All works Copyright L.E. Bryce

Becoming - Buy Now

The sloop turned toward the deeper water of the harbor, where the sea began to roughen. Unused to boats, the young man grimaced as nausea threatened to overcome him. He managed to hold his stomach. The fisherman and his crew noted his pallor with disdain, but his coin was good and, as long as he stayed out of their way, they would not bother him.

Waves frothed in the wake of the boat as the wind caught the sails, and it picked up speed. Among the whitecaps he saw the sleek, darting bodies that could only be hrill. On the port side, the fishermen paused over their nets to call out to them, to the dolphins frolicking among the seal-like creatures to compete for attention, and the fish heads the men would eventually toss back into the waves.

Swaying with the movement of the boat and his own unsteadiness, the young man stepped up to the stern, ostensibly to get a better look at the hrill. His breath caught at the dark heads that emerged from the waves to regard him; all his life he had heard of these sacred, intelligent creatures but had never seen one. The waterfront neighborhoods were too rough for well-bred youths, said his father, and his mother complained that such places always smelled unpleasant. From his bedchamber window the young man could see the ocean, and drink in the salty tang of the air that blew inland to cool warm summer afternoons. Until now, that was all he ever knew of the sea.

"You are very beautiful," he murmured to the hrill. With trembling hands, he gripped the rail to lean out and watch them. Time pressed down upon him. Urgency and fear made his heart race. If he was to do it, now was the time. There would not be a second chance.

"What are you doing?"

The boy's voice cut through the breeze, an arrow of annoyance that made him start. Forcing a smile, the young man turned to see about getting rid of the child. "Can you read?"

Curious gray eyes met his. "Just a little, sir, but my da can read better."

From his pocket, he took a sealed letter and pressed it into the boy's hand. He had meant to leave it on deck, but this was better. Its discovery would not be left to chance. "When the boat comes to shore, give your father this. Remember, when you dock and not before, and you are to tell no one you have it until then." He emphasized his point with a silver coin and bade the child to be off.

Toward the prow, he heard the fishermen calling out to each other. Rough nets were cast overboard, well away from the hrill who veered to avoid them. Now was the time, he decided, when their eyes were turned and they had no mind for him.

He pulled himself over the wooden rail, balancing there while he swung his other leg over. Splinters dug into his palms. Sea spray flew up into his face; he licked salt droplets from his lips. Behind him, he heard a shout and knew it was for him. He did not turn to see who had called out or bother to note what the man said. When the rail slid from his grasp, gravity sped him into the water. The sea weighted his clothing, surging into his mouth. Through the stinging spray he saw the boat making a sharp turn. Voices called out advice to tread water and remain calm. No one knew he could not swim.

Pale sky and blurred faces vanished under a smothering blanket of foam. Water swirled into his lungs and, whether he wanted it or not, the body's fight for survival began.

The Golden Lotus - Buy Now

This one has not the balls to suffer in silence. Rahmad gazed down at his kneeling captive. He will seize any offer I make, as long as he can crawl back to his mother's skirts and perfumed palace .

"You may have me in chains," the young man said, lifting his chin proudly, "but you have not won."

Stepping forward, the High Prince let his leather-clad fingers caress his captive's cheek before roughly cupping his chin in his palm, wrenching the young man's head to one side so that he faced the plain below. "Look well, Prince Senesret. My forces have taken the field, and even now my troops are pushing the remnants of your father's army back beyond the borders of Juva. You may deny it all you wish, but in the end it is my deeds, not your words, that matter."

"Your victory is but temporary."

Rahmad smiled and let his hand fall, though the temptation to backhand the young man remained. From the moment the Juvan prince was captured, he had expected some show of defiance from the youth. Senesret did not disappoint. Smudged kohl gave his eyes a wild look, his wig hung askew, and gore spattered his gilt armor; the blood had come from the bodyguards who had kept him from the worst fighting, and who ultimately fell defending his chariot.

He is merely a boy pretending to be a general , Rahmad thought contemptuously. Senesret had not even bloodied his sword, nor had he the decency to take his own life rather than be captured. On the plain below the gates of Atrija, where the dead and wounded were still being tallied, six hundred Juvan prisoners awaited the conqueror's pleasure. Given his own losses, and the inconvenience of mustering an army and marching across the desert in the blistering heat, Rahmad had little reason to be merciful.

It was unfortunate that the Juvan kings, enemies for more than eight generations, had forgotten their opponent's lineage. Rahmad's dynasty was not the weak one that had ruled Tajhaan for two hundred years and brought it to the brink of ruin, but was descended from a line of vigorous desert chieftains. With this victory, Rahmad became a conqueror in the eyes of his people, earning him the right to add the honorific dharu to his patronymic, and guaranteeing that the Juvans would now pay heed when he warned them not to cross his borders.

"I think not," he replied. Letting his lips curl into a predatory smile, he added, "Of course, you realize I could strike your head off and mount it on a pike as I have done with your fallen soldiers. But in light of your obvious youth and inexperience, I am prepared to be reasonable. You will return to Tajhaan with me as a hostage--"

"I would rather die than set foot in your filthy--"

This time, Rahmad silenced his captive with a swift backhand across the face. Senesret recoiled, tasted the blood from his cut lip, and grew silent.

"Let me remind you again who is the victor and who is the prisoner," growled Rahmad. "Your incompetence has cost many worthy lives on both sides, so I do not think you are in a position to bargain. However, since you so vehemently reject my hospitality, I am willing to return you unharmed to your father if you can provide me with a suitable substitute."

Senesret smiled, blood staining his teeth scarlet. "If that is all, I have servants who will--"

"I am not interested in menial laborers," said Rahmad, enjoying the prince's look of consternation. "You will provide me with someone of noble blood, young prince, willing to stand surety for your continued good behavior."

In truth, he almost hoped that no one would vouch for the prince, and that Senesret would be forced to participate in his captor's triumphal procession before ending his days in Tajhaan, well-treated but in the humiliating position of royal hostage. However, experience taught Rahmad that sooner or later his captive would plot against him, forcing him to execute the young man, and that sending him home would avert much trouble later.

Concubinage - Buy Now

"My dear, you have been out in the sun today, haven't you?"

Hanithi evaded the question with a polite smile. His escort, a wine merchant from Akkil, lacked the status to secure a place within the temple of Shalat, forcing Hanithi to watch the High Prince's procession from the plaza among scores of other middle-ranking courtesans.

The omission did not smart quite as much as the humiliation of being forced out from underneath the sunshade by Nesper's ample girth.

"You must take greater care with your complexion, my dear," said his hostess.

Wrinkling a sunburned nose, wincing at the mild discomfort, Hanithi assured her that he would. "Your advice is precious to me, my lady," he said.

Tanarharit, her attention already on her next guest, urged him to enjoy the hospitality of her house. While the merchant gravitated toward the servants bearing trays of food and wine, Hanithi sidled past milling nobles, tradesmen, and courtesans, dodging inquiries from attentive slaves as he left the atrium and stepped outside.

A secluded garden beckoned just off the inner courtyard, down a shaded walk. In summer, ripe herbs and fruit trees would make this a fragrant oasis, cooled by the fountain at its center. For now, it simply offered a pleasant retreat in which to enjoy the final hours of a warm spring afternoon.

"What is such a lovely akharu doing without a companion?" asked a voice.

Sitting on the wide edge of the pool, a young man trailed long fingers through the water. Beaded sandals lay discarded on the tiles below him.

"You do not seem to have one either," replied Hanithi.

The young man, who could not be older than twenty, had the beardless, indolent look of a well-bred courtesan. In short, a potential rival.

Laughter greeted his remark. "Rest assured that I did not come alone. Sadly, though, my client prefers to celebrate this holy day with business rather than the pleasure of my company. But come, whoever chose that pink garland for you? It clashes horribly with your robe."

Hanithi, ready to turn on his heel and return to the atrium, frowned at him. "Unless you mean to exchange garlands with me, spare me your comments," he said crossly. "It is rude."

Still laughing, now slipping his garland of white flowers over his head, the young man tossed it to him. "If you prefer mine, it is yours for the asking," he said. "I am Inandré, by the way, and you still have not answered my question. How does such a lovely courtesan manage to be without a companion on the day of the Great Marriage?"

Hanithi could not decide which bothered him more: Inandré's lazy, seductive manner or his ready laughter. "I never said I was alone."

"Oh, but you are!" said Inandré, grinning. "How else do I find you here, so forlorn and eager for my conversation?"

"Had I known I would be so accosted, I would have stayed inside," replied Hanithi.

Inandré chuckled. "Your sweet blush tells me otherwise. Now tell me truly: why are you not with your client?"

"Because at this moment he prefers a good meal over good company," said Hanithi. "I am sure he will want me later, but right now I have had too much to do with crowds of people. I desired a few moments of quiet. Sadly--" He glared meaningfully at Inandré. "It seems to have eluded me."

Inandré watched him with intent dark eyes. "That pink garland still looks horrid on you," he commented. "Come, take that off and I will give you mine."

"It will look no better on you."

"When men look at me they are not thinking about the flowers around my neck, except how to get them and everything else off me," laughed Inandré. "As for the women, they are usually eating themselves with envy over my jewelry or wanting to know the name of my designer. At least I will have the pleasure of seeing you wear my flowers."

"You are shameless."

"A modest courtesan rarely finds success. When I want something, I pursue it--and what I want right now is that horrid garland from around your neck."

Hanithi removed the flowers and started to hand them to Inandré, but to his surprise the young man gracefully rose and bowed his head. "I will appreciate it more if you put it on me yourself."

"Are you flirting with me?" asked Hanithi.

"Yes, and shamelessly."

"Should akhari be doing that with their peers?"

Inandré purred as the garland slipped over his head and draped over his shoulders. "If you have to ask, then you obviously have not been a courtesan for very long."

Hanithi stepped away, taking a seat on the opposite end of the fountain. Inandré laughed at the gesture, the sound alternately arousing and infuriating. "It has been long enough."

"Long enough, and still one as lovely as you manages only to attract middle-ranking admirers?" asked Inandré. "Either you are too shy to make good use of your beauty, or you are a complete novice."

Rather than answer, Hanithi studied the cobalt tiles that lined the fountain, tinting the water blue. As part of his manumission gift, his master had provided a modest house and pension, enough to enable him to become a courtesan. Many nobles had shown interest in his favors, and his golden beauty should have won him higher-ranking admirers than it had.

Nothing was as it should be. Nesper had paid handsomely for his company, which was just as well, because Hanithi needed the money to pay his clothier's bill, but something was lacking. He stared at his reflection, shadowed by the trees above, and wondered what he could have done wrong.

Inandré seemed to read his thoughts. "I should not tease you," he said. "You have no more control over what men want than I do. Everyone is pining after that pale creature who is the new royal favorite. Half the akhari I know have tried to bleach their hair. Two have burned theirs past repair, and all of them look ridiculous."

"I have no complaints," Hanithi said quietly.

Scornful laughter jarred his ears. "Of course you do. You are simply too well-bred to say so."

"Are you commiserating with me, or trying to seduce me with compliments?"

Inandré resumed his place. Fingertips playfully flicked droplets in Hanithi's direction, scattering his reflection, and irritating him. "Can I not do both?"

"If this is your best effort, you will not succeed."

"Ah, but if you truly found me annoying, you would have already left," said Inandré. "That you remain tells me I have some small chance."

After a moment's thought, Hanithi answered with his own flicker of droplets, dampening the front of Inandré's garment. "Has anyone told you how insolent you are?"

"Many times, and that is only within the last hour." Grinning, Inandré shook water off the garland. "Admit it, dear. You are enjoying yourself far more with me than with whatever bore you arrived with."

Hanithi suddenly remembered his client. Sooner or later, once the man had finished stuffing himself, Nesper would want his company. "I should not linger too long."

"Curse me for having reminded you," said Inandré. "Now you will leave me alone again, and--" An artful hand fluttered over his brow, his throat, warding off an imaginary attack of the vapors. "Whatever shall I do?"

"Return to your own client before he curses you for your inattention and passes the word to all his friends." From a pocket deep within his robe, Hanithi withdrew a fired clay wafer and handed it to Inandré. Such tokens he gave to admirers and others whose company he sought.

Inandré studied the imprint left by the cylinder seal. "So your name is Hanithi," he said, drawing out the syllables. "A fitting name for such a succulent plum."

He smiled and tucked the wafer into his robe. "You will see me again, my dear."

Hanithi was abashed and aroused enough that, had circumstances permitted, he would have invited Inandré to his house that very evening. However, a proper akharu never strayed too long from his client's side, no matter how disinterested the man might seem.

As expected, Nesper scarcely noticed his absence or his presence when he returned to the crowded atrium, and after a few hours Hanithi went home to a solitary bed.

The irony of his situation was not lost upon him, for the Great Marriage was not an occasion to be without a lover. Half the city is making love tonight , he thought, staring at the ceiling above his bed, and yet here I am, a beautiful courtesan, all alone .