The Soldier's Lotus

by Adonis Devereux

  The sounds of the soldiers’ marching boots faded away north along the cliff, and Darien began his slow descent. He did not want to risk sleeping up top; he would find some place to rest his head on the rocky beach below. The moonlit beach was beautiful, and the foam of the waves glowed purple in the night. From his altered perspective, Darien spied the mast of a ship hidden in the nearby cove.

  “There she is.” Darien’s heart burned in anticipation of seeing Mirsa’s Crown again.

  Natural rock walls rose out of the sea, creating a small entrance to the sheltered cove that a warship could barely sail through. Most captains would not dare try the passage, for one slip would send the ship crashing against the walls, and the hull would splinter and crumble. No one wanted his ship at the bottom of the sea. But Darien had made the pass several times, and he had taught his men how to do it, to sail in against the ebb and leave against the flow. Counter-intuitive to be sure, but it worked. He was pleased to see that Ruben, his former second-mate, captained the Crown so proficiently.

  There was no way into the cove by land, for the same sheer cliff upon which Darien had slept wrapped itself around the harbor like a city wall. Darien would have to swim. He stripped naked and threw everything in his pack, which he then tucked under one arm, and he waded out into the black water. Sharp rocks jabbed into the soles of his feet, but his flesh was calloused from years of marching. Once he was standing waist-deep, he stretched out and swam. The cold ocean water thrilled him, invigorating him. He was home again. He swam out far enough to swing around and bypass the wall, after which he turned landward. The Crown sat glowing in the moonlight. Her sails were furled, and all was quiet. She slept like a baby, and the subdued waves of the cove rocked her like a gentle mother. Darien’s glee lent him strength to swim faster, and he could not reach his ship soon enough. His ship? No, indeed, for he had retired. Though he did not regret his decision – Saerileth was a greater good than any military career – he longed for the sea again.

  A voice cried out in the dark, and Darien was happy to see that his men had not lost their vigilant edge. “Man overboard!”

  The Crown came to life with activity, and soon a dozen faces were peering over the edge, trying to make out who swam toward them.

  “Who goes there?”

  Darien recognized Ruben’s voice.

  “It is I, Darien.” He treaded water near the briny hull.

  “Captain?” Ruben’s face disappeared, and Darien heard him give order to lower a net.

  Darien was pulled aboard in short order, and all the men he knew so well crowded around him. They asked him a thousand questions at once. Some smiled, others shouted for joy, and still others stood silent and confused. Darien stood naked and dripping wet before them, and not a few of the sailors stared with appreciation at the size of his pendulous cock.

  Ruben silenced the commotion. “Quiet!” When things calmed down, he embraced Darien. “What brings you here, Captain? We all thought you died. We heard about your house.”

  So Ulen had given out that he was dead. “Let’s talk alone, if you don’t mind, Captain.” Darien leveled a knowing stare at Ruben, hoping his former second-mate understood that there could only be one captain aboard ship.

  “Of course, Darien.” Ruben held out his hand to lead the way to his cabin.

  Darien threw on some clothes. It was strange for him to walk into his old quarters and realize they were not his. The decor was the same, but the personal effects of the room gave it an altogether different look. This was not Darien’s chamber anymore.

  “A beer?” Ruben closed the door.

  “Yes, that’d be nice.”

  Ruben gestured to the divan. “Have a seat, Captain.” It was the same black velvet seat where he had first made love to Saerileth. “Sorry, but you’re Captain of the Crown.”

  “Not anymore.” Darien took the mug of beer offered him, toasted the ship, and downed his beverage in two big gulps. “Congratulations on your promotion. It gives me no end of joy to see that the navy was smart enough to give you your own ship.”

  Ruben drank his cup empty, too, put his hands on his hips, and looked up and around the room. “I just hope I do well by her.”

  “You have.”

  Ruben nodded. “So, what are you doing here? You’ve got something planned.”

  “We need to neutralize the Zenji blockade of Arinport.”

  Ruben nodded again, this time chuckling. “I figured you might say something like that.” He tossed Darien an apple, which Darien deftly caught.

  Darien bit into the fruit, but he did not bother swallowing before he continued speaking. “We need to take the Crown out and gather other ships. They’re out there, just waiting for us, waiting for a leader to take the fight to the enemy.”

  “Of course, the ship is yours.”

  Darien waved away the comment. “That’s not necessary. This is your ship.”

  “Was my ship. The moment you came aboard, it became yours again. The men will follow you up Veirakai’s asshole if you ask them to.”

  Darien sat forward on the divan. “They respect you, Ruben.”

  “Respect me, sure.” Ruben came over and sat down beside Darien. “But they love you. They worship you. Adore you.”

  “That’s taking it a bit far.” Darien could not help but think of Kamen.

  Ruben reached over to the low table before him and took a handful of dates in his hand. “I don’t think so. Regardless, the men will sail into battle if you tell them to, even against Arinport itself. They need your kind of leadership.”

  Darien did not want to stand on false modesty. “I’ll take the Crown if you want, but as soon as we take Arinport, she’s all yours again.”

  “Deal.” Ruben extended his hand, and Darien shook it. “I’m going to call common quarters tonight if we’re sailing out tomorrow. Want to join us?”

  “No, thanks. You go ahead.”

  Ruben slapped Darien on the knee and rose. “I’ll be back soon.”

  ****

  The next morning, all the men were assembled on the main deck. Darien looked out over them from the quarterdeck and knew every face, every name. The blue waves of the ocean and the clean sunlight that rained down on Darien’s brown shoulders made it hard to believe that there was a war going on, that men were going to die, and that the Sunjaa homeland was in the hands of a usurping murderer.

  “Men of the Crown,” Darien called out, his voice carrying above the roar of the sea. “Our home is held captive, our homes in the hands of a homegrown enemy. Never have Sunjaa fought Sunjaa, nor do I plan to start a civil war today. Arinport is blockaded by a Zenji fleet. I plan to strike the harbor and destroy the foreign rats infesting our waters. Once the sea is ours, the city will be ours, and we shall make Ulen Ahnok pay for his regicide. He has shamed us in the eyes of the nations, and we must redeem our Sunjaa name and pride! Are we so weak that we resort to knives in the dark and the murder of women? King Jahen is the rightful heir, the legal heir. We Sunjaa are people of law. We always have been. If we lose that, we become less Sunjaa than if we interbreed with other races. Ulen is less pure a Sunjaa than King Jahen is because Ulen is a usurper.”

  The sailors nodded their heads and muttered to one another in agreement.

  “Ulen consorts with foreigners and uses them to terrorize the populace.” Darien knew this was not true, but he could imagine how the people of Arinport hated the Zenji fleet. Ulen obviously had had some Zenji connection before the coup, for no one could have so quickly recruited an entire fleet of foreign ships. He had something sufficient for the Zenji to have gone to war for him. “What say you, men? Will you fight?”

  The sailors roared out the affirmative.

  Darien looked at Ruben, indicating that he may proceed. Ruben, now first mate, raised the banner of King Jahen, the royal seal of the snake eating its tail, and everyone looked on the flag in silence.

  ****

  Darien spent the next few days sailing up and down the c
oast, rallying ships and men to King Jahen’s banner, making the same speech more times than he ever wished to. But he did his duty, and with every day that passed, his desire to see Saerileth grew. Darien never took part in common quarters; he had never much cared for it even before he met Saerileth, but he had done it because it was the Sunjaa way. This was temporary duty, however, and soon he would be back in Saerileth’s arms. He had won his glories for the kingdom; he had taken pirate booty to last a lifetime. All he wanted, after Ulen was defeated, was to live in peace with his precious Red Lotus.

  One evening, when his fleet was assembled and floating across the dark waters of the ocean, Darien sat in his cabin and sipped his wine. Ruben shared the bottle with him, and they talked of the old days and campaigns.

  “So, how is your Lotus?” Ruben asked without preamble.

  “My Lotus?” Darien had not expected Saerileth to be brought up in conversation.

  “The one who gave you that.” Ruben gestured to the silken black band around Darien’s wrist. “Or do you wear the locks of another lady?”

  “No, it’s Saerileth’s hair.” The recollection of when she had given it to him constricted Darien’s chest.

  “Yes, Saerileth, the one who ended the mighty Darien’s shining military career.”

  “Is that the way you think of it?” Darien saw the scene play out before him again, when Saerileth was almost gang-raped aboard his ship. He did not mention it, however, especially since Ruben had had no part in it.

  “You had everything, Captain.” Ruben kicked back and put his feet up on the low table. “And you gave it up for a woman. A stunningly beautiful woman to be sure, but still – just a woman.”

  “Not just a woman. First of all, I was richer than the sun. Why did I need to keep chasing down pirates? But more than that: the moment I saw Saerileth, I knew I wanted her. I needed her. This ship is a beautiful lady, and I thought I could never love another. But then I met my Lotus.” Darien rose and ran his hand along the wood of the ship’s inner wall. “Even the Crown doesn’t compare to her. I know, it sounds like sacrilege coming from a sailor at sea, but there it is. I wouldn’t take Abrexa herself over my Saerileth. And when this little uprising of Ulen’s is put down, I’m hanging up my captain’s sash for good.”

  “The gods give you joy of her.” Ruben raised his glass in a toast.

  “They already have.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Saerileth sat motionless, hearing the screams and shouts of death. Her tears were silent, and she stared at her nurse. Blood trickled down her nurse’s cheek. Saerileth wanted to wipe the blood away, but terror held her in chains. The door wrenched open, but it was not the glorious soldier of her salvation. Instead, it was Kamen who stood before her, and he turned away, crying out, “No one here, Captain!”

  Saerileth sat up, her breast heaving. Sweat soaked her hair to her brow, and she felt tears on her cheeks. For the first time since Darien had told her he loved her, she had woken from the nightmare of her childhood. “Abrexa, by your golden chain I beg you, keep my Master safe. Melara, by your roses I beg you, keep my love safe. Bring him back to me.” She gave up on sleep altogether, rising to move through her Lotus Forms. Perhaps if she exhausted herself sufficiently, she would be able to sleep the following night.

  “Darien, my love, I will be waiting for you.” When she had completed the forms, she went back to the pallet and curled up, inhaling Darien’s scent, which still clung to the camp blanket.

  ****

  “So tell me, Lotus, how is that you, a Zenji, speak such perfect Vadal? Not to mention Sunjaa?” General Lomenin sipped at a mug of beer. The battle-map was partially rolled up, and on the low table stood a tall, golden goblet of fine Vadal wine beside a bowl of blue grapes.

  Saerileth had not touched the wine. She smiled, inhaling its bouquet. She was not, as some Lotuses were, a particularly skilled sommelier, but she was an accomplished herbalist. She would not be drinking this wine. “It is part of a Lotus’s training, sir.” Saerileth plucked a grape from the cluster. She twirled the grape between her fingers, knowing that the general’s eyes were fixed on her. “We are taught to speak, read, and write in Zenji, Sunjaa, Vadal, and even Ausir.”

  “Ausir? That is no mean feat.” General Lomenin helped himself to grapes. “But you speak without accent, as natively as I do. How is this?”

  “We are taught from our youth. A Lotus is given to the guild no later than the age of five, and we are given native tutors in every subject. We also never play.”

  “And what about now?” The general took another pull at his beer. “You don’t play now?”

  “Now, sir, I am a woman, not a child. Captain Darien’s concubine.”

  “And if it wouldn’t lead to war, I’d probably take you for myself. Not as a concubine, of course. You’re a Red Lotus. You deserve more than that.”

  Saerileth popped the grape into her mouth. She was relieved. After the drugged wine, she had feared worse from the general. As it was, she calculated he had hoped for no more than a quick romp with a girl not quite able to think clearly. “I am content where I am, sir, and it is as well you recognize that the theft of me would lead to war.”

  “But are all the other Lotuses like you?” asked the general. His beer was gone, and he refilled his mug. “So educated? Polished? Beautiful?”

  “All Lotuses are beautiful,” said Saerileth at once. “But the level of skill a Lotus has can be determined by her status within the guild.” She held out her left arm, revealing the tattoo of a fully open red lotus. “I am a full-blown Red Lotus. I have attained the highest rank within the guild, but I am no more trained or skillful than any other full-blown Lotus.”

  “So if I were to go to the – what do they call those Zenji islands?”

  “It is only one island, sir, and it is called the Dimadan.”

  “If I were to go to the Dimadan, I would be able to buy a Lotus?”

  “Perhaps.” Saerileth picked up the goblet and began to run her forefinger around the rim. “But there are no guarantees, and the fees are enormous. It costs more than many men’s fortunes to rent a Lotus for an evening. And even then, sir, you must woo her, if you wish to bed her.”

  “What?” The general’s shock was plain in his wide eyes.

  “Yes, a Lotus – even a purchased one – has absolute rights of refusal. She must be wooed, but I have never heard of any man complaining. A Lotus’s company is in itself an honor.”

  “I can well understand that. So it’s just a matter of money, then?” asked General Lomenin.

  “No, sir. Money is required, of course, in copious amounts, but that is only the beginning. It costs much even to obtain an interview with the guildmaster.” Saerileth’s mind darted back to Ulen Ahnok’s interview, the one at which he had purchased her. “And the guildmaster requires good birth, well-bred manners, and much remaining wealth, even after the purchase price, to accept an applicant. Very few Lotuses are purchased. The bar is simply too high.”

  “But the captain managed it.”

  Saerileth did not want to be the one to ruin the alliance, and she knew she would if the general spoke a word against Darien. So she interrupted him. “My Master obtained me by salvage rights on the open sea. He did not interview for me, of course, for if he had, I would not have become his concubine, merely his Lotus.” She knew, of course, that Darien would not have made it past the first screening. He was of common birth, and no Lotus would ever be sold to a commoner.

  “Captain Darien is a lucky man.” The general sighed. “And I expect I will try to get a Lotus for myself after all this is over. Seeing you makes a man feel young again.”

  Saerileth laughed, making the response she knew the general expected. “You are not so old, sir.” In truth, she put him at perhaps forty years of age, only four years Darien’s senior.

  “Old enough to be your father, though.” General Lomenin shook his head. “I’d expect the captain’s nigh my age, too.”

 
Saerileth nodded but made no verbal reply. Instead, she surreptitiously began to pour the wine onto the earthen floor of the tent.

  “If Lord Itenu made it out, he should be back soon.”

  “Yes, sir.” Saerileth set the now-empty goblet back on the table. “But ‘soon’ might still be later than I should like to wait. I will retire to my Master’s tent to wait Lord Itenu’s return.” She watched the general’s reaction closely, despite her half-lowered eyelids. A flash of disappointment was his only response, and he rose to bow her out.

  But Kamen’s voice outside the tent immobilized both of them.

  “Is the Lotus within? I must speak with her, as well as the general.” Kamen’s accented Vadal was clearer than Darien’s.

  At the affirmative reply, Kamen swept into the tent. “Lotus. General.” Kamen bowed slightly, and Saerileth saw a dangerous glint in his eye. Something had changed in him.

  “So you return unkilled.” The general gestured to one of the canvas camp chairs, but Kamen did not take the offered seat. Instead, the Sunjaa dropped three scroll-cases onto the table.

  “Some of the records are in Zenji,” said Kamen. “I couldn’t read them, but from the others, I assumed they would be pertinent.”

  Saerileth began to unfasten the scroll as General Lomenin spoke.

  “How did you find the city? How are they fixed for provisions? Are they speaking in favor of Ulen Ahnok? Is he accounted the true king?”

  Kamen glanced at Saerileth, and she caught the expression of wry amusement. “I was able to speak with Ulen Ahnok.”

  Saerileth read over the first scroll as Kamen spoke of entering the city, of the gathered knots puzzled and anxious of men, but of there being no difference in the markets from any other time.

  “Ulen has no fear of the siege,” said Kamen. “He has the port free, and the Zenji ships keep it so.”

  “And this shows why.” Saerileth felt the blood in her ears, but she kept her breath even, not betraying her recognition of the names. “Ulen Ahnok has, according to these documents, been trading solely with the Chamri clan.”