5
He spent the rest of his day, after lunch had concluded, practicing, with a brief pause to speak with the musicians who would be playing at the dinner. Far too easy to be distracted from training with a beautiful palace full of delightful distractions. By the time he was done, he was so exhausted he simply bathed, made certain he was suitably dried off, and went to sleep.
The next morning, he finally looked over what was expected of him for the evening. Dinner time, naturally, and it seemed he was the only performer. He would be expected to perform for a total of thirty minutes, with breaks between sets, of which he should plan five.
Just how private a dinner was this? Shafiq and jut a couple of others? Several others? Was he merely entertaining a king and his friends, or was he making guests more cooperative to the king's wishes?
First order of business was clothing. He gathered up everything he thought would suit such a performance and took it with him, headed first for the treasury to fetch his new necklace and then on to the practice hall.
Thankfully, nearly the first person he saw there was Dali. "Good morning, Mistress, you are just the person I was hoping to see."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"I wanted your advice on what best to wear for a performance tonight, during a private dinner His Majesty is hosting. I brought a few of my outfits…"
She scoffed and waved his bag away. "Nonsense, it is the duty of the palace to outfit you as long as you work here. Come, come, I have a few outfits in mind already. What is in the jewel case?"
"A gift from His Majesty for my performance the other night."
Dali whistled. "Never heard of him gifting performers jewels. Quite the achievement, pretty bird. Maybe he's trying to coax you into being his fourth, hmm? The king and queen are permitted five concubines apiece, you know. For a long time, it seemed that he would remain in grief and never find lovers. Everyone was quite happy when he finally took a concubine, and in only a matter of a year or so he had three. There are rumors he might ask Lord Mazin, but I think that's just nobles spinning tales. Time will tell." In the area sectioned off for clothing, fitting, etc., he set down his bag and opened the jewel case.
The reveal garnered another whistle from Dali. "My, my, peacock. If you were a noble, this could be considered a courting gift. Didn't you dine with him yesterday too?"
"I did, but I'm sure it's just because I'm a traveling novelty," Jankin said, even as his heart raced at the words courting gift . "Surely even if I was a noble, I wouldn't be receiving courting gifts. He has to marry a woman, doesn't he?"
She gave him an amused look. "Courting for his harem. I was teasing before, but now I wonder. Anyway, enough gossiping from me. With that necklace, I have three options for you." She flitted amongst the racks of countless costumes, some elaborate and showy, others quiet and sedate. After several minutes, she returned with the promised three.
All were in shades of blue and green, unsurprisingly. Two were full costumes, sleeveless, low collar, long skirt slit in one or two places. One of those had gold fringe along the bottom, the other had strings of beads. Glass, by the way they glittered.
The third costume, though, was only a skirt. It was the kind that had the underclothes and outer skirt as all one piece, and the skirt itself was quite translucent, speckled with tiny glass beads in a rainbow of colors that caught the light and scattered it around the room. Or would, at least, when he was dancing. Combined with the feather necklace, it would certainly be a memorable ensemble.
Also a little racy for a private dinner, which made him curious about the details of it all over again. "Do you know anything about this dinner?"
"Nothing for certain," Dali replied. "Rumors, however, say that His Majesty is dining with certain nobles to help smooth over looming changes in tariff laws. There's been a great deal of contention lately surrounding it. I don't think anyone on the council has slept a full night in three months, and there will be months of debate yet before they come to a conclusion that makes everyone somewhat happy and His Majesty is willing to sign into law.
"I see," Jankin said. So that was why he'd been invited to dance, and wearing a diaphanous skirt while twirling about would certainly put people in a better mood for talking between sets.
It was a shrewd decision, exactly the kind of thinking a king should possess. But he'd stupidly thought it was simply because Shafiq enjoyed his performance that much. No reason it couldn't be both, but…
Well, it didn't matter. Attention was attention, and the money would be ridiculously good, and if he could help Shafiq, repay his kindness, by putting his nobles in a better mood, he would do it.
"This one, I think," he said, touching the skirt. "It's beautiful, and seems suited to the circumstance. It will also best display the necklace."
"Shrewd as I would expect of you. Get to practicing, pretty bird. I'll see this is ready and waiting in your room."
Jankin smiled. "I owe you much, Mistress. What can I do to show my appreciation?"
She patted his cheek. "You are a sweet one, but I am only doing my job, I promise." She laughed. "Tell His Majesty how good I am at it, if you're inclined. A good word in royal ears is never a bad thing."
"Of course." He obediently went as she shooed him away and headed to his allocated section of the hall to practice the routines he would be doing that night. Five routines in total was the request, but three of them would actually be one long routine he'd break into three pieces. He'd done it before, and it always worked well, the routine flexible in that way. He'd go slightly easier on himself for the fourth round, and the final routine would be the most complicated, because one should always end on a flourish.
After he was confident in the whole routine, he headed off to bathe, eat, and then went for a short walk around the palace before lying down for a short nap. When a servant woke him as requested a couple of hours later, the necklace and his new skirt were laid out on the table for him.
He started with his hair, weaving small braids here and there, scattered across the whole mass, threading them with small jewels that were a genuine pain in the ass to work with but had a payoff more than worth it. His skin was rubbed with a lotion that would leave a faint shimmer, and then he added small hoops to his ears and gold anklets to both ankles.
Only then did he pull on the skirt. It was truly beautiful, soft and wispy where it brushed his legs. For the best he was borrowing it, not keeping it, because he had always traveled light.
Going over to the table, he opened the jewelry case and removed the necklace. Unlocking the hinge, he settled the necklace in place, locked the hinge, and took a last deep breath before leaving.
He headed first for the training hall, where he knew he could find a mirror to make absolutely certain all was well. Dali was still there, speaking with a group of women, all of whom stopped talking when they saw him.
Dali walked over to him. "Look at you, Peacock. Living up to your reputation for certain. You'll be the favorite part of dinner. Even His Majesty won't be able to focus."
Jankin laughed. "Delightful as that sounds, I hope it's not true, because I'm sure he means to accomplish certain things at this dinner, and I'd hate to ruin his plans."
"I think he would forgive you," said another woman with a tittering laugh. "I would."
"You're too kind," Jankin said.
"Need eye makeup, though," said another woman.
"I've always been terrible at it," Jankin replied. "No matter how much I practice, I have no hand for it, even though, in theory, I should."
That seemed to be all the permission the women needed to do the work themselves, painting his eyes as beautifully as they had the night of the banquet, though this time it was in simple black overlaid with translucent, shimmery powder.
"Thank you, I'm grateful. I really only came for a mirror."
"You look perfect, Peacock," Dali said. "As you well know."
He grinned and winked. "Doesn't mean I don't like hearing it. I owe you all."
"Better get going," one of the women who'd done his makeup said. "Wouldn't want to be late."
Jankin bowed, murmured one last thank you, and departed, winding the wrap he'd brought along around his shoulders to ward off the chill that always fell once it grew dark. Were the concubines allowed to do such things? Or were they expected to go about bare-chested no matter the temperature? Or maybe they were used to it going from incredibly hot to ridiculously cold, and it didn't bother them. Certainly he'd seen people living in frozen climates walk about in short sleeves while it was snowing.
His escort led him to a section of the palace that was very clearly reserved for the royal families. They weren't like, grossly opulent or anything, but there were more flowers, more guards, and everything here seemed a bit quieter, softer, than elsewhere.
Guards were posted, blocking the open doors that would likely be closed and locked at some point, and Jankin said hesitantly, "I am here to perform at a private dinner?"
"Keep walking, it's the room with blue doors carved with birds. A servant will be waiting for you."
"Thank you. This place is quite overwhelming, I appreciate any and all assistance."
"We're always happy to help, Master Jankin."
They even knew his name, wow. Usually guards and such didn't bother, and why would they? There were much greater concerns on their minds.
As promised, he found the room with a beautiful set of double doors painted blue and covered in carvings of all manner of birds, largest at the bottom to smallest at the top. Beside the doors was a young man. "Master Jankin?"
"Yes, that's me. I hope I'm not late."
"No, still early. Would you like water or anything?"
"Water would be lovely."
"This way." The man led him through a door a short distance down the hall from the blue doors, into an antechamber room, small and minimally filled, but still beautifully appointed. He poured water from a crystal pitcher into a matching glass and handed it to Jankin. "A bell will ring shortly, go through that curtain there, you'll see where to dance and everything from there. Not so different from your first night, really, just smaller in scale."
"Thank you." He finished the water, set the cup aside, and went to stand close to the curtain, which was mostly beading.
Just minutes later the bell rang, and he pushed through into a room that skirted close to opulent, all blue and black and gold, fresh flowers and even a small fountain of trickling water. In the corner were the duo who'd be playing the music for his dance. He smiled and nodded before getting into position, and in the next breath, the music began, and he fell into it.
As it was a private dance, though not as private as he'd secretly like, his dances were a bit more sensual, every move slower and more drawing, not the energetic fanfare used for public performances. He rarely watched the audience as he performed, mostly because it was basically impossible, but also because it could be distracting, especially if they were leering—or worse—and immediately made him uncomfortable, which broke his concentration.
He wished he could look now, though, whenever the dance allowed, because he'd like to see the approval on Shafiq's face, that soft smile he offered up so rarely.
Instead, he put his all into the dance, same as ever. He'd dedicated his entire life to the skill and never did it by half.
When the first set ended, he bowed and withdrew, gulping down water when he was back in the antechamber. Moving back to the curtains, he asked the servant, "Who are all these people?" Men, mostly, about ten in all, not including Shafiq and his concubines. Only two of the guests were women. They were all dressed in beautiful finery. Strangely, though, the harem wasn't scattered about the guests as they would normally be at such an affair, at least as Jankin understood matters. Nadir and Ender sat on either side of Shafiq, and served only him. Berkant was the only one seated elsewhere, right between the two women.
Jankin was dying to know all the politics of it all, the subtle moves taking place, the silent conversations happening, who was being rewarded, who punished, why, the fall out…
He'd never been interested in such things, except passively, but it had never been this interesting before. What would it be like, to be part of the game, work with the others to do what Shafiq needed, moving pieces quietly and subtly, then returning to their chambers to discuss it all?
Lately it felt like he was becoming someone else. Someone who wanted to hold still. He wasn't sure what to do with that.
He went out as the bell rang again, dancing the second part of the dance he'd broken into three, this section a little bit faster than the first, and the third would go slower again, with the fourth and fifth being each their own thing.
At the end of the second set, a fresh pitcher of water waited for him. "Thank you."
The servant smiled. "You really do dance beautifully, Master Jankin. I am surprised you were not sponsored by your own king."
"I had plenty of offers, but at the time I first left Rittu, I wasn't good enough to catch a royal eye, and I wouldn't have wanted to stay in one place anyway. Later, it was well known I preferred travel, and so he didn't ask. Anyway, the king has plenty of dancers. He hardly needed one more."
Plus, there was nothing as thorny and treacherous as the Rittuen court, and he had no desire to get involved in that mess.
Funny how he felt so completely opposite when it came to the Tavamaran court. Clearly he just needed the right incentive, in the form of a handsome, compassionate king. What a silly fool he was.
By the time he'd finished his water and tidied up his hair from two rounds of dancing, it was time for the third. Probably seemed absurd to go back and forth so much, and certainly he'd been made to dance for long periods of time without stopping before—it happened a lot in the Havarin colonies, where every Margrave fancied themselves a king—but he was aways immensely grateful when people let him rest.
He caught Shafiq's gaze this time as he entered the room, though not on purpose. There was a hint of a smile, though his attention remained on his guests.
The last part of this dance was slower than the first two. When performed in its entirety, the concept was of a flower growing, thriving in full bloom, and then finally wilting. It was often performed with fans, ribbons, or other accessories to further that. Given he was working in a small space, though, he'd opted out of using them. On one occasion he'd performed it with four other dancers, each of them a different color/flower, representing a whole garden growing and fading through the seasons.
Shafiq would probably enjoy the full performance, solo or ensemble. Maybe he could do it properly before he left.
The flurry of words that followed him out of the room this time was louder than usual. Probably because by this point everyone was fairly drunk, unless they'd been properly pacing themselves. That seemed a strong part of the entire drinking culture—measured sips, careful savoring, matching with the pace of the food and conversation. And then there were those who simply drank and drank, with little mind paid to anything else, and they definitely were looked at askance.
All so complicated and interesting. Nevermind memorizing all the different types, sub-types, and the ridiculously florid names. There was so much to learn, even before getting to the many people and countless relationships and how they all tied to business and government and more. A complicated puzzle, at the very least.
By the time he was finished, he was sore and sweaty—and there was still one more dance to go. Still, the applause was always a rush, and there was more cool water waiting for him, and he liked to think he wasn't imagining Shafiq's eyes lingering on him.
What a delight it must be, to have that sort of attention whenever you wanted it. And to have your wishes respected when you didn't, because Shafiq had certainly proven himself capable of that.
"We'll have food waiting for you when you finish your last set," the servant said with a smile as he returned to the antechamber. "Normally, I think you would be invited to finish the meal with them, but it's not that sort of meal and… well, some of them are free with their hands, no matter how often they are admonished and disciplined for it." He shrugged in that what can you do, rich folks way that was the same the whole world over.
"Food would be wonderful," Jankin said. "I swear sometimes I could eat the entire contents of a pantry after I'm done performing. My trainers always insisted that such levels of eating are essential to maintain the strength needed to dance so much. I don't work quite that hard anymore, more selective in where and when and what I perform, but I still eat quite a bit." Many had teased him for it, insisting he was a glutton and would get fat, but especially when he was younger, he simply danced and practiced and moved too much for that to ever really be a concern. Maybe in another decade or so, when his joints started to weaken, limiting his movements.
For the present, he drank water, waited for the summons, and then poured all the energy he had left into dancing for Shafiq, eager to please, to make easier, if only the slightest bit, whatever he was trying to accomplish here tonight.
This final dance was especially known for being sensual. Usually it was put in the middle of a performance, bringing the crowd to a climax before being followed by one to three dances that gradually cooled them off again. Paired with his costume and the setting, it was definitely not for public performance.
He was heaving for breath when he finished, dripping sweat that made him itchy and caused the shorter strands of his hair to stick to his skin. The applause was gratifying, and the sinuous way Ender approached him bearing wine was better by far.
"Beautiful performance," Ender murmured, the words only for them. "Hopefully next time we can invite you to linger. For now, though, my king wishes you a pleasant night and sweet dreams."
Jankin wondered how often a king did that, wishing others sweet dreams.
Instead of asking, he only smiled and accepted the wine, still not used to drinking from another's hands, and bowed to Shafiq before saying, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, Master Jankin."
Jankin withdrew, smiling fleetingly at Ender, and returned to the antechamber. As promised, food had been laid out on the low table on the opposite side of the room, along with still more water and three different kinds of wines. "I wish I knew anything about these wines."
The servant brightened. "I can show you! I'm actually going to school for it, many of us do, since it's such an intricate matter, and you can't go far in the palace without knowing your wines."
"I can only imagine, just on what I've seen in my short time here so far. Join me, please. What's your name?"
"Vahid," he replied, and took a seat, pouring them both wine from the stack of many dishes set next to the carafes. "These are evening wines, meant to be drunk during or after dinner, all light to go with the food and encourage relaxation." He touched each one in turn as he added, "These are Whispered Secret, Fading Song, and Gentle Lullaby."
Jankin listened avidly as he explained the regions they came from, what was unique about those regions and the wines they produced, how they were categorized, arranged, chosen, and so much more. By the time they finished the meal, he was all but falling asleep where he sat, but between the dancing and the dinner, it had been a wonderful night. "Thank you for spending so much time with me, Master Vahid."
"Just Vahid is fine."
"Then Jankin, please. Thank you again. I will leave you to find your bed."
"I can walk with you a ways. I have to head in that direction anyway."
"Marvelous. So what do you do when not working?"
"I'm betrothed!" Vahid said excitedly as they walked through the halls. "The contract was signed just yesterday, and there is an engagement celebration being arranged for the end of the month."
"Congratulations. If you need a dancer, I'm happy to oblige for a friend."
Vahid stumbled to a halt. "Really?"
"Really," Jankin said. "If you feel you must compensate, I'm happy to have more wine lessons."
"Deal!" Vahid hugged him, which took him by surprise, as it wasn't the sort of overt casual affection he'd seen much on display in Tavamara so far.
"If you need anything, at any time," Vahid said as they came to halt where their paths diverged, "please feel free to ask for me by name. I am happy to serve as long as you require."
He'd imagine that would also be a feather in Vahid's cap, being personally requested. "I will do that. Thank you and goodnight."
"Goodnight, Jankin."
Back in his room, he had barely enough energy left to bathe before he once more fell into bed without bothering to dress.