When Duga got home, he saw that Menefy, the servant who did everything for him, had left out a simple meal: bread, spiced beans and cheese. A carafe of Solon Valley wine stood just to the left of the plate with a mug at the ready. Duga poured himself a good measure of wine and knocked it back all at once.
“Good evening, sir,” said Menefy, coming into the kitchen from the pantry.
“Menefy. Any news?” Duga tore off a hunk of bread and used it to scoop up some of the beans. He shoved the whole thing into his mouth and chewed.
“It’s all about the jubilee this week. No one can think or talk of anything else, sir,” Menefy said, sounding exasperated.
“Well,” Duga said, pouring himself more wine, “the Matriarch’s jubilee celebration takes precedence over everything else. Only an act of war could change that.” Or an assassination, he thought. A quiet rumor, barely a whisper, suggested an assassination plot was underway. He had to find out for sure.
Menefy was a good spy, but even he hadn’t found out that much over the past few days. Today he had found no information of value. Tertiana, Duga’s now former wife, had chosen Menefy to be Duga’s valet. They had had two other servants, but with Tertiana and the children gone, there had been no need for anyone other than Menefy. Duga found him amusing, with his liking for household gossip. It was because of Menefy that Duga knew much more than the prince or Matriarch could hope to know about their own household even with their own cadre of spies.
“Once the visitors for the jubilee arrive, I’ll have more news for you, sir.”
“Thanks, Menefy.”
After quickly changing into something more suitable, Duga was on his way to the palace and the crown prince’s rooms. Though the hour was late, he had no trouble getting in to see the prince, who poured him a glass of sparkling water. The prince’s sitting room was sparsely furnished but tastefully decorated.
“You’ve got your serious look, which means you want to get straight to business,” Baboye said.
Although they hadn’t been lovers for several years now, Duga could still tell when Baboye was in heat. His dark gold eyes—a Thasali family trait— took on a glittering sheen and he grew impatient with anything or anyone who would delay his desire for sexual satisfaction. He was topless, revealing a firm, chiseled chest but wore loose-fitting pants and sat with his legs wide apart. Duga could still conjure up a vivid image of Baboye’s cock as if he had vision that could see through Baboye’s pants to the growing bulge he knew was there.
“It could be very serious, sir.”
Baboye sighed. “Please, Duga. No need to be so formal.”
Duga nodded and took a seat next to the prince. “I’m here about a rumor, a rumor of your assassination.”
“I’ve lost count of all the rumors of my imminent demise at the hand of a paid wraith or some such.” The prince shrugged. “Do you know, when I was but a babe in the cradle, one of my mother’s ministers conceived a convoluted plot to snuff me out? It involved snakes, I think.”
“Well, this rumored plot is more practical. The rumor is that the assassination will take place before the end of this week, and that the assassin is one of the harem boys.” Duga could see that that last bit got the prince’s attention. “No snakes were mentioned, in case you were wondering.”
Assassination plots against Baboye were common because he was the oldest of the Matriarch’s children and next in line for the throne. Occasional rabble rousers plotted from faraway districts, hoping that Baboye’s death would give them control over a local, valuable resource like a crystal mine or a fish farm. It wouldn’t. The Matriarch had other children who would step into the breach and maintain ironclad control of the family property.
There were also less powerful royal families elsewhere on Oranto who thought that murdering Baboye would send Thasali into chaos and allow other royals to grab a little more power, some land or other resource. There were Thasali cousins looking to move up the ranks, although the Matriarch was pretty good at throwing them an occasional bone and keeping them in line. Some people just wanted revenge against Thasali for some long ago wrong and thought murdering Baboye would make everything right.
Fortunately, the prince’s four younger brothers weren’t interested in Baboye’s death. They had their own fiefdoms to take care of, and being second, third or fourth in line for the crown was less hassle than being next.
An assassination attempt from within a royal harem was unthinkable. The harems maintained and nurtured by each of Oranto’s royal families for years were sacrosanct and filled only with the most beautiful, trustworthy young men and women from each district. Also, once they entered the harem, they had very little contact with the outside world except when they entertained visitors to the royal family. Those visitors were rigorously screened.
Baboye finished his drink, got up and poured himself something a bit stronger. He sauntered around the room.
“A harem boy as the assassin? How would that work? How did they let an assassin in?” The prince sat down again.
“I don’t know. We have to find out,” Duga said. Although the prince kept his face a neutral mask, Duga could tell that the thought of the boys harem possibly being infiltrated distressed him greatly. He waited for the prince to respond.
“It just sounds so impossible, but I need you in the harem. You have to find out what’s going on. See if you can uncover the assassin and the plotters,” Baboye said.
“You need me in the harem? I haven’t set foot in the harem since—”
“Since I appointed you to the jundii. Yes. I know,” said Baboye.
The prince went quiet again.
“This is what you’ll do,” said Baboye. “You’ll be a teacher, the sex trainer. I’ll make the arrangements for you to be put in place. They won’t know you since you haven’t been to the harem in twenty years or so, although you’ll have to get rid of this.”
Baboye stroked the tattoo on Duga’s left wrist. Even after all these years, Duga treasured it. His first night as a full harem member, Baboye had called Duga to his chambers and touched his fresh tattoo. They spent that night together.
Duga let out a little sigh.
“I know,” said Baboye. “I’ll tell Mother about the plan today.”
Duga nodded. “You weren’t thinking of visiting the harem tonight, were you?”
“I think I can chance it just this once. How serious can this threat be?”
“Sir, I must advise you not to go. At least wait until I’m in place there. This threat is serious.”
The prince turned his dazzling smile on Duga. “All right. There’s a boy there whom I fancy. Maybe I can get them to send him here, just for an hour or so.”
Duga shook his head. Baboye really was in heat. “Again, sir, I’d advise you against having any contact with the harem, at least not until I’m in place.”
“This boy I told you about. I want to make him my consort. I wanted to do it during the jubilee.”
“Oh. I see.” Duga blinked. Elevating a harem boy to consort wasn’t something any of the royal families did lightly. A consort was still part of the harem but could no longer be requested by just anybody. The royal family member who had designated the harem boy a consort had priority, and each family had a special ceremony for just such an occasion. The royal families considered it particularly auspicious to elevate a harem member during a jubilee.
“That may not be possible, Baboye,” Duga said, gently. “The timing is—”
“Not good. Yes, I see that now. All the more reason for you to act as quickly as possible once you’re in place in the harem. That should be by tomorrow evening at the latest.” The prince looked slyly at Duga. “Why don’t you keep me company tonight? It’s been a long time since we’ve come together.”
Duga stood and shook his head. He wasn’t a harem boy anymore. Even as a harem boy, he always had the right to say “no,” but rarely did. He was focused on serving the royal family’s sexual needs. That was no longer the
case. Now, he was focused on Baboye’s safety.
“I’m afraid, sir, that you must entertain yourself tonight…after you’ve reported all this to the Matriarch, of course.” For a moment, Duga saw the petulant adolescent that Baboye once was.
Finally, the prince sighed. “All right, Duga. We will meet at first light tomorrow in my office. This boy I mentioned. I haven’t felt so much, so strongly about anyone in years. Not since you. Good night, old friend. I bid you good fortune.”
Duga gave him a slight bow and left. He couldn’t help smiling as he made his way back to his house. Even now it was good to hear that he once held a special place in the prince’s heart. This time, he didn’t even bother to try to shake the Matriarch’s spy, who was still following him.
That glow turned to puzzlement upon his arrival back home. Someone had stuffed a note under the front door. It was unsealed, unsigned and on middling quality paper. He went to his office and examined it under the desk lantern. He could see no watermark or anything else that might indicate its origins. Finally, he sat down to read it.
Do not be alarmed, it started. You have served the Thasali household well for many years. The Matriarch and the crown prince do not know your true value. We do. We know you chafe under the Thasali yoke. Many of us have been chafing under that yoke for generations. The time has come to throw off the Thasali yoke. We can be of great use to each other. The time has come for you to join us.
Duga read the note several times before thrusting it directly under the lantern again. He knew he wouldn’t find anything that hadn’t been there the first time he examined it, but he was irritated. Who is this “we”? He glanced around his office, wondering who was watching him now. He got up, went over to the fireplace and lit the fire. He tossed the note into the fireplace and used the poker to make sure it was thoroughly incinerated.
He had never spoken of the doubts that were seeping into his thoughts regarding his place in the Thasali household. For a boy from the Mudflats district who hadn’t even sat in a chair until he tried out for the harem, he had achieved great things. He had become the prince’s consort and then jundum. There was talk of him becoming chief of staff.
Lately, however, he had a nagging feeling that all he had achieved was at someone else’s pleasure, that he was still just someone’s servant. He wished Tertiana still lived with him. He could always talk to her. She had left about a year ago. Their separation had been amicable. She had told him that she felt she had fulfilled her duties as a wife and mother and wanted to go live with the woman who had been her lover before she and Duga married. Duga wasn’t surprised, but he missed her. He envied her. Their children were nearly grown and were pursuing their educations in Arthon, a distant city. He and Tertiana had wanted them to live without the constraint of being bonded to the Thasali household, although it was the money he earned from Thasali that paid their education expenses. As he lay in bed that night, he realized he was actually looking forward to starting the investigation into the rumored assassination plot. It would take his mind off his doubts and his loneliness.
Chapter Two
Duga dreamt of having a threesome at Shebi’s brothel with Apamar, he of the talented hands, and Jamas, he of the lovely mouth. Although Duga normally liked topping, in this dream, he lay on his back while Jamas stuffed his cock into his ass and Apamar fucked his face. The boys held his arms down so Duga could not stroke his cock as they fucked him. It was delicious torture. When he woke before coming in the dream, he stroked his cock, reliving the moment when Apamar and Jamas came. His jizz shot onto the linen. He lay back for a few moments, breathing heavily. Then he remembered his appointment with the prince and the task the prince had given him. He bathed and dressed in the clothes Menefy had laid out for him.
As he headed out into the morning’s semi-darkness, he could see men and women already hard at work getting the grounds ready for the Matriarch’s jubilee. It was hard to believe it had been twenty-five years. He walked briskly to the palace and started heading in the direction of the prince’s offices, but a guard intercepted him.
“Your meeting with the prince has been moved to the Matriarch’s wing,” said the guard.
Duga headed in the opposite direction. On his way, he encountered Baboye’s younger brother, Vidnar. Duga bowed to him. Vidnar smirked.
“Where are you headed, harem boy?”
Vidnar’s tone was meant to put Duga down. It meant to imply that he didn’t belong anywhere else. His tone rankled Duga, especially knowing that he was heading back into the harem.
Vidnar stood with his arms akimbo and blocked Duga’s path.
“Come on, harem boy, suck my cock for old times’ sake.” Vidnar’s hands moved to his trousers.
Duga knew that Vidnar was rough with the harem boys he fucked, and he wanted nothing to do with him. But he couldn’t be rude to a prince, even to the younger of the Matriarch’s brood.
He took a deep breath. “Oh, Prince Vidnar, some other time. Your brother Baboye and, most importantly, your mother, are waiting for me,” said Duga as he bowed deeply.
That did the trick. Making Duga late for Baboye was one thing, but Vidnar’s mother was not to be made to wait, even by one of her younger sons.
Vidnar stepped aside, but pinched Duga’s ass as he passed. Oh, there will be payback for that someday, thought Duga as he walked away and didn’t look back.
The reception area in the Matriarch’s wing was lively with activity related to the day-to-day operations of the royal family and lands. The impending jubilee made it even busier. The Matriarch made do with three or four hours of sleep a night, and her staff was expected to do the same. The young receptionist looked at Duga through half-closed, sleepy eyes. Duga rapped his knuckles lightly on the desk.
“Oh! Adviser Rigers. I’m sorry,” she said.
Duga smiled. “Adven, it’s all right. At least your journey to work each morning is considerably shorter now that you’ve moved into the palace. How are your new quarters?”
Adven pulled a sour face momentarily. “They’re pleasant enough. I wish—”
Adven didn’t get the chance to finish what she was saying, for at that moment, the door to the Matriarch’s office opened. The Matriarch’s private secretary, an efficient middle-aged woman who supposedly was the only person ever to thaw the Matriarch’s heart, stepped out. Her face brightened when she saw Duga.
“Adviser Rigers. Madame and the crown prince are waiting. Please enter.”
Duga nodded to Adven. The secretary ushered him in and then left.
The Matriarch’s office was spare, like Baboye’s sitting room, but whereas the spareness of her son’s room seemed to stem from a lack of care, the spareness of her office seemed more calculated. She sat behind a mammoth desk made of hard omple tree wood and covered with dark brown sallabeast leather. It smelled salty and sweet. Prince Baboye sat on a window ledge, staring at the courtyard below. When the Matriarch nodded, Duga took a seat in front of her desk.
The Matriarch always liked towering over those who came to see her. Duga’s seat was low to the ground but soft. Hers gave her an extra foot of height. With her hair piled on her head in a mass of curls, she loomed over all of her visitors.
“Rigers. Thank you for coming. The prince has apprised me of this rumored assassination plot. You believe this to be something that needs investigation?”
“Yes, madame. It’s the detail about the assassin being in the harem that makes me think there could be something to it.” He looked over at the prince, who had put on his neutral mask again. Duga wondered if he had satisfied his sexual needs last night, and, if so, how.
“The prince has also told me of the plan to have you go undercover in the harem. He has already made it possible for you to start as the new sex trainer this afternoon. I hope you’re successful. I’m going to give you an incentive, Rigers.”
Duga noticed the prince glance briefly at his mother, but his face still betrayed no emotion.
“Incen
tive, madame?”
She nodded. “My jubilee celebration banquet is in six days’ time. You will bring your investigation to a successful conclusion in five days’ time, or all the boys in the harem will be executed.”
“Madame?” Duga could not believe what he was hearing. No royal family, as far as he knew, had ever contemplated executing its harem members. Harem boys and girls served the royal family, and the royal family protected them.
“Success will mean unmasking the plotters, including the assassin, or concluding that there is no threat.”
Duga looked over at the prince, who was looking out the window again.
“Don’t worry. We can find more of them where we found you, Rigers,” she said. “Thank you. I bid you good fortune.”
That was his cue to leave. He knew there would be no further conversation. He couldn’t imagine that the prince agreed with his mother. After all, the prince wanted to make one of the boys his consort. The boy’s life would be forfeit if Duga failed, and if the Matriarch meant to carry out her threat. Duga stood up, bowed and walked swiftly from the office. He picked up the pace once he was in the reception area. He felt blood rushing to his head. All those boys! It’s monstrous! He broke into a jog to get as far away from the Matriarch as he could. He slowed down only when he heard Prince Baboye calling his name.
“Duga! Wait!”
Finally, Duga stopped. He was breathing heavily. He felt Baboye grip his arm and tug him into a dimly lit corner.
“In here,” the prince whispered as he pushed open a door and pulled Duga after him into a small room. It wasn’t empty. Two women were there decorating it for the jubilee. “Out!” the prince barked. The women bowed and skittered out quickly. The prince slammed the door.
Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set Page 4