Darien stared at the front doors of his house that stood open to the night. Torches burned on his front porch, a warm invitation to his guests on a night which was quickly growing chilly. Such was the climate of the desert, though the shifts in temperature were not so drastic near the river. In the dunes, however, a man would either freeze or burn. Darien let his mind wander to the past, to old campaigns against the war-like Vadal in the north, of crossing the desert, of hunting pirates at sea. Anything to keep his mind from his current situation. This was to be his introduction into high society. Though he had left all the invitations to Saerileth, trusting her to choose the right people, he dreaded his guests’ arrival. What would he say to them? What if he blundered somehow? He had hanged criminals from his yardarm; he had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with men and watched them die pierced with arrows; he had taken the heads of countless enemies. And yet he did not have the confidence to stand proud before his betters?
That was just the thing. Were they his betters? As a commoner, Darien had grown up with a keen sense of inferiority, but he was proud as the eagle that soars over the endless sands of the Sunjaa kingdom. He had resolved at a very young age to make a name for himself, to earn his fortune and fame, and be beholden to no man. Darien drew himself up at the thought. He had risen through the ranks solely on his merit; everything he had he had earned. It was no accident of birth that gave him a fine house and vast riches. He claimed what he wanted, and now he could reap the rewards of his success. He grabbed Saerileth around her tiny waist with one arm and crushed her to his side.
Saerileth laughed, slipped away, and laid her arm on his, assuming the stance of hostess. “Your first guests arrive.”
Darien looked to the door. He heard nothing. But then, a few moments later, he saw a long train of rich and important people approaching. He did not recognize them, but they had decked their bodies in the richest jewels, and they rode in slave-borne litters. They entered his house and bowed, invoking the traditional blessing of Elendrie in Darien’s foyer. “The Earthmother share her wealth with you.” The words were repeated endlessly, and each time the guest would drop a few grains of wheat by the door. There would be a fair pile there by the end of the night.
Darien waited for the guests to approach him, and then he listened to Saerileth as she rattled off their names. She held no paper; she was not prompted in any way. She must have simply memorized the names and the order in which the guests were to arrive. Darien offered a low bow to each of his guests, honoring them as was Sunjaa custom, bidding them to partake of all that was his. A guest in a Sunjaa house was like a god, and nothing within reason could be denied him. They might eat and drink Darien out of house and home, but it would be his duty to make sure the beer never stopped flowing, that the trays were always full of food. These little concerns niggled at him, and he leaned down to whisper in Saerileth’s ear.
But she shook her head and shot Darien a grave look, even though her smile never broke. “I have taken care of everything.”
What more could Darien ask for? Saerileth was a Red Lotus, skilled not only in love and seduction but also in entertainment, heraldry, etiquette, and many more social arts. He turned back to his ever-flowing river of guests and smiled. He would leave everything to her, but he could not wait to get her alone.
It did not pass Darien’s notice that everyone who came into his house looked about critically, clearly trying to find fault with the house of a commoner, rich though he may be. But what warmed his heart with pride more than anything else was not his paintings or his marble columns or his mosaics. It was the way everyone looked at Saerileth. Their expressions would transform from disdain to shock. Darien had somehow managed to get himself a Lotus, that rare Zenji prize. He had managed to keep her and convince her to stand as hostess. With Saerileth by his side, Darien rose in their estimation. Passing the couple, the guests received floral crowns and wreaths from the servants, and they would be expected to wear them until the feast began. The Sunjaa were an ancient people, so their customs were naturally complex and strictly adhered to.
Kamen entered the house, bowed, and gave the domicile his blessing. He and Darien embraced, but it was awkward for Darien, for his feelings lay between them. All he saw in his mind’s eye was Kamen’s cock buried in Saerileth’s ass.
“You look magnificent,” Kamen said, stepping back to admire Darien’s figure.
“Thank you, Kamen.” Darien gestured helplessly toward his friend. “You, well—”
Kamen waved away the comment before it was said. “I’m used to the sinfully expensive clothes.” He smelled of sandalwood, exotic and masculine.
Darien could not deny how handsome Kamen looked that evening. A black and gold silk scarf held his dreadlocks back, allowing them to sweep up his head and fall over his bare shoulders. He wore silver, hoop nipple rings that only served to draw attention to his chiseled chest and defined abs. Darien was keenly aware of the tattoo they shared, and he looked over at Saerileth. But if Saerileth was in any way discomposed by Kamen’s presence, she did not show it. She smiled easily at him and welcomed him with no greater or less feeling than she greeted any of the other guests.
Kamen entered the house and disappeared in the growing crowd of mingling partygoers. Saerileth squeezed Darien’s hand, and that was all the reassurance he needed. He returned his attention to the next arrival.
Darien was just getting comfortable and growing used to the bowing and smiling and instantly forgetting everyone’s names when he spotted Ulen Ahnok, his former commander. Darien had not seen him for years, and he was surprised at how unkind the time had been to Ulen. The man he remembered had been full of youthful vigor, his muscles rippling beneath his dark skin, but this man who walked toward him had lost that physique. His beer gut revealed the manner in which he had spent his retirement. Ulen had always loved to drink, even while on duty, but his natural youth had covered such abuse. But the years had caught up with him. Darien could assume that he no longer exercised as he once had; certainly he went on no long marches. Ulen was bleary-eyed, and his care-worn face displayed little of the man Darien had once known.
“Darien,” Ulen called out, his white teeth standing out against his dark lips. “How long has it been?” He reached out to embrace him, and though Darien did not want to, he opened his arms to welcome his former leader. The last time they had seen each other, Ulen had had him flogged for disobedience. That was the day Darien left the navy and joined the army, not willing to serve under a man who had dealt him such an injustice.
Ulen glanced sideways for a moment, and his arms fell. His false smile evaporated, and the false cheer that gleamed in his eyes dulled. His smile morphed into thin-lipped anger. “The Lotus.” He stared at Saerileth. “You have her.” His voice was but a whisper, though it trembled with emotion.
Darien’s first reaction was to put his arm around Saerileth. She leaned into him. The Lotus. Saerileth had been lost at sea. She had told Darien about how she had been bound for Arinport, that she had been purchased. Ulen? Was Ulen the buyer? Darien looked down at Saerileth, but she did not return his stare. Instead, she maintained her practiced smile and spoke gracefully to Ulen as if he were no different from any of Darien’s other guests. She must not have known that Ulen was her buyer.
“Welcome to the House of Darien,” she said in flawless Sunjaa, repeating the greeting she had given everyone else. “His house is yours. Come, and eat your fill as Jehiel at Elendrie’s board.” And she bowed.
Ulen only stared. His fury radiated from him like light and heat. Darien wondered if he might lash out and strike either Saerileth or himself. Though he did not move, his muscles tensed, and he stood vigilant. But Ulen was holding up the line, and though he moved past the couple and received his floral crown and wreath, he did so with an ill grace. He grumbled and stared, muttered and cursed. Darien watched from the corner of his eye as Ulen took a glass of beer from a tray and guzzled it. Words would pass between them before the night was throug
h, Darien was sure of it.
Once all the guests had arrived, Saerileth played the perfect hostess by calling for a toast to Darien’s health, after which entertainment ensued. Oboes accompanied the string instruments, and as Darien listened from his seat of honor – everyone else sat on lower stools or lounged on pillows – he thought about the dulcimer he had commissioned for Saerileth. He planned to give it to her at this party, and he took pride in the fact that she played her instrument better than any of the professional musicians there. Topless dancing girls clad in jewels and translucent, flowing skirts and not much more twirled and jumped through the house, interacting with the male guests in suggestive ways. Lithe acrobats came next, twisting their bodies and flipping all around the place. Darien found it all rather distracting, but he applauded and laughed where appropriate. If nothing else, he marveled at Saerileth’s ability to so quickly organize such a complex party as this was turning out to be.
Darien’s eyes sought Kamen, and he found his friend standing off near the edge of the gathering, watching the entertainment and leaning against the wall sipping his wine. His eyes met Darien’s, and he smiled. Darien looked away, now seeking Ulen. He found him, and he was already staring at Darien. Ulen made no effort to hide his wrath; he stood with arms crossed and a perpetual frown on his face.
The dancing completed, food was brought, carried in on numerous ornate silver trays, laden with every good thing the River gave the Sunjaa. Cheese and grilled fowl; beef flavored with rosemary; ham glazed with mustard sweetened with honey; figs and other fruit. The commingled scents of cumin, garlic, parsley, and cinnamon filled the air. Low murmurs of appreciation filled the air as all guests were served plates of boiled cabbage. It was a Sunjaa delicacy, eaten before the meal properly began. Everyone partook, and Saerileth, too, ate daintily. Darien remembered how she had laughed upon arranging the banquet. To a Zenji, there was nothing more plain and unappetizing than plain, boiled cabbage.
Other meats – duck, goose, goat, fish – were brought in and set around the guests. Everyone ate from low tables; Darien alone sat in a normal chair, and Saerileth stood by his side. Servants passed around trays filled with chickpeas and beans, imported fruit and local vegetables such as onions, cucumbers, and lettuce. And everyone ate garlic – lots of it. The Sunjaa thought it good for one’s health, though Darien ate but little, for he knew how Saerileth disliked it; and he did not want to torture her, given how many kisses he planned on giving her later that night.
And then there was bread. Everywhere. Forty varieties of bread were brought forth, and guests broke open hot loaves, steam rising from the loaves as they were devoured. The smell of fresh-baked bread overpowered all other scents, and this brought about an increase in animated conversation. Beer and wine flowed freely, and as their bellies filled, the guests became more and more gregarious.
Darien summoned Aben to his side with a snap of his fingers. Into his ear, he whispered, “Fetch the dulcimer.” He glanced over at Saerileth, but her attention was elsewhere.
When Aben returned, Darien took the dulcimer, still wrapped in silk, and held it out to Saerileth. “I had this made for you, and I want you to accept it as a symbol of my love for you.”
Saerileth’s blue eyes widened, and she took the dulcimer in her hands, grasping it in just the right places to not disturb the strings. In that moment, Darien knew she already knew what it was. Damn her keen hearing! He chuckled to himself and resolved to give her a thorough spanking later. Saerileth unwrapped her gift, revealing the beautiful cherry-wood instrument.
“Thank you, Master,” she said, kissing his cheek.
A collective murmur of wonderment went up from the guests. The Master had given his Lotus a gift, and she was pleased with it. She had even kissed him in front of all his guests. Some men raised their cups in salute to Darien’s amorous prowess; others smiled and nodded. Only one objected, and he made his ire clear.
“I will speak with you, Darien.” Ulen stood at Darien’s elbow, ripping his attention away from Saerileth.
“I will tune my dulcimer,” Saerileth said, paying no attention to Ulen and thus bringing no embarrassment upon Darien.
Darien knew he would have to deal with Ulen sooner or later, and this moment seemed as good a time as any. He took his former commander by the arm and led him from the room. Once in a side corridor, he bade Ulen speak.
“You have my Lotus.”
“No, I have my Lotus.” Darien crossed his arms across his broad chest. “I found her floating in an oar-less boat on the open sea, lost and alone. I claimed her by salvage rights, and, yes, I flew under the king’s flag at the time.”
Ulen choked on his anger. “Salvage rights be damned! I bought her, so you should hand her over.”
“How do you know Saerileth is the one you bought?”
“I saw her,” Ulen said. “I was permitted to enter the guild and look through the window. I chose her because she was the most beautiful.”
“You have good taste in women.”
“Do not mock me.” Ulen took a menacing step forward, but that was all he did. He could not physically threaten Darien, not even when he had been in his prime, certainly not as a drink-sodden wretch. But Ulen’s rage only increased. “I shoveled over a large sum of gold for her, and I want her back.”
Darien spread his arms wide in mock helplessness. “Sorry.”
“I will pay you what I paid the guild.”
“No deal.”
Hate spread across Ulen’s features. “You fool.”
“Surely you had your purchase insured.”
“Of course I did. But that’s not the point. It’s not just the money. I bought a Lotus for good reason, not to stand as hostess at some rich commoner’s party, an uncouth soldier playing at nobility.” Ulen was the king’s cousin and was of high noble blood, but in his present state, he could not inspire admiration from anyone, especially Darien.
“If you’ve got your money back,” Darien said, “then why not just go buy another Lotus?”
“Idiot! You really don’t know anything, do you? A man gets only one contract to buy a Lotus in his life. If he loses her, he cannot get another. Guild rules.”
“Sorry,” Darien said, but he made sure his mocking tone clearly showed how he was not sorry. “I find my treasures at sea, so I don’t know about any of these fine things.”
Ulen clenched and unclenched his fists. He probably wanted to strike Darien, but even Ulen was not that stupid. “Twenty lashes weren’t enough, I see. I should’ve had you flogged to death, you mutineer!”
Now it was Darien’s turn to step forward, and so menacing was his threat that Ulen fell back against the wall. “I was no mutineer. No man of conscience was bound to obey your orders.”
A wildness entered Ulen’s eyes, and Darien sensed that he was about to try something foolish and dangerous. But before Ulen could act, Saerileth appeared in the hallway.
“Pardon the interruption, Master,” she said, “but you are neglecting your guests. I have tuned my dulcimer. Will you hear me play?”
“With all my heart, my love.” Darien did not take his gaze from Ulen. He wanted Ulen to know just what kind of relationship he and Saerileth shared. Ulen’s eye twitched, and his lips trembled in fury.
Giving no more thought to his enemy, Darien turned and offered Saerileth his arm. With his Red Lotus – with the most beautiful woman in all Gilalion – Darien re-entered his party and reckoned himself a king. He had all he wanted, the Zenji girl with the cobalt-blue eyes.
Saerileth played for Darien, and it seemed to him a private performance, though everyone listened. A Lotus did not play background music, so when she first struck the strings of the dulcimer and raised her voice in song, all conversation ceased. Darien’s heart swelled with pride again, and as the gentle verse rose in a soaring chorus, so, too, did Darien’s love for Saerileth take wing. Her melody jumped the octave, her perfect phrasing touching his soul. He wanted everyone at the party to listen to h
er and see her, to remember her forever and know that this was his Saerileth. He wanted the world to take note of her and acknowledge her for her beauty’s sake, for everything that she was – refinement, culture, learning, wit, grace, and beauty.
During the performance, Darien’s eye caught some movement off to the side, and he watched Kamen cross the room to stand near Ulen. They alone spoke in hushed tones, their heads bent toward each other, their eyes on Saerileth. Darien breathed easier and was grateful for his friend keeping his enemy away.
The party carried on until nearly dawn, and Darien was weary as he bade his guests goodnight. They all toasted him again, and Darien in turn raised his glass to Saerileth. A Red Lotus was someone everyone could drink to, and the whole assembly drained their cups in her honor, Darien included. Once everyone was gone from the house, Darien lay back on the pillows and kicked some trash aside. He was more exhausted than after a forced march. His house was littered with garbage, but he considered it a small offering for such a successful evening.
“Thank you, Saeri,” he said, holding out his arms to her.
She fell into his embrace and laid her head on his chest. “It was my pleasure, Darien. My gift to you in celebration of your retirement.”
Darien inhaled the fragrance from her hair, and he kissed along her braids.
Saerileth traced his tattoo across his chest with her finger. “I wanted to ask you about your tattoo. You and Kamen have the same one.”
The subject of Kamen unsettled Darien. “I was the scourge of the sea, and my reputation sailed before me. One time my enemies – pirates – caught me in a trap up the coast. We were boarded, but Kamen and I fought side by side and repelled the little thieving insects. I lost half my crew but not my ship. And my reputation only grew more fearsome. After that, we got matching tattoos of water-serpents so that we’d always remember that day.”
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