The Rhaz Estate
Nearly a month had passed since Khimi’s visit to the Temple of Life. He sits behind his long walnut desk in the lord’s study of the Zeybek estate. With a wistful sigh, he stares far past it, though, and out through the large window across the room. A frequent occurrence at the estate: around half a dozen city merchants would crowd into his smoky office and badger him with their concerns. All of them traced a connection to his family’s Cerulean Star. However, rarely was it the same men and even rarer was their conversation productive. Before, in his intervening years traveling, Khimi much preferred life in Rhaz when compared to life in his childhood city of Sidi. It is known as a complicated, beautiful creature; he had once felt comfortable here in its vibrant cityscape and with its metropolitan concerns.
Now, staring out at the street below, he struggles to recall those warmer feelings for Rhaz. He glances back to the gaggle of the day’s bothersome consortium members. Before Khimi can stop himself, a sigh falls from his lips. Regardless, he doubted these gentlemen heard it–there was little he said that got through to them. In truth, he wants desperately to let out a groan of real dissatisfaction; he might have paid to see these merchants’ reaction if he were to stand up and beg them to leave him in peace. Instead, he stews in silence and allows the men to bicker among themselves.
Khimi had found his mind so muddled in the month that passed since the caravan had returned from the Temple of Life. Even now, his thoughts drift to Lumi, as had been inevitable these past weeks. Khimi recalls the acolyte’s scent, a sweetness that lingered about him. Was it rosewater? Peach blossom? he wonders absently. Khimi could not remember the last day he had in which his thoughts were not all but consumed by the young acolyte. Over and over, he would envision their next meeting. He hopes that, next time, he can maintain his own composure. Rather, his oppressive fantasies of the aslan cause Khimi to doubt his ability to hold back from touching him.
He is roused from his familiar drift by a loud squawk from his irate houseguests. He levels a steely gaze at the merchants; recently, too, his patience wears very thin. Croaking a loud ahem, he interrupts the merchants’ circular debate. “Gentlemen. Then, if there is nothing else,” Khimi says, allowing his sentence to trail away enigmatically. He stands from behind his desk and nods to Rashid outside the room.
Rashid hurries into the room through the curtained doorway. “This way, please–yes, thank ya–Lord Zeybek has a busy schedule today,” he says, ushering the men from the room, but not before he sends a curious glance at Khimi.
With his office finally empty, Khimi collapses back into his chair and slumps in his seat. Restlessly, he bothers the skin of his palm between his teeth. He knows his patience wore very thin today and it happened very quickly. He grumbles to himself until Rashid enters the room. Rashid faces his charge with his favorite expression of parental disappointment. Khimi can’t be bothered: he turns away from his advisor to stare out the office window for the umpteenth time. He worries at a loose golden thread of his embroidered kaftan. Khimi had always found the garment itchy, stiff and unbearable.
Rashid clenches his teeth, shaking his head. He leans against the desk. “Ya need to learn to control y’rself, Khimi. Making ya angry, that was their intention from the start!” Rashid exclaims, tilting his head with a sigh.
“I hear you. Calm down,” Khimi sighs, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the tabletop of the desk. “I cannot see why I should entertain them when I will not agree to their demands, Rashid. Would Ziad have thought different? Especially at the risk of losing that whole collection of trade agreements.” He feels suddenly exhausted by his own machinations. He sighs again, once more slouching in his chair. He looks at his advisor with his most pitiful face. “I hate this, Rashid. Every day I miss the feeling of freedom. The thrill of raising my sword in combat… or of doing anything that feels the slightest bit meaningful.”
Rashid crosses the room to sit on the edge of the desk. “Might a drink calm y’r nerves?” Rashid asks, producing his small flask of ouzo from beneath his lilac waist scarf. “It’ll calm my nerves,” he adds with a quick nod and flash of his teeth. After he indulges in a long quaff from the flask, he passes it towards Khimi.
Khimi smiles wryly and produces his own flask hidden on his person. He shakes it so Rashid can hear it is already half-empty. “How is it possible that they always come back around… and with more demands,” he wonders aloud before he takes his own swig of ouzo. “Hyenas.”
Rashid laughs at his comparison. “Aye, they’ll never stop at this rate.” He drifts tipsily to the window. “I do not know how ya look ’em all in the face, Khimi. Smug bastards.” He takes another swig. “Ever thought of using y’r words as swords? Ya might take the edge off that way.”
Khimi snorts. Spilled ouzo drips onto his bright green kaftan. “Trust that I hold as many ruthless brawls in my mind’s eye,” he moans pitiably. “You know it would not be the same, Rashid.”
“Well! Y’ve got to figure something out. Not just for y’rs, but for my sake,” Rashid drones back. He lets a drunk pause last between them. Yet, Khimi knows how he struggles to hold himself back. “Only a few weeks till our next visit to y’r favorite temple. Have ya made any decisions, know what ya plan to do?” he asks, turning to face him from his perch at the window.
Khimi puffs his cheeks, the closest he could near a pout for Rashid. He stretches his arms up in his desk chair. “I plan on hearing what he has to say.” He sets his flask on the table. “Is it so hard to believe I have other matters on my mind?” he deflects, turning away from Rashid.
“If I know ya at all, I know y’re a driven man. What do ya think he’ll tell ya?” Rashid asks innocently. “If y’r lad believes that what he said is true, then I doubt he’ll give up the fight for ya,” he says, placing his hand over his stomach. “I would do the same, in his position!”
Khimi huffs. “I see your point, Rashid. It’s only that I… I doubt I could reciprocate such strong feelings as he claims to have,” he admits, “and I absolutely do not know where my feelings stand.” He circles a finger around the cold lip of the steel flask.
Rashid chuckles. “All that moonin’ over him y’re doing and yet ya have nothin’ figured out?”
Khimi glares wanly at his drunken advisor. “Alright, Rashid. In truth, part of me wants nothing more than to indulge whatever wild fantasy he concocts for us. You and I both know there are… conflicting circumstances. Then there is that part of me that could simply wring his neck for existing!” He growls and finishes. “It is all extremely frustrating.”
Rashid crosses his arms. “I can understand y’r hesitation, Khimi. But do ya have not even an inklin’ of faith in the divine? Ya would only need as much as would take to believe he could be blessed with visions or to trust that he might hear the gods’ whispers,” he says, his voice trailing a moment. “Y’re still young, Khimi! Maybe it’s best ya hear him out. Ya know as well as I do that y’ve never been fond of romance, but against the odds, ya clearly feel something for him.”
Khimi pretends to gag. “Was it your goal to describe me like some blushing maiden?” he retorts with a laugh. He slips his empty flask back under his waist scarf. “Yes, I do feel something, yet I have no clear idea what to do with those feelings. Certainly, there’s a level of physical attraction, I suppose—”
“Bah! Deny, deny,” Rashid interrupts, too loud in the quiet room. He glances back out the window. “Tell me y’ve not spoken of him every day since y’r return?” he jabs.
Khimi gasps at the man’s betrayal. “I-I’ve barely brought him up since we left!” he protests weakly, his cheeks flushed. “As if you haven’t regaled me with every sordid tale under the sun and–”
Rashid’s expressions sours. “‘Twas three nights after we returned to Rhaz, I happened across ya. Sprawled on the floor! Smellin’ heavily of drink, lamentin’ y’r mistakes.” Rashid huffs, seeming to Khimi suddenly more sober. “I won’t have ya continue to tell me such lies, Khimi. This is important.”
Khimi tries to clear his stupor. He sighs and sits up straighter. “Say I agree this is important. What would you have me do?”
From the window frame, Rashid looks out the window and collects his thoughts. “Ya know that I was once a faithful servant of the gods. In my heart, I listened yet heard nary a word said by any cleric or acolyte. What I followed blindly were the words of the Saint of Balance! Khimi, every word she said, ya could feel the divine. Power in those words, it stirred somethin’ in me, when I was still a young man. I-I cannot lie when I tell ya that there was a mote of that in y’r aslan boy. He spoke to me and I knew he wern’t a liar.” He wets his throat with the last of his ouzo flask. “Lad, I know y’ve no love for the gods. But ’eed my words the same: there’s a reason when fate sets together two people like ya both. Deny y’re feelings to y’rself all ya like! Y’ll be better off acknowledgin’ and figurin’ from there. Y’re not fooling me nor y’rself. And should ya disregard everythin’ I’ve said, but if he makes ya happy… that is enough for me,” he finishes with a drunken sniff and approaches Khimi at the desk.
“But! I would be a poor advisor if I neglected to mention the complications! While I think with all my heart that ya should indulge y’r feelings, ye’ll have to watch the boy. He’s not got the same experience as ya and he’s not without fault. That dark-haired priestess said he caused troubles at the temple. But will ya let that keep ya from happiness? Ya damned fool.”
Khimi wipes his face with an open palm. He had avoided drunken lectures from Rashid for so long that he knew to expect this. “Finished?” He faces the man head-on with a grim smile.
“I am,” Rashid says, standing. “Suppose y’ll want y’r space to contemplate y’r sorrows now,” he offers.
Khimi shakes his head. He regrets his questions before he poses it. “No,” he begins, giving Rashid a sheepish, lopsided grin. “In fact, I have something I need of you.”
Rashid gives a slight bow. “How might I be of service to the young Lord?”
“If I will need to embrace my true feelings’ or some such, and need to do so in the very near future,” Khimi begins, smirking. “I worry I may embarrass myself in front of my one true love when we return to the temple. You may not be aware, Rashid, but I have no manner of experience or knowledge in the subject of pleasure—”
Rashid shouts with a start. He waves his hands in protest. “By the saints, Khimi!” he exclaims, his face twisted in confusion. “I can teach ya nothing of the sort! I’ve always thought of ya as a son! A-as y’r retainer beside, i-it’s not my place! Never mind that I’ve never been with a man…”
Stunned and drunk, Khimi breaks into laughter. “Oh gods!” he spits. “No, Rashid, yes, you’re like my father! Teach me? I hoped for… for a different manner of educating.” He can barely contain his laughter.
Rashid scoffs. “Ay, ya silly imp. Never mind that… just continue!”
Khimi eyes Rashid with tears in his eyes. “Oh, take a joke, Rashid. You may have to lighten up if I do, as well.” The young lord gestures towards the city center. “I should like to slip inside the Celestial Palace[1].I have an inkling the Royal Library may have some literature I intend to borrow.”
Rashid cocks his eyebrow in response, tired of Khimi’s newfound sense of humor. “My lord, they aren’t known to lend out books from the palace,” he counters skeptically.
“I know,” Khimi replies, maintaining his teasing grin. “Can I count on your assist?”
“The Celestial Palace! Of all the foolhardy–ya’d lose y’r hand if ya were caught, let alone what may happen to me!” The older man huffs like an old ox. “I think my burglary years are past me, lad. What of that devilkin woman? From y’r mercenary days. Ennui?”
Khimi’s eyes go wide. “Rashid, do you suggest her in truth? I have thought of Ennui since I took these responsibilities. She has always been a fine comrade-in-arms. Do I have the liberty to bring her into the fold?” He gives Rashid a subtle once-over. “She would be a great help in this, if my assessment of her ability is still accurate.”
It was the older man’s turn to feel put out. “Y’re free to do as you wish outside of y’r duties to the Cerulean Star. Myself, I’d rather avoid upsetting anyone from the palace while we live and work in Rhaz,” Rashid asserts wearily. “Should ya like it, however, I will stay nearby, in the event ya need me.”
“You should stay at the estate. I may need your assistance otherwise,” he counters, before taking a contemplative moment. “I regret I have not kept her abreast of my new responsibilities in the length of time since we were in the same company. She has always kept a particular distance from the rest… but we two have always been able to make nice. I should very much like to know how she has landed in these many months.”
Rashid eyes Khimi, regretting his suggestion already. “Ya ought be careful, placing so much fair in a woman o’ her repute. Only as dependable as a cutthroat can be,” he counters.
“Oh, please. ‘Cutpurse’ in this instance, anyway,” Khimi says. “If this works out, she won’t do any killing in the Celestial Palace under my employ.”
“As far as we’re aware!” Rashid groans with an aged grimace. “Rhaz has its underbelly, unlike Sidi. I understand there are hosts of criminals and murderers running amok. From what I hear, she’s been in the region a short time but has the city talking,” he adds, eyeing Khimi with concern. “The Ghost, they call ‘er.”
Khimi cannot help but chuckle at the former paladin. “With your permission, I’ll make contact with Ennui,” Khimi says, sitting back at the desk. “I will inform you of when our meeting will occur. Does that give any peace of mind?”
“As if she couldn’t figure where y’r estate is. Y’re still a Zeybek, Khimi,” mutters his advisor as he heads for the door.
Khimi scratches the scar over his cheek until he is alone in the office. “Oh, Ennui. I’m sorry it has been so long,” he remarks to himself.
Ennui
Khimi sits on the divan, arm resting on a low-rise table, in his preferred place for personal appointments: a tall room within the estate meant to display an intricate mural series on the ceiling. When he first arrived here to accept his new station, he brought seating and comfort into the gallery and converted it to a sitting room. He lies back and looks straight up to admire the painting above. Rendered in oil, it depicts valiant seafaring vessels crossing the waters along a stretch of the Emerald Coast. Objectively, he knows the Zeybek estate in Rhaz is stately and beautiful, but he often comes here to remind himself.
He sits back up with a sigh. He had sent word to Ennui to request a meeting that afternoon and she was yet to arrive. Alone with his thoughts, he feels himself begin to second-guess his rationale for stealing such a book in the first place. He sits in silent debate until he hears footsteps approach the open doorway.
“Lord Zeybek!” a soft-spoken woman calls to him, a pinkness in her cheeks. “Lord Zeybek,” she says once more, slightly louder. “Your guest has arrived.”
Khimi turns, looking at the young girl. “Please show her in. Actually, as well, inform Rashid of her arrival,” he adds.
She nods briskly and offers a small bow before departing from the room. Khimi takes a sip of mint tea from his colored glass and watches the doorway through the bottom of the glass. An ash-skinned woman with dark hair enters the room. He notes that she maintains her usual attire as when they had worked together: covered in leathers from head to toe. Her wide horns curve downwards, their ends sitting closely to her pointed ears. She sits abruptly across from Khimi, quickly crossing her legs to mirror his own. Khimi gauges her opaque expression. Even as fellow mercenaries-in-arms, the devilkin woman had always done her best to leave others unsettled; she was one of his oldest friends, and therefore he knew well how unpredictable she could be.
Ennui looks around the room appraisingly. “Long time, Khimi! How in the hells have you been?”
Khimi takes a sigh of relief, as a layer of worry vanishes at his old friend’s familiar tone. “I’ve been better… Perhaps you can imagine.”
She chuckles and shakes her head, with incredulous eyes. “Actually… no, I can’t say I can imagine. Do you not see all this luxury?” she replies in her frequent teasing tone. Khimi recalls how her harsh, nasal accent once jarred him.
Khimi scoffs. “You and I both know that money has never bought anyone happiness.”
Ennui snorts at his response. “Too true! Since you bring it up, you have need of my services?” she asks. “It would not be my first time receiving a contract from a member of the very venerable Zeybek family.” Her eyes harden briefly with suspicion. “And all those years, I thought you’d left behind the family business.”
Khimi nods, a confident smile crossing his lips. “You have known me a long time. I recall your work for Ziad, and I always thought that I owe you… for helping me back then, as always.” He crosses his arms at his friend across him. “With that said, we might discuss the business at hand? There is something that I need in the Celestial Palace, such that I would employ your talents. I would request your guarantee that this matter stays strictly between us.”
Ennui laughs and leans forward in the seat. “You think I got this good at my job by blabbing rich men’s affairs to everyone? Nah, you know me better than to think me an amateur,” she says with a waved hand and a dismissive nod. When she looks back at him, she wears a wicked smirk. “Must be serious. Of course, I do maintain a different pay grade for the rich and famous. That goes double for sworn secrecy.”
Khimi reflects her smile back. “I expected nothing less. Obviously, your rate is no issue here. However, I will need to ensure your silence,” he whispers, leaning forward toward the woman.
Her eyebrows raise in anticipation. “Boy, you ought to be careful! Tempting a woman like me with a good time,” Ennui retorts with a cackle. “But if that’s a threat, I don’t take kindly to threats. Boy,” she intones, clacking her boot against the tile floor aggressively. “I can take my services elsewhere, since it appears you’d prefer to play games.”
Khimi groans. “Ennui. Please. I know better than to threaten you and this is nothing so coarse,” he says hurriedly, then gestures to a sheaf of paper on the table beside them. “I mean to say that I’ve prepared a document: an oath-binding contract. I imagine you’re familiar.”
Ennui gasps harshly as she notices the contract for the first time. “O-oath binding? You’ve had this magicked?” she asks, incredulous. “Sure, I’ve seen one or two in my time, but they cost a fortune! A little extreme for you. You said ‘Celestial Palace’?” she asks, leaning back in the small wooden chair. “You’re sure we won’t be killing the Revya?”
Of course, Khimi knew he could trust Ennui. Certainly, he felt he could trust her more than anyone under the employ of his family, barring Rashid. But he hopes to show her that he lives in a different world, now. He must be the kind of man who takes any and every precaution available, hence the dramatics. “No, not an assassination. Perhaps we could call it an escort mission. I need to retrieve something from the Palace and I am asking that you help me do so. Five hundred Sidian gold pieces–the object is a book from the royal library.” He raises a wry eyebrow to his guest. “Too complicated for Ennui, the Ghost?”
Ennui rolls her tongue across her teeth, and murmurs back, “Maybe you don’t see it this way, but five hundred gold pieces is a lot for a book. Do I get any other context? Spell book? Gotta be enchanted, at least.”
Khimi tries to hide his amusement at the question. “I don’t think so. I find it important for personal reasons,” he says with a shrug. He slides the parchment across the table. “Should you accept, we can talk all about it, perhaps. If I feel so inclined.”
“Traipsing into the Celestial Palace with the heir apparent of the Zeybek family to commit petty burglary…” Ennui tilts her head from side to side. “I have heard of an amputated hand or two for such a serious crime as that. I have no idea what all this cloak-and-dagger business would merit for you.” Shooting him with a winning smile, she finishes, “Must be important, then. Honestly, I’ve got nothing better going on at the moment. Where do I sign?” She sidles up to the table and contract. “But is it a ledger? Proof of fraud? Something nefarious? I wasn’t aware they kept anything interesting in the royal library.”
“You’re welcome to continue guessing,” Khimi replies, “but are you aware of how this works?” He shifts alongside her and picks up his own quill.
“Sign on the dotted line,” she replies quickly, looking up while she dips the quill in the inkwell. “And I won’t be allowed to speak to anyone or write to anyone regarding our contracted matter…”
Khimi gives her a sideways nod. “In fact, you will be prevented entirely. The magick will not allow you to utter the words of our contract or about the deed,” he whispers, signing his name on the opposite side of the parchment.
Ennui pauses mid-script and looks up into Khimi’s eyes. “Right,” she whispers as she finishes a scrawling signature. “Are you happy now?”
Khimi shrugs and sighs. “I suppose. I admit I’ve been unlike myself lately.” He finishes his own jagged writing with a quick hand. As they both lift their quills off the page, a faint sound of crackling emanates under the fresh ink. Starting from an ember at the corner, the parchment shudders into flames, leaving nothing but fine ash on the wooden table.
Ennui eyes him suspiciously still. “So, when ought I expect an invitation to the Celestial Palace?” she asks. She jabs him in the air with the quill point as she enunciates, “I need you in top shape, if we are working together again.”
“Don’t let anyone say you aren’t sure of yourself, Ennui,” he mutters back to her.
Ennui chuckles darkly. “Would you know, it’s a front. Seeing as we’re sworn to silence,” she whispers and gives him a quick wink.
“The Celestial Palace is always open to members of the aristocracy, but there would be too many eyes on us during everyday business. Luckily,” Khimi offers, “three nights after tonight, Rhaz holds the Twilight Festival in the square nearby.” He moves to steeple together his hands while they talk conspiracy.
“Oh, how I have been waiting for you to ask me! It’s a date, baby boy,” replies Ennui.
He sighs. “If you want to call it that.” He takes a sip from his lukewarm cup. “There should be fewer individuals maintaining guard at the Celestial Palace, in general, that they can oversee the festival. And while I would just walk in myself or ask to borrow it, the content is…”
“Sensitive? Scandalous? What is this weird sense I’m getting from you…” Ennui says, before she gasps. “Wait! You couldn’t be angling for the efreeti’s kink collection! Known only to spurious rumors and hinted at by contemporary humorists!” She gawps at him, slowly devolving into laughter. “Say it isn’t true. You’re Khimi Zeybek. What happened to that sweet lad, pure as the driven Lorian snow?”
He frowns at her jests. “Is it your usual procedure to mock new employers?” he replies, but he keeps his eyes still on her, making sure not to give away any hint.
“Fine! Say less. I think the plan is solid and whatever it is you plan on taking, I look forward to seeing its contents once we succeed.” A wide smirk crosses her lips. “Some partner-in-crime you are. You merchants are all the same, you know, no sense of humor. Five hundred gold pieces could buy me a fine townhome, hire a retainer to wait on my every beck and call.”
Khimi laughs. “Sounds familiar. You deserve every bit of it,” he says, downing the last of his tea. “I know the value of a gold piece, but this is… I think it’s important to me,” he finishes, low in his throat.
Ennui eyes his cup like she had not noticed before now. “Drink? And you offer nothing to your guest?,” she pouts, tapping a long finger on the rim of the hand-blown glass.
Khimi smiles, laughing while he produces his small flask from his waist scarf. “All you had to do was ask,” he replies, pouring a bit of ouzo into the teacup and handing it to her. She accepts with an overdramatic nod, and they clink the vessels together. “A toast? To success and to rekindled friendship.”
“To success and to friendship, my liege,” she echoes. He feels her eyes on him until he sips from the flask, and she then follows his lead.
Khimi leans back to his seat on the divan, resting his arm over top of it. With a glance out the window, he can see the sun starting to set over the skyline. After a moment’s thought, he remembers a bit of forgotten business. He groans out loud at himself for leaving it to the end.
“Ennui, last thing. I must ask that you come to the occasion, uh, looking like someone who could be my associate,” he mentions, trying to appear offhanded.
“‘Associate’? Khimi, I think you’re old enough to call things as they are. I’ve played the noble prostitute many a time,” Ennui hisses with good humor. “Promise, I don’t mind a bit. If I hear anything in the taverns here, it’s that you’re quite an eligible bachelor these days!”
Khimi scoffs. “Try not to fall too hard, old friend,” he replies abruptly and rolls his eyes.
“Come now, I used to change your swaddling clothes,” she volleys back to him. “I can take care of myself, eh?” she asks, leaning forward. “If you know what I mean.”
Khimi grins cockily. “I’m not a little boy anymore,” he says, then he leans forward to match her pose.
Ennui snorts and then begins to laugh uncontrollably before settling down. “Always a pleasure, darling. But I must go! I have to start getting ready right away! Shall I meet you here or at the Celestial Palace, lover?” she asks coquettishly.
“We can meet at the estate. Please come washed, if nothing else,” he quips back.
She stands and leans down to him. Boldly, she takes his chin in hand and brings their faces near. Color fills Khimi’s cheeks while the devilkin peers into his eyes to growl, “Whatever you say, boss.”
He squints back at her and his lips curl to smile. “I enjoy our friendship very much,” he murmurs back, watching her expression carefully. “But this is exactly the kind of behavior I mean. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Then it will be so!” Ennui says, hopping back to stand up straight. Then, with a look of condescension down at him, she adds cryptically, “Bet you’d rather be in the thick of it, huh? Seeing you like this is hilarious. Let me know if you need to be kidnapped.” She gives a final mocking bow before she walks across the room. Khimi watches her take another appraising glance about the room as she walks to the arched entryway. “Lovely home, by the way, Lord Zeybek!” she calls back on her way out.
He hears the main doors close from in the entryway. Alone, he weighs their reunion in his mind. She is just the same as always. I hope I was not too cold. He returns to looking at the murals painted on the ceiling and his eyes land on the name of the vessel painted along its starboard side. Ziad told him stories as a child of his family’s fabled vessel, Apathy. The supposed merchant vessel was only such in name where, in reality, the Apathy was a warship. From how the elder Zeybek told it, it often lay stocked with dozens of trained soldiers and a mage skilled in naval warfare. His father now ran the Apathy as the lead of his personal fleet.As Khimi thinks on it, a rueful frown emerges. Fitting name for Ziad’s vessel.
The serving attendant returns with a small tray of honeyed bread and pulls Khimi from his thoughts. He smiles cordially and plucks at the platter’s contents. The young girl blushes and, with a gentle bow, exits the room. Khimi looks over the small bit of bread in his fingers, watching honey drip slowly from its base. Patiently, he waits for it to descend onto the plate before he swallows the morsel. Happily, he hums to himself once the sweetness of the Sidian honey fills his mouth. His thoughts are immediately filled with images of his childhood, walking through the fields of grapes with his mother, listening to Rashid’s recited speeches, and sitting at the large dinner table waiting for his father’s arrival. He leans back, closes his eyes, and thinks back on his youth.
The Twilight Festival
The night of the Twilight Festival, the stars and moons of Talmus shine down brightly onto the streets surrounding the Celestial Palace. Throughout the Palace District, one could hardly escape the music of tambourines and ouds, backed by the crackle of a massive brazier prepared especially for the event. Ennui and Khimi take in the raucous scene on their approach up to the crowded forum. In intimate circles, families and companions sit beside dozens of roaring bonfires, as children run through the rings without a care.
Before arriving, the two former mercenaries both agreed to put on a show; after dressing in costumes made for the function, they began the mission. There is never enough time for sampling native Rhazian delicacies: emerald whitefish stuffed with roasted prickly pear, honeyed cakes dusted with Dolmas cacao, spiced drinks and delicate meats. Drunken revelers mobbed the stalls. Passing through the crowds, Ennui artfully slips under her employer’s shoulder and winds herself into his chivalrous arm. She affects a ladylike sigh, before she whispers under her breath, “I think most men smile on dates with beautiful women.”
Khimi feels the assassin pinch his hip with her free hand; he coughs to cover his discomfort. “Right,” he whispers, “but you know I am not well use to this.”
“So perk up,” she says, cooing venomously, “you’re stiff in all the wrong ways, Zeybek.”
Ennui grabs his hand and giggles as she pulls Khimi along with her past the crowds. Getting into character, she realigns her shawl of garnet red silk over her plum-dyed shift dress and scans the crowd for guards. As they reach a clearing for dancing couples, a song finishes and the crowd politely claps. When the instrumentalists start into the following number, Ennui pulls Khimi against her without warning. He stares her down uncomfortably and she feigns ignorance, pressing her hand hard against his. They slide into the throng of dancers. Khimi recognizes the dance as a favorite of his mother, one he would often dance with her as a boy in Sidi; in Rhazian fashion, the instrumentation is more sweeping and the rhythm more brisk than it would be done in the west. He attempts to keep up with Ennui and the crowd to spin on time.
Khimi starts to notice eyes on him and his companion. He grimaces at the attention and whispers down, “I feel I am more of a singer than a dancer…”
Ennui titters. “Oh, my liege, do you offer to serenade me? How romantic,” she replies with a coy smile, “I’m sure everyone is watching us with envious eyes.” She parts from him with a flourish and then returns on beat. Under her breath, she adds, “Would you loosen up? I’m sure I’ve seen you dance a bar jig.”
He grumbles at her provocations. “I don’t know how Rhazians do it; this dance is much more tame in Sidi.”
Another girlish laugh from the devilkin. The expression reveals flashes of her fang-like teeth. “Sidians are boring people, who lead boring lives,” she says, grinning. With a flex of her arm, Ennui motions subtly for him to twirl her and he complies passively.
Khimi grits his teeth. “I asked politely that you not mock me when we are together,”
Ennui stifles a laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, come off it. How else will I manage to appear to the masses as though I’m having a good time?” she sighs. “Perhaps I would not need to press so hard if my lord could pull the stick out his ass.”
Khimi rolls his eyes. The song begins its crescendo and the pace ramps up. He attempts a reply through the motions. “I can–I relax plenty. Do you kn–You know what kind of–The pressure I’m under?”
“Well, pardon my assumption. I must not have known you as well as I thought,” Ennui mutters back as she finishes the dance’s final movement. He almost thinks he sees her wince before she starts in a dash towards the Celestial Palace.
Khimi follows behind her at a calmer pace. He ignores his urge to huff and puff. Is she punishing me? Surely she would not be upset at our lack of correspondence. Ennui’s comments about Sidi strike the man as particularly out-of-place. Though he has a complex relationship with his Sidian heritage, he feels a duty to defend the city that raised him, at least in conversation.
As he reaches the final flight of stairs past the forum, Khimi loses sight of Ennui. When he rounds a corner, he finds her leaned against a stony wall of the outer Palace. She picks at her nails. When he catches up to her, she hears his approach and shoots him an apologetic shrug. “Too much? My acting is rusty.” She walks forward to meet him and seductively trails her hand across his chest. “Hopefully the guards bought our farce!”
Khimi grabs her wandering hand and dusts it away. “You undersell yourself,” he says, before letting out a deep sigh, “though I still see a number of guards.”
“You want I should take them out?” She elbows his side before backing to the wall.
Khimi shakes his head. “Please do not joke like that. I am unsure if my standing alone will get us into the Celestial Palace unmolested, but we have no alternative. Still the lightest security I’ve seen here,” he says, with a quick scan of the far-off soldiers, and continues, “and I cannot say when we would have such an opportunity other than tonight.”
Khimi walks past Ennui, who had slunk down in the wall’s shadow, and sets a relaxed pace to the palace entrance. Overhead, the stars shimmer brightly and the Sisters highlight the brick path before them. Without warning, Ennui meets his pace and nestles into his side. She shimmies her shawl down her shoulders and reveals some décolletage, at which Khimi cannot resist rolling his eyes. The pair approaches the gate guards in tandem. Ennui begins to whisper nonsense into his shoulder, playing the fool yet again. The guards attending the gate wear celebratory kaftans and Khimi can tell they have been engaging in some private revelry on their watch. The men’s expressions are a mix of grimness and anxious energy. Nearing the top of the stairs, Khimi can feel the heat rolling off from immense braziers that illuminate the stately metal gates.
“Evening. What business do you have at the Celestial Palace?” one of the guards asks brusquely. He grips tight to the pommel of a sheathed scimitar.
Khimi feels fine to ignore the show of “Good evening to you, good sirs, and a pleasant Twilight Festival. I am Lord Khimi Zeybek, of the Cerulean Star Mercantile Company. I had hoped to show my companion about the Palace,” Khimi responds, attempting an equal machismo to theirs. He picks Ennui’s hand up in his.
The devilkin puts on her best impression of a blushing maid. In a sticky falsetto, she includes, “Oh, yes, please, Lord Zeybek said he would show me all the beauty of Rhaz!” She adds a round of batting her lashes at the guard.
The guards seem to choke on their own spit. “Ah! Of course, Lord Zeybek! Pardon–a thousand pardons, that we did not recognize you,” the other guard responds, throwing his hand away from his weapon. The prior guard had already begun to release the gate mechanism. “Please, go on ahead,” he finishes, stepping back to his post with a shaky bow.
Khimi pulls Ennui tighter to him as they walk through to the towering structure in the distance. “Come along, darling,” he says, looking at her from the corner of his eye. She moons back at him for their benefit, until they are far clear of the guard station.
The Celestial Palace is known as one of Talmus’ most magnificent constructions from its early history. Every year, it sustains an annual tourism of thousands of architecture aficionados and amateur historians, who venture to Rhaz to study. The architectural style employed by the city’s efreet ruler did not continue long after the palace’s completion. Golden domed cupolas sit atop seven towers that ring the central building, each which represent an astrological body and each reflecting celestial light from its polished surface. The crenelations along the elegant sandstone battlements were usually host to scores of guards; in a way, it unnerved Khimi to see a familiar sight so empty.
With no one around, Ennui snorts. “That’s it, then?” she asks. “Pitiful! All you did was wave around your fancy name and they were pissing themselves. I’ll be laughing about that all the way to the bank,” she adds, already stifling a chuckle. Her pointed tail slaps against the back of Khimi’s leg, whip-like. “This is so embarrassing for Revya. For me, too! Why am I even here?”
Khimi shrugs, unable to hide his smirk. They walk through the courtyard, admiring the beauty of the palace surrounding them. “You can think of it as ‘plausible deniability,’ then. My family provides goods and services to Revya. Can’t do anything untoward and damage the relationship.”
“So, your cover.” When they both notice a guard following them with his eyes from an outlying building, Ennui releases a shrill squeal and mimics burrowing into Khimi’s embrace. Khimi watches the man turn away from them. Even in the low lamplight, he can tell when Ennui purses her lips, before she whispers, “I imagined this would be more exciting.”
Khimi laughs. “You don’t appreciate a mission with low risk and high reward?” he jabs back. “We still have more to go, besides.” He gestures out ahead of them, where their path would continue through a manicured bower. “Once we pass the lesser topiary, the Royal Library is on the wall’s other side.”
“Then let’s hurry, and perhaps I can still enjoy my evening. Don’t keep me waiting, milord!” she croons before she takes off in the library’s direction. As he gives her a head start, he has to commend her commitment to the performance: she runs haltingly and swings her heavy dress with every step, drawing as much attention as possible. Her hard-bottomed shoes clack against the stonework. With a moment’s distance between them, Khimi jogs after her, calling with half-hearted appeals. He chases her into the open-air garden that surrounds the library’s exterior. Stone trellises and climbing vines surround the courtyard, but the skylight cutout allows for the moonslight to cascade through the foliage, creating an indoor jungle. The space smells of rich Dolman soil and fragrant blooms. Plump succulents sit solid in various clay pots in and around the bower and Khimi had always wondered if each pot might hold all different varieties. Something of the space makes him recall the Temple of Life, the foliage there, and Lumi. He wonders if the young acolyte will notice all this effort he undertook.
“Catch me, milord, catch me!” Ennui calls back to him and rouses him from thought. He speeds up to finish their chase. At the same moment, the guards manning the entrance to the Royal Library order them to halt. Ennui stops in front of them, panting, but demure. She giggles for added effect. The guards seem not to know what to make of the lavish devilkin woman before them.
Khimi arrives briefly after her. “Hello, gentlemen, m-my apologies,” he huffs. “I am Lord Khimi Zeybek.”
Ennui stomps her foot audibly. “Khimi, you said we could see the library!” she whines and pouts. The guards start to chuckle, then.
Khimi gives them an apologetic wince and approaches nearer. He takes Ennui under his arm and says, “Might I show the lady to the library? She was looking for a little privacy.” ‘The lady’ nuzzles him for extra effect. One of the guards clears his throat and both choose to look the other way.
Ennui waves goodbye as they enter the Royal Library at last. “I think it really a pity there isn’t enough time for me to cut you loose and work this place myself,” she mutters to her employer. Longingly, she runs an idle hand along the spines of a whole shelf of books as they walk alongside it. The arched entrance of the Royal Library opens into a tiered room with high ceilings: a larger floor below a more narrow upper level, filled with shelves of books, scrolls, and tablets. A collection of especially-large codices rest on and within various pedestals on display. The only light source is the candelabras filled with smoky wax, working hard but nevertheless leaving much of the room in total darkness.
Ennui cranes her neck, taking in the sights., “I’d pictured it more vibrant in the Celestial Palace. This is rather drab.” She reaches under her long shift and removes a satchel from inside the garment.
“Have you worn that through the entire night?” Khimi says, looking at the patchworked leather bag.
“Perhaps, if you had taken the opportunity to fondle me, you would be privy to all sorts of things,” she answers coyly.
Khimi squints at the insinuation. “I think myself a quick study,” he mutters back. “I have always wondered, though, at the way women can conceal so much in their dresses, bodices… wherever else they put things,” he says, blushing while his thoughts trail.
“I’m not sure of ‘wherever else they put things’, Lord Zeybek,” growls Ennui in retort, “but I assure you I could find a number of places on your person to hide some choice objects.”
“My apologies.”
The devilkin snorts, incredulous. “Show me the goods.”
“If I remember well, we should look in the side room just here.” Khimi collects a candle and holder from a nearby stand. He leads her deeper into the ground level collections until they reach a hidden alcove along the wall. Embedded in the wall is a stone placard, worn by the years.
“You speak the Old Tongue, don’t you? Does this say, ‘no entry’ something or other?” asks Ennui, with an energized lilt. He nods. “I knew it was one of the efreet’s.” She zips past the gauzy curtain and into the alcove. He follows behind. He sometimes forgets how comfortable a beastkin or a devilkin could be even within utter darkness. He sets his candleholder on the floor between them.
He clears his throat to alert Ennui to his presence. She had already begun grabbing at anything she thought seemed valuable, but turned to him reluctantly. “Look for a codex plated in copper. If you can exert some self-control and help me.”
She sucks her teeth at him. “The only exciting thing all night and I can’t get one moment to appreciate it myself,” she sighs, not even addressing Khimi.
“Codex. Copper-plated. And show me whenever you find something of that like,”” Khimi whispers back. He starts his own efforts to search, scanning book-bindings and inscriptions with a patient finger.
Moments shift into monotony: they lay stacks of metalled tomes on and around a small table within the alcove. At a certain point, Khimi decides to thumb through the small collection they amassed and double-check the content within them. Ennui begins to lose patience, veritably tossing her ancient finds off to Khimi. With a heavy sigh, she yanks at a codex in copper from the shelf: it had been pressed tight between two larger ones, but she caught sight of it in the shadows. She pauses and flips open her find from its rough leather tassel.
Khimi notices when she stops moving entirely; he looks up from another reject. Ennui stands stock-still as she thumbs through the thick tome. He rises from his chair to collect it from her. She shushes him and continues flipping through page after page. Khimi stands behind her and crosses his arms, awaiting her permission to take it.
When Ennui seems satisfied with her exploration, she shuts the leather binding with a heavy thud. Turning around to him, she holds out the codex between them both. “Yeah, that’s not the one. Copper-plated, sure, and definitely ancient. But the subject matter? The men partake in consummate acts with other men! There were anatomical sketches, and all manner of writing concerning male-on-male relations. Can you believe it, Khimi?” she asks, hamming it up. Khimi pinches the bridge of his nose and regrets every decision up to this moment.
“No, Ennui, that’s the one.”
She sighs. “I figured. You are really quite the killjoy, milord. I had hoped briefly for squirming and protestations.” She opens the satchel from around her shoulder and nestles the codex inside. “Anyone with half a thought between their eyes could see you had no interest in women.”
Khimi frowns. It was rare, the times he had seen his friend so candid. He hoped not to push it. He moves past her to hold open the cloth covering between sections. “I never intended to keep it a secret from anyone, especially when we were members of the same company. It was never relevant.”
“If we’re discussing the old days now,” begins Ennui while she walks out of the room, “I recall a time or two where you eyed up one of our brothers-in-arms. I always assumed it to be the drink.”
Khimi laughs at the comment, thinking back to their acquaintances in those years. As they reach the center of the Royal Library, near to the entrance, Ennui unexpectedly finds a chair and table for them both. He sits beside her in the dark. She lifts her legs onto the table–and he sees she removed her shoes before she reaches for the satchel. Ennui slides it across the wooden surface to him. “You ought to always verify the product yourself. Did they not teach you that in ‘little lordling’ school?”
He lifts the flap on the bag and removes the tome. In the clearer light of the seating area, its contents are very legible to Khimi: exactly what he needed. She had exaggerated less than he had placed, considering how very anatomical the material was. He flips through pages of sketches and diagrams with dense margin notes in a fine scrawl.
Would Lumi want this? Look like this? the thought appears in his head. He huffs, shuts the tome once more, and returns it in the satchel to his companion. “This should be the very thing I need. Thank you for your assistance, Ennui.”
“I think it best if we stay another moment or so. We can’t have the guards thinking the Zeybek heir is a quick shot with his lover,” she replies with an indifferent look to him.
Khimi nods his assent. “That sounds prudent, though the jest is in poor taste. My actions, my thoughts–these past few weeks, I have felt like they are from someone else entirely. It is very confusing and unfamiliar.”
His friend chuckles, slumped in her chair. She twirls a lock of dark hair with her bony finger. “Confused. Obviously, you were sure enough to sneak in here and snatch a manual to pleasure him in bed. Or, perhaps, you are looking to be pleasured? I’ve always thought your plump rear to be quite fetching.” She pretends to sneak a glance at his back and he laughs easily.
He stifles his laughter against his wrist. “I intend to be doing the pleasuring,” he answers softly, then shakes his head. “Perhaps I misspoke. I worry that I am not myself, or that all this is a flight of fancy,” Khimi whispers between them. “I hope you know I would not share this kind of talk with someone if I did not consider them… an old and close friend.” He covers her hand with his, resting on the table.
“It’s not my trustworthy face?” she asks, glancing up into Khimi’s eyes. “I wondered if you might have called on me because you desperately needed to get away from that old goat of an advisor.” Her tail whips behind her, feeling at ease.
Khimi eyes her suspiciously. “I could not last without Rashid’s guidance. Besides, should I spend so much of my time with a cutthroat instead?” he asks, smiling, before he releases his hand from Ennui’s.
She scoffs, but it lacks malice. “A cutthroat could never handle my caliber of work. ‘Assassin’, Lord Zeybek. You know more than most the truth of my reputation. I’d wager this mystery man of yours is better company than I could offer.”
Khimi thinks over her words a moment. His expression relaxing, he whispers, “If I am to be honest, Rashid cannot provide much perspective for my ‘mystery man’. I might feel more commiserate with you about… these matters. Yet perhaps it would be unprofessional to change our relationship dynamic away from that of an employer and his employee.”
Ennui squints at him as he finishes his speech. She huffs out, “I cannot believe how well you adopt this ‘well-to-do merchant’ demeanor; I find it disturbing, Khimi. And if I am to be honest, we were far past any flimsy professionalism when you had me sign an oath-binding contract so that we could discuss your crush.” Rising abruptly, she flips her chair and sits again, straddling it and leaning forward on the back. “Now then. Tell me your woes, boy.”
Khimi cannot help but be amused. “I doubt he would be what you expect,” he says coyly. Her stony expression pushes him on. “I am not sure what to say. He is an acolyte at the Temple of Life. When we met, he told me that we were supposed to find each other. W-when I say it out loud… it sounds more ridiculous than in my head,” he resigns.
“So, then it’s an acolyte. How do you feel about him?”
Khimi adjusts the sleeves of his evening kaftan. “It is difficult to explain fully. I do have a manner of attraction to him. One could say he left a lasting impression in the short time we spent together,” he mutters, and leans against the table. “I sent him a letter, against my better judgment.”
“Is that all?” she asks, unamused. “‘A lasting impression’ and ‘a letter’ are very mild, Khimi. I think you could try expressing your feelings more resolutely,” she instructs. “Even before but especially now, you put on that patrician routine and you ignore your emotions. It’s emasculating. Can’t get out of your own damned head.”
Khimi growls, mostly at himself, “As I said, it lacks a simple explanation. He has this strangeness about him I find attractive; his words roll off his tongue with no effort at all; he knows who he is and what he wants; and I have never met someone so forceful as him in my life.” He pauses, trying to compose himself. “Ennui, he is terribly beautiful–he has these piercing eyes unlike anything I’ve ever seen and they stare back at me in my mind.”
Ennui chuckles, “Good! Seems you know words. Maybe if you weren’t such a pissant, you could attempt to pursue something that you know you want truly.”
Khimi has to look away from her in front of him. “You make it sound very easy, when I know you have your own struggles,” he mumbles, watching the drip of a melting candle. “I cannot deny I feel a pull towards him, but it’s unclear to me if all this is affection or lustfulness.”
“You will just have to find out then, won’t you? Welcome to reality,” Ennui whispers back brightly. She stands up from her chair and shoves both her hands into her coiffed dark hair, flailing it around until unrecognizable.
In a daze, Khimi watches her absentmindedly. “I like this look on you. It matches your personality,” he remarks innocently.
“You sweep me off my feet, Khimi, I really mean it,” Ennui mocks back. Against her nails, she tears a gash into her thick shift. “Leave it to a man to let a woman do all the work. I am emphasizing our alibi. Need the guards to get the right assumption.”
A thin smile forms on Khimi’s lips. “You do this often, then.”
“They will see a pair of lovers wander from the library, post-coitus. I take the attention away from you. We leave this place a mess and they will do the rest for us. ” Ennui says. Turning to Khimi over her shoulder, she looks at him through dark eyelashes. “But if my lord should like to experiment, I would not be opposed,” she adds, along with an awkward moue.
“This is how you respond after my heartfelt declaration?” he asks, chuckling. “I thought you would be mostly pleased.”
Ennui’s nose wrinkles even further. “I spent the Twilight Festival with a boy who can hardly tie his breeches and he mooned over another man the whole time. Put simply, you are not my type.” She gives herself one final costume adjustment. “But the gold is good,” she starts, before she walks around to his chair and sets her open palm on his pectoral. She finishes, “And I did eventually see you squirm. Even if I myself prefer a partner with more ample bosom, still satisfying!”
Khimi smiles and stands, gently pressing her back from him. “Back to our performance?”
Ennui sighs. “If we delay any longer, we might get caught up in the change of guard. I would prefer to leave prior to that. Can’t have my hard work go down the drain,” she replies, walking past Khimi without a look.
Ennui starts to moan loudly and drunkenly. She stumbles through the arched doorway of the library and falls to her knees. She swings her daintily-gestured arm up to the guard; he hoists her up, still limp. Khimi follows behind, wondering how to follow along with her theatrics. She certainly gives a show worth five hundred gold pieces. When he catches up to her out from the entryway, she skips away from him and back through the bower. With a wave back to the guards, he follows Ennui down through the grounds of the Celestial Palace. He jogs behind, until she falls a second time with no guards to trick. Eyeing the scene in confusion, he rushes to her side; when he lifts her from the ground, her head lolls to the side and her eyes roll back in their sockets. Khimi holds her steady in his arms as he passes the way they came, finally reaching the Twilight Festival once more. The evening’s festivities appear to be in their crescendo: a full company of dancers disperses into the crowd, backed by a bright melody; they dance around the bonfires and past the crowd. The full-roaring festival brazier seems to send its embers to meet the twinkling stars in the sky. Khimi slows his pace to watch the proceedings, and Ennui gestures to let her down.
The assassin takes his hand and pulls them both towards an area of Rhaz that was somehow unfamiliar to him. He had lived in Rhaz only some months now, but the Cerulean Star had dealings all through the city. Eventually, she passes a block of dilapidated shacks and settles, slowing her breath.
“End of the line, Lord Zeybek,” she says with a dismissive shrug.
“I am unfamiliar with this district… I had thought you might accompany me back to the estate.” Khimi attempts to gauge her expression, but it proves difficult in the darkened streets. “Otherwise, I can take the book now,” he adds, then extends an open hand.
She harrumphs, and then reaches for her bag. Producing the book she snickers. “Quite a journey for this little gem. How do you want we should do this?” she asks, dangling it in front of her between two pinched fingers.
Khimi winces, reaching for it, and she pulls it away. “You want your five hundred gold pieces at this exact moment?” he asks.
“If you brought five hundred Sidian gold pieces with you on hand,” she starts, refusing to look at him. “You are a bigger fool than I remembered.”
“Unfortunately, I brought only enough coin for the evening. I could produce a promissory note; you would then make the exchange at my estate whenever you chose and Rashid would honor the amount,” Khimi offers flatly.
“No coin in hand, no book in hand. Tough luck.”
Khimi wipes at his face, feeling put out. “Then you should come to the estate and I will see you paid tonight–as I said in the first place. Also,” Khimi says, flashing his teeth. He stares at the book in Ennui’s hand. “Can you put that away?”
Ennui puts the book back into the bag. “Fine,” she says, anger flashing across her face as they begin their trek back to the Zeybek Estate. “It’s been a while since we got to properly catch up,” she mutters quietly. “I expect drinks… many drinks.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
[1] Celestial Palace: The palace where of the descendants of the efreet, Revya reside. It hosts thousands of literary articles and is home to many scholarly and noble figures in Rhaz.