Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set

by Danielle Summers

  Most of all, though, he heard Azno’s voice—soaring above the others, wrapping around Chadan’s suffering heart and squeezing the very blood from it. He struggled not to let the raw desire flooding his body show on his face.

  “Much better,” he said, managing to keep his voice even. He clapped his hands. “Let us ready ourselves for supper now. You may be pleased with yourselves—you have comported yourselves with most praiseworthy effort.”

  They scattered, chattering and laughing again, some blushing with pride. They were good young men, he reflected. They did want to please him—much as they would one day want to please the highborn lovers who came to them for relief and comfort. That was no surprise—they had been chosen for that trait.

  And Azno would be pleasing Garghas. The thought made Chadan’s stomach clench painfully. He pretended to be studying his lesson plans as the initiates filed out of the room.

  When he cleared his mind and raised his head again, Azno stood in front of him. It took every thread of strength in him not to gasp. Somehow, he managed, but he could feel his body going as taut as the strings of the country lyres he’d seen in the marketplace that morning.

  The moment Chadan raised his head, Azno blinked and took a step back. He sensed the change in Chadan. Did he know what caused it? Chadan was not sure whether he wished him to know or not.

  Azno licked his lips “Will you read my translation, Master? I’ve written some more of it. Perhaps I am too close to my work. I cannot tell if it is good or merely fanciful. I would value your opinion.”

  He gave a self-conscious laugh and held out a small scroll.

  Chadan shook his head, hating himself even while he did it. “I must beg off this time, Azno. It has been a long day.”

  Azno’s shoulders slumped. He clearly misunderstood the reason for the response. He thought Chadan was rejecting his work—and therefore him. Chadan longed to reassure him, but he did not dare to speak.

  Stiffly, Azno bowed. “I apologize for wasting your time, Master. Your kindness in the past will never be forgotten. I will not presume so far again.”

  “No,” Chadan started to say. He held up a hand, but he was too late. Azno didn’t see it. He had turned away and walked off after the others, slouching in disappointment. Through the open double doors, Chadan could see Toaz turn and say something to him as they moved down the hall. Azno brightened a little and squeezed Toaz’s arm.

  Chadan decided to let the matter go. Azno deserved to be happy, and there was no happiness along the path Chadan was currently traveling down. He could not take Azno with him.

  Tonight, the royals were absent from dinner, no doubt meeting in one of the private banquet rooms. Chadan chose a table at random and barely listened to the conversation of Pikor, the history master and Eru, one of the younger sex trainers. They were talking of the harems of old and took little notice of him, since they were enjoying their wine and one another. Chadan wondered if they would share a bed later. It was not unknown for two tutors to become lovers, though it was not exactly encouraged. Sadly, Chadan found none of them to his liking. It would have made his life easier. A sex trainer would probably be a fine bed companion. Such a man would not lack imagination or techniques to please a partner.

  After the meal, he was feeling a little groggy from the wine. He had been a terrible companion to his fellow masters, sullen and monosyllabic. Guilt wracked him as he excused himself and wandered to the rear portion of the dining hall where the harem youths ate. The initiates were at their own table, with the more experienced members free to sit where and with whom they pleased. A few stone-faced guards were positioned around the room—protecting them from what, Chadan wondered? Jealous lovers? Kidnappers? Overly amorous minor royals?

  Chadan scanned each table in turn. Azno was not there. His chest deflated in a mixture of relief and disappointment.

  Vague strains of music called him toward the courtyard. He passed through the open doors at the back of the dining hall and stepped into the newly fallen darkness. A group of courtiers, including some of the princes, had convened outdoors, lounging on chairs and in hammocks while listening to a clear-voiced minstrel sing traditional ballads. All had senior harem boys draped across their laps. Some of the young men were entirely nude as they popped fresh berries into the princes’ mouths and tilted ornate goblets to their lips. Under a tree near the back garden wall, Prince Vidnar was stretched out on a blanket, stroking his chosen one’s cock. The young man’s name was Naziq, Chadan knew, for he had taught him poetry two years earlier. He paused to watch discreetly.

  Vidnar’s own erection rose against his gold silk garments and the harem boy massaged it through the cloth. How quickly Vidnar had gotten over the loss of his young man, Charis, who had been kidnapped and perhaps killed. His indifference did not surprise Chadan. The royals were like that. In most cases, the harem youths were little more than toys to them, to be discarded at will. The young men knew and accepted that. Once released from service, they would have to make their own way in the world, like Shebi had.

  Would Garghas discard Azno like that?

  Chadan watched Vidnar tug away the lower portion of his robe and bare his cock. Naziq shifted position and bent down to suck it. Chadan felt his breath quicken and grow shallow. How bold they were. True, they were seated in the shadows, where no one could see them unless he made a special effort, as Chadan had.

  And, Chadan realized with a start, so had Azno. For he was there, hidden behind a flowering plant just a few yards away. He had come to stare at them, just like Chadan. And now he was watching Chadan watch him.

  Chadan tilted his head, motioning toward the opposite end of the garden. Azno nodded and slipped away into the night, silent as a shadow himself. Chadan waited a few moments before following.

  They met at the edge of the terrace, under a tree where they were sufficiently obscured from the other courtiers milling about. The garden was just populated enough that they would not stand out in the slowly increasing crowd.

  Azno fidgeted. The moon illuminated two dark splotches on his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I should not have been spying on the princes.”

  “Indeed not. Why are you not in the dining hall, with the others?”

  “I excused myself early, pleading fatigue. No one noticed that I came here instead of going to my room—or perhaps they assumed Lord Garghas had sent for me.” He pointed to his left, where Chadan saw Garghas and Prince Baboye standing beside a fountain, drinking and talking. They did not seem to notice Azno.

  Chadan nodded. “What did you hope to find out here? Aside from Lord Garghas, I mean.”

  “I’m not sure. But…I wondered what awaited me, when it was my turn to serve a lover. I suspected it was not like what we are shown in sex training.” His gaze strayed toward Prince Vidnar and Naziq again. “I wanted to see the real thing.”

  “And now you have. So, what did you think? Did it look appealing to you?”

  “In some ways. I am not unaware of bodily pleasures and how to achieve them, of course. The sex trainers are most thorough.”

  “I can imagine.” Chadan’s jaw went rigid. Had Eru sampled Azno’s pleasure-giving techniques? Had he placed his hands on Azno’s nude body in the service of giving instruction?

  Misunderstanding the cause of Chadan’s anger, Azno lowered his head. The moonlight gleamed on his long, dusky lashes, smooth cheeks, and full lips. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Master. You may punish me if you like.”

  Chadan blinked. “No. I’m not upset with you. In fact…I want to apologize about not reading your poem this afternoon. My curtness was inexcusable.”

  “It’s all right. I should not have been bothering you. I know you’re very busy. The concert and all.”

  “It wasn’t that. I really did feel ill. Or at least…I wasn’t myself.”

  “To be honest, Master, I noticed that during the rehearsal. Are you better now?”

  “Yes.” Chadan wanted to pinch himself f
or revealing too much, yet the words flooded out of their own accord. “I walked into the marketplace this morning and indulged in some spicy food I should not have eaten. Perhaps I had a reaction.”

  “That is possible.” Azno nodded and then paused. “Do you often go to the marketplace in the morning?”

  Chadan started to say no and explain that he had simply wanted to do something out of his ordinary routine, but that might have prompted questions about why. Instead he decided to sidestep the question entirely.

  “I’ll read your poem on the morrow, if you like.”

  The flickering firelight in the courtyard illuminated Azno’s smile. “No need. I suspected I might see you this evening, so I brought it along.” He drew the scroll from an inner pocket inside the wide sleeve of his evening tunic. Chadan took it in numb fingers as Azno winked. “I don’t need to read it, though. I can perform it from memory. Shall I?”

  Chadan nodded. Azno stepped back, briefly closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he began to recite, his voice came alive in a way it never had before. It seemed as though Diviak himself had been reborn, his essence and his art flowing effortlessly through the lips of this beautiful young man. Chadan had never heard anything that moved him quite as much.

  Distantly, he heard a sound that reminded him of glass shattering, and he knew it was the sound of his own heart breaking with love. There was no more denying it. He was lost, utterly lost. And he would take Azno down with him if he didn’t bind his heart and his mind and stay away.

  When he finished the poem, Azno smiled. He knew he had been successful. His line about not knowing if it was good work had been a ruse. For the first time, Chadan realized that Azno likely felt the same way he did. What shone in the youth’s eyes was more than just admiration for a favorite teacher.

  “Well?”

  “It was perfection. Wonderful, absolute perfection.”

  Slowly, Chadan raised his hand and placed his palm on Azno’s cheek. Azno turned his head into the gesture and it seemed that they melted together. Chadan imagined he could taste those perfect lips. He had no need to do it in reality. He knew the fantasy was better than the actual act could ever be. So many poems said as much.

  Still, he longed to put the comparison to the test.

  “Do…do you think…?” Azno stammered.

  Before he could finish, a scuffling sound bade them step back. Chadan dropped his hand back to his side. He turned with a casual smile, only to encounter Mekko. Of all the cursed missteps! Hastily Chadan pulled himself together and affected an air of nonchalance.

  “Enjoying the moonlight?” Mekko asked, looking from one to the other. His brows were raised in an arch expression Chadan would have loved to slap off his face.

  “We were discussing a poem, Master,” Azno said, indicating the scroll in Chadan’s hand.

  Chadan relaxed a bit, grateful for Azno’s quick thinking. He had forgotten all about it even though it was still clenched in his fingers.

  “You work too hard, Master Chadan.” Mekko shook his head with mock concern. “What poem? For the recital?”

  “Perhaps. We have not decided yet. It is a translation.” Chadan handed it over. Mekko opened it and seemed surprised to find that it was exactly what they claimed. That gave Chadan additional satisfaction.

  Mekko scanned it and nodded. “How nice. Diviak?”

  “It is believed so, but no one knows exactly who wrote it, Master,” Azno said. He bowed. “I will take my leave now. Good night and thank you for your advice, Master Chadan.”

  Mekko gave him back the scroll, crossed his arms, and watched him hurry away. “A talented student, isn’t he?” he asked Chadan.

  “My best.”

  “It must be hard to teach them with a poetic soul like yours. It must be so easy to confuse the emotion from the poetry with the emotion in your heart. It must simply bubble up.”

  “Not really. I have enough experience to control it—channel my feeling into my work.” Chadan narrowed his eyes and his voice grew hard. “My passion is for the poems, Mekko, not the boys.”

  “Are they so easy to separate?” Mekko laughed. He waved a hand in the air. “My students are like songs to me. They make my blood rush. Yet I know enough to seek my friend Shebi’s wares when I get into a bind. It works every time. Do you know Shebi? Most discreet.”

  “Does not everyone? And now I hope you will excuse me, Mekko. It has been a longer day than I care to remember.”

  With another coarse laugh, Mekko sauntered off to join the princes. Chadan hastened back inside the palace and headed for his room. Thank goodness Azno had brought the scroll, so that no one could prove they had engaged in anything more than a literary consultation. Yet Chadan couldn’t help but think they were both now under suspicion. That was the way Mekko worked—the man was as lithe and treacherous as a serpent. Who knew how long he had been watching them? Perhaps from the very moment Chadan had left the table.

  After tonight, he suspected, everything would change.

  Chapter Four

  Chadan woke early the next morning, though his mind felt cloudy and his body ached as though he had overslept. He heard a knock while he was splashing water on his face and froze.

  Surely it couldn’t be Azno. Students did not walk past the masters’ rooms on their way to meals or lessons. The compound was specially designed to avoid that very situation.

  He threw on a dressing gown and opened the door. There he found Vaghos, ready for the morning meal.

  “I thought we might walk down together,” Vaghos said.

  “But…you’re far too early.”

  “In fact, I am not. There was an announcement this morning. All lessons are cancelled so that we may attend the princes at an outdoor gathering. They claim it will last all day and into the night.”

  Chadan stepped back, dazed.

  “Are you unwell?” Vaghos pressed.

  “No. But…how can this be? My rehearsals! I can’t afford to lose an entire day’s worth!”

  “There will be no rehearsals today. Prince Baboye is concerned that everyone is working too hard and that is why we are not achieving the results we want with respect to the boys’ performances. He feels a day of rest and entertainment will refresh everyone’s spirits and improve the performances in the long run.”

  “This is…” Chadan started to argue but stopped himself. Vaghos could hardly go against the prince’s orders, any more than he could. He stepped back from the door with a sigh. “Come in. I’ll get ready quickly. Will you wait?”

  Vaghos nodded and stepped into the room. Chadan was sure he saw the dancing master’s eyes sweep the chamber, as though he were checking to see if anyone else might be hiding within. He took one of the comfortable chairs and stared at the bookshelf while Chadan hastily slipped behind the changing screen and grabbed one of the robes hanging on the pegs there.

  “I’ll just be a moment,” Chadan called out as he hastily wrapped himself in a patterned green garment of a rather more expensive cut than he usually favored. It had been a gift from Prince Baboye upon his completion of five years’ exemplary service in the harem school. It could not hurt to remind his colleagues of that honor, he decided a bit smugly.

  “I hear you’ve been working too hard, Haerek,” Vaghos suggested, raising his voice so Chadan could hear him from across the room. “I can understand it, of course. The recital and all.”

  Chadan didn’t stop to wonder who might have placed that particular insect in Vaghos’s ear. He decided to play it off as casual conversation, though he knew the real intent was to confront him about his careless behavior in the garden.

  “It has been a trial. Their pronunciation was hopeless at first,” Chadan called from behind his dressing screen. “Yet by and by they are getting better.”

  “Their dancing is abysmal also. Still, I think there may be hope for them after all.” Vaghos paused to clear his throat. “The point, however, is that I do not take my work back to my rooms with me. Onc
e the lessons and rehearsals are done for the afternoon, I push them from my mind and try to enjoy my evening.”

  “Very sensible, I’m sure. I shall try harder to do the same.”

  “I cannot help but think that would be wise.”

  Chadan emerged from behind the screen, dressed. Vaghos rose and nodded his approval as Chadan spread his arms to show off the way his robe caught the light and flattered the shape of his body.

  “You see I am ready for anything today.” Chadan offered a smile that concealed the secret resentment that had begun to boil inside him. Who was Vaghos to give him advice, after all? The man had less than half his experience as a teacher and no understanding of literature at all. He specialized in making young men dance in various states of undress, keeping the steps tasteful while arousing the nobles in the audience. Granted, that may have required a certain amount of technical skill, but it hardly qualified Vaghos to counsel others in matters of the heart.

  Still, no doubt he meant well. He could see that something was troubling Chadan and he had reached out a figurative hand of support. That was more than Mekko had done, certainly.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Vaghos said as they headed for the door together. “And your choice of robe seems fortuitous. I suspect we will have a longer and more elegant feast than usual today.”

  “Oh? Why?” Chadan frowned. Had some occasion been declared that he had forgotten?

  “Didn’t I mention? The event is being held in Lord Garghas’s honor. The prince is keen to reward him for his fine service in dealing with an insurrection. I suspect we will hear a few more war stories today than I normally care to. Nonetheless, if the wine is good and the entertainment pleasing, I am willing to bear it.”

  Chadan felt his blood run cold when Vaghos slapped him cheerfully on the shoulder.

  “You’ll enjoy it, Haerek. You need a diversion. For now, I beg you, put aside what is troubling you. I know it will all look better on the morrow—the rehearsal included.”