Kilig the Sword

by Barbara G. Tarn

  "Ha! This shows how much you know him!" Tushar retorted. "Even if he didn't make a pass at you doesn't mean he won't!"

  "Stop throwing mud on your friends to impress me!" Sunil snapped. "I don't want you nor anybody else, so stay away from me!"

  He turned his back on Tushar and stomped to his own bed, fuming. He heard Tushar mutter a curse and Bishma warn him with a calm "Tushar..."

  Sunil went to bed upset and couldn't sleep. Was there any truth in Tushar's words? Of course Girish wasn't a saint – Sunil knew he'd had lovers of both sexes, he'd heard the gossip and Girish himself had mentioned it a couple of times – but had he really fallen for him? If Tushar behaved with Girish like he did with him, it wasn't surprising Girish had lost his patience. It didn't mean anything.

  The next day flowed slower than ever and Sunil couldn't concentrate on what he was doing. He took a beating during practice with blunt weapons and failed his afternoon test, earning a gentle scolding from Bhai Pyar, who taught history and literature.

  Finally he could retire to the temple for his hour of meditation and, thank the Goddess, Girish was already there. Sunil knelt next to him trying to ignore Girish's welcoming smile.

  He sent a brief prayer to Zindagi – Inspire me to say the right words – then whispered, "Tushar says you fight for my honor."

  "Nah, I was just sick of him," Girish answered with a shrug. Sunil glanced at him, but couldn't decipher his thoughtful smile.

  He sighed, disappointed. So Girish had no real feelings for him.

  "Don't listen to Tushar," Girish said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He's just a son of a bitch who doesn't deserve your attention."

  "I tend to ignore him, except when he walks up to me and starts throwing mud on everybody," Sunil muttered.

  "Well, only the monks are clean in here," Girish said. "Until we get ordained, we all have plenty of sins to answer for. Especially me and Tushar."

  "I don't think you're perfect, but you're not as bad as him either," Sunil said.

  Girish scoffed. "I'm not Bhai Muskurana," he retorted. "Not yet, maybe never."

  Sunil's heart started beating faster. Was his adoration for his teacher so obvious? But surely Girish knew Bhai Muskurana would never touch him...

  "Leave me alone," Girish said, averting his eyes. His smile was gone.

  Incredulous and upset, Sunil obeyed. He glared at the statue of the Goddess who obviously inspired in him the wrong words and went to sit in the courtyard, trying to calm down with meditation.

  ***

  Girish had turned eighteen and Sunil was close to sixteen. He still had no idea if the young nobleman felt something for him or not.

  An open day saw the families visiting the school – the colorful clothes of women mingling with the rainbow vestments of the students. Sunil saw Girish's noble father and his haughty wife, but the young nobleman was nowhere to be seen. Sunil excused himself from his mother and Rohini – who gladly joined Bishma and his family – and went looking for the brooding beau.

  Girish sat in the quiet of the empty temple as usual. Noises from the crowded courtyard covered his soft humming of a song. He was kneeling and had his eyes closed, so maybe he was praying – for patience, for guidance, for who knew what.

  Sunil knelt next to him and waited for the end of the song – not a religious song now that he was close enough to hear it. One of Maya the Belly-dancer's songs.

  Girish opened his eyes and looked at Sunil.

  "Why are you here? Your family didn't show up?"

  "My father never comes." Sunil shrugged. "Rohini is with Bishma and my mother is probably talking to her future in-laws. I saw your family, but I also noticed your absence, so I came looking for you."

  "You're kind, but I don't want to see them," Girish replied with the quiet that usually invaded him after he sung. "I saw my mother yesterday. She's in town and she came to visit. She hasn't forgotten me."

  "How could she forget a son like you?" Sunil blurted out. Then he blushed and averted his eyes. "Why don't you join the happy crowd? My sister is taken, but there are plenty of other girls..."

  Girish chuckled. "Come on, Sunil, you know you're the one that I want."

  Sunil stared incredulous at Girish's grin. It was the first time Girish expressed his feelings, although they were probably already evident in his behavior towards him. Sunil was the only one allowed near him. Tushar had been beaten when he'd tried to get into Girish's pants. Maybe it wasn't totally obvious, but yes, it was there, and Sunil had felt it deep inside. That was why he'd kept sitting or kneeling next to the young lord in the cool quiet of the temple.

  "Go now, Sunil," Girish continued tenderly. "You better stay away from me for the time being. I could lose control if you keep staring at me with your big doe eyes."

  Sunil couldn't move, spellbound by the words and the gentle stare. He wanted that young man as much as he'd wanted Bhai Muskurana – and Girish hadn't taken a chastity vow.

  Girish hugged him. "Go now, or you won't get rid of me – ever," he whispered in his ear.

  "But I want to be with you!" he protested, holding Girish tight.

  Girish pulled away to look him in the eyes. He caressed Sunil's cheek that still kept some childhood roundness and didn't need shaving every day, thoughtful.

  "Not here," he whispered, grabbing Sunil's hand.

  They both jumped to their feet and rushed to a little side-room where the priests kept their vestments. Girish pushed Sunil against the wall and started kissing him hungrily.

  Sunil returned the kiss on his tiptoes, since Girish was taller than him. And then they undressed each other, touching, kissing, tasting and giving vent to their youthful passion. Then they lay on the cold floor, holding each other tight.

  "I love you, Girish."

  "Love you too, Sunil..."

  ***

  The fact that Girish didn't sleep in a dormitory proved useful. His room was very small – a monk's cell with a cot, a basin and a chamber pot – but still allowed some privacy.

  "Why do you want to be alone in the temple as well, when you have this little haven?" Sunil asked him one day as they rested on the floor after some wild sex that would have broken the cot.

  "I like the temple, it's peaceful," Girish answered, caressing Sunil's hair. "Why don't you join the choir? You've changed voice now, I'm sure you could add something."

  "Oh, no, I can't sing!" Sunil chuckled, embarrassed. "Besides, I prefer listening to you."

  A knock on the door startled them, and the door opened without waiting for Girish's permission. Tushar's face appeared, briefly surprised – but he recovered faster than the lovers.

  "I thought you'd be here, Girish, but not with Sunil!" Tushar said, sarcastic. "Our little assassin couldn't resist you! Do you have an idea of how many boys he's screwed, including me, pretty boy?"

  Sunil clenched his teeth under Tushar's stare, feeling his cheeks burn. Girish jumped to his feet and started beating Tushar like a fury – the dangerous young man Sunil had detected at the very beginning was showing himself.

  Sunil was so startled by Girish's dark side, he didn't react immediately. But seeing Tushar bleed under Girish's fists, he snapped back into action.

  "Girish, stop! You can't kill him!"

  Girish glared at him, but let go of Tushar, who collapsed, breathless and bruised.

  "Stay away from me," Girish whispered threateningly.

  Tushar shot him a hateful glance and managed to get up. He limped out of the room while Girish opened and closed his fists, ready to hit again if Tushar didn't get out of the way.

  Sunil exhaled and squeezed Girish's arm. Girish sighed and turned to face him, but couldn't sustain his gaze.

  "I'm not like he says," he began hesitantly.

  "I know." Sunil smiled, relieved. Evil Girish had vanished again. His beloved relaxed only slightly.

  "I've had boys," he admitted. "I was bored. But I never fell in love until I met you. I mean, with the others I did
n't wait for months before..."

  "I know." Sunil squeezed Girish's hands. "I've seen what you've done for me. And that's why I fell in love with you."

  Girish took him in his arms and gave him a passionate kiss. Their happiness was clouded by the shadow of vindictive Tushar.

  ***

  The next day both were called into the abbot's office. Tushar had obviously told him where he got his bruises and why.

  "Girish, why did you beat up Tushar again?"

  "Because he came uninvited to my room," Girish answered promptly.

  "Apparently you're using your privilege to do things that aren't allowed within these walls," Bhai Sundar replied.

  "Well, I'm bored. So yes, I take boys to my room. You know it, but you don't do anything about it. Just tell Tushar to stay away from me and I won't touch him again."

  "You're not supposed to touch Sunil either," the abbot retorted. "You will get married as soon as you finish your studies. I don't think your father wants you to waste time with same-sex love."

  Girish scoffed. "So? Are you going to discipline me? Put me in Sunil's dormitory – but transfer Tushar to the other one!"

  "Girish!" the abbot chided.

  Sunil didn't know what to say. It was a fight between the abbot and the young nobleman, and it looked like Girish wanted to be thrown out of the school. But what about me? What will I do if you leave?

  Bhai Sundar looked at him. "Sunil, you don't want your father to learn about this. Go back to your classroom and forget about it. Remember it's forbidden to have sex within these walls. Try to find someone out of here."

  Sunil gulped and nodded. He glanced at Girish, but his beloved was brooding, looking towards the window. The abbot shooed him out and he left the office with a lump in his throat.

  He saw Girish again in the canteen and sat next to him in the noisy room. Girish was in a bad mood, but Sunil must know the outcome of the meeting with the abbot.

  "So, what punishment did he give you?" he whispered, worried.

  "Tomorrow I should go back home." Girish frowned at his plate. "So I'm leaving tonight. I'm not going back to that palace."

  "But where will you go?" Sunil protested.

  "Hush!" Girish glared at him. "Just forget me, will you?"

  "But I love you!"

  Girish put his hand over Sunil's mouth.

  "Our love is doomed. Just forget me," he said sourly.

  Sunil nodded, but his eyes filled with tears. He doubted he would forget. Not now, not ever. Unless time and Zindagi mended his broken heart.

  ***

  Less than a month later, Tushar walked up to Sunil with his usual smirk. They were in the courtyard, preparing for practice.

  "Hey, pretty boy, so you got your lover killed, huh?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," Sunil answered coldly.

  "Aw, come on! Girish de Sayek was found dead next to Maya the Belly-dancer – an assassin's job. You asked your family to kill him because he dumped you for a woman, didn't you?"

  Sunil's heart had missed a beat at the first sentence and now it went so fast he feared it might explode. Girish was dead? Murdered? With his mother?

  Except nobody knew Maya was his mother – except his noble father – so Sunil clenched his teeth at Tushar's assumption that Girish had become Maya's lover.

  "I haven't heard from Girish since he left the school and certainly didn't ask my family to get rid of him," he answered bluntly, trying to tone down Tushar's gloating. "It was probably his father who ordered to either bring him home or kill him."

  Tushar scoffed. "So you're heartbroken at the news of his violent demise."

  "I'm surprised, that's for sure. Since you're so well informed, though, you might be the one who sought revenge."

  His heart had already broken when Girish had left, telling him to forget him. Not that he'd forgotten. And since Girish had been killed by an assassin, he could find out who did it and why – but wouldn't tell Tushar.

  Tushar grabbed his chin. "I don't care what happens to his lordship," he whispered threateningly. "I only want you to give me what you gave him."

  "Not even if you pay me," Sunil spat, slapping Tushar's hand away. "Hands off, or I'll ask my family to get rid of you."

  Tushar clenched his teeth and glared at him, but backed away.

  Bishma joined Sunil.

  "What did Tushar want? Will he be your sparring partner today?"

  "No, he wants to be my bed partner," Sunil muttered. "Bishma, heard about Girish?"

  Bishma turned very serious. "Yes, the news is making the rounds just now. Strangled in the house he shared with Maya the Belly-dancer. Nobody knows why he shunned his father's palace to live with a woman so much older than him. I mean, she's beautiful, but she could be his mother!"

  She is his mother Sunil thought, lowering his eyes. Oh, Girish, who decided you didn't deserve to live?

  "Let's go, Sunil," Bishma said. "Sorry Tushar told you before I could. I know you and Girish had become close friends."

  You have no idea how close. Sunil gulped down the lump in his throat and followed his friend into the practice space. But he was distracted and sad and furious, so Bhai Muskurana soon told him to get out of the practice arena and do one hour of meditation instead.

  But kneeling in the temple knowing that Girish was dead hurt even more. At least he could cry over the death of his first love, unseen.

  ***

  On the following day off, instead of going to his mother's, he went straight to the Guild. He knocked on the Head's office, steeling himself for the confrontation.

  Nimcha was his father's firstborn, from his first wife who went past childbearing age after giving birth to Nikhil. Khopesh had named him Head of the Guild at twenty-four, before leaving with Shamsher to go to Godwalkar for some mysterious business.

  When he'd come back, he'd announced he wanted to start a new assassins' school with Shamsher, and had taken Sunil and Nikhil with him to the camp in the ruins. Sunil had had enough of Nikhil during those years, so he had avoided Nimcha while in Agharek – except this time he wanted answers.

  "Look what we've got here today!" Nimcha greeted him with a smirk. "You've grown up, Sunil. You've put on muscles. Those monks must be tough! How many years of training do you still have?"

  Nimcha was in his thirties and his hair was receding, so he stared with envy at Sunil's head. Sunil kept his hair short, but being sixteen he had a lot more than his older half-brother.

  "About five," Sunil lied coldly. He didn't want Nimcha to know he'd been good enough to skip two classes. Besides, the loss of Girish was impacting his learning ability at the moment, and he might lose a year if he didn't gather his wits as soon as possible. "I have a question. Who did Girish de Sayek?"

  "Why do you want to know?" Nimcha retorted.

  "Because I knew him and I want to know why he was killed," Sunil answered through clenched teeth.

  "The why is easy. His father decided he was a worthless heir and got rid of him. I don't even know why he bothered taking him in in the first place, since his wife always resented the little bastard. So you met Girish at the school?"

  "Yes." Sunil glared at Nimcha. "Who did him?"

  "What do you care?" Nimcha snapped. "The work was paid for by his father. Does the hand matter?"

  "Since I'm being accused by brainless schoolmates of being the sender, I'd like to know who to blame," Sunil replied bluntly. "Not that I intend to tell the asshole which assassin did it, but at least I can tell him it wasn't a family member."

  Nimcha scoffed. "But he is," he said, sarcastic. "He earned his assassin's name with that job."

  Sunil's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

  "Nikhil. You must call him Chakram from now on."

  "Nikhil is here?" Sunil blurted out, furious.

  "No, Chakram has gone back north with Shamsher and our father," Nimcha answered, bored. "They brought him here only for the final exam. I'm curious, though. What are they doing in the ruins
of Leland?"

  "Running a secret assassins' school," Sunil grumbled, averting his eyes. Nikhil had killed Girish to earn his assassin's name. Thank the goddess none of them knows Girish used to be my lover. Oh, Girish, I wish to join you and your mother as soon as possible!

  "And they don't want you there?" Nimcha mocked.

  "I'm on assignment," Sunil snapped. "For our father. And it's none of your business."

  He stormed out of his brother's office and left the Guild's building to go back to the monastery. The temple welcomed him with its silence, but the statue of the goddess couldn't stop his tears.

  4.

  Sunil used the school year break to go back to his father's camp. He'd performed badly during the last months because he was upset about Girish's death and the abbot had gently chided him suggesting he used the break to figure out what he really wanted.

  And Sunil wanted to beat Nikhil to death. Since this was contrary to Zindagi's teachings, then he wouldn't be admitted to the sixth year if he killed someone in cold blood. He must see his brother before he could decide what to do. So he took the barge alone, determined to confront his brother – and his father if necessary.

  He reached the camp after a week, so he didn't have much time to stay. Going downriver was faster, but he couldn't spend more than a couple of nights in the camp. Not that he intended to.

  He noticed Shamsher's tent was gone and the camp looked smaller. Maybe his father had sent some men on assignment or back to the towns.

  Frowning, he entered his father's tent, startling the patriarch who was seated on the carpet with parchments spread around him, dealing with requests and other administrative matters. As far as Sunil knew, his brothers still needed to report to him even if they were the official Heads of the Guild – Nimcha in Agharek, Pata in Akulina and Kriss in Lakresha.

  "Sunil!" His father grinned. "You've grown up! Where does that stubble come from?"

  "I'm sixteen, Father," Sunil reminded him bluntly.

  Khopesh chuckled. "Testy as ever! So, have you finished your studies?"

  "Not yet, a few more years to go." Again, Sunil remained vague on purpose. He honestly had no idea if he'd lose a year of if he'd manage to finish at all. He loved the monks school, had found friends and trusted teachers, but he knew the abbot wouldn't let him come back if he killed someone in cold blood. And he wouldn't tell a lie to the good man who had been nicer to him than his own father ever was.