Rouden cringed as he left. Felkar was loyal to the Tansharian cause and could make a decent ale, but he could be a bully. It surprised him that he found himself concerned for Amyar’s safety. He knew that the longer the rebels kept Amyar, the more likely it would be that he’d come to real harm. He wondered how he could protect him.
Chapter Eight
Plans for the Prince
Rouden easily found Wyke and Alban, who were squatting on the ground in the fire circle near the house. The fire was low with soft purple embers. The air smelled of Elodie tree oil. Rouden squatted beside them and watched the fire as it danced and undulated. The woods were dark even on the brightest mid-year days, but now that the suns had set the darkness was thick and inky.
“You’ve been talking to our guest,” Wyke said. “Did he say anything that can be useful to us?”
Rouden thought back over what Amyar had said. “Not really. Not much.”
“Did you try to get him to talk?” Alban sounded agitated, as if his anger would bubble over at the slightest provocation.
“I did talk to him, but he was either too tired or too angry to tell me anything of use. All he told me was that his mother didn’t want him to come here.”
Rouden knew what Alban meant by trying to get Amyar to talk. Alban had a reputation among the rebels for being willing to use torture to get what he wanted. That reputation started during his days in the local Thasali-backed guard regiment that kept order in Tanshar. Royal families liked hiring locals in the provinces to administer and enforce royal policy. Alban claimed he had left the guard division when he could no longer stomach carrying out Thasali orders against his own people. Rumors speculated that his ways were too brutal even for Thasali.
“I gave him some food and drink,” Rouden continued. “Perhaps after he has eaten he’d be willing to tell me something that could help us.”
“I know of far more effective ways of softening up a prisoner than plying him with food and drink,” Alban said darkly. He picked up a twig from the ground and snapped it in two.
Wyke put up a hand and waved Alban aside. “We’ll send our demands and wait for an answer. If the answer isn’t to our liking, well, it won’t matter whether the prince eats or not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rouden asked.
“He’s one of the useless younger sons, probably doesn’t have any meaningful information, but we’re betting that the Matriarch won’t like anyone messing with her family. We will use him to get what we want.” Alban picked up another twig. This one he crushed in his hand. He opened his fingers and let the tiny pieces fall to the ground.
“That’s madness!” said Rouden. “Having the prince doesn’t give us the upper hand. He’s too irrelevant. He’s a bargaining chip, but not much of one. And hurting him is a mistake. We have much more to lose than Thasali, and Thasali have much more on their side to make us lose what we do have, our water.”
Alban laughed nastily. “You learned this as a dancing boy in the harem, did you?”
Rouden ignored this jab at his time in the harem and addressed Wyke. “I didn’t join up with you to do stupid stuff like this. Thasali are probably getting ready to invade while laughing at whatever feeble demand you’ve sent them!”
Wyke stood up. He was older than Rouden by about twenty years and was a powerful and physically intimidating man. “I know what Thasali are capable of, just as I know what we can and cannot afford to lose. Thasali won’t invade. They know it’s a losing bet. We will lose a lot if they do invade, but they actually have a lot more to lose than we do. You have much to learn, Rouden.”
“Then tell me what you know. I want to understand.” Rouden had never been angry at Wyke before and didn’t like the anger boiling up inside him against this man whom he had respected so much. He just knew that hurting the prince was wrong strategically and, more importantly, morally.
“I will. I will but be patient for now. Go see if you can get the prince to talk to you. See if he knows the strength of Thasali military. Sound him out for any information he has about possible Thasali military action in Tanshar. Do this for me. I’m counting on you. I know you can do this,” Wyke said.
Rouden was grateful to Wyke for taking him under his wing and tutoring him about politics and history. Rouden had met Wyke sitting on Horsharan beach a few days after he had returned from the harem. He’d closed the door on that part of his life but wasn’t sure what to do next. He had money, payment for his service. He had skills that either weren’t that useful outside the harem or that he didn’t want to use anymore.
It was Wyke who’d filled in some of the gaps of his knowledge about Tanshar’s history and led to Rouden committing to the cause of independence. He’d trusted Wyke. Now he was torn, and it was all because of the handsome prince who’d turned his head. If he didn’t get control of his feelings, he’d end up being a weak link the independence movement and the accusations that he was a Thasali mole would come roaring back. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.
*~*~*
On his way back down to the safe house basement, Rouden encountered Ankran, Jonas, and Hynryck, starting to bunk down for the night. The dinner tables had been put away. They were unrolling their sleep sacks on the cots that had been pulled out.
It suddenly hit Rouden how tired he was. His body felt heavy. He would have loved to just collapse onto one of the cots and hang out with his friends, but Wyke was counting on him.
And he wanted to see Amyar again.
“Where ya headed?” Ankran asked through heavy-lidded eyes.
“To the basement. I’m going to the prince, try to get him to talk more,” Rouden said.
“That’s pointless,” said Jonas as he rolled over and tried to get more comfortable.
“What do you mean?”
“What he means,” said Hynryck, “is that it’s pointless to interrogate the prisoner because his life is already forfeit. He’s basically already dead.”
The reality of the situation sunk in for Rouden. The prince had value while he was breathing, when he could be used as a bargaining tool. Once that usefulness no longer existed, he would be killed. They couldn’t take the chance that he would reveal information about them that would lead to harm.
“You mean after we’ve received an answer to our ransom demands his life will be forfeit,” said Rouden.
“No matter what answer we get, the prince will not survive,” said Hynryk as if he were speaking to a slow-witted child.
Rouden had been so enthusiastic about independence and the people he fought with. They were his brothers. They were his fathers, but a crack appeared. He knew many lives had been lost on both sides in the fight for independence. He didn’t understand why the prince had to die, too.
“That doesn’t make sense. Who told you this? Weren’t our demands made in good faith?” Rouden asked.
Ankran laughed to cover a yawn. “Good faith? We can’t afford good faith with our enemies. It’s more important to show strength, to show what we’re willing to do to win our independence. Besides, he’s just Thasali scum. You spent time at their palace. You should know that better than any of us.”
“Are you sure your time at the palace didn’t addle you, Rouden?” Hynryck eyed him skeptically.
Rouden ignored Hynryck’s question. He looked at his wrist. The tattoo started to feel like an unhealed burn. “Then why keep him alive at all?” His thoughts raced. His wrist started to feel hotter.
“We need a little theater. We send ransom demands. They pretend to send us serious answers. We pretend to take their answers seriously,” Jonas said. “Then we all go in for the kill. May the best men win.”
Rouden was stunned. Intellectually, he knew the fight for independence would be brutal, but he was stunned at how obvious the brutality could be. He believed in independence for Tanshar, but he found himself less trusting of Wyke and the methods of his compatriots.
He wanted the prince to live.
> Chapter Nine
Interrogation
This was not how my adventure was supposed to be, thought Amyar as he tugged on the chain attached to his wrist. The metal was cold against his skin. The room was damp and dark, and the bolts that attached his chains to the wall seemed immovable. The fabric on the cot was itchy, but he could not reach to scratch. His face felt swollen. He couldn’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth.
What surprised him most, however, was that he didn’t miss the palace that much. He just felt angry that the negotiations that were his debut in political affairs were nothing more than theater. The rebels had no intention of seriously negotiating. General Eppon wasn’t interested in peace, and he didn’t even have Thassli interests at heart. Well, he had one Thasali’s interest at heart—Amyar’s distant cousin. He wanted to take the water and depose the Matriarch. He wondered what all those troops were doing now.
He tugged on the chain that bound his ankle. The chain’s links dug into his skin. The chains were tight on his right wrist and ankle but there was enough slack between him and the wall that he was able to sit up. They had brought him bread, beans, and ale. He thought about trying to escape.
Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?
He didn’t know where to start, but he knew he was hungry. He didn’t know whether it was time for dinner, breakfast, lunch, or a snack. He just knew it was time to eat. The beans were grey and black and lost in a thin brown liquid. They had given him neither spoon nor fork, so he used the bread as a scoop. He actually quite liked the ale, but it was hard to enjoy it. He heard the rattle of the chain every time he lifted his arm.
When he was no longer hungry, he lay back down and tried to sleep. He only managed to doze a little. The cot was uncomfortable. The food sat in his stomach like a heavy rock. The ale was making him belch, and his thoughts raced from one horrible possibility to the next.
As he lay there giving up on sleep, a tiny light broke through his tangled thoughts. He saw the rebel, the harem boy, who wouldn’t reveal his name. Amyar had never had a harem boy tell him no before. It made the man with no name even more attractive.
Amyar had never had a steady relationship with either a man or woman. He’d had sex with a many harem boys and one harem girl, until he slowed down because it was too easy. He preferred the boys. No one particularly cared who he slept with, who he took as his consort, or whether he took anyone as his consort at all. He hadn’t much cared either, until he’d seen the handsome rebel across the table. Now, he had thoughts about him that ignited something Amyar hadn’t felt for anyone before.
He lay on his side facing the wall he was chained to and ran his free hand over the front of his pants. He steadied his breathing, concentrating on his fingertips rubbing against the fabric of his trousers. His cock hardened. He didn’t dare take it out. He had no idea when someone would open the door to his little room. He had no idea when he’d be free. He had no idea when he’d see the rebel with no name again. He rubbed faster, harder.
He gasped when he heard the door open behind him.
“What’s going on?”
The man with no name had returned. Amyar moved his hand slowly away from his crotch then carefully turned on his other side so he was facing the door. The man was briefly silhouetted against the light spilling in from outside the room. His muscles were lean. Though he couldn’t make out any facial features, he could see that the man’s long hair was pulled away from his face. Then the door closed, and they were in darkness once more.
“I think I was having a bad dream,” Amyar said. He hoped the darkness hid the outline of his erection that was pushing against his pants.
The man set a small lamp down on the table next to the cot and turned the light on.
“You should eat more,” he said, pointing to the beans and bread that were left on the plate. His fingers were long. If he had been born in different circumstances, he would have been delicate, without any of the tough patina required to live in a place like Tanshar.
Amyar shook his head. “I tried. I’m not hungry.”
“Was it so bad?”
“The ale is promising,” Amyar replied as he sat up. His erection was slowly going down.
The man pulled a stool from a shadow in the corner of the room and sat close to the cot. So close that Amyar’s knees were almost touching his. The man seemed to be appraising him. Amyar willed himself to sit up straight, to broaden his shoulders, to look as intimidating as a chained man could.
“I am Rouden Vasser,” the man finally said. “I know you are Amyar, the seventh son of the Exalted Matriarch Thasali of Resedna and Her Imperial Possessions. I know that as a seventh son your prospects for gaining any kind of real power within the royal household are virtually nonexistent. I know that you have spent little time outside the walls of the palace.”
Amyar was pleased that he now knew the rebel’s name. He was less pleased with Rouden’s recitation of what he thought Amyar’s life had been so far, and the fact that Rouden was right.
“Is this why you’re here? To repeat my biography to me? Your masters probably gave you instructions to get information from me.” When Rouden didn’t reply, Amyar continued. “I can tell you right now that I know very little. As you said, I’m the seventh son. I’m not important enough to be told anything of use.”
“You may know more than you realize,” Rouden said. “What were your first impressions of General Eppon when you met him? You met him quite recently, so your impressions of him should still be fresh in your mind.”
Amyar decided not to tell Rouden that he’d known Eppon for years, that he’d been Amyar’s tutor, that Eppon was going to take Tanshar’s water. Amyar didn’t know who to trust, but he was pretty sure a former harem boy turned rebel interrogator should probably not be trusted. He decided to stall. “How about this? How about for every question I answer, I can ask you a question.”
Rouden scratched his head and appeared to be thinking through Amyar’s proposal, although it didn’t seem like Rouden’s heart was ready to do battle. He didn’t have the eager glint in his eye that Amyar had seen in General Eppon before negotiations began. Sitting in front of him Amyar saw a beautiful and passionate man who seemed uneasy with the task he’d been sent to do.
“For every question asked, an answer. Agreed. You owe me an answer,” Rouden said, smiling.
Amyar almost smiled in return, Rouden’s smile was so appealing. “My first impressions of General Eppon? Well, he loves being a general, loves the military. I would say that he might even love Thasali.” Without thinking about it, Amyar reached over, picked up the bottle of ale and drank. The bitter, dark brown liquid slid down his throat. He put the bottle down, and the chain rattled once more.
Rouden said, “You sound like you doubt his loyalty.”
Amyar did, but he didn’t trust Rouden. Despite his beautiful eyes and the harem boy tattoo, he was still one of Amyar’s captors, and Rouden had left the harem and its requirements behind.
The prince shook his head and took another gulp of ale. “One question. One answer. My question for you. Earlier today, you were very agitated when Captain Timendum challenged you about your time in our harem. Were you agitated because of bad memories of your time in the harem or because of Timendum specifically?”
“Yes.” Rouden seemed relaxed and confident.
“That’s not much of an answer.”
Rouden laughed. The laugh felt like a punch to Amyar’s gut. Harem boys were trained never to laugh at royals and didn’t even laugh that often in their presence. Amyar was finding Rouden more attractive all the time.
“Then ask a question that will get more than a yes or a no,” Rouden said. “But now it’s my turn.”
A hunger hit Amyar. What was left of the bread and beans was less appetizing by the moment. One of his tutors had told him many years ago that hunger could make any food taste good. He broke off a hunk of bread and dipped it into the now cold bowl of beans. He chewed methodically.
It did not taste good, but he needed the sustenance. He drained the bottle of ale and wished that he was drunk and all of this would go away, the chains, the uncomfortable cot, the damp basement. He wanted it all to go away, except for Rouden. Amyar wanted Rouden to stay.
“Why do you doubt General Eppon?”
He still didn’t want to tell him the whole truth.
“General Eppon has been in our military all his adult life. He serves at the pleasure of the Matriarch. He may chafe at whatever strictures she may put on him. She’s never been in the military. I get the sense that he doesn’t respect people without military experience.”
“Tell me more.” Rouden leaned in, his voice gentle. Their faces were only about half a foot from each other. Rouden’s lips were so red. His hair smelled of Elodie leaves.
Amyar thought a bit about what would be enough to say, but then he realized it was his turn. “What did Timendum do to you? It seemed like you knew him.”
The lamp light did strange things to Rouden’s face as he seemed to struggle to answer Amyar’s question. The light seemed to etch planes into Rouden’s face, accentuating the anger Amyar sensed. Rouden took a deep breath.
“I didn’t know his name until the negotiations. I hadn’t seen him since I left the harem. I was chosen to attend a fancy party. I don’t even remember why the party was thrown. I think there may have been some government meeting at the palace. No matter. I remember feeling honored. Timendum chose me as his plaything for the night. He liked it rough, very rough. I was shocked at his aggression.”
Rouden stopped talking. Amyar didn’t interrupt. He knew there was more. He wondered if Rouden had ever told anyone about this.
“I fought back. I fought back hard,” Rouden said and smiled ruefully. “That was not allowed. Harem boys and girls aren’t supposed to fight back. They’re just supposed to lie back and take it. I had a choice. Either submit to Timendum, and if he didn’t kill me in the process I could stay or leave the harem. I chose to leave. I can never return to Resedna. Your question has been answered.”
Tales of the Thasali Harem Box Set Page 23