Kilig the Sword

by Barbara G. Tarn

Most students came from poor families, since the rich and nobles could hire their own teachers. Sunil liked the new school, even if it was much more crowded than his father's camp. At least there were a lot more boys his age and he wasn't the youngest of the camp anymore.

  In the morning he exercised in the courtyard with his dorm mates – usually Bishma was his sparring partner, even though he was almost sixteen – and in the afternoon he listened to the abbot's lectures in the great hall or went to lessons on literature, history, geography or math, held by monks and priests alike.

  Each class level had a different color of the hooded vestment all were supposed to wear in the temple and inside the monastery. The students had the colors of the rainbow – Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet – plus White for the last year. The monks wore Brown, the priests Sky-blue. Sunil received his yellow vestment with the writing materials and other classroom implements in the first morning lesson.

  One day in every five was dedicated to prayer, competitive practice and meditation. One day a month was free to roam the city, visit family or meet girls. The first time Sunil didn't really know what to do with himself, so he went home to visit his mother and sisters, telling them about the new school. His father was still at the camp in the ruins, and wasn't expecting any news until he graduated and learned the monks' secret, so Sunil decided to enjoy the company of the female members of his family instead of confronting his elder brothers away from his father's eyes.

  "I wish I could come too," his sister Rohini said with a sigh. "Pity they don't accept girls!"

  "You could beat many of those boys," Sunil said, scoffing at the thought of his pretty fifteen-year-old sister pinning Tushar to the ground. That would teach him a lesson! The assassins' school was open to both sexes and Sunil's sister was almost an accomplished assassin herself.

  Rohini giggled. "Will you teach me your secrets?" she pleaded. "I'll need a crash course and probably won't be able to exercise much except with you, but still..."

  Sunil smiled fondly at her. "I'll pass on what I can," he promised.

  ***

  Months went by. Sunil started calling Bishma his friend, pointedly ignored Tushar and passed on what he could to Rohini. He enjoyed every lesson, but mostly the abbot's lectures and Bhai Muskurana's physical training.

  Sometimes he felt sad, though, sometimes rebellious, sometimes sick of the company. Used to fending for himself, he wasn't always willing to share his thoughts with anyone. He even started wondering if he should actually stay at the monastery with Bhai Muskurana and become a fighting monk. The life of the assassin didn't really appeal to him.

  When he felt like a fish out of water, or depressed, he sought refuge in the temple of the goddess, sitting on his heels in front of the painted statue and daydreaming about his future. Not many students came to the temple outside of devotional time, but sometimes he could listen to the monks singing the praise of Zindagi, led by the abbot's crooning voice. He quickly learned when he could find monks or the priests, who lived in another wing of the temple and had very little contact with the students, except a couple who taught seventh and eighth year.

  Sunil preferred the monks, who were often sent on rescue missions to protect life – especially among the nomad tribes of the desert who were of a warring kind. He hoped Bhai Muskurani would never be sent off to fight the Lords of War, but was definitely ready to do so if he became a fighting monk himself. Injustice against the weak had always driven him mad. The fighting monks were the good guys, while his family was the villain, killing in cold blood and for money.

  Bishma became the older brother he'd always dreamed of. He felt free to ask him questions about girls, sex and any other doubt that occurred to him and that he couldn't ask the adults because of his innate shyness and respect for his elders. Bishma was always happy to answer and if he didn't know, he'd ask around and come back with an answer.

  "My brothers were never this nice to me," Sunil commented one day as they sat on the river shore during the free day, watching girls stroll by. "Thank you for your patience. You're my most trusted adviser."

  Bishma chuckled and patted his shoulder, making him smile at last.

  "Glad you trust me," Bishma whispered. "Is it true you have a sister?"

  Sunil stared at him before answering. "Yes, but you'll have to shave that stubble if you want to appeal to her. And be aware she could beat you with some weapons."

  "So it's true that even girls get the training in assassins' families?" Bishma asked, amazed.

  "Yes. Female assassins can be more deadly than men. Are you scared yet?"

  "No, actually, I think I'd love to have a woman who doesn't need my protection and can take care of herself..." Bishma grinned at him and Sunil chuckled.

  "We'll see if she likes a prospective fighting monk," he said, amused.

  2.

  Rohini did like Bishma, and since he had a sister Sunil's age, they started going out all together. They bought flat-breads on the river shore or visited the former royal palace or even did day-trips outside of the town walls – not too far to avoid running into some warring nomad tribe. There were three warriors-in-training out of four youths, but they decided to be careful.

  One day they sat in a tavern for lunch and Bishma and Rohini were cuddling in front of a very embarrassed Sunil. Bishma's sister didn't look convinced either, although Rohini encouraged her to try and kiss her little brother, that he wouldn't hurt her. Bishma sent encouraging looks at his friends, so eventually Sunil relented.

  He pulled the girl into his arms and kissed her – an awkward brushing of the lips. Her mouth remained sealed, so after a bit of tasting, he pulled away. She had even stopped his hand trying to touch her small breasts. Bishma and Rohini's applause didn't help and she looked even more angry and upset than him.

  Sunil shrugged it off, but stopped going out with his friend. He stayed with his mother when Rohini went out, or didn't go at all. Bishma didn't try to insist – obviously his sister hadn't enjoyed the kiss either – and for a few months the topic of girls was off limits between them.

  ***

  He wore the green vestment of the fourth year when he found his favorite spot in the temple taken. Another student from the other "green" class, who seemed more lost in thought than in prayer or meditation. In fact he was seated on the stone floor, not kneeling as was customary. And his eyes stared into the distance, not towards the face of the goddess towering over him.

  "Hello," Sunil whispered, kneeling next to him.

  Startled, the other focused on him and frowned.

  "You don't seem to be praying, so I'm not interrupting you," Sunil continued, joining his hands and bowing his head as if to pray.

  The other didn't change his relaxed position. There were no monks around that day to scold a student for his unconventional behavior.

  "I come here to be alone," the student snapped. "What's your name?"

  "Sunil," he answered, a little jarred since the other didn't bother keeping his voice down and the words echoed in the empty temple.

  "Oh, I've heard about you." The tone was sarcastic. "The assassin's son."

  Sunil stopped pretending to pray and glared at the other boy.

  "So? You have a problem with that?"

  The other scoffed. "I'm not Tushar, I don't care."

  "If you're Tushar's friend, I'm leaving." Sunil rose, but the other grabbed his wrist.

  "I'm not Tushar's friend," he said, lowering his voice. "My name is Girish."

  "And you came here to be alone," Sunil retorted. "So did I, therefore I'll come back another time."

  Something flashed in Girish's eyes. Anger or something worse. That guy was dangerous. Sunil freed his wrist and stormed out of the temple.

  He went to sit in a corner of the courtyard to brood. He already missed his time alone, but didn't want to go back to the temple. It was big enough for two people to be on their own, but he'd have to pass next to Girish again and...

  Girish
disturbed him for some reason. He was handsome but...

  "What's wrong, Sunil?" Bishma sat next to him with a worried look on his face.

  "My favorite spot was taken today," he grumbled. "Someone named Girish."

  "Uh-oh. You met Girish?"

  "Yeah, he's in the temple."

  "Do you know who he is?"

  "No, and I don't care."

  "Well, you should care," Bishma chided. "Girish is the only young nobleman currently at the monastery. He sleeps in a single room, like the monks, not in a dormitory. He's more important than Tushar, who only has a rich father who wants him to learn warfare so he can compete with the princes of the desert."

  "So?" Sunil shrugged. "I've had enough of haughty nobles and young men who think too high of themselves. I've had enough of insults and being called 'the assassin's son' and..."

  "Well, you are an assassin's son." Bishma stifled a chuckle.

  "And is that why you're all jealous? Because I'm younger but more skilled with weapons than any of you?" Sunil exploded, exasperated. Not that Bishma had ever insulted or teased him, but he felt overwhelmed.

  Bishma's smile vanished. "Sunil, we're not jealous, we fear you. Your family is powerful. We're all poor people, except Tushar, Girish and a few more, and knowing where you come from makes us uneasy. I've discovered you're not like we think you are, but not everybody was allowed to get close to you and to know you better."

  "Am I supposed to start a friendship with Tushar who undresses me with his eyes every time he sees me?" Sunil asked sourly.

  Bishma smiled. "No, you're right to keep Tushar at bay. Just be careful with Girish as well, his father is more powerful than yours. And I'm telling you this because I'm your friend."

  Sunil relaxed and sighed. "Thank you, Bishma. I don't know where I'd be without you."

  ***

  Sunil had turned fifteen and had put on muscle, but his voice still swung between childhood and adulthood. He still didn't need to shave and often stayed at the monastery during the free day, since Bishma's sister was history and he preferred watching Bhai Muskurana's routine. The teacher had become his hero – he really wanted to be like Bhai Muskurana when he finished his training, forgetting he was supposed to report to his father and reveal the monks' secret about the seal of Zindagi.

  And then it was Girish's turn to startle him out of his daydreams in the temple.

  "Hey, dreamer, this is my spot," Girish said, sitting next to him on the cool temple floor. Outside was a very hot day, so the temple was a welcome haven.

  "I came here first," Sunil snapped, jarred. He had avoided Girish for months now, and talking to him was as upsetting as the first time. If he weren't an assassin himself and knew better, he'd say Girish had a sneaky assassin demeanor.

  "This is my spot," Girish repeated pleasantly. "Nobody can come here without my permission."

  "Are there any other places in Zindagi's house that have become your exclusive property?" Sunil asked, sarcastic.

  Girish raised his eyebrows and stared at him before answering, "No, just this spot."

  Sunil rose. "Fine, your lordship, it's all yours." He stormed out of the temple.

  He heard Girish say, "But you can come when you want!" and snorted.

  But he came back. A few days later, out of curiosity. From the entrance he saw Girish in his usual spot and instead of turning back, he joined him. They didn't talk much. Girish was obviously as quiet and introverted as he was. But hearing someone breathing by his side while he prayed or meditated wasn't so bad anymore.

  He got used to it – the few words exchanged whenever they met in the canteen or the corridors of the monastery, the brief greeting nods when they weren't close enough to speak.

  And then one day he entered the temple while the monks were singing and noticed Girish was among them. He had pulled up his hood – not something he did normally, but obviously the abbot's presence forced him to follow the rules.

  At one point Girish had a solo hymn. His voice was rich and deep, and for a moment Sunil envied him. His singing skills were non-existent, but he liked music and songs. He stared awed at the young singer with a manly voice, surprised by the unexpected talent of his grumpy temple friend. He almost clapped his hands when the choir finished the song.

  Bhai Sundar dismissed the singers and Girish left the stall, sauntering towards the exit that led to the monastery. Then his eyes fell on Sunil and he stopped, frowning.

  Sunil grinned and pretended to clap his hands as Girish resumed walking.

  "How long have you been there?" Girish asked bluntly, stopping in front of Sunil, a half-head taller even with the pointed hood taken town.

  "I heard most of the celebration," Sunil enthused. "You have a great voice! Why don't you officially join the choir?"

  "None of your business," Girish snapped, averting his eyes.

  "But you are so good!" Sunil insisted. "Who taught you?"

  Girish grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the temple.

  "It's my talent," Girish muttered, pushing Sunil into a secluded corner of the courtyard. "I got it from my mother."

  "Lady Chitra can sing?" Sunil asked, puzzled.

  "My mother isn't Lady Chitra, but Maya the Belly-dancer."

  Girish gasped, realizing what he'd just said, and glared at Sunil who brightened.

  "Maya the Belly-dancer? The most beautiful woman of Agharek? I saw her show once, she danced and then she sang and we were all spellbound!"

  "Listen, nobody knows I'm illegitimate," Girish said bluntly. "Swear you won't tell anyone."

  "Trust an assassin to keep your secrets." Sunil winked with an impish smile. "We know things most people don't..."

  "Yeah, right." For the first time, Girish looked uncomfortable.

  "Don't worry, I won't betray you." Sunil playfully punched him. "As long as you allow me to attend your singing practices..."

  Girish glared at him, then smiled. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

  "You bet," Sunil answered with a grin. "Can you dance as well?"

  "This, my dear assassin friend, will remain a secret," Girish answered, putting both hands on Sunil's shoulders and shaking him. "Respect me, and I will respect you."

  "Can I tell Bishma that you can sing?"

  "No. It's our secret. Got it?"

  Sunil nodded with a grin. Not that he felt threatened anymore. Actually, he found Girish more and more human, with his talents, his faults – and his intriguing secrets.

  3.

  More months went by and another school year ended. The students were sent home for a couple of weeks, but Sunil didn't find anyone headed for his father's camp, so he stayed in Agharek once more, wandering on the river shore and spending time with his mother and Rohini. Then it was time to go back to school and receive the blue vestment. He listened to his friends recounting their break and shrugged when asked what he'd done. By then he knew when it was better to stay away from Girish.

  And then one day Sunil found out someone else had already stepped into the temple to disturb Girish's peace. Tushar didn't bother to lower his voice as he spoke and the sound froze Sunil on the spot before he reached the temple door.

  "I've heard you're seeing someone lately, and was wondering who's the lucky asshole," Tushar said defiantly.

  Girish grumbled a reply that sounded very much like "Mind your own business!" but Tushar kept prodding, naming boys from many classes, some of which Sunil had never heard of.

  "Shut up, Tushar!" Girish snapped.

  "You think I don't know about your lovers?" Tushar insisted, undaunted.

  Sunil silently stepped forward so he could glance inside the temple. Both Tushar and Girish sat in front of the Goddess's statue in the empty temple and Girish wore his most threatening glare, but it obviously wasn't enough to deter Tushar.

  "They often cry on my shoulder, you know?" he continued, sarcastic. "Although I'm just a surrogate for your lordship."

  "Tushar, enough!"

  Tusha
r bowed his head and seemed to surrender.

  "I was also invited into your room once, remember?" he said with a lower voice. "I still love you, Girish, let's get back together," he pleaded, his hands caressing Girish's clean-shaven face.

  Sunil gaped as they kissed. Girish didn't slap Tushar for his bold move, nor did he try to avoid it. He simply sat still while Tushar's tongue invaded his mouth.

  Sunil gulped as they broke the kiss. Girish's lips were still wet when he met his stare. Sunil gasped and ran away from the temple doorway.

  He hid in the dormitory, empty at that time of the day, and had to tame his arousal. He thought he wanted to be in Bhai Muskurana's arms, but watching Girish and Tushar kiss had aroused him even more.

  He needed to sort out his feelings. Who did he really want? His gorgeous teacher or the elder student? Bhai Muskurana had taken a chastity vow, while Girish...

  Except he had no idea of what feelings Girish had for him. They were tentatively friends, but that didn't mean Girish would kiss him like he kissed Tushar.

  As for himself, he discovered he longed to be in Girish's arms now. When did it happen? Two years and a half in the monastery and he'd fallen in love with the most forbidden student of the school? Girish was the son of a nobleman. His father would never allow him to take on a male lover – especially not the son of an assassin...

  ***

  "Hey, assassin, looks like you seduced Lord Girish!" Tushar's tone was mocking, but he had bruises on his face. Probably – hopefully – from Girish's fists. He confronted Sunil in the dormitory in front of everybody and Bishma was faster to react.

  "Did he give you those caresses?" he teased. "What happened, he doesn't love you anymore?"

  "We've been history for a while now," Tushar snapped, glaring at him. Then he looked at Sunil and harbored his triumphant smile again. "One who fights so hard for your honor must have lost it completely! You couldn't deny him could you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Sunil answered coldly, controlling his anger. "He's a nobleman, he doesn't go around making indecent proposals like you do."