Tivi's Dagger Read online

  He glared at me, but even the Protectors’ Code had no decrees against either of those activities, so he nodded curtly. “You have one hour. Then we will pray together before retiring.”

  “Yes, brother.”

  His glare intensified as if he doubted the sincerity of my response, but I looked back with my most innocent expression until finally he relented and trudged upstairs, followed by Lana, who looked dead on her feet. She gave me a little wave and I blew her a kiss.

  Kari stretched and yawned. “They say that the waters of this village have healing properties.”

  I wiggled my toes in my boots. “I hope they work on blisters. My feet are aching.”

  We took an armful of towels from the innkeep, but before we could take our leave, he began asking Kari questions in rapid Methari. I watched the expressions play across Kari’s face — serene politeness, mild surprise, raised eyebrows in what seemed like a denial. It was a melodic language, punctuated by sibilance and harmonious vowel sounds. In the course of their short conversation I was able to make out just a few phrases. The first was Thar Mati, which I knew to be the name of the shrine we were going to visit. The second, which I did not know but which they repeated often, was kath mai. The third was a form of the term of address I’d heard Kari and the Mother use, tiyallan. Visitors, guests, or something like that, I surmised. I had little talent for languages and contented myself with watching Kari bow to the innkeep and gesture toward the door with a smile.

  We stepped outside into the darkness. The sky was a blanket of gray, illuminated from above by the moon and stars. The inn’s garden was neat and smelt of recently tilled earth. Rows of green-leafed vegetables lined the path, peas in pods clung to lattices, and enormous marrows lay pale against the soil. All round us was a thick and tall stone wall where creepers grew, and beyond which I could hear the hush sound of the waterfall.

  I paused for a moment to close my eyes and breathe in the unfamiliar scents.

  “This is wonderful, everything growing so lush around us. It’s like…I don’t know…being in the middle of Creation.”

  A mischievous look appeared on his face. “But you are an unbeliever. You do not believe in Creation, surely.”

  His accusation shocked me to the core. Had we been in Lis, I would have been obliged to reach for my sword. The automatic denial died on my lips and I let out a breath, waiting to see what else he would say; this former monk who’d spent most of his life in a monastery and had no right to know anything about the world.

  Kari carried on with his character assassination happily. “When Brindar speaks of the Thirteen, your body tenses and you sigh and frown. You look upon Matativi with idle interest only, when even your brother shows a grudging acknowledgement. It’s what I meant when I said you cover no part of yourself, Ned. The Gods are naught but fairytales to you and this pilgrimage is a farce. You wear your unbelief as I once did my robes.”

  My mind reeled as we walked to the outhouse in silence. I had no idea I was so transparent. Kari was clearly much more perceptive than I’d given him credit for, and I was thankful that he did not seem to care what I believed in. I would have to steel my treacherous face in case Brin — who had seen more evidence of my feckless existence than anyone else, bar Lana — took it upon himself to deepen my faith under his whip.

  The outhouse was a crude wooden structure with damp walls and a rocky floor, over which tiny fungi and lichen bloomed. Thankfully, no one was inside. The pool was a natural one, deep and steaming with the same faint rotten-egg smell as the one we had bathed in back at Kari’s temple. Half of the candles had melted and burnt out, and those that remained cast a flickering yellow glow across the bubbling surface of the water.

  We stripped and folded our clothes into the wooden boxes by the door, and then eased our bodies into the depths of the pool. It felt wonderful to immerse my tired body in the warm water, and the aches and pains seemed to float away with the bubbles. I rested my head on the edge and let my body float, and Kari did the same. We looked through the cracks in the roof at the night beyond.

  “You see many things for one who has strayed from a monastery but once,” I said eventually. “I can think of no other who has ever named me so quickly.”

  “Servants of Matativi must be well-trained in navigating the depths of men’s eyes, tiyal. The un-named lands lie just beyond Thar Mati and it is not uncommon to find their missionaries and agents disguised in the silver and preaching their heresies among us.” He shook his head sadly. “To think they were once our brothers and sisters.”

  I floated lazily, listening contentedly to Kari’s mellow voice, remembering something I had once learned in a history lesson about the Old Kingdom of Methar and how it had once spanned almost the entire continent before separatists and religious fundamentalists settled like coffee dregs at its feet and founded the sovereign nation of Lis. The land to its north had disintegrated not a hundred-year previously and remained riven with tribal squabblings and skirmishes. The reasons for either of the Splinterings had long since left my memory, and — unconcerned with historical facts — I put the whole thing out of my mind.

  My hand touched against Kari’s briefly and I held my breath. Was I wrong in the feeling that was creeping over me, that he liked me? Then his little finger curled around mine and as the water lapped at my ears I heard the thumping of my own heart, the sound of my shallow breaths. That slight, soft touch was like a spark that ignited a fire of intense longing and anticipation that swept through my whole body. For long moments we floated together linked only at the finger, while time seemed to wash away.

  I turned to look at him. He was smiling, that beautiful wide smile and those expressive eyes that had captivated me from the moment I’d seen him. I realized in some small part of my barely functioning brain that his seducing me was not part of the plan.

  “Nedim,” he whispered, and I cupped his cheek in my free hand and planted a soft kiss to the right of his mouth. His skin was rough with stubble. With a sigh I realized how much I had longed for the touch of a man, and then his lips found mine and I thought no more.

  We kissed hungrily as our bodies floated to face each other. I buried my fingers in his damp hair, that glorious mass of dark, silky curls, as he stroked my chest hair and brushed the backs of his hands lightly against my nipples. Our tongues tangled together. I was almost mindless in my sudden need to touch him. I hugged his body against mine and found his stiff prick. His body trembled as I kissed his neck, his face, his lips again while my hand played up and down his shaft, faster and faster until, with a strangled cry, he threw back his head and spilled his seed into the water, the pulses in his cock matching the thumping of my heart.

  He was more beautiful than ever in that moment; the candlelight across his features which bore the agony of ecstasy and release, the long, shuddering sigh and the tremors in his hands as he settled them on my shoulders. Then his lips at my neck, whispering something in Methari that sounded like a prayer.

  I was so transported that it took a second for me hear the rattle of a key, to realize that someone was fumbling at the door.

  Quickly I released Kari and scooted away. Striking a nonchalant pose against the edge of the pool, I hoped the darkness would hide the hardness of my prick from whoever was coming in. The pool bubbled and steamed. Kari seemed to have lost his senses and floated about, gazing at me with a sleepy wonderment.

  The door opened with a creak and Kel entered with a towel over his arm, blowing on his fingertips. “Ah, here you are. Telthor’s balls, Ned, it’s freezing outside! We men of Lis are not made for this frigid mountain air. These blasted peaks are conspiring to hide the sun from us, I swear it! I fear my skin will grow as pale as a miner’s from the lack of it. Do you not agree?”

  I swallowed, trying to bring my breathing back under control. “I certainly do.”

  Kel rubbed his belly and emitted a belch. “That stew was truly delicious. You should eat as much of it as you can, for according to Bri
ndar we won’t be eating anything but forest plants and dried meat from now on.” With a sigh, he eased off his clothes and slipped in between us, glancing from me to Kari. “Are you well, Kari? You seem…”

  “Mm? Uh, yes. I am. Well, I mean. It’s been a tiring day.”

  “You’re telling me.” Kel floated on his back and allowed his limbs to drift out bonelessly. “Your brother would do well in the slave trade, Ned. I’m beginning to wish I had not agreed to come. Do you think he really would…?”

  Invoke a Rite, I was sure he was going to say, but then he appeared to remember Brin’s strict instructions that the Rite was not to be mentioned in front of foreigners. “Er…nothing,” he finished, clearing his throat.

  The ridiculousness of the whole situation suddenly seized me — the sudden thought of Kel bathing in Kari’s recent emissions, and the hardness and frustration in my groin that would not go away even while I was forced to make idle conversation…I burst into laughter and sat there covering my eyes while the water lapped at the side of the pool and my shoulders shook helplessly.

  “What’s so funny?” Kel asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Nothing, cousin. I am too tired to think properly. I was just imagining Brin whipping his slaves into line, that’s all.”

  Kel sighed. “It is a picture I can easily see, more’s the pity. That man needs something earthly to occupy his mind. Why has he not taken a wife, now that he is no longer a…”

  “Brin’s personal life should not interest you,” I cut in with a warning glare.

  Kel had not been out in society long enough to learn that in Azmara, a well-guarded tongue was as necessary to survival as meat and drink. As a Protector, sworn to celibacy, Brin had renounced all claims on the family fortune. Now, branded Apostate, he had no rights to reclaim it. By encouraging him to invoke the Rite my father was both sympathizing with and indulging my brother while simultaneously punishing me, thus satisfying both of his most natural impulses.

  I sighed. “We come from a fine family, Kel.”

  He looked glum. “That we do.”

  All this contemplation of our family had the desired effect upon my cock. I stepped out of the pool and took my towel. “I will eat, then sleep. Oh yes, and pray.”

  Kel laughed. “One day I would hear your prayers, Ned. They would certainly be interesting. Oh Thirteen Gods, may my sheets always be made of silk, may the wine at the Duck flow like piss from a cow, may the women be perfumed and plump, may…”

  “Silence!” A smile broke through my attempt at a glare. “How about your own? Oh Thirteen Gods, may someone pluck me from the library and find a wench to play with my poor little cock, lest it wither and die for want of use!”

  “Your arse speaks finely, cousin.” Kel grinned and then immersed himself fully in the steamy waters. His dark braids floated around his head like the tentacles of an octopus. “My mind and belly are satisfied; it is enough for me just now.”

  Chuckling, I dried myself quickly and pulled on my clothes. It was unpleasant to don the sweat-stiff materials again now I was clean, but one night was not enough time to dry the wretched vestments, should I have felt inclined to wash them.

  Kari was listening to our banter with a lazy smile. “I will stay a while longer, Ned,” he said. “To the dawn.”

  I made my way through the beautiful garden and inside to the room I was to share with my brother. He would surely be happy that I had not tarried on my excursion to the outhouse. Just as I was about to open the door I heard sounds from within and paused, pressing my ear to the wood. Brin was praying already. I knew I should not eavesdrop on my brother’s private entreaties to his gods, but I could not help myself. I clutched my damp towel to my chest and listened.

  “…Lord Rithmas, I was ever your faithful servant. But you have seen fit, in your infinite wisdom, to punish me so. Please, grant me the strength to bear it.” There was a silence punctuated by a snuffling sound, and I realized with a shock that my brother was weeping. “If you ever loved me, please let these travels be the salve. I can barely stand to live in such times, in such a manner. May Duty be the light that guides me from this darkness.” He mumbled a few more words then finished with a hiccup.

  I let out a long, silent breath and my fists clenched tight. Suddenly I wanted to march back to Azmara and burn the Protectors’ biggest Temple to the ground with all of them inside. I wanted to laugh while their flesh bubbled and roasted in the flames. I wanted them all to die for everything they had done to my big brother, whom I’d adored and idolized back when we were small boys building castles of sand and shell on the beach. The rush of intense hatred swept my breath away. It was not often that I wanted to defend Brin, but much as I loathed him sometimes, his tears burned me like acid.

  I tiptoed back down the hall and back into the bar where I ordered a bowl of stew to give my brother time to compose himself. I feared what Brin would do to me if he knew I had heard his prayers and his tears. The stew was hearty and filling. I chewed upon a particularly tough piece of meat reflectively, considering what duty my brother would embrace after our pilgrimage came to an end, now that his sole purpose in life had been kicked out from under him.

  When enough time had passed, I strode up the stairs and down to our room, whistling loudly so that Brin would surely hear my approach and be normal again when I saw him. He was already sprawled over the bed, gape-mouthed in sleep, his eyes puffy and red in the dim light of the candle. Glad that I would not be required to pray, I kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep well, brother,” I murmured, climbed into my own bed — stiff white sheets warmed nicely by a hot stone — and snuffed out the candle on a very eventful evening.

  Chapter 2

  My dreams were a whirling patchwork of the previous day’s activities, flashes of color and misty grays that bled together to form the sharp image of Kari in the pool, stroking my face, kissing me with hunger, his rough hands on my cock working me up to a vicious climax through a fog of warmth, the echo of my heart in my ears.

  When I woke up, beads of sweat had broken out on my forehead. The bedcovers were thrown off and rumpled under my naked body. Momentarily disoriented, I ran my fingers over the fluid pooled on my chest as I tried to catch my breath. I had not had such a wonderful dream since I was a teenager, sweating between the crisp sheets of my bunk bed in the school dormitory on those long, muggy Azmara spring nights, with my imagination fuelled to madness by arousing images from the long-forbidden Book of Love that one of the other boys had found stashed under the floorboards.

  Then I realized my brother was staring at me with furious eyes, wiping the side of his face with a cloth.

  “Even in your sleep you fornicate, you disgusting wretch! Your mind is truly riddled with impurity and evil imaginings. These are not the actions of one who seeks Serenity! I wake up to …” He scrubbed at his cheek again and I realized with horror what must have happened. “By the Gods, it’s clear you have no control of yourself, brother, nor shame. Cover your nakedness! Get on your knees and beg the forgiveness of the Gods!”

  He reached into his backpack and rummaged about with his mouth set in an ominous line.

  I knew what he kept in there and sat up on my elbows, alarmed. “Brindar, wait! I am sorry. I couldn’t help…”

  He spun round, his eyes narrowed. “Nedim, you can never help. It must be a sorry existence you lead, to be at the mercy of your flesh’s every sickening whim. But you are not yet lost. I will not allow it, do you hear? You can be a better man than this; I know it in my heart. You’ll thank me when you finally purge these passions from your body and achieve Serenity, as is the desire of the Gods. Now, on your knees!” He pulled the whip from his bag and stood up.

  “Please, don’t…”

  “Silence! Begin the Entreaties, and pray the Gods are listening!”

  My mouth was dry as I knelt at the side of the bed, hands clasped and shaking. As I began to recite the Entreaties of Purity, my brother punctuated my pleas with a stroke of th
e whip across my back. It was made of soft leather designed for instruction, not to cut the flesh. Nevertheless, the strokes brought tears to my eyes and I carried on with the Entreaties in as clear a voice as I could muster. As the words fell from my lips, I closed my eyes and took myself away from that dismal room and my brother’s rage, back to the porch at home, where the servants would soon be laying out breakfast — a circle of silver platters with a selection of the best dried meats, blue cheeses from across the sea, ripe tomatoes, and sweet tea in glasses. The scent of the harbor filled my head. I could almost feel the sun on my face as gulls laughed and circled overhead.

  When the instruction was over I allowed my consciousness to return to the room, shivering. Stripes of pain were stinging across my back. Brin’s breathing was as heavy as my own. Gingerly, I sat back on the bed and wiped the involuntary tears from my cheeks. When the material of my shirt scraped across my back I had to stifle a whine of pain. How was I supposed to carry a pack now?

  “You can pack your things onto the donkey,” Brin said, his grim expression softening a little. “As you walk today, fix your mind upon the teachings of the Thirteen. Purity of thought is beloved by the Gods, and it is the first step toward true Serenity.” He paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I love you, brother, despite your lustful heart and this feckless waste of a life you choose for yourself. This is for your own good, all of it. Often have I warned you that you’re in danger, although you do not seem to realize it. Lis is no place to live a life of sin. Especially not since Sardar Pol has taken charge of the Protectors.”

  “Yes, brother.” My voice was small and pathetic even to my own ears.

  It was Brin’s opposition to Pol — a man with beliefs more extreme than even my brother cared for — that had ultimately led to his expulsion and disgrace. Although Brin had adored his position as Protector, he was never fully at ease at home because — much as he enjoyed preaching over dinner — the reality was that our father was an elderly widower who liked more than the occasional glass of wine, and when he got lonely he would hire the services of a “tailor woman” who would come to “measure him for a new suit.”