This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you like it! If you have something to say about it that isn't flaming me then email me at: jae.monroe@yahoo.com
Acknowledgment: Thanks so much to Richard for all his editing.
The Gift of Ys
By
Jae Monroe
Chapter 5
"Dreaming of me?" A voice broke through Isidore's sleep and his eyes flickered open at the sound of it. He rolled over, wincing as he pressed on to his bruised buttocks, quickly getting on to his side to regard the possessor of that voice.
"Ah you are dreaming of me, it would seem." Isidore's eyes widened considerably to see Kylar watching him, leaning against a closed chest that doubled as a table and, as it would seem, chair.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, painfully aware that he remained naked from the previous night, and in the midst of the Svarya's huge bed, so Kylar must be thinking that they had...his cheeks flamed with embarrassment.
"If I am in your dreams, little one, then 'tis not my fault I am here, 'tis yours," Kylar replied with his beguiling grin.
"Oh foolish man, I am patently aware that I am awake," Isidore told him irritably.
"You are grumpy in the morning," Kylar noted. "Was it I beside whom you awoke in the morning, you would not be so, I guarantee it."
"Can the Svarya trust you so little?" Isidore's eyes widened in shock. "To make such advances toward me while I am in his own bed."
Kylar looked thoroughly hurt. "I only jest, little one," he said, all the humour gone out of his voice, to be replaced with quiet solemnity.
Isidore felt terrible. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I...I am new to all of this; I do not know what is appropriate behaviour, what is jest and what is not. I'm sorry."
Kylar recovered some of his smile back. "Aye, I heard that you have yet to learn who to trust."
"Did...how do you know?" Isidore asked.
"Well, of course your punishment reverberated around the castle." It was an exaggeration, but not a huge one. "And then there was the fact that you listened to the words of that little viper Liwah who, by the way, has been sent away for his efforts."
Isidore groaned; the humiliation of the first news outweighing any jubilation that he was not to be subjected to further contact with the duplicitous boy who had caused it.
"Does the whole castle know I was punished?" Isidore asked, his expression revealing his mortification.
"Aye," Kylar answered, "you have a pair of lungs on you."
Isidore flopped on to his back and then winced as his buttocks reminded him that he was not ready to do that just yet. He rolled back to his side, gritting his teeth against the discomfort.
"And might I ask once more what you do in here this early in the morning?" This was said very respectfully for he still felt terrible about being so rude to the only man in this gods-forgotten place who had showed him kindness thus far.
"It would seem you are now to have constant supervision," Kylar replied, "and I of course graciously put my hand up for the job, at least for today."
"But have you not other duties which you must be about?" Isidore asked politely.
"Well, to tell you the truth, your esteemed master and our beloved Svarya has demanded it be either of his two most trusted men, which means 'twill be either myself or Jalen who attend you daily from now on," Kylar informed him.
"Jalen, he is the one who found me, is that right?" Isidore remembered Kerim calling the Daja who held him Jalen before said Daja had tossed him to his possessor.
"Aye, and did you find him congenial as always?" Kylar asked with a grin.
"He did seem to have little time for me," Isidore answered with a nod.
"Aye that one; the mad fool seems to have a fierce dislike of Darani," Kylar told him honestly. "I have known him almost as long as I have known Kerim-ya and it seems he has only got worse. I'm afraid even you, with all your ample charm, will find him singly mistrustful of you."
"Ample charm?" Isidore snorted derisively. "You would be the only one who thinks so; our esteemed Svarya believes I am a starved and stunted runt."
Kylar's eyes widened. "Did he say thus?"
"His very words," Isidore said with a giggle.
"Ah, the fool; why does he do this?" Kylar leaned back, looking at the ceiling as though Lodur might lift it up and whisper to him the answer. "I swear 'tis because they dislike their pricks, the both of them; for Jalen is as bad. 'Tis that they harbour a fierce hatred of their pricks and wish to bestow upon them no pleasure whatsoever."
Isidore burst out laughing. "I think 'tis because they dislike Darani and their pricks suffer as a consequence."
"But who would dislike Darani?" Kylar looked at him feigning incredulity. "No, it must be that they hate their pricks first and then, to punish them, will scare off all the Darani with their nastiness. Because truly, gift of Ys, you are no displeasing runt."
"I didn't think I was," Isidore replied, though during the night and with his exhaustion, he had thought that very thing. In the light of day, however, after a long sleep, albeit broken off and on by his sore behind, he could remember all those times when he had been advanced upon by Sheq-Kis-Ran Dajani. "But obviously I am not the kind of Dara that pleases him; which is all for the better for though I am no runt, I am not large and he is overlarge. Therefore the less chance of my being subjected to his lusts, the less chance of my meeting my death by them."
Kylar frowned. "He will not kill you in his bed; do not think he has so little control of himself for that to be a possibility."
"Oh I don't; but it is no matter, for he did tell me that he likes his Darani more sturdy than I and, it appears, more experienced. I was celibate before I came here, which did not please him," Isidore replied easily.
Kylar's mouth dropped. "You were what, now?" he asked.
"I had followed the teachings of Ys, to bestow love purely and be free of the snares of Osys," Isidore replied. "So I have had no man and, after he had learned this, I was then given my punishment and put to bed, without any challenge to my vow of celibacy."
Kylar sat back for a moment, thinking this over. There was not a man who would find such a beautiful virgin Dara-Svaraya unenticing, so he wondered why Kerim had refused himself the boy. Perhaps he really did hate his prick, Kylar thought sardonically, to deny it so lovely a prize. But then another thought occurred to him as he looked upon the boy swamped by the bed, and he realized the more likely reason for his friend's hesitance.
"Come; get yourself dressed and I shall show you the city of Sherim-Ra today," Kylar said brightly, changing the subject. "And perhaps we can entice our friend the envoy into joining us? Then we could all have the benefit of his engaging social commentary."
Isidore rolled back, groaning and not just with the pain in his behind. "No!" he moaned, burying himself beneath the sheets. "I had to endure that man eight weeks on the road with only two days' reprieve; if I never see him again it shall be too soon."
"Aye; well you did have to bring him back from Sheq-Kis-Ra," Kylar reminded him.
"He left of his own accord!" Isidore said, peaking above the sheets. "Though he may have wondered at his welcome after the Sheq-Kis-Ran Svarya's runt of a Dara-son, who is only passing fair, was sent to his new master."
Since the discussion was growing too political in nature, Kylar veered it away to a topic that was safer. "If it will make you feel better, little one, my friend does insult those he is particularly fond of. I myself have been called all manner of vile names, from Mol-Hotep's idiot son to a Lodur-cursed dog, to a pile of steaming horseshit that is full of the same."
Isidore collapsed in laughter. "But are they not all very accurate descriptions?" he managed to get out between giggles.
Kylar made to launch himself from the chest against which he was leaning. "And you really are a little runt," he growled.
"Aye, but he had only met me when he started with the insults; for you he has the benefit of years of friendship to diminish the sting of any such barbs," Isidore replied.
"Perhaps, but it is my knowledge that the more deeply affected he is, the graver the insult; with you he started insulting you the moment he saw you. Perhaps that says something about the effect you had upon him," Kylar suggested.
"Aye; and perhaps you are full of horseshit," Isidore replied, still giggling, not wanting to give account to that summary, for it was unnerving enough to think that Kerim found him unattractive; he would be utterly thrown was he to find out that the opposite was true.
"Perhaps I am," Kylar conceded. "Now have you finished being a slugabed? Would it trouble you too much to drag yourself to a vertical position?"
Isidore shook his head. "But you must leave first."
"Why?" Kylar asked, looking about him for the reason.
"Because I am naked," Isidore gritted out, his cheeks tinting rose.
"Ah, the Sheq-Kis-Ran modesty; I keep forgetting. Poor Sheq-Kis-Ranians." He shook his head, commiserating with those Dajani who were denied the sight of their Darani by the Sheq-Kis-Ran constructs as he walked out of the chamber to stand in the parlour while Isidore made himself ready for the morning.
"Will you always wear so much smothering black?" Kylar asked him once he had washed and dressed himself and it was safe for him to return to the chamber.
"Smothering?" Isidore looked down at himself. He was wearing his usual attire; a pair of fitted black trousers and a velvet camic; the latter not devoid of embellishment, being trimmed with an embroidered border at the cuffs and collar in a thin silver thread. Then he remembered the gaudy magenta scarf of Liwah and grimaced. "I'm afraid I could never be comfortable wearing what Sherim-Ran Darani wear," he said honestly.
"Why is that, little one?" He pretended to lift the hem of Isidore's camic which sat a few inches below the waist-band of his trousers and Isidore jumped out of the way in a hurry. "Oh come now, are you covered in scales under all those stifling clothes?" Kylar joked.
"No, I have no scales, but I will never be comfortable showing as much skin as do the Darani in this castle," Isidore replied. "Tell me is it the custom to wear so little only in the castle, or does the whole of Sherim-Ra dress so scantily?"
"We shall find out, little one, for I will take you sight-seeing around Sherim-Ra today," Kylar told him with a grin.
"Sight-seeing?" Isidore looked up at him with a bright smile. "That is very kind of you."
He had been looking forward to seeing some new sights. At least that had been part of his plan upon embarking on this mission for Sheq-Kis-Ra, but that was when he had not yet met the Svarya or realized that he might have enough challenges within the castle walls, without needing to go outside them for stimulation.
"Well, whilst I'd like to take the credit and thus be the recipient of all your smiles of gratitude, 'tis actually at the behest of your master that we do this, for he wishes you to see your new home so that you might grow used to it all the better," Kylar replied.
Isidore smiled gratefully nonetheless. "You shall always have my gratitude," he told Kylar. "For you have been the one person who has been unequivocally kind to me since I've got here." He took Kylar's large hand between his own and kissed it, much as he would do with his brother.
Kylar flushed and withdrew his hand feeling a little uncomfortable. "I hope you will not misconstrue my kindness as having any deeper motive than..."
Isidore grinned, stepping back from him to regard his reddened cheeks. "Hah, you are blushing!" He stated the obvious. "Think you that I have become ensnared by you, handsome Daja?" he asked playfully.
Kylar looked at him very seriously. "You must remember to whom you have been given," he warned Isidore. "I would not; I mean, in spite of how you look, I would never..."
Isidore burst out laughing. "Ah, do not worry handsome Daja. Even were you so unscrupulous as that, you would find no willing participant in such an affair in me for you remind me too much of my brother."
Kylar grinned suddenly, forgetting their topic for a moment. "I remind you of Barik-aya?" He was flattered for Barik da Jornn was an impressive warrior, if a little foolhardy on his last raid. It was he who had injured the Svar Garren dal Illin upon accosting the Svar's party and this was no warrior to be trifled with. Indeed, Barik had walked away without so much as a graze from their skirmish and had only surrendered his sword when the life of one of his fellow warriors had been threatened so as to induce him to do so. Kylar knew that Kerim would very much like to test his mettle against Barik, but had decided to delay it so that he might meet the Sheq-Kis-Ran Svaraya on more level territory and not when the man was still being held in his own custody. "This pleases me, little one, but I do wonder why you think it will comfort me."
Isidore frowned as he watched Kylar from his position on his belly on the parlour couch; he had tried sitting on his buttocks and it was still too uncomfortable, though when the servant brought in his breakfast he would endure any discomfort so that he wouldn't be seen to be suffering from his previous evening's chastisement. "Why do you think it would not comfort you? Since I see you as my brother you are utterly safe from my advances."
"Ah, in Sheq-Kis-Ra, relations between siblings are frowned upon, is that right?" Kylar remembered back to what he had heard mentioned in passing when he had visited Sheq-Kis-Ra the one time.
"You mean they are not here?" Isidore was shocked; he couldn't remember that from his readings on Sherim-Ra.
"No," Kylar answered easily. "Darani are not considered siblings in the same sense as Dajani."
"Then how are they considered?" Isidore asked.
"They go into the house of their Daja father and brothers, but they must serve them, once they are old enough, so each house might have a Daran servant or two," Kylar replied.
Isidore gasped. "And this is always so? They are always servants?"
"It is the way of things," Kylar replied matter-of-factly.
"The way of things?" As if that made it right! "And is it true that Darani have no choice over whom they must serve in bed?" he asked, his voice subdued.
"Aye they do, Darani may say yes or no," Kylar replied.
"And if they refuse and are still...desired?" Isidore asked.
Kylar gave him a sympathetic look. "Then I guess it becomes a matter of who wants it more."
"You mean it becomes a test of strength?" Isidore asked, looking disgusted.
Kylar shrugged. "This does not mean every Dara is subjected to rape. If I was refused I would respect it; I think a significant amount of Dajani have enough respect for Darani that they would be the same."
Isidore gave him a look and Kylar looked away; so it was fortunate at that time that the door to the parlour opened and a servant came in with breakfast on a platter. Isidore's dignity was entirely forgotten in his consideration of the indignities visited on those of his kind so that he barely noticed the servant laying down the breakfast tray, much less cared enough to rise to a sitting position as he had planned on doing.
"It is the way of things." It was all Kylar could say after the servant had left, knowing that Isidore did not accept that line of reasoning one bit; but there was no other recourse on the subject. It was simply the way things were in Sherim-Ra and he was no priest to argue the merits of their order.
"And so if a Dara serves in the household of his father and brothers as their slave; if they want him as bed-slave he is that too?" Isidore asked.
Knowing how Sheq-Kis-Ranians viewed relations between siblings, Kylar felt a little uncomfortable at the question, fully aware that its answer would meet with censure. "Eat your breakfast," he said, trying to avoid the subject.
"Answer my question," Isidore replied, his midnight-blue eyes meeting the green ones of the Daja unflinchingly.
Kylar ran a flustered hand through his hair. "Aye, if it is so desired, then he will perform that role," he replied, not saying that in fact it was often the only reason a Dara would be accepted into the house of his Dajan father, so that he might prevent the man from having to purchase a Diya or use a Purdiyani house.
"And if his paper-thin right of refusal is ignored, then his own father and brothers will rape him?" Isidore asked, his voice becoming breathy with the realization.
Kylar looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Eat your breakfast," he instructed again.
Isidore pushed the food away from him, getting to his feet. "I have lost my appetite," he said and then turned, marching away from the couch toward the small square of window, looking out it and over the very city wherein these grave injustices took place.
Kylar walked to where he was standing, swinging him around to tell him off for refusing to do as he was told, but then he saw the midnight-blue eyes were glistening with tears. "What ails you so?" Kylar asked him, examining the boy's averted face as though that would tell him the source of his upset.
Isidore felt the tears sliding down his cheeks, but he was incapable of even raising his hand to wipe them away as he watched the blurry view of the town through the window, feeling as though every activity he saw taking place as the town's-people went about their out of doors business was tainted with what happened inside of them.
"It...I just can't believe it..." He turned from the window, unable to watch any more, and walked to the couch. Sitting on his bruised behind he bore the pain as penance; as though he might suffer it to atone for those who suffered so much more at the hands of their own families. He couldn't help thinking about his own home, his own family; what if they had been transposed into Sherim-Ra? Would his father and brother have just used him like that, without a care for how he felt? Would the two men who made him feel so protected in his life have just reverted to abusive monsters, if their societal constructs approve of such?
"Do not worry yourself over it, little one," Kylar urged, concern in his green eyes.
Isidore turned such an expression on him that Kylar actually flinched at it. "But how must it be for them? How must it be to live each day with the fear that you will have to pander to the desires of your own family?" He pressed his fingertips to his mouth, his brow creased, though no more tears fell. "How must it feel for them to be afraid of their own fathers, of their own brothers; that these might force themselves on them without a care for how it makes them feel? How must it be to not feel safe going to sleep at night?"
"I don't know that it happens like that," Kylar said gently. "I think often the relationship is accepted and not feared."
"Did...do you have a Dara for brother?" Isidore asked and Kylar shook his head.
He decided it would not be a good idea to tell the boy that many Darani were simply not accepted by their fathers; so he never knew if he did, in fact, have a Daran sibling that his father had refused. Such were left to be raised by rearing-centres which took on those charges that had no fathers. Ostensibly these could be either Dajan or Daran; but all Dajani who had lost fathers in battle or the like were quickly adopted into other houses, so it was only the unwanted Darani who were relegated to the rearing-centres.
"Do not worry yourself over it, 'tis a lower class problem," Kylar tried to console him.
"Is the Svarya sovereign of only the upper classes then?" Isidore demanded.
"No," Kylar replied, subdued.
He had never really thought about the way of their society; it had been so since before he was born. The Daran rights were altered by Svarya Vemiyar da Jaal, Kerim's grandfather, so long ago that none had known enough about before to question the ways now. But seeing the distress it caused in this Dara who had not grown up taking such ways of life for granted, he suddenly felt answerable for his own complacency. "I suppose you are not so keen to see the city now?"
"No, I still wish to, but I shall view it with somewhat of a more informed eye," Isidore replied.
"I will give you this warning, little one; with your new master, do not be so disparaging of Sherim-Ra as you are with me; I do not get insulted, for I choose not to take such things seriously. But he is Svarya of all about us in Sherim-Ra; he will likely take exception to your frequent expressions of dismay toward our home," Kylar told him.
"I thank you for your warning," Isidore replied, getting to his feet since his buttocks started feeling too uncomfortable from sitting on them for more than ten minutes.
"You must eat something before we go," Kylar told him, sounding concerned.
"Truly, I am not hungry," Isidore said, looking down at the tray and feeling his stomach rebel at the thought of what it contained.
"It is not good that you don't eat, little one, you are too...little," Kylar insisted.
"The way I am has nothing to do with food," Isidore huffed. "You all think I've been starved, but I assure you I ate very well back home."
He caught himself at those last words and looked to Kylar who regarded him knowingly.
"Do you think you will start to view this as your home?" he asked Isidore.
Isidore hesitated. "I can't deny that there is a large part of me that wishes he would send me back, especially as I do not suit his particular tastes." Kylar hid his skepticism at this. "And I do love Sheq-Kis-Ra and all I have left behind in it." Including most of my personal rights, Isidore thought miserably.
"I see," Kylar said, getting to his feet. "Well Sherim-Ra is very pretty, I think, and the lands are well-run. If you might find it a little quaint and dated, so be it, but I think it has much to commend it."
His words reminded Isidore of what he had thought about Sherim-Ra not so long ago: that its datedness in all things not pertaining to war might actually be one of its commending features, for those of its libraries still operating and its priesthoods would be founts of information from its antiquated books.
"Do you know Sherim-Ra used to lead the brother cities in all things scholastic?" Isidore told Kylar as they made their way out of the Svarya's chambers and through the rest of the castle, to get to where their mount was awaiting them and had been so for some time. "I imagine that your libraries might contain much to commend your home."
"Ah, yes, a scholar and a celibate." Kylar gave that description with a look of amusement. "Do you know you picked the wrong packaging to be both those things, Darima?"
Isidore flushed; he had always despaired of his features which bespoke far more of sultry seduction than of sobriety and studiousness. "I cannot help my packaging," he said, then gasped as Kylar lifted him about the waist and placed him atop the horse then effortlessly swung himself atop the tall animal to land behind Isidore.
"We ride together?" Isidore asked, feeling a little strange to have the Daja so close to him; feeling the muscles of his thighs through the fitted buck-skin trousers pressing against his own.
"Aye," Kylar replied. "Now stop questioning everything we do in Sherim-Ra and just let me have the pleasure of feeling you all pressed up against me, little one."
"Shall I squirm a little? You did say that felt especially delightful." Isidore looked up at the man behind him with a wicked smile.
Kylar grinned down at him. "You'd better not," he warned, and then they set off, the gates being opened for them as they left the stables and went directly on the road that led to the centre of the city.
"You will have to point out all the important sights as we pass them," Isidore murmured, leaning back against the hard chest and watching the roadside in relaxation.
Kylar pointed ahead of them. "Aye, well to your right you'll see a fine shed."
Isidore giggled. "Senseless man. I said the important sights."
"So you did," Kylar conceded. "And I am senseless am I?"
"Utterly; I did say that to you when I first met you, you might remember," Isidore replied.
"You said you couldn't get a scrap of sense out of me; but that does not mean I am senseless. In fact it might mean that you are," Kylar replied.
"Indeed. I must be devoid of sense, since I keep trying to get it out of you," Isidore teased.
"'Tis well you have a pretty face then," Kylar replied blandly and Isidore elbowed him.
Kylar leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Lower, and don't use your elbow."
Isidore turned to him in shock. "I can imagine no Dara is safe around you."
"Except you, little one, runtish, stunted and half-starved scrap of a Dara that you are," Kylar replied and was rewarded with another elbow in his guts. "I do wonder if a mosquito is biting me, I keep feeling this slight niggle in my side," the Daja teased him about the lack of strength in his blows.
"I do wonder that the same mosquito isn't biting my back, I feel such a small prick every now and then," Isidore replied and Kylar burst out laughing in response, not in the least bit perturbed by the insult since he knew exactly how prodigiously he was endowed.
"For a dusty old celibate you have the dirtiest mind," Kylar told him once he had recovered from his laughter. "And since I don't find you in the least bit enticing, there really must be a mosquito bothering you." He wrapped the reins about the pommel and Isidore wondered for about a second what he did that for, then he shrieked as Kylar lifted up the back of his camic, exposing the soft smooth skin beneath it.
"What are you doing?" Isidore cried as he twisted around, trying to pull down his camic and avoid the large hands which were shucking it up further.
"Looking for the mosquito," Kylar answered, sounding preoccupied as he continued to hike up the thick velvet. "And you're right, there are no scales that I can see, although I really need to see a little..."
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Isidore finally yelled and Kylar let go, letting him yank down his camic.
"You Sheq-Kis-Ranians are really protective of your modesty," Kylar commented once Isidore had adjusted his camic so that it recommenced covering him from his neck to below the waistband of his trousers.
"If you mean we do not go flitting around dressed like Purdiyani, then yes, we do care about our modesty," he replied huffily, "but I admit I am more protective than most."
"I suppose, with your vow of celibacy and all," Kylar commented, nodding sagely.
"I never took a vow," Isidore replied, straightening his camic at the front unnecessarily. "I just made up my mind to follow the precepts of Ys and celibacy seemed to be a part of it. But 'twas also that I didn't want to be a slave to pleasure like my friend was and I knew I didn't need a Daja to make my life worthwhile."
"Some very good reasons, little one," Kylar replied. "And this friend who was a slave to pleasure?"
"My friend Eiren; he is a Svar's son and came to foster with me so that I might have a Daran companion growing up. He is my best friend but very different from me; he would not mind a bit dressing like they do in the castle."
"Mmm, I'd like to meet this friend of yours," Kylar said, his interest piqued.
"I'm sure he would love to meet you," Isidore replied with rolled eyes.
"You should send a missive and invite him to stay here awhile," Kylar said.
"Oh I'm sure," Isidore replied. "Truth be told, I was going to ask my new master if I might have him come and stay with me as companion and suchlike. Eiren and I spoke of it before I left to come here, but...well last night I wasn't really in any position to ask for anything, and the time before in the receiving room, I despaired of him ever letting me have anything that was important to me."
"I'm sure in this he will acquiesce; maybe not now but after a few months," Kylar assured him.
"Aye, maybe in a few months I will ask him if Eiren may visit," Isidore replied thoughtfully.
"You no longer want him to stay permanently?" Kylar asked him, curiously and Isidore hesitated a moment. Before he could respond, Kylar answered for him. "Ah, you think he will chafe at the Sherim-Ran way of life as you do."
"Probably not as much as I do, for Eiren is more playful than I; he might find the rules regarding what is appropriate matter for thought not so cumbersome as I because he tries to think of nothing except fucking...but..." Isidore knew what he said would likely go back to Kerim, so he wondered how much he should say if he did want Eiren to visit. "But I think he might not take all the rules too seriously and then I would hate to think of him being punished or some such."
"Do not Darani get punished in Sheq-Kis-Ra?" Kylar asked.
Isidore frowned; he didn't rightly know the answer to that. He supposed Diyani got punished if they disobeyed rules in the house to which they had made themselves bond-slaves, and of course all men were punished for breaking the laws pertaining to the land, Daja and Dara alike.
"I think those Darani who are Diyani or still children get punished, but otherwise no," Isidore replied.
"What if they do as you did last night and disobeyed a direct order from the Svarya?" Kylar asked, and Isidore flushed to be reminded of his own completely uncharacteristic bad behaviour.
"I never disobeyed my father so I do not know," Isidore replied. "I would ask once if I wanted it, a second time if it was really important, and then would I drop the subject and accept my father's rule."
"So tell me why you did not accept your new master's rule," Kylar asked and Isidore sighed.
"I made a poor decision, but I am not given to disobedience," Isidore replied softly. "You said your friend was just and fair, but to deny Darani the benefit of insistence in matters which are important; that seems a little unjust. Also to deny me the right to see my brother before he left, knowing I wouldn't see him for Lodur knows how long, that seemed a little unkind."
"You should not question your master and especially not your Svarya," Kylar admonished him.
"You are right," Isidore conceded. The man spoke true; one did not question one's Svarya to whom one owed unstinting devotion. "Where are we now?" he asked suddenly, noting that they had left passing houses and fields and were now in a more built up part of the city.
"We are nearing the Quarter of the Temples," Kylar told him. "I know you are very devout, so I thought it might be nice for you to see the most religious part of our city first."
Isidore looked all about him and imagined he could feel the air of the divine permeating the area. To the left he saw a building around whose opening door was fashioned the fangs of a lion, so he knew this to be the temple of Gimsaar, and across from it was represented the temple of Gesh, with the signs of water and plants, the food of those that got eaten.
"Oh, wow!" A wave of heat hit them as they approached one temple and through its windows they could see that there burned a fiercely hot fire.
"The temple of Aegis," Kylar told him. "Have you not seen one before?"
"I have, but 'tis only a ceremonial fire the Aegian priests are required to keep burning, not a whole forge," Isidore said, feeling the heat as they moved past the temple within which a forge was kept burning.
Opposite to the Aegian temple resided that of Aeoren, god of the ploughshare, the brother-god to Aegis and representing all that may be got without bloodshed. There was a cool earthy smell to the temple and through the windows could be seen much plant-life. Isidore imagined it would be far more pleasant to be an Aeorine priest than one for his brother-god. He shivered as they passed the temple of Mol-Hotep and focused more on that of Mol-Jadin which represented just and fair appraisal rather than punishment which Mol-Hotep practiced without temperance.
Then they approached the temples of Ys and Osys. "I would like to make an offering." Isidore said suddenly, looking in the direction of the temple of Ys.
"Of course." Kylar veered his horse in the direction of the Ysian temple and halted it. "What will you give, little one?" he asked curiously.
Isidore pulled off the gold circlet that bound his braid. It was studded with precious jewels and just one of these would have been offering enough, but Isidore never did stint when giving to the gods. Also, he had no real interest in money, never having been involved in its acquisition; he had always taken for granted that it was available to him when he needed it. He knew his father had sent money with him to Sherim-Ra so that he would not arrive without means; what he did not know was that Kerim had sent every coin that was associated with Isidore back to his father.
They were met at the door to the temple by an Ysian priest; tall and slender, this one was Daja-born but had obviously been selected for the priesthood by his lack of warrior's physique.
"Welcome supplicant." The priest addressed this to Isidore since Kylar stood some distance back, waiting.
Isidore bowed low before him, holding out his palm upon which sat the circlet hair-binder. Because he kept his head lowered, he did not see the priest's eyes widen at the seeming value of the object, but Kylar did, and he hid his smile to see how the priest was dying to bite it to ascertain its true value.
Isidore kept his head lowered as he was led into the temple where sat the icon of Ys and its presiding priest who would enable him to make his supplication. Isidore knelt before the priest, his head bowed low, and felt the man's hand rest on his shoulder, his touch gently loving and Isidore sucked in a deep breath at it.
"What is the nature of your supplication?" the presiding priest asked.
"I wouldst love purely but cannot," Isidore whispered, a typical supplication made by one who followed Ys.
"In what sense?" the priest asked.
"I have been sold to a man's bed," Isidore replied.
The priest was silent for several moments and Isidore waited, his eyes upon the hem of the man's robe before which he kneeled.
"First there came Ys and born through him was Osys," the priest said; "the os cannot be practiced without the ys, thus is there purity of love even in the carnal acts." The priest lifted his pouch of stones from about his neck and selected one from it, placing it into Isidore's palm. It was a black opaque crystal flecked with white snowflake-like dapples. Isidore stared at it a moment.
"Does something else trouble the supplicant?" the priest asked.
"I do not love him, Father," Isidore answered, still holding his hand palm up with the stone upon it, but not looking up at the priest's face.
"For a supplicant of Ys to practice the carnal acts without love saddens Him," the priest said seriously. Ys felt no anger, only sadness over his followers who broke his precepts, but his sadness was to be felt as a great clawing pain in their hearts.
"What must I do, Father?" Isidore asked, feeling the sadness begin to envelop him.
"You must love even if it is not returned, for to love unrequited is to give love purely, thence will your carnal engagements not trouble your heart or that of your god," the priest said, then fished through his pouch to find another stone. This, when it was dropped into Isidore's palm, was one of purest white so that it almost glowed, giving back all the light that hit it.
"Is the supplicant finished?" the priest asked.
Isidore nodded and then he felt the sweetly loving hand of the man rest upon his shoulder, calming the troubling sadness of Ys somewhat.
"Make your supplication," the priest instructed him before leaning down to kiss the top of his bowed head.
Isidore did as he was told and moved to kneel before the icon of Ys and make his prayerful supplication with each stone clasped tightly in his hands. Afterwards, he kissed each stone and placed them at the base of the statue. Then he rose, bowing to the seated priest and those around the icon, all of whom nodded back kindly, and retreated from the temple.
"Did you make your supplication?" Kylar's voice brought him out of his reverie and he smiled up at the man.
"I did," he said, stiffening just a little as he was lifted about the waist and placed atop the horse.
Kylar jumped up behind him and then pulled the rein, veering the horse away from the Ysian temple and back to the road.
"We shall pass the temples of the sun-brothers soon," Kylar told him. "Do you know your brother and his party were taken there at their request after the raid gone awry?"
"I had heard that the raid went well enough but 'twas its after-effects that led to disaster," Isidore commented as they passed by a courtyard where the priests of the varying temples would meet and mingle. "But they were allowed to make amends for it to the Daja-ya then?"
"Indeed," Kylar told him.
"I am surprised. The Svarya seems not the kind of man who would be so magnanimous," Isidore said, though there was no censure in his voice.
"Kerim-ya has a lot of respect for your brother for he is a great warrior; the Svarya was not even censorious of his actions," Kylar told him. "He said he would have probably done the same were he still feeling the effects of a good raid."
"Really?" Isidore asked incredulously.
"Really. He wanted very much to test his mettle against Barik-aya in challenge; but wanted to wait until they were on neutral territory to do so," Kylar told him, and then he grinned. "Also, he felt 'twas best to ask for something else for your brother's slight."
Isidore stiffened. "I see," he said woodenly.
"Ah do not take it so badly, little one. He had heard of your beauty and saw the opportunity of having you, so he took it," Kylar told him. "And you cannot deny 'twas the best way to have an alliance formed between he and your father; or would you rather have had a war simmering on both our horizons?"
"No," Isidore conceded.
"Ah, we have reached the temple of the Daja-ya," Kylar said suddenly and as they came upon the warriors' temple he made a sign of worship to the Daja-ya.
Isidore turned in the other direction, toward the temple of the Dara-ya and, as his eyes took in the scene, his mouth dropped. Surely this was not a place where the little sun-brother was worshipped? It seemed as a temple devoted to Osys, but in a less discrete manner. In front stood a Dara whom Isidore guessed was a priest, by the coronet he wore about his head, but his robes were of a gauzy material and nearly transparent. He was approached by a Daja who leaned down to speak to him and then slid his hand down to cup his buttocks through the filmy fabric of his robes. The two of them then walked into the temple.
"Is that the temple of the Dara-ya?" Isidore asked, reaching over Kylar's hand and pulling on the rein to stop the horse.
"It is," Kylar said. "Did you want to go and make an offering there also?" He seemed a little uncomfortable with the prospect.
"I would like to see it," Isidore said, his voice devoid of all tone.
Kylar veered the horse around and pulled it up in front of the temple. "If you wish to make an offering, then I will give you coin to do so; you cannot make an offering in the traditional sense."
Isidore frowned up at him once they had dismounted. The traditional sense? He wondered, for was not giving coin or items of value the traditional manner of making any offering to the gods?
They were not greeted at the door by a priest, for that one had gone off with the Daja he had seen before. So they entered the temple themselves and there Isidore got the shock of his life.
All around the temple there was...sex. It was indeed like any shrine to Osys; only the relations were not shielded from public view by curtains. They were out in the open, all around, and the activities were being undertaken by priests and supplicants alike. His eyes flared as they lit on one Dara-yan priest engaged in congress with two Dajani, the one impaling him from behind, the other kneeling in front and the priest had taken him into his mouth. Further along he saw four men engaged with one another: two Dajani, a Dara-yan priest and a Daran supplicant. The supplicant was lying on his back and taking the priest in his mouth; the priest then had his mouth on the phallus of a kneeling Daja; and the other Daja was presently lifting up the supplicant and positioning the Dara's legs around his hips so that he might impale him that way. All about was this kind of congress; multiples of Darani and Dajani engaging in it together, moaning and crying out as they cavorted. The whole temple was permeated with the scent of seed. Isidore turned and pushed past Kylar, running out of the unholy temple and into the bright suns-light, where he leaned over, breathing deeply and bracing his hands on his knees while he fought off the retching sensations.
"Isidore?" Kylar came up behind him, his voice filled with concern.
Isidore straightened, turning to him in horror. "Is that...is that what they call worship in the temple of the Dara-ya?" he asked, his voice diminished with his shock.
"It is making supplication," Kylar answered and Isidore's hand flew to his mouth as he fought off another retching sensation.
What vile heresy was being practiced in the temple of his own people's protector? No wonder the Darani suffered so in Sherim-Ra; every day they were committing such false worship in the temple of their own god.
"I want to go," Isidore said coldly. "Do let us leave this apostate temple."
Kylar did not question him further; merely following him to the horse and lifting him atop it, then mounting himself. Once they were far away from the temple of the Dara-ya, he could feel Isidore begin to slightly relax before him.
"I wish to go to the market," Isidore said, his voice still wooden.
"Certainly little one," Kylar said.
"And may I borrow coin from you to make a purchase? I can repay you when we return to the castle," Isidore told him, his voice remaining grave.
"Your master will see to all your expenses, so you may have as much coin as you like for the markets," Kylar responded cheerfully.
"I only wish for enough to buy an image," Isidore replied and then was silent as they turned in the direction of the markets when they got to the end of the lane of temples.
"Whose image will you buy, Darima?" Kylar thought to ask him once they had reached the markets.
"That of the Dara-ya," Isidore replied curtly as they walked past all the teaming buyers and sellers.
He tried three stalls selling icons of a size appropriate to have in a room. He wasn't satisfied with any of the images, which all displayed the Dara-ya as a sexual object with buttocks and phallus accentuated or on open display. At the fourth stall he managed to find an image of the Dara-ya hidden among those more vulgar, which displayed him in a somewhat decent state of dress and this Kylar supplied him with the coin to buy. After it was wrapped up in cloths he clutched it to his chest, shaking his head when Kylar asked if he would like to browse any more of the market, and so they made their way back to where their horse was tethered.
Isidore remained wide-eyed and close-mouthed all the way back to the castle; merely shaking his head when he was asked if he would like to visit anywhere else. Thus were their explorations cut short for the day. Kylar tried several times to cajole him out of his silence, but soon realized the futility of it when Isidore remained steeped in his own reflection. They were silent for the remainder of the ride.
After thanking Kylar most perfunctorily for the outing, he ran to the Svarya's chambers, keeping his wrapped icon still clutched to his chest, and there he let go his tears. Kylar had been right in his summation of him; Isidore was most devout. And so it had actually made him ill to see the defilement of the Dara-yan temple; to see what they called supplication, which was little more than serving their own pleasure. He had read the scrolls of the Dara-ya; he knew such was sacrilege to His precepts. Fucking on the grounds of His temple, in front of His own image, was foulest heresy. Not only that, but they had sexualised all His images so that the Dara-ya was depicted as little more than a vessel for pleasure, and a slave thereof. Ah to enslave a god! What destruction would they bring upon their heads in Sherim-Ra to do so?
His hands trembled as he unwrapped the image of the Dara-ya and kissed His coolly serene face, a representation of modest and regal subjection. He thanked Lodur he had found this image which depicted the truth of the Dara-ya. He walked into the bed-chamber and placed the icon on a stand in the corner left of the door, for that was where it was appropriate for Him to go. Once he had placed Him atop his stand, Isidore knelt before the image and begged His forgiveness on behalf of the Sherim-Ranians for what he had seen in the temple. He recited an incantation of the Dara-yan brotherhood, which he had learned as part of his studies. He chose one he had learned from the old scrolls; one that begged the Dara-ya to be forgiving of the ignorance of His big brother, the Daja-ya; one that few knew even existed and those who did kept quiet. This he recited over and over until his lips were sore from the whisperings, then he rose and kissed the image before he moved away from it.
He was exhausted; the whole experience of the day had taken its toll on him. Only his second day in Sherim-Ra, and already he felt his heart straining under its hefty punishment. The doors to the balcony were open, being kept propped so during the daylight hours, and so Isidore went out feeling the heat of the afternoon suns envelop him. Instinctively his feet carried him in the direction in which he knew Sheq-Kis-Ra lay, since it was to the west of Sherim-Ra. Walking to the corner of the balcony which faced directly into the falling brother-suns, he sat on the bench there and closed his eyes in reflection; resting his head on his forearm which lay across the balcony railing and sighing softly.