"I'm not marrying material," she'd said.
Laxmi smiled shyly at him and he decided his mourning must end. He smiled back at his bride, thinking the Lakeshian princess was a much better match for him than a wild northern warrior woman. In this, at least, maybe doing his duty wasn't so bad after all.
The Jesters
Harish and Kartik reached Jevina, capital of Lakeshi, and mingled in the crowd feeling safe at last. There were so many people here, it would be impossible for Master Zahin to ever find them.
Kartik had left his gypsy tribe to join Master Zahin's itinerant circus as juggler and knife-thrower a decade ago. Over the years, he'd learned to play a stringed instrument (now sold) and sing decently.
The itinerant jesters had five closed wagons for family, animals, and props, and Kartik had shared one with the unmarried young men – which included teen Harish, a nimble acrobat who could walk on a tightrope or dance like a wild fire. Being a pretty boy with unusual gray eyes, Master Zahin often offered Harish's body to whoever was interested for a fee.
After ten years of watching the use and abuse of younger member's bodies, Kartik had decided he'd had enough. Harish was too meek to call Master Zahin a "bloody pimp", so Kartik had acted on his behalf, dragging him away from the camp.
The pair had traveled on foot, stopping only to eat or sleep, but now they felt they could finally rest properly. Because they didn't have any money, they either had to sell their props – Kartik's throwing knives or Harish's juggling implements – or put on a show to gather a few coins.
"We can juggle and do some gymnastic," Harish suggested. "Or I can be your target boy."
Kartik usually used one of the girls as target, he'd never used Harish. He stared surprised at the young man, who smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
"I can stand still," Harish insisted. "Your knives never touch anyone."
"I brought you here to keep you safe," Kartik said, frowning with worry. Throwing knives at Harish felt wrong. He could name his feelings for Harish now, even if he'd never said it out loud. He loved Harish with all his being, but he'd never touch him, knowing how much abuse Harish had been through.
"I am safe with you," Harish replied. His trust was overwhelming.
Kartik couldn't believe Harish had actually followed him away from the slavery of Master Zahin. It had taken Kartik a few months to discover that not all members of the circus were free. Harish was an orphan – Master Zahin had bought him, and trained him as an acrobat, so he was more a slave than a family member.
Since Kartik always treated him like a younger brother, the scrawny teen had grown very attached to him. They slept very close at night, but Harish stiffened whenever someone touched him with lust. Kartik made sure his desire was always under control when they were close.
"Are you sure?" Kartik stopped to look Harish in the eyes.
The crowd moved around them, not leaving much room for setting up a show. Someone pushed Harish against him and his heart jumped. Harish regained his balance and stared at him again.
"I'm sure," he said with a nod.
Kartik sighed and looked around.
"Let's find a square and see if we can set up a stage."
The street they were on ended in a big square, but it was market day and stalls were everywhere. Merchants screamed their goods and customers crowded the best stalls. Finding a spot to set up a street show seemed impossible.
"Look!" Harish pointed at red balls dancing in the air. A juggler had found a place to perform on the other side of the square.
Kartik grabbed Harish's hand and led him through the crowd. Kartik thought Harish was perfect, including his minor physical imperfection. Harish's right hand had an extra half-finger, in addition to the five normal ones, but the malformation didn't hinder his hand movements. It was just weird to look at and some people were repelled by it.
The corner of the square had a small stage for street performers. The juggler had finished his number and bowed to the cheering audience. Kartik saw a group of other performers waiting on the side of the stage and headed there.
"We would like to go on next, so we can gather a few coins to buy some food," he told the waiting men. "We won't be long. We are hungry."
"What do you do?" one asked, glaring at them.
Since a juggler was already on stage, Kartik didn't hesitate. "I am a knife-thrower. My target boy is an acrobat, but he won't perform until I feed him. Really, we won't be long."
The men grunted and muttered, but when the juggler came off the stage, they signaled Kartik to go on. Harish followed him on the wooden stage and took a prop table, putting it against the wall as target background while Kartik introduced himself and his "aide".
Ignoring the snorts and scoffs – and his empty belly's rumblings – Kartik turned to look at Harish who positioned himself against the improvised board and flashed an encouraging smile at him.
Kartik took a deep breath and opened his travel pack to get the throwing knives. He cleared his mind and focused on the target, framing him with a quick succession of throws. The crowd cheered and threw a few coins.
Kartik recovered the knives and Harish made a headstand against the board, opening his legs so Kartik could plant a V of knives between them. He didn't flinch – not even when the last knife stabbed the wood over his crotch.
Warmer applause and more coins reached the stage as Harish did a somersault to get back on his feet. Kartik smiled at the crowd and bowed deeply. They had enough for a meal; they could step down now and come back for another turn later. He thanked the crowd and picked up the coins while Harish gathered the knives and put them back in the travel pouch.
They bowed and left the stage, thanking their fellow performers for the opportunity. One grumpily pointed them to a tavern in another corner of the square and they thanked him again.
"I'm so hungry!" Harish said as they crossed the square towards the tavern.
"You were so brave," Kartik said.
"I knew your hand wouldn't miss even if you're starving," Harish replied with a grin. "And thank you for sparing my jewels, although Master Zahin would have been happy if you'd emasculated me."
"He's wanted to emasculate you since your voice changed," Kartik said with contempt.
"He'd have done it already if women hadn't started requesting me," Harish said with a shrug.
"Because you put some meat on your bones and turned out to be a strikingly handsome young man," Kartik replied, staring fondly at him,
"If you say so." Harish flashed his sheepish smile, then they entered the tavern and a waft of mixed food smells struck them. Their bellies rumbled in unison as they stopped to adapt to the dark interior. They exchanged a glance at the sound and burst out laughing.
"Can I help you?" A wary innkeeper glared at them.
"Yes! Food for two," Kartik said. "And can you recommend a cheap place where we could rent a room?"
***
Harish woke up at the sounds of the busy town. The room he shared with Kartik opened on Jevina's main square, next to the royal palace, and it was rarely a peaceful place. Only during the wee hours of the night did silence linger.
Harish didn't mind the noise. Sometimes sleeping in a wagon and listening to nature's voice was even worse – like during thunderstorms – and he had grown accustomed to falling asleep whenever or wherever he could.
The room had only the double bed they were lying on, a jug and basin, and a chamberpot, but it was more than what he was used to. He'd washed in rivers or streams all his life, and slept on a blanket with four or five other young men in a much smaller space, so the room felt like a luxury to him.
He rolled over to see if Kartik was awake – of course he was. The elder didn't seem to need as much sleep as he did. Harish blessed the day the raven-haired gypsy had walked into the camp and asked Master Zahin if he needed another performer. Kartik's kindness and independence had become a role-model for him, turning the scrawny teen into a healthy and well-built young man.
"Ready for another day of shows?" Kartik asked.
Harish nodded. Since they didn't own a mirror, they took turns at the basin and then shaved each other before dressing. Harish took the travel bag where they'd put all the props, moving their other possessions to the other pouch, which they would leave in the room, and they left for their daily tour of the stages incorporated in most of Jevina's squares.
To perform on the main square, directly in front of the palace, was an honor they hadn't achieved in the ten days they'd spent in the city. Performers on that stage were invited by the king or a member of his court, and nobody had approached Kartik yet. But their names were spreading through town, since the pair could perform in more than one discipline.
Sometimes they performed with others. Harish walked the tightrope with a group of almond-eyed funambulists or danced with a group of Akkorans, who even had two belly-dancers who covered their faces. Harish had his own version of the belly dance, so they made a nice trio on stage.
Sometimes he was Kartik's target boy, sometimes he danced to his songs, sometimes they juggled together, earning enough money to eat properly and pay the room rent. But there was no need to sell his ass to lustful rich men to survive, which made Harish feel clean and happy for the first time in his life.
At night he nestled against Kartik and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Sometimes he wished he wasn't so tired by his daily physical labor – he would like to explore other things with his savior. Although he wasn't sure Kartik would want his body, since he knew how many people had already used it.
Sometimes Harish wished he could go back in time. In his imagination, instead of Master Zahin, a younger, but already independent, Kartik would show up at the orphanage, look at the sickly boy he was, and take him away on a wondrous adventure.
Harish didn't know when his gratitude had turned to love, but he hoped the new life in Jevina would allow him to open up with Kartik and tell him how he felt. Who knew how wonderful his life would become if he discovered that Kartik loved him as much as he did...
***
Kartik stared at the dignitary in disbelief. He thought the man had knocked on their door to offer a spot on the main stage of Jevina, but the dignitary's request had been for far more than a simple street performance.
"Could you repeat, please?" he asked.
"You are requested to perform in the great hall of the palace, for the king and his family," the plump man said, in the same neutral tone as before.
Kartik heard Harish's gasp of surprise and quickly glanced at him.
"The king has heard of our show?" he insisted.
The dignitary's lips twitched in a repressed smile.
"Even though the king doesn't leave the palace very often, and certainly not to mingle with the crowd of commoners, that doesn't mean he doesn't know what happens in his city," he said. "Yes, he has heard of your prowess as knife-thrower and the grace of your target boy when he performs the Akkoran belly dance. The Akkoran dancers will be by his side for the musical part of the show."
"Oh." Kartik's enthusiasm faded. He'd been in town long enough to have heard the rumors about King Vijay's passion for cute young men. A couple of fellow performers had warned him to keep a low profile – if the king learned of his handsome "aide"...
He sighed, staring at his feet. He couldn't refuse the king's offer, could he?
"Can we skip the dancing part and just do the juggling?" he asked.
The plump man shook his head with a sympathetic look on his face.
"Is there a way out of this?" Kartik insisted, feeling trapped already.
"I'm afraid not," the other answered gravely. "You will go on stage tomorrow at noon. You're not the only show, so you might get lucky. If another young man catches the king's fancy before Harish hits the stage..."
Kartik sighed again and nodded. "Thank you," he muttered. "We'll be there."
The man bowed his head and left. Kartik turned to look at Harish who stood against the wall of their room, quiet as usual. The acrobat always let Kartik do the talk with strangers – and not only because Kartik was older, he suspected. Harish was very shy and introverted, having been a slave for most of is life. An itinerant jester's slave, but still someone's property. And Master Zahin hadn't been very good to that specific property, even though he brought in more money alone than all the others put together.
"Try to underplay everything," Kartik said. "Pretend you're still learning. Make mistakes. Don't let the king notice you."
Harish nodded slowly, serious. He knew very well what it meant if the king noticed him.
The next day Harish wore a stage costume that covered his body more than usual, tried to hide his nimbleness as much as he could, but when the music started, he just gave in to the dance and seemed to forget where he was.
Kartik cursed under his breath. Since he didn't dance, he sat with the musicians, playing with them, and noticed when Harish slipped into his love for dance. Worried, Kartik glanced at the king.
The turbaned ruler of Lakeshi was transfixed. And if one followed his gaze, it wasn't the Akkoran dancers that had spellbound him. It was Harish's movements that enthralled him.
Kartik closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.
***
Harish's smile vanished when he saw Kartik's frown. He was still catching his breath after the dance, but had rushed to Kartik expecting the usual smile of approval.
Then he realized where he was – the marble and sculptures and silks and damasks surrounding him – and gasped.
"I'm sorry!" he apologized. "You think the king noticed me?"
"Definitely," Kartik answered through clenched teeth, glaring at him.
Harish blushed under the scolding stare and averted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling miserable.
"Let's go."
Kartik grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the crowded great hall. But before they reached the palace door, the guards stopped them and the dignitary joined them with his hands folded on his prominent belly, much like when he'd showed up at their door.
"The king wishes you to join the palace entertainers," he said. "A servant has been sent to gather your things and pay off your room. If you follow me, I shall show you your new quarters."
Harish heard Kartik curse under his breath, but they both followed the plump man, escorted by the guards.
Through stately corridors they reached a wing of the palace that was less decorated than the great hall.
"The entertainers' quarters," the dignitary said. "Make yourselves at home."
Kartik and Harish entered the big room – a dormitory barely divided by curtains. Men of all ages chattered on the cots, mostly ignoring the newcomers. A servant waved at them from the other side of the long rectangular room and pointed at two beds where their travel bags were already waiting. As soon as they reached him, he bowed and left.
"We had more privacy in our room," Harish muttered, glancing nervously around him.
"Do you really think you will sleep here?" Kartik asked bluntly, avoiding eye contact.
Harish moaned in frustration and slumped down onto one of the cots. What was he going to do? His freedom has lasted but a fortnight. He wanted to beat himself unconscious. How could Kartik save him from the king's lust? He can't. And it's all my fault. Kartik will leave me here, and I will die of shame.
He hid his face in his hands. He was so sick of it all...
The bed gave under Kartik's weight as he sat next to him and pulled Harish closer.
"I'm sorry, Harish," Kartik whispered. "I didn't want this to happen ever again. I will find a way out of this golden cage, though, I promise."
Harish hugged him and gulped down his tears. Kartik caressed his hair.
"Be strong," he continued. "Tomorrow, I'll take us out of here."
Harish sniffed and pulled away to look at Kartik's face. Of course, Kartik needed time to plan their escape. He'd never been in a palace before – neither of them had.
Harish slowly nodded. "I'll do the king's bidding," he said with a shaky voice. "But then take me away from here."
"I will," Kartik promised, determined. "Nobody will touch you against your will ever again."
Harish's lips trembled into a smile. You can touch me anytime... he thought wistfully.
But his voice didn't come out.
***
Before the lights went out in the entertainers' dormitory, a servant came to summon Harish. The young man gave Kartik a dismayed glance, then followed the servant.
Kartik lay sleepless on his cot while he tried to think of a way out from the palace – and tried not to think of Harish in the king's arms. He didn't think Harish could last until the king's lust subsided.
To get out of the palace they'd need their abilities – climbing walls, mostly, or trees. They could escape from the walled palace gardens first thing in the morning and be out of town before lunchtime. Then they would head for the jungle and stay put for a while.
Kartik thought they could build a hut and live of hunting, away from people. If he could throw knives, he could learn archery, or they could learn to catch fish. Maybe they could find a small village and settle there – not as jesters, but as hunters.
Eventually he dozed off, but by the time the sun came up, he hadn't slept much. Harish came back with the first light and instead of lying on the next bed, he came to nestle against him, even though that didn't leave them any room to move.
Kartik held him tight and felt him sigh.
"Are you all right?" he whispered in the still-quiet dormitory. Everyone else was still asleep.
Harish nodded.
"Do you need to sleep for a while?" he insisted, knowing Harish made him look like an insomniac.
"I'm fine." Harish squeezed him. "You want to go now?"
"It's probably better to go before the palace awakes."
Harish pulled back to look him in the eyes.
"The guards are already awake. I saw them coming back here."
"I know, but we're not going out the main door," Kartik replied with a quick smile.
Harish's eyes widened. "We're not?"
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