by Astor, Jade
Oraj’s face took on a pained expression. This, too, surprised and unnerved Charis. “I have served this brothel for many years, you know. In fact, I was even in your place at one time. I was the favorite of not just one, but many a royal prince, and a few high-ranking ministers besides. Some were very handsome.”
He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Charis nodded. “I am sure that is true.”
“Throughout my time in the harem, no matter what anyone said to me or promised me, I took care to guard my heart. That is as essential a skill here as offering your backside or sucking cock. You must always keep your wits about you, Charis. It is easy to get carried away on the wings of desire and other mind-muddying feelings. What men say when they are on their backs is not necessarily what they will say when they are on their feet before the matriarch.”
When he realized what Oraj was getting at, Charis tried to prevent the twin bursts of heat from exploding in his cheeks, but he failed. “The prince would never lie to me,” he insisted, knowing he was overstepping his bounds but not caring. “He would never hurt me, either.”
“What you might interpret as ‘hurt’ he might characterize as duty or even necessity. Anyhow, I am not attempting to predict Prince Vidnar’s actions. What I am suggesting is that you keep your eyes open and hold yourself above petty intrigues and foolish words spurred by emotion. If you can, you will have a fine and long future here.”
Charis set his jaw stubbornly—much the way Vidnar did when he complained about his mother’s demands. “My future is with the prince.”
“You may think as you wish. All I ask is that you consider my words. One day, perhaps their meaning will become clear to you, and my cautions will make sense.”
Letting his arms drop to his side, Oraj turned and walked on. Charis watched him go, seething with a rage he dared not express. No one understood his love for the prince, nor the prince’s devotion to him. The prince was not a liar. He was not fickle. He would give his heart once. He had given it to Charis. Had he not said so again and again? How dare Oraj question his own masters with such blatant disrespect?
Charis had heard many stories of harem members rising in the ranks to become part of the royal family’s inner circle. Duga Rigers was one such legendary figure. He had become Crown Prince Baboye’s consort and then favorite adviser. Now, he had a noble title and land. Many times Charis had seen him walking along the street in his fine clothes, reveling in his position at court. Duga had done well by becoming the favorite of a royal—no less than Prince Baboye himself. Why could Charis not do the same thing? He was every bit as clever as Duga and probably much more skilled in the bedchamber. Wasn’t that what really mattered?
*~*~*
The prince did not return to the harem that night, and Charis slept in his own small room for the first time in a long while. The next morning, though, a message arrived for him. A palace servant brought it to him right after breakfast, handing Charis a beautiful scroll with long gold handles. The writing inside was equally beautiful.
Meet me in the center of the marketplace at midmorning, the message read. Come alone. I am eager to see you and to speak to you about an urgent matter. -V.
“Don’t go,” Defri said when Charis showed the scroll to him. “I have heard that the market is not a safe place for any of us. Why would the prince ask you to go there unattended? Why would he not simply come here?”
“Perhaps he wishes to purchase something for me and does not want anyone else in the palace to know about it.” Charis found Defri’s skepticism annoying, even if it did make sense in a way. It was true that the marketplace was considered a bit of a rough area, rife with thieves and drunken people from the lower classes of society who came to watch the public shows featuring puppets, jugglers, and dancers. Harem members were discouraged from going there, though they were not actually forbidden. Yet Charis felt that he was more than capable of looking after himself, and surely the prince would have his own guards attending him. Perhaps they would all be in disguise. Surely that was it—the prince wished to treat him to an exciting afternoon away from the prying attentions of his mother, brothers, and harem officials like Oraj.
“I would still urge caution,” Defri said.
“Don’t worry. The prince knows what he is doing, and he will make sure I am not harmed. No doubt I will be back well before anyone notices I have even gone. Promise me you will not interfere.”
Defri looked uncertain, but eventually he nodded. Eagerly Charis returned to his room and donned the rich outfit Lash had made for him, including the red cloak. No one in the marketplace would know he was a harem boy. They might even think, like the old man at the banquet, that he was a royal guest himself. Charis liked that, and better yet, perhaps one day it would really be true for him as it was for Duga, who could go where he pleased while wearing fine clothing of his own.
He slipped out and walked briskly down the paved road that led to the marketplace. It was still early enough that no one noticed him leaving, much less asked where he was going. He enjoyed feeling the cloak snap and flap around him in the breeze. For a few moments he imagined what it might be like to actually be a prince or a man of freedom and means. He liked it very much.
Excitement overwhelmed him the moment he got to the marketplace. Not only was he excited to see Vidnar and perhaps receive some interesting gifts, but the marketplace itself presented an amazing array of sights, smells, and sounds. He saw various garments and footwear for sale, though none so fine as he was already wearing, people of both sexes singing and playing musical instruments, and a stand offering scrolls inscribed with stories from all over the land. Other stalls offered bottles of unique wine, spices, and edible treats. He wondered what Vidnar intended to shop for.
In the center of the marketplace, where Vidnar had promised to meet him, Charis paused to look at a row of uniquely carved figures. Some represented beautiful naked men, though none seemed as beautiful to him as Vidnar himself. He could easily see Vidnar buying a few of these to decorate their shared chamber, though. This was surely the stall the prince had intended him to notice.
While he stared at the statues, someone bumped into him and pushed him rudely to one side. Lifting his head, Charis started to protest at the rough treatment. The words never had a chance to leave his mouth, however. Before he had time to step out of the way, coarse hands grabbed him from behind.
Chapter 4
Panic surged inside Charis as another assailant joined the first, one grabbing him from either side. His flailing did no good as they dragged him backward through the crowd milling around the stalls. No one called out to him or attempted to interfere as his abductors pulled him between two merchants’ tents and back into a narrow space not visible to the customers. There he was gagged, blindfolded, and a cord bound tightly around his wrists. Another length of rope went around his ankles. Unable to scream or even see, he struggled in vain as the two men lifted him into what felt like a wagon and shoved him onto his side.
“Stay there,” he heard someone say. “It’ll all be over soon enough. You’ll be better off if you don’t fight.”
“Don’t worry,” another man added. Charis didn’t recognize their voices. “Your new masters won’t hurt you. They paid too high a price to do anything as wasteful as that.”
“They’ll make use of you in other ways,” the first responded, and both of them laughed. “Ways you might even like.”
Next, he heard a scraping sound, as though a curtain were being drawn across the back of the wagon, and as far as he could tell, he was alone again, Whoever had tied him up had done so with expertise, since no matter how he squirmed and twisted, he couldn’t free himself. If anything, the bonds seemed to grow tighter.
After a while, he stopped struggling and lay still, trying to figure out who had taken him prisoner and why. Though he listened carefully, he heard no other voices. Then, to his horror, he felt the wagon begin to bounce and shake as it rolled out onto some unknown road.
> Where were they taking him? And for what purpose? Where was Vidnar? Had they kidnapped him, too?
Even if there had been anyone to ask, he couldn’t speak around the gag in his mouth. And trying to scream only made him choke and cough. He had no choice but to lie still and endure the darkness, the silence, and the bumpy wagon ride. The tears that streamed from his eyes soaked the blindfold.
*~*~*
After what seemed like many hours, the wagon at last came to a shuddering stop. Charis didn’t dare twitch a muscle as he heard someone undoing the back flap again. What sounded like two pairs of footsteps came clomping toward him, and then hands rolled him onto his back.
“I see he took good care of the outfit,” a different voice said. “It’s very striking on him, no question, though Zav may decide he doesn’t need it anymore.”
“Lash does good work,” another stranger agreed. Charis gathered that somehow, his initial abductors had turned him over to these two. Who any of them might be he had no idea. “Still, Zav would probably prefer to see him without any outfit all.”
The two snickered at that thought, while Charis felt himself turning red all over.
“He will enjoy our gift, I think, though with his nonsensical ideas of social justice and servants’ rights, he’ll probably protest at first.”
“He’ll get past that soon enough. In time he will thank us. ’Tis time he learned to enjoy life again.”
“We should take the cloth from his mouth, perhaps. I’m worried that he can’t breathe.”
“Why don’t we let Zav do that? If he screams now, he’ll give the whole game away. And he seems like the type who wouldn’t hesitate to make a fuss.”
“I can’t imagine who would hear him out here. But whatever you say.”
“We can go and get Zav now, I think. He should be done unhitching his beasts by now.”
A blunt-fingered hand reached down and patted Charis’ head. “Zav is a good man. You have nothing to fear from him.”
“Nor he from you, I would hope,” the other man said, his tone edged with a warning.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sudar. You heard for yourself how well they’ve been trained. They live only to serve and please.”
“Must be an easy life.” The man addressed as Sudar punctuated his statement with a derisive snort. “I’d like to see any of these soft-skinned palace pets work for their living the way we do.”
“They earn their keep in other ways. That’s why we bought him, remember? Now come on, before Zav wanders off by himself somewhere.”
At last, they left him alone in the wagon. Trying to make sense of it all, Charis shifted into a more comfortable position and gnawed at the fabric of his gag. Apparently these men had purchased him from his original kidnappers, and from what he could make out, they planned to give him as a gift to a third man, this Zav fellow, whoever he might be.
Again his cheeks burned with shame and outrage. He was a member of the royal harem, not a slave to be bought and sold! Obviously the many thieves in the marketplace had progressed beyond the stealing of mere goods and coin, and had set their sights higher. They would soon find themselves sorry beyond belief, though. When Prince Vidnar heard about what had happened—and Charis had no doubt he would—the punishment meted out to his abductors would be swift and severe. Then the prince would rescue Charis and bring him home to the palace and the harem. He had to believe that would happen soon.
Eventually the curtain at the back of the wagon made that familiar scraping sound again as someone unfastened it and pulled it to one side. Charis heard cursing, and at last the gag and blindfold fell away from his face. He blinked and gratefully gulped deep lungfuls of fresh air.
The man kneeling beside him seemed familiar, but it took Charis a moment to place him. Then he remembered—this was the third cloth merchant, the one who had averted his eyes when Charis had stood naked in front of Lash the tailor. Charis hadn’t paid much attention to him then, but now he saw that the merchant was a good-looking man, with dark shaggy hair that fell to his shoulders and a scruff of beard that accentuated his prominent cheekbones and big dark eyes.
Those eyes were narrowed in displeasure just now, which worried Charis for a moment. Then he realized that the merchant, who was presumably the man called Zav, did not direct his annoyance at Charis.
“Krask! My brothers have a lot to answer for,” he grumbled as he bent down and, to Charis’ relief, untied his wrists and ankles. “I apologize for their brutish behavior. I can assure you I am more civilized, and I knew nothing of their plan until they told me just now.” He stepped back as Charis got slowly to his feet, rubbing his sore wrists. “Barbarians. Making you ride back here with the inventory. I trust you are not injured?”
Charis glanced at the tattoo that marked him as a harem member. How ironic those bright colors seemed now against his red, chafed skin. His fingers felt a bit numb, so he flexed them until the circulation came back.
“Do you know why you’re here?” the merchant tried again when Charis failed to answer his previous question.
Again Charis ignored him. His anger was too potent to allow him to speak, especially since he feared he might say something that would get him into worse trouble. These people were obviously thieves and had no respect for the royal house, so there was no telling what they might be capable of.
Undeterred, the merchant pushed on. “I am Zav,” he said, confirming Charis’ earlier suspicion about his identity. “I already know your name is Charis. My brothers have presented you to me as a gift. Not one I asked for or even wanted, mind you. But here you are. And I haven’t the heart to tell them they’ve wasted their money.”
Charis’ head came up sharply, but again he bit his lips to prevent unpleasant words from spilling out.
Noting his expression, Zav smiled. “You do have spirit, all right. I was warned about that—in fact, my brothers thought it would endear you to me. We’ll see if they were correct or not. I do want you to know that whatever happened back at the palace, I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure there are two sides to any story, and yours will be interesting when you care to tell it to me. I assume you’re not mute—I heard you speak back at the palace, and you’re welcome to speak here, no matter what anyone might have told you. My brothers may have thought I would prefer no conversation after the arguments Siphu and I had, but they were wrong.”
A flash of sadness crossed his undeniably handsome face. Charis was curious about that, but he forced himself not to respond emotionally. For all he knew, this man was testing him—tricking him. He resolved not to say a word. That way, he would have the advantage. Instead of responding, he simply glared.
Seeing that Charis was determined to remain tight-lipped, Zav shrugged. “Anyway, let’s just say I believe in fresh starts and go from there. You can come out of the wagon now, by the way. We’re going to camp here for the night. My brothers are making a fire right now and will be cooking some food soon. You must be ready to eat after the long day you’ve had. I had no idea you were tied up back there, believe me, or I would have insisted we stop much sooner. They only told me you were there after we pulled off the road to make camp.”
Again shaking his head in disgust at his brothers’ actions, he returned to the wagon’s back flap and motioned for Charis to follow him out. Charis gave him a wary look before he hesitantly stepped outside. As he had feared, they were well away from the city now, and instead their two merchant wagons sat in a sort of clearing surrounded by huge trees that stretched around them as far as he could see. The sky was a mottled purple color, meaning both suns would soon set and plunge the forest into darkness. Nearby, Zav’s two brothers stood near a fire with various cooking utensils and vessels. They laughed and waved at Zav, who didn’t respond.
“Those charming fellows are Rohin and Sudar,” Zav told Charis, who pretended not to listen or care. “My brothers. They’re responsible for bringing you here—I promise you again that I had no hand in it.”
&nbs
p; “I knew you wouldn’t be mad for long,” the one Charis assumed was Rohin called out. “Told you that he would cheer you up, Zav!”
“In the darkness, one man’s flesh is the same as another,” Sudar put in. “Thanks to him, you will forget Siphu in no time, just as we promised!”
Charis flashed Zav a scowl he couldn’t quite suppress in time. So he had been stolen and purchased to replace some other slave, he assumed—Siphu, whoever that was. Had he run away? Or had these men killed him somehow? A shiver coursed down his spine. Traveling merchants could be ruthless, and it was no secret they would sometimes defend their inventories with bloodshed. In the forests and along the back roads where they spent most of their time, there were no laws, or at least none that could be enforced. Charis himself could easily end up dead and left under a pile of leaves or dirt with no one to know what had become of him…not even Vidnar.
He must be very careful not to anger any of these men. He would pretend to be passive and cooperative until he figured out what to do next. But if they thought he would stay with them any longer than he had to, they were sadly mistaken.
Zav blushed at his brothers’ crude banter. “Just ignore them,” he told Charis. “I won’t go into all the details right now, since I’m as hungry as I’m sure you are, but rest assured I don’t share their attitude.”
He motioned for Charis to step out of the wagon and follow, which Charis did hesitantly. Together they approached the campfire, and the brothers grinned as Zav indicated a spot for Charis to settle himself and then took a seat on the ground beside him. Next Zav lifted a clay jug, and they poured warm water on each other’s hands to clean them before the meal. Charis had to admit that he did feel faint with hunger after being trapped in the wagon for hours.
He scarcely noticed what they ate—some kind of spicy soup the brothers prepared by throwing dried vegetables and powder into a vat of boiling water. The bread they offered was surprisingly fresh, but he assumed they had bought it in the same marketplace they had stolen him from. While he ate, the brothers continued to make crude remarks, and most of their conversation with their brother was laced with innuendo. Charis forced himself not to look at any of them or show his growing fury.