Donarec and the Warlord

by Zackery Arbela

  Which meant they weren't going to stay here for very long, and why he wasn’t all that concerned by their situation. Someone wanted them here, likely for a talk. Depending on how that conversation went, things might get better...or worse.

  “Quiet!” he said over his shoulder, as he heard a door clang open. Two guards came down the hall, one with a set of keys, the other with a bow and nocked arrow. The cell door was unlocked and opened, and they stood aside, as third came into view. An Irzemya, wearing a red silk tunic instead of armor, and tight black trousers tucked into riding boots. He held a bag in his hand, somewhat gingerly.

  “I am Jokko Vaiean,” he said, introducing himself. “You are the ones who caused that ruckus in the Nozoko Market earlier today.”

  Donarec looked back at the others, who said nothing. They were leaving it to him...fair enough. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “we didn't start it. That fellow on the horse had one cup too many down his gullet.”

  “That man was my brother, Uska. He is dead.”

  Donarec held back a curse. “My condolences on your loss. But none of that violence had anything to do with us. None of us pulled a weapon, and we were leaving when the guards took us.”

  “Yes, I know.” Jokko opened the sack and turned it over. A severed head dropped to the ground. It was Uska, his face locked a final permanent look of shock.

  Donarec looked down at the head, then back at Jokko. “Why show this to us?”

  “As an apology for his behavior. My father has many sons, and Uska was the least among us. He was a drunken lout who brought shame on our house, and our father ordered his dead to wipe the stain from our honor. I offer his head to you, and in particular the young lady from the Ijjin,” he nodded towards Tudai as he said this. “And he offers you the hospitality of his home.”

  Donarec thought on this. Either this or the jail cell… “Show us the way,” he replied

  It was dusk by the time they arrived at the House of Vaien. A humble name, for a truly impressive palace that took up all of a city block, surrounded by high rammed-earth walls covered with a fresh coat of brilliant whitewash that reflected the light of the torches. Donarec’s eye caught faint discoloration beneath the coats, the faint outlines of letters and scrawled obscenities. The people of Beremi were not shy when it came to giving their opinions. The door was made from thick planks of northern oak and reinforced with bands of iron, on which a twisting symbol was prominently displayed, the family crest.

  Jokko knocked, gave a password and showed his face through a slot, and then stood back as the door swung outward. They rose into a narrow courtyard, marked on either side by a high wall connected to the one surrounding the house, with armed men looking down on them, bows fitted to arrows. A murderers alley, where an enemy who’d broken down the door would be funneled and shot to pieces. Another door was at the end, which opened into a wide courtyard, where grooms waited to take their horses. The main building beyond was a squat structure with no windows on the ground floor, thick walls and a tall watchtower on the roof. They went through another door that was a brother to the one on the street and through a wide entry hall whose walls were marked with carved friezes of men in battle and on the hunt.

  Off to one side was a small shrine where stood a statue of a man in robes with a shaved head, holding a spear in one hand and the other raised in benediction. Before it was a bowl filled with clear water. Jokko dipped his fingers into the bowl, touched them to his lips then flicked the drps at the statue, bowed his head slightly in respect. Sehrem the Savior, god of these lands, who led their ancestors to the plains, subdued the fierce Shiraan and made them into the wretched Ashirzaai of today, now ascended to a glorious divinity. His holy city was Bojanna, far to the south.

  There were temples to the god in every city and town of Raxenora, and most houses had a shrine to him as well. Donarec bowed with respect - the gods of this land were not his own, but it was never good practice to dishonor any divinity in the places where it was strong, less misfortune follow you. Tudai merely looked at it door a moment, while Jaag rolled his eyes and managed to hide a smirk.

  They passed guard rooms, barracks for the household guard, and caught a brief sight of a great hall, with a throne at one end, wide benches and tables lined up on the floor, battle flags hanging from the rafters, with another door at the far end leading directly to the kitchens. Then they were climbing a set of stairs, with five tall portraits left and right on the walls. Irzemyai in full armor, looking fierce upon the world. “Vaien the Swift,” Jokko proclaimed, waving his hand at the first portrait, showing a man with dark hair and a stern, squarish jaw. “He was one of the first students of Warlord Orazaak, in the days when the Sword Fathers led our ancestors to this land. He is the founder of our house.”

  Four more generations followed, staring out as they went up the stairs. Near the top was the latest addition, a lean fellow with a sharply tripped black beard and piercing dark eyes. He had the same squarish jaw as his ancestor, though not as prominent. “Lord Kitaar,” said Jokko. “My honored father.”

  The second floor seemed to be reserved for the lord’s own residence. A long hallway bisected it into two distinct sections. Open doors land on both ends, out of which came the sounds of feminine voices and laughter. The rooms on the right held human women, all beautiful, wearing diaphanous silks designed more to highly the curves of their bodies than conceal them. On the left they caught glimpses of kuyei women, dressed much the same way.

  Jokko noted their curiosity. “Lord Kitaar is a man who enjoys the pleasures of his rank. He maintains two harems. One is reserved for his wives, the mothers of his children. Through them the next generation of our house is assured. Many are daughters of prominent families here in Beremi and the other cities.”

  “How many children does your lord have?” Jaag asked curiously.

  “Nineteen sons…” Jokko said before catching himself. “Apologies…now it is eighteen, though I am told two of the younger wives are with child, so that may change again.”

  “And daughters?” Tudai asked.

  Jokko paused in midstep. “To be honest, I don’t have an exact number,” he said. “Though the number is somewhat higher than that of his male heirs. The sons serve as warriors in our lord’s retinue, as envoys to his allies and enemies, as administrators and representatives to our family’s holdings and interests. In time he will choose one of us, the most worthy, as his primary heir, to succeed him when he passes from this world.”

  “So we did you a favor then?” Donarec said with a grin.

  Jokko did not return it. “Indeed,” he said. He was a bloodless sort, it seemed. “The daughters also have a purpose, for it is through their marriages that alliances will be forged. A few have also been pledged to the Temple of Sehrem, and one of my sisters may well attain a position of high rank, should things play out as we hope. Fear not, my lady,” he looked back at Tudai. “In the house of Vaien, all serve a purpose. We are all, sons and daughters, tools for our family’s advancement.”

  Donared glanced to the left. “And them?” he asked, gesturing towards the kuyei in their rooms.

  “They are here for pleasure,” said Jokko, as calmly as if he were discussing the purchase of a horse. “Our lord finds comfort and merriment among their number. Every one has been trained in the arts of pleasure, and brought into this house at great price. They give our lord a welcome distraction from the burdens of his responsibilities, and those among his servants who perform their duties well are rewarded with access as well, though of course they may not make use of those concubines whom the lord favors. It is a useful tool, to relieve the lusts and desires which naturally appear in the body. And because the coupling of human and kuyei will never produce offspring, there is no risk of them creating bastards.”

  He spoke of the matter in an almost clinical matter, cold and without emotion. Donarec noted also how he referred to Lord Kitaar as his ‘lord’ and not his father. An ominous sign...perhaps.


  They reached a door at the end of the hallway, which led into the private chambers of Lord Kitaar. It opened at the kock, and an elderly human servant appeared, who spoke briefly with Jokko.

  “My apologies,” Jokk said, turning around. “He is already at his pleasures. Follow me.” They went back down the hall and through the doors heading into the kuyei harem. Donarec looked around with curiosity, having heard stories about such places, which were unknown in Eburrea, while Jaag looked amused. Tudai, on the other hand, looked profoundly offended, which Jokko took note of.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said to her as they went in, “I do not partake of this place, though it has been offered.”

  Tudai didn't bother to answer.

  Inside it was as Donarec expcted, wode rooms and broad windows, walls of pink and white stone, pillars carved in the shape of nude women and muscular men holding up the ceiling, on whch were painted various erotic scenes of varying complxity and implausibility. At one particular image that stretched over a large chamber containing an oval-shaped bathing pool, Jaag looked up and said, “I don't think that is physically possible...unless the lucky man in the middle can detach one of his legs, or possesses an extra pair of reproductive organs.”

  “Maybe its aspirational,” Donarc said, marveling at the artistry and attention to detail. “Meant to give ideas rather than instruction.”

  “To do what? Breaks one’s knee?”

  The pool itself was unoccupied. Donarec could only speculate what kind of orgies were held in this place, but at the moment the only other person in the room was a human servant scrubbing a mop around the edge. The look of disgust on his face spoke volumes, and Jokko escorted them around the other side, cautioning them that the tiles on the floor could be slippery and to watch their step.

  Beyond were more rooms, filled with kuyei concubines lounging about. To a one they were young, beautiful in face and lush in their curves, their faces masks of seduction and sexual want. Yet a look in their eyes told a different story, a hint of the fear that must have lurked in the back of their minds, that their place here was precarious, dependent on the pleasure of the master who ruled at his will. From another room they heard the sound of laughter mingled with the playing of a harp, and to it they went.

  Kitaar Vaien was at least three decades older than the portrait that graced the top of the main stairway. He was still a lean man, though some parts had gone to fat, and his black hair was almost gone at the top of the pate, while the beard had turned iron gray. He wore loose silk trousers and robe carelessly tied at the waist. Next to him a kuyei woman plucking at a harp, while a bevy of other beauties surrounded him, two massaging his feet while a third held a bowl of cherries, and the fourth - who must have held some position of authority among her number - popped them into his open mouth while sporting a winsome simper.

  Jokko waited for a long moment, then at last cleared his throat. “Lord,” he said.

  Kitaar looked over, noted his son and the guests behind him. He snapped his fingers twice, and the women quickly moved away, taking position behind the large cushion on which he sprawled, kneeling in a line, their heads bowed. He stood and strode towards the new arrivals. He still moved with a warriors agility, and Donarec had no doubt that with a sword in hand he would be a formidable opponent.

  “So,” he said. “You are Donarec Kasovaron. Nephew of the great Scatonburi himself. Oh yes, I know who you are. And with you…” He looked past Donarec to his companions. “Jaagardeg Uthhoro, late of the Kilga Valley in Gusannagar. Known to be a skilled alchemist. You are a long way from home. And Tudai of the bal Shuruda, who is not so far from home but less able to return to it than these others, I imagine. Yes, I know who you are. Little happens across Raxenora that I don't know about, and that which is unknown to me isn't worth the time to learn.”

  Donarec met his gaze for a moment, then graciously bowed his head. “Our thanks, lord, for your hospitality. And our condolences on the loss of your son.”

  “Bah!” Kitaar waved it away as nothing. “He was a fool. I have many sons, and I do not mounn the loss of the stupid ones. It will only inspire his brothers to do better.” He snapped his fingers twice. One of the women rose and left the room.

  “Have you any sons?” Kitaar asked, as she returned with a tray, on which was a bottle of wine and four blown glass cups. Drinks were poured and shared out. The wine was sweet and danced across the tongue, though Donarec noticed that Kitaar barely let it touch his lips.

  “I do not,” Donarec answered. “No sons or daughters, no wives. Only my sword and my friends.”

  “And what else does a man truly need? Power and all the rest...meaningless! Although there are compensations.” His hand drifted along the backside of the concubine with the tray, who simpered in response.

  “You’re quite skilled with that blade, by all accounts!” Kitaar then said. “Word of your exploits in Saathi’s Hold has reached us. A man trained by the great Scatonburi, going up against those brigands...anyone with eyes to see would know they never stood a chance. It may interest you to know that Avaiea has retaken the town. A shame...I urged the Warlord to send an army to take it for Beremi, but the old lord of Avaiea was a boon companion of his, and he saw such an act as dishonorable. An opportunity lost, I fear.”

  “It was a dangerous place to be,” Donarec said. More than dangerous...there was still a wide yellowing spot under his ribs that ached from time to time. “We were glad to leave it behind. Lord, a traveler on the road told us that a band of Eburrean exiles had fetched up in Beremi. Do you know where we might find them?”

  Kitaar shook his head. “I fear you have missed them. They were here in the city, but left a week ago for Kedaj.”

  “Well, that is a shame.” Donarec placed the cup back on the tray. “I suppose we should be on our way…”

  “Hold! I have offered you the hospitality of my house! And their loss might be my gain. A Eburrean who fought under the legendary Taker of Buri, a Gusannagari alchemist, and archer from the Wastes of Ijjin! Men, and a woman, of rare skills indeed, of great value to any whom them they serve!” Kitaar smiled and held out his hands in welcome. “Why risk the road south with all the troubles that come with it, when offer you a place here, in my household? You would have an honored place here, befitting your station and skills. Gold aplenty...and other compensations.” Again, he caressed the concubine, whose arms at this point must have been numb from holding the tray for so long. She gave no sign of any discomfort though, a skill no doubt honed through long hours of practice.

  “What say you?” Kitaar declared. “Let your journeys end here, in Beremi, under my banner!”

  And for a moment, Donarec was tempted to say yes. It was a good offer...but he looked at the Ashirzaai women kneeling behind their lord, the fear behind their seductive masks. And Kitaar...behind his joviality was a predator’s cruelty. The mark of a man who saw the world and all the people within it as prey for his appetites. A man who killed his own son without a hint of remorse or a second thought.

  “Lord, you honor us,” Donarec said, taking the tactful way out. “But if my countrymen have left for Kedaj, then we would join them. I thank you for your hospitality.”

  He turned and left. A moment the others did the same, placing the cups on the tray. Kitaar did not seem upset, the smile remained on his face. “Enjoy your time in Beremi!” he called out as they escorted out of the harem.

  A servant led them out this time, Jokko nowhere to be seen. As they went down the grand stairway, Jaag asked. “Gold, women and all the wine a man could drink! Why would you turn that down?”

  “Any man with a shred of honor would spit it in that creature’s face!” Tudai said, her disgust plain.

  Donarec shook his head. “I fought for one whoremonger, to my everlasting shame,” he said. “And once was enough.”

  They reached the doors of the main house and went back into the courtyard. “So now what?” Tudai asked as they approached the wall surrounding the pla
ce, the archers up top watching them.

  “There’s nothing for us here,” Donarec answered. “I won’t be dragged into local squabbles, there was enough of that back in Saathi’s Hold, and I still have bruises from that mess! No, we’ll ride back out to the cavaranserai, there has to be someone there headed to Kedaj. We’ll sign on as guards...unless you would rather turn around and take Lord Kitaar’s offer?” he said the last to Jaag, looking at him as they approached the gate.

  Jaag shook his head. “It’s tempting...but I’d get bored in a month. I doubt he has any need for an alchemist, it’s you he was after. The nephew of the Great Scatonburi...tell me, what does every man north of the desert faint like a maiden on her wedding night at the mention of that name?”

  “If you knew the man,” Donarec answered, “you wouldn’t be impressed. Open up!”

  The gate swung open and they went out into the street. “We need to get our horses,” Tudai said as she passed through it.

  “They should still be at the jail,” Donared replied. “The city watch gave us back our weapons, but kept the mounts. Here’s hoping they won’t demand a fee for the beasts return.”

  “Mention Lord Kitaar’s name,” said Jaag. “He seems to have this town dancing on his string…oh, bugger all.”

  Jokko waited in the street, accompanied by a squad of men. The gate slammed shut behind, and they heard the sound of bolts being driven home.

  Donarec took stock of the situation...ten men, spread out. Some wearing armor, others in tunics, which meant this was put together quickly. All armed with swords. “Come to see us off?” Donarec asked, as his friends reached for their own weaponry.

  Jokko drew his sword, his men following suit and spreading out. “You should have taken my father’s offer,” he said with real regret. “No one refuses him and lives to benefit from our discomfort. His enemies will hear of it and reach out to you.”