He didn’t realize that he was witnessing something rarely seen in Nazil: the ritual killing dance of the Chosen. The high white walls of the city, coupled with the cold ferocity of the Chosen Guards, had insulated the city from the strange inhabitants of the lands. The very appearance of the intruder was enough to raise an alarm. Through years, the discipline of the highly trained Chosen coalesced into a ritual torture of the intruders culminating in death. Pentanimir could see the almost feverish cast in the guard’s eyes as they reveled in the blood lust that their wordless approach excited in them.
By now, the circle was almost drawn around the prey. Pentanimir had unconsciously held his breath—out of a mixture of fear and admiration for the heroic soldiers—for so long that he was becoming light-headed. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had started to walk from his home toward the temple in anticipation of meeting his father, who was the First Chosen, and expected to be off duty soon. He almost never ventured into the city center near the Kadul, at least not without his parents. His boyish curiosity had gotten the better of him this afternoon as he approached without seeing his father, until he found himself trapped under the outer porch. Pentanimir breathed deeply and as quietly as he could. He could smell the aromatic cedar of his cover, mixed with the stench of fear and sweat.
The ritual dance had come to a pause, right before the guards would start to torture the savage with the sharp tips of their Xtabyren. Pentanimir didn’t know it, but by this time, the victim was almost too terror-stricken to move or think, if indeed these inferior beings had the capacity for thought.
The guards were looking forward to his futile attempts to break past their circled ranks, which with every rush would result in a slash to an eye, ear, or one of his extremities. Just as they tightened their grips on their swords, the intruder suddenly rose up to his full height, which Pentanimir could see was much taller than many of the guard. With a start, he recognized the guard in front was his father, Manifir. The savage and Manifir stood less than an arm’s breadth apart, with Manifir’s Xtabyren drooping from the formal attack posture. In the motionless silence, he could see both faces. He could see an expression of peace and completion in the savage’s eyes, while his father’s visage was full of confusion that seemed capable of yielding to uncontrollable rage. Pentanimir was frightened by his father—he couldn’t understand the emotions that played across Manifir’s face.
The death dance is a silent affirmation of the natural preeminence of the Nazilians over all others in the lands. But now the unthinkable was playing out. The savage’s discipline and peace seemed to be fighting its own battle against the blood lust of the guards. Although he was outnumbered, he seemed to be winning. As Pentanimir looked on incredulously, almost all of the tips of the Xtabyrens were dropping lower. Manifir appeared entranced by the peaceful expression now so clearly visible on the intruder’s face. His eyes looked over him with a familiarity.
Pentanimir had never seen him so open, so not in control. The savage lowered his hands to his sides and smiled earnestly into Manifir’s face. Slowly, he tilted his head in a gesture of respect, all the while looking into the other man’s icy eyes.
“AvHotther,” the savage whispered in a tongue he didn’t understand. “Father.”
Pentanimir saw his father’s appearance change in one terrifying instant. The killing dance was forgotten, as were the ritual slashes and jabs that preceded the death strokes. Even the other guards drew back in unconscious fear from the First Chosen. His Xtabyren swept up and back down in a glint of silver that tore through the savage’s left side and shoulder. The man rocked for a moment, then fell straight backward into the patch of cedar where Pentanimir was hiding. The boy looked down into his eyes, which were still open. His mouth gaped, seeing the eyes of Nazil staring back at him. Still, he projected an expression of peace and rest, as if a purpose had been fulfilled. He looked into Pentanimir’s face, with a look of recognition and whispered, “Brother,” with his final gasp.
Pentanimir struggled to tear his eyes away from the dead face next to him. Manifir was kneeling on one knee, with his arms crossed over the other, and his face buried in his arms.
“Crissu,” Manifir said, stifling a surge of emotion. He lifted his head, looking directly at Pentanimir, who saw a mixture of anguish, confusion, and self-loathing more disturbing than anything he’d ever dreamed in his young life.
“Father, no,” Pentanimir shouted, springing up from his bed. His face was sweat-soaked as he gazed around his room, his mind clawing out of disorientation. Returning to the present, his breathing calmed, but the images remained.
He turned to a small shelf against the wall, staring at the figurines for a moment before picking one up. Running his fingertip over the etchings in the smooth, dark wood, he said, “The god of power.” His smile was wistful, replacing the figurine on the shelf and thinking of the day that his father had gifted them to Danimore and him. The same father who slew his son.
Pentanimir walked to the basin, hoping the cool water would remove the vision from his mind. “Crissu,” he said, never wanting to forget the name.
“Brother, are you all right?” Danimore asked, opening the door to his room.
Pentanimir stumbled toward his bed, burying his face in his hands. “All right? It’s been years since that could be so. No matter how much I wish it otherwise, some ghosts will forever haunt me.”
“Ghosts? Speak plainly, Pentanimir, so that I might understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to share my nightmares with you. If it were so, we’d both suffer the same. This burden is mine alone.”
“Pentanimir, you said that we only have each other. If that’s true, why won’t you share this with me?”
“It is true. However, the images that haunt my dreams are nothing I wish to share. They’re ghosts of a young boy—visions I wish to remove from my mind—yet will always remain.”
Pentanimir walked back to the basin, wanting to move past the ghosts that haunted him. As he looked into the mirror, he removed his wet tunic, grabbing his jerkin and trews. When he began pulling on his jerkin, Zeta walked into the room, gasping. For a moment, she stared wide-eyed, and then averted her eyes.
“Apol—apologies, Pentanimir. I didn’t know—that is, I came to ask what you wanted to eat.”
“The fault is mine,” he said, turning and pulling on his trews to cover his nakedness. “The door should’ve been closed. I’d like some eggs and that fried bread that you make. I can’t seem to get enough of it.”
Zeta nodded, smiling over at Danimore. “And what do you desire this morning?”
His cheeks reddened. “I’ll have the same, Zeta, thank you.”
“As you wish,” she said, smiling and leaving them alone.
Pentanimir glanced from one to the other, closing the door as she moved down the hall.
“Dani, do you have something to tell me?”
“What? Uhm…no, there’s nothing to tell.”
Pentanimir laughed aloud. “You were never able to speak false to me, Dani. Your face is as red as a cherry. Truly, you should just tell me about you and Zeta. It’s obvious that you’re hiding something.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, Dani, it’s me. I’m not judging you, I’m merely curious. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you like this. Is it Zeta?”
“Yes,” he relented. “I—we—I—well, I did as you suggested, and she was pleased.”
“Ho ho! Tell me about it,” he said with eager eyes.
“What? I can’t talk about that. It’s enough to know that we were, well, intimate.”
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. How else to know if you’ve done everything you should? Making love is a delicate thing and can’t be rushed. Did you, well, you know, were you pleased, too?”
“I really don’t want to discuss it. I wasn’t seeking pleasure for myself, only for Zeta.”
“Do you mean that you still haven’t joined with her?”
“No. Does this satisfy your curiosity?”
“Dani, I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m glad that you and Zeta have become close. Evenso, I understand that it’s difficult. Zeta has suffered in Nazil and she’s pregnant. Have you thought about what you want to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Zeta’s our attendant, and will deliver a child in less than two full moons. You know what’s done with most children of a blended heritage. Have you been considering a way to protect her and the child?”
Danimore sighed. It was easier for him not to think of what was to come. Howbeit, avoiding the situation wasn’t going to free them from the consequences. It was time to put actual thought into protecting Zeta and her child.
“I don’t know. If she were just an attendant, things could be different. But since she’s a human captive, that complicates everything. The Zaxson knows about her condition and Uncle will certainly be spying. How am I supposed to keep them safe? Bringing her here only delayed what’s to come. I lack the position and the power to protect her fully, and fear that I might fail.”
“We’ll do all that we can to keep them safe. There may yet be options, Dani. But you’ll have to consider what you’re willing to forego or risk for their safety.”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep them safe.” He sighed, his troubled visage portraying both sincerity and despondency.
“I think that I’ve fallen in love with her. It wasn’t what I intended,” Danimore said, quickly. “I swear on my honor that I didn’t bring her here for pleasure. But now, it’s a strange thing, I not only care for Zeta, but also for her babe.”
He shook his head, slamming his hands down in frustration. “What’s happening to me? I’ve lost control of my feelings.”
“Dani, you needn’t swear to me. I know your heart, and you’re right to fear and to question. What you propose is a dangerous thing. The only way to keep them safe would be to leave Nazil far behind. In doing so, you’d become an enemy of the city that you love. You must be certain that Zeta is who you truly desire above anyone and anything else.”
“My desire for her is boundless. It’s not her great beauty or anything so frivolous. It’s her, who she is. I could spend a lifetime in her company and never grow tired. Still, I don’t see how we could leave. Even if we attempted to live in the human villages, I’d be seen for what I am. Mayhaps in Mahlum, Kumasi, Leahcim or even Spero we could live in peace, but eyes would always be upon us. I could never freely show my love for her.”
“Dani, tell me true: do you want Zeta because you’ve never experienced another woman?”
He was insulted by the accusation and his visage portrayed the same. “Brother, you said that you knew my heart. If that’s all I wanted, I could’ve had that from not only her, but numerous others. I didn’t join with her because I didn’t want to. Physical gratification is easy, what I’m speaking of is much greater.”
“Please, Dani, I only posed the question to have you consider the possibility. You’ve never been pleasured by a woman, and at times, we can mistake such satisfaction for love. I wasn’t questioning your heart.”
“I wanted Zeta to know the pleasure of making love,” Danimore said. “I didn’t know that while pleasing her, I’d experience it, too. It was like nothing that I’ve ever known, Brother, and I owe you much for this.”
“It was only my words. It was your willingness and desire that made it so. Now, let us join your young lady and break our fast. Uncle will arrive soon, and I’d like Zeta in her room when he does.”
“I agree. He seems intent upon degrading the both of us. Only you are immune from his scorn.”
“No, not immune. He’s using me to further his own position and prominence. Trust, he makes it known when I’ve displeased him,” Pentanimir said, continuing to the kitchen.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you,” Zeta giggled, setting plates of eggs on the table. “I was coming to fetch you soon. The eggs have just finished, and the bread is nice and warm. Do you want some honey milk?”
“I’d prefer some tea,” Pentanimir said as Danimore nodded.
“Zeta, one day you’ll have to show me how to make this bread,” Pentanimir said, stuffing a large piece in his mouth.
“Well, I can show you at any time. Though, you probably won’t do much cooking after you’ve wed.”
Pentanimir stopped chewing, dropping his spoon on his plate.
“Uhm, Zeta,” Danimore said. “It’s best not to speak about such things. Pentanimir has enough on his mind without reminders of what can’t be changed. Besides, you’ll need to be ready for when Hushar comes. Let’s finish our meal so that you can ready yourself. We’d like you in your room before our uncle arrives.” He gently squeezed her hand while glancing at Pentanimir from the corner of his eye.
Pentanimir looked up at her and exhaled heavily. “Zeta, I’m not angry with you. It’s past time that I truly accept this. I can’t show disappointment when someone mentions my pledge. You shouldn’t feel shame for what you said, I’m ashamed at my response. Please, enjoy your meal, it’s delicious, as always.”
Zeta smiled, but when she lifted her cup, a hard thumping sounded from the door. As she raised to answer it, Danimore grasped her arm.
“Dani, if it’s your uncle, he’ll expect your servant to respond. Please allow me to do my duties. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
Danimore relented, but followed her. When she opened the door, Hushar was standing behind Oxilon.
Wearing his usual scowl, Oxilon removed his cloak, tossing it at Zeta. When Danimore stepped forward, Pentanimir gripped his shoulder, holding him in place.
“Greetings, Uncle,” Pentanimir said. “Would you like to join us for morning meal?”
“I broke my fast some time ago. Mayhaps if you had a competent slave, you, too, would break your fast at a proper time.”
“This time suits us. Pentanimir and I wanted to remain abed this morning and Zeta was kind to keep everything warm for us.”
“Kind? She’s supposed to do what you command. She should’ve brought your meal to you if you were too tired to leave your chamber.”
“Uncle, we don’t need to eat in our room. This is something for old men and the infirm. We are neither.” Pentanimir chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
Oxilon merely glared at him, moving into the kitchen. “You allow a slave to eat at your table? You do all you can to dishonor us. If this doesn’t cease, I’ll speak to Draizeyn and have the doxy moved to my house. There, she’ll learn her place. What if one of the guards had come to deliver a message? You would’ve brought shame and dishonor upon all of us,” he said, and then gestured to Hushar. “And what of this? Why is the Zaxson’s slave visiting your home? We don’t offer care to whores or their abominations. Have you both lost all wit?”
As the tears streamed down Zeta’s cheeks, Danimore’s hands balled into fists. He moved toward his uncle, but Pentanimir nudged him toward the corridor.
“Dani, mayhaps you can show Hushar where we keep our herbs and oils. I’m certain that she’ll want to tend Zeta quickly and return to the citadel.”
Danimore’s jaw clenched, motioning down the hall. As they disappeared, Pentanimir turned to his uncle, his smile fading.
“Uncle, it isn’t for you to come and order us in our home. We respect and honor you, as did our father, but you’ll not offer insult to anyone under the protection of our roof again.”
“Do you think to tell me what I can and cannot speak to a slave?”
“I mean no disrespect, but we’re both men grown. How we choose to treat our attendants isn’t your concern. Zeta is with child and needs proper care. We can’t afford to have her here unable to work. The Zaxson agreed to allow Hushar to tend to her. He understands that an ill attendant has no value. I would think you’d understand the same.”
“I’m not daft, Nephew. I know the slaves need care. Hells, I have eight who tend my home. However, that doesn’t include
taking a meal at my table. That human whore is far beneath anyone in Nazil and should be treated as such.” Oxilon turned, shaking his head. “Why your brother chose the whore of the seas to serve in this home is unfathomable. It gives him great pleasure to vex me.”
“I’m certain that Dani didn’t consider your feelings when selecting Zeta. The Zaxson had no need of her, and we did. She keeps a fine home and prepares delicious meals. Why does she raise such ire in you?”
“It’s of no matter. Once you’re wed, at least you’ll be free of such dishonor. There’s much talk in the city regarding the whore. I’ve even heard tell of her buying fine clothes at the market. She’s treated like a wife rather than a slave.”
“No, Uncle, she’s treated like a person,” Pentanimir snapped.
Oxilon glowered, taking a seat on the divan. “As you say, Pentanimir. Danimore’s taste in women is that of your father.”
My father? Pentanimir thought, peering over at him.
“I’ll waste no more thought on the whore. We have important matters to discuss before we meet with the Zaxson. So, let us tend to business and speak of slaves no more.”
When Danimore heard their conversation shift, he rejoined Zeta and Hushar. “How do you find her?”
“She’s doing fine, Sir Benoist. But I feel her babe might come sooner than we thought.”
“Sooner? What makes you think so?”
“The last I tended her, the babe’s position was much higher. It’s moving downward now. She’s gotten a lot bigger, too. Mayhaps within a full moon she’ll be giving birth.”
“I hope it’s a boy, Dani, just as you said.” Zeta smiled.
“As do I,” he said, resting a hand on her abdomen. “Are you certain the babe’s coming so soon?”
“No one can know for sure, milord, but I believe so. I’ve birthed many babes in my time, and this one seems near ready.”
“If it’ll be that soon, I hope we can complete this duty quickly. I don’t want you here alone when you deliver. I’ll be back, I must speak with Pentanimir.”
The Rise of Nazil Page 22