A Lotus for the Regent (11 page)

“
Tamari?” The Regent's dark eyes narrowed. “What faction do they
follow?”

“
I do not know,” said Ajalira, and shame suffused her cheeks that
that should be so. “I have been six years in the Dimadan. My mother fled the
upheaval that started the civil war. We ended in the Dimadan, and I have dwelt
there ever since.”

“
Ah.” The Regent nodded.

“
It is the Tamari way,” said Ajalira. “You have saved my life, and
thus my battles and all their glory belong to you. I will lift my blade at your
will from now until my death.”

“
But you're just a girl.” The Regent shook his head. “And anyone who
would send you into the battlefield should be gutted. You deserve better than
that.”

Ajalira smiled.
“I am, I freely admit, no more than a girl. But I am a Tamari, and we do not
ever forget our debts.”

“
I do not acknowledge this debt,” said the Regent. He raised her hand
to his lips. “I do not account you to owe me anything at all. Rather, I am
grateful for your warnings in the guildhouse. What?” He interrupted himself,
and Ajalira knew he must have seen the look of disgust cross her face.

“
The Guildmaster knew, sir! I mean, Your Grace. He heard no less than
I did. He and his Lotuses knew.”

“
I suspected as much.” The Regent's smile was wry. “No wonder he was
angry with you. Doubtless he would have offered me the information later … for
a price.”

“
Despicable.” Ajalira could not help herself. “He was your
host.
”

The Regent only
then seemed to realize that he still held her hand, and he released her.
Ajalira's skin went cold without his warmth.

“
Will you do me the honor, Ajalira of the Tamari, of dining with me
this evening?” The Regent fixed her face with his eyes, and Ajalira dropped her
gaze. She could not continue to look into those burning black eyes.

“
I am your shield-maid, sir,” said Ajalira. “I will be there.”

“
No,” said the Regent clearly. “If that is your reason, then I
dismiss you altogether. I will see to it that you are given whatever you might
require and sent back to your Tamari.” He turned away from her and resumed his
seat at the desk. He dropped the bone onto the wood of the table, and Ajalira
caught the upwelling of sorrow in his eyes.

“
Please,” said Ajalira. “I would like to dine with you.”

“
Then I will be glad to see you. Unfortunately, I have much business
just now.” He gestured to the desk, and Ajalira noticed that there were stacks
of maps on it, mostly naval maps. “I have to set a trap for the Losiengare near
Masnaport.” He smiled. “In the meantime, you will be given quarters and
whatever you might need.”

Ajalira bowed,
Zenji-fashion. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

****

Ajalira shook
out her hair before the mirror. For the first time in six years she did not
have to hide her horns, and she intended to make the most of the opportunity.
Alone among the Lotuses, she had always dressed her hair herself, and she
smiled as she piled and twisted the heavy, golden locks. She brushed the hair
away from her horns, and she allowed her ears to peek through the braid. She
had cast aside the Zenji clothing the Guildmaster had sent with her. She would
never again wear the garments that, for her, meant only slavery and whoring.
Instead, she wore the gown the serving-girl had laid out. It was a simple dress
of white linen, and the smooth, flowing lines pleased Ajalira.

The translucency
of the gown, however, was a shock.

“
Is this … all there is?” asked Ajalira, turning to the girl.

“
Yes, mistress.” The girl was smiling broadly.

“
But...” Ajalira looked back at the long mirror. She could see the
pink of her nipples. Of course, as a Lotus, she had had no pubic hair. It had
been painstakingly removed, and it would not now grow back. But had there been
any left, Ajalira was sure it would have been visible, too. Every inch of her
skin, including the purple bruises left behind by the Lotuses' fists, was as
clear as if she were naked. Yet aside from that, the gown was beautiful. The
sheer white linen was finely woven, and it was cool in the sweltering Arinport
heat. The gold straps contrasted with the white of her skin and the white of
the gown, and the gold belt hugged her hips. Small sandals had been provided,
and Ajalira laced them over her ankles and up her calves. Even the sandal laces
were visible through the gown.

“
Do you require anything else, mistress?”

“
No, thank you.” Ajalira backed away from the mirror. Without the
pallav, her left forearm was bare. Her Lotus tattoo was visible. “Yes, please.
Are there any bangles I could borrow?”

“
Yes, mistress.”

A quarter of an
hour later Ajalira was ushered into the private dining chamber of the Regent.
She did not know what she had expected, but seeing the Regent standing in the
archway overlooking the palace gardens was not it. His back was to her, and she
had a moment to observe him unnoticed. His long, black hair was tied back with
a gold cord, and the white linen of his skirt came down to his mid-calf. The linen
was as translucent as her own, but he wore a little loin-cloth beneath. The
linen hugged the lines of his buttocks, and the ripple of his muscles beneath
his flesh reminded Ajalira of Tamari poetry. Broad gold bands ornamented his
biceps, and as he turned to face her, she saw the gold shawl-necklaces resting
on his chest. He had worn official court garments to receive her, and Ajalira
felt the blood burning in her cheeks.

“
Your Grace.” She bowed, Zenji-fashion, and he held out his hand to
her.

“
Please,” he said. “Call me 'Kamen'.”

“
Kamen, sir.” Ajalira went to him and laid her hand in his waiting
one. “Why did you avoid me on the ship?”

Kamen laughed.
“Because I intended to set you free as soon as we reached Arinport, and I did
not trust myself with you. I might have liberated you at once, and then, I
assumed, you would have asked for a lifeboat and left.” He raised her hand to
his lips. “And I could not have given you all the things your beauty deserves.”

Ajalira felt a
dart of shame. The Regent was looking at her with such softness, such
tenderness, that he must assume her a maid. She was not a maid, not any longer,
and she did not deserve his gentle looks.

“
I would not have left, sir. I owe you all my battles, all my glory.”

“
But I didn't know that.” Kamen's smile did not quite touch his eyes.
He escorted her to the table, and she sat down. He sat across from her, and
Ajalira could not taste any of the food. She listened as Kamen spoke to her. He
did not discuss politics, whether Ausir or Sunjaa. Rather he spoke of Sunjaa
poetry and Ausir music, of sailing across the Meshkenet Sea, and Ajalira could
have listened to him forever. In answer to his queries, she told him her
opinions on the merits of the ancient Sunjaa poet Aren in contrast with the
more modern verse of Urilen.

“
I hadn't expected you to have heard of Aren,” said Kamen, laughing.
“He is my private hobby, but no one reads him anymore.”

“
I cannot think why,” said Ajalira. “His work is very patriotic, and
he praises the Sunjaa unity, even as they had to sail from their birthplace. Is
that not a popular sentiment among the Sunjaa, sir?”

“
Kamen,” he said. “And the sentiment is popular. His dialect—not so
much.”

Ajalira smiled.
“For an Ausir, there is little difference in dialect between now and the first
Ausir who awoke in the farthest west.”

“
Will you take a turn about the garden with me, Ajalira?” Kamen rose,
leaving his empty plate, and held out his arm to her.

Ajalira took it.
She could not remember if she had eaten anything. She hoped so, for she did not
wish to insult the Regent's hospitality.

The sun had
already set, and the cool of the evening was over Arinport. The royal gardens
were green and quiet, despite the bustling city beyond the gates. It was
Ajalira's first time to see a human city, but she did not even try to look
beyond the garden walls. She walked leaning on Kamen's arm, and the feel of his
hand on her skin, even so innocently as on her forearm as they walked, was a
comfort.

“
Look.” The Regent stopped and pointed up to where the two moons,
both full, poured their mingled light down through a fountain. The moonslight
touched the fountain with purple, and Ajalira smiled. It was a vista worthy of
Ausir aesthetics, and she looked up at Kamen.

“
Thank you.”

Kamen responded
by leaning his mouth to hers. His lips pressed against hers, and Ajalira closed
her eyes. The Regent's lips were soft, and when his tongue pressed against the
seam of her mouth, she opened to him without thinking. His tongue was in her
mouth before she recollected herself. The last man to kiss her so had then
immediately tried to murder her. And she was not worthy of such a man as the
Regent.

She pulled away,
and her tears flowed down her cheeks. “Forgive me, Your Grace. You—I should
not—I am—I—”

“
Kamen,” he said. “And I apologize, Ajalira. I did not intend
offense. I thought that you—never mind. I will not oppress you further.” He
dropped her arm and stepped back, bowing.

“
No!” Ajalira grabbed his hand. He deserved to know the truth of why
she must keep her distance. “It is not that you have wronged me, sir—Kamen. It
is that I am … sullied.”

“
What?” Kamen, whose eyes had seemed to be blacker than the night sky
above them, now stepped forward again. “What do you mean? Who has hurt you?” He
glanced down at the purple bruises visible through her gown.

“
I mean this.” Ajalira pulled off the bangles on her left arm. “I was
a Lotus once.”

“
A Lotus?” Kamen caught her hand, looking at the tattoo.

“
But not a very skillful one.” Ajalira traced the outline of her
lotus-bud. “I achieved nothing beyond the first petal in anything but
translation.”

Kamen shook his
head. “But you were a kitchen maid.”

“
Yes.” Ajalira hung her head. “I was twelve when I first came to the
Dimadan. I dwelt among the Lotuses because I had a debt to repay. I was to be a
Lotus. A slave and whore.” Ajalira disengaged her arm from Kamen's clasp.

“
Lotuses are not slaves or whores.” Kamen's brow furrowed.

“
When I realized that I no longer owed the Guildmaster anything, I
tried to run.” Ajalira ignored the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “He
said no one had ever done such a thing.”

“
I can believe it.” Kamen took her hand once more. “To be a Lotus is
accounted a high honor.”

“
But it is not.” Ajalira looked down at where Kamen's dark hand was
closed over her white one. “It is shame. It is slavery, for a Lotus belongs to
the guild. It is prostitution, for the Lotus must give her body to men not her
husband.”

“
But a man must woo a Lotus,” said Kamen. “Always. No Lotus can be
forced.”

“
But these men are never legally bound to the Lotus.” Ajalira was
trembling, but she could not stop herself. “And the Lotus-trainers take the
Lotuses, too.”

Kamen cocked his
head to the side. “So you considered yourself a slave?”

“
And a whore.” Ajalira pulled free of Kamen to cover her face. “So
you see, sir, you ought not to kiss me.”

“
I can see that I ought not,” said Kamen gravely. “But not because
you are … what you called yourself. Rather, because you are too freshly injured
to endure me.”

Ajalira felt her
shame rising like bile in her throat. She wanted to run from Arinport, run from
the Regent, because she wanted him. Because his kiss was sweet like wine.
Because his heart was noble. Because his eyes held all the sorrow of the world.

“
Good night, Ajalira. Everything you require will be given you when
you depart tomorrow.” He turned and started back toward the palace, but he
stopped some three paces from the weeping Ajalira. “But I hope that you will
not go. Please.”

Ajalira wanted
nothing more than to take hold of Kamen and cling to him, but she would not
sully him with her touch. Still, she would stay with him as long as he wished
it. Her life-debt required no less, and for the first time, her duty was
pleasure.

Chapter Six

Kamen swept out
of his room and down the narrow corridor. The morning was already sweltering.
Slaves scurried behind him, two trying to clasp gold bands around his biceps,
another fussing with his swaying dreadlocks. His body slave trotted beside him
clinching a scroll in his fist.