Taji From Beyond the Rings

by R. Cooper

  A piece of beje fell to the ground. Trenne picked it up and set it on the table before Taji could reach for it. Taji made a face in protest. He’d traveled through space; dirt and germs weren’t going to hurt him. Trenne got him another slice nevertheless and kept the other one beyond Taji’s reach.

  The murmur became more distinct, like excited chatter. Trenne tightened his hand on Taji’s hip. Taji dropped his hand to rest over Trenne’s.

  “You can think about histories while in the arms of…” Rinnah paused “While happy?” she finished delicately.

  “The past is present.” Taji flapped his other hand, and realized as he did that he was bordering on intoxicated, and at least half of that was flushed excitement over Trenne’s attention. Love was going to be terrible when he had to give it up, but at least it made him a believable shehzha.

  Quiet answered his remark, because of course, that sort of word play didn’t work in ‘Asha, so Taji had to stop and reconsider. “The past is here, now.” He waved vaguely. Trenne put another slice on his palm. Taji held it up to make Trenne take it because Trenne had eaten less than Taji today and done a lot more. “But language is my area of study and nowhere makes it more obvious than in the words we use. Take ‘Asha. It has its variations—accents and regional words and other such things. But overall, it is the same. There is a standard version that probably came into existence about the time that your writing slowly switched from all the lovely symbols to an alphabet. It has changed since then, but not the basics. Not as far as I can tell. Know how I know?”

  He sat up straighter and continued, “Your histories use the same words to describe the noble families that you all use now. You use the same words your ancestors did. That is amazing. That is standard ‘Asha, though,” he added thoughtfully. “What little I have heard of nonstandard ‘Asha suggests the words are still in use but there have been shifts in meaning.” Kahne was closer to a joke now, Trenne had said. If kahne was another word for shehzha, then the lack of reverence mattered, even if Taji didn’t know the reason for it.

  “So many words come out of that mouth,” Larin remarked.

  “Mr. Ameyo is fond of words,” Tsomyal said, as they had often said before.

  “Taji shehzha.” The sound of Koel Eriat sternly correcting the ambassador made Taji jolt and Trenne take a deep breath.

  “Yes, of course,” Tsomyal agreed smoothly. “Taji shehzha.”

  “It is interesting that a society that demands daily public control does not allow eshe to publicly demonstrate any of that. But the honor of the shehzha is more important than the feelings of the eshe. They are powerful, but it is not a display of their power. It is never seen by anyone else. It is the highest responsibility a Shavian can have. And it is private.” Taji sighed. “Forced privacy seems strange to someone like me. But allowed privacy? Privacy as a gift? What an ideal. What an exquisite, fragile ritual to put at the center of your world. The moments you are strongest are not for anyone to see but the ones who are at their weakest. And you do not even brag about it.” Taji thought of Phyta’s shy pride. “You only want them to be happy.”

  Larin set his cup down softly on the table. In the sudden, complete silence, the sound was jarring. “You can always rely on a shehzha for honesty,” Larin commented, gaze on the food in front of him before he looked up.

  Taji blinked and shook his head, then glanced around the room. Tsomyal’s limbs disappeared into their robes. They were worried.

  “Rinnah,” Larin carried on as though nothing was wrong, “what is it like to hear about your future from such an honored shehzha?”

  Rinnah faced Taji but her eyes didn’t meet his. “May all shehzha be so blessed.”

  She’d said that before. It would have felt like an invocation, except that shehzha shouldn’t need help or interference, not even from a deity.

  “Yes,” someone agreed, “a contented shehzha honors us all.”

  Taji turned to see Talfa and Eriat looking at Rinnah.

  At the tables around them were Shavian nobles in fine clothes, their hands still, their ears practically shivering at the quiet.

  “What do you know of shehzha, Talfa?” Larin gestured gracefully for Talfa to speak, and when Talfa didn’t, Larin leaned forward to lazily take a piece of meat. He made a show of chewing and swallowing before he went on. “If you were not half-wild already, Talfa, and not responsible for your actions, I would take your silence to have meaning.”

  “I am Koel Talfa. I have no meaning.” Talfa’s voice did not shake the way Taji’s would have.

  Larin ignored this. “If it were not wise, I would wonder if you or Eriat think there is reason to question the happiness of my shehzha.”

  Taji pulled Trenne’s hand up to cover his mouth. Trenne bent his head, his breath warm against his ear. “Do not,” Trenne tried to soothe him or warn him in the faintest possible whisper but Larin turned sharply toward them.

  That was not control.

  Rinnah must have agreed. “Larin,” she cut in softly.

  “Larin Emperor,” Larin corrected his sister without a glance in her direction. “All this talk of history and words, yet no one can remember this simple fact. Does the presence of offworlders make it less true that I am emperor?” Larin stared just above Taji at Trenne, who said nothing. Larin only looked at Taji when he spoke of humans. “I am Olea, who were here when they first crossed the sea. I am of the Olea who greeted the I.P.T.C.” And killed them, though Larin left that unspoken. “Larin Emperor called this hunt and provided for you. It is my honor, is it not, Rinnah, to give them what they need?”

  Rinnah kept her eyes on her brother. “Yes, Larin Emperor. You have done so.”

  “Without the interference of anyone who presumes to know my role better,” Larin asserted, almost calm again.

  Rinnah put one hand out, then pulled it back to her lap. She took a breath. “Where is Mos, Larin Emperor?”

  “Mos?” Taji asked from behind Trenne’s hand, and pulled it away only to grip it tightly as it sank in that Rinnah genuinely didn’t know where Mos was—but she assumed Larin did. “I…meant to thank her,” he tacked on as though his stomach wasn’t cramping with nerves around the food he’d loved only moment ago. “For the gifts.” He raised his other hand to make the bracelets jangle again.

  “Her gifts but not mine?” Larin demanded.

  Taji gaped for a moment in total confusion. “Were there…oh, is that what we are eating now?” He gestured to the food he had tried and the items he’d had yet to try. “It is delicious so far.”

  He would have eaten anything, but he wasn’t lying. He’d enjoyed it. Surely that was obvious.

  Larin did not seem appeased. “Better than what the hurat and the others of your I.P.T.C. found.”

  “I…” Taji glanced to the others. Lin was practically vibrating and didn’t even seem to notice Rodian’s hand on her arm. Taji didn’t have the diplomatic skills to calm Lin down even if he’d been close to her. He didn’t think Tsomyal did either, though he looked at them in alarm.

  “Taji shehzha already spoke well of the food,” Trenne commented in the same tone he used to break up petty squabbling among the team, calm but uninterested in any further debate. It was a command trick. Also a Shavian one. Taji just hadn’t realized until now where Trenne had first learned it. He excelled at it, even when making himself a target.

  “I did not invite you to speak to me, hurat,” Larin answered, as if answering Trenne wasn’t a giveaway of how angry he truly was. “The weaknesses of shehzha are to be humored or indulged when possible, but this continued obscenity tests my patience.”

  “Obscenity,” Taji echoed, faintly sick. He wondered if the original translator had gotten that word wrong, if sacrilege was closer. But this wasn’t. Not according to their rules.

  “Larin.” Rinnah spoke up again.

  “Larin Emperor,” Eriat corrected her this time, before adding, “should recognize obscenity even when others do not.”

  Tr
enne’s breathing stopped. That, more than anything else, made Taji examine those words through a Shavian lens. They were a challenge.

  “Eriat of the Koel,” Larin almost imperceptibly raised his voice, “do you think to tell me anything when you cannot even control Talfa? I must control all of you. That is what it means to be emperor. Some will never understand. Nikay was one of those.”

  Taji gripped Trenne’s hand so hard that his bones ached. Trenne pulled him closer but Taji could not be calm.

  “What?” Rinnah’s breathless question spoke of genuine surprise and horror. “He was injured?”

  “Nothing could help him,” Larin finished. “I did not tell you then because you would be upset. I know you had your differences, but he had attempted to win you. What a prize an Olea would have been for his ambitions. That is likely why Nikay was reckless and put himself in the path of the kinm. Do not fret, Rinnah. After it had taken Nikay, I killed the beast.”

  After. Such a crucial word. Larin knew the history of the Sha well. Or well enough to suit his purposes.

  “He did not know what it meant to be emperor,” Taji said faintly in Anglisky, “but he thought he did.” Larin had noticed and reacted accordingly.

  One rival down, a room full of them to go. Larin was goading them.

  Larin turned his head toward Taji, though Taji didn’t think Larin had understood him.

  Larin had not had wine. He, Trenne, and Tsomyal might be the only sober people here, except for the Imperial Guards positioned between tables and behind Larin.

  And behind Taji.

  Taji had gotten used to the two always with him. He hadn’t thought to look around at the rest of them. Among all the bright sorias of the noble Sha, the Imperial Guards, in nondescript gray, disappeared in plain sight. But they were everywhere. At the doors and flanking Larin. Behind Rinnah and near the tables and outside the doors as well.

  Taji couldn’t tell if Tsomyal and Trenne had come to the same realization. Taji should have earlier. He’d been a distracted shehzha, exactly what Larin had wanted, if he had spared Taji a thought. Larin had brought everyone here and forced them to participate in the hunt and come very, very close to violating norms that even an emperor should hold dear, all in the hopes of eliminating rivals and malcontents. Either the hunt would kill them or someone would say the wrong thing and give the Guard the excuse they needed. If IPTC was caught in the crossfire, Larin could claim innocence.

  Taji’s mind went terrifyingly blank.

  “Do you need help, little Taji?” Larin asked with almost real concern, most likely so he would have any reason to criticize Trenne. He probably expected Trenne to be the one to lose control first. He did not know Trenne, that was clear. But, of course, there were others, like Eriat, who would defend the honor of a shehzha and eshe regardless of their personal feelings toward humans or hurat.

  Taji was adding to the tensions.

  He twisted around to bury his face in Trenne’s neck and shivered at the warm sweep of Trenne’s hands up his back. “I need you,” he whispered, although everyone would hear and that was the point. The cold knot of shame returned to his stomach, but after terror, that was easy to push aside. “I was stubborn. But I cannot wait now, Trenne.”

  Trenne got to his feet without being remotely hindered by Taji’s weight, but he took the time to set Taji down, to draw Taji’s chin up to get a better look at Taji’s face. “Whatever you need. You know that.”

  “I do,” Taji agreed feverishly and wrapped both his hands around Trenne’s arm so Trenne could lead him away.

  The Guard followed them, except for one, who stepped ahead of them as if to ensure a clear path. Taji met no one’s eyes until they passed Lin, and then only had time for a short warning glance and flick of his fingers for Nadir.

  “What do you suppose a hurat tastes like?” Larin posed the question to someone—or everyone—before Trenne and Taji were out of the room. “Do you think it is normal? Perhaps it is normal for a human.”

  Then they were out of the room and in one of the larger halls.

  The servants would use the tunnels and other entrances to travel to and from wherever the food was prepared. This hall was empty except for them and their escort. In different, and no doubt separate, parts of Laviias, the remainder of Larin’s guests were dining alone, or mourning Nikay, or recovering from wounds.

  Taji clutched Trenne’s arm and released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have—”

  Trenne said, also in Anglisky, “A short while longer, Taji shehzha.”

  To the three members of the Imperial Guard now with them, he might have meant sex. Taji only shook his head tightly because Trenne had no idea how long they were trapped here. But he closed his mouth to keep the rest of his complaints for when the two of them were alone.

  Before the door to their room was closed behind them, Taji was in Trenne’s arms. He wasn’t sure if he had leaped up or if Trenne had lifted him but it didn’t matter. He hid his face against Trenne’s skin and let Trenne carry him to the edge of the bed.

  Taji was shaking. “Warn the others. Not in ‘Asha, not even in plain Anglisky. He wants a scene. Don’t give him one.”

  “Yes,” Trenne agreed, and used his comm to do that. Then Taji didn’t move, taking advantage of Trenne’s kindness to cling to him and try to regain some sort of calm. He was untethered except for Trenne and didn’t know what to blame that on—this place, this planet, wine and capsules, the hormones bubbling through his system, his heart.

  But Trenne brought an arm around him, tugging him closer, and it was so easy to half climb into his lap.

  “You’re not a beast,” Taji assured him, fierce and soft against Trenne’s throat. “Anyone who thinks that is a fool. He made me feel—” Taji shook his head again. “He did it to get at you. Or because he’s paranoid and megalomaniacal. Or…don’t let him.”

  “My shehzha.” Trenne curved a hand to the back of Taji’s neck.

  “We can stay in here,” Taji argued. “Let them call me greedy, I don’t care. We stay in here so he has to find another way to provoke people and we will be safe.”

  “Taji.” Trenne debated with a single word, spoken gently. It was unfair.

  “Please,” Taji tried anyway. He’d never had anything before and he couldn’t have it taken away now. “We’ll be safer here,” he added, although they both knew that wasn’t true.

  As if to prove that, the room shuddered and the floor rocked beneath them.

  In the distance was the sound of an explosion.

  Chapter Twelve

  TRENNE SPOKE into his comm as he pulled a small blaster from one of his bags. He kept it in his hand and used the other to urge Taji behind his back. Trenne spoke Anglisky, but Taji’s heartbeat was so loud in his ears everything was muffled. All he heard was: Location. Status. Now.

  Trenne had the blaster ready to fire, but when he flung open the door, the Guards were looking out and up, not in at Trenne and Taji. They had their hands on their knives.

  Taji shivered, cold, afraid. The hairs stood up on his arms.

  “What is it?” Trenne demanded, coming up short to wait on their answer. Their ears swiveled to and fro, communicating or listening to distant chaos. Trenne didn’t seem to care about them. “Where?” he demanded of his comm, and Taji twisted back toward the room, realizing he didn’t have his.

  Trenne tugged him forward, too strong for Taji to resist. He urged Taji to the wall of stone and Taji followed with only a few surprised stumbles. The Guards stayed with them. Taji regarded them wildly, but other than putting himself between them and Taji, Trenne spared them almost no attention.

  “Get there!” Trenne ordered into his comm, voice raised. Taji couldn’t hear the responses, but the Guards could, if they could understand Anglisky.

  Taji couldn’t tell if everyone was okay. He bit his lip to keep from asking, but he wouldn’t have had a chance, anyway. Trenne stopped too abruptly for it to mean anything good.

&
nbsp; The Guards stopped too, heads turning in unison.

  Sounds echoed from all directions. Concussive waves of blaster fire, humming vibrations of shifting rock, and something that seemed un-Shavian to Taji’s stunned mind. Screaming.

  “It’s carrying through the tunnels,” he realized aloud. “Where’s it coming from?”

  “Surface level,” Trenne answered. “The others have the ambassador but getting out will involve—” The screaming cut off and Trenne stopped too, head cocked, listening.

  The ground seemed to ripple.

  Taji had worked with miners. He knew what that meant. “If explosions hit anything load-bearing, there will be cave-ins. If a support structure is hit with debris, anything could come down. Anything. Even the surface. Why would anyone do that? We are in here. People are in here. Why would anyone do that?”