Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire (6 page)

‘
Fight
me,’ he echoed, and put his head on one side, then laughed and put
up his fists before his face. ‘Are you suggesting physical
combat?’

I would not
let him unnerve me. ‘If necessary.’

He grinned, as
if my threats meant nothing to him, then got unsteadily to his
feet. He walked in a zig-zag to the balustrade with the puppy
cavorting round his ankles, and there leaned down on the stone,
staring out towards the misty bulk of Phasmagore.

I stood
awkwardly for a few moments, then went to stand beside him. Gazing
upon the temple made me feel hot and anxious, but I felt compelled
to do so.

‘
We have
wonders in Mewt too,’ Akaten said, and now his voice had become
more steady, ‘but the temple of Challis here is perhaps more
splendid.’

I managed to
expel a choked laugh. ‘Really! I thought you believed everything
Cossic to be inferior to anything Mewtish.’

He glanced at
me sideways. ‘No, I mean it. The temple is wondrous. I went there
yesterday, and it left me... breathless.’

I held his
gaze for a moment, and felt the heat come to my face. Once again, I
was unsure whether the stranger in the shrine had really been him
or not. If it had been, this cool posturing now was senseless, but
if not, I risked making a complete fool of myself.

‘
What’s
the matter?’ he asked me. ‘Your deathly face has become almost
alive, or is that a blush?’

‘
I
thought I saw you in the temple yesterday,’ I said.

He shrugged,
yawned and dragged his hands over his face. ‘Perhaps you did, but
it is a massive place, so it would have been a remarkable
coincidence if we’d bumped into one another there.’

Despite the
narcotics in his body, he was too composed to have been my
ephemeral lover. If we’d truly shared that experience, there was no
way he could be so dispassionate now, but I had to be convinced.
‘Are you sure we did not meet at the temple?’

He shook his
head. ‘I can’t remember. Everything’s so… muddled. I wanted only
the solace of the goddess and to make my farewells to my love.’

‘
Please
try to remember.’ I was aghast at myself for my
persistence.

Akaten
frowned. ‘Why are you so concerned about it? Were you doing
something there that you shouldn’t?’

Was he
laughing at me? I wished I could be certain about him, one way or
the other. ‘I never do anything I shouldn’t,’ I said lightly. ‘I
was mistaken about you. It’s of no consequence.’

We went to sit
upon cushions, and his attendants brought us wine and sweet-meats.
I could not force food down my throat, but sipped the wine
cautiously. All the time, he watched me, blinking. Was that
amusement in his clouded eyes? ‘You no longer seem grieved,’ I
said, hoping to puncture his good humour. I watched with
satisfaction as his face dropped.

‘
I will
always grieve,’ he answered. ‘It is beyond your
comprehension.’

I almost
pitied him. He looked utterly bewildered, his mind fogged by the
philtres he’d been given. ‘You are still young,’ I remarked, biting
into a sickly sweet. ‘And the human spirit can be remarkably
elastic.’

He shrugged,
still frowning. ‘Harakhte once said to me that life is a dynamic
process and constantly throws new challenges into our path. I’m not
sure what I’m supposed to do now.’ He shook his head, then looked
at me. ‘Must I live? Is that what he would have wanted?’

‘
You’ll
live,’ I said. ‘It is our instinct to survive.’

‘
But
here
? In
Cos?’

I sighed. ‘You
have no choice.’

He drank some
wine. ‘No.’

So began my
care-taking of the Khan’s boy. During the first weeks, the king did
not see Akaten once, but often asked me of his progress. I kept my
answers vague; enough to satisfy without giving too much
information. Alofel seemed pleased with that. He trusted me.

I knew I would
have to be careful and keep a check on both my jealousy and my
wayward desire. I was still unsure of what Alofel was planning. The
implications of Akaten’s presence in the palace were at best
unsettling. My feelings were torn.

Akaten was
very ill, I could see that. At times, demented with grief, he would
throw himself against my unyielding body to pour out his misery.
Only the most inhuman creature could resist such pathetic, childish
appeals for comfort. I put my arms about him as a brother, and felt
nothing but pity for him.

Then there
were the occasions when the herbal liquors in his blood made him
almost coquettish. This was when I hated and desired him most. He
would laugh uncontrollably at nothing, dance to unheard music and
complain of unbearable itching in his lungs and head. To soothe
him, I began to read aloud to him. At first, the sound of my voice
appeared to irritate him, but then, as I kept my pitch low, he
would relax and lie upon the cushions by my feet with eyes half
open like a corpse.

One day, I
read to Akaten a story of love. It was about an ill-favoured poet
who desired a blind boy. The story was hackneyed and it was no
surprise that the boy found the poet’s words beautiful and did not
care he had a warty face. However, as I read, I felt emotion rise
within me. “As I recited my ode to him, his white eyes stared at
the clouds. I knew he could not see me, would never see me. If I
was silent, I might not exist…” It seemed too pertinent, and I
stopped reading.

At my feet,
Akaten opened his eyes. ‘Don’t stop. Your voice is soothing.’

I did not want
him to look at me. ‘It’s a vapid tale.’ I threw the book onto the
floor. ‘Tomorrow, I’ll bring something better.’

Akaten looked
at his hands, which were laced on his stomach. Gazing at him, I
realised he seemed more composed, less confused than he had been.
‘I liked the story,’ he said.

‘
You
can’t mean that!’ I forced a laugh. ‘How are you feeling
today?’

He tilted back
his head on the cushions and looked at me. ‘Things seem more real
today. I think the palace torturers have decreased my dose of
poison.’

‘
And how
do you feel about that?’

He wrinkled
his nose. ‘I don’t know. I don’t really feel anything. It’s
odd.’

‘
Do you
still want to die?’

He was silent
for a moment, and my heart seemed to pause, waiting for the
answer.

‘
Darien,
I realise now that you spoke sense to me that first night, when you
pulled me off the window-sill. I must thank you for it. If you
hadn’t come to me, I might well be dead now and, you are right,
Harakhte would not have wanted that. He was never selfish or
cruel.’

‘
I had
no choice but to come,’ I said coldly.

‘
I know
that,’ he replied. ‘But you could have let me fall.’ He squirmed
round to lie on his belly, chin resting in his hands. ‘I expect you
sometimes wish you had.’

I looked back
at him. His sensitivity unsettled me. ‘I am the king’s servant and
he wishes you to be well again. My feelings are irrelevant.’

Akaten reached
out and touched one of my feet. ‘Darien, that is not true. I dare
to think that once you hated me, but now you have come to like me a
little. I have never wished you ill. I am here by an accident of
fate.’

I wanted to
reach out and touch his face, but resisted. A voice in my mind
nagged that I must still be cautious. In his place, I would want to
make a friend of the king’s favourite, but only as a safety
measure. ‘Fate is capricious,’ I said. ‘We both know that.’

He shook his
head. ‘Darien, something has happened between us. Can’t you feel
it?’

I felt as if
the sky had fractured. ‘What?’

He looked at
me. ‘I can’t explain...’ He kneeled before me and took my arms in
his hands. ‘I want us to be friends. I need a friend. I am afraid.
You are the only stable thing in my life now.’

My whole body
had become rigid. I wanted to pull away from him, sure he was
playing with me, but wanting to believe he spoke without guile. ‘I
will do whatever the king asks of me. Yes, we shall be
friends.’

He closed his
eyes and shook his head, as if in pain. ‘No! Be my friend because
you want to, not because your king has given an order.’

I looked at
him, a hopelessly enchanting vision of masculine beauty. ‘Why?’

‘
We have
happened to one another,’ he said, and with those words invoked all
the confusion of the abyss into my staggering mind.

I had not
thought of my lover of the temple for weeks, but now the unsettling
images came back to me in chilling, glorious clarity.

The next few
days are fragmented in my memory now. I spent so much time in
Akaten’s company, Porfarryah began to complain. She asked me if I
was sleeping with him, and I answered that I was not, which was
true. Akaten made no overture towards me in that sense, and there
was no way I would make such a move myself. At night, I dreamed of
him, and sometimes the dreams were mildly erotic, but by the end of
the week, I had managed to convince myself once more that I had not
met Akaten in the temple.

Twice in that
week, I went to Alofel’s quarters at night. On the second occasion,
he quizzed me in more detail about my friendship with the Khan’s
boy. I confessed that we had now got to know one another, and that,
yes, I had warmed to Akaten. This remark thoroughly aroused the
king, who then subjected me to exquisite love-making. I could not
complain about that, although it amused me to imagine that as we
acted out our fantasies upon each other, we were both thinking of
our Mewtish visitor.

One night, I
lay upon my bed, drowsing in the hot, perfumed air. All my windows
were thrown open, and the cries of owls filled my room. Akaten and
I had been out riding that afternoon, even though the weather was
really too warm for the horses’ comfort. An armed guard had
accompanied us, for Alofel still did not trust Akaten not to try
and escape. I myself was unsure whether he’d take the opportunity
if it arose. As we’d dismounted from our steaming mounts in the
shadowed stable-yard, Akaten had stroked my hair. He had offered no
explanation for the caress and had walked away from me before I
could speak or respond. Afterwards, I considered that the gesture
had been too pre-meditated. I suspected he knew all about my
feelings for him and liked to pull my strings. He was never far
from my thoughts.

As I lay
there, idly stroking myself, a knock came at the door. Hastily, I
covered myself with a sheet. The hour was late. Who would come
knocking at this time of the night? I suppose I knew even then who
it was. ‘Come in,’ I said, and Akaten opened the door. I was unable
to speak, although the question, ‘what are you doing here?’ churned
round my mind.

‘
Are you
tired?’ he asked me, venturing into the moonlight that streamed
through my window.

‘
Why?’

He shrugged.
‘I want to walk in the garden, and as you are my official friend, I
thought I’d call for you on the way.’

‘
It is
very late,’ I said.

‘
And the
night is beautiful. Come on. Don’t be tiresome. Why lie here awake
when the moon calls us?’

‘
Wait
outside the door,’ I said. ‘I must dress.’

He raised one
eyebrow, but complied with my words.

As we padded
silently through the darkened halls of the palace, I wondered how
Akaten had escaped his vigilant attendants. His position in the
household was still tenuous. Technically, he was an enemy captive,
who should not be allowed to wander around unsupervised.

We roamed
across the lawns, beneath the spreading branches of the trees.
Peacocks drowsed on the grass, their folded tails trailing in the
early dew. Akaten went to one of the trees and leaned back against
it, gazing up through the sighing branches. So far, we had spoken
little.

‘
So,
tell me, how did you escape?’ I asked him.

He put his
head on side to look at me. ‘Easily. I climbed the vines on the
terrace wall up to the roof.’

I could not
help laughing. ‘A precarious climb! You were lucky you weren’t
killed!’

He smiled.
‘No, Darien, that wouldn’t have happened. Tonight, there is magic
in the air.’

My laugh
turned into a sneer. ‘Is there?’

He shook his
head and looked at me. ‘You are so unimaginative.’

‘
Hardly,’ I answered dryly. If only he knew!

‘
You’re
never anything but formal. It diminishes your attractions.’ He
didn’t wait for me to respond to that, but began to walk around the
tree, touching it with one hand. ‘It must be the way you’ve been
trained, or brain-washed. It’s such a waste. I like to imagine you
with tangled hair and dirt on your face. Then you would be more
real.’

Indignation
hardened my heart. ‘I am very real, Akaten. More so than you can
imagine.’

‘
No, you
are a dream.’

I thought he
seemed intoxicated as if he’d been drinking or smoking hemp. The
conversation itself had taken on a dream-like quality. He seemed
fragile and fey. Perhaps they had increased his dose of herbals
again. Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed hold of his arm,
stopped him circuiting the tree. He leaned his side against me, his
head hanging forward. ‘What do you want of me?’ I hissed. ‘What is
this game?’

‘
The
game of life,’ he answered. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘
Look at
me!’ I said.

He did so,
blinking. I wanted to hit him, to kiss him.