6. Lyr

6

LYR

L yr wakes alone in the cabin. Damon is gone. He realises the ship is not moving. They have docked.

Lyr's head is heavy as he gets up and pulls on his white alit. His memories of the night before are hazy. He drank a cup of strange wine. He didn't care for the taste but Damon had left it for him and he assumed it was simply some kind of Azurian liquor.

But it was foribunda. He knows that now. Jareleezi had given him foribunda many times to create her strange magics. But the memories of the night before are not sour, as they were when he woke in his tower room after a night of Jareleezi and her drugs and rituals. Last night comes back to him in fragments. And it is sweet and painful.

He gasps as one image forms with a hot rush of feeling. He remembers lying naked in the cot with Damon, shirtless behind him, holding him and whispering poetry in his ear.

But where is Damon now?

There is no sign of him in the cabin. But there is a carafe of fresh water on the table and a small cup. He drinks most of it and wonders what he should do.

He looks around. Damon had told him so many times not to leave the cabin, but he isn't sure that still applies now. They are docked. Damon is gone.

Lyr walks through the cabin door and up on deck. He is hit instantly by a sudden wave of light and sound and smell. He is used to small dark places. His tower room in Blackstone Castle, the tiny cabin.

But now he is in Attar.

Attar. The Shining Jewel of Azuria. The home of the empire.

The greatest city in the world.

The ship has arrived at Attar's docks. On deck people scurry back and forth, moving crates of goods off the ship and onto the dockside.

Lyr looks around. There is no sign of Damon. The docks are loud and bright. This is the biggest and busiest place Lyr has ever seen. Ships great and small, loading and unloading, extend for what looks like miles all along the dockside. Beyond, a city rises above him on a swell of higher land, buildings covering a collection of hills. So many of them.

Lyr rarely ever had a chance to see what lay outside Blackstone Castle. But Attar is clearly more than ten times the size of Pellex and makes any city on the islands where he grew up look like the tiniest village.

Towering over the docks Lyr can see shacks and slums and great manors and taverns and temples, all crowded together.

Highest of all, set on its own great hill is a palace. A huge complex of pink and brown stone with a tangle of uncountable intricate columns and turrets reaching into the sky. So vast it is almost a city unto itself .

Lyr knows this must be the Rose Palace. Even on Klish, he had heard of it. The greatest palace in the world. Under the Hevelikar, it was a magnificent Artemian temple. When Sarelik Darek took control and declared that Azuria would follow the new faith of Zai, the Rose Temple was demolished and rebuilt as the Rose Palace. Now it is home to the Rose Court — Emperor Selim and all his advisors and his line. It is strange for Lyr to realise that Damon must have lived there as a child.

He is looking up at the palace, wondering where he should go, when a tall thin man comes up to him. The man looks him up and down. "You Lyr? From Jur-Mattan? Slave property of Master Damon Darekul?"

Lyr nods at the man. "Yes," he says, supposing that is, indeed, who he is now.

"He told me to collect you. Come with me."

"I'm looking for Damon. Damon Darekul."

The man smiles as if this is amusing. "Were you expecting him to escort you himself? Master Damon is a busy man. He has travelled ahead to Sanglora to oversee his estate and his household. He has requested you travel with us. You will be taken to the manor and given a place in the kitchen where you will begin your training."

"Training?" says Lyr. "Training as what?"

The man looks Lyr up and down again, taking in his torn white alit and bare limbs. "I don't know what sort of duties you have been used to in Jur-Mattan," he says as if he definitely does know and finds what he knows disgusting. "But Master Damon has asked me to find you work as a scullion. A kitchen slave." He squints. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Lyr nods. "I speak Artemian. What kitchens? Where are we going?"

The man sighs as if this is quite exhausting. "We are going to Sanglora Manor, the home of Master Damon Darekul, One Man Army of Azuria. My name is Kres. I am the Seneschal. The keeper of Master Damon's Household. Please follow me."

"I see," Lyr says.

"Do you?" Kres rolls his eyes. "Come on then."

Lyr follows Kres through the docks and the trading posts beyond until they reach a cart, which is being loaded with rolls of cloth and chests of gemstones and other fine things, many of them with a distinctly Juran look. These must be Damon's share of the spoils from Pellex. Spoils of which he, Lyr, is simply another.

"And who's this?" says a red-faced woman, turning from where she is loading crates onto the cart with another woman and a stout, strong-looking man.

The other woman, much younger, smiles at Lyr. "Master Damon has brought many treasures from his war," she says in a sweet musical voice. She wears a grey shift of roughspun, but she's very pretty, with full lips and glossy brown hair.

"At last. Master Damon, home to stay," says the first woman. "Bless Zai," she adds as she climbs into the cart.

"Give thanks to Zai," says Kres, climbing up beside her. He gives the younger woman a smile and offers his hand to her and she climbs in too.

Lyr assumes he is meant to follow and gets into the cart. Sitting down opposite the younger woman on the wooden planks.

She smiles at him and says, "Master Damon has never brought a slave home before. What is special about you?" She gives him a look that is quite suggestive.

"I don't think he meant to," says Lyr. "He did it to save my life." He wonders as he says this, if he is going too far, revealing too much. But Damon had saved him in front of a hall of drunken men. The story would come out soon enough.

There's a shout from the cart driver and a jolt as it starts to move, rumbling into the bustling streets of Attar. "Kres," says the young woman, "what are we going to do with him?"

"Master Damon suggested the kitchen," says Kres.

"Ooh, you can work with me," says the younger woman making an amused face, her pink mouth in a shocked circle. "If you are really a kitchen slave." Despite the way she leaned close, she does not say this particularly quietly.

" Mina ," Kres snaps. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

Mina shrugs. "I just thought it, because he is dressed like a pleasure slave."

"I was a pleasure slave," Lyr says, remembering something from the night before in a rush. Something that is not a sweet memory.

He'd told Damon, hadn't he? He'd told Damon that he wasn't really part of Ramel's harem. He'd told Damon he belonged to Jareleezi and what she had done to him and after that…

After that Damon had been different.

His first thought, his worst thought is, did Damon know the truth? Had his confession been enough for Damon to understand that Jareleezi had sent Lyr to him? That she had a plan for Damon. A plan Lyr was part of?

Lyr doesn't think so. Even out of his mind on foribunda, he's sure he'd never spill that secret. The lost memories come tumbling. All he knows for sure is that Damon had wanted him. Damon had kissed him. Damon had been going to make love to him. Until he discovered Lyr belonged to Jareleezi and then he'd been different. Revolted. Lyr crushes down the twisted mess of feelings that causes. He has no place to put them now. In a cart in Attar, travelling to Damon's manor to work in his kitchens. He has told Damon the truth about Jareleezi, but no one else must know. This is Attar. This is Azuria. No one must know he was owned by the last Hevelikar. He says, "I was part of Prince Ramel's harem."

This statement, clearly, is shocking enough to distract everyone else in the cart from any strangeness Lyr betrayed when he remembered Damon's reactions to him.

The younger woman, Mina, nudges the older one and they both giggle. "Oh, Zai," says Mina. "Truly?"

"It's not surprising," says Kres sternly, clearly he is not amused by this. "We know the Hevelikar filth fled to Jur-Mattan when Sarelik rose. Of course they brought their decadence there." He looks at Lyr. "I hope you understand that you will not be a pleasure slave here in Azuria. Not unless you want to be gelded and executed in the Punishment Square."

Lyr nods. "I know. It is a sin of the body."

"Indeed," says Kres. He turns to Mina. "And it would do you well not to suggest your Master is tainted by such sin. Not if you want to keep your tongue. He brought this slave back with him to work in the kitchens."

Mina says nothing. She looks back at Kres sourly.

The cart trundles on. The other servants are quieter, whispering to each other and looking at Lyr.

The journey takes some time. The cart travels slowly up one of the hills. The streets become wider. The air of Attar that, down by the docks, had been pungent and smoky, becomes sweeter and fresher towards the outskirts of the city.

Lyr is glad when the cart rumbles to a stop outside a pair of iron gates in a high, ornate wall. The driver hops down and opens the gates, then drives the cart through them into a wide open space of neatly kept gardens, flowers and fountains. Beyond that is a fine manor house of white stone. Sanglora.

Sanglora. Blood and glory. A strange name for a beautiful manor house. But perhaps an appropriate one for a house Damon earned with his skills as a warrior.

Despite the name, everything about the Sanglora estate is peaceful. The violence that won Damon this home left far behind.

The cart rolls around the house and stops next to a long stable block.

Climbing down, Lyr finds himself in a yard. Small white stones cover the ground, sharp on his bare feet. The cart's driver is attending to his horses. The other servants are already unloading the cart.

Lyr looks around. The yard is surrounded by a brick wall about the height of a man. Lyr cannot see over it, but there is an iron gate in the middle that stands open and through that, Lyr can see a glimpse of the rest of the gardens. Huge beautiful gardens. Flowers and trees and rolling lawns. Such a strange thing to see in the middle of a busy city. The street the manor sits on was busy with carts and people, but here, just yards away, it's like another world.

Damon's world. Damon's manor. He is rich, Lyr thinks and then scolds himself. Of course he is rich. He may be a bastard, but he is a Darek. He is the eldest son of Prince Rafus, the Crown Prince of Azuria. He is wealthy beyond dreams.

Lyr turns. Mina is carrying a large bolt of red linen from the cart. She waves to him. "Lyr, come this way. I'll show you around."

Lyr follows Mina through a low door at the back of the manor that leads into a warren of storerooms. Mina stows the fabric in a large room full of other rich goods and then leads Lyr down a whitewashed passage and into a wide kitchen. The space is frantically busy. A firepit takes up most of one wall. At least ten people are working, mostly at a wide wooden table that fills a large part of the centre of the room.

There must have been a kitchen as big as this, probably much bigger, in Blackstone Castle, but Lyr never saw it. He's never seen anything like this. The heat and noise and people .

He is to work here. Will he ever get used to this?

A stout woman in a stained white apron turns to look at Mina. "Who's this?" Her face is red and sweaty.

"This is Lyr," Mina says. "He's a pleasure slave Master Damon brought from Jur-Mattan. He was in King Ramel's harem."

At this, all kinds of murmurs go around the room.

"I see," says the stout woman, looking distinctly unimpressed with Lyr. "Then why in Zai's holy name have you brought King Ramel's whore in here?"

"Master Damon has instructed Kres to find him work in the kitchens," Mina says, seeming proud of her knowledge of Damon's commands.

The stout woman shakes her head with exasperation. "Very well. If that is Master Damon's order, I can use another scullion. But he can't work in here dressed like that. Mina, take him to the male servants' quarters. Assign him a bunk and find him something suitable to wear. Something that doesn't look like it was designed for him to spread his legs in."

Lyr feels his face pinken as Mina laughs. She seems pleased to have custody of Lyr's induction to the manor. She takes Lyr from the kitchen through a maze of corridors until they reach a big room with bare brickwork walls and two rows of low beds.

"Male servants' hall," Mina announces. "I don't know which beds are assigned. I don't come in here often. But you'll sleep in here. When your duties are over you can find out which ones are free."

Lyr nods. How strange, he thinks, to sleep in a room full of people. He has spent years sleeping alone in his tower room or, on occasion, in Jareleezi's ritual chambers. Never in a room full of people.

Mina walks over to a trunk. She opens it. It's full of crumpled linen. She pulls out a white shirt and a pair of brownish breeches. "You're pretty small," she says, holding them up, "but these should do for the time being. Better than going around in that thing," she gestures at the alit, "anyway."

She hands them to Lyr.

"Get dressed," she says. "I'll turn my back."

Lyr is grateful for that. He didn't expect to get privacy as an assumed ex-pleasure slave, but it is a relief not to have to answer any questions about the ritual markings that cover his body. As he gets dressed Mina says, "Will you miss being a pleasure slave?"

"No," says Lyr. "I don't think so."

"You might. It's easier work than kitchens I think. I have a sister who works in one of the big pillow houses in Gleamview. She always used to say it was better than being a scullion. But that was before Doroth Zain said being paid for pleasure was a crime against Zai and if she leaves the pillow house now people spit at her, so I am glad I didn't do that."

"Who is Doroth Zain?" says Lyr, tucking the shirt into his breeches. The clothes are old but the fabric is very soft.

"Who is Doroth Zain?" Mina sounds surprised at the question. "I didn't think anyone could not know of Doroth Zain. He is the High Word, Zai as Man."

"The head of Zai? The religion? I'm dressed, by the way. You can turn around."

Mina turns. She looks at Lyr, assessing him. "You look cute. Master Damon will be pleased."

Lyr feels his cheeks pinken again. "Do you know him? Master Damon?"

Mina grins as if this is amusing. "Oh no. Not at all. Never met him. He was away at war for years. The last time he was home was for his wedding. He stayed one night. That was when he was given this house, but he had to take Pellex for Selim's favour. I know about him though. Everyone does."

"What do you know about him?"

Mina's pretty big eyes go wide. "Oh, everything. Master Damon was the greatest warrior in the Imperial army. The best fighter Azuria has ever seen. He was only nineteen when he fought so well against the rebels on Pluma-Ferris they called him The One Man Army and he was commended by the Emperor. And five years ago, he was visiting the Rose Palace when it was attacked by the Mortingale Outlaws. He saved Emperor Selim's life."

"Oh," says Lyr. Damon had told him something about that.

Mina nods, hitting her stride and continuing. "And then he became a great General, with the strongest and best battalions under his command. When his twenty years service in the army were over, and he wanted to leave and return to Azuria, Selim begged him to stay until the conquest of Jur-Mattan was done, because without him they would never win the holy war against the last bastion of the Hevelikar. Selim offered him this great house and the Lady Inez as his wife. A bastard having such wealth has never been seen in the empire before now. But Damon earned it by bringing such glory to Azuria. Some people say it is a shame for Azuria that Master Damon is bastard born because he would be the greatest Emperor Azuria has ever known."

Lyr is intrigued to hear again that there are yet more people in Attar who think Damon ought to be Emperor. "Could that ever happen? Could Damon become Emperor?"

"A bastard cannot be emperor," says Mina. "Fathering a bastard is a crime against Zai and Damon was born of a sin, but Selim favours Damon greatly. Some say that when Selim dies and his brother Prince Rafus rules, he might wish to change the law and name Damon as his heir."

"Would he?"

Mina shrugs, "I'm sure I don't know how Prince Rafus thinks. But people do say so. People say it would be the right thing for the glory of Azuria."

"It might be fair to guess Rafus isn't against adultery. The sin that stains Damon was his sin."

"Exactly." Mina laughs. "You'd think he might forgive Damon a sin he committed himself. And after all Master Damon has done for him. I still can't believe you didn't know who Doroth Zain is. Don't you follow Zai in Jur-Mattan?"

"No. Most people follow Artemia. Although I think there are many faiths. Lucent and Alios too."

"Those are all false faiths. Heresy," says Mina decisively.

"But I'm not from Jur-Mattan, I'm from Klish."

"Klish?" Mina's expressive eyes stretch wide. "Oh? Are you in the Cult of Priam?"

Lyr shakes his head. "No. Priams are seen as strange madmen. Even on Klish. "

Mina laughs. "Priams are lunatics. I heard they turn into dogs at full moon. We should get back to the kitchens, come on," says Mina, taking Lyr by the arm. As they leave the servants' hall, Mina says, "I met a boy once. He told me the myth of Priam was true. But I never saw him again."

"Maybe he turned into a dog and never turned back."

Mina laughs. "Something happened to him for sure. He was sweet on me. I'm not surprised though if he was going around telling anyone he met that the myth of Priam was true."

"That is a crime here too? To say the myth of Priam is true?"

"Yes. But that's because it's not true." Mina says, leading Lyr back through the maze of corridors.

"A lot of things are crimes in Azuria," says Lyr.

As they arrive back at the kitchens, Mina says, "Only things that are wrong."

The stout woman tells Lyr her name is Nalla but he should call her Cook. Cook puts Lyr to work scrubbing pots and fetching water. It is hard work and leaves him with plenty of time to wonder where Damon might be.

When will Lyr see him again?

Will he send for him?

But he doesn't. When night falls, Cook gives Lyr a bowl of mutton stew and some bread. It tastes good and his body aches from the day's work.

He is allocated a spare bunk in the servants' hall where some of the other male servants are sitting up and playing cards and dice, drinking cups of ale or something bright green from small, squat glasses. None of them speak to Lyr. But he's so tired, all he can do is fall into his bed. It's narrow and hard. He thinks of the small cot in the cabin on Atticul's ship.

He thinks of Damon taking off his shirt and holding him. He thinks of the foribunda humming through him.

He thinks of how much he wanted Damon to take him.

He thinks of how no one would have known if Damon had done it.

But Damon refused him even when he begged.

And somehow that makes Lyr desire Damon far more than if Damon had made love to him.