3
Thrumming with satisfaction and anticipation of this unusual development, Jankin hastened back to his room as quickly as he could without making a spectacle of himself.
In his room, he stripped off his clothes, yanked on a wrap, and all but ran to the baths. Once he was scrubbed clean in record time, he returned to his room, where he pulled on clothes of dark blue and gold that would match his peacock wrap, and twisted most of his hair up with the matching hairpin, finishing with large hoop earrings that were a favorite of his.
As promised, a woman waited in the hallway for him. She smiled and motioned for him to follow. "You danced beautifully, my lord."
"I'm no lord, but thank you. Hopefully I am sufficiently dressed for dining at the royal table."
"Of course. Anyway, when asked so late into the meal, there is no expectation of 'proper' dress. That would be borderline cruel, given what proper formal dress can entail."
"Any tips on dining with concubines? I have dined with harems before, but they were much more the 'to be seen and not heard,' to be admired but otherwise ignored, type of thing. Tavamara is quite different."
The woman looked horrified. "Ignoring the royal concubines, after the king has been generous enough to invite you to his table where they would obviously serve you, would be beyond rude. I'm not sure anyone has ever been bold enough to be that rude, not even Havarin, and they're notorious for how they treat staff and concubines."
"Yes, Havarin was where I had the experience I mentioned."
"The concubines carry the conversation. Speak freely, but never of intimate matters. If you want to compliment them, compliment them to His Majesty, as they are his harem."
"Thank you, the help is deeply appreciated."
The woman smiled. "We're always happy to help those who know to ask and do so kindly. You'd be surprised how often people think they're too good to listen to us."
"Not as surprised as you'd expect," Jankin said dryly. "People frequently think I am dancer by day, prostitute by night."
"That does not surprise me at all," the woman replied, wrinkling her nose. She bowed as they reached a pair of doors he didn't recognize. How many possible entrances could one banquet hall have? This wasn't even the grand one that he'd noticed before on his way out. "This is a private entrance for the royal family. The path is direct. A space will have been made for you, likely by one of the concubines. Goodnight, Master Jankin."
"Goodnight, Mistress. Thank you again for all the help."
She left, and he went through the doors as they were opened by a pair of towering, silent guards. A short hallway spilled into the banquet hall, though behind a wall that cleverly concealed it and created a useful alcove to fix clothes and such. A servant bowed and guided him from there, to the royal table itself, which of course he'd known that was where he was going, but to actually be here…
Well, it was certainly an experience, being invited to dine with a king instead of to show up in his bedroom later. As handsome and compelling as Shafiq was, Jankin might have accepted such an invitation, even if he was growing weary of them lately, but as he understood, that sort of behavior was taboo for a king. Spouse and concubines, that was it. And really, who could ever truly need more than that? It sounded wonderful.
"Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Your Majesty. It's quite the honor."
King Shafiq waved a hand to dismiss the words in a way that only a king could. "Your dance was the most incredible I have ever seen, Master Jankin. We are honored to have you."
"I do not usually feel blessed about the troubles that befall me," Eshar Halikazen said, smiling warmly, "but I admit that finding myself waylaid has gone rather well this time."
Beside him was another man, a foreigner he could not identify at a glance, who smiled in a way that seemed friendly enough, and probably was, but with an undercurrent that Jankin knew well. Not just a desire to invite Jankin to his room later, but an understanding that Jankin would accept. An assumption he would get what he wanted.
Normally, Jankin wouldn't entirely mind, because there were far worse ways to spend an evening. But Shafiq had invited him to dine , to simply spend time with him, and even if he did lust after Jankin, he treated him politely, did not subtly leer, or take it as understood that they would be fucking later. He did not, in short, abuse his power.
Until that moment, Jankin hadn't truly realized just how much all the leering and soliciting truly bothered him. He loved attention, always had and always would, but he had long grown tired of being treated like an object. So he smiled back neutrally, friendly and grateful, but not invitingly. Hopefully this stranger would respect that, but unfortunately, people in power seldom liked hearing no.
"Here," said the ridiculously beautiful concubine beside him. Between the unfairly handsome Shafiq and the breathtaking concubines, there was entirely too much pretty at this table, and it was driving him mad. But oh, what a way to lose his mind. "Try this one. It's light, sweet and refreshing. You must have worked for years and years to dance so perfectly."
The wine was just as perfect as promised.
"Thank you," he said. "I've been dancing nearly as long as I've been alive."
He hadn't believed the rumors about twin concubines, but here they were, plain as day. One in sapphires, one in rubies, but otherwise practically perfect copies of each other. One had slightly darker skin, like he saw a touch more sun than the other, and he also had a…quieter wasn't the right word, but he didn't move quite like his twin, as though sapphire had more training, or was more familiar in general than the other with the ways of the court. Or maybe he was making things up in his head.
"You've really been dancing most of your life?" the concubine asked.
"I was put into basic instruction when I was three, and have been dancing ever since. It was good money for my family, while I was home. But after my father passed away, my mother remarried a woman with plenty of money of her own, and I finally started traveling the world, instead of the short trips I'd been making before. I was about seventeen when I left home for good, and went back briefly some years ago, stayed for a couple of years, then left again. I've learned dancing all over the world, and there are very few countries I have not danced in yet. Only those that aren't safe, or where I fear they would compel me to remain."
"I know the ones you mean," Shafiq said. "I have forbidden travel to those places because too many people have gone and never returned. Some of them we managed to get back, others I'm afraid are lost forever."
The mostly-empty platters and carafes on the table were deftly swept away by servants, and another set laid out. Even the wines were all completely new, making him wonder what became of the carafes that had not been entirely empty.
This course seemed to be lighter food, and given he'd been told the meal would continue for some hours yet, probably a refresher course before richer foods showed up again. He looked over it all, curious about the foods he did not recognize, and caught the eye of the large, broad concubine he'd seen before. "You must be the one they call the Jackal that I heard so much about in the city. I went for dinner, and another diner was more than happy to talk and talk in exchange for wine."
"I am indeed the Jackal," the man said with a faint smile, eyes glittering. Those two are the Mongoose and the Meerkat. They call us my king's menagerie."
"I usually prefer their names," Shafiq said with a chuckle before accepting the wine offered up by the concubine beside him, the one called the Meerkat. "This is Ender, my Jackal is Berkant, and Nadir asked to be the one to attend you."
"Asked? I'm honored."
Nadir smiled and offered up wine. "I really wanted to get to know better the man who danced with such magnificent skill. Like the old story of the man who danced so beautifully he bewitched the king of death, who granted his wish to restore his sister to life and then took him as his consort."
"That's an old Rittuen myth."
Nadir shrugged one shoulder. "I like to read."
"If anyone could bewitch a king of death, it's you," Halikazen said brightly, almost sounding like a proud father. "All of us from Rittu know of the famous Peacock, but seeing your skill firsthand has been an honor.
"Thank you, Eshar, that means a lot to me. My deeds do not even come close to your own."
"There's a difference between doing something one time, and dedicating your life to it, and the arts contribute to humanity more than any of us can truly appreciate."
Jankin bowed his head, truly honored to be praised so highly, by both a king and an eshar.
"You are something, to be sure," said the man still subtly leering at him, though it was increasingly less subtle. He was also starting to look annoyed, like he feared someone might take his treat away. Great, so it was going to be one of those nights. Probably easiest and safest to just agree. It wasn't like it would be a chore. He'd said yes to worse for less. "I've never seen anything like it. Quite the Peacock indeed."
Another guest at the .. chortled. "Peacock, what are the odds? Fitting right in, Your Majesty."
Shafiq did not seem amused. "The only menagerie worth having is one that gathers of its own choosing, and I believe Master Jankin is tired of being treated like an exhibit." He made a hand motion that Jankin did not understand, but the concubines clearly did, as Berkant took the wine that was right beside Shafiq's plate and passed it to Nadir, who poured a small measure into one of the many cups stacked in front of Jankin, right past his own plate.
He didn't know much about Tavamaran dining customs, but even a fool knew there was significance in being offered a cup of the wine that had been decanted explicitly for His Majesty. Nadir lifted the cup, and Jankin drank, then looked to Shafiq and bowed ever so slightly. "You're too generous, Your Majesty. Thank you."
Shafiq smiled. "So what is your favorite style of dance, if you have one?"
"My heart will always belong to the traditional Rittuen fan dance I learned first. Every year, fewer and fewer learn it, a combination of shifting practices, fading tradition, newer, more so-called interesting dances, that sort of thing."
"A pity," Shafiq said, "for it is a lovely, timeless dance."
"Time carries on, I suppose. Many of the modern dances are worth learning, but others I think will be forgotten before the year ends, and certainly by the end of the decade."
"I would imagine with your skill that you develop a special sense for such things," Berkant said. "Much like I can sense violence before it occurs."
"He has saved us much grief with that sense," Shafiq said. "As do Nadir and Ender with their own unique senses."
"For gossip fodder?" Ender asked dryly. "I don't know that being able to pick out the quiet happenings of the court is all that great a skill, unless you want an edge on placing your bets as to who is sleeping with whom and who the real father of a child is."
Jankin laughed. "Courts all over the world are much the same. I suppose when you don't have to worry about how to pay rent or afford food or finding a job that won't kill you young, you must take extra steps to have things to worry about. There was a woman who…invited me to spend additional time in her company…but I had a lover at the time and refused. Angry, she spun a tale of how I had wronged her to her husband, and I would have been beaten to death if my lover had not stepped in to halt the matter and clear everything up."
"You seem sad this lover is in the past," Shafiq said.
"A little, but our paths were quite different. He would have never wanted me to hold still where I did not want to, and he had duties he could not leave, being a Holy Protector of Tritacia."
Halikazen's brows rose in surprise. "A Holy Protector, amazing. I've only ever met one, and she was the closest any of them had ever come to retiring, but I heard a few years ago that she had been killed doing her duty. Tragic, truly."
"What is a Holy Protector?" Berkant asked.
It was the leering man who replied, "Overblown royal bodyguards. Tritacia's religion revolves around fate, that their three goddesses handpick the fate of every person. Children are taken to a temple, to stand before the altar and have their fate read to them by the head priest or priestess or whatever. Some of them are told they are fated to be bodyguards."
"It's called a destiny reading," Jankin said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. "Nothing specific. Fates are not 'you are meant to be a baker.' They are more like 'you are destined to bring comfort to those around you,' or 'you are fated to be a fighter,' or as was in Ramsay's case, his reading was that he was fated to protect people. As he grew and learned and trained, his acumen as a guardian was impressive enough that he was put on a path to serve as a royal guardian. A Holy Protector. He guards the crown prince to this day, so far as I know. As the Eshar said, they always die doing their duty. I've never known one to retire."
"A difficult calling," Shafiq said. "No one life is worth more than another, but the very nature of bodyguards tells us the lie in that grandiose statement. It distresses me constantly, and I have no respect for leaders who are careless with the lives of those who keep them safe."
"Just so," Halikazen replied.
"They understand the risks, and let's be real, some lives are more valuable than others," said the man who wouldn't stop leering. "Some deaths pass by without ever being noticed or felt."
"That is a sad commentary on society, not on the value of a life, Lord Asken," Shafiq said, voice calm, but with a slight edge. Pointedly shifting his attention, he looked at Jankin. "How long are you staying in Tavamara?"
"I rarely plan to stay anywhere an explicit amount of time," Jankin replied. "I'll leave when I feel there is nothing more for me to learn, at least for the time being."
Shafiq smiled, and though it was just a smile, the same soft, easy ones he'd offered the whole meal, it still fluttered in Jankin's chest for no good reason. Oh, good, he was going to be stupid about this. Couldn't avoid the attention of the man he didn't want; couldn't have the attention of the man he did want. What a dumbass. "We shall endeavor to keep your attention, then."
Conversation moved along then, ever shifting in subject matter, but throughout Jankin felt Asken's eyes on him, an increasingly heavy weight from the looming dread of trying to walk back to his room unmolested, knowing he would probably fail and that it would be easier to simply give in.
Why couldn't people just admire his dancing and company at dinner and be content?
As the final dishes and empty wine carafes were carried away, Shafiq signaled to the figures across the room, who rang a small gong signaling the conclusion of the banquet. As Jankin understood it, that did not mean people had to leave immediately, but no further wine or food would be forthcoming, and Shafiq was leaving.
"Accompany me, Master Jankin," Shafiq said. "Your room is on the same path."
Jankin froze for the barest second, taken aback by the not-really-a-request, because it seemed so out of character, though granted, one dinner wasn't enough to tell him everything about a person. "Of course, Your Majesty, the honor is mine." He rose and fell into step beside Shafiq, the beautiful harem folding around them, and the bodyguards around them .
At the table, Halikazen seemed pleased and amused, and Asken looked like a man who wanted to throw a fit.
He didn't know the palace well, not even close—he could barely get to the whole three places he needed—but he was almost certain the royal quarters were nowhere near the guest quarters he resided in. Purely from a matter of safety that would make no sense.
It was not, however, his place to ask such questions.
"My king is hosting a private dinner in two days," Ender said. "Would you be amenable to performing?"
Jankin brightened immediately. There was much to be said for performing for a large crowd, but a small audience was a treat all its own. "I would love to."
"Wonderful."
"I thank you," Shafiq said. "I had not intended to ask tonight, but as ever, my harem does as it pleases." He shot Ender a look of fond exasperation.
Ender grinned unrepentantly.
As they reached his room, Shafiq said, "Sleep well, Master Jankin. Thank you for the dance and the pleasure of your company. Be assured that Lord Asken will be of no further trouble to you. Goodnight."
Jankin barely managed to bow and respond before Shafiq was gone, only the lingering scent of his cologne, quickly dissipating, to signal he'd been there at all.
Shafiq had gone to all that trouble to protect him from Asken. For no reason at all except it was the right thing.
No one had ever done that sort of thing for him, especially not a king .
It was little wonder his people thought so highly of him, that his harem loved him so much. There was no match for a genuinely kind heart, especially combined with the other elements that made Shafiq so compelling.
Sighing softly at himself, Jankin slipped into his room and prepared for bed.
*~*~*