“You've killed Evix!” The shock on the Guildmaster's face was, Ajalira suspected, the only genuine emotion he had ever shown her.
“He tried to kill me.” The flesh was separating nicely from the bone.
Silence fell, a silence broken only the bubbling of the pot on the stove.
“Your life is forfeit,” said the Guildmaster at last. “You will be executed.”
Ajalira nodded. By this time, doubtless, the Ausir ships were well away from the shores of the Dimadan. Even though her true species would be noticed when they buried her, she doubted that any news of it would reach her people—and she doubted they would care. No one would know who she was. “Come then, and kill me.”
“You'd like that.” The Guildmaster spoke with dispassion. “But no. The Lotuses will paralyze you, and you will die in the courtyard before all of these flowers whom you have shamed with your failures and your murder of Evix.”
“I did not murder him.” Ajalira spooned out the bone onto the hard wood of the table. She dried the bone on the bloody cotton of her gown as she went on. “He tried to murder me. That, no doubt, I may thank you for.”
The Guildmaster did not respond to her broad thrust, but Ajalira had not expected that he would. He was like the Lotuses, skilled in the parry and jab of verbal sparring, and he would not bother with her. She picked up the dried bone and braided a small lock of her hair around it.
“Come then, and kill me,” she said again. She held out her knife before her, and the Guildmaster, with a weary sigh, gestured the Lotuses forward.
Ajalira kept her eyes on her advancing foes, kept her knife dancing in the air in front of her. She felt five jabs in her back, and as she fell into the arms of the fifth Lotus, the one she had never seen until this moment, Ajalira knew that her life had come to an end.
****
Ajalira's chains were iron. Her ankles were shackled together, and heavy manacles kept her hands behind her back. She had not even been changed into a fresh gown, and she would die in the white cotton shift that bore Evix's bloodstains.
She was glad that the paralysis had worn off. She did not want to die still unable to lift her head to the sky. She looked out across the guildhouse garden, across its calm serenity, and she saw only enemies. Not one of these Lotuses would mourn her death. Even had she not killed Evix, a favorite trainer, she had never made even a single friend here. How could she when they considered themselves proud and honored women, and she considered them—and herself—slaves and whores?
The smoothness of Evix's bone against her cheek was the only pleasure she had. She would die as a Tamari should, with the bones of her enemies braided into her hair.
Then the sound of the harbor horn carried on the breeze, and Ajalira jerked her head up to see the dark masts and broad sails of the Sunjaa flagship silhouetted against the dawn-blushed sky.
Chapter Four
Once Kamen stood on the Dimadan beach again, a thousand excuses ran through his mind. He had returned for Ajalira. He had come back to look into her eyes one more time, had come back for the chance to touch her golden tresses. But he certainly could not tell the Guildmaster that. Kamen was the acting head of state; to return for a kitchen slave—Kamen shook his head and laughed. The mystery of Ajalira compelled him; her beauty brought him back. There was more, however. Her sense of honor. Her courage. Her selflessness. He had to see her again.
Kamen whistled, and four royal guards fell into step on either side of him, their bare chests soaking up the morning sun, their spear-tips glinting in the strengthening of dawn's light. The Sunjaa marched up the beach, and just before Kamen disappeared into the trees that separated the beach front from the city beyond, he looked back at the Aramina. Ruben saluted him. Kamen scratched his thick sideburns, tied his dreadlocks back, and resolved to go with what they had discussed: he would pretend he had come back to offer the Zenji ships for protection.
The Guildmaster, surrounded by meek servants and lovely, painted Lotuses, met Kamen richly-dressed at the gate to the compound. The high wall that encircled the grounds kept prying eyes out, but through the gate, Kamen saw some commotion in the courtyard of the main hall. He craned his neck to see what was happening, but the Guildmaster prevented him. He was all smiles and fawning kindness.
“Regent, you have returned.” He bowed low, and all his servants and Lotuses did likewise.
“Yes.” Kamen tried to look past him, but the Guildmaster thrust his grinning face in the way.
“How is it that the Red Lotus Guild is doubly blessed with your visit?”
Kamen gave up. “I've come back for one final point of business.” He cut off the Guildmaster's unspoken objection. “I thought it best to make my proposal in person instead of sending a messenger.”
“I see. And how may we serve you, then?”
Kamen gestured to the gate.
The Guildmaster turned his head to look back. “Yes, how clumsy of me. Please come in. Let me offer you some tea.”
“That would be most welcome.” Kamen caught some more movement in the courtyard. He saw a Lotus wrapping a bright curved sword in a long length of red silk as some servants led away a hooded figure. A female, her white, cotton shift bloodstained.
“What's that?” Kamen asked.
The Guildmaster turned his attention back to Kamen and stepped up right into his line of sight. He made himself as tall as possible, straightened his shoulders, and positioned his head directly in front of Kamen's gaze. “It's nothing, Regent. An internal matter of discipline.”
Kamen was getting tired of the Guildmaster's grinning.
After a few more moments of delay, the Guildmaster commanded that the gate be opened, and it was raised with ropes and wheels like a portcullis. Kamen walked through the small crowd and followed the Guildmaster inside.
Once he was sitting at a table blowing gently across the surface of a cup of steaming green tea, Kamen spoke of his return. “As you know, the Ausir are at war.”
The Guildmaster nodded. Doubtless he also knew what the Losiengare had planned, too, though he had not thought it appropriate to inform Kamen.
Kamen ran his fingertip along the silver hoop of his nose-ring. “They have proven themselves reckless.”
“They brought their war within Sunjaa waters.” The Guildmaster bowed from where he sat across the table. “They should have known better than to challenge the sovereignty of His Majesty King Jahen.”
“Indeed.” Kamen let the flattery pass. “As the situation now is rather unpredictable, I thought it best to install a couple of Sunjaa warships to help bolster the Zenji fleet. See, you're our allies, and just to be safe, what with the vagaries of war and all, we'd be happy to help you out. Perhaps you could take my proposal to the city elders?”
The Guildmaster folded his hands before his chin as he thought. “And what must the Dimadan do in exchange for such generosity?”
“Simply do not let the Ausir get a foothold here. If they did, they'd have a base within striking distance of Sunjaa and Fihdal borders.”
The Guildmaster nodded slowly and kept his eyes on the table. “A reasonable offer, Regent. I will take your words to the council.”
Kamen bowed from his seated position. And how would he broach the subject of Ajalira? “I don't anticipate any problems with the Ausir.”
The Guildmaster's eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. He was not going to make this easy for Kamen. Kamen had drunk half his cup, so a silk-clad slave toddled over and silently freshened his tea. “The aptitude of a Lotus is legendary. You'd know anything before the Ausir could enact any treachery.”
“This is true.” The Guildmaster sipped his tea. “I am most fortunate to have such capable women.”
Kamen's nod slowed as he came to the crux of it. He scratched his sideburns. “What honor, grace, and breeding they have, too!”
“And beauty.”
Kamen thought of Ajalira. Even the foreign slaves were beautiful. “What would they not do for you, Gui
ldmaster? Even your kitchen staff is selfless and courageous.”
The Guildmaster's eyes flashed in annoyance for just a moment, but he quickly recovered his composure. Anyone else would not have caught the slip, but Kamen had made a career out of reading people. As Regent, he had to be ever vigilant. “The Red Lotus Guild is blessed with only the finest. We value our customers.”
“The one who spoke to me earlier—that blonde-haired one,” Kamen said tentatively.
The Guildmaster's face was a mask, but Kamen caught the shuffling of nervous feet from the servants out of the corner of his eye.
“It's peculiar that one such as she would be here. I'd like to know her history.”
The Guildmaster turned his cup once, twice, three times before he responded. He stared into his teacup. “She and her mother washed up one day, and I took them in. Sadly, her mother soon died, and she has been in my care ever since.” He looked up and put on his best pained, bittersweet smile.
“I see.” Kamen had to push the matter still forward. “The Sunjaa are allied with our Vadal neighbors to the north. Could it be that she came from that kingdom? Or maybe Fihdal?”
The Guildmaster shook his head. “Perhaps, but I do not see—”
“I wonder if she might know. Have you asked her?”
“She was young when she came here, too young to remember anything but the Dimadan.” The Guildmaster was blocking him. Kamen would batter down his defenses and corner him in his evasions.
“I wonder how it is that she can speak Ausir, being as she is a mere serving wench.”
The Guildmaster's false smile almost snapped, and his features grew tight as he struggled to hide his annoyance. “Would the Regent mind if I asked where he is going with this line of questioning?”
Kamen smiled and laid his hands flat on the table. “Not at all. See, I'm looking for an interpreter. What with the increased Ausir threat, I'd like to have someone at my side at court who can help me muddle through this whole affair.”
“All my Lotuses speak Ausir, Regent. Why not rent or purchase one of them?”
“But your kitchen wenches do, too. Why not buy one of them? She will not be missed.”
The Guildmaster folded his hands around his teacup and fiddled with it, tapping its lip with his thumbs. “I am afraid that the one of you speak of has found herself in unfortunate circumstances.”
Kamen sat up from his semi-reclined position.
“She was too bold, daring to speak to one of my honored guests. She must be punished for her brazen discourtesy.”
“I was not offended.”
“It does not matter, Regent. I cannot have my slaves thinking they can accost visiting heads of state whenever they want.”
Kamen stood suddenly, and the Guildmaster popped to his feet. Kamen shouldered up next to his host and spoke in a whisper. “Why punish her when you can sell her to me? You can turn a profit on her disobedience. She's just one kitchen girl.”
“Yes, but my Lotuses are capable of serving you in the war. Why not take one of them? Their knowledge of Ausir goes beyond language. They are trained in history, politics, heraldry, and etiquette.”
Kamen did not want a Lotus. Darien had his Lotus, so the thought of taking one, too, was distasteful. Kamen had lost his best friend and the love of his life to a Lotus. But how could he explain this to the Guildmaster? And how could he tell him that he was drunk on Ajalira's fragrance and drawn to her mystery? How could he tell the Guildmaster that he saw Darien's same goodness in her: her nobility of purpose and her impeccable honor?
“I want Ajalira.”
The Guildmaster's lips turned up in a sardonic smile, no doubt in response to the use of her first name. He turned to one of his body slaves. “Fetch her out.” Once the servant had run off, he addressed Kamen. “Regent, she is recalcitrant. She will give you nothing but trouble.”
“I'll take my chances.”
When Kamen saw Ajalira, his heart broke. A purple welt covered half her mouth. Someone had punched her. Her disheveled hair still held its braid, but it was frayed, with stray locks hanging down her back and across her shoulders. She wore a bloodstained white nightgown, but the blood was not hers. It was dry. Ajalira held her head up proudly, her upper lip stiff, her shoulders squared. She locked gazes with Kamen, and she pierced him with her blue-green stare. As she stepped forward, the sound of metal clinking caused Kamen to look down. She wore chains on her ankles.
“We thought she might run,” the Guildmaster said. “She had tried to escape before.”
Kamen did not take his eyes from Ajalira's noble beauty. Her smeared cosmetics were nothing more than her badge of courage, and Kamen loved her for that. Though a prisoner, she was unashamed. And all this she suffered because she had told Kamen the Losiengare secret. All this for Kamen. “You shall release her at once into my custody. Consider her payment for the ships the Crown will send to guard the Dimadan.”
The Guildmaster opened his mouth, but Kamen's withering stare devoured whatever complaint might have been uttered. He snapped his fingers, and the slaves unchained her.
“You shall bathe her and give her fit clothes to travel in,” Kamen said, and the Guildmaster ordered it done. Anger pricked Kamen, and he struggled to keep his emotions from slipping into full-blown rage. He wanted to throttle the Guildmaster, and for this moment, he wished he were not a political figure. If he were still the first mate on Darien's ship, he would have already beaten the pompous old man into unconsciousness.
Ajalira was led away, and Kamen sat down to wait for her. He thoughtlessly ate whatever snacks the servants gave him, but the savory treats held no flavor. Ajalira suffered for him, a stranger. The Guildmaster droned on at him about the naval arrangements, but Kamen did not listen. Ajalira had been beaten for him, a random guest in the guildhouse.
Ajalira's return was like a second dawn. She was clean, her hair elaborately piled up on her head in lovely, complicated braided patterns, and she wore the garb of a Lotus: the short shirt that left her stomach bare, the long skirt, and the pallav with which she wrapped her shoulders and face. Just like Saerileth. But in every other way she was unlike Darien's Lotus. Her hair was blonde, not black. Her eyes were blue-green, not merely blue. And her face held an alien beauty that Saerileth's common charm could not compete with. The only evidence of Ajalira's mistreatment was the bruise on the side of her mouth.
Kamen approached Ajalira, and she bowed low to him. “Master.”
Not her master, but Kamen could not correct her in front of the Zenji. He simply held out his hand. “Come, my lady.” She laid hers in his, and he walked away with her, accompanied only by the silent gawking of the Lotuses.
****
Kamen made sure he stayed away from Ajalira on the return journey. He did not want the crew gossiping, and he knew that if he were in the same cabin with her, he would not be able to resist her. And that was the last thing Ajalira needed. Kamen could not figure her out, but he set his mind to do so. He did not know what to make of her, but he could not deny his attraction. He could not let her kindness go unanswered. He hoped that by taking her away from the guildhouse, a place from which she had tried to escape, he had in part repaid her generosity.
The new day dawned behind Kamen, and he felt the first rays of the morning warm his neck. He watched from the bow as Ruben piloted the Aramina into the harbor. At last, he was back in Arinport. Kamen mourned the burned remains of an entire neighborhood that had caught fire during the Ausir's wild attack. He was glad that someone had gotten the blaze under control and saved the city. The first order of business was to confirm the safety and well-being of the King, but Kamen's heart thudded in his chest when he realized what awaited him.
Mirsa's Crown lay gleaming in the harbor, her majesty rivaling the Aramina's, her masts every bit as tall, her hull every bit as proud. Darien was back. The bowsprit of the Admiral's ship was the figure of Mirsa herself coming up out of the water, a living extension of the sea. How long had it been sinc
e Kamen had seen the Mother of the Sea? How many months had Darien been away?
Kamen shook the flaccid nerves out of his hands and began to pace. He wanted to see Darien, but he did not want any of the awkwardness. He loved Darien like a brother; he had once loved him as much more than that. But now his thoughts dwelt on Ajalira. He wondered how he would feel once he saw Darien again. The Aramina slid into dock next to Mirsa's Crown, and the first thing Kamen heard was Darien's booming voice. Kamen smiled.
Darien stood on his quarter deck with arms crossed and a beaming smile. Feelings stirred in Kamen as he looked on his oldest friend. Darien was taller than any Sunjaa Kamen had ever seen, and he was broader in the chest and shoulders than the strongest of men. Darien was a lion, and all the men who scrambled around him doing his bidding were mere cubs. His confident beauty and his easy manner were what had first drawn Kamen to Darien, but what made him love him was Darien's goodness. He was the most good-hearted man Kamen knew.
Kamen's thoughts flitted to Ajalira. Truly she was beautiful, too, but it was her goodness that had conquered Kamen. Kamen smiled back at Darien and waved. Darien waved back and moved to come down the gangplank. The flagship had returned bearing the Regent.
Kamen was by no means a short man, but standing before Darien, he felt like a child. He remembered Darien's touch, how Darien used to mount him and spray his cum inside him. And Darien's kiss had been like honey, and Kamen wanted to hold him again. But he betrayed none of his feelings. Their embrace on the docks was a firm yet brief clasp of upper arms.
“Welcome back, Regent.” Darien looked into Kamen's eyes.
Kamen slapped his friend on the shoulders twice. “It's been too long. How are you?”
Darien glanced over at Mirsa's Crown, the ship he captained as Admiral, even though the Crown had offered him the flagship, the Aramina. “She's kept me afloat. She's the terror of the sea, and I've still not grown tired of watching pirates come full about at the sight of her.”
Kamen remembered his days of sailing aboard her. “As Regent I must publicly prefer the Aramina, herself a fine ship, but as Kamen, nothing will ever compare to the Crown.”
A Lotus for the Regent Page 6