11. Damon

11

DAMON

D amon knows he is a strong man. He has proved it time and again. The greatest warrior the Azurian Empire has ever seen. Nevertheless, his own private battle to stay away from Lyr is the hardest he has ever fought.

He assumed it would just take a little resolve to obey the Immurite. And that with some time he would forget Lyr. He would be the man he was less than a moon's turn ago. A man who had never met the beautiful slave from Klish.

But he thinks about Lyr every day. And every night as he lies alone in his bed, he wraps his hand around his cock, telling himself, each time, he will not think of Lyr's sweet face and scar-covered body, and ends up thinking of it as he spends, nonetheless.

Lyr, in the orchard, with Damon's hand on him. The way he looked as he gave himself over to pleasure at Damon's heavy-voiced command.

The way he called Damon, ‘Master', with thick lust in his voice .

On the morning of the Feast of Surrus, Damon receives a messenger demanding his presence at the Rose Court to speak with Selim about an important matter.

He suspects he knows what this matter is. He has heard the advance into Ik-Sundal is not going well. Battles have been lost and men have deserted.

He knows what the empire wants from him. The same thing it has always wanted. His body. His blood and bone. His skill in delivering death.

He rides through Attar early. The sky is a bright blue as he walks up the stone steps to the main building of the Rose Palace, through another set of carved doors into the vast, echoing public hall with its stone pillars and mosaic floor. The mosaic depicts a map of Azuria, Fanost and Vashti. Damon is walking over the tiles of the Amber Forest when Vindar emerges from the crowds to greet him.

"Master Damon Darekul," he says, his voice light and pleasant. He's a tall man, always neatly presented, with a spiked beard perfectly oiled. His manner is always calm. He is thought to be the greatest mind in Azuria. Nothing about his manner betrays a calculating intellect beneath, but Damon can believe it. Sometimes it seems that there is nothing Vindar doesn't know. "Selim is expecting you," Vindar says. "Let me accompany you to his shrine."

Damon nods. "You honour me, Chancellor," he says as he follows Vindar through the Golden Gates past the line of palace guards that mark the perimeter of the public part of the palace and the private domain of the Rose Court.

They pass into a long cool passageway, marble walls curve into an ornate carved ceiling. Every few paces is an alcove housing a statue of one of the heroes of the empire: Sarelik, of course, his children, King Damon and Lady Ferra, Zai Mother. Vindar's boots click as he says, "I have heard many tales of your great victories in Jur-Mattan, our One Man Army."

"Zai was with us," Damon says plainly.

"Indeed. Some fear he has deserted us now."

"His Imperial Majesty requires my attendance because of this?"

"Indeed. He is at prayer. But he is eager to acclaim his heroic nephew."

They walk through more beautiful marble passages and a hall of golden statues, these statues are much bigger than the ones in the corridor. The smallest of them is twice Damon's height.

They pass through and into a wide passage. Here one of the walls is inlaid with mosaic that glitters in the sunlight from the open terrace opposite.

As they get closer to Selim's inner palace the rooms and halls grow ever richer.

Eventually, they reach a courtyard whose wide grounds are covered with an elegant design of raked white stones. A path of slate marks the route across the stones to a small low building in the courtyard's centre. It is built entirely of the beautiful pink stone of the Rose Temple.

The Emperor's private shrine.

This is where Emperor Selim spends most of his time. Shuttered away, praying for his army's victories.

Vindar pulls the white silk rope by the shrine's door. A soft bell chimes.

The door is answered in a moment by Doroth Zain. The High Word. Zai as Man.

Doroth Zain is also Vindar's brother. Their sharp faces and high cheekbones are uncannily similar and the differences between them are slight. Doroth Zain is an inch taller. His beard is much longer and not as neatly kept and where Vindar wears a fine purple and gold robe, Doroth Zain wears a plain shift of grey and yellow linen. His feet are bare. The only richness to his appearance is a heavy chain of gold, holding a large mark of Zai. A twelve-pointed star in a circle.

"Chancellor Vindar," Doroth Zain says, "Zai, hold your heart."

"Zai, hold your heart, brother," Vindar says. "I bring Master Damon Darekul for his audience with the Emperor Selim."

"Ah, yes," Doroth Zain says, looking past Vindar to Damon. "He is expected. Please, Master Damon, leave your sword and come this way."

Damon unbuckles his sword belt, places it on the table beside the door and walks in.

The shrine is dark inside. A small space with no windows.

Selim does not give many audiences but when he does, he often presents himself in this small room. He rarely leaves, such is his devotion to his God. Damon can see the figure of the Emperor kneeling before a great altar carved with black stone images of Zai. They are monstrous figures, representing strength and victory.

In one corner a harpist plays soft music. The air is thick with incense. Frankincense and oud. Fires of scented wood burn in the corners.

Along each wall stand three Imperial Guards. On a small chair sits Selim's page.

In the very centre of the room is an ornate golden throne, glinting dimly in the light from the fires and the candles on the altar.

Damon steps towards it and sits down.

Selim turns from his prayers and walks towards Damon with his head bowed. He's a short, stout man with a bare-shaven head. He wears no crown and no shoes. His robe is plain white linen. On his forehead is a black painted mark of Zai.

Selim kneels before Damon on a low, padded stool. Damon closes his eyes, leaning back on the throne, as Selim removes the sandals from Damon's feet one by one in slow, delicate movements. This ritual always makes Damon feel queasy. He prefers not to watch it.

Doroth Zain brings over a golden bowl of rose water and places it in front of Damon's feet. Damon puts his feet into the bowl.

Selim lifts the small linen cloth and carefully wipes the warm water over Damon's skin. It's a pleasant sensation, but the intimacy of it makes Damon prickle all over.

"My dear nephew," Selim says, looking up from his ministrations. "Jur-Mattan is ours, part of our great empire. No doubt due to your prowess as a Darek warrior blessed by Zai's hand. I am in even greater debt to you. You bring honour to your father's name."

"I did my duty at your command, Your Grace," Damon says.

"Nevertheless, you remain the greatest of my servants. Oh, that I could have a hundred of you, I could take this whole world into the heart of Zai. Your father's appetite for breeding bastards would be nothing but a blessing if all of them were strong loyal warriors like you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Damon says to the strange compliment.

Selim smiles indulgently. "And now, with but one of you, we have run the Hevelikar out of Jur-Mattan. We will pursue them to Ik-Sundal and beyond. We will take this whole world if we must, to rid us of the scourge of the Hevelikar. Can I not persuade you to rejoin my army and be part of that great battle? We could use your strength in Ik-Sundal. The Imperial Army aches from your loss. I know your sentence is long served but many join the Imperial Army as freedmen. I could give you very generous terms. Lands outside the city perhaps. A second wife?"

"Your Grace," Damon says, taking great care with his words. "When my sentence ended two years ago you were very generous. I agreed to finish the mission to take Jur-Mattan, in your honour, but no more. I have no more appetite for war."

"Perhaps I was too generous," Selim says with a soft chuckle. "I gifted you too sweet a life to return to, Damon Darekul. Sanglora is a fine manor. I have given you many servants — and your bride Lady Inez is a fair woman from a good family. She will give you sons."

"You have given me more than any bastard born would ever expect from a great Emperor, Your Grace."

"Perhaps after some time idling in your fine manor, you will regain your taste for battle."

"If I do, Your Grace, I know there will be a place for me."

"Always for you, first son of my brother and heir." Selim pauses. "I have asked Vindar to arrange a small celebration of your achievements," he says. "A Hero's Gala. It breaks my old heart to have you leave my service, but I cannot compel you. I will delight in all you have done."

"There's no need," says Damon. In truth, he can't think of much worse than the thought of an Azurian Hero's Gala in celebration of him and his blood-soaked career.

"I am afraid that on this, I will insist, Master Damon. Your achievements are a great example to the citizens of the empire. How you took a sentence made as punishment and wrought from that such glory for yourself and the empire. I will present you with the Order of Azuria."

Damon sucks in a breath. The Order of Azuria is an unthinkable honour for a man such as him. "Yes, I see, Your Grace. For the glory of Azuria and Zai, I will be delighted to attend."

Selim runs his hands over Damon's feet, looking up at him. "However, the gala would be the perfect place to announce your return to the front." Selim pauses, humming. He runs his wet hands a little way up the back of Damon's legs. "And I am considering making you Warden of Vashti."

Damon does not do anything to show how much that startles him. The Order of Azuria is one thing. An honour, but a token. Warden of Vashti is a different offer entirely. There will be a price for such an honour. And a high one. It's not hard to guess what it will be. "By rights," he says, "Endrew holds that office as Duke of Vashti."

Selim nods. "When Ik-Sundal falls, as it will, I will make Endrew Warden there. He will not mourn the loss of Vashti. Ik-Sundal is rich in gems and minerals and will be our gateway to the eastern lands and The Cradle."

"I see, Your Grace." And there it is. When Ik-Sundal falls. A simple bargain. Take Ik-Sundal and you can be Warden of Vashti. "Ik-Sundal is mostly desert," Damon says, wondering if he is truly considering this. "A desert campaign will not be easy."

"You would do well in Vashti," says Selim. "Your namesake ancestor King Damon conquered Vashti for the empire. He spent most of his life there."

Damon nods. King Damon, who rebelled with his traitorous Hevelikar mother and killed his own father, then turned against her, did years of penance and went mad. What a name to be saddled with. But this is certainly an intriguing offer. He has to confess, Selim has discovered just how to tempt him. If he was sent to Vashti he would be far from the centre of the empire. Far from Attar. He'd be far enough away that any rumours about his preferences in bed would surely be whispers on the wind.

He could take Lyr there. Perhaps even have Lyr share his bed if he was so far away. But at what cost? How long would defeating Ik-Sundal take? Jur-Mattan had taken two years. Could he ask Lyr to wait that long?

Could he bear to? No, he thinks clearly, even for such a prize he could not bear to return to war.

"You flatter me, Your Excellency," Damon says. "But I am six and thirty summers. I have a wife to bed and sons to raise."

"I see," says Selim, sweetly, "Then perhaps we should discuss your soul. Prince Atticul was eager to inform me that you insisted on bringing a male whore back with you from Pellex. And shared a cabin with him on the Azuria Ascendant. Of course, sins committed at war are something Zai understands. My prayers in this very room include penance to wash you of them. But as you are in Attar now and no longer a soldier they do concern me. I hear you have kept this whore. Is he meant for your bed? Has your old sin followed you home?"

Damon swallows as Selim's cloth wipes warm water around his ankles.

Selim continues, "If it is true that you have a male whore for your bed in Sanglora Manor I will have to ask you to hand him over to the enforcers. I know Atticul relishes any chance to have you brought low. He is a jealous boy. He has always been this way. Do not give him fuel for his spiteful fires. Hand the whore to my enforcers and I will execute him. Your soul will remain clean in the eyes of Zai and the Rose Court. Unless, of course, you plan to return to war. Then, things could be different, for you and this Juran whore."

Damon keeps his breathing even. This is no surprise. He knew the news of what he brought back from Jur-Mattan would reach Selim's ears. And he knew what Selim would demand. The only surprise here is the additional consideration, the offer, Lyr's safety and Warden of Vashti for conquering Ik-Sundal.

But perhaps he can keep Lyr safe without needing to take Ik-Sundal for Selim. Damon had a plan of what he would do when he was asked to surrender Lyr. And he realises this plan will be more effective now than he ever realised.

Because he knows why Selim wants to take Ik-Sundal.

"Your Grace," he says, considering the delicate line he must walk here. "Atticul was wrong about the providence of the whore I took. He was not for Prince Ramel's bed. He belonged to Queen Jareleezi. He was her favoured slave."

"Oh," Selim looks almost startled at the idea. He sits back on his heels. "So he is not a whore for the beds of men?"

"No," says Damon. "He is far more than that. Your Grace, I understand you entrusted Prince Atticul with a mission in Jur-Mattan."

"You know of his mission?" Selim says tightly, revealing nothing.

"I do and I know he failed."

"You should not speak of these things, Damon," Selim says as he leans forward to continue his washing. His fingers dip into the water and slide between Damon's bare toes, but his voice is sharp. "Some things are great secrets. You are bastard born. You should know your place."

There is a small sound, the guards standing a little straighter. Tightening their grip on the weapons they hold. Damon looks down at Selim.

"I know about it because I deduced it. Atticul was looking for something. He tried to get information from King Ramel but his torture was clumsy and Ramel died too soon. You should not have entrusted this to Atticul. He has poor control in the aftermath of battle. And he would have executed the slave, if I had not taken him. He belonged to Jareleezi, the Dowager Queen. He knows her secrets. Atticul sent my ship, The White Watch after her. I have already extracted from the slave that Jareleezi would not have gone to Ik-Sundal."

Selim looks quite overwhelmed by this information. His voice quavers as he says, "Jareleezi is the last Hevelikar. A descendant of the evil family that once ruled Azuria. She thought she had found a safe haven to work against us, married into the royal family of Jur-Mattan. She was wrong."

"Not so wrong, she did escape," says Damon.

"She took a great treasure with her," Selim says. "Stolen from the Rose Temple two hundred years ago when Sarelik drove the Hevelikar out of Azuria. I must retrieve it. The Books of Alios."

Alios. The prophet of the sun. One of the Sidusia, but older even than that faith. The Books of Alios could be very ancient. Damon nods simply and says, "Jareleezi's slave has already told me that she conducted many magical rituals with him and when she fled, leaving him behind, I think she may have told him where she was going. And no doubt she took these books with her."

Selim shakes his head in wonder. "Perhaps I should have trusted you with this mission. I am a fool to prefer Atticul for this when you have proved your skills time and again." He picks up a second linen cloth. Damon takes his feet from the bowl, which is whisked away by Doroth Zain. Selim uses the dry cloth to blot the moisture from Damon's feet. "I think it might be useful for you to bring the slave here. Let him spend a little time with Gelen the Green and his enforcers."

This was always the risk in revealing Lyr's truth — that Selim would demand Lyr's secrets were extracted under torture. But Damon has a plan to protect Lyr from Gelen the Green. A plan that involves doing something Damon has never done before. Using the rumours about him to his advantage. "The slave trusts me, Your Grace. I think I will get more truth from him than Gelen the Green."

Selim looks up at Damon with narrow eyes. "You said he did not serve Ramel in his bed. You said he belonged to Jareleezi. Does this slave share your weakness?"

"He does, Your Grace. And he and I have a bond."

Selim still looks unsure. "Is this slave Hevelikar?"

"No. He was bought in the slave market on Klish."

"Is he Priam?"

"I do not believe so."

There is a pause. Damon holds his breath, thinking, if Selim insists on taking Lyr from him and subjecting him to the enforcers of Zai he will have no choice but to run. He will take Lyr and run. They'll find a place. He'll find somewhere.

Eventually, Selim says, "Speak to the slave further yourself."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Keep him at Sanglora. Protect him and tell no one that he was owned by Jareleezi, let them continue to believe he was King Ramel's whore. Find out everything he knows about where his Mistress took the Books of Alios."

"Very well, Your Grace. "

"If Jareleezi has not taken refuge in Ik-Sundal we do not need to press our armies into the desert. I will change my offer to you Damon. I will tell you what I truly want from you, as my trusted nephew. Do not bring me Ik-Sundal. Bring me her. Find out where Jareleezi took her treasures and Warden of Vashti is yours. I will grant you any favour you wish. Your heart's desire."

Damon had not expected Selim to make him such a generous offer for this information. He cannot imagine how important those books must be that this is Selim's price just for the location of Jareleezi. He nods. "You honour me, Your Grace."

Selim picks up Damon's sandals one by one and gently puts them back on, wet fingertips sliding over skin. Finished, he bends slowly and plants a kiss on the tops of each of Damon's feet with a soft sigh. "No, you honour me, brave son of my brother." Then he beckons his page to help him stand from the cushioned stool. The sturdy blond boy with a pale face steps forward.

Selim takes the boy's hand and gets to his feet then touches the boy's cheek. "You remember your uncle Damon, don't you Umbert?"

Damon looks at the boy. He did not recognise him, but he has not seen Umbert since he was a babe. His half-sister Ferra's son. The son of Chancellor Vindar. Umbert looks at Selim. He has that haunted look that all of Selim's pages have. They spend much of their days in this tiny room, attending Selim, breathing smoky air and watching this ritual.

"He has grown." Damon smiles at the boy. "I am one of your grandfather's bastards." The boy's face changes with something like recognition. He might not know Damon's face but he must know him by reputation .

Umbert holds out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Sire. Are you The One Man Army?"

"Yes." Damon takes the boy's hand. "How is your fair mother, the Lilac Doe, my beloved sister?"

"She is still weak, uncle. But Zai watches over her. She wishes to join the Brides of Zai when she is well."

"Indeed."

Selim says, "Please, Master Damon, now you must leave me. I must return to my prayers."

"Very well, Your Grace," Damon says with a small bow. "Zai, hold your heart."

"Zai, hold your heart."

Outside the temple Damon finds Vindar waiting for him.

"Umbert seems to be growing well," Damon says, as they start to walk back, retracing the route they took from the Public Hall.

Vindar shows little emotion at the mention of his son. "He is a strong boy," he says.

Strong enough to spend his days sitting on a stool watching the Emperor chanting to his God, Damon thinks, before he says, "How is my sister? Umbert says she remains weak."

"The Lilac Doe is still plagued by ill health, I am sorry to say. I worry for her."

"As do I."

"The physicians say she will not bear another child," Vindar says, as they reach the hall of golden statues. Many of Damon's ancestors are here. The statue of King Sarelik, in the centre of the hall, is twenty feet tall, with garlands of white flowers at his feet .

"I am sorry to hear that. Are you considering petitioning for another wife?"

"I have not asked Selim to grant it. Doroth Zain has declared that a second wife may only be granted to a childless union, and we have Umbert. Nevertheless, I may have to speak to him about this, I suppose."

"Doroth Zain may reconsider."

"Quite," Vindar says. Although he says no more. Vindar rarely speaks frankly of his own family. They both pause by the statue of Sarelik and Vindar says, "I have received word of your brother Lukas."

"Indeed," Damon says. He swallows. It is hard not to assume this news will be bad.

Vindar puts a bony hand on the small of Damon's back and leads him away from the statues towards the door. It feels as if he wants to move away from the statue of Sarelik for whatever he wishes to say next.

Vindar says, "Several moons ago, he was caught stealing in the vile markets of Lunatum."

"Was he hung?" Damon knows the enforcers of Lunatum are brutal.

"He lives. My eyes in Lunatum tell me he only lost his hand."

"His hand." Damon feels sick at the thought of it. "They took his hand. Where is he now?"

"He has returned to the Mortingale Outlaws."

"They allowed him back?"

"I believe so. As a one-handed beggar, he would struggle to survive anywhere else. He has been styling himself Silverhand. "

"That sounds like him," Damon says, although he feels sour in his stomach at the thought. He doesn't doubt the tale is true. Vindar is never wrong.

Vindar says, "And he has a lover amongst them, I believe. A male lover who claims the title The Red Wolf. " Vindar says this coolly. He is only casual with information if he thinks it will gain him something.

His point is clear. If he knows this much of Lukas, far away in the Mortingale Mountains, how much more must he know of Damon?

"Lukas's position," Vindar continues, "is still precarious because many of the Mortingale Outlaws blame him for the failure of the assassination attempt you foiled. Many of them died that night and in the purge of the mountains that followed, although it is astonishing your brother got away. He should have been trapped in the centre of the palace with the rest of them, and yet, he vanished like smoke. It puzzles me still. Do you know how he escaped?"

Damon clenches his jaw. "I do not. That night was bloody chaos."

"Truly," says Vindar. Together they walk through the high marble archway into a passage leading from the statue hall. Vindar says, "Your brother Tobi still travels with the Copperhead Circus. I've always thought it strange that a circus be named for a kind of rat. But I suppose in some ways, it is appropriate. Tobi Darekul styles himself Prince Tobi Darek, Beast Tamer."

Damon laughs. It comes out louder than he expected. Echoing off the stone wall of the long passage. He only spent a year with Tobi, long ago, but that sounds like him. He says, "And Kerik?"

"Kerik is still missing."

"Still? There is no word of him throughout the empire."

"None. He has vanished as surely as Lukas vanished from Selim's chambers that night five years ago," Vindar says, cool as an ocean breeze .

"If even you cannot find him I believe he must be dead."

"Perhaps," says Vindar. "Lady Ilyne seems to think so. She has asked Doroth Zain to allow her to commend him to Zai."

"Does that not require a body? Or a witness to a body?"

"Normally, it does. But Ilyne has always been persuasive. She has had so many audiences with Doroth, I think he may allow it — if only to rid himself of her."

This is almost certainly the nearest thing to a joke Damon has ever heard from Vindar. Perhaps this is because he enjoys talking of his brother's suffering.

Doroth Zain, the High Word of Zai, is a terrifying man. The only men in the Rose Court who are more terrifying are Vindar himself and Gelen the Green. Lady Ilyne is admirably fearless if she is pestering Doroth. She always had such ambitions for Kerik. Damon would not be surprised if someone had him killed.