Sandstorm (50 page)

Jerking his gaze away, Aik refilled his wine dish and did not look up again.

"Match!"

His expression remained solemn, but the smirk in Bey's dark eyes was unmistakable. Only the fact that protocol must be followed kept Aik from rolling his eyes.

They turned as one and bowed as Shah approached, clapping approvingly for the performance. "Well done. Thank you for the performance."

"It is an honor to perform for your Majesty and honored guests," Aik said loudly, clearly.

Beside him Beynum added his own platitudes, then they bowed again and returned to the table as Shah called for the next entertainment - Nanda.

Aik nodded politely to the men watching him, a master monk and three disciples from a valley temple he remembered hearing about once, but had never visited. The uniforms were different from the one he'd once worn - darker fabric, the tunic and pants a bit more restrictive.

"Wine?" Bey asked soundlessly, and poured for him. A dark, sweet wine, their preferred for long dinners like this. At Nanda's empty place was a much paler wine, the taste bitter. Aik was equally fond of it, but it was more potent so he drank it less often.

Witcher glanced at them as he poured wine for Shah, sky-blue eyes bright with the pleasure that watching them perform always brought. Aik smiled briefly back, before turning to his duties of entertaining, edging into a conversation between one of the disciples and a woman of the Queen's harem, smirking at how nervous the man was to be addressed by such a beautiful woman.

"My pardon, Lord Aikhadour."

Aik glanced toward the master. "Sir?"

"Are you…were you a student of the mountain temple at some point? I visited there several years ago, and again more recently, and recognize your fighting style."

"Yes, I was," Aik said. "I left it three years ago to remain here with my King." Which should have put an end to the inquiry.

But the master did not stop. "Yes…your former Master still speaks of you. If you are indeed who I think you are, that is. He mourns the loss of his finest student, and laments ever finding another."

"I was never so special as that," Aik said calmly, carefully setting down his wine dish before he spilled it. "When I left, there were at least three others of my level or greater. I recall two who had more promise than I. As I chose to leave, I was never a true disciple anyway."

The master monk nodded and murmured noncommittally, and allowed the topic of conversation to change. But Aik felt unwelcome eyes on him the rest of the night.

"Why so quiet, Aik?" Witcher asked after they had seen the Queen to her chambers. "You've been all monkish," he said with a wink, "since that stuffy master asked about when you were part of the temple."

Aik shrugged. "If I had remained with the temple, I would be working my way through level eight and toward nine. Few disciples make it that far. I showed great promise. The master regarded me highly." He frowned. "But he isn't the sort to 'lament' a 'lost pupil.'. There were no hard feelings when I said would not be returning." He shrugged again. "So I wonder what that conversation was really about."

Shah frowned pensively. "So do I. He was being rude, and apparently lying."

"He also seemed fairly young," Witcher commented. "For a master, or at least my impression has always been that such men are generally much older. I mean, Aik wouldn't even have achieved full level ten until he was nearly forty, right? And the steps to Master beyond that…"

"I could have done it sooner," Aik said, the words said simply, not smugly. "The master never doubted for a minute I was capable; that was part of the reason he agreed to let me journey to the palace. But I am not valuable, not the way that master implied. There were other, equally promising students."

Shah smiled. "I don't know about that - royal property tends to be regarded as quite valuable."

Aik and Witcher laughed. "I pity the name who tries to use the lot of us against you," Witcher said. "Within a day, Bey would have them paying you to take us back."

Chuckling in amusement, Shah did not argue the point. But it was soon replaced by his thoughtful frown. "I will look further into this monk. It seemed a simple visit, and I enjoy guests, but not if they are going to lie or upset my men."

"I'm sure it's nothing, Shah." Aik said. "If anything, he was probably just expressing disapproval that a monk would give up the true and noble path to live a pampered life in the palace."

Witcher laughed and dropped an arm around Aik's shoulders, his other hand in Shah's. "But you make such a fine decadent monk; how could anyone begrudge Shah stealing you away?"

Aik smiled and leaned in to give Witcher a quick kiss. "I try to live up to the title I seem to have acquired."

"Now, see? If all monks did that, I bet the religious life would be plenty more appealing. You should start something like the 'decadent path,' Aik."

"I think not," Shah said dryly. "With a path such as that, I would have a hard time getting people to follow any path except the religious. I would prefer the 'decadent path' confine itself to my chambers."

Witcher grinned. "So what's the seventh level of the decadent path?"

"I'll show you," Aik said with a grin of his own.

Aik looked up from his book at the sound of movement - and froze. He scrambled to bow.

"Majesty," he said to the floor. He could not think of what to say next.

"Are you enjoying your stay, Aikhadour?"

It sounded…unsettling to hear his name spoken so. Had King Shahjahan purposely left off
the honorific 'Brother'? Why? Even stranger, why did the King know his name? He was the
least of his Brothers, hardly worthy anyone, least of all the King, remembering.

"Yes, Majesty. Of course. Your palace is beautiful." When he'd first arrived at the temple, a
child dumped by parents who could not afford another mouth, he had thought the austere
temple the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But the palace was breathtaking, and only
grew more so every day that he was here. There was a warmth to it the temple lacked,
marks of a history as colorful as the temple was severe. Among the inhabitants there were
layers of protocol, enough rules to make a man dizzy, etiquette that could take years to truly
master…but intermingled there was humor, conversation, exotic dinners and every day was
different.

Not like the temple at all. Meditation rather than conversation. Plain foods, to keep the mind
properly focused. Routine that never altered, except where season and weather forced the
monks into alternate practices that were themselves routine. He'd never had a problem with
that before. It gave his life order, chores and mediation gave him meaning…or at least
something.

Oh, these doubts wouldn't do. He was a level seven monk; in less than a decade he could be
a full level ten, years ahead of his peers. Another decade past that and he would be a master
himself, perhaps could enough to take over one of the smaller temples when one required a
master. That was his life, his purpose. He had the skills and ability to lead others down the
Path.

It was sign of terrible weakness that rather than his chants and prayers and forms, his mind
was filled with thoughts of the amazing palace, bright and colorful meals shared with equally
fascinating people…and an entrancing King and his equally fascinating Harem.

Two short weeks and he'd already lost his way.

But was it entirely his fault? When his brothers had abandoned him to 'study' elsewhere in
the palace. When the King had him so strangely captivated? When every night at dinner,
Lord Beynum watched him, some unspoken challenge in his half-wild eyes? When Nanda
played so beautifully Aik ached to able to express how much he enjoyed listening?

He ached for a great deal, and that troubled him the most. But he could not place the blame
for his weakness at the feet of someone else. The fault was his, and he would simply have to
work harder to overcome it.

"I am glad you like it. You are not as…exuberant as your brethren and I worried you were
unhappy."

Aik just barely resisted wrinkling his nose. Even Eldest was proving to be quite weak against
the decadence of court life. So strange, and discouraging, to see his mentor drinking and
laughing and acting much like a man of the court. It left him feeling as though he had no
where to turn for help. Never mind the humiliation, for monks to behave so poorly. "I am
humbled your Majesty is concerned over my insignificant welfare."

"Hardly insignificant, Aikhadour. What are you reading?" Aikhadour's shoulder was gently
touched, indicating that the monk should sit up.

"A memoir, Majesty, of a monk who traveled extensively to further his studies."

"Ah, I recall the book. Quite a fascinating man."

Aik blinked, surprised. "Yes," he agreed at last. Master had always been so strict about
remaining secluded in the mountain temple. There were few good reasons to leave it - this
trip certainly was not one of them. Were he around, Master would no doubt disapprove of
Aik's selection. "It is admirable that he resisted so much temptation, and stuck to his true
path." Unlike Aik, who every day felt a little more lost.

"Mmm…" Shah said thoughtfully. "I do not see it that way. In traveling, he explored every
option. After examining each choice, he still new the religious path was the right one for him.

How do you ever know your path if you do not explore all of them to some degree?" He
watched Aik intently.

Aik dropped his gaze and looked blankly at the pages before him.

"You grew up in the mountain temple, did you not?" Shahjahan asked in an abrupt change of
subject.

"Yes," Aik answered, then hastily corrected himself. "Yes, Majesty."

Shahjahan smiled briefly, and Aik was struck by how boyish it seemed. "That would explain
the composure you bear with such ease. But if you have lived in the mountain for so many
years, you must be familiar with the flowers common there."

Aik nodded, feeling it would be idiotic to keep repeating 'Yes, Majesty'

"My gardens hold quite a variety; I am afraid I share my mother's passion for flowers. I also
have more than even a King needs, I confess they are an indulgence. All of them are
beautiful, but there are two flowers I prefer above all others. One is a lovely desert rose, such
as is only found in this country. Quite lovely, of rare quality, and the only one left - the rest of
the bush, I'm afraid, rotted and was thrown out. The second flower is a simple wildflower -

native to nothing, and makes a home wherever it finds fertile soil. It's flourished quite nicely in
my garden, far better than it would have otherwise, or so I like to think."

"Majesty?" Aik asked, uncertain as to what he was really saying.

"But two weeks ago I realized quite suddenly what my garden lacks." Shahjahan gazed at
him until Aik once more dropped his eyes. "Mountain lilies are as strong as they are beautiful.

It's said the strongest of them could survive even frost. They flourish where many equally
lovely flowers would not dare to go. An interesting balance, I think, to a rose and a
wildflower."

Aik didn't jump when Shahjahan suddenly tilted his chin up with gentle fingers, but he could
not prevent a sharp intake of breath. "Your companions are not surviving this atmosphere;
even your Eldest is withering, overwhelmed by a soil too rich with things that may as well be
poison. You, however, seem to be taking to it well. I believe you would flourish, were you to
remain and join my garden. But it is your path to choose." The fingers slid away.

He swore he could hear his heart beating in his chest, so hard he thought it might burst out.

How badly he wanted, now that the path had been opened. To never leave…to meet the
challenge in the eyes that sat across from him each night…to tell…show the beautiful
Nandakumar how much he adored his melodies. To always be close to this King who held
him entranced. Aik licked his dry lips and leaned slightly forward, not quite certain what to do,
not trusting himself to speak.

But Shahjahan seemed to know his thoughts, his decision, because he leaned across the
remaining space between them and took Aik's mouth in a possessive, consuming kiss. There
were always monks who engaged in such things, and had tried to coerce Aik to play with
them. He had always turned away, never anything more than slightly annoyed and vaguely
amused by the idiotic weaknesses to which his brother fell prey.

There was nothing annoying or remotely amusing about Shahjahan's kiss. It was startling,
and humbling, because he realized that his life until this moment had not been much of one
at all. Perhaps for others it would be, but his path, always a struggle to see, was suddenly
plain before him. It was not a path he would have ever considered. "Majesty," he said
breathlessly, when they finally broke apart.

"Shah, my monk," Shah said with a smile. "If you are mine, you must call me Shah."

Aik shivered at the possessive phrasing. "Shah," he said obediently, and leaned in for a
second kiss.

"Do you miss temple life at all?" the Master asked with seeming idleness.

Aik did not immediately reply, though his answer required no thought. "I do not. It was what I needed, in my early years. The temples helped to make me what I am, but ultimately I believe they crafted me for my true path, which is at my King's side."