The Invisible Chains - Part 1: Bonds of Hate (Dark Tales of Randamor the Recluse)

by Andrew Ashling

  “So, he is a prime candidate for blackmail, or for being seduced by hefty sums of money, I guess. He bears looking into further.”

  “Indeed, my lady, all the more so because there is something strange going on. Although some of the creditors could have initiated the procedure for foreclosure a long time ago, they haven't done so. The question is why. Our agents are delving deeper into it.”

  “Either they have access from time to time to important sums with which to keep their creditors from taking drastic steps, or someone higher up is protecting them. Find out which.”

  “Tomar Parmingh. Brilliant legal mind and seemed to be set for an equally brilliant and very fast career in the Royal Administration. Yet he ends up in the Northern Marches in an obscure department, whose main task it is to keep an eye on the administration of the province of Amiratha, and not even as department head. The official explanation is that his tendency to speak his mind under all circumstances and his utter lack of diplomatic skills are to blame. But we discovered something else. He has a younger brother, Landar Parmingh, eighteen years old, who is in prison for the moment.”

  “What was his crime?”

  “Ah, that we don't know. You see, my lady, less than a year ago he was discreetly arrested, and he has been kept in custody at the pleasure of the king ever since. That means that he can be kept a prisoner indefinitely, that his records are closed, that he has no right to legal representation and that he is held incommunicado. Usually this status is reserved for persons suspected of crimes against the state. Of course the king can slam that qualification on everybody, for about every reason he cares to come up with.”

  “Which means that Tomar Parmingh could be the victim of blackmail, but only by the king or somebody very close to him. Nobody else could influence the destiny of his younger brother. Is it possible that he was planted in Lorseth as an agent by the king? In that case Tenaxos got lucky when Tomar caught Anaxantis's eye.”

  “We will do our best to find out, my lady, but I don't need to tell you how extremely difficult this will be.”

  “Not to say nearly impossible. Kept at the pleasure of the king. One could as well order his headstone, though nobody would know where to place it. What could an eighteen year old boy have done to warrant such treatment? It will probably be a lot easier to find out how the Busskals keep their head above water.”

  In the barracks of the pages the three boys had just gone to bed, when a storm broke loose above Lorseth. The rain hammered mercilessly upon the wooden roof ,and the wind howled fiercely. Frequently a frightful, crackling thunder was heard, followed by a lightning flash that bathed the inside of the barrack in a ghostly white light.

  Nothing of all this seemed to disturb the peaceful slumber of Arranulf, who by all appearances was dead to the world, oblivious to all the racket going on. Obyann, however had difficulty falling asleep. Every time he almost drifted into a light slumber, a new outburst of thunder startled him wide awake. He turned and tossed to find a comfortable sleeping position, when suddenly he saw someone looming over him. At that moment a lightening flash temporally made Rahendo's melancholy face visible, staring at him with big, inquisitive eyes.

  “Aaaah,” Obyann yelled, unable to stop himself.

  “Are you awake?” Rahendo whispered.

  “No, I'm fast asleep and dreaming of cows dancing through the streets of Ormidon. What do you think?” he snarled.

  “I can't sleep. I'm too afraid.”

  “Yeah, well, I can't stop the storm, can I? I've got trouble falling asleep myself. That's no reason to sneak up on people like that. I could have taken you for Ruldo, one of our peasants and the nastiest jerk you've ever seen. I could have hurt you severely.”

  As he made to turn away, Rahendo shook his shoulder with his ringed hand.

  “I'm afraid. Can I sleep here?”

  “Here? Here as in here here?” Obyann asked staggered, not believing his ears.

  Rahendo nodded vigorously.

  “Yes, please. My sisters always let me sleep with them when it storms.”

  “Do I look like one of your sisters, kid? Even vaguely?”

  Rahendo shook his head negatively.

  “But you'll do. Please.”

  The big, sad eyes kept staring penetratingly at Obyann.

  “I'll do, eh. Why, thank you, kind sir, but no thanks. Ask Arranulf, I bet he'll be more, eh, amenable to the whole idea.”

  “He's in a deep sleep. I can't ask him. Please.”

  “I will not be getting any sleep myself before I agree, will I?”

  “No,” Rahendo shook his head energetically again.

  “You'll stay there yammering and whining, won't you?” Obyann sighed.

  Rahendo nodded intently. Obyann turned his back to him and with one hand lifted the covers behind him.

  “All right then, hop in. But I warn you. No funny stuff. You hear me? Definitely no funny stuff.”

  He heard some rustling behind him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked slightly alarmed, but taking care not to turn back.

  “I'm taking off my nightshirt. Can't stand it. I sleep in the buff,” Rahendo said while he slid next to Obyann into bed.

  “You're sleeping naked? Listen kid, you stay on your side of the bed and—”

  He stopped mid sentence as he felt himself being spooned from behind by Rahendo, who, pressing himself against him, flung an arm around him.

  “By the seven pits of Murokthil, if that dirty dickhead Ruldo ever finds out about this, I'll never hear the end of it,” Obyann muttered. “Damn it, now I'll not only be that bastard, but that boy-fucking-bastard.”

  “Thank you, Obyann,” Rahendo whispered and planted a wet kiss in his neck.

  Obyann shuddered.

  Being the only one who had enjoyed a good night's sleep, Arranulf was the first to wake up. Right after he had rubbed his eyes, he was greeted by the endearing vision of Obyann lying on his back, softly snoring and frowning in his sleep, with Rahendo lying with his head on his chest, the tip of his ringed thumb between his lips.

  “Well, will you look at that?” he said softly to himself. “Sir I-like-fat-women-with temple-door-wide-hips-and-don't-you-forget-it has found himself a sleeping buddy.”

  Without making a sound he took a chair and placed it beside the bed. Smiling he sat down, waiting for them to wake up, anticipating Obyann's expression of horror at being found out like this with gleeful delight.

  “Oh, Ramaldah, this is going to be such a fun day.”

  Ehandar had been awake for some time and was waiting for Anaxantis to come and get him. The storm had kept him up for a great part of the night. Some rain had seeped through the slits, high up in the wall, and made the straw moist and fragrant. He stayed under the covers, where it was warm, longing to be able to get up, wash himself and get warm before the fire in the hearth.

  Finally he heard footsteps coming down, but they passed his little room. After some minutes they came up again.

  “You can come up,” he heard when they went by his door.

  He dressed quickly.

  “Morning,” he said, when he entered the big room.

  “Morning,” Anaxantis answered. “See to the fire, will you? It has almost gone out.”

  After removing most of the cinders with an ash pan into a wooden, lidded crate and putting some fresh logs on the fire, he remained standing before the hearth, watching the flames lick at the wood, until he felt warm again.

  He took off his clothes, threw them upon the big chair and went into the bathroom.

  When he reemerged after some ten minutes, a towel wrapped around his waist, he went straight to the wardrobe to get clean pants and a fresh shirt, but couldn't find them.

  “Anaxantis, do you know what happened to my clean clothes? It's odd, but I seem to be all out.”

  “No, you're not out, I took them,” Anaxantis said.

  Ehandar looked at the chair where he had left the clothes he had been wearing, but t
hey too were gone. At that moment he got the ominous feeling he was in for another round of humiliation.

  “Why did you take my clothes?” he asked against his better judgment.

  “Your clothes?” Anaxantis asked while he girded his sword on. He raised his eyebrows. “Your clothes?” he repeated. “Must I remind you that there is nothing, nothing at all, you possess? See, that's exactly why I took them. It's time you realized just exactly what your standing is.”

  “But—”

  “Lose the towel.”

  “Anaxantis, I—”

  “Not another word. Lose the towel. Now.”

  Anaxantis's face had turned to stone as he kept staring as Ehandar slowly removed the towel and let it fall to the floor.

  “Why?” was all he could utter.

  “Why? The short answer is, because it pleases me. You don't want to know the long answer.”

  Ehandar remained silent.

  “You do want to please me, don't you?” Anaxantis asked softly.

  “You know I do,” Ehandar replied as persuasive as he could. “But is this... is this really necessary?” he added pleadingly.

  “Yes, it is,” his brother said resolutely. “It is, because I want you to understand fully just who and what you are. And this is it. Just like you are standing there. Naked. Nameless. With nothing to call your own. No better than a beast in the wild.”

  Anaxantis had come up to him and looked him straight in the eyes, searching.

  “Besides, I don't see what the big deal is,” he added. “I've seen you naked before. You've seen me naked before.”

  He slowly circled around Ehandar, who tried to follow him with his eyes while maintaining his position.

  “It's... it's different...,” he said softly.

  “Be that as it may,” Anaxantis continued unrelenting, “the fact remains that you own nothing, and everything you use is only because I permit you to. And you are not to use towels, sheets or whatever improperly as some substitute for clothing. Under no condition. Not even when I'm not here. Is that understood?”

  For the merest fraction of a second rebellion flickered in Ehandar's eyes, but it quenched almost as soon as it had lighted. One word of his little brother and the guards would storm in the room and drag him naked out of it, down the stairs, over the inner court yard, for all to see. They would chain him ,and by late afternoon he would be at the Farms, where he would be forced to work the land immediately upon arrival, as soon as they had thrown him off the cart. It didn't bear thinking about. He couldn't take the risk. He must try to placate his little brother. Do everything to prevent that from happening.

  He looked in the cold eyes that were staring at him.

  “Yes, I understand.” he whispered almost inaudible.

  “What did you say? Speak up, man.”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” he shouted, nearly in tears.

  “Good. It's not as if you are going out regularly.”

  He saw Anaxantis looking him over from head to toe and felt as if he was being appraised as cattle. A deep sense of shame and humiliation came over him, and as he felt his face becoming glowingly red, he looked down, just in time to see Anaxantis lift his member with the outstretched index finger of his right hand. He looked immediately away.

  “Please... please, don't...” he said, neither daring to move nor looking at his brother, but standing rigidly and staring at the wall before him.

  Anaxantis didn't seem to hear him and Ehandar felt him looking at his member as it slowly began to rise. By the time it stood fully erect, his brother was staring in his eyes, and he had to fight to hold back his tears.

  “Well, I have to go,” Anaxantis said suddenly and gave him a light slap on the buttocks.

  At the door he turned around and once again looked over his older brother, who still stood petrified where he had left him with his unabated erection.

  “I almost forgot. Clean the floor today. Thoroughly, please. It's dirty.”

  Ehandar didn't trust himself to answer.

  “Have you heard me?” Anaxantis asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I heard you.”

  “Well?”

  “Yes, I will clean the floor.”

  Anaxantis turned around and left without another word.

  For several minutes Ehandar remained standing where he was, dazed and bewildered. Finally he collected the towel from the floor and, out of habit, was about to wrap it around his waist, but then reconsidered.

  “What if he comes back unexpectedly. He will be furious. There is no telling what he will do.”

  He wanted to lie down in the big bed and pull the sheets over him, just to be covered, but he didn't dare. Not only was he certain that Anaxantis would consider lying in bed by day improper use of the sheets, but he could not, he simply could not lie down in Anaxantis's bed without having been given express permission. Without having been invited into it.

  He staggered to the big chair, sank down in it, buried his head in his hands and began to cry uncontrollably.

  He lost all notion of time, but at long last the tears were spent.

  He went over to the cabinet where he kept the silver flute Anaxantis had given him for his birthday. Next to it lay the cheap wooden box with the cards Renda had given him, and the sight almost started him weeping again. He took the dagger that lay beside them and looked at the engraving.

  Redina Mo Sevrai. Medicine For The Heart.

  “Why does he let me keep this? For that matter why did he ever give it to me? What is he trying to say? Is he going to drive me so far that I use it on myself? Is that what he wants? Does he want to be rid of me, without having to soil his own hands? If that is his intention, why wait? Why not have done with it?”

  He thought back at the night of New Year's eve.

  “What was that all about? It looked as if he wanted me, and not as a plaything either, but as a partner. There was love there. I'm certain of it. I couldn't have been that wrong, could I? And now... What made him change his mind? Was it something I did? Or said? And why is he always looking at me as if he is searching for something?”

  Dozens of questions kept revolving around his mind. Absentmindedly he balanced the point of the dagger on a finger, winced and quickly took it away again. It was so sharp that by its own weight it had ruptured the skin, and a drop of blood welled up. He lay the dagger back and put the injured finger in his mouth, pensively sucking up the blood.

  It seemed almost impossible, but his world had become even smaller. It was far too cold to go outside on the balcony in his present condition. He loved sitting with his back against the wall or leaning on the parapet, looking out over the sea and listening to the shrill cries of the gulls. One more thing he would have to do without. Maybe in the spring or early summer...

  When Anaxantis came back that evening, Ehandar sat on the rug by the fireplace, hugging his legs, his chin resting on his knees.

  “Didn't I ask you to clean the floor?” his brother asked while loosening the claps of his mantle.

  With a jolt he looked up. He had completely forgotten about the floor.

  “I am sorry, I forgot... I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so sorry,” he stammered.

  “I ask you to do one thing. One thing. And you had all day long for doing it,” Anaxantis sighed. “Well, never mind. Do it now.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes, right now.”

  “I'll need a mop, a bucket... Where—”

  “Use a towel and one of the basins out of the bathroom.”

  “But—”

  “Now.”

  When he came back out of the bathroom, Anaxantis sat in the big chair, staring in the flames.

  “Start at the door and refresh the water regularly,” he said without looking up.

  “Yes. Yes, I will,” Ehandar replied.

  He sat down on his knees beside the basin, dipped the towel in the cold water and started mopping the floor. The water turned brown the first time he wrung out the towel.

 
; It took him almost two hours to clean most of the floor on hands and knees. he had to stand up regularly to fetch clean water. He thought back at the many times he had passed servants cleaning the palace floors, without paying them any attention, or giving them even a fleeting thought.

  Only the stretch of floor between the big chair and the fireplace, up to the wall where the bed stood, remained to be done. When he started for the wall, intending to work his way back to the fireplace, Anaxantis stopped him.

  “Begin here,” he said, indicating with his left hand the space between the chair and the hearth.

  While slowly and laboriously progressing towards the far wall, he suddenly felt like an itch. Surreptitiously he glanced over his shoulder, met Anaxantis's eyes and immediately looked straight ahead again.

  “He's looking at me. That's why he wanted me to start at the fireplace. He's staring at my bare ass. He's enjoying himself like... like before.”

  He bowed his head deeper to conceal his embarrassment and forced himself to persistently work on, while feeling his brother's gaze burning on his backside. He knew that trying to keep his legs together would be futile. He had to move regularly. Like a beast in the wild. They didn't care that their anus was in full view. He realized that with every move he made he gave his little brother also a view of his swinging member and testicles. And, to make matters worse, now he had to suppress and almost incontrollable urge to scratch himself there. It was all he could do to keep himself upright on his hands and knees as he felt every last drop of dignity, self worth and humanity drain out of him.

  At long last he was almost finished. He crouched down beside the big chair, his basin filled with fresh water.

  “The spot before the chair. Do you want me to do it now? Or tomorrow?”

  Without speaking, Anaxantis lifted his feet and put them on the seating, wrapping his arms around his legs. Ehandar crawled before the chair and cleaned the floor, his hands fiery red by now from the cold water, while his brother studied him attentively. When he was almost finished, he felt his buttocks being patted.