“And now I have a poem to recite to you, my lord,” he announced when he stepped back.
“A poem? Nonsense. I am a soldier, and I have no tolerance for poetry.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but the trainers were most specific. I will not be here for the performance, so I must use what I have learned here. They insisted that you would enjoy this particular piece. It tells of a great warrior and how he triumphed over his most vicious enemy. It is one of Diviak’s best-known poems.”
With a sigh, Garghas settled back on the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. “Very well. Get it over with.”
“You will not be disappointed, my lord. Perhaps you would like some wine to sip while you listen?”
“Wine? Yes, that is a commendable suggestion.” Garghas held out the goblet for Azno to refill. He opened only one eye to watch as the performance commenced. Azno took his time, drawing out each syllable of the Old Tongue with exquisite care and modulating his voice so that the poem flowed through his lips like the water of a gentle stream. The storyline of the poem was long and complex, with several characters and even a few otherworldly monsters rounding out the cast. Each character had a monologue in his own voice, and Azno took the time to create a unique tone for each of them. Long before he had reached the climactic battle scene, both of Lord Garghas’s eyes were closed, his goblet resting on his thigh with his fingers loose around the stem.
The moment Azno stopped speaking, though, he began to stir. His eyelids rose cautiously.
“Enough poetry now,” he mumbled. “Time for other things.”
“Of course, my lord. Some more wine first?” Azno lifted the jar. Moving slowly, Garghas tilted the goblet toward him. He was squinting again.
“The light is too strong,” Azno ventured after he had refilled the goblet.
Garghas tossed back a mouthful and rubbed a trickle off his lips. “It is, yes. Why are there so many of those cursed stones? Two would have been sufficient.”
“No matter. I can fix that in a moment.” Strolling around the room in a circle, Azno covered each of the glowing rocks with square black cloths kept folded beside them for that purpose. The room dimmed appreciably, though in fact it had not been especially bright before. But Azno was not inclined to argue. He moved to stand in front of Garghas. “Is that better, my lord?”
“Mmm.” Garghas reached out and wrapped his fingers around the soft, slim wrist closest to his right hand. He pulled forward. “Enough talk. Enough wasting time. I am ready. Please me.”
“You know I have not finished my training. I must proceed slowly so I do not disappoint you, my lord. The trainers were most specific about that and I dare not disobey them.”
“The trainers be damned. They are nothing to you now. I am your master, and I want your attention.” Garghas pulled harder on the wrist. He grunted when the figure crouched between his legs and rested a soft cheek on his partially bared thigh.
“Close your eyes, my lord,” came a gentle whisper. “Everything will be perfect tonight.”
“Perfect. Yes. Yes, it will be.” Garghas leaned forward. He planted rough kisses along one supple, taught shoulder. “You taste like oghi spice. Very expensive, you know. Hard to come by in the country.”
The reply came wrapped in a low, throaty laugh. “Well, I shall always be available to you once we are there. Will you do one thing for me, my lord?”
“Do one…?” Garghas paused as his voice trailed off in confusion. “What?”
“Mark me, my lord. With your teeth. I will never wear the harem tattoo, but I would like to have something better. Something that will show everyone I meet that I am yours.”
“With my teeth?” This time Garghas was the one to laugh, his tone raucous and carefree. “You think I am a wild beast?”
“No…but perhaps I would like you to be.”
“In that case, hold still for a moment. I want to taste you when I do it.”
“You do me a great honor, my lord,” came the nervous whisper. That trailed off into a startled but gleeful squeal as Garghas bared his teeth and applied the most unusual, but memorable kiss of his life.
*~*~*
Chadan tried to turn around and head back inside the palace when he came across Mekko drinking beside a small pool filled with colorful tralicot. The shiny creatures basked and turned, swishing their tails along the surface. Unfortunately, Mekko spotted him before he had a chance to retreat.
“Greetings, Master Chadan. Come and sit beside me. Join me in some refreshment.”
Mekko patted a cushion on the bench beside him and indicated a small tripod bearing a bowl of sweetmeats and a goblet of pagvee brandy. Chadan shook his head. “I must prepare tomorrow’s lessons.”
“I think they can wait. Especially knowing your most prized pupil will not be there.”
Chadan felt his temper flare. It had been a long, miserable day. But then, every day seemed like that lately. “You should not speak about things you know nothing of.”
“Perhaps, but that warning would not apply in this case.” Mekko patted the pillow again. “Settle yourself. We ought to talk about the concert, you know. I understand there have been changes. It must be hard to lose your best performer.”
“As I said—you know nothing of the situation.”
“It was time for Azno to go to Garghas. You know that as well as I do. The prince wills it, which is justification enough. However, you also know it is for your own good.”
“Don’t presume to know or say what is for my own good!”
Chadan’s outburst caused two palace guards, standing in a nearby doorway, to tense into alertness. Mekko reached up and clasped Chadan’s hand, pulling him down.
“Steady on, my friend. Sit.”
With a sigh, Chadan dropped down. A servant appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and handed him a goblet filled with sweet, strong brandy. He drank too deeply and too quickly. It burned going down. He tasted nothing.
“You will survive this interruption to your plans for the concert, I know. Your competence has never been questioned, Master Chadan. If I might be bold, however…your judgment is another matter.”
Chadan lowered the goblet and glared. “I resent the implication.”
Mekko patted Chadan’s thigh. Chadan was too startled to flinch. Mekko had never treated him with anything but disdain. Tonight, he seemed sympathetic.
“Be happy, Haerek. Life is short and difficult enough as it is. Enjoy fine wine, good food, sweet music.” Mekko waved his hand. “Perhaps we cannot have everything we want. But we must learn to appreciate what we have. As far as you and I are concerned, that is more luxury and comfort than most people will ever see in their entire lives.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“No? Your actions suggests otherwise.”
“Is there a purpose to this lecture?”
“Only that you must let your life happen as it unfolds. Do not interfere in what is meant to be. That will only bring you pain. You might as well know that I have tried it and it never works.”
Chadan scowled. He drank some more brandy. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Lord Garghas and your Azno are together, now. Tonight, they will join their bodies for the first of many, many times. No doubt it has already happened.”
“Stop it.”
“I won’t. You need to hear it. To face it. They will leave together tomorrow. The prospect outrages you.”
“Of course, it does. His talent is not to be taken lightly. Garghas will never appreciate it. All that skill—that power to create beautiful poetry and change lives with mere words? It will be lost. Garghas is a barbarian.”
“He may be. But he is a nobleman as well.” Mekko tilted his head and gazed up at the stars. “Love is a strange thing, isn’t it? We cannot touch it, and we certainly cannot hold onto it no matter how strong we are. It is as fleeting as air, and as insubstantial, and yet we would do anything, risk anything, just to grasp it for a moment.”
“Not here, it can’t.” Mekko patted his knee again. “Let the brandy work its magic tonight. Lie down in your room. Rest. Cry. Imagine what it would be like to die of a broken heart. Tomorrow, wake up and start the rest of your life. It can and will be better than you ever dreamed…providing you let go of wishes for things that can never be.”
“I have already let go.” Fighting back tears, Chadan motioned to the servant for more brandy. His goblet was refilled, and he drank some more. The servant returned. He drank again, while Mekko muttered words of encouragement and even comfort. Finally, Chadan rose, feeling none too steady on his feet, and stumbled away. Mekko didn’t follow.
It seemed to take forever to get to his room again. The palace seemed unusually quiet. The royals were all off enjoying themselves after an evening of feasting. And Azno was off with Garghas.
Or at least he had expected that to be the case. But no.
Chadan stopped short, almost stumbling in his tipsy state.
Azno was at his door, dressed again in the rich robe Garghas had gifted him with. They had been together, Chadan knew that. Had Azno crept out after a sated Garghas fallen asleep?
“Go back to him,” he ordered. The words emerged in a snarl.
“No, Master Chadan. I will not. Don’t you see? We must leave here together. Now is our chance.”
“Are you mad? He has claimed you as his own.”
Azno blushed. “How do you know that? Do you trust me so little?”
“You have done what you were ordered to do. I cannot fault you for that. But I cannot interfere. Go!”
“I will not go.”
“You will.” Chadan lunged toward him, but Azno sidestepped him.
“Are you saying there is nothing between us?”
“Nothing we can ever acknowledge, or even speak of again. You are the property of Lord Garghas now. Prince Baboye himself has given you to him.”
“I don’t care what the prince wants. You know I am yours alone.”
“Fool! Do not say such things!” Near panic, Chadan glanced up and down the corridor to make sure they were alone. “Please go, Azno. Give Lord Garghas a chance. Perhaps he will cherish you as…as I would have.”
Breaking down, Chadan leaned against the wall and put his hand over his face. Tears leaked through the spaces between his fingers. Azno came forward and touched his arm. Chadan reeled backward as though a flame had touched him.
“Leave me!” His shout came out hoarse and ragged. “You are forfeiting your life if you are even seen with me. Your master will be looking for you. Go!”
“He is not. I saw to that.”
Drunk, then, Chadan thought. The beast had taken his pleasures with Azno and drunk himself into a stupor. Still, he would expect Azno to be there when he awoke.
“You cannot stay here, Azno.”
“I won’t go back to him. I won’t!”
“Then go where you like. But not here.”
Stunned, Azno stepped back and then turned and fled, loudly choking back a sob. Chadan pushed open the door to his room and fell to the floor, wishing death would claim him. He felt only relief when he drifted off into an alcohol-fueled stupor. Not even dreams dared to come near him. He slept in total oblivion until, much later, he heard shouts.
Someone was pounding on his door. With some effort, he wrenched it open and found Eru and Toaz staring at him.
“He is gone,” Eru told Chadan. “Tell us the truth. Do you know where?”
“Gone? Who? What are you talking about?”
“You know well enough.” Eru pulled Toaz forward, though not roughly. “I have already questioned this young man. He claims to know nothing. One of you is surely lying.”
“I am not!” Toaz protested.
“Please, Chadan. You must tell us the truth,” Eru said. “It is for his own safety. Garghas doesn’t know yet. But he will, and soon.”
The mention of Garghas made Chadan’s head spin. Yes. He remembered now. Eru’s words rang in his head until they began to make sense. While he stood there trying to collect his thoughts, Eru stepped inside his rooms and glanced around. Relief showed on his face when he found no one else there.
Finally, Chadan was able to speak coherently.
“Azno is gone? Toaz? Is this true? You know nothing of his whereabouts?”
Toaz simply gazed forlornly at Chadan, who felt his chest constrict. “No, Master Chadan.”
“Would he go to the city?” Eru asked. “He knew how to sneak out of the palace. I saw him do it more than once—but I said nothing. I know that was a mistake.” He studied the floor in shame. Chadan realized that Eru knew exactly where both he and Azno had gone on a certain morning, too. Yet he had not betrayed them. That surprised Chadan until he recalled the scene he had witnessed between Eru and Pikor. When Eru raised his head and gave him an agonized look, understanding broke over him.
“Not to the city—not exactly,” Chadan said. “To Shebi.”
Chapter Nine
“We will go and bring him back,” Eru said. “If we hurry, perhaps we can contain the damage.”
Chadan nodded. He wondered exactly what damage Eru referred to. Damage to their own positions, damage to the harem’s reputation…damage to Azno himself? His hands felt numb with dread when he thought about Azno, confused and afraid, fleeing through the city streets in the middle of the night. Why had Chadan sent him away the night before? There had to be a better way to handle the situation—even if grabbing Azno and pulling him close for a blistering kiss wasn’t one of the possibilities.
“We must bring him back quickly, before Master Oraj finds out what has happened,” Eru continued. His face paled. “To say nothing of Lord Garghas.”
Toaz stepped forward, his eyes bright with excitement. “I shall go along, Master Chadan,” he announced.
“You shall not,” said Eru. Undeterred, Toaz rushed on.
“I will use myself as bait. I shall pretend I am leaving the harem and see where Shebi’s servants conduct me. That is where we shall find Azno as well.”
“He may be right,” Chadan said. “If we appear to be from the palace, Shebi may panic and think we have come to arrest him. He will simply hide the boy and deny everything.”
“I will tell them the newest trainer is too cruel,” Toaz went on. Chadan could tell that he was an experienced fibber who could make up a convincing story on a whim. He decided not to dwell on that. Instead, he motioned his agreement to Eru.
“If this is the fastest way, then let us do it.”
“I will need a few minutes to dress,” Chadan said, indicating his disheveled robe.
“May I assist you, Master Chadan?” Toaz asked sweetly.
“This way,” Eru said, taking his arm and steering him to the left. “We will meet you at the back gate, Master Chadan. From there, we will take a cart and hide Toaz in the back. If questioned, we can say we are going to the market to look for props and costumes for the concert.”
“Very well,” Chadan said, stepping back inside his lodgings. The irony of the excuse was not lost on him, especially when his gaze fell upon the lyre propped in the corner. “I will meet you there directly. Then we can leave at once.”
“Do hurry, Master Chadan,” Eru urged. The reminder was unnecessary, as Chadan had never washed and dressed with such efficient speed. When he reached the back gate, he found that Eru had encountered no difficulty rounding up a xoxobeast and a small wagon. Chadan forced himself not to glance at the large, crumpled sack behind the bench, trusting it would not move as they trotted past a series of guards, servants, and even a pair of courtiers out for an early-morning stroll.
They didn’t talk much on the short ride into the city. Chadan could see the tension wringing Eru’s face, which he assumed came from a fear of being punished. After all, the defection of a harem boy—or, depending how one looked at it—the disappearance of a great lord’s prized possession—woul
d probably result in some unpleasant recriminations among Oraj’s staff. From what little Chadan knew of Oraj, he would not have cared to be on his bad side.
Toaz, no doubt wisely, remained silent and still under the sacks in the back. Only once did Chadan see him peek out and flash a grin. Clearly, he was nowhere near as worried about his friend as Eru and Chadan were. It occurred to Chadan that Toaz knew more about Azno’s flight from the palace than he was letting on. That gave him fodder for some unsettling thoughts that occupied him for the majority of the journey.
By the time they had left the xoxobeast and cart at a public stable and arrived at the tall gates surrounding the brothel, the morning meal was wrapping up. Beautiful boys lounged in the courtyard, some wearing very little in the morning sun, munching on fruit and bread. Chadan had almost forgotten that he had missed his morning meal. From a place of concealment behind a neighboring structure, he occupied himself with scanning the group as they laughed, gossiped, and poked one another playfully. Clearly, all of them seemed perfectly content to be in Shebi’s employ.
Presently Chadan turned back to Eru and Toaz, who now stood between them, staring at the brothel workers with blatant curiosity. “Azno is not among them.” He didn’t see Rufi, either, which came as a relief.
“No surprise,” Eru said with a snort. “Shebi is no fool. He will be hiding the boy somewhere.”
“I’ll go inside,” Toaz offered. “I will tell the doorkeeper I was tossed from the harem for refusing to perform an act I found repugnant.” He giggled. “The story is that Shebi himself was turned out for the same reason many eons ago.”
Eru sniffed. “You should not indulge yourself by listening to or repeating such tales.”
“Don’t worry, Master Eru. You know there is very little I find repugnant when it comes to the art of love...though even I have my standards. Anyhow, I will tell them that Azno begged me to join him here just before he left. I decided to do so when I was cast out.”
“It could work,” Eru conceded.
“Then what?” Chadan fretted. “Are we going to drag him into the wagon? Because I will have no part of that, Eru.”
Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set Page 42
