From This Night

From This Night by L. E. Bryce Chippewa Publishing LLC www.chippewapublishing.com Copyright ©2005 by L. E. Bryce NOT...

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From This Night by L. E. Bryce

Chippewa Publishing LLC www.chippewapublishing.com

Copyright ©2005 by L. E. Bryce

NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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FROM THIS NIGHT By L. E. Bryce

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From This Night By: L.E. Bryce "From This Night" was originally published by Forbidden Fruit magazine in May, 2005.

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FROM THIS NIGHT A Lady Aibell Press/Chippewa Publishing Publication, December 2006 Chippewa Publishing LLC P.O. Box 662 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729 Available Formats: Adobe Acrobat Reader (PDF) ISBN 1-933400-29-3 Other available formats: Palm Doc (PDB), Rocket/REB1100 (RB), Pocket PC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB), hiebook (KML), iSilo (PDB), Mobipocket (PRC), OEBFF Format (IMP), Microsoft Reader (LIT), (HTML). FROM THIS NIGHT Copyright © 2006 L. E. Bryce Edited by Ricki Marking-Camuto Cover Art by Djinn Proofed by Katherine Johnson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole, or in part, by any means, without the written consent of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination, or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks referred to within this publication are the property of their respective trademark holders. None of these 5


trademark holders are affiliated with Chippewa Publishing, LLC., our products, or our website. WARNING: The contents of this book are intended for mature audiences 18 years of age and older only. Language, violence, and sexual situations may apply. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Chapter One It was a delicate subject, and one they had carefully avoided for the past seventeen years. "Agamo, this meeting was the last thing I wanted for today, but the priests are calling for us to honor the agreement." Agamo impatiently shook his head while Khanis' servants set out wine and other delicacies. His former rival always set an excellent table; it was a shame he had no appetite. "Surely some other arrangement can be made?" "I put the same question to the priests. The gods stand on any oath taken in their name, they say, and the words were very specific. There is no way around it." "How could such a thing be binding?" Agamo sipped at his wine. Getting drunk was a tempting alternative to this meeting, but he knew better. Drink was what had gotten him into this predicament in the first place. "No heirs could possibly come of it." Khanis gestured for the servants to leave. "Then you should have been more cautious in your words. 'The nextborn child,' indeed! Píru of the Silver Hands hears all."

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Agamo wagged a finger at him. "Don't you start with me. You saw nothing wrong with the wording of the agreement at the time, and I had no way to know it wouldn't be a girl." "You were drunk, that's what." "And you weren't? You agreed to it." Agamo rubbed his eyes with one hand. The wine was looking more tempting by the moment. "It's been difficult grooming Suryo for this, and your son isn't going to take too kindly to being saddled with a boy instead of a pretty girl who can give him sons." Reaching for the decanter, Khanis refilled his own cup. "It's a temporary arrangement, and it isn't as if Alasson hasn't had his share of pretty boys," he said. "He'll do as he's told if he wants his bride." "My son isn't some painted boy from the Shalathi Way that he can use for one night and discard," said Agamo. "I expect him to be well treated. You know that finding him a wife after this will be next to impossible should the word get out. He should at least have some respect for what he's sacrificing." "Suryo will be an honored guest in my home. You have my word on that, and I will make certain my son knows it as well." Khanis speared a morsel of desert hare on his knife, offering the platter to his guest before popping the meat into his mouth. "As for what to do with him afterward, there's always the priesthood. They don't seem as concerned with such things as the rest of us, and a bright boy like Suryo could rise quite high in the service of some god or other." Agamo, tearing off a piece of flat bread, muttered something under his breath about necessity. "He ought to be home increasing our profits, not wasting his talents in the 7


priesthood." Shaking his head, still muttering, he bit into the bread. "Foolish oath," he mumbled. "Regret it all you want," said Khanis. "There's nothing to be done about it now." **** "I'll have absolutely nothing to do with this!" shouted Alasson. Khanis brought his fist down on the heavy mahogany desk, nearly upsetting his writing materials and the wine cup the servant had just filled. "Lower your voice, boy. You'll do as you're told and obey your father and the gods." Alasson glared at him. "And how do they expect me to have sons with this ... this boy?" "Stop your pacing and let me explain," snapped Khanis. The servant cautiously moved around him, clearing away linens and platters of food. Alasson did not bother to ask who the guest had been, for his father entertained business partners in his study at least four times a week. "It is not as terrible as you think. It's only for a year, just enough to honor the gods and our agreement. When it's finished, you'll take Suryo's sister for your wife." "Yes, after the entire city finds out about this," said Alasson. "Can you imagine what people will say?" It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, marrying a boy. Worse, his father expected him to do it. On a few occasions, he had seen the young man in question, though they never exchanged words. Suryo was attractive enough, and Alasson 8


was not averse to bedding a pretty boy, but sex was something one simply did not do with a peer. "Sit down and listen, boy." Khanis motioned to the chair directly across from him. "This is more than just some foolish promise made to the gods. You're too young to remember what it was like when our two houses fought, but your brothers could tell you about the dead uncles and cousins, even your own grandfather, their lives wasted in some pointless brawl." Alasson had no need to be reminded. From the cradle, he knew about the feud between their families and how the king finally forced peace by calling their men into military service, where in the field they learned to be brothers-in-arms. "Those days are finished." "Because we shed blood together and swore oaths," added Khanis. "The king suggested we seal the peace by pledging our children in marriage. We'd just come back from our last campaign and were flush with the victory. By silver-handed Píru, Agamo swore he'd give his next-born child in marriage to my newborn son. He was in his cups at the time—even he admits it—so he didn't stop to think the child in his wife's belly was yet another son." The servant, bowing to them both, discreetly withdrew and closed the door behind him. "And so his son and I now have to pay for his colossal stupidity, is that it? Tell me, Father, which one of us is supposed to be on top?" Khanis narrowed his eyes. "Your sarcasm fails to honor the situation." 9


"I'm serious," said Alasson. "You know perfectly well how it'll look, a nobleman's son doing in bed what only women and slaves are supposed to do." "In that case, you needn't fear for your manhood. Here, have something to drink. You look like you need it." Khanis indicated the untouched cup the servant had set before Alasson. "Agamo has been grooming his son for his part in this, and by all accounts, Suryo will obey. I would tell you that it isn't necessary to touch him at all, but from what the priests tell me, the gods won't be satisfied unless you consummate this union." Alasson took the wine and tasted it: a deep red from the orchards of Akkil far to the south, heady enough to make a man drunk if he downed too much too fast; it was just what he needed. "And what am I supposed to do with him after that?" "Agamo and I will find some quiet pastime for him," said Khanis. "One night, Alasson, that's all, and then you needn't look at or speak to him again if that's what suits you." **** On the morning of the wedding, Alasson put on his best robe of crimson silk, a luxury imported from Rhodeen that he had hoped to wear for a better occasion than a mock matrimonial. As his attendant arranged his hair in the latest fashion, he wondered how Suryo was being prepared. Two years ago, as he watched his sister marry some minor lord, he rolled his eyes at the fuss she made over her cosmetics and jewels. He 10


smiled at the thought of his soon-to-be spouse fretting like a woman over his toilette. Abruptly, he stopped, realizing the situation was not even remotely humorous. Agamo offered to pay for the whole affair, but to minimize public scandal, only immediate family and the priests were invited to the wedding. There would not even be the customary bridal gifts. Alasson caught his reflection in the looking glass and scowled. The only bride he was interested in was a pretty girl with a pleasing face and body and a rich dowry. All he was getting out of this bargain was a boy, a temporary union, and sniggering looks from his older brothers. Before he went down, his father came in to speak with him. "In a year's time, we'll be celebrating a true wedding," promised Khanis. "Agamo and his son have arrived. When you see them, you're to be polite and treat Suryo with honor." Of all the things his father could say to him on his wedding day, to assume that he would forget his manners bordered on insult. I'm twenty-one years old, Father. I think I know what to do. Alasson swallowed his retort. "I will do what is proper," he answered stiffly. "See you remember that when it comes time to bed him," said Khanis. Downstairs, a spacious chamber painted with the curling vines and fruits of the family's trade stood just off the inner courtyard. The household altar stood at the far end of the room, and upon it Khanis reverently placed the images of Píru and the Snake Mother who presided over all marriages. The 11


fired clay figures had been taken from the cabinet where they were kept, anointed in oil, and dressed with garlands as befit wedding guests. Priests of the Master Craftsman and the Snake Mother had already arrived, and stood speaking quietly to the prospective fathers-in-law. They acknowledged Alasson when he entered and indicated with their eyes that he should join his spouse by the altar. Khalgari brides traditionally wore deep red, the color of motherhood and the women's mysteries, and were draped head-to-heel in voluminous veils. Alasson was surprised to see that Suryo wore a dark blue silk robe with elaborate silver earrings, the cut of his clothing no different than that of any other well-to-do young man attending a wedding. The only concession he made to the occasion was his hair: crimped and loosely arranged upon his shoulders like a maiden's. His face was clean-shaven. They stood together and joined hands for the binding, but beyond the vows, they did not speak to each other. Alasson had no idea what to say to him, and Suryo was clearly as uncomfortable in his presence as Alasson was in his. Agamo paid for a sumptuous meal and hired musicians who could be counted upon not to gossip, but the wedding banquet was awkward. Alasson ate little and Suryo nothing at all. The wine, both expensive Akkian red and Besarian white, flowed as freely as Agamo's purse allowed. Alasson was more than tempted to get drunk, as any man might do on his wedding day, but a withering look from his father warned him that it was ill-advised. 12


Too much wine got us into this. Slowly, he set the cup down. Wine isn't going to get us out of it. At the end of the evening, Suryo turned slightly toward him, an anxious look on his face. Alasson fixed his eyes on the edge of the table and did not acknowledge him. He had been to enough weddings to know it was time for the bedding of the bride, almost always a raucous affair with goodnatured teasing from both families. He knotted his fists under the table, so tightly wound he knew he would strike the first person who tried to make a jest. Like the ceremony and banquet, the rituals of bedding were subdued here as well. Agamo, as befit the father of the bride, quietly led Suryo from the table and out of the hall. A half-hour later, with most of the guests gone, it was Alasson's turn. He was escorted back to his own chamber where his servant removed his ornaments and wedding finery in favor of the dressing gown he would wear for the bedding. Garlands of autumn wildflowers and fragrant candles adorned the bridal chamber, a guest room refurbished for Suryo's use. Normally the room would be crowded with relatives and friends who would remain until the bride and groom were tucked into bed together and received the traditional blessing from a priestess of the Snake Mother. No priestess had come. Only the priests and the two fathers entered the bridal chamber. Alasson saw Suryo, dressed for bed in a cream-colored shift, standing on the far side of the bed with his father. 13


Khanis ushered Alasson inside while a servant closed the door. Agamo bowed to the white-robed priest of Píru. "Let the god witness that our oath to him is fulfilled," he said. Pressing his fingertips together, the priest returned the bow. "When this night is over, then your debt to the god is cleared." When instructed, Alasson took Suryo's hands in his. They're so soft, he thought, just like a woman's. He remembered that when his sister had been married, she lay down on the bed so a priestess of the Snake Mother could roll an egg over her womb and anoint her with water to ensure her fertility. Here, the ritual formulas were truncated and no one sprinkled them with the life-giving water. No effort was even made to put them to bed. Whatever happened that night, they would be left to their own devices. Khanis paused at his elbow on the way out. "Remember your duty, son," he said. Leaning forward, he dropped his voice so only Alasson might hear. "He's not bad looking. Surely you can manage one night." The door of the bridal chamber closed, and the footfalls receded down the hallway. Downstairs, Alasson could hear the hired musicians taking their leave and his mother giving orders to the servants to clean up. "Are you coming to bed?" Suryo asked nervously. The servants had laid fine white linen upon the bed, but everyone knew there would be no bloody sheet in the morning, and no way to verify that the deed had been done. 14


Alasson took the hand extended to him, once again feeling the long, smooth fingers against his. "The only men who have hands this soft are priests and eunuchs," he commented. He laughed, trying to dispel the tension. "Tell me, what will I find when I—?" The next thing he knew, he was violently spun around by a blow that landed him facedown across the bed, staring at a widening smear of red against the pristine linen. You bastard, he thought, tightening his fists in the sheets before pressing the cloth to his face. His nose felt swollen but not broken. "What did you do that for?" "I was ready to do this ... this thing, if only to please my father and the gods," Suryo answered tightly, "but I won't have you making fun at my expense. There's your bloody linen that you can show everybody in the morning. Don't think you'll get anything more out of me tonight."

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Chapter Two Alasson found that being a newly-wedded man was unbearable. Everyone who knew of his recent marriage made it their business to ask how well he liked his spouse. Never mind that Suryo was not a woman, Alasson's brothers wanted to know what his body was like and if he was good in bed. Khanis put an end to the banter with a sharp word. "This is a holy business, and I won't have you sully it with your filthy remarks. If you've nothing better to do, perhaps I haven't given you enough work to keep you busy." Alasson knew he could weather such teasing, but somehow the questions insulted him. Suryo was not some cheap painted boy they could all pass around on a cold night; he was as wellborn as any of them and belonged to Alasson alone. It puzzled Alasson. Their wedding night passed in awkward silence, each partner hugging his side of the bridal bed while trying to pretend the other did not exist. After that, they had not exchanged more than four words. In the morning, Khanis asked his son why his face was bruised and why the sheets were spotted with blood. Alasson answered that in his passion he was rougher than he intended and that Suryo had inadvertently struck him. Whether his father accepted this answer or not, he had no idea. Until midday, Alasson attended to the family business, visiting the warehouse and making certain wine production went smoothly. He spared a brief glance at the slaves 16


stomping the grapes in the two great vats before following the warehouse manager into the cool, subterranean storeroom to inspect the amphorae. Alasson ate the noon meal with the manager and his staff before returning to the house. His father might entertain a client upstairs and call his eldest son to sit in on the meal, but if no other business awaited, Alasson was at his leisure until late afternoon. In a room off the central courtyard, he overheard a voice reciting the maxims of the philosopher Eharideos. He ventured to the doorway and watched Suryo with his tutor until the old man noticed him. With a nervous little bow, the tutorgathered his materials and stepped out to give them privacy. "Is this what you've been doing all morning?" Alasson leaned against the doorjamb. "I'd had enough of Eharideos by the time I was twelve." Suryo stiffened in his chair. "There is much you could learn from philosophy." His knuckles were very white where he grasped his stylus. A wax tablet lay before him. "A wise man does not tempt the serpent's bite, nor bend his tongue to what is not needful or good." Alasson ignored the veiled insult. "My tutors bored me with much the same. Is this what you do all day, stuff yourself with such pieties?" "Did you think I was spinning wool and weaving with the women?" Gods, if he weren't a guest, I'd deal with him as he deserves. "I only asked what you were doing. Why don't you 17


go outside and get some exercise? A man shouldn't be shut up here with dusty old scrolls and boring tutors." "Then what do you suggest I do with my time," asked Suryo, "since you think so poorly of philosophy?" "Why don't you go for a walk or a ride?" Suryo's face changed. "I don't have a horse," he said in a subdued voice. "I had one once, but my father took it away from me when I turned sixteen." "Why did he do such a thing? Never mind. I think I can guess. There's an extra horse in the stable I'm sure you could borrow," he said. "I don't have much business tomorrow, so we can go out if you'd like." Why he was even making the suggestion, he had no idea. He could really care less what Suryo did so long as he did not make trouble. The next morning, he led Suryo to the stable and instructed the groom to saddle his eldest brother's horse. Dhagal never rode unless he was sent on an errand to a neighboring city, and Alasson did not think he would begrudge a guest the privilege. Their house was situated in a quiet neighborhood between one of the city's two bazaars and the craftsmen's district. To the north was the Serpentine Gate with its thousands of glazed tiles gleaming in the sun, and beyond that lay parkland that separated the mercantile district from the temple precinct and estates of the nobility. If one wanted better riding, one had to go into the hills outside the city walls, but in the same breath with which he gave permission for the venture, Khanis warned Alasson that Suryo was a guest and 18


was not to be riding in rough places where highwaymen might lurk. As Suryo adjusted to the unfamiliar mount, Alasson was surprised at how skilled a rider his companion actually was, leading him a merry chase off the carefully maintained equestrian paths to the bank of the river that irrigated the park. "Why do you look so shocked?" asked Suryo. He dismounted and tied the reins to a nearby tree. "Did you think because I'm clean-shaven and my hands are soft that I don't know how to sit a horse?" Along the way, his appearance had attracted more than a few stares. "If you'd brought a bow, I could have shot it, though I'm out of practice." He rubbed his fingers together. "My father had Nebi rub almond oil into my hands to get rid of the calluses." Nebi was a eunuch whom Alasson saw in constant attendance on Suryo. When asked about him, Suryo confessed, "He doesn't want me to go anywhere or do anything. Father told him to keep me locked up with my tutor." Alasson offered him the wineskin he had brought. "I didn't mean what I said the other night. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect. I was only trying to lighten the mood." "It wouldn't be so easy for you to make jokes if our roles were reversed." Suryo drank from the skin and passed it back. "I've been groomed for this ever since I was twelve and the priests told my father there was no other way. If you want to know, Nebi plucked and shaved and waxed off the 19


rest of my hair, too, just like a bride before her wedding night." Some young men plucked their eyebrows to give them a pleasing line, but Alasson never did this and could not imagine a man doing it to his entire body. "That must have hurt." "Yes, it did." There was no more conversation. Beyond apologizing for his conduct, Alasson did not know what to say, and the silence between them grew awkward. Together, they walked a short distance along the bank while the horses rested, then rode back to the house. Khanis, escorting a business partner to the door when they arrived, was visibly surprised to see Suryo riding but he did not comment. Alasson ignored him. In the stable, Alasson dismounted first and offered a hand to Suryo, who did not need it but accepted the gesture without complaint. His grip was sure, and Alasson was struck at how warm his skin was, the pulse beating strongly in his wrist where his fingers clasped it. As Suryo stepped down to the ground, Alasson could smell his wayward hair and the slight fragrance of the oils Nebi poured into his bath. Suryo held his gaze for a moment before delicately clearing his throat. Alasson, realizing he was still holding his hand, murmured an apology and let him go. Supper was a subdued affair dominated by business talk. In the evenings when clients were not being entertained, the family gathered in the sitting room with its deep red walls to play games or listen to music or a recital. Khanis preferred works that offered sound advice to politicians and 20


businessmen, admonishing his sons to pay attention to the various maxims, but once in a while he relented to allow his wife to hear the sentimental poetry she favored. While she and her daughters-in-law embroidered by the lamplight, Khanis and his eldest son continued the conversation they began over their meal. Uninterested in the talk of weights and amphorae, Alasson accepted a challenge from his next-eldest brother and spent the evening trying to best Manthes at keidu. Beyond inviting Suryo to join them, he paid little mind to what the man did until he looked up from his game to find Suryo gone. That night he slept alone. A servant closed the shutter and drew the hangings against the chill once Alasson climbed into bed. Earlier, the man prepared the sheets with a brass bed warmer, but Alasson would have preferred a more carnal method of keeping the cold away. His brothers had wives to warm their beds. By rights, he should not have had to sleep alone. Had Suryo been a girl, Alasson could have marched straightaway into his chamber and taken what was his. When asked, Alasson assured his father that he had done his duty. He knew Khanis was skeptical, but he would have continued lying had he thought he could get away with it. A man could be fooled, but the gods saw everything. Rolling over onto his side in the darkness, he touched the side of his nose. The bruise had begun to yellow, yet if he pressed in just the right spot, the tenderness made him wince. How am I ever going to get him into bed now? he wondered. This should have been so simple, and I've gone 21


and made a mess of it.

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Chapter Three "What is this?" asked Suryo. Alasson stood the bow on the carpet. "What does it look like? It belonged to an uncle who was killed fighting the Turyar before I was born. If you want to try it, I've already had the grooms set up a target in the courtyard." Setting his scrolls aside, Suryo gripped the bow and stood up. "Why are you going to all this trouble?" he asked. "Because you look bored and could use the exercise," said Alasson. Bewilderment slowly turned to suspicion. Suryo handed the bow back. "If this is some ploy to get me into bed, then you're wasting your time. Just say the word and I—" "Why do you always have to be so difficult? If you like sitting here all day with your musty scrolls, then you're welcome to it!" Suryo slowly, deliberately placed his writing materials into their wooden box and slammed down the lid. "It's you who makes this impossible," he snapped. "All you have to do is call me upstairs, tell me to get undressed, and order me to lie down. I'd rather we get this business over with then have you dance around it like some maiden." Alasson fought to keep from throttling him. "I brought this because I thought you might be bored, just as we went riding yesterday because I thought you might want to. However, if you'd prefer a different kind of riding, then yes, I'll be more than happy to bend you over the chair and fuck you." 23


This time, he was poised to deflect any blow Suryo might aim at him, but Suryo only snatched the bow from his hand and shoved past him. In the courtyard, a straw man stood propped against one wall. Alasson removed his outer robe and draped it about the figure's shoulders. "There, in case you feel like hitting me again." He stood aside to watch Suryo take his stance and test the bowstring. A groom handed Suryo an arrow from the quiver. He knocked it, drew the string with the surety of a man who had done it many times before, and hit the straw man's abdomen twice. "I can do better." Suryo did not take his eyes off the target. Once again, he knocked an arrow, sighted, and drew back the string. Alasson heard a snap followed by a startled cry, and saw the arrow go wide, missing the target to glance off the wall behind. The groom dipped to retrieve the bow as it fell, as Suryo stood hugging his shoulder and gritting his teeth in pain. "What's wrong?" asked Alasson. "The weight was too much. I haven't done this in more than two years." Alasson retrieved the bow and handed it off to a groom. "How bad is it?" he asked. Suryo tried to flex his right arm and hissed. "I pulled the muscle." "Next time I'll get you a lighter-weight bow." Alasson gestured to the groom to put away the target, bow, and arrows while he helped Suryo upstairs. 24


In the bathing room, Alasson ordered the servants to heat water for a bath and bring medicinal oil. The women were pouring the first steaming buckets into the tub when Nebi burst in, fussing over his charge while berating Alasson in the same breath. "What have you done to him, you foolish man? Suryo is a delicate creature deserving of better treatment than this." Alasson wasted no time ordering him out; the eunuch was far too high-strung for his taste. "Suryo hasn't broken any bones and he's not crippled. He'll feel better in a day or so." Dismissing the servants, he shoved Nebi out behind them, shut the door, and turned the latch. Suryo dropped the last of his clothing and stepped into the glazed tub. "You don't have to stay. I can apply the heat and oil myself." "I think you're trying to get rid of me." Alasson tested the oil one of the servants placed over the warmer. "I gave you a bow you couldn't use, so you could at least let me see to your injury. When you're done soaking, let me put this on your shoulder. I'll see about getting a cold compress to put over the heat." When the water in the tub began to turn lukewarm, Suryo climbed out, wrapped his lower body in a towel, and sat on the linen couch. Alasson removed the oil from the low flame, sat down behind him, and carefully poured some of the oil into his hand to smear onto Suryo's right shoulder. "Are you sure you know how to do this properly?" asked Suryo. 25


"I've known since I was old enough to get into fights with my brothers. Just relax your arm; you're much too tense." Alasson rubbed the oil into Suryo's skin, letting the friction of his kneading hands unknot the strained muscles. Suryo gradually began to relax, his head falling back to expose the smooth column of his throat. With a careful hand, Alasson drew his long, heavy hair off to the side so he could continue the treatment, yet the fragrance of that hair, mingled with the smells of skin and warm oil, made it difficult for him to concentrate. He had done this plenty of times for Dhagal and Manthes and they for him, but never once had he become aroused by it. I should have just let that annoying eunuch stay and had him do it. This is what I get for being kind. Leaning forward, his lips inadvertently grazed Suryo's temple as Suryo chose that moment to shift position. "I didn't mean to do that," he quickly explained. "You moved." And the lips that parted to speak—he did not mean to touch those either. The steam in the bathing room was far too warm, the pulse of the oiled skin under his hands beat far too strongly, and his groin tightened unbearably when Suryo responded to him. Surely the couch was too narrow for the two of them, but he had made love in more awkward places and he was hardly going to spoil the moment by suggesting they go back to his bedchamber. Just when Alasson would have deepened the kiss, Suryo suddenly pulled away. "Why did you do that?" "You don't like my kissing you?" 26


Suryo lifted his fingers to his lips before dropping them to his lap. Under the towel, Alasson noticed his arousal. "You're putting so much effort into this." "It's more enjoyable this way," said Alasson. "Would you rather I just climbed on top of you and got it over with?" "I think it would be better that way." "You sound like a surly painted boy who just wants to get to the next customer," said Alasson. "I don't want to hurt you." Suryo abruptly rose from the couch and snatched up the dark robe Nebi brought for him. "I'm not a whore," he said sharply. "Do you think I enjoy any of this, or want to? What if it were you in my place? Would you be so eager to seek pleasure where it isn't allowed?" Alasson admitted that he had not considered what he would do had their roles been reversed beyond thanking the gods that they had not been. "I never called you a whore. Everyone knows you're not doing this because you want to, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy it. Did somebody tell you that you shouldn't?" "No one said any such thing, but I know what's considered proper just as you do." Hugging the dark blue wool to his shoulders, Suryo sat down again. "A year ago, my father hired a male courtesan to teach me the art of being with another man. At first, I refused. I told him I would rather die, and he whipped me for my insolence, but there was no way around it. The gods had to have their due, he said, whether in this world or the next. So I did as I was told." 27


Alasson put out a hand to reassure him, stopping just short of touching his arm. "I'd like to think being with me is preferable to committing suicide." He smiled for a moment before acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "I don't blame you. I'd do the same, I think. Still, that doesn't mean you can't take pleasure in an offering to a god." "When the offering is good and necessary and not because my father's own drunken stupidity made it so. You're not the first one to say such things to me. Naaku said the same the first day my father sent him to my chamber. He told me there was no shame in serving another and that I could enjoy it, but what does he know? He makes a living having sex with people. I didn't believe him then and I still don't want to." "Is it because you think the shame will somehow be less if you don't enjoy it?" asked Alasson. "Whatever happens, it's between you, me, and the gods. It doesn't have to be unpleasant." Suryo hung his head, staring at his folded hands. "It's easy for you to say that, you who doesn't have to do it." At this point, Alasson truly did not know what to say. He admitted he was a fine one to talk when the thought of being penetrated by another, much less enjoying it, was as reprehensible to him as it was to Suryo. "Truly, I'm sorry this happened," he said. "I've never taken anybody who wasn't willing. I'm used to having a partner kiss me back and, well, at least pretend that they want it. I thought you did." "If it's about your pleasure," said Suryo, "Naaku showed me how to take care of that well enough." 28


Once he was old enough for sex, Alasson's brothers took him to one of the brothels along the Shalathi Way and paid for a pretty, lissome girl to teach him the ways of the flesh. Later, he took his own coin and did the same with a boy, but even in learning what would please his partner, his aim was always his own gratification. Somehow, he did not think Suryo received the same teaching. "Can I ask what did you do with him?" "What I imagine every painted boy does when he's first trained," murmured Suryo. "He showed me how to kiss and how to touch a man to make him want more." "Have you ever had one?" Suryo looked up at him. "Had what, a man, or a painted boy? No, I've never had either. My brothers wanted to take me out, but my father wouldn't allow it. He said that sort of thing was for after I'd done my service to the god." Alasson took the linen cloth he had used to carry the oil warmer and wiped the excess oil off his hands. "Did you like it when I kissed you?" he asked. He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Suryo's own lips. "You aren't as unpleasant as Naaku," answered Suryo. "He's supposedly this great courtesan, but I could never see how. I thought him vulgar." "I hope you won't think me vulgar now." Alasson took the chance and touched Suryo's hand with his, just enough to make his presence felt. "Come with me." Gazing down at the fingers touching his, Suryo suddenly looked uncertain. "Go with you where?" 29


"Just across the way to my chamber," said Alasson. "That nosy eunuch of yours is probably fluttering about in yours." Suryo looked over at the oil in the warmer. "But we have everything we need here. I can move just so and—" "Believe me, this couch wouldn't be very comfortable, and the tiles even less." Although he gave the oil and cloth to Suryo to carry, Alasson knew even then that he would not go through with the act. His father could fume all he liked, but Suryo did not really want him, and he would not force sex on a partner who was not truly ready for it. In his chamber, Alasson closed the door and turned the latch. Behind him, Suryo set the oil warmer on the night table. His eyes on the bed, Suryo started to undo the sash of his robe. "Where do you want me to—?" Alasson stopped his hand and took it in his own. "Sex isn't supposed to be such work. You're just supposed to feel and do as the desire comes. Here, sit down next to me." Sitting side by side on the edge of the bed, their lips touched in a kiss that began awkwardly but gained strength. Once again, Alasson felt the heat rise to his loins and knew his earlier reaction had not just been the steam and scented air from the bathing room. Suryo stiffly returned his embrace. Whatever that courtesan showed him how to do, mused Alasson, it certainly wasn't how to relax. Once or twice he had a painted boy or girl who was clearly new to the trade, and he spent much time caressing and murmuring to them before taking his 30


pleasure. It was what he expected to do with a virgin bride, but doing the same now with a young man nearly his own age was disconcerting. Once he felt Suryo's body become pliant, Alasson undid the sash and slipped the robe from his shoulders. An arm twined around his back, fingers tangling in his hair as their tongues met. Alasson broke off the kiss long enough to coax Suryo to lean back among the pillows. He bent over Suryo, brushing with his knuckles the long, dark hair that spilled over the cushions, letting his hand wander down the supple limbs under him. Suryo's fingers came up to caress his arm through his sleeve, before he drew a sharp breath and bit his lip. Alasson froze. "Am I hurting you?" "No, it's my shoulder." Sliding his hand up again, Alasson kneaded Suryo's shoulder, then bent and pressed his lips to the oil-fragrant skin. Somehow, he managed to unfasten his own clothing, but while shedding the layers of wool and linen ended one frustration, the heat and sensation of bare skin sliding together was nearly too much to bear. He could feel how hard Suryo was, his erect cock rubbing against his own, yet he forced himself to remain in control, to go slowly and allow his partner to become accustomed to the feel of their bodies together before he ventured any further. He touched his lips to the pulse in Suryo's throat, then slid down his collarbone to explore his chest. Suryo was breathing unevenly, enjoying the stimulation but not wholly willing to 31


yield to it. When Alasson's tongue circled his nipple, he gasped and his eyes opened in surprise. Alasson lifted his head. His lips teased the corner of Suryo's mouth as his fingers lightly grazed his nipple. "Didn't that courtesan of yours do this with you?" "No, he had me do it to him. I thought it was disgusting." "If you don't like it, I can stop and we'll do something else." Suryo grasped his wrist. "Shouldn't I be the one to—?" "I told you, sex is about doing as the desire takes you. I'm simply doing what pleases me." Once again, Alasson bent his lips to the copper-colored nipple under his fingers, lightly flicking it to hardness with the tip of his tongue before swirling around it. Suryo groaned and pressed his head closer. His movements were becoming less inhibited; his hands roaming up and down Alasson's shoulders and back even as Alasson's hands ventured between his thighs. In the end, Suryo was surprised. He expected to be taken and parted his legs in submission, but though the temptation urged him on, Alasson held back. Instead, he stroked Suryo's cock with a sure hand, guided Suryo's hands between his legs to show him what he wanted, and in this way they gave each other the same pleasure. Wonderment filled Suryo's eyes as he came. "You didn't do it," he gasped. "No, not yet," answered Alasson. Lassitude ran through his limbs. He did not care about the sticky mess between their bodies. "This felt good enough." "But the god—" 32


Alasson did not tell him what he felt at the moment of orgasm: the weight of another presence moving through his body, expelling itself with his seed. Men dreamt strange things in their ecstasy, he knew. Having no words for such mysteries, he thought it wiser not to question.

33


Chapter Four "You have been lying to me," said Khanis. "I did not raise my sons to tell falsehoods to their betters." Alasson tightened his fingers in his lap. "You should know better than to place spies at the keyhole." Khanis twirled the wine in his goblet, tasting the first of the season's vintage while offering none to his son. "You told me you had him on your wedding night, that the deed was done, yet now I find you've lied to me." "I meant to do it then," said Alasson, "but I insulted him and he struck me." "He struck you?" That his father said nothing about his insulting Suryo came as no surprise. Beyond welcoming the young man to his home with the customary guest-rites of salt, bread, and wine, Khanis had hardly spoken two words to Suryo since his arrival. "I deserved it. I teased him about his soft hands and lack of beard, so he struck me." Alasson touched a finger to his nose, where the bruise had since healed. "He's no woman, Father. You can't expect me to treat him like one. We have a year to do it. I won't force him when he isn't ready." Only one answer could have erased the disapproval from Khanis' face, and Alasson knew he had not given it. "That boy has been bred knowing his duty," Khanis said coldly. "I won't have Píru withhold his divine blessing on wine production because you and that boy withheld his due." 34


"It's Agamo's due, not ours." Alasson bristled at the suggestion that his physical union with Suryo was only worth what it could bring to his father's business. Most marriages, he realized, were business contracts, but this union was a debt to the god, and it seemed to him that Suryo's sacrifice should be worth far more than the paltry value Khanis apparently assigned to it. "I want it done within the week," said Khanis, dismissing his son. Alasson passed his mother in the courtyard but was too preoccupied to answer when she addressed him. No greater frustration existed than being in a room alone with his father. Rarely was anything done to Khanis' satisfaction, and Alasson often felt like throwing his account books back in his face and telling him to calculate his own figures if he thought it could be done better. In the shadow of the courtyard's fig tree, its branches stripped by the season, Suryo sat with one of his scrolls. Seeing Alasson's troubled look, he moved over to one side of the bench and invited him to sit. "What is wrong?" he asked. "You look like you've just had an argument with somebody." Too restless to sit, Alasson attempted to do so anyway. "It's nothing," he growled. He pressed his fist against his knee, finally shoving it under his thigh to keep from striking out. "Gods, I hate that man sometimes." "Have you quarreled with your father?" Alasson stared at the ground. "Why do you sound so surprised? Didn't you ever have words with yours?" 35


"In the beginning, but I've already told you how little good it did," answered Suryo. "Dare I ask what the argument was about?" Such things Alasson was not even willing to revisit alone. "It's not worth repeating. How is your shoulder?" "It's better. Nebi has been rubbing warm oil into it and wearing on my nerves at the same time. He says I should take it as a sign from the gods that it isn't proper for me to be engaging in such activities." Alasson rolled his eyes. "I don't know how you put up with him. I think I would've strangled him by now." "I've learned to ignore most of what he says." Regardless of their circumstances, Alasson refused to give his father the satisfaction of having forced his hand. In order to avoid trouble, he made certain to spend some nights in Suryo's chamber or to have Suryo come to him, but this was merely a subterfuge for the conversation and games that accompanied their newly formed friendship. Intimacy, when it came, was only an extension of their time together, an offshoot of mutual desire and curiosity. "Why do you make so much noise?" Suryo asked one night after their lovemaking. "Naaku once tried to teach me how to fake pleasure. I still remember the sounds he made and how ridiculous it all was. That's what you remind me of." Alasson threw an arm over his face. "Ah, I think you're telling me more about painted boys and their trade than a paying customer really wants to know." Rolling over, he leaned close and dropped his voice in Suryo's ear. "It's for the same reason, though. Father's more than likely got a servant 36


with his ear pressed to the door. If he hears us moaning and carrying on, he'll think we're really doing it." Suryo turned slightly, so Alasson could not help but graze his cheek and nose with his lips. "But why aren't we doing it? It isn't because I'm not willing." Alasson ran a finger up the length of Suryo's arm. His skin was still warm and flushed from their pleasure. "It's much more interesting this way," he murmured. "Straight fucking is very dull, and it doesn't feel as good as when you really want it. To tell you the truth, I'd rather lie here and talk than climb on top of you." "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that." "You haven't seen some of the partners I've had." Alasson dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Tell me more about Naaku." "What do you want to know?" While his family was not wealthy or prestigious enough to entice any notable courtesans, there were those who catered to the minor nobility and mercantile classes. Alasson heard gossip aplenty, but could not recall that Naaku's name had ever been mentioned. From what Suryo told him, he did not think the man was anything more than a former painted boy too old for the profession and too vulgar to be good at anything else. "Did you do everything with him?" "Why are you asking? Not out of jealousy, surely?" Alasson smothered a chuckle in Suryo's hair. "If he's half as vile as you make him out to be, then I'd be a fool to be jealous. It's just that you once said that he showed you how 37


to take a man inside you. I thought maybe you'd done it with him." Disgust and disbelief flickered across Suryo's face. "Father never would have let him do such a thing. I heard him say as much; that I was for you only. Naaku used his fingers on me to get me used to being filled, and one day he brought me a toy. They have such things, you know, that look like a man's cock." "I've heard of such things," said Alasson, "but never seen them." "I'd never even heard of them," said Suryo. "I was shocked when Naaku showed me one. He told me that ladies use them for pleasure when they don't have a man and that sometimes men use them, too. He gave me one so I could practice having it inside me." Alasson was intrigued enough to ask if he still had it. Suryo hesitated for a moment before climbing out of bed and going over to the clothes press. He returned with a long, slender object that he placed into Alasson's hands. The phallus was made of ivory and crafted with lifelike detail. "It looks like it would hurt," commented Alasson. "If you put enough oil on it and relax your muscles, it doesn't really hurt," explained Suryo. "Naaku told me there's a place inside a man that feels good when you touch it. He told me to look for it when I prepared myself." Like a living thing, the ivory retained the warmth from his hand. "I know about it," said Alasson. "It was one of the first things I learned in making love with a boy. Have you actually tried this?" 38


Suryo shook his head. "Once was enough." On the next night, when the brazier burned low and their bodies came together, Alasson tried an oiled finger inside his lover. Gasping into their kiss, Suryo's eyes opened in surprise before he let the tension out of his body and let Alasson do as he pleased. His hips began to rock in time with the finger sliding in and out of him, and he groaned when he came. Once he had seen the toy, Alasson did not ask to see it again. Although it fascinated him as an instrument of secret, forbidden pleasure, it also repelled him as something cold and foreign. Suryo could just as easily take him inside his body as a length of ivory, and the tightness around his finger only fueled his curiosity to discover what it would feel like around his cock. Soon, he thought, it will be soon. From the looks his father gave him, Alasson knew Khanis had been fooled, at least for now. The god, however, still awaited his due, and the failure to provide it made Suryo increasingly agitated. Alasson wondered why he hesitated. Suryo was ready, even impatient for him, and yet he held back. In those moments when he held his lover, he felt Suryo to be something fragile and precious that once used could not be touched again. Their first time would be their only time, for he did not intend to make a practice out of using Suryo in that way.

39


Chapter Five After the wedding, communication between Suryo and his father ceased. Until the bridal year ended and the debt was paid to the god, he was like any maiden who left her father's house for her husband's. Winter came hard to Bhellin. Storm clouds, dark and ponderous, moved in over the city from the north. When the rain came, it might last twenty days or more at a stretch, flooding the city's storm gutters and making many roads impassable. Travel to other Khalgari cities was impossible, and where commerce trickled to a near-standstill, tempers grew harsh. That Suryo heard from Agamo at all was surprise enough, but when his eyes grew troubled Alasson asked what was wrong. Suryo folded the letter and put it away. "I won't trouble you with the details. It isn't your concern." "A letter from your father wouldn't trouble you so much if there wasn't anything to report," said Alasson. "I told you I saw your cousin the other day at Mahtal's leather shop. He said all was well." Suryo reluctantly took out the letter and handed it to Alasson. After but a few lines, Alasson understood his hesitation. Agamo never struck him as a man of great warmth. Now as he informed his son that the parents of the girl Suryo was to have married had withdrawn their offer, his 40


matter-of-tone dismissed the matter and Suryo's possible reaction altogether. I need not repeat what the man said, or how he came to know of your situation, only that you and I both know why he withholds his daughter. Word will spread quickly, so we should not expect to receive any other offers. We will speak no more of this. Alasson turned the paper over. "Is that all he has to say?" Suryo took the letter back and shoved it into a pocket. "What did you expect?" Had Agamo been present, Alasson might have demanded an explanation. Now he could only ball his fist uselessly on his knee. "A decent man would have apologized for putting you in this predicament." "My father has never asked forgiveness for his rash words," said Suryo. "It doesn't trouble me now as it used to. It's only that—" A tremor passed through his hands, clasped tightly in his lap. "It's like he says. It will be like that with all the other families now. None of them will have me for a son. Father warned me and said he couldn't promise me a wife after this, but it isn't the same as when it actually happens. "Why are we waiting for this, Alasson? It doesn't matter now what the truth is, we might as well have done it." "Is it what you want?" asked Alasson. "What does it matter what I want?" Suryo shot to his feet, clenching his hands at his sides. "What I want is to curse my father making that accursed oath and ruining my life! Stop this playing and give the god his due!" 41


The voice that echoed through the atrium carried upstairs to Khanis, and within the hour, he wanted to know why Suryo was making a scene in his house. Alasson, his voice tightening under the strain, told him what news Agamo had sent. "Naturally, he's upset about it. I'll go to him tonight and see what I can do." Khanis tilted his head, his eyes flat and cold. "You will do more than that. If I have to come in and watch you consummate this union, I will, but you've carried on this game long enough." Alasson tightened his jaw. "Yes, sir," he growled. Once in his chambers, Alasson ordered a hot bath and then threw the servants out; he did not want anyone to see how his anger had undone him. Bolting the door, he fumbled out of his clothes, tearing at them when they would not come loose, then kicked over a pot of bath scent one of the slaves had left on the floor; the liquid spread an oily track along the tiles. He flung his garments after it, hurling his shoes against the wall. The heat of the bath restored him somewhat to his senses. Already he was ashamed for the childish fit he had thrown. Agamo's letter did not concern his betrothal. No matter what assurances his father made, Suryo must have known at some point that he would be ruined for marriage. "Why is this such a surprise to you?" Alasson asked himself aloud. Drawing up hot water in both hands, he bathed his face, letting the heat revive him. You're truly an idiot, he thought. Suryo's your bonded spouse before the god. You should have 42


better sense than to think it doesn't concern you that he's been cast aside like this. He lingered in the fogged bath, mulling over what to do next, until the water began to cool. Rising, he wrapped himself in a robe from the clothes press and unlatched the door so the servants could come in and tidy up. "Tirra," he said to a female servant, "when you're finished, go to Suryo's chamber and tell him I will visit him tonight." The girl returned to tell him that Suryo was greatly distraught even after hearing the message. "He gave me a sweetmeat and thanked me, sir, but was very sad. Will there be anything else, sir?" "No, you can go." Alasson wavered between going to Suryo at that moment and letting him alone with his grief. He said as much to his mother when she came to see what was amiss. As expected, she disapproved of the mess he had made and his earlier conduct. "You have not been forthcoming with your father," she said. "We had every intention of going through with it," he explained. "I sent a message to Suryo and we'll do it tonight. As for Father, all he can think about is increasing the wine trade and not offending any gods. He expects me to treat Suryo like a woman and just take him. It isn't as easy as that." "Men swear foolish oaths in their cups," his mother agreed, "but there isn't anything to be done about it now except to obey the god. You'll do as you've promised, and in the 43


meantime, send Suryo some token that you value him. That will sweeten the way." Such things Alasson was accustomed to do with maidens, sending them flowers and sweetmeats and trinkets when they were cross with him. No matter how his eunuch primped and depilated him, Suryo was not interested in a woman's playthings. He might have enjoyed riding or archery, had the weather been fair enough, or some dry book of philosophy, had Alasson possessed any sense for purchasing such things. "Mother, I want to go down to the shrine," he said. "Would you come with me? I need you to bring out Píru's image." She regarded his request strangely. "I've never known you to pray alone." Had she said that he rarely prayed at all, it would not have been closer to the truth. When he was old enough to begin learning the mysteries, his father brought him to the shrine with its painted vines, opened the cabinets, and shown him the gods. Alasson learned how to say the prayers and sprinkle the oil, but never felt the rituals call to him. Every morning, he and his brothers knelt with their father to pray before the Master Craftsman and the Twin Brothers who watched over their commerce. The words were practiced and hollow, punctuating a merchant's earthly ambition. The morning prayers were a reflex, like relieving one's bladder or yawning. Alasson went through the motions, except on those few occasions when he accompanied his father to the temples in the inner city. There, one could feel some immense ancient presence that made one lower one's eyes and hesitate to speak for fear of waking the divine. For 44


that reason, he never questioned the validity of the gods, only that they seemed to have no eye for what went on in an ordinary man's house. When they were not in use, the votive figures were locked away in a cabinet behind the altar. It was technically the duty of the patriarch to tend the household gods, but like all wives, Alasson's mother kept the keys to every storeroom and cabinet, including this one. His mother set the god upon the altar in front of Alasson and moved aside. She did not leave, though he wanted very much for her to do so. A man could not concentrate properly with his mother looking on. Lifting both hands in the ritual manner, he knelt before the altar. Lord of the Silver Hand, Master Craftsman, it is you who bound us. Grant me the skill to do what must be done. Look with favor upon those who do your bidding and provide for them. From there, his prayer lost all semblance of formality, and the words tumbled from his lips. Suryo deserves better than a blackened name; it was no fault of his own. If I can help him, I will. Just show me what to do. He pressed his hand to his heart. "I swear it, my lord. Just show me the way." That night, after the household went to bed, he quietly tapped at Suryo's door and offered the only token he could. Alasson wanted it to be better than it was. After all the nights they had already spent together, after their heated kisses and embraces, the culmination of their lovemaking should have been flame and desire. A sacrifice to a god 45


should be no less than this, and yet they came together clothed in the awkwardness of strangers. Making love was something Alasson liked to do well. He spent a long time kissing and caressing Suryo, who tugged at his clothes and all but threw the oil at him. "Finish it," he growled, half in tears. Alasson would have obliged him, but it was to stoke his own flagging desire that he lingered so. At last, he positioned Suryo, entered him, and brought their lovemaking to a swift resolution. Release brought mingled relief and pain, for he knew Suryo did not respond as he hoped. Suryo lay very still as Alasson sponged their bodies with a moist cloth and drew the coverlet up over them. Silence ruled the household, while outside, the rain pattered in the storm gutters. "Are you all right?" asked Alasson. "Did I hurt you?" Suryo looked at him. His eyes glistened with moisture. "Yes," he said. "I didn't mean to. I tried to make it good." Alasson reached over and pushed a few loose strands of hair back from Suryo's face, lightly stroking his cheek. "I won't do it to you again. I give you my word that I won't." Biting his lip, Suryo turned his face to the wall. "Why did the gods do this? What did I do to them that they did this to me?" he whispered harshly. "I wasn't even born when he made that oath. The gods could have made me a girl and then..." "Would you have wanted to be a girl?" asked Alasson. 46


Suryo gave a slight shrug under the blankets. "At least I wouldn't have had to wonder about my fate after this. Father mentioned the priesthood a few times, if he couldn't find me a wife." "Do you really want to be a priest?" "What I want ceased to be important long ago. Father will make the arrangements and I will do as I'm told, as always," answered Suryo. "I've heard it isn't a bad life if you serve the right god, and some priests even own property and have wives. I could learn to be happy." The way his voice rose, he sounded very much like a man struggling to believe his own words. Alasson propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him. "You like all that dry, dusty old business in books. You might make a very good priest." There was truth to what he said, but by the apathy that tinged Suryo's voice, Alasson saw it did not cheer him. "I never gave it much thought," Suryo said quietly. "It's better not to think too much, when it isn't your choice."

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Chapter Six "Suryo, have that eunuch of yours leave your face unshaven for a week. I won't tell you why, but trust me." "I was ordered to keep a smooth face," said Suryo. "There's really no need for it anymore," said Alasson. Last night, an idea had come to him, so simple and perfect that he berated his own stupidity for not having thought of it earlier. "Do it for me, and in seven days, I'll show you why." "Why don't you tell me now before Nebi hounds me?" "Ah, you're impossible!" Striking an exaggerated pose, Alasson took Suryo's hand to kiss his knuckles. The room was cold, even with the brazier, and Suryo's hand was icy. "It's a surprise, that's all I'm going to tell you." Over the next few days, Khanis and the rest of the household gave Suryo strange looks that persisted even when Alasson explained that the oath had been fulfilled and there was no reason why Suryo should not be free to grow out his beard. Six weeks had passed since their last coupling. Alasson kept his word, sleeping alone while watching Suryo's spirits sink. He thought another letter might have come from Agamo, similar in tone to the first, but this time Suryo did not confide in him. Meanwhile, Nebi taxed everyone's patience by complaining that his charge did not eat enough to nourish a sickly child and took no pleasure in his books. Alasson's mother visited him with warm soup and bread as any woman might do with an ailing son, and stayed with him 48


throughout the afternoon. Whatever words passed between them, neither she nor Nebi would divulge beyond urging Alasson not to abandon him. "It is a friend he needs now," she said. "He believes there is no one in the world who can undo his shame." "Mother, I did my best not to hurt him," replied Alasson. "I was gentle." "I know, and a maiden would have been glad of such treatment, but you yourself have said he is not a woman. If he grieves, you know the reason why." Several times, Alasson tried to lighten Suryo's mood, but was always rebuffed. He told his mother as much, even when she squeezed his hand and encouraged him not to give up. Then the idea came to him, so obvious it was absurd. "Trust me," he told Suryo. "You won't regret this." Suryo did as he was instructed, although he clearly did not like the feel or patchiness of the new growth. As he admitted, he had become accustomed to a smooth face and the daily ministrations of Nebi, who, for some unknown reason, continued to wax and pluck the hair from his master's body. Perhaps the eunuch did it merely out of habit or it was an indication that Agamo intended to dedicate his son to the priesthood once the union ended. On the seventh night, Alasson dismissed Nebi early and stole into Suryo's room with a long cloak over his arm. "Put this on," he whispered. "I'm taking you out." Suryo balked. "I can't go out." "We're both men," said Alasson. "We can come and go as we wish, and we'll take Eshar with the light." 49


It was a night for cloaks and hoods, and frost plumed their breath as they crept from the house and made their way down to the lower city. Eshar, a hulking man who would have made all but the most determined cutthroats think twice, lead the way with the lantern. Suryo followed apprehensively, stifling the questions that trembled on his lips. Alasson could see he had rarely been allowed to leave his father's house, and then only to visit the temples in the upper city. "We will get in trouble," he whispered. "No, we won't," said Alasson. Few people were abroad, just the lamplighters scurrying home and a handful of others. Alasson turned a corner and then another, coming to a street lit with red lanterns. Beside him, he heard Suryo's indrawn breath. "What is this place?" "This is the start of the Shalathi Way," said Alasson. Suryo drew back. "Why are you taking me to such a wretched neighborhood?" Alasson stood ready to take his arm to steady him and keep him from bolting. "It isn't all bad," he said reassuringly. "I wouldn't take you someplace that wasn't safe." Farther along were the truly garish establishments and alleys where no sensible or sober man would venture. Alasson always took care to walk where the lamplighters plied their trade, to keep to reputable places, and never to carry more coin on him than he would actually spend. Eshar was just an added deterrent. "The place we want is just a bit farther on. It'll be all right, trust me." 50


The building into which he hustled Suryo was a plain, twostory tenement that might have passed for an ordinary dwelling if not for the painted sign above the entrance. In the courtyard, Eshar extinguished the lamp before joining Alasson and Suryo inside. Clean and modestly appointed, the establishment had an outer room outfitted with tables and a hearth where patrons could enjoy a drink or talk before the fire; it was here that Alasson left Eshar with a coin to buy himself some good beer before leading Suryo through a curtain into a second room. More ornate than the first, the inner room was insulated with patterned wall hangings and perfumed with scented smoke from a corner brazier. Three girls danced to the strains of a panpipe while other girls and a few boys mingled with the patrons. Alasson felt Suryo stiffen beside him. "Now this is a decent place," he said, trying to calm Suryo. "Antisa keeps them clean and well-behaved. If there's one you fancy, just tell me and I'll pay for it." Suryo's eyes darted to the girls. "I wouldn't know—" he began. "She has boys, too, if you prefer." Alasson gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Whatever you want tonight, I've brought coin enough." Seeing Suryo was too anxious even to look at the girls, Alasson steered him toward a table in the corner, waving off a boy who was too forward, and ordered a pitcher of beer. Once Suryo relaxed enough to be left alone, Alasson approached one of the girls, a lissome, fair-haired creature, and 51


whispered his request in her ear. Letting her eyes dart to Suryo, she agreed with an encouraging smile and beckoned to Antisa, who took Alasson's coin and sent the girl to her work. At first, Suryo did not grasp that the girl had already been paid and was his for the next hour. Blushing furiously, he protested, but the girl knew what to do and gently but insistently tugged him up the stairs. Not long after, Alasson found himself a pretty dark-skinned girl and went up with her. When he was done, he went down to look in on Eshar and wait for Suryo. A short time later, Suryo appeared in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled, his cloak bunched between his hands. His bewilderment might have been amusing had it not been so earnest. "Are you all right?" asked Alasson. After a moment, Suryo managed to focus. "It was so different," he murmured. "I didn't think it would be—I-I don't really know what I expected—but it was..." Alasson remembered his own first time, after which his brothers had laughed at his speechless amazement. "So I take it that you enjoyed yourself?" Taking a small, shuffling step forward, Suryo buried his face in Alasson's shoulder. The voice Alasson heard was a trembling thing muffled in layers of wool and linen, but he understood the words. "Thank you."

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Chapter Seven Alasson could not comprehend why his father reacted with such displeasure over the excursion. "Suryo is entitled to the same pleasure as every other man," he said. "We've consummated the union, so I thought—" "That is the problem," said Khanis, "you do not think. It isn't your place or mine to decide what Suryo's rights are. Agamo informs me he is dedicating his son to the priesthood. Of course, he hasn't told me yet which god Suryo will serve, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was Píru of the Silver Hand, and those priests remain celibate for their first ten years of service." "Suryo isn't a priest yet." "No, but it's foolish to tempt him with what he can't have, buying him an hour with a woman when he can never marry." Khanis nudged the wine carafe forward, urging Alasson to take some. "I see you have become far too attached to him." Alasson did not touch the wine. "What did you think would happen?" "You waited too long to consummate the union. Had you done it on the first night, things might have been different." As much as Alasson hated to admit it, his father was right. It was not healthy to grow too attached to Suryo, and yet, he would not have done differently had he to choose again. He did not believe in forcing sex on an unwilling partner, and as for the excursion, Suryo's mood had already improved, as though in that hour with a paid girl he had discovered some 53


missing part of himself. His melancholy was tempered by the correspondence he received from his father concerning his forthcoming dedication to the gods. Suryo seemed reconciled to a life in the priesthood, even managing a smile when Alasson reminded him that some priests married and fathered children. Alasson did not add that it was mostly the older priests who did these things. Spring turned warm and green. Now that the weather was fair enough for excursions, Alasson and Suryo went riding again in the park, and Alasson found abow suitable for Suryo to draw. Khanis did not necessarily approve, but as these activities kept Suryo in good spirits, he did not complain. Some nights, Alasson had to restrain the urge to go to Suryo's bed and feel that firm body moving against his. Had he the slightest indication that Suryo desired it, he might have done so, but the oath was fulfilled, he had given his word, and it would not have been fitting now. And yet, as he stroked himself in the dark silence of his bed, Alasson felt the profound ache that came with being forced to part with something that rightfully belonged to him. At the beginning of summer, Khanis sent Alasson with Manthes to Lasith, a town in Besar where they would negotiate for the purchase of a sizeable grape harvest. Alasson asked if Suryo might accompany them. "It would be good for him to travel," he argued, "and the roads are safe enough." Although the proposal was not entirely to his liking, Khanis consulted with Agamo and they agreed that Suryo might go 54


to Lasith provided he stayed clear of the local brothels. Nebi was not invited. Alasson never had a better time while on business, even though Manthes was so staid that it was like traveling with a younger version of their father, keeping him at the bargaining table for hours on end. At such moments, Alasson regretted having brought Suryo along only to have to leave him behind in their lodgings, but Suryo assured him that he was content simply to be there. In the evenings, they ate out at a quiet shop, and friends gave directions to a reputable brothel. Manthes could protest however he liked, but when Alasson wanted sex, he thought it ill-mannered to leave his guest behind. Most young men readily talked about what they did with their sex partners. Suryo, however, revealed little. "I'll remember this when I go into the priesthood," he finally said. "I know your father wasn't happy about it, but I'm glad he let me come." "It isn't that he didn't want you to come," replied Alasson. "It's just that he and Agamo don't want you to get too attached to things you can't have. Besides, you don't know yet which god you'll serve." "Father talks about Píru as if no other gods exist, and he tells me the priests are interested in having me join their order. I never really had a head for figures or haggling, and Father never let me take part in the business the way he does my brothers, so I think the priesthood will be good for me. I only wish I didn't have to endure ten years of celibacy." "You might still marry," said Alasson. 55


Suryo shook his head. "I don't know that I want to." Two more days of negotiating with various local estates for their produce, two more nights slipping from Manthes' watchful eye to visit the brothel, and it was time to leave. Upon their return, a message awaited Suryo. "My father wants to see me," he told Alasson, "but he doesn't say why." Early the next morning, one of Agamo's servants came to the house to fetch Suryo. Alasson went about the day's business without concern, but as evening fell and Suryo did not return, he grew increasingly fretful. Nebi, who knew as much about the summons as his charge, offered no assistance, and Khanis either could not or would not reveal anything. By the end of the second day, Alasson was downright frantic. "Father, you know something, you must. Surely he wouldn't go and leave me like this, without a word." "Stop your nonsense, boy," Khanis said sharply. "Suryo is simply paying a visit to his father, and there are arrangements to be made. He will soon leave you, so you might as well become used to his absence." As usual, his father's advice was relentlessly practical but offered no comfort. Alasson did not need to be told that Suryo would leave, but he simply counted on some warning, time in which to compose himself and say goodbye as it ought to be said. Alasson spent a sleepless night wondering if Suryo was going to come back or if a servant would simply come for his 56


belongings. It would be just like Father and Agamo to do something like this and tell us it was for our own good. Late the following morning, Suryo returned. Wrapped in a dark cloak, barely acknowledging the servants who greeted him, he came in by the side gate. A groom went upstairs to tell Alasson, who was washing after the morning meal. Tossing the linen cloth aside, he started for the courtyard, and paused at the sight of Suryo coming up the stairs. Suryo moved slowly, clutching the rail for support. The hood of his cloak was drawn up over his head, leaving only his nose and lips visible. His beard was gone. Alasson reached for him. "What's wrong?" Without speaking, Suryo took Alasson by the arm and led him to his room. "Leave us," he ordered Nebi. The eunuch was scarcely out the door when Suryo shut it and leaned his body against the doorjamb. As Alasson started to place a hand on his shoulder, he spoke, "My father took me to the temple of the Silver Hand yesterday. They—" So it was to be service to Píru and ten years of celibacy. "What did they do?" The hand that reached for the edge of the hood was trembling. Alasson watched the dark wool fall back upon a head shorn of its thick, dark hair. Without it, Suryo looked childlike, vulnerable. Not his hair, his beautiful hair! Alasson's hands curled into fists at the urge to strike something or someone. All priests shaved their heads, and he knew he should not have been surprised by this—but he was. Oh, gods! The hair he loved to 57


touch, to bury his face in when they made love, it was gone, and a part of Suryo with it. "What have they done?" "They dedicated me to the god. I had to purge myself and fast and say the prayers," Suryo said shakily. "In a few days, I'll have to go back to the temple, this time for good." At first, Alasson did not think he had heard correctly. "But it hasn't even been a year." "I said the same, but the priests told me the god is satisfied." "Well, I'm not satisfied!" The moment the words fell from his lips, Alasson knew they were the wrong ones. "I mean, I— Oh, gods, why didn't they just take you? Why did they make you return like this?" Suryo shrank away from him, and once again Alasson knew he misspoke. "I thought you wanted to see me before I left?" "Not like this. Why did they have to cut your hair?" Alasson lifted a hand to touch Suryo's bare scalp, but stopped halfway. "I mean, I know why they do it, but—Gods, your hair was so beautiful." Tears filled Suryo's eyes. "It isn't so bad with the robes on. I look more like a priest then," he croaked. His composure fell away from him in one long, sobbing exhalation, and he threw himself into Alasson's arms. "I'm frightened. I know it's a silly thing—I mean, it's a temple, after all, and I'm going to be a priest—but it's so strange. It felt so awful when they made me purge; they were so cold about it. And then when they cut my hair—I-I don't know, I can't explain it." 58


"I wish there was something I could do," murmured Alasson. All he had to offer was his embrace, and gentle lips pressed to Suryo's temple. The priests had done a skillful job with their razors; the skin felt smooth and smelled of the oil they rubbed in to prevent irritation. Suryo pulled back so their foreheads touched. "I keep telling myself I'll get used to it, that I'll make a very good priest if I just try hard enough, but it seems so much to bear." For the next two days, Suryo kept to his room, venturing out only when Nebi and Alasson's mother coaxed him to take exercise and sun in the courtyard. Alasson wondered if he was ill from the ritual purging and fasting, even after his mother assured him that Suryo was feeling stronger. "They told him he should begin to withdraw from his friends and family," she explained. "They said this would make it easier for him when the time comes." "If that's what they're telling him to do, then why did they even let him come back to begin with?" he muttered. "They should have just taken him and been done with it." She placed a hand on his arm. "That, too, would have made you angry." After supper, Alasson was in no mood to join his family in the sitting room. Restless energy, like the static air before a thunderstorm, coiled and threatened to burst within him. He wanted to ride, to run until he was panting and spent, but the streets were no place to be after sunset. Instead, he paced up and down the courtyard in the warm, still twilight like a trapped animal, shutting out the noise and activity of the 59


neighbors. Once, he glanced up at Suryo's window, hoping to see a light, but the only lamp he saw came from the adjoining cubicle where Nebi slept. How he hated the gods and men who so foolishly invoked them! Blasphemy was in the mere thought, but Alasson did not ask forgiveness or even want it. Still brooding, he returned to his room and tried to compose himself for bed. Days passed since he last slept well; he did not need his mother or the servants to tell him that exhaustion made him snappish and would make him ill. The best thing to do, of course, would be to ask for a sleeping draught, but somehow he did not think it would help him. The knock at the door did nothing to help his nerves . Most likely it was yet another servant coming to fret over the washstand or bed linens. Alasson barked for the man or woman to enter. "Do your business quickly and leave me alone," he said. When a hand fell upon his arm, he jumped, half-spinning in his chair to strike the servant, the gods be damned what his parents thought. "Alasson!" The moment he realized the flinching, bareheaded young man was not a servant, Alasson dropped his hand. "Why didn't you tell me it was you?" he demanded. "I could have hurt you." "Why are you so jumpy?" asked Suryo. "Maybe I should leave."

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"No, it's all right. I just—" Alasson felt his heart hammering in his chest. "I've been like this all day. I need to get out and do something, I don't know what." Suryo leaned in and kissed him, chaste at first then with increasing hunger. "Is there anything I can do?" Coiled tension flexed and heated, becoming passion. Alasson pulled away long enough to ask Suryo what he thought he was doing. "I had a message," Suryo murmured. "My father is coming for me tomorrow morning. Nebi's already packing my things. I won't see you again after this." "Are you sure this is all right?" If the answer was no, then Alasson pictured all the restlessness tensed within him coming out in a great, frenzied rush called rape. After their trip to Lasith, he did not have enough money to go to a brothel or he probably would have already done so, and the hunger that awakened in him could not be satisfied with his own hand. Gods, Suryo, please tell me you came here for this, that you're not going to tease me. Suryo tugged at his clothing, pulling his tunic open. "I won't belong to the god until tomorrow, and the priests didn't say I couldn't. Alasson, this will be the last time for ten years that I can do this with anyone. I want to do it with you." The last button came undone and he fastened his lips upon bare skin. "Please don't tell me no." "Then I won't." The next thing Alasson knew, they were shedding their clothing, dumping it haphazardly on the floor all around the bed. Suryo took the lead, giving voice to his hunger with 61


eager hands and mouth, doing things that only a painted boy would do. Naaku trained him in some things, Alasson knew, but Suryo's enthusiasm could not possibly have been learned from that vulgar courtesan. Never mind that Suryo was soon to be a priest, the sight of him licking his lover's cock and taking it into his mouth drove Alasson to the edge of climax. "Suryo, you've got to stop," he panted. "I'm going to—" Losing that warm suction was a disappointment he swiftly remedied, leaning forward and kissing Suryo hard, palming the hot erection that bobbed between his legs. "I'm not going to ask where you learned to do that." Suryo moaned as Alasson's thumb rubbed the crown of his erection. "In Lasith," he answered. "That last night, I tried a boy. He did it to me, and it felt so good." The restless that set his nerves alight that day moved through Alasson, fueling the urge to tear off the trappings of convention and do what pleased him. Now it manifested itself in the need to give the pleasure he had received. For no other had he done this, and though he did not care much for the taste, the way his mouth could so easily undo his partner was a power he relished. Impulse did not end there. Lifting his mouth from Suryo's flesh, he crawled up his lover's body to kiss him again. "You've given so much—too much already. I should give you—" His words were breathless, mindless. "You should take me." Suryo pressed two fingers to his lips to stop the words. "You would regret it." 62


"No, I wouldn't." "Yes, you would. This is madness talking, and too much pleasure. In the morning, you'll think differently and then you'd hate me for letting you do it. No, love me like this." Suryo let his finger slide meaningfully over Alasson's thighs before lying back on the pillows and spreading his legs. In the lamplight, the cleft between his buttocks glistened with oil. Clearly he had come with this intention in mind. Their first time had been gentle, even cautious. Now Alasson took him hard. He wanted to pour as much of himself into his lover as humanly possible, and to feel this release for what it was, a culmination. Though it must have hurt, Suryo took him without complaint, wrapping long legs around him and crying out as he climaxed. The words I love you never passed between them, but in the language of lovers, it was spoken that night in endless variations.

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Chapter Eight She was a cloud of fine linen and perfumed skin, radiant in the early autumn sun streaming through the doorway. At a signal from Khanis, Alasson took his place beside her, taking her slender hand in his own. Her fingers were cool and dry, circled by jeweled rings that formed part of her dowry. Only once before had he seen her, this girl who was his promised bride, and that was on the morning of his union with Suryo. Under her veil, she had the dark eyes and golden skin of her brother yet none of his warmth or intelligence. She seemed to be measuring him. Not meeting her gaze, Alasson vigorously reminded himself that Suryo had done the same in the beginning. Before the household altar, a priestess of the Snake Mother bound their hands with red ribbon. "For the fullness of a moon they shall wait and purify themselves," she told the assembled relatives and friends acting as witnesses, "and when once again their hands are joined, they will lay them down on a bed of fruitfulness as the gods will it." All Alasson could think of was how moist and clammy his hands felt, and how many eyes were upon him. Afterward, he and his betrothed were permitted a brief visit in the courtyard with her elderly nurse as a chaperone, a thoroughly unnecessary gesture. As pretty as the girl was, Alasson was hardly in the mood to attempt any intimacies. Savira noticed his lack of attention. "Did you prefer my brother?" 64


Her question was so blunt it surprised him. Certainly it was not something a proper young woman would say. "Suryo was like a brother to me." "A man doesn't bed his own brother," she said. "He looked so silly with a smooth face, you know. All of my friends said that if you dress like a woman, sooner or later you become one." She sounded so nonchalant that she might have been talking about the weather in Ottabia or what silks were in fashion. "Your friends?" asked Alasson. "What do they know of this?""Oh, it was so amusing I had to tell them." With horror, Alasson realized how the family of Suryo's intended bride learned about the oath and false marriage, and now the source of the gossip chattered on as if it was the most innocuous thing in the world. "It was supposed to have remained a secret." "I don't see why," replied Savira. "It made such delicious gossip." "Didn't your father tell you to keep quiet about it?" Had they not been in a public place, he would have taken her by the arm and shaken her. "Do you have any idea what you've done? It's because of you that Suryo can't marry." Savira stared at him as if he had just told her she had blue hair. Gods, if I have to spend the next forty years tied to this empty-headed bitch, I'm going to go mad. With a tight smile and stiff bow, Alasson disentangled his arm from hers, went up to his father's office and instructed a passing servant to bring Khanis. 65


He only waited for his father to close the door before stating his business. "I will not marry her." Khanis gave him an uncomprehending look. "What nonsense is this? Of course you are going to marry the girl." "No, I will not." Alasson brought his fist down on the table to emphasize his point. "I will not take her into my bed after what she did to her own brother. She told everyone about the union with Suryo because it made such good gossip. Do you think I want to be married to that?" As always, his father remained implacable. "What you want is of no importance to me. I will not have the old feud rekindled because you refuse to do your duty." "I've done my duty." "Let me remind you that you've just been betrothed to this girl in front of three priests and forty-four witnesses," said Khanis. "You aren't going to insult Agamo or embarrass me by refusing. If you don't like the girl's tongue, then as her husband you may instruct her to mend her ways." "If I have to do that," growled Alasson, "it won't be with my fist but with my hands around her throat, you may be sure of it." In the corridor, he met his mother. The softness in her eyes told him she already knew the story. "You do not like Savira," she said. "Oh, Alasson, you're so impatient. You must give the girl a chance. After all, you didn't befriend Suryo in a day either." Alasson slumped against the wall. "I've seen all of her I want to see. Suryo was never petty, and he never hurt others for the sake of gossip." He pressed a hand to his face. "Why 66


do the gods do such things? They could have made the child in his mother's womb a girl—a girl—and my wife! It isn't fair that he must sacrifice everything and I nothing!" "Alasson, your father is right," his mother said. "You have to put this out of your mind now. Come downstairs. They're about to serve the meal and you must take your place at the table next to your bride." Though he had no appetite, Alasson choked down what the servants set before him and drank a little too much. The next day, his head throbbed and his belly ached. His mother brought him tea to quell his nausea, laid a cool cloth over his eyes, and gave him her usual advice to indulge with moderation. Most of the day he spent in bed, brooding and nursing his anger, before going down to supper on shaky legs. Dawn came with the first twinges of restlessness, pent-up static energy that by midmorning became a burning, twitching need to do something. Riding into the park would not suffice, nor would shooting at targets in the courtyard. Instead, Alasson felt the need to be cleansed, to make an offering, though he did not know what he should do. Saddling a horse, he rode through the Serpentine Gate, past the park, then through the massive Arvatates Gate toward the temple district. In the distance, he could see the slate rooftops of the temple complex; the sun glittered on the blue-glazed tiles with their twin images of the Snake Mother and Sky Father. Within the complex, large enough to be its own city, were the temples of at least eight other deities. 67


The gates stood open to admit worshippers. Alasson tethered his horse in an area set aside for mounts and chariots, received his token from the groom on duty, and entered the complex. In the plaza before the House of the Twin Brothers was a bazaar running a lucrative trade in votive statues, amulets, and offerings. Alasson shouldered his way past vendors urging him to buy sweet-smelling incense or a sacrificial dove and crossed over to the Temple of the Silver Hand. In comparison with the Houses of the Snake Mother and the Sky Father, which dominated the far end of the plaza, Píru's house was a small building, modest but elegantly appointed. Silver images of the Master Craftsman faced each other across the doorway, and in a large atrium, a whiterobed priest accepted clay tablets from worshippers; those who did not bring sacrificial animals or other goods outright offered vouchers stating they would pay later. Now that he had come, Alasson did not know what to do. He had not brought an offering and did not know what to ask the god or if he should even approach the shrine at all. Coming here was surely a mistake if he could not even decide what to do. "You seem lost," said a voice at his elbow. "The shrine for supplicants is down the corridor to the left." The speaker was a tall, middle-aged priest with a bland face. Alasson did not dare ask to see Suryo, and did not think it would be allowed. "I want—I'm afraid I don't know what I should do." 68


"Píru is not the god of oracles, young man," answered the priest. "For that sort of advice, perhaps you should consult with the priestesses of the Snake Mother." "No, you don't understand," said Alasson. "The god rules my fortune. He demanded something very precious from me—a sacrifice, but I didn't want to give it. Something brought me here today, but now that I'm here I don't know what to do." At this, the priest became interested. "My name is Edhan," he said. "Here, walk with me and tell me more about this sacrifice." Edhan led him into a courtyard, where he listened as Alasson talked. By the end, he had to admit that he did not know what to think. "Like all gods, the Master Craftsman works in odd ways, and I do not have an answer as to why this young man was not made a girl," he replied. "Now you speak of the need to make an offering, to cleanse yourself of your unhappiness. What would you give, if you had the choice?" "I would have given the same thing Suryo did, but he wouldn't let me," answered Alasson. "He told me I would regret it." "Ah, but he did that openly, in obedience to the promise his father made, while you would have done it in secret and suffered nothing." Alasson hung his head. "Then I'll enter the god's service, if he calls me. I don't want this marriage. The only thing I want is here." 69


Edhan shook his head. "A man does not enter the house of the god for the sake of another. Dedication to the gods must come with a whole heart, not a divided one, and you know we do not indulge in the flesh for a period of ten years. Could you truly keep your vow and not touch him for that long?" Only a priest or a trusting fool could believe such hypocrisy and Alasson felt no compunction about saying so. "Don't tell me you came with a whole heart. Everyone knows that priests are dedicated as children, whether they want it or not. Suryo is here because his father decided for him, and because he has nothing else." Signaling to a passing acolyte, Edhan instructed to bring someone named Hebiru. Presently, a stout priest wearing a fat silver armlet huffed out into the courtyard, sat down, and listened to the story. As he repeated his tale, Alasson learned that Hebiru was one of the priests who had admitted Suryo to the temple. "You say you want to become a priest," said Hebiru afterward, "but we do not take everyone who applies. That would be foolish of us. Suryo was accepted because he had been dedicated at birth as a sacrifice to the god, and because he has a vocation that suits him to the service of the temple." "I want to join him," said Alasson. Hebiru put up his hand. "Your heart is not truly with the god. Go home, bed this pretty young bride of yours, and make fine sons. Be prosperous in the wine trade. That is the path the god has laid out for you."

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"I can't go without giving something." Alasson hung his head in frustration, and suddenly recognized his offering. "My hair, take my hair the way you took Suryo's." "Only a priest may shave his head, young man," said Hebiru, "and only slaves have cropped hair. Go to the atrium and give a few coins to the god and—" "You don't understand," protested Alasson. "I can't give money. Don't you see: I have to give something that is mine?" Once they ascertained that he would not change his mind, or perhaps fearing that he would find shears and make the offering unaided in some dark place, the priests took him to a little room with a narrow window. Edhan ordered him to kneel and bend forward over the stone basin, where one of the priests slowly poured cold water over his head. The floor hard under his knees and his neck exposed, his hair dripping water down his back, Alasson trembled at his sudden vulnerability. A hand grasped Alasson's damp hair, pulling it taut. "Now the god will receive his offering," intoned Hebiru. Alasson heard the prayer, felt the strands of his hair part and tear away, and then it was done. Edhan combed his fingers through what remained, and Alasson felt the snip of the shears again, evening out the length. His hair, bound in a neat plait, hung from Hebiru's hand. "Will you give it to the god as you did Suryo's?" he asked. He already knew that his lover's beautiful hair had been a burnt offering given by Suryo's own hands. 71


On the ride back, even in the warmth of the afternoon, Alasson wore the hood of his cloak up, dropping it only when he reached home. The household gasped to see what he had done, but their murmurs were nothing to the tongue-lashing his father gave him. Everyone within the house heard it, and probably some of the neighbors as well. Alasson did not apologize or offer any explanation except to say that it had been a sacrifice. "Stupid boy, cutting your hair like a slave," grumbled Khanis. Once Khanis dismissed him, Alasson went to his chamber, shut the door, and brooded for the remainder of the afternoon. Near sunset, his mother came with a tray of food, which he did not touch. "Alasson, this wildness is not fitting behavior for a grown man," she said. "It'll grow back," he muttered. "It was mine to give. Father has no right to be angry." "First this business with your betrothed, now this. What do you expect him to think? You're so quick to judge," she said. "Savira is only fifteen, young and foolish, like most girls her age. Give her a child and motherhood will cure her of her silliness." Somehow he doubted it would be that simple. "I wish there was someone who could tell me what the point of all this was." "The priests could not help you?" Alasson shook his head. "They were hardly about to admit all this was some cruel jest of the gods." 72


"You foolish boy," his mother answered. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps the gods were interested in Suryo from the beginning, and that by making Agamo swear such a ridiculous oath and then holding him to it was the only way they could ever get him to dedicate his son?"

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Chapter Nine The wedding morning dawned clear and cold. Alasson lingered in bed until his mother came to wake him. She supervised the servants who bathed and dressed him, though he tried desperately to make her leave. "This is supposed to be a joyous day," she said, "and you will make it so, for your bride if not for yourself." Savira stood, a slender pillar of blood-red silk and jewels, between her mother and the priestess of the Snake Mother. When she saw Alasson's cropped hair, laughter began in her eyes. Silent, he glowered at her until, sensing something grave and unyielding in him, she regained her composure to meekly take her place at his side. Their parents had arranged for a traditional wedding with all the dower gifts and rites, but Alasson took no pleasure in it. The fuss, he thought, was mostly for women, who seemed to thrive upon such things. He would have preferred to get the religious and legal niceties quickly out of the way, consummate the union, and have the whole unpleasant business done with. Instead, he was obliged to sit beside the girl and exchange the customary embraces and kisses with a fixed smile upon his face. Any less and Agamo would have been insulted. At dusk, amid music and raucous banter, he went to the bridal chamber where his bride awaited him. She was beautiful and wanted to please him, but their lovemaking was 74


wooden. Alasson's only consolation was that she did not know enough about sex to realize how perfunctory his effort was. In the first lightening of the sky just before dawn, he rose from the bridal bed and went to the window. Below him was the courtyard and beyond the walls, he could see the tenements of the lower city wreathed in twilight and the pale smoke of hearth fires. Alasson leaned against the window casement and sighed. Someone told him once that priests woke very early. Suryo would most likely be up by now, shuffling bleary-eyed through the cold predawn to his duties, or perhaps he had not slept atall. No, it's no use thinking like this! Alasson knotted his hand into a fist, angry at his impotence against the whims of the gods. Had there been any justice at all, it would have been Suryo lying beside him in the bridal bed. Once or twice, he replayed his mother's words in his head. No, he did not believe it. He could not believe such a thing. Surely it was an easy thing for a god to claim a mortal for the priesthood without resorting to such trickery. What did we do that deserved this? No, it's always the sons who suffer for their fathers' sins, always. The oath had been fulfilled, life and business continued as before, and Khanis and Agamo could conveniently forget that anything had happened. He certainly had not seen any atonement on their part. While I am trapped in a cold marriage and Suryo—Had he been alone in the room, Alasson would have struck the wall, broken something. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his knuckles to stifle his cry of rage. Gods, no more 75


of this! You have to forget and let him go.

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Epilogue When a man's firstborn son married, it was always a grand occasion. Alasson had saved a year to pay for Essuryo's wedding, though it meant enduring his second wife's complaints that she would not have a new dress. "Once you hold your first grandchild," he told her, "you will forget all about it." "Ah, that is true." Of course, Felitha knew this, having become a grandmother through the son of her first husband, a business associate of Alasson's who had died untimely. Alasson, newly widowed himself, paid his respects to the man's family and, in need of a wife, visited her male relatives as soon as it was seemly. Savira had given him two sons and a daughter. She had never really been happy as his wife, but Alasson never gave her much reason to be. At times, looking at his children, he felt remorseful and wondered if perhaps her unhappiness led to her early death, but always it was a fleeting thought. Felitha was a jewel of womanhood, a competent housekeeper and companion who delighted both him and his children, and any lingering ghosts dissipated the moment she appeared. For a simple betrothal, it was not necessary to spend large amounts of money. Felitha, and even Essuryo, argued how wasteful the expenditure would be, but Alasson had no intention of stinting his guests, particularly when there were priests among them. Aside from the priestess who would preside over the ceremony, Alasson invited several priests of 77


the Twin Brothers with whom he had regular dealings and a priest of the Silver Hand who was interested in purchasing a dozen amphorae of his new Mittosian white. One could not afford to slight such people. His chief hope was that Essuryo would be happy with his bride, the sixteen-year-old daughter of a business associate. From the way they glowed when they looked at each other, Alasson could see their wedding night would be far more joyous than what he had shared with Savira. After the ceremony, as the servants hustled over their last minute preparations for the banquet, Alasson made his rounds to each of the guests, exchanging a few words with each. Most were relations or associates, including a few merchants whowere eager to talk business; he deferred them with his polite insistence that they enjoy the wine and the food about to be served. In the shadows near a pillar, he noticed a priest standing in silent contemplation. The pleated white robe and silver pectoral told him the man served the Master Craftsman, but this was not the priest whom he had invited. Now Thassur will think I have slighted him, and there will go the profits from a dozen very expensive Mittosian amphorae. Still, the man was a priest and one must always remember the proper forms around the servants of the gods. Alasson quickly found his smile. "I do not believe we have met," he said. "Is everything to your liking? Your cup is empty. Come, and I will find someone to refill it." "There is no need to take such pains," answered a quiet voice. "You have been a most excellent host, Alasson." 78


To hear his name spoken by a stranger with such familiarity was startling. Most priests seemed formed from the same mold, alike in their dress and shaven heads and that homogenous air of cultivated piety that clung to them wherever they went. This one had long, slender fingers and a thoughtful, almost sensual face. I've met this one before. I remember that face, but not when or where or even his name. "Certainly I hope you will convey my thanks to your order for gracing the occasion." The priest gave him a knowing look. "I know you were expecting Thassur. He is ill and could not come. He asked me to make his excuses for him." "Of course," said Alasson. "You're welcome to stay and enjoy my hospitality. When you see Thassur, tell him his shipment is ready for his inspection whenever it pleases him. I think he will be most satisfied with the quality." "You sound like your father, talking business on a festive occasion." Surely this priest was too young to have had dealings with Khanis, who had been dead for more than a decade. "I didn't realize you knew him." Whatever he said, the priest suddenly became flustered. "Forgive me, but I have already taken too much of your time. I should not keep you from your other guests." That's it, I've offended him. He wondered what it was he had said, but just as quickly gave up. Gods, but these priests are such a stuffy, oversensitive lot. "It was my pleasure. Please stay and enjoy the food and give my compliments to 79


Thassur when you see him. The Mittosian will be the best he has ever tasted." Several guests appeared, exclaiming their greetings and compliments. Among this press, the priest vanished. Outside by the court fountain, Alasson saw Essuryo standing among his uncles, nodding at the advice with which they were plying him. Well, there would be no more of that, Alasson decided. On his betrothal day, a young man ought to be with his bride, not listening to a musty lecture. There would be time enough later, once Essuryo and his new wife were settled, to establish him in the family business. Essuryo caught his eye and smiled. His looks favored his mother. Only in his shrewd grasp of figures and occasional quick temper did he resemble his father. Looking at him, Alasson had a sudden, inexplicable vision of the nameless priest he met earlier; the man possessed same sensual lips and dark eyes. It took him a moment to realize why. Oh, gods! It was all he could do not to run back through the throngs of guests to that corner to see if the man was still there. He walked as swiftly as decorum allowed, dodging wellwishers and servants, sure they could all hear the loud thudding of his heart. Inside the house, the priest was sitting with another guest on a bench near the household altar. Both men were engaged in a philosophical conversation that would have bored Alasson within seconds. His tastes have not changed. It took a moment to catch his eye. "Forgive me," said Alasson, insinuating himself as gracefully as he could into the 80


conversation, "but I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" Inconvenient though his request was, the priest politely made his excuses and went with Alasson into an empty corner office. Alasson waited only until the door was closed to let his composure fall away. "Suryo, why didn't you tell me? I had no idea it was you before. Gods, what an idiot I am!" Suryo made a show of inspecting the scrolls in their cubbyhole. He did not meet Alasson's eyes. "I am here in my official capacity as a priest of the Silver Hand." "The groom-to-be is your nephew. I hardly think 'official' is the word I'd use." "Clearly you did not recognize me, and I did not think it appropriate to force your recollection." Alasson gestured to the decanter of Mittosian white on the sideboard, indicating that Suryo should help himself if he liked. "I didn't recognize you because I haven't seen you in twenty years, and I've never seen you dressed like a priest." Suryo did not touch the wine. "What made you open your eyes? Surely not something I said?" "My son has your face." "I see you named him Essuryo." Neither question nor accusation, it was a statement so quiet, so straightforward that Alasson could not tell what emotion lay behind it. He nodded. "It seemed fitting at the time. He has turned out to be a fine boy. Have you met him yet? I will introduce you." Suryo shook his head. "I do not know if that would be appropriate." 81


"Why would it not be?" Alasson did not know what to say or do. The impulse that would have made him seize Suryo and kiss him was a young man's. Nowadays, he felt too stiff and conservative to behave like a teenager. "Essuryo knows he has an uncle in the priesthood; I've told him as much as was proper for him to know." "You told him about the oath?" "No, I would never tell him or anyone else about that." The air in the room had become awkward. An undercurrent of the old restlessness ate at Alasson, urging him to banish the tension with a kiss, an embrace. "Are things well in the temple?" "You mean, am I happy as a priest? Say what you mean, Alasson. I can see you fumbling for words. Is my being here so awkward?" "No, of course not," said Alasson. "I never expected you to come and now I don't know what to say or do." Suryo's eyes darted to the door. "Maybe I should not have come." "So why did you come?" Giving the sideboard a thoughtful look, Suryo helped himself to the decanter of Mittosian white. "I already told you: Thassur wanted someone to go in his place, so I offered. Perhaps it was merely curiosity. I do not get to leave the temple very often." "Answer my question, Suryo." Before he realized what he was doing, Alasson was standing next to him. Suryo smelled of soap and the unguents with which all priests seemed to anoint themselves. "Are things truly well with you?" 82


The cup in Suryo's hand trembled slightly. "It is not an unpleasant life," he answered. "It suits me far better than the wine trade would have." Alasson bit his lip against the urge to kiss him. "Before you leave, I want you to meet my son. He is so very much like you." "I take it to mean that he will cuff his bride on the nose on their wedding night?" The laughter that comment elicited was a welcome release from the tension that threatened to smother their meeting. "Essuryo will do no such thing. He's very fond of the girl and he doesn't even know about that incident." Taking a chance, Alasson placed a hand on Suryo's shoulder. "You must know by now that your sister, my wife, died some years ago. It was not—that is to say, we weren't happy together. She—" "She was the one who betrayed the secret." As Suryo turned, Alasson's hand slid over his heart. Knowledge rested in his gaze; this was no new revelation for him. "Yes, I knew almost from the beginning, but I didn't think you did. And you never forgave her?" "Did you?" Suryo nodded. "She was young and foolish, and being angry with her would not have changed anything. I wanted her to be happy in her marriage. I thought she would be." That slight reproach was not lost on Alasson. "I tried," he said, "but every time I looked at her, I saw you. It was difficult, and she knew it." "I do not blame you." Suryo fumbled in his robe, drawing out a dark, slender object that hung limp in his hands. "One 83


of the priests told me you made an offering the day after I was taken into the god's service. I took it before it could be burnt." Alasson touched the dark braid. Though his hair had grown back, seeing the offering he had shoved to the dark recesses of his mind was like looking upon a severed limb. Like Suryo, it was something he had lost to the gods and never thought to see again. "Píru would have been angry to have his sacrifice taken." "No, I gave something else instead and asked him for the token," said Suryo. Suddenly it did not matter to Alasson that he was fortyone years old, that he had gray in his hair, or that his belt was tighter than he would have liked. Once more, he wanted to feel the surge of young desire, when life and love were still new. "Just one kiss, before you go." Suryo did not pull away, meeting his need with lips that were still soft and supple. His kiss tasted of twenty years of priesthood and, beneath that, long winter nights that had belonged to Alasson alone. "I've missed you," breathed Alasson, "so very much." THE END

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About The Author L. E. Bryce L.E. Bryce was born in Los Angeles, California and has never lived anywhere else. She has a Masters in English Literature from California State University, Northridge, and currently works as an English teacher. Her Jewish mother, two dogs and passel of cats help her keep her sanity. She is a regular contributor to Forbidden Fruit Magazine and maintains a writing blog at lebryce.blogspot.com. Our authors love to hear from their readers! You can write to L. E. here: L. E. Bryce c/o Chippewa Publishing LLC P.O. Box 662 Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin 54729

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**** Lady Aibell Press www.ladyaibell.com a division of Chippewa Publishing LLC Catching Your Dreams of Fiction! www.chippewapublishing.com

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