouth. He kept his arm around the servant’s neck.

  “You remember me, sir?” The servant could talk, but Rouden was applying enough pressure for him to know that he should be careful what he said.

  “I do, Leardic.”

  The old man smiled a little. “What are you doing here, sir? We all heard you’d been kidnapped. You’re not wearing your ring.”

  “The ring is in a safe place. I’m looking for my mother. I’ve heard that she’s here.”

  “That she is, sir. She will be most pleased to see you, I’m sure.”

  Rouden removed his arm from Leardic’s neck and took his place next to Amyar. Leardic looked Rouden up and down. Amyar grasped Rouden’s hand and held it.

  “This is Rouden,” said Amyar. “He saved my life.”

  Rouden felt the old man’s appraising eyes on him. It seemed that the old man was less than impressed.

  “He helped me escape my kidnappers.”

  Leardic bowed. “Of course, sir.”

  “Take us to my mother, Leardic,” Amyar said.

  Amyar phrased it as a request, but there was an inflection in his voice. Rouden could tell he meant it as an order. He expected to be obeyed without question.

  Leardic bowed and beckoned them to follow. The corridor was dimly lit by glow sconces placed on the walls. When they reached the end of the corridor, they were met by two large doors. A guard stood at either side. One was deferential to Amyar while the other looked like he was about to fight Rouden.

  A nod from Leardic and a hand gesture from Amyar, and one of them opened the doors. The other bared his teeth, broadened his shoulders, and locked eyes with Rouden. Amyar waved his hand, and they were allowed in. They stepped into a large sitting room decorated in a lower key version of high Thasali royal style. Rouden recognized it from his time in the harem.

  The doors silently closed behind them.

  “Where is my mother?” Amyar asked.

  “Sir. She isn’t alone,” Leardic said.

  “A lover?” Rouden asked. He let go of Amyar’s hand.

  “Oh yes. The most recent one has been the longest lasting. Her assistant. She’s rather plain, but she has something that keeps Mother satisfied.” Amyar turned to Leardic. “Wake my mother as gently as you can.”

  Leardic bowed, turned, and walked away.

  Rouden took the opportunity to take a closer look around the sitting room. He went to a credenza under a window. On the credenza was a collection of rocks. He picked one up and showed it to Amyar.

  “It’s from Grandaup Lake. How did she get this? It’s a deepwater rock.”

  Amyar shrugged. This place seemed to be restoring his royal patina. “It was probably a gift from some grateful Tansharians.”

  “Grateful Tansharians?” Rouden snorted and was about to say something when the door to the bed chamber burst open. The Matriarch swept in.

  “My dear Amyar! My boy!”

  Rouden was astonished at how quickly she closed the distance between herself and her son. She embraced Amyar tightly.

  “Amyar, you must tell me everything. Starting with that one,” she said with a curt nod at Rouden.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reunited with the Matriarch

  Amyar remembered the last time his mother had hugged him. It was a few years ago at his military academy graduation. She’d held him briefly and said she was proud of him.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, Mother, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Looseni
ng her grip on him, she said, “Does your reason for waking me so early have to do with this one? Is this who kidnapped you? Why is he here?” Again, she cast a glance at Rouden, who stood ramrod straight, almost afraid to move.

  “Mother, we need to talk.”

  Leardic pulled over a large ornate chair from under one of the windows for the Matriarch to sit down. Another chair, slightly less ornate but no less comfortable, was for Amyar. The shorter, skimpier chair was for Rouden.

  “Leardic, you can go,” said Amyar. This servant had been with Thasali for so long. That’s why he was allowed so close to the Matriarch even when she slept, but Amyar wasn’t sure who to trust. He didn’t know how far General Eppon’s plot had spread.

  The Matriarch nodded, and the servant left. Amyar wondered what thoughts were going through Rouden’s mind. He doubted Rouden was nervous. Rouden didn’t seem the type to get nervous much, even around someone who was his better.

  That thought gave him pause. He’d always believed Thasali were better than everyone else and entitled to what they had. After his experience in Tanshar, especially with Rouden, he wasn’t so sure. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He had more pressing matters at hand.

  Amyar sat down.

  “Son?”

  He took a deep breath and plunged into the details of what he’d heard the night before negotiations began, about General Eppon’s plan to take Tanshar’s water and dethrone her. It occurred to him that his mother might not believe him. After all, he was only her youngest son on his first trip outside Resedna and a neophyte in palace politics. Eppon was a long trusted military man.

  Rouden joined in when the subject of the negotiations themselves came up. He told of Amyar’s capture by the rebels in the chaos. He also told the Matriarch about learning of the rebels’ plans for the prince and of his subsequent successful attempt getting him away from the rebel safe house. When they got to the end of their recitation, Amyar took another deep breath. His mother said nothing for several moments, but he could tell that she was thinking, probably assessing any and every scenario she could imagine.

  “They took my ring, but don’t worry. I got it back,” said Amyar.

  “What was your role in his kidnapping, harem boy?” she said to Rouden.