Flameseeker (Book 3)

by R. M. Prioleau

  “Gods be damned! This water’s freezing!” Kaijin exclaimed.

  Omari’s eyebrow arched, and he shook his head. “Of course it is, Kaijin. It is spring water brought in from the underground reservoirs that lie deep beneath this place.”

  “Can’t we warm it? Just a bit?”

  “No. My people consider spring water to be pure in its natural form. Heating it only taints it. Now, enough of your complaining.” He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Kaijin sat down across from Omari and drew his knees to his chest. His teeth began to chatter, and he was unable to stop them. Omari’s crazy to think this water is comfortable to bathe in! His necklace came in contact with the water and glowed; soothing warmth started on his chest and filled his body, easing the cold. He exhaled and stretched his legs out.

  Omari sneered. “Do you never take that confounded thing off?”

  Kaijin grabbed the charm. “No. I’ve had this since I was a child.”

  Omari scoffed. “I have had my spellbook since I was a child, but you do not see me bathing with it.”

  “It means a lot to me.”

  “It will just get ruined.”

  Kaijin smiled and held up the golden symbol. Plumes of steam rose from it, and the charm glistened like brand new. “It’s resistant to water, I think.”

  Kaijin heard the doors upstairs creak open again, and moments later, three maidservants dressed in white wrap-around sarees descended the stairs. Two of them drew near the edge of the pool, carrying small baskets of various colored bottles and white towels and washcloths. Kaijin gawked. What the—? What are they doing here? He noticed a third maidservant rush over and retrieve Kaijin and Omari’s discarded clothes, and then head back toward the stairs.

  “Ah!” Kaijin called to the young woman, who looked no older than sixteen. “Wait! Where are you going with our clothes?”

  The woman paused, but she didn’t look back, nor did she respond. She hurried up the stairs and was out of sight.

  “Relax, Kaijin,” Omari said, his eyes fixed wolfishly on the remaining two women. “She is going to clean our clothes. She will return with them later.”

  Great. Sighing, Kaijin returned his attention to them as well. His cheeks heated, and he kept his body tightly curled and out of the women’s line of sight.

  One of the women, who looked about Kaijin’s age and wore her long black hair in a single braid, smiled brightly at Omari. “Master Batsuyou! When I heard you had returned, I just had to see for myself. I cannot believe it is really you! It has been so long!”

  Omari tilted his head and squinted at her. “I am sorry. Do I know you?”

  She set her basket down and sat at the edge of the pool. “I am Ta’mei. We were both children when I last saw you and you were leaving with your father to go to Aransiya. I had only just begun as a bath attendant, but I had the honor of tending to you back then.”

  “Ta’mei ...” Omari repeated softly.

  Kaijin looked back and forth between the two, staying silent.

  Ta’mei slowly traced her finger in the water and leered at Omari. “When did you get so handsome?”

  Omari grinned. “There was never a ‘when’. I always was.”

  Oh, gods ... Kaijin thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Omari took her hand and kissed the top. “I cannot believe my father still has you working as a bath attendant. He should let you go.”

  Blushing, Ta’mei slid her hand away and knelt behind him. “It is all right. I do enjoy it here. Besides, I have the great honor of seeing you again.”

  Omari smiled.

  “Now then, about that bath ...” She selected a bottle from the basket, poured a small amount of bluish liquid onto her hands, and began to massage his back. Omari closed his eyes.

  Kaijin continued watching, when he suddenly felt a pair of soft, delicate hands caress his shoulders, and he flinched.

  “Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. My name is Asha,” the woman greeted him in a rich accent.

  Kaijin looked behind him. Asha’s long ebony hair was plaited into diamond-like designs with small silver beads that secured the ends. Her bronze skin was smooth, free of blemishes. She gazed upon Kaijin with intriguing dark brown eyes.

  Kaijin gulped. “Uh ... Hello. I’m Kaijin.”

  His heart pounded against his chest as she smiled at him. “I am here to give you your bath.”

  “Uh ...” Before Kaijin could answer, her soft hands glided over his back. He stared into the water, his face feeling hotter.

  Asha gasped.

  He felt a slight tickle on his upper back. “What?”

  “You have a strange scar on your back. Does it hurt when I touch it?”

  “Scar?” Kaijin thought for a moment, then he looked behind him.

  Asha scooted off to the side, revealing the mirror hanging behind her. She pointed to the scabbed-over mark: the shape of a flame—Ignis’s symbol.

  He blinked, remembering his dream. So it was all real. It was really Him! He turned back around, trying to avoid making too much of a deal about it in front of everyone. “Ah ... Don’t worry about that. I’m, uh ... learning more about Ignis. Sometimes my studies require me to go to some ... extremes. But I am okay. Really.”

  Asha nodded slowly. “Okay.” She began lightly scrubbing his back with a floral-scented washcloth.

  The back scrub felt wonderful, though Kaijin began to get nervous when she started scrubbing further down his back. She got close to his tailbone, and he jerked in embarrassment.

  Omari snickered.

  “What’s so funny?” Kaijin asked.

  Omari smiled coyly. “You.”

  Asha reached around him and began scrubbing his chest with the cloth. Feeling trapped, all Kaijin could do was watch her. This is just getting too weird.

  “Dare I ask if you have ever been tended to by a woman before, Kaijin?” Omari asked.

  Kaijin shot him a look. Really? Did he really just ask me that? “What kind of question is that?”

  “Right. I take that as a ‘no.’”

  The two women giggled softly. Asha scrubbed around Kaijin’s belly and abdomen. Kaijin clenched his legs together. He felt her face draw close to his cheek. She had a different floral scent, like moonflower.

  Omari appeared to be in a state of bliss. Ta’mei’s hand was underwater, most likely scrubbing in places that Kaijin considered off-limits. Ta’mei smirked devilishly at Omari. Feeling Asha’s hand going far too low for comfort, Kaijin gently put his hand over hers, stopping her.

  “I, uh ... I can do that myself.” He took the cloth.

  She looked slightly surprised at him, and then furrowed her brow at Omari.

  “Do not trouble yourself, Asha,” Omari said simply. “He is a foreigner.”

  Kaijin finished washing himself, then handed the cloth back to Asha. “Thank you.”

  She smiled, placed the cloth back in the basket, and retrieved a small, purple-tinted jar of liquid. She uncorked the top. The scent of lilacs wafted from it. She washed his hair, massaging his scalp, and then rinsed both thoroughly.

  Omari beckoned to Percival, who sprang up from his rock and scampered to a higher one. Omari glared at the weasel, and the eyes of mage and familiar both glowed briefly—Percival was likely getting a talking to.

  The weasel reluctantly crawled down the rocks and into Ta’mei’s arms. She gently dunked him and scrubbed his fur with her fingers.

  Percival let out squeaks of protest and squirmed. Omari gave him a stern frown.

  Ta’mei finished and toweled off the weasel. She groomed his messy fur until it was neat and smooth.

  “He didn’t seem to like that too much, Omari,” Kaijin said. “Did you have to make him get a bath?”

  “Of course.” Then Omari added, pointing above, “And Miele will need one as well.”

  Kaijin looked up to one of the high rocks, where Miele rested. “But she prefers to bathe herself.”

  “Kaijin,�
� Omari said sharply. “If Miele is going to be in the same room as my father, then she must be bathed. No exceptions.”

  Kaijin looked at him sourly, then to Asha. “Fine.” “I’m sorry, Miele. We don’t have much of a choice here. Come down, please.”

  Miele let out a screech of protest, but Kaijin mentally prodded her, and she reluctantly flew down to land in his hands. He looked at Asha warily. “Have you ever bathed a bat before?”

  Asha laughed. “Of course, Kaijin. We have had visitors with all sorts of animal companions, including bats.”

  Kaijin nodded slowly, still reluctant to hand Miele over to the woman. “Please be careful with her.”

  “Oh, confound it, Kaijin! Just let her bathe Miele already!” Omari sounded exasperated.

  Kaijin shot him a glare, then slowly held out his familiar to Asha. Carefully, Asha plucked Miele from him. She dipped Miele in the water, and using small circular motions with her fingers, meticulously cleaned her body.

  Miele screeched, and Kaijin winced, feeling her discomfort.

  Asha gently pulled out her wings, scrubbing the membranes. After she finished the bath, Asha wrapped a small towel around Miele’s shivering body and dried her thoroughly. She held Miele like a tiny baby and smiled down to her.

  “Kaijin,” Omari called, making Kaijin look from the girl to him. “You are going to be meeting my father, and there are a few rules you must adhere to.”

  “Such as?” Kaijin asked, trying to ignore Miele’s whines in his head.

  “Small things to a foreigner like you, but important ones, nonetheless,” Omari replied. “In case you have forgotten, you do not shake hands in greeting. Never ever touch the shak’ha under any circumstances, lest he says otherwise. You must bow. Always bow. Since you are a foreigner, you will bow deeply, from the waist, holding for at least five seconds before rising.”

  Kaijin lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously? That detailed?”

  “Yes!” Omari’s gaze hardened. “Your bow signifies your status. You are a foreigner and stranger to him, thus you mean very little to him, so your bow is much lower and longer.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Kaijin said sourly. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Before entering the shak’ha’s quarters, you must remove your shoes; do not speak to him unless spoken to; and when he does speak to you, you must answer every question, regardless of if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “What if he asks me a question I don’t know?”

  Omari shrugged. “Then say you do not know. But beware, Kaijin. My father can easily spot a liar.”

  “All right. Go on.”

  “You must also adhere to the seating order, and—”

  “Wait, seating order?” Kaijin blinked.

  “Indeed. The shak’ha sits first, then me, because I am his eldest and only son, then you. You sit to my left. Also, you must sit cross-legged, back straight, hands rested on both knees. Slouching or sitting any other way is a sign of disrespect.”

  Kaijin held his breath as Omari droned on and on about the particular customs, from general mannerisms to proper eating etiquette.

  “Now, then, any questions?” Omari asked once he finished.

  Kaijin exhaled. There was no way he’d be able to remember each and every rule. ‘A few rules’ he says. Maybe I should just simply follow his lead, instead. “No questions. I look forward to meeting your father.”

  Omari looked down his nose at him. “As you should.”

  The doors upstairs opened, and the third attendant returned with Kaijin and Omari’s clothes, all cleaned. Without making eye contact with anyone in the room, she set the folded clothes on a dry rock by the pool, and promptly left.

  Ta’mei and Asha ushered Kaijin and Omari out of the bath, helped them dress, and then led them and their familiars back upstairs. Tariq was waiting for them, and the two women departed. Kaijin and Omari followed Tariq farther down the corridor to another set of stairs, this time to their left. The stairs were lined with a plush red carpet. They ascended five flights and arrived in another corridor. Small, ornate clay pots that lined the walls burned with magical blue-white flames that gave off ample light through the entire corridor. The pots, Kaijin noticed, were reminiscent of the ones Jarial used to have in his home when he was training him.

  They walked to the end of the corridor, where two immaculate golden doors stood. Miele screeched an empathic message from Kaijin’s shoulder.

  “Yes, Miele, this must be it. Unless there is more ‘protocol’ we have to go through.”

  The doors opened without warning, and three menservants exited, carrying empty silver trays. Noticing Omari, they halted and bowed deeply at the waist. Omari acknowledged them, then shooed them away with a flick of his wrist.

  The smell of cooked meat wafted from the golden-hued room. Through the ajar doors, Kaijin saw more tapestries with the same symbol he’d seen throughout the Harran. Ornate rugs, pillows, and cushions covered much of the floor, but Kaijin didn’t see any chairs. A massive bed, surrounded by sheer golden curtains, sat in the rear of the room.

  In the center of the room, surrounded by cushions, was a low square obsidian table, which was covered with various meat and vegetable dishes, as well as wine bottles.

  A lone man sat at the table, quietly sipping from a silver goblet. His earth-toned robes displayed an array of patterns of geometric shapes. Setting the goblet down, the man looked up, right at Kaijin.

  Kaijin froze, feeling the man’s hard stare from where he stood. The man’s eyes narrowed, and he thoughtfully stroked the ends of his black neatly-trimmed beard and mustache.

  Kaijin could’ve sworn he saw the man smile.

  XXV

  Kaijin watched Omari step to the side and remove his sandals outside the door of the master quarters. Kaijin followed suit, pulling off his leather boots and setting them neatly beside Omari’s sandals. The cold floor made him wince.

  “Remember the rules,” Omari whispered to Kaijin, adjusting Percival on his shoulder.

  Yeah, right. Kaijin nodded to Omari anyway. Miele flew from Kaijin’s shoulder, latched on the underside of the doorway, and waited for him.

  Tariq ushered them both inside, and before the door closed behind them, Miele flew up from her perch and clung to one of the grooves in the high ceiling.

  Kaijin glanced back. Once again, Tariq hadn’t followed them in.

  Standing along the wall near the door were two white-clad servants with teal sashes around their waists. One of the servants, a young boy who looked about twelve, carried a brass basin. The other, a young man in his late teens, held a matching brass pitcher. A white cloth was tucked over his sash.

  Omari slowly bowed his head, greeting the man at the table. “Father.”

  A bright smile lifted the man’s mustache. He rose from the table and swiftly approached Omari. “Omari, my son! The attendants informed me you were coming. What a pleasant surprise!” His thick rolling accent matched that of the other people that Kaijin had heard there.

  So that is Shak’ha Amil, Omari’s father.

  Omari kept his head bowed. “It is wonderful to see you again, as well, Father. Unfortunately, I have come on not-so-pleasant business. We must talk.”

  Amil nodded curtly. “And talk we shall.” His gaze wandered to Kaijin, his smile never fading. “And who is your guest?”

  Upon being acknowledged, Kaijin dipped into a low bow at the waist, as he remembered Omari telling him to do. “Greetings, honored Shak’ha. My name is Kaijin Sora.” He held his pose for five seconds before rising.

  “Kaijin,” Amil repeated. Wrinkles deepened under his dark eyes as his smile grew.

  “He is but a foreigner, Father,” Omari said simply. “But one I thought you might find of some interest.”

  “I see.” Amil didn’t take his eyes off Kaijin.

  Kaijin kept himself from staring, but he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him every so often. Something about Amil intrigued Kaijin and reminded him of his mother.
Amil’s almond eyes looked just like hers, with the same slight upward slant. Kaijin missed her dearly.

  After some seconds of awkward silence, Omari said, “By the way, Father, I have something for you.” He pulled off the obsidian ring and showed the shak’ha. “It is your favorite ring, the one that was stolen from you all those years ago. My friends and I found it on a half-Dragon in the underground tunnels of Ostwyn.”

  Kaijin eyed the ring. So that’s why Omari was acting so strange about it before....”

  Beaming, Amil took the ring. “Ah! This is glorious! I cannot believe you managed to find it again! I loved this ring very much. Your grandmother gave it to me when I was a boy.” He happily slipped the ring onto his right finger and admired it. “It is still as beautiful as I remembered. Thank you, Omari. That means a lot to me.”

  Omari smiled and bowed his head.

  Amil beckoned Kaijin and Omari to the table. “Come, both of you. Your journey must have been long and tiring. I ordered the servants to bring food and drink for you.” He returned to his cushions at the table and sat.

  Kaijin waited for Omari to sit before sitting himself to Omari’s left. Kaijin mimicked Omari’s sitting position, crossing his legs and straightening his back, with his hands atop both knees. His gaze wandered to the mouth-watering dishes of food: grilled catfish, meat and vegetable kebabs, chickpea soup with sliced eggs and vegetables, flatbreads topped with eggplant slices and parsley, seasoned rice mixed with cabbage leaves and tomatoes, and a bowl of mixed fruit slices. The spicy aroma drifting from the dishes was unfamiliar, but Kaijin thought he’d never smelled anything so appetizing before in his life.

  Once everyone was seated, the two servants rushed over and stood beside Amil, their heads bowed. Amil held his hands out, and the boy held the basin under them. The older servant poured water from the pitcher over his hands, and Amil rubbed them together, washing them. The young man set the pitcher down and hastily retrieved the cloth from his sash, smoothing out its wrinkles and holding it while Amil dried his hands.

  The servants moved on to Omari, who held out his hands for the water to be poured. “Everything looks delicious, Father. Thank you.”