Sandstorm (16 page)

"Why would they protest? To have the Wild Desert back in Tavamara's fold would be a very fine thing. Those who stand against me will not like it, but to protest would be to reveal themselves. Still, the announcement should prove interesting."

Nanda frowned, fingers stilling where they'd been caressing Shah's chest. He lifted his head to frown in thought. "Are you certain of the Sheik? To make such a decision?"

"My father was a hard man. Not cruel, but hard. He did not praise lightly. When he told me I had fine instincts, and that I should always follow them, I took the words to heart. My instincts say this will work."

"Then there is nothing more to be said," Bey said with finality from the bed where he lay with Kiah. "Except perhaps to wonder what the Sheik will have to say about the matter."

Shah smiled and closed his eyes, curling into Nanda and settling in to steal a brief nap. "He will say he loves his Desert."

Twelve

A private dinner with the King of Tavamara was nothing to be sneered at, but Isra would have much rather been in his tent with a light meal and heavy book. Perhaps with someone to keep him company much later.

Instead he was staring at a man who was disconcertingly familiar.

"Wow," a man introduced as Beynum said. "It's just as you said, Shah."

"Incredible," Sahayl murmured from nearby.

Shah laughed. "I did not know you had a brother, Witcher."

Witcher laughed, blue eyes flicking briefly to Shah before he turned back to Isra. "Nor I." He shook his head, bemused. "It makes me wonder how many siblings I have wandering the earth."

"Obviously a penchant and talent for certain things runs in the family," Beynum said with a snicker, quickly moving behind the King as Witcher and Nanda both rounded on him.

Shah chuckled. "You can see," he said to Isra, "why I was a bit shocked when you first arrived."

"Yes," Isra conceded reluctantly. It was rather unnerving. They were almost perfect opposites

- Witcher pale and broad where he was dark and slender, hair pale gold to his own ink-black

- but the lines of their faces were similar, and the blue of their eyes was identical. A half brother. Surreal.

Witcher offered him a smile. "We shall have to talk sometime, if you are amenable."

"Sometime," Isra said.

Shah clapped his hands once. "Then let us sit and eat."

Obediently everyone obeyed, taking their places around the large square table.

Shahjahan took the seat that put him in direct line with the door. On either side of him were two men from his harem - Witcher and Kiah. Isra and Sahayl sat to the King's right - with him on Sahayl's left, Nandakumar on Sahayl's right. Then it was Bahadur, then the harem man introduced as Beynum, then Shihab, with Ikram and a man called Aikhadour on the remaining side.

He almost felt sorry for Sahayl and Bahadur, who were almost glaringly out of their element, if the slight frowns on their faces were any indication. While he'd never dined in such luxury, long banquets such as this were not strange to him.

Isra shifted his attention to the food and wine set out. A lot of wine. If there was one thing Tavamara loved above and beyond all else, it was wine. There were hundreds of native varieties and probably thousands more were imported. Just for this one meal - albeit several courses that would take them hours to eat - there was roughly twenty wines scattered about.

As the meal progressed, many would be taken away and others added. Also set out were dozens upon dozens of the shallow dishes used for drinking - some of fine colored glass, others of china so delicate they looked as though the slightest touch would chatter them.

"Saa, I admit to feeling rather out of place," Sahayl said quietly from beside him, lips curved in a rueful smile. "My thoughts went no further than making my request."

Normally Isra would have relished seeing a hated Ghost suffer. However, his debt to Sahayl could not be forgotten; his healing wound still ached. His fingers twitched, and he fought the urge to touch the scar on his face, a gesture that was rapidly becoming a rather annoying habit. Sighing at himself, Isra attempted a smile of his own and was surprised at how easily it came to his face. "When I came to Tavamara to study," he motioned to the food, "I made myself sick eating and drinking, as I wasn't used to any of it - or the sheer amount. Especially the wine." He shook his head, grimacing. "Shihab finally took pity on me."

"No," Shihab said with a grin, sipping at a wine dark gold in color. "I was tired of seeing good wine go to waste."

Isra glared. "As it shall when I dump it on your head," he snapped, hands wrapping around a carafe full of a pale, pink wine. "So behave."

Shihab laughed. "Go ahead, dump it. But don't expect me to help you when Nanda goes for your throat for wasting his favorite wine."

"It would be worth it, I think," Isra replied over the laughter of the rest of the table.

"Go ahead," Nanda said from his place beside Sahayl. "In return, you have to dump the Midnight on Bey." He pointed to a red wine that was so dark it almost looked black.

Bey paused with a wine dish halfway to his mouth. "Starting the games early tonight, are we?

If I wind up wearing wine, I'll make tonight quite painful for you."

"Save the threats for dessert," Shah said with a fond smile.

Nanda sighed softly and bowed his head. "If you insist, my King." He turned to Sahayl and motioned to the pale pink wine that had, for the moment, been spared. "This is Sea Rose wine from a town of the same name along the coast. They sell perhaps two dozen barrels of it a year. It has a light fruit and flower taste, but is extremely bitter. Perhaps not to your taste, as you are probably accustomed to Dark Spice - what we call your Desert wine. However, all wines should at least be tried." So saying, he poured a small bit of the pale pink wine into a shallow drinking dish, then lifted it to Sahayl's lips.

"What?" Sahayl asked, recoiling, starting to take the dish away. "You don't-"

"It's custom," Shihab said with a smile. "Also an honor, to be served by one of the King's men."

"Yes," Ikram said dryly, looking at his son. "Someone should have already explained such things to you, as I'm certain you spent several days traveling."

Shihab winced. "Yes, father. My apologies, Ghost Sheik."

Sahayl waved the apology aside. "It's not as though we had the time for such things." Still obviously disconcerted, he nevertheless sipped the wine as Nanda once more held the dish to his lips.

"And?" Nanda asked.

"It's not bad," Sahayl said slowly. "But your initial supposition was correct - I am far too used to my Desert wine. It has more…force."

Nanda smiled faintly. "Then next we try the Golden Hills wine." He motioned to Aikhadour, who passed down a carafe filled with a pale gold wine. He poured it into a separate dish, but did not lift it, instead reaching for a small bit of soft bread, which he fed to Sahayl.

Shah chuckled softly. "It would seem, my friend, that you have become Nanda's project. Be thankful it is wine and not music that he seeks to teach you."

"I will take the compliment buried in your words, my King," Nanda said primly. He sniffed as everyone at the table laughed, then lifted the Golden Hills wine to Sahayl's lips. "Try this one."

Sahayl obeyed, and Isra was struck by how…almost shy the man seemed, though none of his inherent authority dimmed. He smothered a grin, amused to see the Sandstorm so out of his element, determined to use it later - debt or no debt - and reached for an almond pastry and a carafe of his own favorite appetizer wine.

"Moonlight," Nanda murmured appreciatively, and Isra looked up with a start. "Another fine choice, but still not as good as Sea Rose."

Isra lifted a brow. "Sea Rose is too bitter to begin a meal, if you ask me."

"Uh-oh," Kiah murmured.

Ikram chuckled. "When I first arrived, I got into an argument with Nanda over wine. I did not attempt it again."

"Too bitter?" Nanda pressed, not letting them slide away from the argument.

"Beginning wines should be light and easy. Sea Rose is too complicated, and the underlying hint of saltiness clashes with most appetizers." Isra lifted his wine dish and sipped the wine he'd poured, which was faintly milky and almost seemed to shine. "Something like Moonlight blends far more smoothly, and helps ease the way to the heavier courses."

Sahayl looked between them, then across the table. "Saa, perhaps I should move."

"No," Isra and Nanda said together. Isra unthinkingly lifted his dish to Sahayl's mouth. "Try it, you'll see what I mean." Only as Sahayl cautiously tried the wine did Isra realize what he'd done.

Etiquette said that betters were served by those beneath them, though of course in the case of Sahayl he would never expect any of them to do such a thing. The King, of course, was always served by his harem. It was a show of authority, of luxury…but it could also be a show of intimacy, especially when any one of the men drank from their wine dishes and then held that very same dish up for the King to sip from.

Though everyone here would know he'd simply erred, had this been a normal banquet he would have just indicated to anyone watching that he and Sahayl were intimate.

Isra stifled his curses and was eternally grateful he was not the type given to blushing.

"And?" he asked, attempting to sound casual.

"I'm afraid to answer," Sahayl said with a smile, dark gold eyes brighter than usual. "Saa, it seems either way I will wind up wearing a wine." His smile turned into a quick grin as everyone laughed.

Nanda grumbled softly. "A weak beginning. Good meals require a strong start. But let us move on. Bey, you have the Mountain Water. Surrender it."

"Yes, oh bossy one." Bey refilled his own dish and then passed the wine along. He lifted it, grinning at Sahayl. "Best of luck to you."

"Thank you."

Isra made a face and helped himself to a slice of dark yellow cheese. As he sat back, he caught Shihab's eye and glared at the way the man smirked knowingly at him. "Be quiet."

"I didn't say a word," Shihab protested. "I'm just sitting here drinking and eating."

Bahadur chuckled softly, and spoke for the first time since they'd arrived for the banquet. "In my limited experience, little shadowfire, silence is the strongest indicator that you are causing or planning trouble." He grinned over his wine dish as everyone erupted once more into laughter.

"That round to the Jackal," Shah said with a grin. "I notice you are drinking the Midnight, a rare choice."

A faint smirk curved Bahadur's mouth. "My Tribe makes a very special wine, one I doubt even your fine table would have, Majesty. To the best of my knowledge, none but Jackal can drink it. Ask the little shadowfire."

"I'm not little," Shihab groused, but the pleased look on his face undermined the protest. "But he's right; they make it using valtyanar." He grimaced at the memory of being knocked out by a mere mouthful of the stuff. "It's quite potent."

"You will have to tell me how I can coax you into letting me purchase some of it," Shah said.

"A wine like that would vastly improve council meetings." He laughed with his harem, then accepted a cinnamon-dusted pastry as Witcher held it to his lips. "I can see where all the wines on offer would pale by comparison. Intriguing. Why do you make it so?"

Bahadur shook his head. "I could not say. It has been so for so long, the reasons are lost to the Sands." He smiled briefly, sadly, but it was gone quickly. "If I ever find myself find myself in a position to obtain some, I shall send it your way, Majesty. My advice is that your drink it slowly."

"Or not at all," Shihab said.

"Done in by mere wine?" Isra said, smirking.

Bahadur chuckled as he took another sip of his red-black wine. "I don't believe that's what got him caught, no."

Ikram winced. "I would prefer not to know, I think."

"I would prefer you not know," Shihab said, glaring at Bahadur.

Sahayl shook his head. "Fighting truly is in the blood of the Tribes. Even over dinner, we can not seem to help ourselves."

"Speaking of fighting," Shah said once the laughter had died down. "I am intrigued by your matching scars." He motioned to Sahayl and Isra. "Is there some significance?"

Shaking his head, Sahayl traced the scar on his cheek. "Merely marks of a meeting that did not go as I had hoped it would. Isra drew blood first, I merely returned the favor. Until quite recently, we met only with swords drawn."

Isra said nothing, merely poured more wine, this one a dusky, dark pink. He sipped it between bites of pale cheese. 'Not go as I had hoped'? What did that mean? Sheik Hashim had seemed plenty content to let the meeting devolve into violence, and while Isra had attacked first, Sahayl had reacted almost instantly to it. Had anyone really expected that meeting to end any other way?

"What is that one?" Sahayl asked, indicating Isra's wine. "So many wines to choose from.

How does one memorize them?"

Beynum laughed, careless and easy. "If you had to attend as many banquets and court sessions and meetings as we, you would memorize them all quite easily. Beyond that, Nanda is a strict teacher. Very strict."

"Not strict enough," Nanda said.

Aikhadour laughed. "I thought I turned out rather well, Nanda."

Nanda sniffed. "You showed initial promise, monk, but sadly you succumbed to the pirate's temptations."

"He's not the only one," Bey murmured, grinning shamelessly when Shah shook his head at them. He winked at the quiet man sitting next to Shah. "What say you, Kiah?"

"I say nothing," the younger man said with a grin. "It suits me fine to watch the rest of you get in trouble."

"Well met, colt," Witcher said from Shah's other side.

Ikram sighed. "Hopeless, all of you. Also hopelessly rude, to focus on yourselves and not our guest."

"We are most entertained," Sahayl said, "and honored by your kindness."

"Honored, nothing," Shihab said, ignoring the look his father gave him. "From what I've been hearing around the palace, you're doing everyone a favor by keeping them from the banquet hall."