A Lotus for the Regent (4 page)

“
She should be made to serve us,” said Lotus Tamra. “To wait at our
table, to be a maid to those who have been her guild-sisters.”

Ajalira
flinched. It would be a hard task to be brought so low in the sight of those
who had long accounted her an equal. It was still slavery, but at least it
would not be prostitution. And she knew that the Guildmaster would not, as he
would otherwise have done, give her as a common whore to the trainers, for he
would not want her horns and ears seen.

She followed
them back to the guildhouse, and tears flowed down her face. Evix had betrayed
her, and the pearl ship sailed without her. She would, she had no doubt, be
watched from now on. Escape would not be possible, except through death. And
death was still barred from her. She did not let her shoulders droop; she did
not bow her head. She might be sullied, a mere whore, but she was born of the
blood of the Tamari Kings.

Chapter
Two

Kamen clapped
his hands together once, and the sound resounded through the near-empty throne
room. “Be quick about it.”

The slaves
surrounding the boy-king bowed and made hurried movements with their hands and
feet, but they did not really work any faster. The boy-king, Jahen, sat on a
silk couch of gold and blue parallel lines and fed his turtle bits of red meat,
all while the palace slaves tried to put the finishing touches on him. One
slave bent forward and reached out his hand tentatively, hoping to apply a bit
of mascara to the boy's eyelids. Another pulled the black wig down around his
ears, covering his shaved head. Still another took the boy's hand and inspected
his fingernails. But through all this, Jahen squirmed.

“
Stop fidgeting, Jahen,” Kamen said.

The boy dropped
the last piece of meat in front of his lumbering turtle and sat up straight. He
locked eyes with Kamen and put on his best stern face, playing at the grave
expressions he saw every day at court. “Will Darien be coming today, too?”

Kamen shook his
head. “I doubt it. Darien's responsibilities keep him at sea most of the time.”
The Regent brushed his dreadlocks away from his face and threw the long strips
of soft hair over his bare shoulders. It was hot, but thinking about Darien
always raised his pulse a little higher. The day sweltered, and even here into
the shade of the palace's interior, the desert heat seeped. Kamen snapped his
fingers, and two slaves appeared with large fans made of peacock feathers. They
assumed posts both at Jahen's and Kamen's sides. The gentle breeze did much to
cool Kamen, but he could not banish his thoughts of Darien. How long had it
been since he had seen him last? Darien no longer came to court functions. He
stayed away, and Kamen knew why. Darien was his best friend; they had sailed in
the navy together, shared common quarters together, and yet Darien avoided him.
Ever since Darien learned of Kamen's true feelings for him.

“
Kamen!” Jahen's voice cut through the Regent's reverie.

“
What was that?”

“
I asked why.”

Why Darien
never came around anymore? “You'll see him again soon enough. Now stay still
and let them paint you properly.”

Once the
boy-king settled down, the slaves worked with surprising alacrity, and in no
time, Jahen was decked as a King should be. He wore hoops of gold in his ears.
They pulled a bit on his tender earlobes, but he would grow into them. His
magnificent wig had gold thread braided through it, just enough to make him
look kingly, not so much to look gaudy. The thick kohl brought out the dark
brown in his eyes, and the painted black wings that rose on either side of his
eyes were more readily visible on his paler skin. Though he was dark compared
to the white-skinned Vadal or Fihdal of the north, he did not share Kamen's or
any other Sunjaa's dark desert hue.

“
Magnificent,” Kamen said, striding over to stand in front of Jahen.
“You're the very image of your father.”

The boy-king
rose, and all the servants bowed low and scurried back in half-prostrate
positions without turning their backs on him. “And what of my mother?” He
splayed his hands out and looked down at his bare chest and stomach.

“
Her, too, of course. Sunjaa and Vadal royalty run through those
veins, little Majesty.”

“
But Sunjaa is better.”

Kamen nodded.
“Of course, though you don't want to say such things in front of our allies—or
our enemies.”

“
Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I see my mother.”

“
You never knew your mother, or your father, for that matter.”

“
But everyone else did. Every crusty courtier you let hang around the
palace. I know what they're thinking when they look at me. They're thinking
'half-breed'.”

Kamen knelt
down in front of Jahen and took the boy-king by the shoulders. He made sure he
had his full attention before he spoke. "Don't let anyone tell you that
you are anything less than the Sunjaa King, the scion of an unbroken royal
house stretching back before recorded time. Before our people came into the
West." He smiled. "Besides, you are the union of two mighty
kingdoms."

Jahen nodded
and then threw his thin arms around Kamen's neck and hugged him as tightly as
he could. An echoing thud drew Kamen's attention to the door. The old herald
stood there holding a long staff of wood and onyx perpendicular with the floor.
He slammed the staff onto the wide marble tile beneath his feet.

“
If it please His Majesty, the Fihdal delegation has arrived.”

Jahen released
his grip on Kamen's neck and walked away to resume his seat on the couch, not
the throne that sat at the end of the great hall.

“
You should receive the delegation from your kingly seat, Majesty.”
Kamen gestured to the streaked ebony-wood throne whereon sat the gilded busts
of Jahen's father and grandfather, the old kings' heads hand-rests for the
boy-king.

“
I don't want to see them.” Jahen plopped down on the couch and
reached over to grab a handful of long, green onions. He snapped one in half
and tossed it to the turtle.

Kamen walked
past the marble columns to stand in front of Jahen. “You must see them.”

“
No, I don't. They're at war with the Vadal, and aren't the Vadal our
allies?”

“
Yes, but that doesn't necessarily make the Fihdal our enemies. Their
kingdom borders ours along our northern coast, so it wouldn't do to anger them
unnecessarily.”

“
They killed my mother's people. I'll not see them. Tell them to go
away.”

Kamen leaned
over, coming closer to Jahen's ear. “You shall see them. This is precisely why
boys don't rule. You'd make enemies of the whole world. You're going to put on
your best King face and welcome the Fihdal to Arinport, and then you'll listen
to what they've got to say.”

Jahen glowered
at Kamen. “I won't forget the wrongs they've done the Vadal.”

“
No one is asking you to, Majesty.” Kamen straightened up and
smirked. “This is what it means to be a King: to smile though anger burns up
your insides, to speak honeyed words though you'd rather spit venom.”

Jahen nodded
once, his face a mask of childish gravity. Kamen turned back to the herald and
nodded as the boy-king took his seat on his throne.

Two men, their
sweating and irritated skin splotched pink from the heat, strode into the
throne room and approached Jahen with boldness. Their steps were a measured
march, their steady footfalls filling every silent nook of the cavernous
chamber. They looked at Kamen as they passed, but they did not speak to him.
They bowed only their necks to the King.

“
Your Majesty, Lord of the Sweetwater, Eternal Serpent Who Circles
the World, we bring you greetings from—”

They never got
to finish. A great cry rose up in the outer corridor, and then some running and
confusion. A guard set to watch the palace wall—his bare chest heaving from
exertion, his hands a mass of bony knuckles clutching his spear—burst into the
throne room. His wild eyes swept the scene until they found Kamen. He ran to
the Regent.

“
Lord Itenu, Ausir warships attack the harbor!”

Kamen did not
wait to hear any more. He sprinted from the room. “Get the King to safety!”

This was not
what he needed right then. Ambassadors had come from the north to meet Jahen,
and now this? The distant Ausir civil war had at last come to Arinport's gates?
But why would they attack the city? Why would they risk angering the Sunjaa, by
all accounts the mightiest nation of Men? When Kamen reached the palace wall
and whistled for a horse, he found sailors waiting for him. Some he recognized;
some he had sailed with and fought beside.

Kamen vaulted
into his saddle and wrapped the reins around his wrist, rearing his horse back.
“Report.”

“
Ausir warships going at it in our waters.”

“
Who's involved?”

“
No idea, but they're flying different flags. One's got fish, the
other deer.”

"The
Kimereth and the Losiengare," Kamen said to himself.

The sailors
just blinked at him.

Of course Kamen
could not expect any of these men to know the identity of two of the major
players in contention for the disputed Ausir crown. Kamen had prayed this day
would never come, the day he would have to make a choice about the war that had
devastated the eastern sea and threatened to pull every coastal city into the
conflict.

“
Where's the Admiral?” Kamen whistled for the gates to be opened.

“
Away. Up north, most like. Word was he'd sniffed out a pirate nest.”

Kamen could not
help but smile to himself. He loved the days when he and Darien had sailed
together and taken enough booty from pirates to make both of them fabulously
wealthy. He wished more than anything that his best friend were by his side
now.

“
Get back to your ships.” Kamen dug his heels into his mount's
flanks, and he was off. He galloped down the wide street that led away from the
palace grounds, but he quickly ran out of room. The avenue turned into a mass
of tangled alleyways as the splendor of Arinport's center gave way to the
harbor-side slums.

Kamen whistled,
and nearby guards took up the call. “Make way for the Regent!” After more than
a few narrow misses, Kamen sprang from a dusty alley into the fish market that
stretched from the wharf-front houses down to the water's edge. The smell of
the sea brought back so many memories. Kamen could not remember when he had
last had occasion to be at the docks, but he found it a refreshing change from
the opulence of the palace. He loved politics, and he was good at it, but every
once in a while, a man needed to break loose. That was why he found himself so
suddenly at the harbor thirsting for some adventure.

Fishmongers and
old women stared at him. They clearly recognized him by his long deadlocks and
serpent tattoo that sprang from its coil across his breast and climbed over his
shoulder. But deep scars marred the matchless art of the dragon.

Distant popping
sounds filled the air, and Kamen looked up. Grey puffs of smoke rose from an
Ausir galleon out at sea. Kamen sighed. That was just what he needed—having to
deal with damned Ausir technology. He rode down to the docks, dismounted, and
sprinted to the King's flagship, the
Aramina
, which lay with sails
furled in the harbor.

He stood at the
end of the gangplank. “Permission to come aboard!”

The captain
appeared at the railing. “Granted, Regent. Get your ass up here, Kamen!”

Kamen bounded
up, thrilled to feel the creaking of the ship beneath his feet. “Ruben.” He
embraced the captain.

Ruben held him
out at arm's length. “A bit fancy for going to sea, don't you think?”

Kamen had not
even realized that he still wore his gilded sandals and long, white skirt. And
he was still bare-chested.

“
Not to worry,” the captain said. “We'll get you a sea-jacket and
some proper boots.”

Kamen took the
spyglass the first mate offered him. He peered through its scope to see
ballistae firing from the lower deck of the Kimereth galleon and smashing apart
the hulls of the Losiengare caravels that were turning to flee. One galleon
would be enough to sink three caravels, and the Losiengare must have known it.
Kamen made his call right there: though two of them might get away, one of
those ships was going to end up on the bottom of the sea.

“
Did the Kimereth surprise them?”

Ruben shrugged.
“Don't know, but from the looks of it, I'd say so. There are a lot of islands
out there, as you know. Nice little places for an ambush.”

Kamen glanced
over at the captain and then peered back into the spyglass. “One hell of an
ambush.”