by Jane Baskin
She, startling both men in her radiance. Noar, gallantly pulling her chair out for her. Knew such maneuvers were important in the South. Where ladies liked to be treated as … ladies.
Now Noar, beginning to smile more. Returned every one of Iskaya-te’s smiles with one of his own. Noar, a handsome young man by any standard. With – when he wanted – a devilish smile. Occasionally looking over at Iskar, to see if he objected to what was becoming a flirtation between his sister and the northern stranger. Hard to tell. Iskar, staring into space, seeming more than a little drunk.
Suddenly: very late. Noar, looking around. Noticing they were the last patrons left in the lounge. Noticing the bartender, cleaning glasses with slight irritation – trying to cover it, of course, in the presence of lords. But … wanting to shut down for the night.
Rising from his chair. Extending his hand to Iskaya-te gallantly. “I think they want us to leave.”
A light laugh. So pretty, her. “I think you’re right.” Nudged her brother, nodding off in his chair. “Iskar. We have to go.” Took Noar’s hand.
Noar: couldn’t help noticing the delicacy, the smoothness of her little hand. None of the signs of work weariness so common in the far North.
Pleasant goodbyes said in the hotel lobby. Noar, watching closely as Iskaya-te guided her brother to the far stair, held his arm as he ascended. Watching the swirl of her pretty silk dress, just below knee length, giving a hint to her lovely legs. Hoping she would look back at him.
She did not. Probably too busy helping her oaf of a brother up the stairs.
Almost a full week before Nayan discovered Noar’s absence. He and Zoren-te, rising from the marriage bed now and then. To take tea. To take ale in the evenings. To see, even in passing, other humans. So they could dispel the delicious illusion that they were the only living creatures in the universe. That there was nothing to feel but the reckless abandon of their flesh.
A week after the ceremony, Che: taking Nayan aside in the great hall. Not yet quite dinnertime; the hall, mostly empty but for a few scattered tea drinkers. Che and Luisa-te, joining the other newlyweds by the fireplace. Che, motioning for Nayan to join him for a short walk.
“Colwen told me something three days ago. He would have told me sooner, but he didn’t want to disturb me. Likewise, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Nayan: a grin. “That was considerate of you. And Colwen.”
Che’s return grin: brief. “I don’t know if it’s good news or bad.”
Tell me.
Noar left a week ago on the train. He had Colwen come with, to bring his gantha back. He went to Sauran City.
Sauran City?
That’s what he told Colwen.
For how long? And why?
He didn’t say, about either. But Colwen said he had a monstrous valise.
Nayan, his brow darkening. What was his impetuous brother up to now? Had been grouchy for months. But. Nayan: had had other things on his mind.
So he did not find out for another week, that Noar had taken every dime he owned out of the Cha-ning bank, transferred it to a bank in Sauran City. Had also taken out a substantial amount of cash.
Noar – like most far northerners – spent little of his gell profits. Most of his life: spent imprisoned by the foul northern weather. Summer: all too brief. And travel, rare. The far North: remote. And the train: a recent visitor. The result: few people traveled regularly to Sauran City or the other urban centers of the temperate zone. Perhaps northerners: unimaginative. Or stuck in old ways. For northerners, the cities: had little of the allure they had for people who lived closer to them.
So Nayan: two reactions. One, the understanding that his brother had enough money to stay away for the rest of his life.
Two, surprise. Shock, even; to find his brother gone. Simply gone.
Had never been separated from his brother in his life.
The far northern way of life: oddly addictive, for those born to it. Why would his brother just turn his back on it? Such a thing: so rare as to be unremembered. Nayan: unable to think of any relative who had done something similar. Aterya-te, his Rhymney cousin: knew she had gone to the university in Sauran City to study medicine. But couldn’t wait to come home.
Lots of far northerners, going south for education. Himself included. Even Noar … although never as far as Sauran City. But always coming home. Always.
What was going on with Noar? What did he mean to do?
Zoren-te: I don’t know what’s going on with him. But … I’ve felt something dark about him lately.
Lately?
Since Vel. Since – before Vel. I don’t know. I think … when your parents died. Maybe then.
What did you feel?
I don’t know, Nayan. Just something … like the way he looks at me sometimes. I can’t be sure, it’s just now and then … but I’ll get a weird feeling and then I look over quickly and there’s Noar, staring at me. Glaring at me. Like his eyes could … kill me.
Silence. Then: Zoren. That’s … crazy. Are you sure?
Nayan! He kidnapped me! He dragged me through the jungle, all the way here. He was a beast!
I need to know. Did he ever … touch you? I mean … you know what I mean.
No. Aside from pulling my pants down so I could relieve myself, no. He was … a gentleman. Which is a strange thing to say about someone who’s taken you from your home by force. But he never did anything by force except drag me north. After he got my pants down, he walked away, until I was finished. He didn’t come back until I called for help, or he heard me struggling to get dressed with bound hands.
She could never have known the relief that flooded through Nayan at those words. (What? Have I come to doubt my brother? My brother?)
Why are you asking these things, Nayan? What’s going on?
Noar’s gone away.
Where? When did he go?
Over a week ago. Almost two, now. He went to Sauran City, by train.
When’s he coming back?
I don’t know that he is.
And likewise he could never know, the relief that flooded through Zoren-te, at those words.
25. The Many Deights of Manhood
Noar: amazed.
Why did I never realize how much there was, in this city? Why did I only go as far as Gaurien for university? Gaurien’s a backwater village compared to Sauran City. I see now … I’ve spent my life hanging around Nayan’s coattails, waiting for crumbs to fall off his table … I’m home, now.
Delighting in so many things. Like: anonymity. Being able to walk down a street unknown. Able to prove himself anew to every new acquaintance. Especially his new friends, the Lord and Lady of Shelsay. Had been spending a lot of time with them, singly with the young Lord and other times, with brother and sister together. Could not deny his attraction to the elegant Lady Iskaya-te.
What a woman! Noar: had never known a woman quite like her. Even the Lady of Vel, his one-time captive, had been more like a far northern woman. But Lady Iskaya-te: so completely … feminine. Could not think of any other word for it. Sometimes, lay back on the absurdly large bed in his room, just thinking about her. Wondering what was so different about her. Could not come up with any other answer, but that she was absolutely, quintessentially … feminine.
Not even the word ‘female’ described her. Seren-ye was female. Like a gantha mare, or an animal of some sort. Smelled female, different from his friends. Arched her hips up to meet him … like a female animal. Sighed, moaned; in a female voice. Otherwise, worked and lived like anyone else; like any man. Prettier than a man, but … nothing at all like Iskaya-te.
Lady Iskaya-te, delicate. Exquisite. Not just pretty. Perfection. Soft, dainty. These, the words that came to mind in the lazy afternoons he spent lounging in his room. While Lord Iskar slept off last evening’s brandy, prepared for the night of revels to come.
Lord Iskar: a nearly perfect companion. Intelligent, worldly wise, just book-smart enough to be entertai
ning. Not erudite. Not like Nayan, who had read almost all the books in the castle library. Who knew answers to almost any question.
No. Iskar: as merry and lighthearted as Nayan was serious. Skilled in the arts of men. Riding ganthas through the park, obviously expert in the saddle. On one occasion when a man was too brash with Iskaya-te, quick and effective with his moves. The offender, on the ground in seconds.
Noar, finding a measure of identification with the young lord. Iskar: having lost both his parents suddenly, within the past year. A hunting accident, not two days after his father had returned from a foray against peasant armies. To have survived war, and get shot hunting a wild pig: sadly ironic. And Iskar: a sub lord, like himself. Not destined to lead, but not – like himself – fated to invisibility either. Leaving – happily – the heavy lifting to his own older brother, being free to make merry in the city and town.
Noar: had never looked at it like that. When Nayan suddenly ascended to Lord, perhaps … had been unprepared. His parents’ death: so sudden. Nayan’s ascension to Lord and wedded adulthood: so quick. No longer the big brother to fool around with. No longer the member of a group of carefree young men, fighting and drinking together. No. Now: the Lord of Cha-ning. And he, Noar, off to the side.
But Iskar: a different point of view. “Come now, Noar. We’re younger sons. We knew all along we’d never ascend. So why worry about it? The point is, we’re still Lords. We’re noble born; we’re aristocrats. So all the world is ours. It’s our job to enjoy our position. To exploit it to its fullest. To have fun, day and night.”
At the time of this conversation, Noar: having told Iskar the truth of his identity. Not Rhymney; Cha-ning. The South’s favorite target. And the South’s most fearsome adversary as well.
“You northerners are tough bastards, I’ll give you that.” Another one of Iskar’s more memorable comments. Followed by a long, drunken conversation about past raids. Wins, losses; both sides. (Iskar seemd to think that running away was a win) No mention of the savage attack on Cha-ning. Not much mention of the recent foray into the South, the burning of Vel and Darleigh. This, Iskar believed: the work of northern mercenaries and bandits.
“Really, Noar, you feed your peasants too well. Your soldiers have little to do except fight us off when we come raiding in the spring. That’s hardly a full time job. So it’s not surprising they hang around cities with nothing to do, and eventually start fighting the South on the wrong side.”
“Damn shame.” Noar, still keeping the most fearsome of his secrets.
But Iskaya-te. Oh. She … could lead him to abandon. His fascination: becoming intense. Found her in his head throughout the day. Even in his dreams.
Now: dressing for dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the city. Renowned for its expertly prepared regional fare, from all over the planet. Very exclusive; reservations had been difficult to get. Noar had had to inform the maître-d that he was a lord; something he was unaccustomed to doing. This, happening frequently, here. Felt funny, the first time. But now, getting used to it. Rank: important in the city. Almost meaningless in the far north, but here … yes. Felt good, actually. Like he was a man of importance.
Starting to like it when hotel staff fawned over him. Definitely enjoying it when the maid who cleaned his room every day smiled at him with undisguised awe. Pleased when hotel guests parted to let him pass, murmured his identity to one another.
There. Examining himself in the dressing room mirror. Didn’t even have such a mirror at Cha-ning. Now, able to see himself from head to toe. Garbed in the latest men’s fashion: slim dark pants, blue shirt the color of his eyes, vest of supple thin leather, high boots. Every bit the gentleman. And a handsome young gentleman as well. These clothes are form fitting. Impractical, but I’m not here to ride ganthas hard or hunt or go through a dozen pairs of gloves harvesting gell. I’m here to enjoy life, and I look the part.
Put on his knee length leather coat, went to meet his new friends.
Lady Iskaya-te: especially ravishing tonight. Elegant in her calf-length dress of burgundy velvet, perfect for the slightly chilly evening. Pintucks of small pearls on the loose bodice: not ostentatious, just enough to be unique. Like everything else about her. Her delicately voluptuous figure, her golden hair twisted enticingly around her head. Her lovely swan neck; her radiant smile. Heads turning as she passed by, escorted by Noar. Noar, noticing the looks. Yes.
A crazy thought popping into his head: She’d be a fitting partner for me. For a man like me.
Let the thought go. Had never had such a thought in his life; but … not much disturbed by it.
Iskaya-te, leaning close toward him, to whisper something in his ear. This, at the end of the meal, when Iskar had excused himself. The scent of her light perfume, distracting him.
Shook his head, laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. I was … distracted.”
“Really? By what?”
A moment of self-consciousness. His naturally ruddy complexion, becoming slightly redder. Letting his hair fall over his face, to hide. A laugh from Iskaya-te.
“You’re so attractive when you do that, Noar.”
More self-conscious. “Do what?”
“Blush and hide behind your hair.”
Noar, cursing all heavens that he had been born fair of coloring. Nayan never blushed, despite his weirdly white skin. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“You were.”
Meeting her eyes. Impossible not to laugh. “Okay, maybe I was. Just a little.”
“Just a little.” Her laugh, like a summer breeze.
Then joined by Iskar. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you two were lovers. Smiling and blushing at each other like that.”
Noar, embarrassed. But looking over at Iskaya-te. Really? Yes … she too, a definite blush. Finding himself laughing. Couldn’t remember when he had felt so happy.
Iskar’s call didn’t come for a while. By the time it did … had been associating almost exclusively with Noar for over two months.
The two young men: bonded thoroughly. So much in common. Both having lost their parents within the past year. Both second sons, young lords who would never ascend. Both highly skilled in the arts of war.
Also skilled in the arts of attraction; both very handsome young men. Thick light hair, fetching pale eyes. Stature and bearing of warrior lords. Most evenings, spent in the company of Iskar’s lovely sister. But now and then, heading out together, seeing what they could find.
Noar, discovering quickly that such behavior: distasteful to Iskaya-te. One morning after a night of revelry she: barely speaking to her brother at breakfast. Noar, aware that this would be a good time to remain silent. Watched closely as Iskar attempted every known way to soften his iceberg sister.
Finally succeeding. A grenuine look and tone of shame. “Iskaya. This simply can’t continue, my love. I can’t stand it when you won’t talk to me.”
Iskaya, wheeling on him. But her voice, still delicate, despite her eyes flashing anger: “Then perhaps you shouldn’t come home in the company of a trollop.”
Iskar, blushing slightly. Rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Um. Yes. I can see that bothered you.”
“Bothered me! I am ashamed! I couldn’t even meet the eyes of other guests when I came down for tea. You behavior shames me as well as yourself. It shames our house.”
Iskar, holding his hand over his mouth for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ll accept my apology, dear sister?”
Whereupon Iskaya-te rose from the table and walked angrily out of the restaurant. In a moment, Noar: understanding why Iskar had tried to cover his mouth. Was trying not to laugh in his sister’s face. After she left, let it go.
“I tell you, Noar, women are impossible. It’s a good thing they’re so pretty.”
Noar, joining him in his laugh. “I’m, uh … surprised.”
“What? Your sister wouldn’t react like that?”
“I don’t have a sister. But if I did, no,
she wouldn’t react like that. Northern women are … different.”
“Really? How so?”
“They’re … um … freer.”
“Freer? As in, they give themselves freely? You can’t be serious.”
“After a certain age, yes. They do.”
“What, no virgins to marry off in lucrative matches?”
“Not usually. If there are, it’d be unique. I don’t think I’ve ever met a virgin over eighteen years old.”
“Gods alive, Noar. When do we depart?”
Noar’s turn to laugh. “But – they’re not like Iskaya.”
“No pretty girls in the North? Are they all hairy, like men? I’ve heard otherwise, you know. A relative of mine was so besotted by a female warrior he met in a raid he tried to carry her off. She stuck him and got away.”
A laugh. “There are lots of pretty girls in the North. They’re just not like Iskaya. Not so – I don’t know – feminine. Not so exquisite. Life in the North is kind of hard.”
“So long as they’re better looking than a man or a gantha, I’m game.”
Noar, watching a thought sneak through his mind. An image of himself, bringing Iskar and Iskaya-te to the North, to Cha-ning. Dismissed the thought. Nayan wouldn’t like them.
To Iskar: “Do you think she’s angry at me, as well?”
“I don’t know. How much noise did you make? She may not be aware that you came home with the trollop’s – uh – sister.”
A grin from Noar. Then lost in the memory of the night. He and Iskar, at a luxurious but infamous lounge not far from the central park. Where prostitutes cruised the gentlemen, as they had hoped. Both young men, finding companions for the night.
Noar, hoping he had not made noise. But worried that he had. A tremendous night, for him. Had never been with a professional in his life. No such need, in the far North. So: had never known the particular skills they possessed. Off and on all night, many times feeling as though he wanted to cry out. Loudly. Thinking of the amazing things his partner did to him. Things he had never heard of. Would have felt like a country bumpkin but for his own extensive experience of the female body. And the one time he pretended she was Iskaya-te … oh. Had to bite his fist for fear of shouting. In the morning, decided not to complain about the price. Had been worth every penny.