Every Good Thing

EVERY GOOD THING M. JULES AEDIN

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EVERY GOOD THING M. JULES AEDIN

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright 2009 by M. Jules Aedin All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Published by MLR Press, LLC 3052 Gaines Waterport Rd. Albion, NY 14411 Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet: www.mlrpress.com Cover Art by Deana C. Jamroz Editing by Kris Jacen Printed in the United States of America. ISBN# 978-1-60820-087-0 Issued 2009

And in that day shall come to the faithful the Deliverer, clothed in the justice of Xea, wielding the vengeance of Ayh. The oppressed and the enslaved will be vindicated and the Deliverer will visit upon them every good thing. The magic of old will live again and the world will see and know that there is power in Riinea. Vatan of Riinea, Book Ten, Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER ONE The sun beat down on the dusty city square, drawing up beads of sweat on the flesh of the men and women shifting uncomfortably in their chains. They were waiting to be slicked with the golden oil that would make their skin gleam attractively, showing more clearly the contours of their bodies and muscles as they were paraded before the crowd. Arieh Sef’ea, chains heavy around his wrists and ankles, burned with more than the afternoon heat. Hatred, anger, embarrassment and terror squirmed in his belly, making him glad he hadn’t had the appetite for the meager breakfast the slavers had provided that morning. He had offered his portion to the slave beside him, a quiet girl from the western desert province of E’ea who did nothing but cry softly from morning to night, but the blue eyed barbarian across from her had stolen it instead. The girl hadn’t seemed to notice. The slave caravan had been large enough before Arieh was added to it, and in the three days he’d been traveling with them, they had picked up several more slaves about his age, some younger and several older. There were a few exotic, light skinned girls who had joined them at the last stop. Arieh had understood enough of the slavers’ rough tongue to know they were prisoners from the war in Agul to the north, captured by soldiers and sold to the caravans after a thorough sampling. Others, like himself, were native sons and daughters taken as payment for exorbitant taxes their parents couldn’t afford. Arieh’s sister Rahel, pretty and newly betrothed, had nearly been one of those payments herself. As the soldiers were dragging her away, Arieh had come tearing around the corner of the house, alarmed by the sounds of shouting and pleading. He had been instantly spotted by the soldiers who traveled with the tax collectors as guards. Arieh had skidded to a stop as their kentari, the highest ranking soldier among them, caught sight of

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him. Cold grey eyes locked onto his face with a calculating light. “Leave the girl,” the kentari had said and jabbed a rough finger in Arieh’s direction. “Abheel-takhan likes this type.” The man had lumbered up to him and squeezed Arieh’s jaw in his calloused hand, tilting his face up and turning it side to side, studying him. It had been all Arieh could do to keep from hitting the man; survival instincts were the only thing holding him back. “Young, pretty, smooth as a girl. He’ll be worth more to us.” “No!” Sefar, Arieh’s father, had lunged forward, wailing. “He’s my son! You can’t take my son!” “Silence, old man.” The kentari had knocked Sefar backwards with the hand that was not holding Arieh’s face. Arieh had trembled again with the effort of restraining his rage. “You have other sons.” Arieh had tried hard not to think about Simen and Dan, neither older than ten years, hiding in the house. “This one is ours.” The last Arieh had seen of his home was his mother, shocked and weeping, his father tearing his rough-cloth tunic in mourning, and his sister Rahel looking horribly, guiltily relieved. Arieh sighed and told himself not to think about it. It was useless. He’d been thinking about it all day, and all his energy was being eaten up by anger. The tallest of the blonde Agullic girls, standing a few feet away from him with the other women who were to be sold, said something to him in her soft native tongue, looking concerned. “I’m sorry,” Arieh stammered in Keshen, the common language of the melting pot of cultures that made up the country of Keshe. “I don’t understand.” She frowned and he thought that would be the end of things—she probably knew as much of his language as he did of hers. He had already looked away from her when she said haltingly, “You? Okay?” Arieh blinked, both in surprise at her use of Keshen and in astonishment at the question. I was supposed to be emancipated from

EVERY GOOD THING 3 my parents and apprenticed to a carpenter this year, but instead I was sold into slavery in place of my younger sister. Sure, I’m just fine, thanks for asking. But she looked so earnest and worried that he just nodded his head and said, “Yes. I’m okay.” His bitterness wasn’t directed at her. In truth, he was as far from okay as he could imagine. They had painted his eyes like a desert E’ean, oiled his hair until it gleamed ebony in the sunlight, stripped him of the tunic he’d been wearing when they took him, painted his body a gleaming bronze, then shoved him, naked, in a group of other young men similarly painted. All the men and boys standing near him that he could see were handsome, and several pretty, painted girls stood a little distance away. The other slaves, unpainted and plain, were in a different group. Arieh wondered that they would separate slaves by looks. It seemed impractical. But then, what did he know? Riineans didn’t keep slaves. None of them could afford it. Just then, there was a commotion some distance in front of him and Arieh looked up, eyes darting nervously around the throng until he caught sight of the slavers walking down the line, evaluating each slave. When they paused in front of him, the desire to kick at their shins or spit in their faces swelled in him, but his mouth was dry as the dusty ground his feet seemed bound to. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wished he could cause their deaths just by his thoughts and longed for the power the heroes of old were said to have. If magic had not deserted Riinea, they would never have been beaten by the Keshen army. Arieh’s family would not be poor farmers and Arieh would not be a slave. If. The traders spoke to each other in their own language, a harsh tongue made up of biting, hissing sounds and rolling syllables. Arieh understood very little of it, but he knew they were arguing about him. Suddenly, as quickly as a desert wind changing direction, they began shouting at each other in Keshen and Arieh flinched in surprise.

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“Do you not always keep your most precious treasures in the innermost chamber of your house?” one of them exclaimed, waving his arms about. “He should be sold last, as a prize jewel!” Abheel-takhar, an old man with a coarse, pointy silver beard and kohl-lined eyes who seemed to be the head of the caravan, put up a many-ringed hand to silence him. “Do you serve your best wine at a feast after the guests are already drunk and tasteless?” Abheel-takhar countered in a deeply accented voice. “No, you bring out the best dishes while they are still greedy with hunger, not when they are full and slovenly and will make a waste of it.” His hand hovered above Arieh’s head, not touching but close enough that Arieh thought he could feel the weight of all the rings the man wore pressing down into his hair. “He will go on early, while our guests are still hungry and will pay the price he is worth... or more.” Arieh could hear murmurs nearby and noticed that many in the crowd were looking over to where the traders were, their attention drawn by the commotion. He realized then that it had all been a ploy; Abheel-takhar was advertising his wares before the bidding began and Arieh was the one on display.

CHAPTER TWO The cacophony of the Dega slave market was overwhelming. Men strove to outbid one another and traders worked to drive up the prices on their best slaves. Kentari Enitan Viden exhaled noisily as he stood at the edge of the crowd, watching closely as the buyers jostled each other. He and his men were there to keep the peace, to be certain rival traders and bidders did not get out of hand in their competition, or that bereaved family members did not attempt a desperate act to recover a stolen child, parent, spouse or sibling. It was a dangerous enough job but ultimately tedious. The sun was unbearable and it wasn’t the first time he thought he might bake to death inside his steel chestplate. The leather and metal of his armor jingled against his muscular arms and legs as he shifted his weight yet again, eyes roving the crowds. The thick leather trousers he wore were dark with the sweat he could feel trickling down his legs and beading on his ankles inside his boots. Several of his men paced around the edges of the crowd or stalked through it on his orders, shoving bidders aside when there was no path between the tightly packed bodies. Enitan could smell the stink of the crowd, the pungent odor of unwashed bodies like soured spices, and the sickly sweet oils and perfumes that were poured over the slaves and rubbed into their skin. Dust clung to the air as he breathed it in. Dust and sweat and heat; it all collected in his lungs and made him wish more than anything that he were home in his cool marble bath, a servant pouring clear, sweet water over his hot, tired, dirty feet. Already he longed to be anywhere else and the auction was just beginning. This was nothing like the campaigns he’d fought in the western desert or the exotic east, and yet very like them. This was what those might have been like without the adrenaline, without the thrill of the fight.

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Predictably, the slavers brought up the foreigners first, captured from all parts of Ilya. The exotic complexions and features of the northern captives often brought a high price and one after another bids were placed on fair-skinned men and women. Enitan barely paid any attention to most of them aside from a sort of detached curiosity at how pink the northerners’ flesh had become in the heat. He knew the discomfort of his own suffering, even with his skin baked golden brown from years in this sunny climate; theirs had to be excruciating. His campaigns had never taken him northward, but he’d heard from others how cold it was, so cold that everyone dressed in animal skins, heavy with fur, to keep warm. This had to be torture for them. The captured warriors had already been sold to the Circule as fighters; all that was left of the Ilyan captives were the weak, the young, and the women. The first were of no use to him, the last were of no interest. Of the young, many of them were yet too young; many others were so broken in spirit as to be utterly unappealing. Not that he was looking for any slaves for himself. He had a household full of them. Of course, as Junia had reminded him so poignantly when she had come to wake him that morning, he had not yet discovered her replacement. Junia, whose native name confounded his tongue every time he tried to speak it, was herself a fair-skinned northerner with rich red hair. She had been captured in the wild Moran Highlands and bought for him at a similar auction by a well meaning family member who intended her as his bedslave. She was ill suited for the task but, as he assured her the night she was brought to him, so was he. Her spirit was unable to submit her body to him; his body was unwilling to attempt it. Still, he liked her enough that she had become one of the few slaves he trusted to enter his bedchambers for any cause. He trusted her. Those with an opinion often said he spoiled her. “Find yourself a pais at the market today, master,” she had suggested that morning with an impish smile, showing off her impressive mastery of his language. “Your bed has been empty far too long. It isn’t good for you.”

EVERY GOOD THING 7 A pais, Enitan thought with a huff, eyeing the young man being auctioned. His yellow hair was long and shone like threshed barley in the sunlight, oil gleaming in it like liquid gold. Attractive enough, but a pais was a much more intimate companion than a temple prostitute chosen to receive his worship to the goddess Isara, or even a common boy hired off the street for an hour or a fortnight. Enitan had little use for the latter anymore and little more than religious obligation to the former. How can I choose a partner for my bed, for my home and my rest, from something like this? He sighed, more than a little frustrated. Junia would just have to be disappointed. After all, he was here for duty and nothing else. Even if he did find someone, which was unlikely, he wouldn’t be allowed to bid. He twitched, tired of being in one spot, hot and cranky and miserable. The alternative—pushing into that mob of sweaty bodies—was worse, though, and in the end he settled for shifting from one foot to the other. He almost wished someone would start a fight—it wouldn’t take much: a dispute over a bid, a little bit of name-calling—so he would have something to do. He longed for the diversion of war, even a small one. There was a fair sized pebble by his foot, he could kick it into someone’s ankle and blame it on the person next to him... “Sir!” Enitan jerked upright, guilt flashing through him like a naughty boy caught playing when he should be at his chores, but he schooled his features into a stern expression. “Chare,” he said gruffly, acknowledging his approaching officer. “There is a dispute in the caravans. Sakhim the Anaci insists Abheel-takhar has stolen one of his slaves and entered her into his own registry for selling.” Inwardly, Enitan perked up even while his brows lowered threateningly. “Is anyone dealing with them?” “Yes, sir. Kayin is there, but Abheel-takhar insists he will only speak with you.”

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Enitan heaved a very real sigh. While he was grateful for the distraction, Abheel-takhar was a hard man to deal with and his insistence on speaking with Enitan made it apparent that the old slaver expected a favor from him. Enitan had purchased many of his household from Abheel-takhar’s caravan; the man had an eye for pretty flesh and hard workers, even if he did have an exaggerated opinion of himself. “Go on ahead and keep them calm until I am there,” Enitan grumbled, and Chare bounded to follow the command. A nearby bidder yelped in pain when a pebble bounced off the end of Enitan’s boot at just the right angle, as the fates would have it. Enitan pretended not to hear.

[\ Arieh watched, alarmed, as the Keshen soldiers warned the traders away from each other with the blunt, wooden ends of their spears. This was no ploy to advertise merchandise, this was a real argument. A large Anaci man, the black eyes that were distinctive to his race glittering with anger, had come storming up to Abheel-takhar as the silver haired slaver was finishing his inspections. Their shouting was garbled, overlapping each other, and the flush on Abheel-takhar’s brown, leathery face was real when he called the Anaci slaver all manner of names that Arieh had never heard before. Just when he thought the two slavers were becoming too much for the soldiers to restrain, the crowd parted with a murmur and a kentari stepped through, his rank made obvious by the distinctive helmet and silvered armor he wore. The kentari stepped between the traders and barked at both of them to hold their damned tongues before he cut them out. Arieh wasn’t sure how much of that was a bluff; people said the soldiers did horrible things and could get away with them, but neither of the slavers seemed overly concerned. In fact, Abheel-takhar smiled in a most ingratiating manner and sidled up to the kentari. “Surely you know me well enough to know I would never steal someone else’s wares,” the old slaver declared haughtily.

EVERY GOOD THING 9 “I only sell that which I have inspected myself and have purchased honorably from those who bring them to me.” The Anaci trader started to say something but the kentari held up his hand. “And what if those who brought you this girl stole her from the honorable Sakhim’s caravan?” Abheel-takhar shrugged and the kentari added, “And what if you knew they had stolen her? Perhaps you even sent them.” “You know me much better than that, old friend,” Abheel­ takhar insisted. “You know that I sell women only because they are profitable, not because any of them catch my eye—certainly, no woman has ever tempted me to steal her. You know I speak the truth.” The kentari looked rather unimpressed with this display of familiarity, but even though Arieh could see irritation and a rising temper in the man’s face, there was no sign of the cruelty he’d come to expect from the Keshen soldiers. Cruel men had a certain look to them, he thought, and though this one was brash and far from pleasant, he didn’t seem malicious. He hadn’t so much as raised his hand against either of the slavers. Arieh remembered the kentari who had taken him from his father’s home, cruel eyes unyielding, cruel hands hard against his face and his father’s. “Now if the slave had been, say, this boy here,” Unexpectedly, Abheel-takhar’s hand shot out and clasped Arieh’s chin painfully, tilting his head up and baring his neck. Arieh felt beads of sweat slide down his throat, under the iron collar and down his sternum. The slaver held his head at such an angle that he could no longer see the kentari and pain began lancing through his neck and back in protest. “Then I would admit, though with great shame, that I might have been tempted to befoul my flawless honor as an honest slaver. He is the kind of prize who would tempt a man to sin... or worship.” “Do not think you can distract me, old man,” the kentari growled. “I am here to settle your dispute, not to buy your wares.”

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Making a clucking sound, Abheel-takhar let go of Arieh with a flair of disgust, his fingernails scratching across Arieh’s skin. Arieh couldn’t quite stifle his sharp inhalation at the pain and he blinked as sweat and oil dripped into his eyes from the ends of his hair. When he managed to clear his eyes again, he opened them to see the kentari staring at him, steel blue eyes fixed on his face with a frightening intensity. Arieh returned the stare, feeling suddenly as if he was locked in combat with the man, struggling hand to hand as he and his friends used to do to test their strength. After what seemed a small eternity, the kentari turned, facing the female slave who was the subject of the dispute. Arieh took a deep, trembling breath as he was released from the kentari’s attention and the rush of challenge banked in his veins with nowhere to go. He wished for a sword, saw himself in a flash, his hands on the hilt stained with the blood of his enemies, and averted his eyes, not wishing to earn the sting of the lash or the back of a slaver’s hand. He’d been raised on tales of heroes with great strength and magicians with amazing power that made Riinea a powerful nation. There had been neither heroes nor magicians in Riinea for generations, so long ago that the stories were more like myths, and Arieh didn’t think he was likely to become either. Arieh barely heard the argument being settled, the men’s voices reduced to buzzing in his ears along with the noises of the auction and the peculiar sound the heat made as it rose off the dusty road. He shook himself, remembering that he hadn’t eaten all day and concerned about the way the world suddenly seemed to list to the right whenever he turned his head. No, songs would not be written of his feats anytime soon. “...no slaver’s mark, no visible sign of ownership other than Abheel-takhar’s henna on her hand. If she was yours, you should have taken more care to mark her.” The kentari’s words filtered in through the haze in Arieh’s mind and he looked up just in time to see the Anaci trader stalk off, throwing curses over his shoulder at the kentari, the kentari’s parents, and all his sons and grandsons for centuries to come.

EVERY GOOD THING 11 “I thank you, my friend,” Abheel-takhar said with a low bow, and the kentari grunted. “You can thank me with something more substantial than words. I have just saved not only the profit you will make from selling her, but also your reputation as a trader. I might have even saved you from a night in the stocks. I believe I deserve something tangible for a favor like this.” Abheel-takhar’s sunny expression darkened but it was gone in a moment, like the shadow of a cloud on a hillside. “My friend, I am but a humble trader. What could I possibly have that would interest a man of your—” “Him.” The kentari pointed and Arieh glanced behind himself to see who the man could be indicating before he realized that the finger was pointing at him and him alone. “My friend, you ask too much. I am counting on the price he will bring—” “I’m not asking you to give him to me,” the kentari snarled. “I will pay you a fair price, but you will not send him to the auction.” A gleam entered Abheel-takhar’s eyes and Arieh swallowed thickly. Would he really be sold to this Keshen soldier? Just like that? Arieh had entertained some ill-fated fantasy that his father would come to the auction and buy him back, but he knew that was only a dream. His father couldn’t afford to pay the taxes on their property and crops; there was no way he could pay the fees to buy a slave, even if that slave was his own son. Failing that, he had thought he could fight his way free, never mind the lightness in his head and the sickness in his stomach. Still, Arieh could not imagine a worse fate than being sold into the hands of a Keshen soldier—and a kentari at that. He had seen a kentari punish a man in the marketplace once when he was very young; the man had bent over in agony from a blow to the stomach and the kentari’s stiivi had come down hard on the man’s back, splintering with the force of the blow, shards of wood shattering everywhere and driving into the man’s flesh. Arieh’s mother had turned her son’s face away

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from the scene then and Arieh hadn’t seen any more, but what he had seen was enough. While Arieh was thinking of all these things, Abheel-takhar had named his price—well above the highest estimate of what Arieh would have brought in the auction. “Don’t be stupid,” the kentari sneered. “He is worth barely half that, even without the favor I have just done you.” The kentari glanced at him and Arieh flinched. Something flashed through the man’s eyes that looked like hurt and Arieh felt his stomach twist. Despite the fact that he had consumed nothing but a little honeyed water all day, Arieh thought he might really begin retching in a moment. The anger and hatred that had been tormenting his belly earlier were still there, but it was terror that Arieh could feel rising with the bile in his throat. Abheel-takhar frowned but lowered his asking price by less than a quarter. Arieh swallowed and closed his eyes, tilting his head forward to shade his face from the sun. This was going to take a while; no one ever purchased anything in the market without haggling first. He had learned that by watching his mother and sister wheedle the vendors down time and time again until they could actually afford to feed their entire family. “Done.” The kentari’s word echoed in Arieh’s mind but didn’t sink in for long moments. When it did, he looked up to see Abheel­ takhar looking pale and stunned, staring at the Keshen’s face. The kentari, however, was staring holes through Arieh. “H-he is yours,” Abheel-takhar said, more subdued than Arieh had heard in the entirety of the time he had been with the caravan. The man who had participated in the earlier fake argument stepped forward and unlinked Arieh’s collar from the chain holding the rest of the slaves. He threaded a new chain through it and held the end out toward the kentari. Arieh thought he saw the kentari’s expression falter for just a moment, but then he waved to one of the soldiers standing nearby and Arieh thought he must have imagined it.

EVERY GOOD THING 13 “Kayin,” the kentari said in a low voice. “Deliver this boy to my house. Give his chain and his keys to Junia and only her. No one else is to touch him. She will know what to do.” The soldier took the end of the chain from the younger slaver and held out his hands for the keys that would unlock the chains around Arieh’s wrists and ankles. “Yes, sir.” “And Kayin.” The kentari stepped closer to the man, eyes narrowed, and Arieh could feel the heat of the sun bouncing off the kentari’s armor, even hotter than it was beating down on his skin. “If anything should happen to him, I will consider it a failure of your mission and of your post and will mete out a punishment appropriate to such.” Kayin nodded seriously and began walking, keeping Arieh a couple of steps ahead of him. Stunned, Arieh stumbled at first but went along without much of a fight. Everything had happened too quickly and now he was in the hands of a Keshen soldier, being delivered to a kentari’s house. Wide eyed, he twisted to look over his shoulder at the kentari as he walked, wondering what kind of man had bought him... and why.

CHAPTER THREE Cerchnionh, daughter of Hedhe, the priest of Agidda, had been captured after the slaughter of most of her tribe, dragged across Ilya and sold to a Keshen consulate to act as a bedslave for his nephew, a kentari. On the first night in her new master’s house, she had been dressed in strange and revealing satin garments and bound to a lavish bed, tied hand and foot so that she could not escape. She had fought her bindings until her sweat had made dark places on the satin she wore and her wrists chafed and bled. When her new master entered the room, she strained against the ropes and snarled at him, baring her teeth in a feral, wordless warning. What she remembered most clearly about that night was the way the man had stopped cold the minute he stepped inside the room and then bellowed over his shoulder, presumably summoning someone. From his gesturing when a servant had come running, she guessed he was demanding an explanation. In short order, he had cut her loose and apologized. She didn’t know the words then, but she knew the tone. Later, when she began to understand him better, she realized he had renamed her after his own gods and that he did not desire to use her as a bedslave. Since then Junia, as he called her, had come to expect that her master would not act in predictable ways, but when she opened the door one afternoon, she could not have been more surprised if she opened it to find Enitan standing on the doorstep dressed in a woman’s tunic with flowers draped about his head. In fact, considering that she had already discovered him in such an embarrassingly drunken state after one rather infamous visit to the Temple of Isara during the spring feast days last year, she would have been considerably less surprised at that spectacle than she was by what she found. Kayin Ulfram, her master’s second in command, stood at the door holding a

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chain that was attached to the collar of a young, handsome slave. “He said you would know what to do with him.” Junia blinked and tried desperately to get the world to make sense again. “The master... bought... him?” she guessed, looking over the boy twice, three times. He was stunning; firm bodied and slender, tall for the age his features suggested, with beautiful black hair and soulful brown eyes. He was also naked, having obviously just been brought from the slave market. Kayin looked embarrassed and shrugged. “It seems so,” he said, his eyes flickering over her face and form. She tried hard not to roll her eyes. Kayin was newly married to a woman with important family connections, but he always looked at Junia like she was a pig roasting over a fire and he was a dog desperate for drippings. “He said no one but you is to touch the boy.” Suddenly the pieces fell into place and she almost smiled. Just that morning, hadn’t she sent the master off with advice to buy a pais? And look what he’d sent home. “He was right, I do know what to do with him.” She held out her hand for the boy’s chain and keys, which Kayin handed over. Kayin looked as if he were seeking an excuse to delay, and Junia smiled sweetly at him. “I would offer you refreshments as thanks for doing my master’s bidding, but I suspect he asked you to return immediately, yes?” “Well,” Kayin hedged and she had to fight to keep her pleasant smile in place. “Best not to cross the master,” she advised. “Let him know I will have everything ready for him when he returns.” Kayin left reluctantly and Junia closed the door with a huff. “I thought he’d never leave,” she muttered, and the boy looked up with a startled expression. Good, she thought at the bright spark of uncertainty in his eyes. He hasn’t been a slave long enough to break his spirit. She took special care to give him her warmest, most assuring smile, and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Let’s find

EVERY GOOD THING 17 you some clothes,” she suggested. “But maybe a bath first, hm?” He looked startled at the idea, defensive, but he made no move to resist her. She was glad of it. She wasn’t lacking in strength, but he had firm muscles under his suntanned skin and a few inches in height on her. She smiled again and herded him toward the baths, hand firm on his shoulder to let him know that escaping was not an option. It would go better if he believed she had the upper hand from the beginning. Enitan wouldn’t like all the oil and bronzing on the boy’s skin and hair, and most of all he wouldn’t want the scent of slavers’ perfumes clinging to him. She knew there was no hope of Abheel-takhar’s henna mark fading from the boy’s hand for several days, but that wouldn’t be a problem. Mostly, she just needed to get the young man clean, to wash the scent of slavery from him. Enitan had been in need of a pais for a long time and had been confronted with plenty of opportunities to buy one, but he had never done so. The fact that he had purchased this boy, and on a day when he was attending to his duties no less, was significant. He had chosen a lover for himself and given Junia the responsibility of preparing the young man. She thought about calling some of the servants to bathe him but remembered that Kayin had said Enitan wanted no one but Junia to touch him. After the boy climbed into the marble bath, she rolled up her sleeves and knelt beside him, cloth in hand. She ignored his affronted look, matter-of-factly wetting a cloth and swiping it across his skin. He flinched and reached for the cloth. “I can bathe myself,” he said, and she gave it over with amusement. He gave her a suspicious look when she simply settled back instead of leaving him. She hid a smile. If he thought he was going to escape that easily, he had another think coming. “What’s your name?” she asked as he dragged the wet cloth over his shoulders. “A...Arieh,” he stammered hoarsely. “Arieh Sef’ea.”

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“Then you are Riinean,” she said with some surprise, recognizing the ethnicity of his family name. The Riine were a small tribe who had resisted the rise of the Keshens to power. Even though they had largely been subjugated, at great cost to their already small numbers, they still clung to their own traditions and gods with stubborn tenacity. What was Enitan thinking, buying a Riine to be his pais? Surely he would know that Riineans hated the Keshens, that this boy was not likely to warm to him anytime soon. Foolish, foolish man, she thought. He is bewitched out of his very senses. “I would like for you to teach me your language sometime, if you would,” she said. He swirled the cloth into the water that was beginning to turn a dirty gold color with the paint that was sloughing from his skin. “I am from the land of the Moras, and I am trying to learn the many languages spoken here in Dega. I would like to know yours as well.” He still looked perplexed, but she kept silent, letting him puzzle it out. “A-are you a slave, then?” “Yes,” she answered. “I was taken from my father’s home and sold to the master’s uncle. He gave me to the master as a gift.” She chuckled to herself, remembering the chaos that had reigned in the household during the first few weeks after her arrival. “Oh.” Arieh fidgeted and Junia made a questioning noise. “I, um, I thought you were his wife.” Junia blinked. Did that mean the boy didn’t know why Enitan had bought him? No, no; here, even married men sometimes buy boys to warm their beds, she reminded herself. The thought of having to explain to this boy what her master wanted with him was not pleasant. “No,” she answered him. “I am only his servant. He does trust me with many important things, however. As you can see, he has even trusted me with you.”

EVERY GOOD THING 19 The boy looked confused but not embarrassed, and Junia felt her stomach sink. Arieh really didn’t know why Enitan had bought him. She went to the doorway, keeping an eye on him, and called to the servant she saw passing down the halls. “Demic!” The man turned and came toward her. He was Enitan’s personal slave, being responsible for the master’s uniform and baths and similar tasks. When he was close enough to hear, she said, “Please fetch me a tunic and trousers to fit a young man. About the master’s height, a bit more slender, but muscular.” Demic gave her a look that said he wanted to ask for details, but instead he went to do as he was told. When she returned to the bathside, Arieh was mostly clean and studying her curiously. “Um, excuse me, but... what is your name?” “Oh!” She had forgotten that, in the commotion, she had never introduced herself. For a moment she wanted to tell him her Moran name, the name her father had called her all those years, the name of the girl who would have been the next priestess of Agidda. Instead, she smiled and said, “You may call me Junia.” It was best that he learn to leave the past behind.

[\ Enitan stalked through the streets toward the stables, eager to reclaim his horse and ride home. The strength of his stride and the scowl on his face sent people scurrying out of his way, to his grim satisfaction. The slave market had lasted much longer than his patience had; he had been preoccupied all afternoon. His mind had been at home with the new slave. What the hell was I thinking? he wondered more than once, though he knew he hadn’t been thinking at all, not since he saw that face, the sweet curve of the boy’s lower lip, the way his hair curled down into his eyes. I have lost my mind. He had been as friendly as a bear woken early from hibernation until Kayin had returned to assure him that the boy had been left safely in Junia’s care, at which point he had quieted somewhat, knowing that his most trusted slave would take good care of the boy. She had been serving in his

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household for nearly eight years now and he held more faith in her than in half his soldiers. Despite her initial fury at being made a slave, she had only attempted to escape once, a little over a year after she had come into his house. She had spent that year wisely, saving up whatever money she could, learning the language, developing contacts. Had it not been for one of his infrequent bouts with insomnia, she might have made good on her escape. He had been feeling particularly lonely that night, having been lacking in companionship for many months. Enitan wasn’t someone who needed constant attention, but he liked having someone beside him while he slept, liked having a warm body to spill himself into. It was a recent development that his need for physical intimacy had begun to transform into a desire for emotional camaraderie as well. The hired boys and the temple prostitutes were no longer enough for him. He had left one such young man asleep in his bed that night and gotten up to wander the halls, something in his chest restless and unhappy. The boy’s body had been sweet enough, pliant and skillful, but though he was sated, he was not satisfied and sleep would not come. Junia had looked so shocked in that moment, a flash of panic visible in her eyes in the low-burning torches of the hall when she stealthily crept around a corner and nearly ran straight into her master. In his mental state, it had taken him a moment to realize what she was doing. Even at the time he didn’t understand his reaction; in retrospect it seemed utterly ridiculous that instead of hitting her, punishing her, or even ordering her to execution, he had simply thrown back his head and laughed. Ever the opportunist, she had tried to turn and dash the other way, but he had grabbed her arm before she could get very far. Some part of him admired her even more for that second, desperate attempt. “I was beginning to wonder how long it was going to take you,” he had confessed as she struggled against his hand, her sixteen-year-old face flushed nearly as bright as her hair. “However, as impressive as your cunning may be, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

EVERY GOOD THING 21 It was something he had never done before or since, but Enitan had been lonely that night and had needed someone to talk to more than anything. He had dragged Junia, still digging in her heels and protesting, into the gardens and had pulled her down onto a stone bench beside him. He had kept a tight hold on her arm for the first half hour as he talked, knowing that she would flee again at the first opportunity. He would have been disappointed if she’d given up easily, after all. After an hour or so, she began to relax and answer his questions, though he still didn’t let his guard down, keeping his fingers loosely circling her wrist. When she started asking questions of her own in broken Keshen, he let go of her and watched carefully to see if she would lurch to her feet and run. It wouldn’t do her much good, there were guards at the gates of the garden and she probably knew that. She had sighed once, sounding resigned and depressed, and he had recognized that sound. He made it often enough himself. Some days, he thought he might feel as much a captive as she did. He had grimaced sympathetically at her and crossed his arms, putting his hands far enough away from her that she could make a run for it if she tried hard enough. She didn’t move. “I can’t let you go,” he said, repeating his earlier statement. “It’s not that I particularly need you as a slave. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I have no use for a woman in my bed.” He had seen a soft color creep across her face in the moonlight, but she’d nodded. “However, supposing you did escape, and even supposing that by some miracle you made it all the way back to your homeland, is there anyone left alive in your family who could take you in? Is there any way to guarantee you would not be captured again and sold to someone else—perhaps someone with vicious appetites who would want you in his bed?” She had still looked defiant, her mouth set in a firm pout, but she hadn’t been able to argue with his reason. He remembered thinking she reminded him so much of his younger sister at the moment, fondness creeping out from under his exasperation with her. He missed Claudia some days,

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her bright eyes and willfulness. This Moran slave girl was not unlike her. “Stay with me and I promise I will treat you well,” he had told her. “If you show your worth, I might even make you my wife.” She had looked surprised and suspicious and he’d chuckled. “My father always said that every successful man needs a wise woman to run the matters of his house. It is my own choice whether or not I lift her skirts.” He wouldn’t say that things had been perfectly calm from that moment on, but she hadn’t ever tried to run away again, either; and by now, she did practically run his house while he was on duty. And, much like his sister might have done had she survived her illness, Junia took it upon herself to try to run his personal affairs, as well. Buy a pais, she had told him. He almost wished she hadn’t said it; the moment she saw the boy, she would know she had won and he hated to admit it. I didn’t buy him because she told me to, he assured himself. I bought him because I could not bear for someone else to have him. His heart had stopped when Abheel-takhar had pulled the young man forward out of the lineup and he had felt his body instantly surge with an entirely different heat than the scorching sunlight. He actually had no idea if the disputed slave girl had been stolen from Sakhim the Anaci or not, he had only known that Abheel-takhar was the owner of that boy and if he wanted the boy for himself, he had better be sure the trader was indebted to him first. The real proof that he had taken leave of his senses was when he had agreed to pay nearly twice what the boy would have brought in the auction. It was an inconvenient expenditure and one that would draw the criticism of the man who monitored such things for him, but he had seen the way the boy flinched when Enitan had declared that his worth was less than half Abheel-takhar’s asking price. Whether the boy had flinched because of the price or the simple knowledge of being sold, Enitan had realized instantly that haggling over the purchase could do long-term damage. He wanted the boy to know that Enitan considered him priceless.

EVERY GOOD THING 23 Enitan was neither a fool nor an optimist; he knew the boy was Riinean. He knew that, if he were ever to win the boy’s emotions, he would need as much leverage as he could possibly get. Strange as it was, and as likely as it would be to draw ridicule if his peers ever found out, Enitan craved more than the boy’s body. He wanted his heart as well. His nights were too long to be spent restless and unfulfilled. Occupied with such thoughts, he had crossed the distance between the slave market and his house in no time, his horse’s strides eating up the ground. He handed over the horse to Pol, the stable boy, and headed toward the house. He paused for a moment, removing his infernally hot helmet and taking a deep breath before he ascended the steps. He might have found his pais at last, but he had a feeling his trials were just beginning.

CHAPTER FOUR The echo of Junia’s footsteps faded down the corridor and Arieh sat stiffly, his hands clenched in the soft, smooth blankets on the bed. His eyes were fixed on the two lumps of his knees beneath the covers. The soft white cotton of the tunic he wore hung loosely over his shoulders and showed the deep color of his skin from working in his father’s fields with his sisters and brothers. The soft scent of the spikenard Junia had poured into his bath hovered faintly around him. It was an enticing scent, but it made his stomach roll. Spikenard was the scent of brides. Some of the slaves and slavers in the caravan had regaled him with tales of what his duties would entail once he was bought, but he had thought they were exaggerating in an attempt to frighten him. However, as Junia had dressed him and squeezed the water out of his hair with a towel, she had explained to him why his new master had bought him. He shivered, feeling his mind go distant, shying away from the thought. He was a boy, he could not be a bride. It was in the Law, in the Vatan of his god. I’ll be killed, he thought. The Vatan forbade sleeping with the male temple prostitutes and also took a rather dim view of practices like these. A man’s seed held the spark of all life, they were taught, and to intentionally waste it was to waste life. “There can be no fruit from a union of the sort that the faithless practice,” he remembered the priests teaching them. “It is the worst sin to waste a life. It is a mockery of Ayh, the Creator, and a denial of the fruitfulness of His consort, Xea.” What should I do? Arieh’s fingers clenched in the blankets until his knuckles turned almost as white as his tunic. For a brief moment he thought about tying something around his neck—anything would do; the blankets from the bed, the tunic he was wearing—and choking out his breath, but that would be wasting life, too, wouldn’t it? Oh, Ayh, what should I do?

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His family had never been one to keep all of the Law, but they had mostly tried to keep the major points. There were occasions when his father had violated the silence and stillness of the holy days when one of their beasts had fallen into a ravine and they had to lift him out, for example, and times when they lit a small candle on one of the dark days long enough to accomplish a task before hurriedly extinguishing it. But sneaking a bit of light on a day of decreed darkness was not the same as allowing a man—and a Keshen!—to use him as a lover, to turn him into a woman. He didn’t know how long he sat on the bed, frozen and trembling, but every moment that ticked by in silence seemed like an eternity. Finally, just when he had decided that it was all a bad dream, that no one would be coming to use his body for such things, he heard the measured tread of footsteps in the corridor. He stared at his lap, just listening. It was not Junia’s gentle step, nor the quiet walk of the other slaves he had heard going back and forth for a time. It was a stride with authority and he knew before the heavy door-covering opened that his reprieve was over. Don’t be scared, he told himself, dredging up every ounce of strength he had left as his eyes fixed on the sheets that covered his thighs. Don’t be afraid.

[\ Junia had caught him at the door, expressed her opinion of his sweaty, filthy state with a raised eyebrow, and mentioned helpfully that she’d had a couple of the other servants draw up a bath for him. Impatient as he was to lay eyes on his new boy and take his time looking at him as he hadn’t been able to before, he had to admit the wisdom in not storming into the room, dusty and smelling of slavers and sweat, in his metal and leather uniform. Grudgingly, Enitan had changed courses for the bath, stopping only to ask, “The boy? You are not with him. Where...?” She’d smiled softly and he’d guessed that his heart must be showing like a slaver’s mark on his arm.

EVERY GOOD THING 27 “He waits in your bed, master,” she assured him, and he felt his stomach drop into his boots. In my bed, he thought, freshly washed and rid of that stinking oil... clean and sweet. He reacted instantly to the image, dry swallowing in anticipation. He realized he had better use his bath time for more than just washing off the sweat of the day; he didn’t want to frighten the boy and, as it stood now, he was likely to lose control at the first glimpse of him. “Good,” he said hoarsely and stalked off to the bath without looking back, knowing instinctively that Junia was smirking at his back. The girl had no respect for his position as master of the house, he thought, but with more indulgent amusement than any real offense. His bath took too long and not long enough all at the same time, and afterward he dressed himself in a light, loose tunic that offered refuge against the heat in its cool, airy fabric. Demic, his personal slave, had subtly suggested using frankincense or myrrh in his bath, hinting that Junia had bathed the boy in heady spikenard. Enitan had almost refused, wanting to smell boy’s scent for himself, even tinged with nard, without having his own get in the way. On consideration, though, he thought that perhaps the boy would appreciate the gesture; that perhaps Enitan would not frighten him so badly if he smelled of expensive spices and not overwhelmingly of masculine flesh. Now, staring at the heavy, sound-dampening curtains that provided the door to his bedroom, he shifted up onto the balls of his feet and took a deep breath. For all his preoccupation with this moment, the anticipation driving him nearly to the brink of madness while he was at the market, he was now strangely reluctant. What if he entered the room to find the boy as Junia had been that night, wild with desperation and stinking of fear? What would he do? It had been easy to cut Junia free; he hadn’t felt any desire for her lithe young body, though any man of a different persuasion than he would have found it irresistible and more than a few would have probably found her display of defiance arousing. But Enitan didn’t want the boy to hate or fear him; he had bought a pais, not an ordinary bedslave. The

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boy was to be his lover; lovers weren’t forced, they were seduced. Junia wouldn’t have tied him, he reminded himself. Of all people, she would never... He smiled a little, calming. There had been many, many reasons why she was the only servant he was willing to entrust with the boy. Straightening his shoulders, he told himself to stop being a coward and reached out to part the curtain. The fabric made a muted, whispering noise as he pushed it aside, opening to reveal a simple but richly furnished room. Around the edges were chairs, settees, bookcases, a fireplace for the winter, a door that opened to a marble patio that stayed cool in the summer. In the center of the room, however, was the dominating piece that his eyes were drawn to. A huge bed draped with canopies and piled high with soft pillows rested against one wall, entirely too big for one man alone. Now, however, his attention was not on the bed itself but on the beautiful youth who sat in the center of it, his head bowed so that his curly black hair fell forward, teasing Enitan with mere glimpses of his lovely face. His heart skipped, stumbled, then beat in triple time, the pulse pounding in his ears. More gorgeous than I remembered, Enitan thought. Junia had dressed him in a simple white tunic, and while Enitan appreciated the effect, it also made him wish he’d paid closer attention earlier, when the boy had been naked. He stepped inside and let the curtain fall shut. It barely made any noise, but even the soft sound was loud in the room and the boy’s head jerked up, his eyes wide with the rage of a frightened animal. He’s terrified, Enitan thought, noticing the edge of desperation to the boy’s angry expression. Gods. He’s afraid of me. He’d known it might happen—had expected it, actually— but it hurt more than he had prepared himself for. He realized then that he had been naive and foolish, that some part of his heart had harbored a doomed hope that the boy would want him, invite him. Neither wars nor romances ever go as planned.

EVERY GOOD THING 29 “My name is Enitan,” he said as amiably as he could manage with his heart in his throat. “Will you tell me yours?” The boy watched him carefully, obviously considering the request so that when he spoke, Enitan was sure he’d done it because he’d decided to, not because Enitan had asked. It made him want to laugh. “Arieh Sef’ea,” the boy said slowly. “But my family calls me...” He stopped then, recognizing his near error, and shut his mouth with a snap. “What does your family call you?” Enitan prodded, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of having a familiar pet name to call the boy. “You’re not my family,” Arieh said bitterly and Enitan sighed, admitting defeat for the moment. It wouldn’t do to push him too far. Still, Arieh’s insolence taught him one thing: the boy hadn’t been raised a slave. More than likely he had been raised the free son of some tradesman, sold to the caravans to cover his parents’ debts or the taxes on their business. He must not have had any sisters, Enitan thought. Or perhaps he did and they took him anyway. He is certainly striking enough. He chose not to remind the boy that Enitan was now the only family he had. His other was lost to him, irretrievable. He wanted to touch the boy, ached to hold him, but he had the feeling that if he took just one more step into the room, Arieh was going bolt like a frightened horse. Stymied at the doorway to my own bedroom. The fates must be howling with laughter. Sensing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere else on the name, he tried a different tack. “How old are you, Arieh?” Arieh’s chin came up in a gesture of defiance. “I’m not a child.” Enitan’s eyebrow twitched up and he barely kept from laughing. Not a child, you say, he wanted to chuckle. And yet so very innocent. The defiance in the boy’s answer belied the words themselves.

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“I was going to be apprenticed this year,” Arieh continued, ire and bitterness getting the better of his recalcitrance. From the look in his eyes, it was clear the boy blamed Enitan for the failure of his plans. Either he was ignoring or he had forgotten that he had been a slave before Enitan bought him. The resentment was already wearing on Enitan’s patience. “I wasn’t the one who sold you into Abheel-takhar’s caravan, boy,” Enitan reminded him sharply, irritation flashing through him. “I’ll take all the blame you want for rescuing you from the other bloodthirsty men who were planning to squabble over you like dogs over a bitch in heat, but I didn’t sell you. You wouldn’t be an apprentice even if I hadn’t bought you.” Arieh flinched at his words, all the fire of resentment flickering out and leaving only the cold, black ashes of fear with a healthy dose of shame. Enitan sighed, frustration building as he watched the way Arieh shrank into himself, the gaze that had been flashing with indignation only moments before falling to his lap. Before he could give himself time to question the wisdom of the act, Enitan crossed the distance to the bed and reached out, one hand barely brushing over Arieh’s black curls. The boy’s hair was softer than he’d even imagined and the brief sensation sent a jolt through his arm to his chest just before Arieh jerked away, eyes wide and body taut as he looked up at Enitan. This close, Enitan could smell the spikenard clinging to him and could better see the smoothness of the boy’s brown skin, the depth of his eyes. The boy was trembling as Enitan sank his fingers into his hair, gripping the back of his head to keep him from escaping again. “You’re mine now,” Enitan told him, trying to keep his tone reassuring but knowing his greed came through anyway. To seal his words, Enitan hauled the boy close and kissed him, hunger only growing at the first taste of Arieh’s skin. A rush of adrenaline left him dizzy and he tried to deepen the kiss, only to yelp and jerk back to a safe distance when Arieh’s teeth sank viciously into his bottom lip. He tasted blood in his mouth as he raised his hand instinctively to strike, but stayed the motion when he saw

EVERY GOOD THING 31 Arieh’s face, a mask of terror and fury, golden skin gone ashy pale, with angry tears standing in his lashes and a smear of Enitan’s blood gleaming on his lip. It took a moment for Enitan’s own anger to clear from his mind, but when it did, he blinked and lowered his hand, a tangle of emotions galloping through him. I almost hit him, Enitan realized. It wasn’t out of his rights as a master, especially not in the face of such blatant rebellion, but it wasn’t what he wanted. If I hit him now, I would bruise more than his flesh. With a growl that was an angry mix of helplessness and frustration, Enitan whirled on his heel and stalked out of the bedroom without saying another word, flinging the curtain shut behind him.

[\ Junia heard the distinctive angry slap of her master’s indoor sandals against the floor tiles and thought it best to stay out of the way, at least for the moment. She tracked his progress by the sound of his footsteps, relieved when he went out the back door into the gardens instead of out the front door into the streets. Even without seeing him, she could guess that his frame of mind was not the best for visiting the temple or the common boys for hire, even if the reason for his temper might find some solace in them. She sighed to herself and thought she had best go see about the boy. She didn’t think Enitan would have hurt him, and especially not left him injured without telling anyone, but she knew how the master’s anger could blind him from time to time. She’d seen the effects of it first hand and had learned to tread softly around certain subjects. After a quiet knock on the wall beside the curtain produced no answer, she parted the fabric and peeked inside, relieved to see Arieh much where she had left him and not looking any worse for the wear from what she could see of him. He was sitting up in the bed, bowed over his own knees, and he was shaking, but his tunic was undisturbed and the bed looked as though he hadn’t been joined on it.

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“Arieh?” she called softly, coming into the room. His head jerked up like a startled deer and she felt sympathy lance through her. She expected to see tears but there were none, though his eyes were red-rimmed in a way that suggested he’d been trying to hold them back, and he looked torn between relief and resentment when he saw her. She let the curtain fall closed and came closer to him. “Are you all right?” Arieh nodded, giving her a halfhearted glare for her trouble, and that’s when she noticed the shimmer of red on his lip. Blood. “What did he do to you?” she asked, not sure she wanted the answer. Had Enitan hit the boy? She felt her stomach twist and hoped it wasn’t what it looked like. “H-he k-kissed me,” Arieh whispered, sounding horrified. “I, um... I kind of bit him.” Both of Junia’s eyebrows shot upwards and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold the boy. So that’s Enitan’s blood, then. “And?” she prodded. “Anything else?” Arieh shook his head soundlessly and Junia felt a small swell of pride for her master’s self-restraint. “You shouldn’t have bit him,” she sighed. “You’re his pais. He has the right to kiss you.” “He doesn’t!” Arieh protested, sounding younger than his age as his voice cracked. “Just because he—no, he doesn’t.” “I know it’s hard for you, but he does,” Junia said, her mind flickering back to her own short lived time as Enitan’s bedslave. I wonder how I would have reacted if he had actually been interested. “If he wanted to, he even has the right to force you to do your duty. It’s proof of how much he likes you that he didn’t.” “You don’t understand,” Arieh insisted, his voice on the edge of hysteria. “I’m Riinean. The Vatan says that if a man takes another man like a woman, they’re both to be stoned.” His hands fisted in the covers and she noticed how much of the whites of his eyes were showing. “I don’t want to die!” Junia blinked. “Your god cares so much for things like that?” she asked, bothered. Maybe Enitan had made a bigger mistake than she’d originally thought. One of them was going

EVERY GOOD THING 33 to have to give up something very important and she had a feeling the tears were just beginning. “He cares for many things,” Arieh answered, his voice small inside his mouth, and Junia thought she sensed the doubt in him. Sighing, she reached out and smoothed her hand over his hair, pausing when he jumped at the touch but continuing when he didn’t pull away. “It is good,” she said slowly, thoughtfully, “to be cared for.”

CHAPTER FIVE Enitan woke with a start, feeling eyes on him, and bolted upright in bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arieh flinch back from him and realized the boy had been awake already and that it was most likely his gaze that Enitan had felt. Irritation pricked at his skin and he closed his eyes, running an open palm over his face. A frightened pais was not what he wanted to see first thing in the morning. Hadn’t he slept chastely beside the boy through the entire night? Arieh had been uncomfortable with the arrangement but Enitan had refused to hear it. The bed was certainly big enough to allow both of them room to sleep comfortably without ever so much as brushing near the other. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Enitan sighed, keeping his hand over his face so he wouldn’t have to see Arieh’s expression. He didn’t think he could cope with seeing more fear on the boy’s face. “No, I know,” came the unexpected murmur and Enitan looked over in surprise. Arieh wasn’t watching him anymore, eyes fixed on his own hands, and Enitan noticed for the first time what long, elegantly boned fingers the boy had. His hands were rather large for the rest of his frame, though he already showed signs of being tall once he grew into himself. And only barely an adult. I wonder if he’ll end up being taller than I am. Enitan waited for Arieh to expand on his statement, but when no explanation was forthcoming, he prompted, “What makes you say that?” Arieh shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I just... I don’t think you’d hurt me.” Enitan’s heart pounded and he took a deep breath, telling himself he absolutely must not touch the boy, no matter how much that made him want to. “If you were going to, you would have done it by now.”

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His self control folded in on itself and Enitan dared to reach out, fingers brushing the boy’s bare shoulder. Arieh jerked away from him with a hunted look that belied his statement, sending his hopes crashing like an ocean wave. To keep himself from gripping harder and forcing the boy, he threw back the covers with a snarl. He couldn’t leave the bed fast enough. “...Sir?” Arieh’s tentative question stung in a place that was already tender. He dressed silently, not looking at Arieh as he fastened his leather trousers and buckled his heavy metal breastplate. He tied his stiivi to his belt, put on his boots and picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm. Only when he was securely in his armor did he look back at his pais. “My name,” he said evenly, coldly, “is Enitan.” He turned sharply on his heel and left the bedroom. He knew without being told that he was being a fool; if he’d wanted someone who didn’t need to be wooed, he could have paid exclusivity rights to some jaded hired boy. But he didn’t want that—he wanted someone to fall in love with him. Twenty-two steps away from the door, Enitan paused and looked back, wondering if he should go back, apologize, start over. Wouldn’t do any good now, he grumbled to himself. The gods favored him and he managed to avoid Junia entirely as he left the house; he knew she would give him an earful about his behavior and even if she didn’t, he would see it in her eyes anyway. The night before, he had stormed out of the bedroom, stung and bleeding, and spent several long hours in the garden, alternately cursing everything in his path and brooding silently about his situation. There was a cool, reasonable voice in his head that sounded a lot like his little sister Claudia and a bit like his servant Junia that told him he was going about things entirely backwards. Woo the boy, it told him. Mind your temper. Patience is the steed of love, slow though it may be.

EVERY GOOD THING 37 Enitan had gone back inside, cooled off and determined to heed the advice. He had spoken gently to the boy, explained that he would be sleeping in the bed and so would Arieh, but despite forcing the issue, went to great lengths give reassurance. “I won’t touch you,” he had promised his reluctant pais. “I swear by the gods I’ll not so much as breathe across your skin until you want me to.” The boy had turned an interesting shade of pink at the mere suggestion that he might ever want such a thing, but he had slept in the bed with Enitan, and Enitan had kept his word. And then you awoke and promptly lost your temper, that reasonable voice sighed. Patience is not a singular occasion; it is repeated—often tediously. By the time he reached the stables, the cloud of anger had cleared almost entirely and he was more of a mind to return to Arieh, explain himself as best he could and set things to right. Instead, he swung his leg across the back of his gelding and turned the horse’s reins toward the city market. As clear minded as he was away from the boy, he didn’t trust his self control when faced with Arieh and his unpredictable twists of fear and angry determination. Some time to himself might be good, and perhaps Arieh would take the opportunity to settle himself more comfortably into the house. Maybe then they could work on becoming settled with each other. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten dinner the night before and had stormed out before breakfast this morning. Touching his heels to the sides of his gelding, he promised himself that his first stop would be one of the food vendors.

[\ When Junia came into the room, there was a male servant behind her that Arieh didn’t know and he shrank back into the pillows on the bed, wishing the draperies and cushions would hide him from sight. The servant would know that Enitan had slept with Arieh the night before, would know that Arieh’s sole purpose for being in the household was to warm the master’s

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bed, and Arieh was ashamed. He knew the attitude that was taken toward natural eunuchs, as the priests called men who desired only other men. Eunuchs were not allowed to enter the assembly of Ayh, not even the outer courts of the temple. They were treated as unclean, as if they were human swine. And now I am being made to be a eunuch, Arieh thought. I am already unclean; I have shared food and a bed with the faithless. The male servant didn’t acknowledge Arieh, standing at the door with his hands clasped in front of him, his face a blank. He doesn’t even think I am worthy of his notice anymore. I am already dead—my father would tear his clothes in mourning. “Did you sleep well, Arieh?” Junia’s voice broke through the swirl of self-condemnation in Arieh’s mind and he looked up, surprised, having almost forgotten she was there. A kind smile curved her mouth and she brushed a hand over his hair. The touch felt odd—even his own mother had not been much given to showing affection after he reached a certain age—but comforting in its own right. Before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “I made him angry.” Junia blinked. “What happened?” “I...I don’t know! He slept beside me last night, and never touched me, and this morning I only spoke to him a little before he left, but something I said made him angry.” A tremor ran through him at the memory of the rage in Enitan’s eyes, the anger that had been so visible in the man’s naked, muscled body as he dressed himself and left. It had been frightening to see the power in Enitan’s physique—the man would be a terrifying enemy or a strong ally. He remembered Abheel-takhar, how the trader had made such an obvious attempt at currying Enitan’s favor in the dispute with Sakhim, and realized what a shrewd strategist the silver haired slaver was. I should learn from his example, Arieh thought, if I could only figure out how to stop making Enitan angry.

EVERY GOOD THING 39 Junia sighed. “The master... is not a patient man,” she cautioned. “He is... showing admirable restraint in not touching you before you are willing, but Arieh, please, for your own good... make yourself willing as soon as you can. He is a good man, I promise you.” Arieh thought of Enitan, thought of the kiss the man had given him the night before, and tried to imagine himself receiving it willingly. The thought sent a strange sensation through him, something like excitement, but fear and guilt followed close behind, drowning it before he had a chance to examine it too closely. It’s wrong, he thought, tormented. Then, softly, another voice whispered, You are already unclean. What is one more sin? What is a kiss? He shook his head, willing the strange thought to go away, and Junia sighed again. “Come along, little one,” she said fondly and Arieh had to fight the impulse to tell her he wasn’t so little. Her caring was something of a relief, even if he knew he was too old for it. No one showed him this level of concern in his family. “You should at least have breakfast. I can’t help it if the master is too stubborn to put his temper aside for a morning meal, but you at least will be well fed.” She pulled back the blankets and took Arieh by the hand, pulling him behind her. As they passed by the male servant, Arieh noticed a flicker of disgust in the man’s eyes and flinched. That is the price of a kiss, Arieh thought. I will be an outcast in the house of Ayh, in the house of my father, and even in this house of the faithless. I will have no home at all. If Junia noticed his sullen silence, she didn’t mention it.

[\ “What’s wrong, Demic?” There was laughter hidden in Kallias’s question and Demic glared at the Regic cook, to no effect. “You look as if you’d swallowed a spider.” Demic thought about ignoring the man—after all, Demic was Enitan’s personal servant, attending to many of the

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master’s more intimate needs such as his baths or clothing. Aside from Junia, whom Demic had reluctantly come to accept as being higher ranked than himself only after Enitan had reinforced the preposterous idea loudly and often, Demic was the closest slave to the master, the only other one allowed to enter the bedchamber without orders. Kallias was only a cook in the kitchen, a free-servant, meaning that Enitan paid him. Enitan owned Demic. But Kallias was a good man, kind and jovial, if a little over fond of his own opinion, and Demic knew that what was bothering him could not be discussed with any of the other household slaves, especially not Junia. “It’s the new brat the master brought in yesterday,” Demic admitted. “He bothers me.” “Oh, him!” Kallias grinned. “Saw him when they brought him in. I don’t share your master’s preference but even I have to admit the boy was as pretty as a girl.” The cook nodded to himself as he brushed sweat away from his brow with the back of his hand, the edge of a silver knife glittering in the light of the hearth fire. Kallias’s quick praise of the boy’s beauty rankled and Demic reconsidered the wisdom of discussing this with him. “Pretty, maybe, but spoiled,” Demic sniffed. “The master bought him to be a pais and the boy won’t so much as allow him to touch him! Acting as if he’s some privileged prince instead of the lowborn Riine bastard he is! He even bit the master. I saw the blood myself.” Kallias’s eyebrows shot up and Demic was duly satisfied with the Regic’s reaction until Kallias said incredulously, “The boy is Riinean? I swear, nobody tells me anything!” He threw down his knife, cursing when it bounced off the haunch of meat he was cutting and clattered to the counter. “Viden buys a Riinean pais and they tell me, ‘Roast a boar to celebrate!’ Idiots!” Demic blinked in surprise at the Regic’s sudden vitriol, trying not to let it get to him when the cook so casually called the master by his family name. “Is there something wrong with

EVERY GOOD THING 41 roasting a boar?” Demic asked, disdain twisting his mouth and his voice. “You’re as stupid as the rest of them,” Kallias huffed. “Riines don’t eat pork! They say it’s unclean, along with about a thousand other things. Not to mention this boar was sacrificed to your master’s gods. They don’t think too fondly of that, either.” Demic’s eyebrows drew together. “You seem to know an awful lot about the Riines, Regic.” Kallias shrugged. “My wife’s younger sister fell in love with a Riinean boy once. She learned all their laws and tried to become one of them.” There was a certain bitterness to the cook’s tone and Demic couldn’t help but ask. “What happened?” “They rejected her,” Kallias growled. “Said it was unclean to so much as eat a meal with a ‘faithless.’ That’s what they call anyone who isn’t Riinean. Didn’t matter that she showed them in their own holy writings where other races have been accepted into their ranks if they promised to follow the Riinean god and abandon all others.” Kallias picked up the blade and sliced angrily through the offending boar in front of him. “She bought essence of kal from an apothecary two days after the boy’s family told her they would never accept an unclean foreigner into their household and poisoned herself.” Demic was silent for long moments, staring at the silver knife carving hunks of bloody meat away from the bone. “You know,” he said slowly, “Perhaps the boar is the perfect dish for the celebration dinner after all?” Kallias stopped, confusion flashing across his face for a moment. It didn’t take long for Demic’s meaning to dawn on him, however, and he hesitated briefly before nodding. “Perhaps it is.”

[\ “A dinner? What kind of dinner?” Arieh’s voice crackled with nervousness and Junia smiled as she sluiced perfumed water through the hair at the nape of his neck. The boy had

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frozen like a startled deer when faced with the daunting task of allowing her to bathe him, but she had insisted that it was appropriate that she help ready him for the dinner. “It is a celebration feast in your honor,” she told him, cupping her hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the water as she rinsed his bangs. Arieh sputtered when rivulets of the scented water ran down into his mouth, palming the liquid away from his face and rubbing his eyes. “But why?” Junia laughed softly, slicking his wet hair back away from his face. “The master is welcoming you into his household.” She wondered if Arieh realized how unusual it was for a master to throw a party to celebrate the acquisition of a new slave. This should be enough to prove to the boy that he was no ordinary slave, if the honors bestowed on him so far did not. The master meant to place Arieh in a position of great honor in his house. “When...?” Arieh stopped talking and clamped his lips together tightly when Junia began massaging scented oil into his face with her fingertips. “The dinner will begin tomorrow night,” she told him. “The preparations, however, are beginning today.” She smiled brightly even though Arieh, with his eyes squeezed shut, couldn’t see. “It will be quite a feast.” “Does that mean we have to do this again?” Junia laughed. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” He grumbled something she couldn’t understand in his own language and she didn’t bother to hide her grin. Arieh remained strangely quiet for the rest of his bath. Afterwards, as she helped him into a comfortable summer tunic, she asked, “Is there anything you’d like to do this afternoon? The master has beautiful gardens to walk through, and there is also a small library where you could—” “The Vatan,” Arieh blurted, turning dark eyes full of distress on her. “Could I—would it be possible to get some Vatan scrolls?” She noticed the way his fingers twitched, as if he were

EVERY GOOD THING 43 trying not to clench his hands into fists. “There is something... I need to find.” Junia blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sudden request. She had no idea how difficult or easy it might be to acquire such scrolls, but Enitan’s power and money were at her command, especially when it came to taking care of Arieh. Enitan had made it clear to her that any expense he could afford for the boy’s pleasure was justified. She nodded slowly, the wheels in her mind already turning. “I’m sure we can come up with something,” she said slowly, trying to keep the concern from her face. Why did the boy need the holy writings of his religion, the words of the same god who would deny her master the enjoyment of Arieh’s love? Did he hope to find a prayer or a spell to release him from Enitan’s ownership? Junia frowned. Enitan was smitten with the boy, and years of his self-restraint had proven to Junia that Enitan’s feelings were not given on a mere whim. If Arieh left, her master would be crushed. Like a bear with a thorn in his paw, she winced to herself, thinking of how terrible things would become if Enitan was put into such a mood. Still, his command to her had been clear enough. “Anything the boy asks for, anything at all that is within my means, save only to release him from his position, you are to give him.” Should she allow him the scrolls? Could they really help Arieh escape her master’s house? Junia bit her lip. “All right,” she said finally, bending to tie the laces of Arieh’s sandals. “I will send someone to find these scrolls for you. In the meantime, would you like to see the gardens or the stables?” Junia noticed how the boy brightened at the mention of stables. “I guess so,” Arieh answered, trying to sound casual and almost succeeding. “Um, both.” Junia smiled and began walking toward the hallway that led to the gardens, motioning for Arieh to follow. While another servant was seeing whether the scrolls could be obtained, she would ask Arieh to tell her what sort of things the scrolls contained. If she saw that they held the secret key to some

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supernatural power, she could always tell the boy that they couldn’t be found.

CHAPTER SIX Enitan was clattering up to the stables, almost as sweaty as his lathered gelding, when he saw a flash of red and a shimmer of black and pulled up short. The two had heard his arrival, however, and turned to look at him. Junia smiled automatically; Arieh visibly struggled not to look away. Enitan felt his jaw clench with renewed frustration. He’d ridden the gelding hard to leave his troubles behind, and here they were waiting for him at the stables when he returned. “Master,” Junia greeted him warmly. “I’ve just finished giving Arieh a tour of the gardens, but I think he really wanted to see the stables. You know more about your animals than I do, maybe you’d like to introduce them?” Arieh went a shade of pink that rivaled the petals of some of the flowers in the garden and Enitan felt his heart skip. Before he had a chance to make a decision on the matter, though, Junia had made it for him, sweeping off toward the house with a wave and a reminder that she did have more work to do than babysitting the two of them. Enitan noted how Arieh watched her go and swallowed. I never even wondered if perhaps he might not be like me. He’s still young, but he is old enough to know his mind. I thought... Perhaps his beauty blinded me. He didn’t want to think about what he would do if the boy preferred Junia to him and put the thought far from his mind. Sweat and dust still clung to his skin and clothes as he swung down from the gelding. He started to hand over the reins to the stable boy, but paused when he noticed the way Arieh twitched. He looked at the boy curiously and Arieh flushed. “What is it?” Enitan asked, conscious of the stable boy growing impatient behind him, of the gelding stamping its hoof and bobbing its head to hurry things along.

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“Nothing,” Arieh said too quickly, fidgeting when Enitan raised an eyebrow imperiously. “Um, just habit,” he explained sheepishly when it was obvious Enitan expected an answer. “I cared for my f-father’s animals. Back h-home.” It was not lost on Enitan the way the boy stumbled across the words “father” and “home.” An alien burst of sympathy scattered through him and he frowned. He briefly considered letting Arieh tend to the gelding now, but handed over the reins to the stable boy instead. He didn’t relish the idea of standing around while sweat and grime dried on his skin just so the boy could rub down the horse, but he kept the idea in the back of his mind for a later date. Perhaps a familiar activity like that might be good for Arieh. “Well, come along,” Enitan said as the stable boy led the gelding away, trying his best not to sound as brusque as he felt. “You wanted to see the beasts, didn’t you?” Arieh followed but hung back for a step and Enitan sighed, wondering whether to call him out on it. His impulse was to command the boy to walk beside him, but the voice in his head echoed, Patience. Patience, Enitan. He scowled but pretended Arieh’s hesitation didn’t bother him at all. There were only a few animals in the barn—the gelding, a couple of large, lean dogs who didn’t bother looking up from their beds in the hay, a few egg laying fowl, a gangly calf that was being grain-fattened, and a couple of pigs. Arieh showed great interest in the dogs, stopping to let them lick his hands. The calf darted away from the fence and back again in a one-sided game of tag, and the gelding whickered at him when he approached, happy now that it was being curried and fed. He even had a smile for the geese and chickens that ignored them as they pecked grain and bugs from the ground. However, Enitan noticed that the boy didn’t so much as approach the pigpen. Enitan watched in amusement as Arieh skirted the area with only an uneasy glance in its direction, and tried not to laugh. He had to settle for a smile.

EVERY GOOD THING 47 “Is the smell too much for you?” he chuckled and Arieh looked so defiant Enitan almost couldn’t tell he was embarrassed. “We’re not allowed to touch them, sir,” Arieh said sharply, clearly gaining momentum for an indignant speech, but Enitan interrupted. “I have a name, Arieh,” he said, laughing to cover his exasperation. “It’s Enitan. I would like for you to use it.” Arieh faltered, thrown off balance. “But everyone else calls you sir,” he protested. “Not one of them is my pais, either,” Enitan pointed out, frowning a bit when Arieh blushed and looked away. “Now,” he continued briskly, breezing past the uncomfortable subject. “Tell me why you can’t touch these swine.” “Ah,” Arieh started, regaining only a shadow of his earlier fire. Enitan rather regretted interrupting him; the boy was fascinating when he was wound up. “The Vatan names them unclean.” Arieh’s words took a moment to fully filter in, but when they did, Enitan pulled up short. Now that the boy mentioned it, he thought he remembered hearing that somewhere. It was some joke one of his men had told about not knowing how the Riinean rug merchant in the marketplace got so fat, since he wasn’t allowed to eat any of the fun foods. “Come with me,” Enitan commanded abruptly, turning on his heel and marching back towards the house. He hoped Junia was somewhere nearby; he didn’t want the boy with him when he went to the kitchen, but he wasn’t going to be sidetracked looking for her. “What else are you not supposed to eat?” A wedding feast where the bride never touched the meal would be a disaster, after all.

[\ Arieh sat in the center of the bed, feeling so tightly wound he was afraid to move for fear he would fall apart. Enitan was having his bath, washing off all the dirt that had coated him from his morning ride. Arieh couldn’t believe it was only mid­

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afternoon; he felt so exhausted he was sure it must be late at night. Otherwise, being in the bedroom would have felt much stranger than it actually did. If he weren’t so nervous, he almost thought he could go to sleep. He was used to hard physical work from helping his father, but he had never known what kind of a drain mental stress could be. He had accompanied Enitan to the kitchen to speak to the head cook, feeling out of place and shy. He had been embarrassed, as if he was making trouble where he shouldn’t, and told Enitan once not to worry about it only to be given a silencing look. Arieh had stood quietly, feeling a hint of frostiness from the cook, a hugely muscular Regic man who didn’t seem to bow and scrape to Enitan with quite the same deference as the rest of the servants, though he certainly respected him enough. Enitan had managed to be polite while informing the cook that the menu for the feast would have to be changed at the last minute to include a different meat in place of the roast boar and had also outlined other foods that were forbidden in Arieh’s diet. The cook had taken it well enough, all things considered, but Arieh thought the man looked upset even if he did hide it well. Enitan had invited Arieh to a bath after their errand, but the shyness and awkwardness hadn’t left and Arieh was sure bathing with the man would only make it worse. Instead, he’d come to the bedroom, hoping for some time to himself to collect his thoughts. Aside from Junia, Arieh hadn’t managed to befriend any of the very few household servants he had met and he was worried about wandering about by himself. They never had been able to locate Junia and Arieh realized that she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Enitan she had other work to do. She practically runs his household, Arieh realized. And I’ve been forcing her to babysit me as if I were a newly weaned baby, like Dan or Simen, and not at the age of manhood. He felt ashamed of himself and straightened his spine, taking a deep breath. He was to have had his avehasi this year,

EVERY GOOD THING 49 the ceremony that would liberate him from childhood and declare him a man, old enough to be apprenticed to a man’s job, to do a man’s work, to be betrothed—certainly old enough to look after himself. He would have already had it, in fact, had his parents not been struggling to save enough money to pay their taxes. He knew his mother had wanted to put some aside for the ceremony, which would be a feast and a celebration, but she had never been able to. There was always something. And in the end, here I am anyway, he sighed to himself, studying his hands. There were small calluses at the bases and tips of his fingers, marks from chopping wood or handling the donkeys or plowing their small field. He used to have dirt under his fingernails all the time from helping his parents and sister in the garden, but now they were clean, scrubbed until they shone. So preoccupied was he by this that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Enitan’s voice rumbled, “Are you all right?” “Oh! I’m fine.” Arieh clenched his hands into fists, curling his fingertips in until he could feel the fingernails digging into his palms. “I guess I’m just a little tired. Sorry.” Enitan seemed to stare at him and Arieh realized with a start that it was perhaps the most normal sentence he’d ever spoken to the man. It was an odd concept, having a friendly conversation with a man who had bought him to... to... He shivered. “I was lost in thought,” he added to cover his sudden reaction. Maybe make believe normalcy wasn’t so bad after all. Enitan sat down on the edge of the bed and Arieh felt the wool-stuffed cushion under him shift toward the man’s weight. He leaned away to keep from sliding and averted his eyes. Enitan hadn’t bothered to dress again after his bath, choosing to let the moisture evaporate on his skin, cooling him in the warm summer air. Arieh understood the reasoning behind it, but the fact remained that Enitan was wet and naked and sitting on the bed less than two feet from him. It was unnerving. “Would you... could I...” Enitan trailed off and Arieh blinked in surprise. He didn’t think he had ever heard the man speak with anything less than absolute certainty. There had

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never been a moment’s hesitation in his voice that Arieh could remember. Something about his sudden shyness was... endearing. “What were you thinking about?” he finally said. “Oh, about my avehasi,” Arieh said, comfortable with this topic of conversation. It was something he understood, something that occupied his mind. It also gave him a chance to promise, in a roundabout way, that he wasn’t going to be so high maintenance anymore. “I was supposed to have it this year.” “Avehasi?” Enitan didn’t quite stumble over the Riine word, but it sounded clumsy and unfamiliar on his tongue. Arieh wondered if the man spoke any Riinean at all. “An emancipation ceremony,” Arieh grinned. Avehasin were important to boys his age; important and exciting. “When I officially become a man.” The corner of Enitan’s mouth turned up and Arieh thought he saw warm mirth in the man’s blue eyes. Was he laughing? “I see,” Enitan said, managing to sound serious. “And you haven’t had yours yet?” “No,” Arieh sighed. “My parents couldn’t afford it yet. Mom wanted to save up for it.” He felt a wash of sadness and bit the inside of his lower lip. Thinking about his parents always brought on the melancholy. Sometimes, in all the madness of surviving in his new life, trying to maneuver gracefully through the unfamiliar situation, he forgot about normal things like his family. When he remembered them, he missed them, even Rahel and Simen and Dan, and little Maat who had just been born and cried endlessly. She won’t even know who I am when she grows up, he thought sadly, remembering how small Maat had been the last time he’d seen her. She’ll only think she has two brothers, and someone will tell her that she has a brother named Arieh, too, but he is dead to her now, like our ancestor Sefar in E’ea, sold to slavers. But the Sefar his father had been named after, the one who had brought his family into E’ea to feed them in the worst famine, had found a new life in his slavery and had risen to a position of great honor. It’s foolishness to think I could do the same,

EVERY GOOD THING 51 Arieh sighed to himself, then started as he realized Enitan was speaking. “...tomorrow night?” Enitan was looking at him expectantly and Arieh could only swallow. He hadn’t actually heard the question and now he was expected to give an answer. “I’m sorry,” Arieh said, trying not to cringe. “I was lost in thought again. Could you repeat the question?” His politeness sounded stilted even to himself, but he didn’t want to sound careless. Enitan’s mouth twitched but Arieh couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or exasperation. “I wondered if you would like to count the banquet tomorrow night as your avehasi ceremony. I don’t know what is usually done, but...” Arieh blinked. It was a thoughtful proposal, and generous. Why, he wondered suddenly, are we forbidden to associate with foreigners? Some of the priests would have him believe that foreigners were imperfect, corrupt and cruel, unworthy of a good Riine’s notice and company. The name faithless made them seem dangerous, blasphemous. As a child, he had accepted this teaching blindly, but now he could feel his mind opening. Junia is not cruel, he found himself thinking. And neither is this man. In fact, he’s... he’s good. “That... that’s okay.” Arieh finally found his voice. “That you don’t know the ceremony, I mean. I don’t suppose... I don’t guess it’s important now. I’m as good as dead to my parents anyway; it’s not like I have anyone to be emancipated from.” Enitan reached out and tipped Arieh’s chin up, looking into his eyes. Arieh wanted to look away but wouldn’t let himself. He found that the longer he held eye contact with Enitan, the more his nervousness began to fade. As strange as everything was, this man wasn’t a monster. In fact, if Arieh were forced to describe him, he wouldn’t discard the word kind. “You can still think of it as a coming of age, if you like,” Enitan said, and his voice was thicker than normal. There was something in his eyes, too, that Arieh found at once strange and familiar. It made him shiver, but not with fear or disgust.

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“Th-thank you,” he said, trying not to give into his urge to turn his face away from Enitan’s hand. Being held by the chin, however lightly, made him a bit nervous. He tried to gently turn his head away, hoping to give Enitan the hint that he would like to be released, but the man only stroked his fingers across Arieh’s jaw. “Arieh,” he said roughly, and Arieh could feel himself coloring from just the sound of his name in that tone. “May I kiss you?” Arieh couldn’t have been any more surprised if Enitan had told him he was really a woman. Prickles of heat washed over his skin like icy needles and his vision swam for a moment. Enitan was asking his permission for a kiss. It was surreal. Somewhere, he thought he could remember Junia telling him, You are his pais. If he wanted, it is within his rights to force you to do your duty. It is proof of how much he likes you that he hasn’t touched you. Overwhelmed by everything, by his whirlwind morning, by the fact that he could already feel the world tilting on its axis, what with questioning the priests of his youth for perhaps the first time, by his decision to stop being a boy and start being a man, Arieh didn’t know how to respond. Somehow, despite himself, he liked Enitan. He liked the way the other man treated him with respect, how the man focused on him. He wasn’t used to that kind of attention, but he could feel himself responding to it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be the center of someone’s attention. He studied Enitan as the man watched him patiently, waiting for his answer, and thought, I don’t want to hurt him, not after everything. I don’t want to anger him. I don’t want to disappoint him again. He bit his lip. It’s wrong, another voice in his head insisted. It’s forbidden. Enitan’s hand began to loosen on his jaw as the first voice in his mind answered, I am dead to my parents by now. What is forbidden to a dead man? The hand touching him fell away. Sin is still sin, even after death, the second voice said. “Yes,” said Arieh.

CHAPTER SEVEN Enitan had seen the surprise on Arieh’s face when he’d asked if he could kiss the boy and he imagined he himself must look much the same now. For a brief moment, he was dizzy and short of breath as if his gelding had kicked him in the stomach. Easy, he told himself, a caution against being too eager. The boy had agreed, but there was still worry in his eyes. Don’t want to scare him. Enitan never wanted to think that Arieh might kiss him purely out of fear of being punished for refusing and he didn’t want Arieh’s first real, willing kiss with him to be a frightening, painful memory. It was an alien thought; he’d never had to be concerned about that before, never had to woo someone who didn’t want him first. It was with that in mind that he leaned in slowly, brushing his lips across the boy’s. He felt Arieh jerk at the first unfamiliar sensation and stilled for a moment, rubbing his thumb along the boy’s jaw. After pausing for a breath, he pressed in more firmly, a simple kiss, lips against lips. Were it not for the way he lingered there, it could have been as chaste as a mother’s affection for her child. He thought of stopping there, of letting Arieh go, giving him room to process all that was happening, but then the boy’s breath hitched and Enitan had to taste him. He restrained himself, only allowing his tongue to flicker over Arieh’s lower lip when what he really wanted was to force the boy’s mouth open and taste the warmth inside, sweeping across every surface he could find. He repeated the motion, then softly kissed Arieh’s upper lip and pulled away. He didn’t know what he expected to see on the boy’s face but the sight of fresh tears on that smooth, brown skin made his stomach turn. He pulled his hands back as if that would stop the tears, as if his touch were painful to the boy.

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From the looks of it, it just might be, he thought bitterly. Arieh wasn’t angry and didn’t look particularly upset aside from the tears, a dark shadow behind his eyes, and an almost imperceptible tremble in his bottom lip. Enitan couldn’t help but think he knew what that lip felt like against his tongue; he’d tasted it and loved it. Helplessness struck him like a stiivi, heavy and blunt and laden with selfrecrimination. He said I could, he reminded himself desperately. I asked. I didn’t force him. Somehow, the thoughts didn’t help. It still felt like it was all his fault. When Arieh didn’t speak and didn’t look away, only kept staring at him like a cornered hare might stare at a fox in the moment before the predator’s teeth closed around its neck, Enitan couldn’t take it any longer. “You said I could kiss you,” Enitan reminded the boy, trying not to sound too angry... or too hurt. “So why are you looking at me as if I’m... unclean?” Arieh blinked and his mouth worked for a moment without producing a sound. Finally, he shook his head and looked down at his lap, the tears that had been standing in his eyes falling onto the sheet and staining the white linen with perfect little circles. “No,” he said, sounding choked and very, very old. “No, I am the one who is unclean.” Enitan frowned. It had been so long since he’d comforted anyone that he almost didn’t remember how. He wanted to, though, wanted to soothe what was clearly a deep pain for Arieh. He remembered holding his little sister, remembered how she would burrow into his chest and he would stroke her hair. She had been about Arieh’s age at the time; it might work again. He reached out slowly, feeling foolish and awkward, and softly touched Arieh’s shoulder. The boy jerked away with a sharp cry and Enitan flinched before he slid his arm around Arieh’s shoulders with more purpose. He could feel the bones just underneath the smooth skin, surprisingly fragile for their breadth, and swallowed. Arieh’s body was caught halfway between boyhood and

EVERY GOOD THING 55 manhood, much like the boy himself. It was a vibrant age, painfully aware and alive, and Enitan thought he could feel every spark of conflict and energy running through that frame. Closing his eyes, he pulled the boy in. “No,” Arieh yelped, trying to push away from Enitan and panicking when he couldn’t seem to get his hands in between their bodies to gain leverage. “Don’t touch me!” Startled, Enitan held him tighter for a moment before he realized that Arieh wasn’t simply being stubborn. There was so much fear in him that Enitan could almost smell it. It hung in the air and twisted painfully inside Enitan’s chest. He let go abruptly and sat back, putting space between himself and Arieh. He sat, stunned, and watched while Arieh seemed to collapse in on himself, gasping deeply. Enitan was afraid the boy would hyperventilate but he didn’t know anything he could do for him. Any comfort from Enitan would most likely only make things worse for Arieh. “Stay here,” he said roughly as he stood from the bed and reached for his summer tunic. “I will send Junia to you.” Arieh didn’t acknowledge him, shivering with some inner chill as he tried to hold off the sobs. Enitan tried not to think about it too hard as he left the room and found a guard to station at the door. “Do not let the boy come out,” he said. “Don’t let anyone in except Junia.” “And you, sir, of course,” the slave nodded. “No,” Enitan said grimly, looking over his shoulder in the boy’s direction even though he couldn’t see him from his current position. “Not even me, unless Junia says so.” The guard looked very surprised but Enitan ignored him and turned to go find Junia, grimacing with every step as the pain in his chest bloomed, spreading tendrils of worry through every limb. Tomorrow night is the feast, he remembered. What am I going to do?

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The guard at the door stepped aside with a small nod and Junia swept through, almost knocking him over when he didn’t get out of the way fast enough. Her master’s tortured feelings had been visible on his face to anyone who knew him well enough and Junia was afraid of what state she would find Arieh in when she entered the room. “He’s crying,” Enitan had said, his voice thick and rough. “I’m not sure why.” She hadn’t pressed for details, had only turned and hurried toward the room. In the beginning, her primary concern for Arieh had been because she had seen the plain evidence of how intensely Enitan felt towards the boy. It hadn’t taken long, however, for her care for the boy to evolve into a creature independent of her concern for her master. If I had stayed in the highlands, she thought, if I’d had a son, a brother... When she entered the room, she saw Arieh curled up on the mattress as if he were in pain, knees pulled up toward his chest and arms crossed over his stomach. He wasn’t sobbing, but his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and tears were trickling down his face. Confusion and worry blossomed and she hesitated by the bed, wondering whether touch would soothe him or make it worse. “Arieh?” she called softly. His eyes blinked open and for a moment he looked lost, his eyes unfocused and glassy. “Mother?” he said softly, and Junia felt her heart twist. “No, little one. It’s Junia.” She did reach out then, a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to the present. “Are you all right?” “Oh, sorry,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were clear, if nearly as tortured as Enitan’s had been. “I should have known you weren’t Mother. She always called me Arik.” “Arik?” Junia asked, pursuing the conversation even if he wasn’t giving her a straight answer yet.

EVERY GOOD THING 57 He nodded. “My family called me that. Well, my mother and my sister, and my brother Simen. Father only called me that when I was little.” “It’s a nice name.” “You can call me that if you like,” Arieh murmured, sounding sleepy, and Junia realized that he really was dodging her question. Besides, as nice as the offer was, she didn’t think she would be using a nickname for him before Enitan was allowed to. She didn’t want to think about what her life would be like if her master became jealous of her. “Arieh,” she said again. “Are you all right? Why are you crying?” He squeezed his eyes shut and she realized that he had been avoiding her question because he didn’t want to think about it anymore, himself. She almost felt sorry for pressing him, but she needed to know. She needed to help him so she could help her master. These things never do go very smoothly, she thought with an inward sigh. Little one, this would be so much easier if he didn’t want your heart. “I... I’m horrible,” he finally said in a hoarse whisper, not opening his eyes. His fingers were curling into themselves and she started to worry that he was going to cut his own palms. She pried his hand open and held it in her own, and had to clench her jaw to keep from crying out when he tightened his fingers, all his inner pain expressed in that gesture. “When... when h-he... kissed me, I... I liked it.” Junia couldn’t imagine being any more relieved than she was to hear that. She sank down onto the bed beside him and cupped her other hand over the one that was clutching hers so fiercely, stroking his knuckles. “All things considered, Arieh,” she said gently, “Don’t you think it’s better that you did?” He never did answer her and she stayed with him, softly petting him until he fell asleep, teardrops standing on his eyelashes. Of the boy, her master, and herself, Junia felt sure she was the least confused—and that wasn’t saying much.

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[\ Even though Kallias was a hired servant and did not live in Enitan Viden’s house as the slaves did, he knew immediately when he entered early on the morning of the feast that it had been a long night for the household and that, despite the grey line of approaching dawn on the horizon, morning still had not come for them. There was a sort of drawn out tension in the air and the servants all looked pale and tightlipped. Instead of the bright energy of a morning bustle, everyone seemed as if they were walking spirits, called out on Ashkal’s Eve, the Night of the Dead, and then trapped in the world of the living. It was unnerving, to say the least, and Kallias hastened to the kitchen, eager to lose himself in the feast preparations and enjoy the warmth of the other household cooks preparing breakfast. Kallias was an easygoing man, “round of face and big of heart,” as his mother had noted since his childhood, “and flat of foot,” his father had always grumbled. “He just has a solid stride,” his mother had defended him, and Kallias put that stride to good use now, entering the kitchen with an air of authority. Ghouls and wandering spirits had no place in a world of baking bread and roasting meat, and the young kids Kallias had purchased from the market needed looking after. They weren’t as good as the roast boar, Kallias felt sure; that had been a special prize, worthy of the feast it was being prepared for, but the tender young goats would have to do. When Viden had come into the kitchen the day before, apologizing brusquely and demanding that the main course of the feast be changed, Kallias had first suggested the fatted calf in the pen behind the house. The Keshen hadn’t quite looked over his shoulder, but Kallias had sensed the man’s awareness of the boy behind him. “No,” Viden had said. “Choose a lamb or a kid from the market. Buy it from the Riinean butcher on the corner. The calf is not yet ready.” Kallias had taken careful note of the boy while Viden had been in the kitchen and had observed to himself that he

EVERY GOOD THING 59 thought Demic was wrong in his assessment of the pais. He does not have an ounce of arrogance about him, Kallias had thought with a pang of something like compassion. He merely seems frightened— and well he might. I don’t believe the Riineans have this kind of custom. He hadn’t complained about having to change the feast at the last minute when he saw the boy; in fact, he felt guilty for going along with Demic and his scheme of petty revenge. This boy was not the haughty Riinean family that had ruined his younger sister-in-law; it would be as unfair to punish the boy for being a Riine as it had been of that family to reject the girl for being a Regic. Chagrined, he had gone down to the Riinean butcher that moment and bought several fine kids and fragrant herbs. If Viden was determined to woo his reluctant lover with a feast, Kallias didn’t want to think what might happen to the man who ruined the attempt. Now, as he checked on the meat that had been left slowroasting in the fire pit all night, he heard footsteps approaching him that sounded more purposeful than the other kitchen slaves moving about their jobs. He paused and looked over his shoulder to see Demic approaching. Possibly the last person I wanted to see at the moment, Kallias sighed. He didn’t particularly mind the man’s company, despite Demic’s put-on airs and aloofness—in fact, Kallias found such traits amusing in a slave—but he was bound to be in a worse mood than normal now that Enitan had rescued the feast. However, there was the matter of how strangely everyone in the household was behaving this morning and Demic would most likely know more about that than anyone else. Kallias was as fond of gossip as any woman, though he tried not to show it, and for that reason he smiled at the approaching slave. Demic scowled in reply and Kallias felt an inward surge of anticipation. This should be a good story. “Happy morning,” Kallias said cheerfully. “It will be a fine day for the feast.”

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If possible, Demic’s expression soured even more at the mention of the feast. “Damned Riinean brat,” he spat, and Kallias almost laughed. Oh yes, a very good story. “I’ll be surprised if there even is a feast.” Kallias paused. Changing the menu at the last moment was one matter, canceling altogether was quite another. “What do you mean?” he asked, dark menace in his voice. “The master did not even sleep in his own room last night. The brat slept there all by himself.” Kallias’ eyebrows shot up. So Viden was having a harder time of things than one might have imagined. In that case, the feast is the best course of action, Kallias thought to himself. He could tell that Viden wanted more from his pais than simply an unquestioning bed partner. If he had only wanted someone who yielded their body without thought and out of duty, he would not have spent so much on such a beautiful and troublesome boy—and he certainly would not have chosen a Riine. “Has Viden called off the feast?” Kallias asked. It was no real concern of his beyond the scope of the meal itself, but he remembered the way Viden had seemed so aware of the boy, so careful in all things. Kallias knew from Junia—who had asked him if he knew a library or any scribes that could attain a copy of the Riinean holy writings for her—that Viden and the boy had been with the animals before they came to the kitchen. He had a feeling that the boy had shown some affection or attachment for that calf in the pen; Kallias knew very well that the calf was ripe for slaughtering, but Viden had chosen to spend a small fortune on goats instead. “No,” Demic growled. “But he should.” Kallias came very close to pointing out that Viden was the master of the house and had no need for Demic to tell him what he should and should not do, but that would probably ruin his source of gossip and that would never do. It was obvious that Demic was, more than anything, jealous of the Riine and Kallias actually felt sorry for him. Wanting someone you would never have was a painful place for anyone.

EVERY GOOD THING 61 Kallias still remembered his own boyhood infatuation with the beautiful wife of one of his father’s employers. He was happy enough with his own wife now, but he hated to think what he might feel if he were employed in that household, with that woman. Demic peeked into the roasting pit, saw the two kids turning on their spits, and frowned. “What are these?” he demanded. “Where is the boar?” “Your master discovered the problem yesterday and came to me to demand that the boar be eliminated from the feast,” Kallias said mildly, keeping an eye on Demic just in case the man turned any amusing colors at the news. The shade of ripe raspberry that he reached was rewarding, indeed. Demic turned with a strangled noise and left the kitchen, and Kallias finally let himself smile, though the expression faded quickly enough. Enjoying gossip about the troubles of his employer’s household was one thing, but even he knew it could get dangerous quickly under the right circumstances. Maybe he would stay to oversee the food at the feast tonight after all.

CHAPTER EIGHT There was a two-fold purpose to the feast Enitan had commanded in Arieh’s honor. On the one hand, it would act as their akienda, their wedding celebration, along with being Arieh’s avehasi. On the other, it would be a way to be sure all his household servants knew who Arieh was and what position he held. This one is mine and hell to the man who touches him. Enitan was deeply preoccupied while Demic helped ready him for the banquet. The formal tunic he was wearing required more hands than just his two; he wasn’t sure he even knew how to put the damn thing together on his own with all its intricate folds of cloth. Still, his mind was where Junia was dressing Arieh in the other room. He didn’t even realize his slave was speaking to him until Demic had already been going on for a bit. “You look handsome, sir,” Demic noted, a purr of selfsatisfaction in his voice. Enitan grunted in what might have been agreement. Let us hope the boy feels the same. The day before, after the kiss gone wrong, Junia had tried to assure him that all was as well as it could be at the moment, not to be discouraged, but Arieh had still been so upset by the time night fell that Enitan couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed with the boy. He’d been afraid of what kind of torment it might put the young man through and those tears had nearly been his undoing. He had almost asked Arieh, or at least Junia, if he should call off the feast, but in the end he’d been a coward, too afraid that they might tell him that he should. Still, the conflict in him had reached a point of reaction, and Enitan had been forced to accept a very hard decision that his heart had made without his consent.

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If there is no other way, Enitan promised himself, this will simply be Arieh’s coming-of-age feast and I will release him from his duties as a pais. He can be just another household slave. I’m certain there is a place for him. Perhaps he would enjoy working with the animals... Enitan dropped his head in despair and groaned. To think that the boy would rather spend his days in the company of smelly livestock than as Enitan’s companion made him ache. He had not even told Junia of his decision, but Arieh’s reaction to their kiss the day before had been something he couldn’t ignore. The boy had been brave, attempted to be willing, and in the end had not been able to accept even that simple kiss. How much more would it destroy him to be Enitan’s lover? In the end, there would be nothing left of the beautiful boy that had captured his attention so effortlessly at the slave market; Arieh would become just like the temple prostitutes or the boys for hire, submitting to his physical demands out of duty or necessity but never desire... never love. “Master?” Demic was calling and Enitan could hear the note of irritation in his voice. There was no telling how long he’d been trying to get Enitan’s attention. “Thank you, Demic,” Enitan said gruffly. “I can finish the rest. You are dismissed.” The slave looked taken aback but bowed stiffly before exiting the room, and Enitan sighed. He had the feeling he was making a mess of things all around lately. I haven’t done anything right since I made Junia head of my household, he berated himself. Perhaps I should just marry her after all and be done with it. It would be a sterile marriage, but what is the difference between one fruitless union and the next? Enitan shook his head at his own cynicism and ran a nervous hand through his thick brown hair. The next few hours were going to be among the longest of his life. If Arieh did not give him some sign, he was about to lose his pais before he ever really had him.

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EVERY GOOD THING 65 Everything was a blur to Arieh, a whirl of color and sound and scent. From the moment he’d awakened that morning, alone and cold in Enitan’s sprawling bed, he had been whisked away and submitted to all manner of preparations. Oils and perfumes had been rubbed into his skin for hours; his hair had been combed with spiced oil and he’d been fed only very lightly on fresh fruits, bread, and honey. He had spent hours at the mercy of several women under Junia’s supervision who dressed him carefully and painted his eyes with kohl. When he saw himself in the polished brass mirror they held up for him afterward, he was surprised at his own appearance. “Like a young prince,” Junia had proclaimed, beaming like a proud mother. She had left him sitting alone in the room with an order not to “mess anything up,” and hurried off to help with preparations, he could only assume. There were several scrolls set by to keep him occupied, but he knew if he tried to read them the script would only run together senselessly. He was still a tangle of confusion, waiting as the clock ticked down to the moment when the decision would no longer be his. He had acquiesced to the kiss the night before and it had been so different from the first one, stolen without his permission. Last night, he hadn’t expected anything like the odd spark in his belly at the press of Enitan’s mouth against his and the wet swipe of the man’s tongue over his lips. He knew enough to know about lust and covetousness, though he’d never felt it toward another human himself. He’d heard his friends talking about the young women of their neighborhood—pretty Dinah or shapely Mara—but he’d never really understood them. He had admitted that the girls were pretty, sure, but he’d never felt any desire to touch them, claim them for his own. When Enitan had kissed him, he had finally understood what his friends had talked about and it terrified him. There’s something wrong with me, he thought even now, sitting perfectly still and feeling the slight twinge of pain with every beat of his heart, pulsing down through his palms and fingertips

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and the soles of his feet. The priests say that desire for another man is unnatural, sinful, and yet I’ve never desired a woman and I want this man, this foreign, faithless soldier. Something in me must be wrong. He had been wrestling with the thought ever since he had lurched away from Enitan’s touch the night before, afraid of the heat it bred in his body. Maybe this is why I was chosen to be sold, he thought miserably. Perhaps Ayh sent me to the slavers as punishment, to free my family from my wrongness before I brought a curse upon them. That must be why the soldiers chose me to sell instead of Rahel... Rahel is good. She is marrying a good man, becoming a bride, being a good daughter. Ayh must have been cleansing my family of my sin. Does this mean He has cast me out? The thought brought stinging tears to his eyes but before they could fall, Junia entered the room, all bright smiles and sparkling eyes, and saw him. “Don’t!” she said immediately. “You’ll ruin your eyes.” She came closer to him and knelt on the floor in front of him, placing her hands on his knees as she looked up at his face. “What is it, little one? Are you afraid?” Arieh shook his head, his clenched fists resting nervously on top of Junia’s hands. “I was just... thinking about my family,” he hedged. “It’s nothing.” “Are you afraid of the feast tonight?” she pressed, rubbing her hands over his knees in soothing patterns. “Or afterward?” Arieh considered her question and chewed on his lip, stopping when she shot him a disapproving frown. Don’t ruin your mouth, he could almost hear her say. She was so proud of the way he looked tonight it made him want to smile. “I’m not afraid of Enitan,” he said slowly, trying to be as honest as he could. “I am... afraid of myself. I’m afraid I’m... broken, or sick. That I’m wrong.” Junia reached up and stroked the side of his face gently, sympathy in her eyes. “Arieh, we do not serve the same gods, you and I. But you believe your god cares for you, yes?” That was a difficult question. If Ayh had cast him out of his family, out of his tribe, out of his very nation and the holy

EVERY GOOD THING 67 house of worship, then that didn’t sound very much like caring, did it? But everything he had been taught all his life said that Ayh always did everything for a reason, that He preserved Riinea and only punished her for her own sins to keep her from destroying herself with them, like a master with a stubborn animal; that Xea was a mother to them, teaching their women how to be fruitful and productive, good wives to their husbands. Arieh, like all boys, had been dedicated to Ayh at birth and had served Him faithfully, accompanying his father to temple while his mother and Rahel took offerings to the altar of Xea. So why did He throw me into the very lap of my sin? Arieh couldn’t help thinking. It isn’t like I’ve been burning with lust all these years to deserve to be punished. Still, Junia had asked a question and Arieh gave her the only answer he had. “I think so.” “Then perhaps your god is the one who stirred the master’s heart to buy you, so that you would be in the house of a master who cares for you and who will give you what happiness he can.” Junia’s eyes seemed to shine with wisdom and something felt right about her words. “I believe the gods only call forbidden the things that will harm us,” she continued. “Sometimes it is far too easy to think of things like sin as having a mystical meaning, but I believe that anyone who cares for you—even your god—would only want your happiness.” She shrugged. “Maybe what I’m saying is wrong, but Arieh, think about this. Why would anyone who cares for you deny you something that is good? And love, whoever gives it, is always good.” Junia’s words made far too much sense; even though she was encouraging him to accept something the priests had taught him was wrong, what she was saying sounded exactly like what he had been taught. He remembered one of the songs that they had sung at the temple gatherings from time to time on the holy days. “Worship Ayh, whose love is the constance of light, whose mercy lights the dawn every morning and guides the night through its dances.” Wouldn’t He want you to have something good?

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It was an easy question to ask, but a harder one to answer.

[\ When Junia led the boy out of the bed chamber, his eyes were downcast and distant. Demic bowed to him out of duty— he was the master’s pais, after all, and the feast tonight was in his honor—but the boy didn’t even seem to notice. Junia brought him to the edge of the banqueting room and left him standing beside the door in the care of two of the women who had dressed and bathed him, but the boy only stared straight ahead, as if only his body was there but his spirit had flown away somewhere. So unworthy of the master, Demic thought angrily, watching him. He is beautiful, certainly, but so cold. He has lived here for nearly a week and has yet to so much as do his duty. Does he think he’s better than all of us who serve the master faithfully every day? He isn’t even speaking to the women who dressed him, acting as if they aren’t human, as if they aren’t there. He remembered what the Regic cook had said about the Riinean family that had driven his young sister-in-law to suicide, how they had led her on and then cruelly treated her like an outcast simply because she was not one of them. He’s just like them, Demic huffed to himself. Why does the master insist on honoring him with a feast? Why can’t he see that this boy is simply not good enough for him, no matter how pretty his face may be? He thought of the boar that was supposed to be served that night, the one that Enitan had given to the servants who helped prepare the feast to be their own portion, their own reward and part of the celebration. It was a fine boar, but Demic knew that it had originally been intended for the boy. The servants had merely been given the leftovers. The gesture, grand as it was, stung and Demic blamed the boy. At that moment, he wished very strongly that Enitan had not discovered the problem with the boar; how he would have loved to see that haughty attitude brought down low in humiliation when the boy was forced to eat the forbidden flesh or embarrass himself in front of the guests.

EVERY GOOD THING 69 No, Demic realized. It would not have humiliated the boy, but rather the master. It is better that the menu was changed. If the boy is to be taught a lesson, it will have to be in a different way, one that will not bring shame to the master’s name. He wondered what he might possibly be able to do that would teach the boy his place as a slave, but then the bells started ringing to call the guests to dinner and he was reminded that he had duties of his own to attend. He could not afford to be standing around glaring at a dirty slave boy who thought he was too good to warm the master’s bed. It would simply have to wait.

[\ There had been many times since Arieh’s arrival that Junia had felt sympathy for the boy; this was one of the first she had felt wicked amusement mixed with it. Being that the feast was in Arieh’s honor, he was not allowed to enter the hall until all the guests were seated. Enitan wanted his entrance to make an impression. Of course Enitan was already seated at the far end of the room, at the head of the gathering, lounging on cushions that were obviously strewn for more than just himself. The noticeable absence of Arieh’s body there would make the boy’s entrance that much more dramatic. Arieh, however, was as visibly anxious as she’d ever seen him, trembling like a hunted deer ready to bound into the woods. When she placed a hand on the back of his shoulder to steady him, he nearly leaped out of his skin. “Nervous?” she asked, trying to keep the laughter from coloring her tone too heavily. “A little,” he admitted. “I’m not used to being in front of so many people.” He shifted from foot to foot and she rubbed her hand soothingly over his back. “You’re the main attraction tonight,” she told him proudly, knowing she was probably tormenting him further but unable to resist teasing him a little. He wasn’t as petrified as he had been after his kiss with Enitan, and she thought that focusing

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on his discomfort with being the center of attention might help distract him from his fear about his own feelings of attraction to the master. “Thank you for reminding me,” he said dryly and she laughed in surprise at his unexpected humor. “You’ll be fine,” she said with sudden certainty. If he was making jokes, no matter how wry his tone, then he would survive without much trouble. She wondered what had helped him leave behind his dark meanderings for this lighter approach but thought it best not to question it at the moment. “I’ll be escorting you part of the way, and then Enitan will be there.” The tension in his frame at that reminder was subtle, but it was there, and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. “Of course,” he said, and for once she had no clue what he was feeling. The guests were rowdy and excited and it was a few minutes before they settled down enough for Enitan to get their attention. There were several of his friends from other parts of the military, a few of his officers and men, and some of his family and their political friends. Looking at all these people eagerly awaiting the introduction of his new lover reminded her of what Arieh had told her about his religion and culture. If this were his family, they would have been gathering to stone him, not to drink to his health, she realized. She smiled with admiration for his bravery and tapped her fingers gently against his shoulder blade when Enitan stood and lifted his cup, calling for his guests’ attention. “This is you,” she whispered to him as Enitan made an introductory speech. She wasn’t listening to his words; she saw the way his face glowed and looked to Arieh, noticing how the boy took a bracing breath and drew himself up to full height. She heard the guests calling ribald jokes, comments on Enitan’s tastes, sympathy for his pais, and chuckled to herself. She touched Arieh’s arm and stepped away, going to the door. She would walk ahead of him, leading him into the room. Her appearance was Enitan’s cue.

EVERY GOOD THING 71 “Have you changed your preference?” one of his men shouted when Junia appeared in the doorway. “We’ve met her already!” “Not that we’d mind gettin’ to know her more,” another one joined in much to the guests’ amusement. Junia barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. They hadn’t even had time to get drunk yet. “Shut your foul mouths, you filthy beasts,” Enitan said, though he was laughing. “Oh, I get it!” someone nearer the head of the table called out. “She’s the bride’s maid!” The whole banquet hall burst into raucous applause and this time Junia did allow herself a small snort of amusement. She walked into the hall, sensing Arieh at her back as she did. The boy was nearly taller than she was, but she still was enough to obscure their view for a moment. She paused, still near the doorway, and waited until Enitan nodded before she bowed gracefully and stepped to the side, revealing Arieh to the guests. Instantly, a hush swept them, and she looked at the boy. His eyes were downcast, though his posture was neither shy nor petulant. When he raised his eyes, the guests were louder than before, banging their cups on the table and shouting their raunchy congratulations to Enitan. Junia watched the boy carefully to see how he would react but he seemed oblivious, his eyes focused on one point at the other end of the room. She followed his gaze and saw that he was fixed on Enitan, steady and unblinking. She guessed Arieh was using that familiarity to block out the rest of the party noise and smiled, her own eyes going to her master. When she saw him, Enitan was standing stock still, as if entranced by a spell of the gods. He looked positively thunderstruck and it was all Junia could do not to giggle.

CHAPTER NINE Sariyah knelt in the shadows at the edge of the room, hands calmly folded on her lap, colorful veils draping her body and face in a wispy game of hide and seek. She surveyed the guests at the feast with a careful eye, sizing them up, dividing them into groups of useful and not worth her time. She and her brother were being paid well to be the entertainment at this celebration, but there was always the chance of picking up a little extra income on the side. Sariyah thought of her young daughter Yeira, sitting obediently in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Sariyah’s aunt Marit, a kitchen slave in the household. Marit had been the one who had brought up Sariyah and Zakai’s names for entertainment for the evening. Both of them were excellent dancers, captivating and stunning. Ever since Yeira’s birth six years ago, Sariyah had viewed their trade much differently than before, but her twin brother Zakai more than made up for her newfound responsibility. I only hope he limits himself to seducing the feast guests, she thought to herself. And hopefully the male ones, at that. Her brother joked that he would sleep with anything that moved, and Sariyah only hoped he meant “within the human race,” but she couldn’t be sure. They were twins, but they had little in common except in their dark, seductive looks. They had danced at many feasts and banquets, and Sariyah had seen many odd things, so when the “bride” who was escorted in turned out to be a beautiful young man, it came as no surprise to her. What did surprise her was the gentleness with which the host treated the boy. There was no pandering, no groveling; the broad shouldered Keshen kentari did nothing that would debase himself in front of his guests, but there was a subtle deference to his actions. In short, he was captivated by his young lover.

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The boy, Sariyah noticed, was nervous. He is new at this, Sariyah thought with sympathy. And still a virgin, or not long deflowered. It was hard to remember ever being that innocent. She herself had been fourteen when she found herself carrying Yeira, the result of a less-than-careful night picking up a few extra coins to live on. She had only been dancing at feasts for two years, ever since her parents died, and the host of the feast had offered her twice the sum she and Zakai had been paid for dancing, if only she would sleep with him. I know better now, she thought. Yeira is a blessing, the light of my life, but she does make my life more difficult even while she adds meaning to it. She wouldn’t give up her daughter for all the gold in the world, but she would prefer not to provide her with any siblings. Or cousins, she added to herself as she watched Zakai dance. He was too good, luring in men and women with his sultry beauty and sensual movements. Having been left on her own with Yeira, Sariyah preferred it when Zakai chose men for his conquests. At least then she didn’t have the lingering twinge of guilt that perhaps he had left behind part of himself with some woman. She didn’t know how many cousins Yeira had and hoped she never would. Zakai’s dance ended to much applause and he paraded himself before a few guests before sauntering over to where she was and sliding into a kneeling position beside her. “Your turn, sister,” he purred, breathing quickly from the excitement of the dance. His skin was glowing with a light sheen of sweat and a soft flush and his eyes glittered. She knew how he felt; this was one thing they shared, the way the dance stirred the heat of their blood and brought them alive. She smiled at him and he grinned back, white teeth flashing in the shadows. “Show them what you can do.” Sariyah rose to her feet, tiny bells and cymbals tinkling as she moved, and took her place in the center of the room. She danced with everything she had, as lithe and dangerous as a coiled snake waiting to strike. When she finished, she could feel eyes upon her—the guests were already shouting out their offers, bidding over each other—but they were not the host’s.

EVERY GOOD THING 75 He only had eyes for the young man beside him, who seemed to only have eyes for the floor. When she returned to her place beside Zakai, settling into a kneeling position while another entertainer took the floor with his harp and a lovely singing voice, she couldn’t help quietly wishing the host good fortune with his shy lover. She had the feeling he would need it. She glanced over at her brother, wondering if she could predict her twin’s behavior for the evening. She felt better if she could be mentally prepared for what kind of messes she might be asked to clean up later. Indeed, Zakai seemed to have chosen his target, his unnerving sea-green eyes focused with a single minded intensity. She felt a chill go through her and thought, for a moment, about advising him otherwise, but had a feeling it wouldn’t do any good. It would be interesting to see if he had chosen the ripest target in the room or if he was only wasting his time trying to seduce the master of the house.

[\ “Where’s the rest of the wine?” Kallias looked up at the question, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The slow-roasted kids were almost ready to serve; so far the guests had been gorging themselves on breads, dates, exotic fruits and, of course, wine. The fire pit would soon be just embers, but for now it was a smothering heat in the summer night. “Ah, I believe it is in the second storage room on the right. Have we finished the first allotment already?” It seemed they had underestimated the number of guests, or at least the thirst; Kallias wasn’t expecting to have to pull out the reserves until after the kids had been served. The slave who had asked about the wine answered in the affirmative and Kallias shook his head in wonder. “Make sure you let the taster have a sip before you take that out,” he reminded the slave who nodded obediently at what was

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a fairly unnecessary order. No one would dare incur the wrath of the feast’s host by serving soured wine. Kallias stepped back from the fire pit and nodded to two of the servants to take the kids out. The meat would be arranged on platters overflowing with herbs and vegetables and taken out to the feast once it had cooled enough that the guests wouldn’t burn their hands and tongues on it. Kallias took the opportunity to peek out at the banquet and get a feel for the mood and how things were going. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as a singer finished up a song and the musicians along the wall paused for a moment. Kallias guessed the E’ean dancers must be coming back next and looked to the head table to check on Viden and the boy. The feast might be a rousing success as far as the guests knew, but Kallias remembered that Viden had not slept in his own bed the night before. Viden looked happy enough—trying not to appear as preoccupied with the boy as he clearly was—and if the rosy flush on his cheeks was anything to go by, the boy had been downing a good portion of that rich, red wine that was flowing so freely. As Kallias watched the two E’ean dancers stride back onto the floor, this time together, he felt the shift of a small presence beside him and looked down. There was a beautiful little girl sitting there and he blinked in surprise. After a moment, he thought he remembered seeing a woman tuck the girl into a corner and tell her to stay put and be good. A closer look revealed that both of her feet turned inward grotesquely, the ankles and calves twisted and atrophied. She must have crawled over from the corner, or dragged herself. He wondered why he hadn’t seen her move. “Well, hello,” he said, amused when she didn’t so much as look at him. “What’s your name?” “Yeira. That’s my mommy,” she said with grave seriousness, pointing to the dancers. Kallias assumed she was pointing to the woman. “And is that your daddy with her?” he asked.

EVERY GOOD THING 77 “No,” she answered with a solemn shake of her head. “He’s my uncle.” Kallias nodded wisely and she continued, still in her same too-old voice, “Mommy says he needs to learn to keep it in his pants.” Kallias thought he was going to swallow his tongue and tried to cover his sudden bark of laughter with a cough. Yeira didn’t seem inclined to say any more, however, and Kallias contented himself with simply observing. He could see how Yeira’s mother might say that about her brother, just from watching the way the man flirted and tempted several of the guests at the tables, steadily working his way toward the head of the table where he did a very suggestive dance obviously meant for Viden. Viden watched appreciatively and handed the man a coin, which the man tucked away with a flourish before blowing a kiss off the tips of his fingers. Viden laughed, but the boy beside him went even redder than he already was and took a long gulp of wine. Apparently, the dancer had given the guests an idea. Kallias didn’t see who started it, but someone shouted out, “Give us a kiss!” and it didn’t take long for others to pick up the chant of, “A kiss, a kiss!” Viden turned to the boy, whose eyes went wide with panic. Kallias saw the blush spread all the way down his neck and splotch over his chest. Viden hesitated, a look of profound sadness ghosting over his face, and the guests’ chanting grew louder, more demanding. Some of the men were banging their cups on the table. Just when the boy looked like he was considering getting up and leaving, the E’ean dancer held his hands up and called the guests’ attention to himself. “It seems the boy is a bit... reticent,” he said loudly to be heard over the tatters of noise that were still weaving through the crowd. “And to force a kiss on the unwilling would be unseemly and cruel.” The boy hung his head and Viden looked away as the crowd booed, but the dancer quieted them again.

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“So,” he said, grinning widely as he turned to Viden, “Kiss me instead.” Well, thought Kallias with amusement as the dancer leaned down to offer his lips to Viden and the guests clamored with approval. This could get interesting.

CHAPTER TEN Sleep was like a charm of the gods, a shimmering veil hovering over the young man’s face. He was waking slowly, drowsy and endearingly bemused by every new stimulus that greeted his mind as it stumbled out of his dreams and then back into them. He had such beautiful features, lashes that fluttered richly against his skin, lips that curved softly and invitingly. Enitan tried to feel guilty for the warm desire that spread through him at the sight and failed. He spread a broad hand over the young man’s belly and smiled when it elicited a twitch and incoherent mumble from the sleeper. “Good morning,” Enitan rumbled, and Arieh’s eyes shot open in surprise. “Oh! Mas—Si—Enitan,” Arieh stammered and Enitan found himself more amused than frustrated that Arieh had corrected himself twice before using Enitan’s name. At least he is using it at all. It was something of a miracle, Enitan thought, that they were even waking up together in the same bed. The night before at the banquet, when the E’ean dancer had offered him a kiss—and more, as was obvious to anyone with eyes—Enitan had been sure he was going to give up on Arieh. Even drunk on the heady wine he had been gulping all evening, Arieh had been too reluctant to kiss him and Enitan had already promised himself that he would free the boy from his obligations as a pais unless Arieh showed signs of having a change of heart. “Does your head hurt?” Enitan pitched his voice low, stroking Arieh’s hair off his forehead. “You had a lot to drink last night.” Arieh flushed at the reminder but shook his head silently, his wince as he did betraying the lie. Enitan did recall forcing a good bit of water down the boy, especially when it had become obvious that he’d had too much wine far too quickly. In fact,

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despite Arieh having been served only water and watered-wine once the meal was served, the young man had still been noticeably inebriated when they had turned in for the night. Enitan chuckled with the memory. “At least you slept well,” Enitan said fondly, brushing his thumb over Arieh’s eyebrow. Arieh colored uncomfortably at the intimate gesture and looked away, and Enitan bit back his disappointment. They were making progress, even if it was slow and painstaking. At the very least, Arieh had retained and very nearly proven his place as pais. When the E’ean dancer had leaned down to kiss Enitan, Enitan unhesitatingly took the man up on his offer. He was stung from Arieh’s rejection, hopeless that it would ever be any different, and the E’ean was quite beautiful. There was a stab of guilt, certainly, but he had brushed it away and accepted the kiss. The E’ean had been skillful, as talented as any of the boys Enitan had paid for his pleasure, but he found he resented it, which made him angry. He had barely heard the bawdy cheers of his guests, the call for Arieh to join the kissing. It isn’t fair that the thought of him should ruin my pleasure with others when he denies me himself, Enitan had thought, all the more determined to get over the boy. If he didn’t, he might end up hurting Arieh, and as much as it smarted to admit it, he cared for the boy too much for that. Maybe he should sell him after all, or give him to one of his relatives. Seeing him on a daily basis would be a mocking, merry torment. When the dancer released Enitan, he had turned back to the table, hearing the noises from the kitchen that suggested the main course would be brought out at any moment. He hadn’t looked over at Arieh, but he’d thought he’d felt the boy’s eyes on him. Somewhere in the midst of the excitement of the main course being brought out, Enitan had felt a hand tightly gripping his wrist and had looked over to see Arieh staring at him with wide, dark eyes. Enitan had opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Arieh unexpectedly stretched toward him, pressing their mouths together. Surprised, Enitan tried to pull back—he had no desire to see Arieh shaking with sobs as he had the last time they’d

EVERY GOOD THING 81 tried this—but Arieh followed him, stubborn. The guests, distracted by the arrival of food, began to notice, and as Enitan gave in and cupped the boy’s head, he dimly heard the rise of cheers, almost drowned out by the sound of his own pulse in his ears. There had been no more patience left for chaste pecks on the mouth; Enitan opened Arieh’s mouth with his own and showed the boy what a real kiss was like. Arieh clung to his forearms and did his best to keep up, awkward and drunk and clumsy, and when Enitan released him, Arieh had turned redder than Enitan had ever seen him, the blush vivid and vibrant over every inch of exposed skin. There hadn’t been much else in the way of physical affection for the rest of the evening except for the way Arieh would occasionally lean against Enitan’s shoulder as he began to nod off, only to catch himself and jerk upright. In the end, though, Enitan had found it necessary to half-carry the boy—now a young man, having successfully weathered his coming of age ceremony—to bed. The E’ean dancer had followed them into the hall, an inviting smile playing about his mouth. “He doesn’t look as if he’ll be much use to you tonight,” the dancer had purred. “I could come with you, if you’d like...? Or maybe you prefer to have him lying still like that. I can do that, too. I’m good at games.” Those kohl-lined green eyes had glittered with lust and promises. “He doesn’t seem as if he knows how to please a man. I promise you, I do.” It was a tempting offer and had it come earlier in the evening, Enitan probably would have accepted it eagerly. However, things had changed. With an apologetic smile, he’d shaken his head and declined. If the man was so desperate for a little extra coin—and Enitan had no illusions that the man wanted to sleep with him for free—then he had plenty of other guests to choose from, some of whom shared his preferences and would be delighted to have such a comely, graceful man in their bed. Enitan had other things to worry about—like his pais.

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Arieh had been almost completely passed out before they even reached the bedroom, so Enitan had been spared the worry of whether to expect a repeat, or even a continuation, of Arieh’s surprising invitation. Now, however, the young man was awake and trying very hard not to look as confused as Enitan guessed he felt. “Would you like some breakfast?” Enitan asked, despairing of any hint of last night’s affections showing through in the light of day. Still, he kept his hand resting gently over Arieh’s clavicle, feeling the way the flesh stretched so tauntingly smooth over the bones. Arieh only groaned at the mention of food and Enitan felt his forehead again, checking for any lingering warmth from his intoxication. “If you’re not feeling well,” Enitan said, “You can remain abed today. I doubt anyone is going to question it.” This time it was Enitan’s turn to feel warmth creeping into his face when he realized what he’d indirectly implied. Arieh in his innocence didn’t seem to catch it, however, and Enitan wasn’t about to explain the details. “I can get up,” Arieh argued. “I can work.” Enitan chuckled sadly and traced his jawline. “What work would you do?” he questioned, and Arieh paused, frowning. It was obvious the young man was accustomed to having chores to accomplish, that it would take some time to become accustomed to this new way of life where his only duty was love. “Just rest today,” Enitan said softly, withdrawing his hand. Arieh’s eyes followed him, questioning, and Enitan couldn’t help but smile at the edge of blurriness that was still obvious in his expression. A lot of wine for a boy, even if he is in the process of becoming a man, he thought to himself fondly. Unable to contain himself, he leaned closer to Arieh and pressed a lingering kiss on the young man’s cheek, not daring to look at his expression afterward. Enitan rose from the bed and slipped into his summer tunic and light cotton trousers, pausing only at the doorway to look

EVERY GOOD THING 83 back and say, “If you need anything, call for Junia.” A brief hesitation, and then he added, “Or for me.”

[\ Junia, traveling down the hall on her way from paying the last of the leftover expenses from Enitan and Arieh’s celebration, skidded to a stop and could do nothing but stare in surprise when her master crossed in front of her, whistling. She didn’t know that she’d ever heard Enitan whistle. He was a good master, kind and usually gentle, but rarely did the word cheerful apply to him. Her first thought was of Arieh and she wondered exactly what else the inebriated boy had gotten up to after they’d gone to bed. He had looked done for when Enitan carried him off, certainly, but there had been that unexpected kiss at the banquet to consider. Enitan was out of her sight within a moment, but she could still hear his whistling floating down the hall and shook her head. She would pry for details later. For now she had to worry about the household budget until Enitan was next paid, as he’d spent himself nearly poor first on buying Arieh and then on celebrating him. She begrudged him neither of these things, but it did necessitate a trip into the city to meet with the man Enitan paid to keep track of his finances. She angled her path toward the kitchen to check with Kallias about any additional expenses that had been incurred—other than the kids, of course, and the catastrophe of a roasted boar—and nearly collided with a young woman holding a child. A second glance told Junia that this was one of the E’ean dancers from the night before, the one whose partner had spurred Arieh into declaring himself. The woman seemed about Junia’s age, maybe younger, and Junia thought she looked very different in a plain brown tunic, her hair unadorned and her honey-colored skin unpainted. The child was asleep on her shoulder. “Forgive me,” Junia apologized when the woman stepped back suddenly to avoid the collision. “I was lost in my thoughts. It happens often.”

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“There is nothing to forgive,” the dancer said with a slight incline of her head. “I must beg your pardon for being in your way; I came to collect my daughter. My mother’s sister is a cook in your master’s kitchen and was watching over her for me.” Junia nodded. The woman must have been with one of the guests from the banquet. She wondered, momentarily, if the woman’s partner had found anyone besides the master to set his sights on. “I’m glad you had somewhere to keep her safe,” Junia said, her eyes going to the little girl’s dark head. The woman nodded again and moved past Junia, her sandaled feet making almost no noise on the tiled floor. Junia thoughtfully watched her go before continuing into the kitchen. She found Kallias in the center of the bustle, as usual, and waited until he could spare a moment to give her the report on the damages. “We used more of the wine than we expected,” Kallias told her, “But we’d already purchased it so there’s no expense there. You might want to check the reserves before you invite any guests over for dinner, though.” “Thank you,” Junia said, her mind already on other things as she turned for the door. Kallias called her name and she paused, turned. “You asked me about Vatan scrolls the other day,” he reminded her. “I might know where some can be found. My only uncertainty is whether they can be removed into private ownership; I don’t know the Riinean laws on the matter.” His voice sounded strained and his expression was a bit pinched. He hesitated before adding, “I would think twice about letting the boy have them, for the sake of your master’s happiness.” Junia had suspected this but she wanted to hear the Regic’s reasoning for it. “Why is that?” “It seems that your master has... affection for the boy,” Kallias noted. “And that it might be somewhat returned.” He shrugged. “The Riinean holy writings will condemn them both, and it is said that their holy men once commanded great magic, though there have been none in recent years. I hear they used

EVERY GOOD THING 85 to use their magic to bring horrible deaths to law breakers. These days they use more earthly means.” She sighed, nodding. She knew already that her master’s attraction to Arieh was forbidden and had suspected there might be magic to contend with. “I thought as much,” she admitted. “Still, it is a request, and one that I am as yet obligated to fulfill. Please let me know whether they can be obtained.” She wouldn’t give them to Arieh until she had looked them over thoroughly. The information in them might come in useful, however. Kallias frowned but agreed, turning back to the bustle of morning preparation. The religious affairs of the master’s pais were of no personal concern to the cook, of course, and the kitchen couldn’t run itself. Junia put the matter to the back of her mind and headed off to town. The Regic wasn’t the only one with work to do.

[\ Junia had barely left the kitchen when her master Viden strode in, his face an odd study in bliss and frustration. Kallias couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the man’s expression or sigh at being interrupted again. He had a household to feed. “Can I help you?” Kallias asked in what he hoped was a neutral voice. Best not to provoke the man until he knew which of his moods would prove dominant. “Have you seen Junia?” Viden wanted to know, looking around as if he expected to see her hiding in some corner of the kitchen. “I’ve been looking all over for her and she seems to have disappeared.” Kallias couldn’t hold back his chuckle at that. “You just missed her,” he said. “She left just moments ago, headed into the city to take care of some things for you. If you run, you can probably catch her.” Viden twitched as if he would do just that but ended up not moving at all, just bringing his hand up to ruffle his light brown hair. He looked even more perplexed than he had when he’d

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come into the kitchen and Kallias wondered just how amusing this interruption was going to get. “Did you need something?” Kallias prodded gently when Viden stood there looking flummoxed. “Well, I...” Viden blew out a gust of air and scowled. “I was going to have her take a tonic to my pais. He had a lot of wine last night and is feeling it strongly this morning.” Now that’s just sweet. “I can make the tonic,” Kallias assured him. “I have experience with those things myself.” Viden’s eyes lit up for a moment at the solution, then his forehead creased again. “Good, good,” he muttered, already turning toward the door. “I’ll find someone to take it to him.” “If you’ve got a minute,” Kallias interrupted, “I can fix it right now and you can take it to him yourself.” After watching the kentari and his pais the night before, Kallias felt compelled to lend his efforts to assisting their budding relationship. Viden looked tempted, even torn, before he shook his head. “I have to go to work,” he sighed. “If I returned to him now...” The smile that flashed across Viden’s face was a little embarrassed. The kentari shrugged and turned to leave the room. “I’ll send Demic,” he muttered to himself. It wasn’t until the man was out the door that the words sank in for Kallias. Demic? The uppity manslave who resented Arieh’s very existence? Bad idea. He ducked to the door to call the man back, but Viden was gone. Kallias sighed and went digging for the herbs that would go in the tonic for the Riine. Everybody in this house needed detailed instructions on how to get through life, it seemed. He told himself that if Demic hadn’t arrived by the time he was finished with the tonic, he’d have one of the kitchen girls take it up.

CHAPTER ELEVEN In utter defiance of his head, his stomach, and Enitan’s firm suggestion, Arieh was determined to get up and at least pretend to be useful. His body, on the other hand, seemed to agree with Enitan, and Arieh flopped back against the cushions, groaning when the sudden motion jarred his head and made his belly slosh uncomfortably. The room tilted and seemed to twitch, and he tried to decide whether closing his eyes made it better or worse. And to think I used to wonder how “just wine” caused some of our forefathers’ most embarrassing mistakes, he thought, too sick to be genuinely amused. Speaking of embarrassing mistakes... Arieh’s eyes shot open as he remembered, or almost did, something involving Enitan and that horribly bold E’ean dancer. He was certain he’d seen Enitan kiss the dancer; he was less certain of whether he himself had acted on the impulse that followed. He remembered thinking he would be the biggest idiot in the world to make Enitan angry enough to reject him, possibly even get rid of him. There were crueler masters available and it would be unwise to provoke Enitan into helping him discover that. He remembered arguing with himself, telling himself that anything was better than to be the slave (and even then his mind wouldn’t say exactly what kind of slave) to a Keshen, that Ayh would provide for his needs. On the heels of that, he had remembered Junia’s gentle suggestion that perhaps Enitan was Ayh’s form of provision. What sort of wrath might Arieh bring down on himself in his pride and ingratitude? His mind had been too fuzzy with wine to argue the point any further with himself and he’d left debate behind when he realized one thing very clearly through his haze: He hadn’t liked Enitan’s look of disappointment when Arieh wouldn’t kiss him, and he’d hated watching Enitan kiss the dancer.

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Now, Arieh rubbed his hands gently over his eyes, feeling how they burned with unfamiliar exhaustion, and tried to remember whether he’d actually kissed Enitan or whether he’d only thought about it. The memory swam in a sea of wine and he groaned. It was no good, he couldn’t call it up with any certainty. He thought he had, but surely he would remember more details if it had really happened. Details like how Enitan felt, how he tasted, how... He cut off that train of thought. He could ask, he realized. Junia or any number of servants—or Enitan—would remember. His stomach flipped dangerously at the thought and he clamped his hand over his mouth. Asking was not an appealing option at all. Either way, it was sure to be household gossip; maybe if he kept his ears open, he’d hear about it. Arieh lay still for a few moments, breathing gently through his nose and waiting for the unease in his body to calm. He thought when he was feeling better, he would try—slowly and carefully—to get up. No matter what Enitan said, the idea of lying in bed all day held absolutely no appeal. He was used to being active and even if he had no chores, he could certainly find something to keep him occupied. He would talk to Junia about whether he could take on some responsibility with the animals or the garden. You could ask Enitan, something reminded him, but he frowned at the idea. He wasn’t exactly frightened by Enitan, not anymore, but he couldn’t deny being intimidated by him. He suspected that a negative answer would be easier to hear from Junia than from Enitan. The room had stopped spinning quite so wildly, now just listing mildly to the side, and Arieh pushed himself slowly into a sitting position. His head throbbed and he went still, squeezing his eyes shut, and waited for the sensation to cease. “Good morning.” The unfamiliar male voice startled him and he jumped, yelping, then groaned as the reaction jolted him all over again. He hadn’t even heard the curtain swish open. He managed to open his eyes in time to see the slave he’d seen accompanying

EVERY GOOD THING 89 Junia once or twice, the one who had ignored him so flatly, and fought the desire to whimper. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d like to see less at the moment except perhaps that awful dancer. “Good morning,” Arieh managed to answer, his voice hoarse and rough even to his own ears. “The master said you were feeling a bit... unwell.” The man’s voice was faintly smug, disapproving, and Arieh winced at the reminder. “I’m feeling better,” Arieh insisted, and while it wasn’t exactly a lie, it was definitely stretching the truth. He didn’t like the idea of this man having the upper hand. He didn’t know why, but unlike with Junia or even Enitan, all his instincts rebelled against leaving himself vulnerable. The man shifted, holding out an engraved metal cup. It looked to be bronze, inlaid with ribbons of silver. Arieh blinked at it, feeling his forehead crease. He’d seen fine dishes at the banquet, of course, but that had been a special occasion—not to mention he’d been a little preoccupied. Still, Arieh was used to earthenware, and the appearance of this goblet confused him. The slave’s expression shifted to one of extreme distaste as he thrust the cup forward again. “It’s tonic,” he explained in a dry, flat tone. “For your head.” Arieh took the cup gingerly, still confused as to why fine dishes were being used outside of a formal setting, and stared into its milky gray contents. It looked horrible and smelled worse, and he winced. “The master sent it to you,” the slave added, and Arieh looked up at him quickly. Apparently assuming he’d done his duty, the slave turned and headed back for the curtained door. He pulled the cloth aside and paused, glancing over his shoulder at Arieh. “By the way,” he purred, “your performance last night was really quite... sweet.” The chuckle at the end made it clear the term was not a compliment. “First time kissing like that, I assume?” The man was out the door, the curtain falling back into place before Arieh could respond. Well, that answered that

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question. He felt his face flame and stared down into the cup, steeling himself to try a sip. If Enitan had it sent up to him to help with his head, it would probably do him good, but Arieh was trying to decide if the relief would be worth it. He took a tentative sip and gagged, his stomach lurching rebelliously. He thought about the rude manslave, thought about the way he treated Arieh like an ignorant child, and tipped the cup back for a huge swallow. He barely kept it down, shaking his head reflexively against the taste, but as soon as his throat stopped spasming, he drank the rest of it. With an audible shudder, he set the cup on the floor beside the bed and lay back down on the mattress. He could feel his stomach twisting unpleasantly and hoped the tonic would make him feel better before it killed him. That is, if he didn’t die of shock and embarrassment first. He’d kissed Enitan.

[\ “How’s the brat?” The silky voice was rich with laughter and Demic smirked as he slipped back into his own quarters for a minute. He really didn’t have an excuse to be here, not when he was awake on a working day, no matter how wild the party had been the night before. Still, the master had interrupted a very interesting conversation that Demic wanted to get back to. He supposed he could spare a few minutes; the master was seeing to his duties for the day and Junia had gone to town to see to other affairs. There were times Demic still resented that the Moran slave had been promoted to a higher place in the household than he had, but today was not one of them. The E’ean dancer smiled at him from a rumpled bed comfortably big enough for one and passable for two who didn’t mind being in close quarters. Demic and his new distraction hadn’t minded a bit. The man’s bare flesh and long, dark hair made a pretty picture there on Demic’s mattress. “Ill,” Demic answered Zakai’s question. He was trying for false sympathy but even that fell flat, a fact that did not escape

EVERY GOOD THING 91 Zakai’s notice. The E’ean laughed and it was like bells, light and musical. “You sound as satisfied as if you’d poured the excess wine down his throat with your own hands,” Zakai mused. “Still, I agree. It serves him right. A prize like that and he’s twiddling it away.” Demic huffed. He didn’t want to be reminded that the insolent brat with nothing more than his pretty face to recommend him had laid claim to the master’s bed—a claim he didn’t even want. Zakai laughed again and Demic found the sound much less charming this time. “Don’t make such faces, darling,” Zakai cajoled. “It spoils your wickedly good looks.” Demic knew the man was shamelessly flattering him but the compliment soothed his ragged ego anyway. “Charmer,” he laughed softly, temporarily mollified by the dancer’s attention but unwilling to be the only one whose secrets were laid bare. “And whose place was I filling last night? You can’t tell me you were chasing the master for more than his purse.” Zakai’s face went cold for an instant, anger visibly blazing through him. It was gone in a moment, replaced by an easy leer. “His purse wasn’t the only bulge in his clothing that tempted me,” the dancer winked and Demic fought down his flash of annoyance. So what if the dancer wanted to keep his secrets. The E’ean was skilled at reading expressions though, and he must have caught Demic’s. He rose from the bed, all graceful sinew and smooth, golden flesh, and draped lithe arms around Demic’s neck, nipping at his earlobe. “Not that you are without temptation yourself,” he purred, and Demic returned the embrace, appreciative of the dancer’s myriad skills. Soft lips and quick hands made short work of Demic’s foul mood, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell Zakai he really didn’t have time for another round when he heard Junia’s voice

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echoing down the hallway as she spoke to one of the other servants. He got his hands between their bodies, his fingers slipping on the E’ean’s slick flesh, and pushed. “You have to go,” Demic said, looking around for the purse where he kept his coins. Enitan was one of those generous masters who gave his slaves a personal allowance every quarter, and Zakai was costing him probably half of it. Zakai pouted but allowed the distance, standing casually nude in the center of Demic’s room. Demic shot him an irritated look at his state of undress but held his tongue as he plucked out his money. Zakai didn’t even spare the coins a glance as Demic dropped them on the bed, instead keeping his eyes focused on Demic’s face. “Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Zakai suggested with a small smile. He bent over, deliberately displaying his body, to fish a small pouch out of the clothing that lay crumpled on the floor beside Demic’s bed. He placed the pouch on the mattress beside the coins and gave Demic a sly wink. “In the meantime, keep this as a souvenir of our time together. It is the powder we enjoyed last night.” Demic paused in tying the purse into his belt. The E’ean had rubbed small amounts of the powder into their skin as they made love the night before, saying it was a rare magical item that could only be obtained at one shop in all of the capital city. He’d swiped the last essence of it across Demic’s lip and when Demic had licked it off, pleasure had exploded through his body. Demic couldn’t remember any other encounter, no matter how skilled the lover, when he had felt such overwhelming ecstasy. “You will visit me again the next time you wish to fly, won’t you?” Zakai’s smile was sinful and full of promise. “Perhaps I will.”

CHAPTER TWELVE Kayin Ulfram was a hard man to surprise. He’d been in the Keshen army since he turned sixteen and had spent six years pushing the frontlines of the war further into Ilya, conquering more territory for the nation’s land hungry Inpsu. In the name of the Inpsu, chosen hand of the gods and ruler of the world, go forth and conquer, he thought wryly, mentally injecting a note of sarcasm that never would have passed muster with his commanders on the tour. They’d had to say that every morning of the war. He couldn’t speak for his fellow soldiers but he, for one, didn’t miss that pledge or the war it heralded. He was glad to let it go on without him. He’d joined the army to get out of the isolated small town where he’d been born. People from his village didn’t travel much. He knew old men, in fact, who had never traveled more than a mile outside their own property lines. Kayin wanted more than that and when the army had marched through one winter, he’d signed up without a second thought. The tour had given him his wish by taking him all over Ilya, though he’d been sent back to Dega for less active duty just before they’d invaded the highlands of Mora. He’d seen things no one believed. Even Sobhi, his own wife newly wed to him just last summer, told him how funny she found the stories he “made up.” Once, in Gryon, he’d witnessed a wedding ceremony where the groom had been knifed in the back in the middle of his vows. The murderer, apparently one of the wedding party, had stepped in and married the bride himself. No one had blinked an eye and Kayin was left to assume that such events weren’t all that uncommon among the natives. Far to the east, in Ekias, he’d even seen a small dragon. The beast hadn’t been able to breathe more than a bare puff of flame and was no bigger than a house cat, but he’d been long and scaly with functional wings

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and Kayin could only assume he’d grow to be as large as the creatures of legend. It seemed, though, that his new commanding officer— Enitan Viden, a decorated kentari with his own fair share of battle experience—had the corner market on surprising Kayin. He’d been serving as secondary commander under Enitan for close to nine months now and so far had found himself speechless three times, and that wasn’t even counting the time the whole regiment had gotten dressed up in women’s tunics with flowered garlands for the Feasts of Isara, the goddess of fertility. There had been a lot of very strong wine involved in that particular ritual. The most recent bout of shock and bemusement was caused by nothing more than a friendly greeting, a companionable slap on the back, and a smile as bright as the blazing summer sun that was currently baking them all in their armor. They were all going to be roasted by midday and everyone was already sliding into foul moods because of it. Everyone except their usually ill tempered kentari who, just now, looked like a spring calf in a field of clover. Kayin took a moment to remember how much he’d been drinking the night before. He wondered if, perhaps, he was passed out drunk and this was some wine induced dream. He’d have to tell Sobhi about it when he woke up. She’d laugh herself sick. “Hunh.” The voice to his right had him glancing over at a fellow soldier who was watching their commanding officer with a curious expression. Chare stood next to him, a frown creasing his forehead as the buyers in the slave market milled around them, waiting for the auctions to begin. “You’d think,” Chare murmured, eyes still fixed on Enitan, “he’d be a little more disagreeable this morning. Wine-sick.” Both Chare and Kayin had been at the banquet the night before where Enitan had introduced his new lover, and Kayin didn’t think their host had been a slouch when it came to

EVERY GOOD THING 95 drinking. Still, he himself hadn’t been so drunk as to miss the other happenings, and he shook his head. “I think he’s so lovesick he doesn’t notice,” Kayin said with a small smile. “His pais has bewitched him.” “Do you think so?” Chare narrowed his eyes in Enitan’s direction, pensive. “Perhaps it was the E’ean dancer who kissed him... and then followed him out later. He seemed much less reluctant than the pais.” Kayin hadn’t seen the dancer follow Enitan out after the dinner; he himself had been preoccupied at that point, eyes trailing Enitan’s slavegirl Junia with her exotic pale skin and red hair, the defiant spark of life in her that belonged more in a free woman than a slave. Even his own wife, daughter of lesser nobility, didn’t carry herself quite the way the Moran slave did. He shook his head against the memory of Junia, weighing the new information. Chare had a point—despite the drunken kiss he remembered the pais engaging in toward the end of the night, the E’ean had seemed much more eager and knowledgeable. Still— “I was there when he bought the boy,” Kayin murmured, remembering the coldness in Enitan’s eyes as he’d charged Kayin with the boy’s safety and made it more than clear that his position and perhaps even his life was at stake. Kentaris had the authority to put to death any soldier who failed in his post. It had a way of encouraging vigilance in one’s job. “It was enough to make me believe what they say about Riineans.” “You mean that they’re stuck up and greedy?” Chare asked with some confusion, obviously wondering why the prevailing attitude regarding Riineans was relevant to their current discussion. “You need more variety in your rumors,” Kayin chuckled. “No, I meant the stories about how their race used to control magic. It was like watching a man being put under a spell.” Chare snorted, beginning to move away from him. They had been standing there for a while and even Enitan’s unusually good mood wouldn’t keep him from noticing that two of his officers were chatting instead of patrolling the gathering crowd.

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“I can tell you what spell he was under,” Chare said quietly before he was too far away. “And it wasn’t magic.” Kayin waved him off, not that it mattered since their conversation was a lost cause now anyway and they both had work to do. Kayin didn’t doubt that there was a baser fascination at work in Enitan’s obsession with the Riinean boy he’d purchased here just last week, but Kayin Ulfram had seen a fire breathing dragon flying around the royal courtyard in a palace in Ekias, and he wasn’t ready to discount the possibility of deeper mysteries than pillow dreams.

[\ Junia smiled at the raucous noise of the city as she wove through the upper market, dodging enthusiastic merchants and would-be coin thieves with an artful skill born of long practice. When she had first started coming to the upper market as part of her duties in Enitan’s household, the noise and press of bodies had nearly taken her breath away. Hundreds of voices shouting unfamiliar words, overlapping impatiently, as hands shoved and jostled her with no concern for whether she could keep her feet. Armed with less than five sentences of the Keshen language at her disposal and a handful of coins, the values of which she was marginally sure she knew, she had bullied her way through the streets. She still believed she had learned more of the Keshen language that way than she ever had by formal study, despite how many hours she’d spent with the books Enitan had loaned her. She was looking forward to learning a bit of Riinean from Arieh as well, since the Riinean merchants were shrewd and cunning and she would prefer to be on more equal ground with them. The man she needed to see, a “coin counter” as Enitan called him, was just on the other side of a stretch of particularly vigorous businesses and she was used to the crowds they drew, but she thought she noticed a little more chaos to the energy today. Puzzled, she glanced over her shoulder as she stepped through the heavy door that closed off the bookkeeper’s stonebuilt building from the heat of the Dega market.

EVERY GOOD THING 97 “Is the apothecary having a sale?” she chuckled as she ineffectually knocked the dust from the fabric of her skirts. “I’ve never seen that many people there.” “They’re still there?” Linas asked, sounding vaguely alarmed. “And there aren’t soldiers taking an interest, yet?” He shook his head as if to ask What do we pay them for? “Why should the soldiers take interest in a merchant’s sale?” Junia wanted to know, making herself comfortable on the low couch across from him. Linas gave her a searching look before clearing his throat carefully. “You are aware there is a law against selling magical herbs and charms to Riineans, yes?” Junia raised her eyebrow, silently signaling him to go on. She hadn’t known that, actually, but she wanted to hear more. Linas sighed. “Because of their history with controlling magic, when Riinea was conquered the Inpsu enacted certain restrictions with regards to what materials they were allowed to possess. Peddling certain herbs, charms, or any other materials that might aid in magical ability to a Riinean are strictly forbidden, punishable by severe fines, imprisonment, and in the cases of particularly powerful charms, even death.” “Oh.” That made sense. It didn’t surprise her in the least, as a matter of fact. “It wouldn’t do to have them magically overthrowing Keshen control, of course.” “Of course.” It was impossible to tell Linas’s opinion on the matter from his tone. Junia thought about the crowd outside the apothecary’s and had to admit they’d sounded sort of angry. She’d assumed there had been a near-theft or that the apothecary was out of a particularly desirable herb. “I assume, from the furor, the apothecary has been accused of breaking this law?” Linas finally put down his stylus and folded his hands in his lap, the signal that he would put business aside for the moment to share his knowledge with Junia.

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“All apothecaries in the region are under suspicion at the moment,” Linas confided. “There are… rumors, shall we say, of a Riine with mysterious powers. One might even say… magical.” “Oh?” Linas’s mouth twitched into a smile. He loved being the first one to tell a story. Junia secretly thought he and Kallias would make a dangerous pair. “The official story is that it’s just a rumor that the Riines have invented to rally the faithful, to give them hope and to frighten the Inpsu. There have been stories, though. Men and women—some of them faithful Keshens—who claim to have been eyewitnesses to the man’s miracles. Secretly, the military is being sent to interrogate all the apothecaries in the region. Officially, they’re simply performing a routine examination of the businesses to ensure quality.” “But of course the rumors are out,” Junia mused. “And people want to know.” “Of course.” Linas smirked. “Everyone loves a good story.” “Speaking of good stories,” Junia smiled, all business now. “I’ve got one for you. Once upon a time, there was a Keshen kentari who bought a very expensive boy and threw a very expensive party to celebrate.” “Let me guess,” Linas chuckled. “This kentari had a faithful slave who is now worried about whether her master has a halfpenny left to his name?” “You must have heard this story before,” Junia smiled and Linas shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard the odd variation of it. All right, let’s see if we can’t find a few more coins in your master’s deep pockets.”

[\ The sun was beginning its downward slide, though it was still high and blazing hot, when Arieh finally decided he’d had

EVERY GOOD THING 99 enough of being confined to Enitan’s bedchamber. He had become accustomed to Junia coming to take him around but he’d made up his mind not to rely on her quite so much. Besides that, he hadn’t so much as heard her passing in the hallway. Come to think of it, the part of the house he was in seemed fairly quiet. Everyone must have other places to be, other things to do. Except me, he thought sourly. Inactivity didn’t agree with him. Boredom and a growing sense of familiarity with the house and household bred boldness in him and he stepped into the sandals waiting for him by the doorway as he straightened his tunic. No one challenged him as he padded down the halls. In fact, he barely saw anyone. By the time he stepped into the sunlight in the garden, he was beginning to wonder why he’d ever been so easily cowed by the huge house and the man who owned it—and him. The reminder that Enitan had purchased him led to a startling realization: he wasn’t marked. The slaver’s henna that Abheel-takhar had painted on his hand was fading and Enitan had not replaced it with a brand of his own. He couldn’t recall seeing any visible brands on the other household slaves, either. He wondered if there was some other indication, unfamiliar to his eyes, that Enitan owned them, or if Enitan took their loyalty on trust. Arieh’s meandering path through the garden was bringing him up to the gate in the rear that he had seen on his walk with Junia. High stone walls thickly covered in vines separated the garden from a road. Arieh could hear people talking as they walked past, the occasional rumble of a cart or thudding of livestock hooves. He regarded the gate for a moment, wondering if he could slip through and join the throng beyond, unchallenged and unnoticed. He stepped up to the wooden door in the stone wall and pressed his face against it, peering through the slats. There was a loud jingle and scrape, and he jumped back as he realized there was a soldier standing guard on the other side. Heart

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thudding with the surprise of it, he backed away, reconsidering his ideas of escape. An attempt was sure to fail, and more than that, the guard would tell Enitan. Arieh had no illusions about avoiding punishment if he was caught trying to make a run for it. He might not have been bought for manual labor and Enitan might not have marked him, but it didn’t make him any less a slave, and runaway slaves were always punished. He doubted Enitan would execute him, but floggings were the most merciful sentences he’d ever heard of in such cases. Even if he made it past the guard by some miracle, he was still a Riinean boy dressed in a Keshen tunic and that would draw suspicion and soldiers. Arieh was sure Enitan had invited half the Keshen army to their feast; someone was sure to recognize him. No, if he was going to escape, he was going to have to plan very carefully. No sooner had he considered this than guilt washed over him afresh. Here he was, thinking of betraying Enitan’s trust in him, and after the man had given him so much. His flesh bore no brands or piercings, he was free to wander about the house and grounds as he pleased, and he was expected to do no work. Nothing but allow him the pleasure of your body. He shuddered at the thought and shoved it away, though not with as much conviction as he might have a few days earlier. In fact, he felt his mental fingers linger on the surface of the idea as if becoming familiar with its contours. Frowning, he turned his attention away from the disturbing implications he didn’t want to examine too closely, instead focusing on the riot of plant life growing around him. His parents were farmers and, as the eldest son, he had a lot of experience with growing things. However, their fields had been sown with vegetables, fruits, and grains, not decorative flowers and trees like the ones blooming here alongside twisting paths made of stone. He could hear water burbling from the fountain nearby—water for the simple purpose of sparkling in the sun, not irrigating the vegetation. It all seemed so indulgent, almost wasteful, in its beauty.

EVERY GOOD THING 101 Much like the rest of the house, come to think of it, and much like himself now. A perfectly good, strong bodied young man, and Enitan wanted him to sit around and be pretty. The thought rankled. He wanted to do something. So do it, he told himself. Either make a plan to leave, or plan how you’ll stay, but stop expecting someone to tell you what to do. You’re a man now, act like one. He sat down on the black stones that made the garden path. It seemed a simple dilemma and one that he shouldn’t even have to consider deeply. Leaving would take planning, though, and more information than he had right now. That seemed to make up his mind—he would wait and watch until he knew his options better and in the meantime he would concentrate on making sure no one guessed what he was planning. That decided, he let his eyes wander around the area he could see, eventually twisting to look behind him. There, through a tangle of healthy, leafy branches laden with fruit—So not everything is merely ornamental, then—he caught sight of what looked like a wall. It looked different than the high stone wall on the outer edges of the garden, more decorative and inviting. Arieh’s curiosity got the better of him and he pushed himself to his feet, dusted himself off, and made his way through the plant life toward the wall. Up close, he could tell it was made of smooth stone, like marble, set with intricately carved leafy, blossoming vines. He followed the wall, one hand out to skim over the stone leaves, until it led him to a wrought iron gate that stood implacably closed against him. The gate looked as if it hadn’t been opened in a while and Arieh wasn’t sure it could—or should—be opened. Through the artfully twisted bars, he could just catch sight of what must have been a private garden. It was overgrown now, the exotic plants running untamed over the pathways of patterned colored stones. Arieh could see black stones like the ones that made up the path in the main garden, along with white, rose colored, the occasional gray-blue, and an odd sparkle or two that looked like flecks of gold.

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A flash of white, like the edge of a statue, toward the back of the enclosed space caught his eye and he craned his neck, trying to peer around the gate to see it more clearly. It just barely eluded him and he braced his weight on the gate in an attempt to gain a better angle. The gate shifted with a loud, squawking protest and he jumped in surprise. It did open, after all. Not stopping to think about what he was doing, he wrapped his hands around the bars and leaned back, pulling with all his weight behind it. With a groan and a shudder, the gate relinquished and opened. It stuck again before he’d opened it very far, but there was enough space for him to slip through, and that was all he needed. Alight with curiosity, he ducked through the opening. The statue was of a young woman dressed in a formal tunic. The sculptor had draped her with stone flowers, but now there were vines of living roses climbing up her figure, like delicate yet greedy green fingers cupping her full breasts. Her arms had once been outstretched in joy or welcome, but now they were broken, jagged stumps sticking out into the air. Parts of her face had also been chipped away, but what remained was lovely. Her expression seemed wistful, sad, and somehow pleading, and Arieh was overcome with the sudden urge to put the garden back to rights. His fingers practically itched with it. He knelt at the base of the statue and began pulling up the weeds that were growing around her bare alabaster feet, careful not to disturb the roses. He smiled at the familiar feel of dirt caking around his fingertips, under the nails, and the comforting smell of loamy earth and green life. Arieh made himself comfortable on the ground and got to work.

[\ Demic tried to tell himself that if the boy was lost, it wasn’t his fault. Sure, the master had asked him to keep an eye on the brat, but he didn’t have time to babysit him. He did still have a job to do and hadn’t that extravagant party been the master’s version of a wedding feast? Who ever heard of restricting a bride in her husband’s house?

EVERY GOOD THING 103 All this didn’t soothe his nerves as he saw the angle of the sun and realized how soon the master would be returning home. No one had seen the Riinean brat for hours, and Demic was trying to decide whether the brat could have escaped and exactly how slowly the master was going to kill Demic if he had. The animals were undisturbed in the stables, including the master’s horse, who whickered disapprovingly at Demic’s lack of treats. Demic shook his head; the master spoiled that horse, much like he did everything else he owned. Some pets will stay because they’re doted on, Demic scowled to himself, but some are wild and should be kept under tighter rein. Not that he would be foolish enough to voice this philosophy if it turned out that the master’s pais really had gone missing. He made his way through the garden, headed for the back gate but keeping an eye out for the boy along the maze of paths on the way. He didn’t think Arieh could have slipped out the gate without the guard on duty noticing and raising the alarm, but perhaps the brat had convinced the soldier that he had permission to be out and about. He was just about to open the gate to find the guard and ask when he noticed something amiss. Frowning, he stepped to the side, peering around an almond tree to get a better view. What he saw surprised him and drew him forward, setting up an internal battle. The gate to Claudia’s garden stood open, and he would lay a heavy wager on the boy being inside. Demic stood still for a moment, considering his options. The last time anyone had dared enter Claudia’s garden, the results had been catastrophic. Enitan had once employed a fulltime gardener who lived on-grounds like the rest of the slaves, unlike the hired man who came in every third day now. The man’s name was Taavi, and Demic had been fond of him. Taavi not only had a talent for growing things, he had an unparalleled passion for them. He had been given free reign of the main gardens, but the walled-in garden at the back was off limits. Taavi had his hands full for several months simply

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restoring the main gardens, but once the plants under his care were thriving, his natural curiosity had gotten the better of him. Demic wasn’t an expert at plants, but Taavi loved to talk about them and Demic loved to listen to him. Taavi wasn’t really interested in him, but Demic enjoyed the illusion of desire provided by their indulgent friendship, even if the gardens were all Taavi seemed to want to talk about. “I can’t believe they’re in there, just walled up like at,” he’d said one night, gesturing with the cup of wine Demic had poured for him. “That is a rare, delicate plant that should be carefully tended. It needs attention.” He was talking about the pale golden flowers that grew up in the shadows of the wall on a running vine the color of deep night. Demic remembered that the master’s sister had planted those not long before she died. She’d been enamored of them, and to Demic’s knowledge, the master had never let her know how costly they were or what he’d had to do to obtain them. “Those were a lot of trouble to smuggle in,” Demic had admitted. “But they seem to be doing all right so far.” It had been two years since Claudia’s death and no one had been in the garden since. All the slaves who had been there when Claudia was alive knew better, and all the new slaves were warned away. Even that Moran slave girl who couldn’t understand more than a word or two of Keshen had gotten that. Demic supposed that the sign of cutting off one’s head was rather universally understood. “I want to go dig them up,” Taavi said, eyes wild with wine and excitement. “Just part of it, just enough to grow a new plant to take care of. Just in case that one dies.” “No.” Demic put a firm hand on the man’s shoulder, shaking him. “You can’t. The master—” “Doesn’t have to know,” Taavi interrupted with a wave. “I won’t take much.” “No.” The fear in Demic’s voice finally got Taavi’s attention. “Did you see the state of the statue inside? How it’s broken?” When Taavi nodded silently, Demic continued, “That was the result of the master mourning his younger sister’s death.

EVERY GOOD THING 105 That garden belonged to her. There are reasons you’ve been warned to stay out.” Taavi had nodded solemnly, staring into his wine cup. “Thank you,” he’d said. “For caring about me.” Demic had been too distracted by the personal affection in that phrase to hear what the gardener wasn’t saying. It wasn’t until later, when it was much too late, that he remembered. By that time, Taavi had already been dismissed, but not before being punished. Demic never knew what the exact punishment was. In truth, he was scared to find out. The master had been more than livid when he’d found Taavi digging up the rare plants, accusing him of thievery and disobedience. In most households, thieves had their hands cut off. Demic didn’t want to think about Taavi without his beautiful hands. Demic shuddered at the memory of the master’s temper— even Junia had given him a wide berth for weeks after the incident. Now, from his place beside the almond tree, Demic could see that the Riinean brat had worked his way steadily through Claudia’s garden, cleaning up the beds. Even from this distance, Demic could see that he had been pulling up the weeds that threatened to choke out the exotic plants the master had bought for Claudia. He was torn. If the master found his pais in the forbidden garden, perhaps he would finally see the boy for the arrogant brat he was. On the other hand, what if the master blamed Demic? He had been supposed to keep an eye on the boy, and as far as he knew, no one had remembered to tell Arieh that the enclosed garden was off limits. What if Demic was a convenient scapegoat to keep from the master from having to punish the boy? Before he could decide what to do, he heard raised voices and paused, listening. The master. And Junia. They were coming through the garden, both of them calling for Arieh. He knew, suddenly, that he had to show himself as innocent. He went back to the gate, following a side path back to the main walk, where he called out. “Master? Junia?”

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“Demic!” That was Enitan, who rounded a corner in the path and stopped, staring at him. Junia came in from another small pathway, worry written on her face. “Where is Arieh?” “I came out here to look for him myself,” Demic said earnestly. Junia gave him a sharp look, as if trying to see into his thoughts, but Enitan simply pushed past him and she turned to follow the master, leaving Demic to trail behind them. The world seemed somehow bent, the colors slightly off, and Demic mused briefly that he felt as if he’d been partaking of the dreaming milk that the priests at Demhir’s temple gave petitioners to help them hear the laborer god’s answers to their questions. He watched as if from a distance when Enitan saw the open gate and moved toward it, Junia standing to the side and looking worried. There’s nothing you can do for the brat now, Demic thought. Nothing at all. He drifted on the blissful detachment that had overcome him, realizing that the small smile he wore was inappropriate but not caring. “Arieh.” The boy looked up at Enitan’s dangerously quiet call. His hands were full of weeds, speckled brown with bits of earth all the way up to his elbows. The white tunic he wore, embroidered on the neckline, sleeves, and at the hem with Enitan’s family insignias, had two round places above his knees where he’d been kneeling. “Ma—Enitan.” Arieh sounded surprised but not afraid. Demic frowned, wondering if he was imagining the way the boy’s features brightened. “You’re home.” Demic could not see his master’s face, but he saw the way the muscles in Enitan’s back tightened, his shoulders shifting. “This garden,” the master said hoarsely, hands clenching at his sides, and Demic held his breath. Here it was. “This garden… is yours.” The world snapped back into its cold, hard lines and precise colors with a speed that made Demic’s head pound. What?

EVERY GOOD THING 107 Enitan turned without another word, leaving the garden with a posture that suggested he might be made of the same alabaster as the statue that now cast its shadow over a confused, dirty Riinean slave boy. Demic felt cold.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Enitan left the garden, left Arieh standing there with Junia and Demic, and headed straight for his room. He was still wearing his dusty armor from the day and his skin was streaked with gray where rivulets of sweat had run through the dirt. He thought about a bath but decided he was too weary. All he wanted was his bed. He let his armor drop in a corner of his bedroom, promising himself he’d pick it up when he was finished. He paused to swipe a wet cloth over his body, scraping away the worst of the day, and then reached for a lightweight tunic the color of battlefield blood. Junia would explain everything to Arieh, he knew. He wondered what sort of light she would paint it in; his sister’s mysterious illness, the sharp decline into death, Enitan’s helpless rage at the gods and the fates, his refusal to allow anyone into the gardens that she’d loved. He wondered what Arieh would make of the gift. Enitan wasn’t sure he knew what to make of it himself. He had been awash in the cold sensation of anger mixed with dread when he’d seen his pais in that garden, so carefully weeding the flowers that Claudia had loved. Shock and anger at the barrier being breached, of course; unexpected tenderness at his care for the neglected plants. And then there was the bright, almost happy surprise when he’d looked up and seen Enitan… “Enitan.” Arieh’s voice snapped him out of his reverie and he looked up, one arm caught and tangled in the folds of his tunic as it hung half off his body. With a grunt of frustration, he got into the garment properly as Arieh stepped further into the room, tying the curtain shut behind him to give them privacy. “Why?” There was real fire, spark and energy in Arieh’s posture, in his face and mannerisms. Enitan felt that he was finally getting a glimpse of the young man without the layers of

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confusion and anger that had haunted him the entire time Enitan had known him. It was striking. He knew Arieh was probably asking something about Claudia, about the garden, but Enitan didn’t know what, specifically. “Why what?” “Why did you give me your sister’s garden?” He sounded almost defensive, wary, and Enitan hesitated, not knowing how to tell him. How could he explain something he barely understood himself? Claudia had been the last surviving member of his immediate family. He had closed off that garden because it held the memory of her and he could not bear to lose that too. When he’d seen Arieh there, surrounded by Claudia’s flowers at the base of her statue, he hadn’t felt as if Arieh had been erasing Claudia’s memory. It felt as if he’d been honoring it. There was only one way Enitan could think of to describe it to his pais and even that was incomplete. “Akienda.” Arieh blinked at the unfamiliar word. “What… I don’t understand. What does that mean?” “It is an old word,” Enitan said slowly. “The banquet was your avehasi. It was my akienda.” Arieh leveled him with a meaningful look that clearly said, That didn’t help much. “Akienda… it is hard to translate, but aki is like a family member, a friend who is close enough to become family. Enda is ‘from now on.’ It is a ceremony in which someone from outside is brought into the family. It’s permanent.” “Akienda.” Arieh tried it out, rolling the syllables on his tongue. A shiver ran down Enitan’s spine and he felt the echo of his own words. It’s permanent. “I’m your slave,” Arieh said. “How can you call me family? How can you give me what was once the joy of your sister’s life? I don’t understand. Family is sacred to Riines.”

EVERY GOOD THING 111 “As to Keshens,” Enitan assured him. “Are you familiar with the word pais?” Arieh shook his head. Enitan could almost feel the shift between them, the way Arieh no longer acted like a frightened child but an equal who expected an answer. Maybe Enitan’s treatment of him had been effective after all. Akienda. Family from now on. “Only that it is what I’ve been called since the day you bought me. I assumed, from the way it was used, that it meant pleasure slave.” Arieh’s lower lip curved in a moue of distaste and Enitan wondered if he should feel guilty for wanting to taste it. “Only in its most surface sense,” Enitan corrected. “A pais is usually bought, yes, but then so are most brides. Some are bought with money, others with political promises or family connections, but women are sold to their husbands. A pais can be bought from his parents for a high enough price, obtained of his own free will or else, like you, purchased from someone who owns the rights to sell him.” Enitan paused, walking over to the wall where an intricate mural ran around a large window overlooking the gardens. He didn’t speak for long minutes and Arieh waited silently behind him. “A pais is like a male bride. Different men treat their wives differently, and the same is true of pais. One man may treat his pais like a slave, another like a treasure.” He turned then, catching Arieh’s stare with his own and holding it. There were things he should have told his lover already. “As my pais, you are my family. You have the right to command the servants, to make decisions in many areas. You cannot decide to dismiss a servant, but you may hire a new one. You may not have full authority over my finances, but you are given a generous allowance to do with as you please.” Arieh looked as if he’d been doused in cold water, surprised and dazed. He sank back against the wall as if he would fall down without the support. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

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Enitan looked down at his feet. “I was planning to release you from that position.” He cleared his throat, preparing to lay bare the last of the secret rights he’d been keeping in reserve until he knew whether Arieh would stay as his pais or whether he would have to admit defeat. “An unwilling pais is an affront to the gods I serve and a blight on a household. I had hoped to win you in time, but until last night, I have had no reason to believe you might be willing.” “You were going to free me?” This time Arieh couldn’t hide his disbelief and Enitan smiled wryly, looking up at him again. “Not completely,” Enitan admitted. “I know no man wishes to be bought or sold. No free-born son would ever wish to be slave to another. But I cannot bear the thought of you as a slave in another house, and I cannot afford to buy you again if you were sold again to Abheel-takhar or someone else the next time your parents cannot pay their taxes.” “I was going to escape.” The words spilled from Arieh’s mouth with startling abruptness and Enitan noticed the boy’s eyes widen as if he hadn’t planned to say them. “I was planning to try. I’m a slave who can’t even do what you bought me for, and today I was making plans to betray every trust you’ve placed in me and run away. I was serious about it.” He hesitated long enough that the past tense of Arieh’s confession filtered in, making him smile. “Do you still wish to make me family?” Long moments passed in silence as Enitan wrestled with himself. Telling the young man his rights was one thing. Revealing exactly how vulnerable he’d made himself to a poor farmer’s son, a slave barely beginning his manhood, was another entirely. But if he was serious about Arieh being his pais, about the ceremony having been their akienda, then he could not be less than honest. “I would not punish you,” he said at last, his voice cracking. “I cannot blame you for not wanting to be at my mercy, even though I am at yours.”

EVERY GOOD THING 113 The admission seemed to straighten Arieh’s spine, adding confidence to his features. He suddenly looked as if he really had come of age. “You mean it?” Arieh challenged, crossing his dirty arms across his chest. Enitan couldn’t help but notice the dark smudges left on the white cloth. “You would not chase me down, trample me in the streets? Nail me to a pole as an example to other rebellious slaves?” “I would not trample or crucify you.” Enitan grinned then, letting the most predatory of his emotions come through in the flash of teeth. “I never promised not to chase you.” To his everlasting surprise, Arieh smiled. “And what would you do if you caught me?” The sudden shift in Arieh’s attitude—Is he flirting with me?— caught Enitan off guard and he stood in silence long enough that Arieh’s bright smile faded and his eyes flickered away, embarrassed. Stepping forward, Enitan caught the strong chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his first finger, caressing gently and feeling the soft slide of skin, the dry grit of dirt. “Keep you,” he answered, biting back all the descriptions of just what “keeping” would entail. Arieh met his eyes then, at once shy and mischievous and tying Enitan’s heart into knots. “I suppose I might as well stay then,” he murmured, “If you’re only going to bring me back anyway.” It was an invitation to a kiss if Enitan had ever heard one, and this time Arieh didn’t pull back or push away, didn’t cry. He opened his mouth and let Enitan in, though he didn’t respond much and when he did, it was clumsy. When Enitan pulled back, his own breath short and harsh, he noticed the color that had crept into Arieh’s face, but the young man didn’t try to resist, even though Enitan could read his discomfort in the awkward tension of his muscles. With another soft kiss, Enitan let him go and stepped back, joy bursting in his heart like the thunder of birds’ wings taking flight in a meadow. Arieh turned away and left the room, but not before Enitan saw the small smile on his ruddy face.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN The Riinean enclave was not a place for a foreigner, least of all an unmarried E’ean woman with a child, who earned her living with her body. Sariyah knew this and was usually very careful about avoiding it, but today it couldn’t be helped. Someone had told her about an apothecary on the far side of the enclave that sold illegal medicines and charms. Any material that could be used for spells stronger than kitchen magic were forbidden for sale anywhere in Keshe, but she knew some people still found them. One of those people had been the wife of Yeira’s father. Sariyah had been much more naïve then, a frightened fourteen year old with a child growing in her belly. She and Zakai had already been struggling to feed themselves and she had been terrified at the idea of another. She had foolishly gone back to the nobleman in whose bed the child had been conceived, hoping for help. Instead, his wife had thrown her out of the house and sent a curse after her, sealed with the flash of the necklace she was wearing, one that Sariyah realized too late was a talisman. The woman had declared a terrible curse on the child and at first Sariyah had thought it meant the child would die. Despite her fears of becoming a mother and a guilty wish not to have the child, her own mother had taught her that it was a curse of the gods if your first child was stillborn. Yeira had been born healthy, but before she was a year old a high fever had taken her. It had ravaged her body, and Sariyah blamed it for Yeira’s slowness to speak and respond, though her mind seemed quick enough. But her daughter’s legs had been twisted, mangled. She would never walk, let alone follow in her mother’s footsteps and dance. Doctors had prescribed treatments with little hope, and none of them had helped. Her speech had improved a little over time, but the rest still plagued her. Medicine could do no

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more for her and Sariyah placed one last, tenacious hope in the mysteries of magic. Sariyah hoped the apothecary would have something that could counteract the woman’s curse. She could have taken the long way around, avoiding the enclave altogether, but it would have taken her two days and Marit could not be expected to look after Yeira for that long. Junia, who practically ran the household that employed Marit, was kind and more than tolerant of Sariyah leaving Yeira in Marit’s care from time to time, but Sariyah knew better than to wear out her welcome, no matter how warm Junia was to her. A few days after she and Zakai had danced for Junia’s master’s feast, she’d been hired by one of the soldiers who had attended the banquet. She’d had no choice but to leave Yeira with Marit again, and had encountered Junia when she’d returned, as she had the first time. Junia had assured her that Marit would not be in trouble for looking after the child and had invited Sariyah to return anytime she needed. In the two months since that conversation, Sariyah had seen Junia every time she’d left Yeira at the kitchen or collected her afterward. She could feel her cheeks grow warm thinking about the red-haired Moran slavegirl. Junia was strong and capable; were it not for the bands in her hair and the symbols on her tunic, no one would have ever guessed she was a slave instead of the mistress of the house. Seeing her always made Sariyah want to prove that she was just as strong, and it was in part that feeling that had prompted her to choose the more dangerous route today. She’d worn a plain brown rough cloth tunic in the style of a Riinean laborer, trusting her unbound hair to hide her face and the green eyes that would betray her race. She was almost to the other side of the Riinean enclave and was hopeful that she would make it through unnoticed when a dull pain exploded in her shoulder. A stone half the size of her fist clattered to the ground by her feet and she gave up trying to make it through unnoticed, instead running toward the enclave’s border. Two more stones, larger by the feel of them, hit her back and she stumbled.

EVERY GOOD THING 117 “Kharike!” The shout from behind her sent a chill of dread up her spine. She didn’t know much of the Riinean language, but she knew that word. Foreigner. Here in the enclave, it was a death sentence. Her way was suddenly blocked by large, angry men, many of them holding stones or hard fruits or vegetables. She turned aside only to find herself hemmed in all around. She thought of Yeira, waiting for her to return, and of Zakai, so lost and angry and lacking natural boundaries. She had to make it back to them. Determination straightened her spine and lent the feeling of strength to her muscles, prepared to fight her way through. A sharp edged rock slammed into her temple, scattering bright sparks of pain through her head. Before she had a chance to regain her footing, two more caught her, followed by a volley of projectiles and loud, angry words. Her ears were ringing with the blows and she staggered, feeling the ground bite into her knees as she lost her balance. Sharp points under a small, solid weight pierced her left shoulder and she felt fresh, hot blood pour from the wounds. Heat exploded across the left side of her face and the stench of singed hair filled her nostrils. The sudden silence that fell was as deafening as the violence before it had been, and though the jarring blows ceased, her body still throbbed with pain. In the stillness, she had time to register the stickiness of blood that oozed from multiple wounds, the way small flies were already hovering close to the coppery scent, and the bare edge of a breeze that teased its way through her torn tunic. She opened her eyes but could only see dim moving shadows and blinding bursts of light. It was all shaded red. The weight on her shoulder lifted with a flapping sound and she shuddered, wishing she could see. The murmuring and shifting sounds around her indicated the crowd might be moving and she raised shaking hands to her eyes, wiping at them. The thick smear of blood under fingers told her that the

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wounds on her head were probably responsible for her current blindness. A dark shape moved directly in front of her and she tilted her head back, trying to see it better and in more detail. It was roughly the shape and height of a man, though it almost looked as if he had two heads. “Are you lost, daughter?” the man-shape said, his voice a gentle rumble. He didn’t sound mocking, simply concerned. “I was on my way to… to the river,” she said, remembering at the last moment not to mention that it had been the apothecary beside the river she’d actually been headed for. “Are you aware that it is against Riinean law to allow foreigners inside the boundaries of the enclave?” Sariyah swallowed thickly and blinked, wishing once more that her vision would clear. Maybe the blood wasn’t the only reason she couldn’t see; maybe the blows to the head had affected her in other ways as well. “Yes,” she finally whispered. The man crouched in front of her, one hand coming to rest on her right shoulder. She could see his features a little better now; he seemed kind, a slash of white in his dark face suggesting a toothy smile. The second head twitched on his shoulder now and gave a little hiss, and she could see that it was some kind of animal. “And what could be so important about the river that you would risk your own life rather than go around by the main road?” “I…” Sariyah nearly choked then. It was as if his hand on her drew the truth to her lips past the excuse of any lies. “My daughter cannot walk. I had heard the apothecary by the river’s edge might have some medicine that would help her.” The man hummed thoughtfully and Sariyah thought she could see him even more clearly now. The animal on his shoulder shifted, leaning in close to her. She could see its narrow face, the bright golden eyes staring at her from rustcolored, leathery skin. She flinched back.

EVERY GOOD THING 119 “Don’t be frightened, daughter,” the man chuckled, his hand leaving her shoulder to reach up and pet the creature. “She’s a kind dragon.” He scratched the back of the dragon’s head for a moment and the animal closed its bright golden eyes. Sariyah could have sworn it wore an expression of bliss. Dragon? Those were only legends told by returning soldiers to amuse their children and entertain politicians at the dinner table who wanted stories of things that were of worth in the countries they were conquering. Dragons weren’t real. What else might it be, then? Her mind reasoned. Why not a dragon? “I don’t believe the apothecary will have anything that can help you,” the man finally said thoughtfully. “But I might. Tell me, was the stone in the woman’s necklace yellow or blue?” Sariyah blinked at him. How had he…? “Yellow,” she answered, stunned. “As I thought.” He covered her ears with both his hands and she felt warmth slide down the sides of her neck. A roaring, rushing sound drowned out everything else; she could see his lips moving but could not hear the words. He removed his hands and smiled at her. “There.” She realized, suddenly, that she could see him clearly. The crowd that had surrounded her was gone and now there were just the three of them in the street—she, kneeling in the dust still stained with her blood, he crouched before her and the dragon perched on his shoulder. “What—?” “Go back to your daughter now,” he said gently, standing and dusting himself off. After a moment, he extended a hand to help her to her feet. “She is whole.” “But…” He touched her chin and turned her face to the side. She winced as the skin pulled tight; it felt as if she’d been burned. She remembered the burst of heat by her face, the feeling of her shoulder being pierced, and looked at the scaly creature with

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small wings and a long, slender tail that wound around the man’s arm. “This will take longer to heal,” he said, his tone apologetic. “But if anyone stops you on your way out, tell them that Ashar Int’ea gave you leave to pass. This mark proves it; this beauty is the only one of her kind here.” He patted the dragon’s head again before he simply turned and walked away.

[\ “Arieh?” Junia’s voice snapped him to attention and he rolled his eyes at himself as he hurried to catch up to her. He’d found himself drifting off more of late, getting lost in his thoughts, but the upper market was not the place to lose himself. Coin thieves were thick as flies in a stable here and he should know better. He’d been doing a lot of deep thinking lately, though. It had gotten to the point that even Enitan teased him about it, tapping his creased forehead and asking him what problem he was solving now. He always smiled and brushed it off, but he was untangling a few mental knots he’d never looked at very closely before. He’d been living with Enitan for a little over three months now, an entire season sliding away while he adjusted. He was getting used to things. It was beginning to feel comfortable, almost normal. He still had moments of panic, though they were becoming fewer and less frequent, when he would expect Ayh to suddenly strike him dead for his faithlessness, but the more days went by without it happening, the less he thought of it. He was even becoming familiar with the other house-slaves, learning their names and being friendly with them as he began to take on the broader responsibilities of a pais. The only problem he ever really had was with Demic. He couldn’t escape the feeling that the man hated him. He never disobeyed direct instruction from Arieh, but he somehow managed to infuse his obedience with so much scorn and disdain that Arieh avoided giving him orders whenever possible. In fact, Arieh kept as

EVERY GOOD THING 121 much distance from Demic as he could, which was difficult considering the man was Enitan’s personal slave. His problems with Demic notwithstanding, the most confusing new development he had to deal with was his body. Once or twice in his life in the Riinean enclave, he’d felt a heat in his loins, a stirring. All he’d ever learned of it was that he was not to touch himself, but only meditate until it went away. It had never been much of a problem, outside of a few halfremembered dreams that left him aching when he woke, but for days now he had felt his body humming like a hive of restless bees. Every night when Enitan slid into their shared bed to sleep chastely beside him, Arieh lay stiffly on his side, tense and confused, and hoped vainly for dreamless sleep. Three weeks earlier, when he had been resting peacefully, he had felt Enitan’s warmth leave him, felt the shift of the cushion when Enitan crept out of the bed. Too sleepy to think clearly, Arieh had mumbled an inquiry as to where Enitan was going. “Only to relieve myself,” Enitan answered quietly, pressing a soft kiss against the shell of Arieh’s ear and making his sluggish, sleepy pulse jump. Half-waking dreams had played behind Arieh’s eyelids while he drowsed, waiting for Enitan to return to their bed. When minutes stretched on longer than it would have taken for Enitan to use the small pot at the far side of their bedchamber, Arieh sat up and found that he was quite alone in the room. Confused, he slipped out of bed, the tile cool against his bare feet, and began searching for Enitan. To his surprise, he found the man in the baths, an expression on his face that looked almost like pain. Enitan’s tunic, hastily thrown on as he’d left the bedroom, was shoved up, leaving his stomach, groin, and thighs bared to Arieh’s view. Arieh paused in the shadows outside the doorway, suddenly unsure of whether to interrupt. One of Enitan’s hands was moving between his thighs, tugging at the flesh there. The only time Arieh had ever been allowed to touch his own penis by the laws of the temple was to urinate. Why Enitan

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should be touching himself in that manner with such a look of agony on his face was outside his realm of experience… and yet somehow he instinctively knew it was an act of lust such that had been condemned by his religion. Sexual relations were limited to procreation. A man’s seed was not to be spilled except in the act of conceiving a child; life was too precious to waste in such a manner, the priests said. Yet, even as Arieh watched, white semen spurted from between Enitan’s fingers, coating his hand, making his penis shine in the flickering light of the torches surrounding the bath. Enitan grunted, the sound low and tormented, and an air of annoyance surrounded him as he shed the tunic entirely and splashed into the baths, washing himself. His motions were short, as if he was displeased with something, and Arieh wondered if the experience had been unpleasant for him. As he’d come splashing out of the water, Arieh had realized that he would be caught spying in a moment and quickly slipped back down the hall to the bedchamber. He had just managed to slow his heartbeat and steady his breathing when the curtain opened with a swish and Enitan came back in. Arieh felt the solid body weigh down the cushion behind him, felt the heat of skin nestle up against him, and lay awake for a long time as Enitan lay sleeping, one arm draped possessively over Arieh’s hip. “Why so solemn, little one?” Junia asked now, letting their shoulders bump together as they walked. Arieh was startled out of his reverie, coming back to himself in surprise. The noise of the market intruded on the quiet of his memories and he cleared his throat. “You’ve barely said a word all day.” “I’m sorry,” he said automatically, feeling embarrassment heat his cheeks. “I’ve been preoccupied lately.” He should be paying more attention, Junia was teaching him how to care for the responsibilities of the household, how to be a pais. “No! Really?” Junia gave him a look of mock surprise, then laughed when it got him to smile. She paused to examine the wares of a metalworker, not looking at him as she added quietly, “The master has been worried about you.”

EVERY GOOD THING 123 The bees in his body, quieter since they’d been at the market, buzzed as loudly as if he’d knocked their hive out of a tree. Little pricks of sensation crawled along his skin, making him want to gasp. He couldn’t explain why the idea of Enitan worrying for him had such an effect, other than perhaps the novelty. As the eldest son and heir to the farm, he was never the one on the receiving end of concern. Eldest sons learned responsibility from the earliest age—being coddled was not part of their fate. He’d learned to hide his own peculiar softnesses, but in the meantime he’d envied the younger children in the enclave and had felt guilty for it. Junia was looking at him carefully and he cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. “I’m fine,” he told her. “Just a little tired.” They’d been in the market since just after dawn and the sun was already past its zenith, but that had little to do with Arieh’s exhaustion. He could have gone for hours if his unrelenting mind weren’t wearing him out. She didn’t challenge him, though, just nodded. “We’ll go back soon. There’s just one more thing I need to pick up first.” She led him on a winding path away from the upper market artisans who made their own wares and toward the lower market, occupied by re-sellers and pawn shops. She stopped at the stall of a peddler whose sign advertised him as a seller of varied odds and ends. “Wait here a minute,” Junia said. Leaving him with all the burdens except the woven basket she carried on her back, she spoke quietly to the young girl tending the stall. The girl yelled loudly for her brother in thickly accented Keshen, then led Junia through a curtain to the back of the stall. Her brother, about Arieh’s age, came out to the front of the stall, pulling a dirty length of cloth off his head and tying it around his forearm. He was covered in streaked grime; his forehead especially was smudged where it looked like he had wiped the sweat from his brow. It looked more like the dust and cobwebs that collect on unused items after a long time than

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dirt, and Arieh thought maybe he’d been unpacking some new inventory from an estate sale or something similar. “Help you?” the boy asked roughly, and Arieh wondered if his command of the Keshen language was poor or if he was just as sullen and rude as he looked. “I’m just waiting for my friend,” Arieh said politely, nodding toward the curtain Junia had followed the boy’s sister through. “She your d’breia?” “My what?” Arieh frowned, not recognizing the word. The boy made a lewd motion with his hands to demonstrate and Arieh shook his head, surprised and a little embarrassed. “No, no. She’s not my lover.” The boy seemed to look more closely at Arieh then, as if he were measuring him or looking for some secret clue. “You have d’brei—lover?” the boy asked, and Arieh flushed. Why would he think that? The confusion must have shown on his face, because the boy pointed to the thin bronze and copper twisted band on Arieh’s wrist. Enitan had given him the bit of jewelry a week or two ago, telling him it would protect him from slavers and anyone else when he went out into the market. “That,” the boy said, shrugging. “Gift from lover. Mean no one else can have.” Before Arieh could even think of how to respond, Junia and the boy’s sister returned to the front. Without another word, the boy tied the cloth onto his head again and presumably went back to whatever he’d been doing before. The wicker basket on Junia’s back looked fuller, heavier, but she offered no explanations, just smiled at him and turned them toward home. Arieh was silent on the way and Junia let him be with only the occasional glance in his direction. He was glad for the burdens he carried, some of the larger items that Junia had purchased, because they kept him from fiddling with the bracelet. The merchant boy’s words echoed endlessly in his mind and made him unable to think about anything else. The boy had known what the bracelet was right away; Enitan

EVERY GOOD THING 125 probably thought Arieh knew what it was, too. It was apparently common knowledge. He had never realized before how little he knew of the world outside the enclave. They’d been encouraged not to know, in fact. The less you knew about any culture other than Riinea’s, the better Riinean you were. Even the merchants in the market were regarded with suspicion because of their familiarity with foreign ways. The merchants were excused, thanks to the way they charged foreigners triple what they charged their own countrymen, but they were walking a fine line. Fear of the unknown had kept most Riineans, Arieh included, from venturing outside the lines they believed existed between themselves and the “faithless.” They had believed the foreigners, especially Keshens, to be sick and depraved, unable to derive any enjoyment from life. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Were it not for the little stabs and twists of guilt that still held him back, Arieh would have been enjoying himself thoroughly. While he was pondering all this and before he quite knew where he was, they were back at Enitan’s house. Arieh carried his burdens into the kitchen where the other servants would put them away. His afternoon was free, and he had half a mind to spend it in the garden. Just as he turned to go, Junia stopped him, holding out a thick package wrapped in oilskin. He saw the empty woven basket at her feet and assumed the package was what she had bought from the last merchant. “This is for you,” she said. “Open it when you’re alone.” Intrigued, he stared at the rectangular object for a moment before he reached out and took it from her. It was heavier than he expected and he hefted it experimentally. “Go on,” she prodded, shooing him toward the door. He moved away, then paused to look back at her. “Thank you,” he said, and she smiled. He decided he would put the package in his room, maybe open it to see what was inside, and if it was something interesting he might skip his walk

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in the garden. When he got to the bedroom, however, the package in his hand was all but forgotten. Enitan, whom Arieh had thought was at work, was pacing back and forth at the foot of their bed. His helmet and chest armor were tossed carelessly in the corner and his bare chest glistened with sweat above his leather uniform trousers. His dirty blond hair stuck up in all directions, disturbed by his restless hands and stiff with dried sweat. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his boots. “Enitan?” The impulse to call him sir or master had faded after their conversation about the role of a pais. Enitan halted instantly, looking up at him. Arieh thought he saw relief and guilt flash behind the feral light in those steelblue eyes. “Arieh. You’re back early.” “So are you. I thought you were at the slave market again today.” Enitan exhaled noisily and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. Arieh arched an eyebrow. He knew well that Enitan found the weekly slave market a bore, but he was usually not this agitated. “I’m being reassigned,” Enitan blurted. “Promoted.” There was a bitter twist to his mouth when he said it that made something in Arieh bristle protectively. “They’ve assigned me to the tax collectors.” Arieh blinked, feeling the ghost of an icy chill finger-walk up his spine. The tax collectors were the nightmares of the city, both inside and outside the Riinean enclave, and Arieh had a very intimate knowledge of why that was. He remembered, suddenly, the sound of his mother’s loud weeping as the tax collectors had taken him from his family home and shuddered. “That’s a promotion?” he asked. “Yes.” Enitan scowled. “As you know, if a family cannot pay their taxes, the tax collectors are allowed to take other items—material goods, animals, crops, people—to make up the debt. But the law says that anything left over from the sale of

EVERY GOOD THING 127 those items over the amount of the taxes is split between the tax collectors and their military guards, seventy parts to thirty parts.” Enitan sighed, raking a hand through his abused hair again. “Of course they take the most valuable thing they can so they will have plenty left for themselves. Most of the soldiers are eager for this duty—their thirty parts of the profit is in addition to their salary. It makes them rich.” Arieh felt something hard and cold in the pit of his stomach. He’d never known that, never known that the tax collectors and their guards profited from collecting taxes. He’d never known that of the exorbitant price Abheel-takhar had paid for him, probably very little went to pay his family’s taxes. The rest padded the pockets of the men who’d taken him from his home that day. “The guard was the one who chose me,” he said suddenly. “The taxmen were going to take my sister, Rahel. She’s two years younger than me and beautiful. She is betrothed to the son of the carpenter who was going to apprentice me. But the kentari saw me and made them take me instead. Said I would bring more of a profit.” Enitan looked stricken and reached out, his hand brushing Arieh’s face before it fell awkwardly back to his side, fingers flexing. “I don’t want to be that man,” Enitan said hoarsely. “I don’t want to take children away from their parents or a man’s livelihood from him when he already can’t afford the charges. There isn’t any justice in it. It isn’t right.” He sighed. “I don’t want to,” he repeated quietly, turning away. Arieh’s chest contracted painfully and he reached out before he knew what he was doing, catching Enitan’s hand in his own. The man stopped and looked at him, an incongruous expression of vulnerability on his face. He was at least a hand taller and several years older than Arieh, his build thick and muscular, but at that moment, Arieh felt stronger, older, wiser. Enitan didn’t waste his opportunity, shifting their hands so that his fingers pushed between Arieh’s and squeezed.

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“You’ve never been assigned to the tax collectors before?” Arieh asked softly, trying to bring Enitan back to the center of cool authority the other man seemed to live in most of the time. “I’m young for a kentari,” Enitan shrugged. “They leave me on the lower assignments for the most part.” “What about the rest of your men? Will they be assigned to the taxmen as well?” “I don’t know. Probably.” Enitan grimaced and Arieh figured that hadn’t been the best avenue of questioning. “Is there any way you can stop it, or maybe refuse the assignment?” A heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Probably not. I can’t really afford to risk my position by refusing. And I can’t stop them, it’s legal. There’s nothing saying they can’t. It’s even encouraged—motivates them to actually collect the debts instead of letting it go.” Arieh thought darkly that there had never been a moment when he’d hated the foreign government more than he did just then. Not that he couldn’t understand the logic, but he wanted to think that a Riinean ruler would have at least stopped short of stealing sons and daughters to pay debts. Enitan’s fingers twitched, reminding Arieh that their hands were still linked, and he forced himself to smile for the other man’s sake. Enitan returned the smile and swung their hands lightly, making the copper and bronze bracelet shift against Arieh’s wrist. “That reminds me,” Arieh said, fixing Enitan with a stare. “This bracelet you gave me…” Enitan looked cautious, as if he expected a bad reaction, and Arieh had to bite back a smile. “A merchant’s son in the lower market told me it means you’ve claimed me as your lover.” He arched an eyebrow as Enitan nodded, still wary. “I didn’t even know. Funny how I grew up all those years inside the capital city of Keshe and still know almost nothing about Keshen customs.”

EVERY GOOD THING 129 A slow smile spread across Enitan’s face, chasing away the stress and worry that had claimed his expression earlier. It made warmth well up inside Arieh, pride that he’d relieved Enitan of those feelings. “I guess we could give you lessons,” Enitan said, eyes sparkling. “For starters, how about an easy one: It’s customary for a pais to give his lover a kiss every now and then.” Arieh blushed furiously but couldn’t help smiling. They’d shared a few soft kisses over the weeks, but Arieh had never initiated one and they were generally tame affairs. He had the feeling Enitan had been going very slowly for his benefit. “Is it?” Arieh answered, still feeling the heat in his face. “That sounds kind of complicated to me. Could you show me what you’re talking about?” Enitan sighed, but this time it was playful, mock exasperation that was completely given away by the happiness shimmering just underneath the serious demeanor. “I guess it won’t hurt just this once. But pay attention, so you know how to do it later.” “I’ll try,” Arieh joked as Enitan leaned in toward him, giving him time to adjust, time to prepare, before warm, dry lips brushed his own. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the pleasant feel. Soft, wet pressure then and Arieh shivered as Enitan’s tongue brushed over his lower lip just before the older man pulled away. “You’re right,” Arieh said thickly, feeling the bees buzzing so loudly in his blood that his own voice sounded far away and distorted. “That was easy.” Long, lazy kisses led to them curling up on the bed, a midday rest still feeling wastefully decadent to Arieh even while he realized that Enitan needed it today of all days. And as the pais, it was his duty to bring as much comfort as he could. Once Enitan was snoring softly, Arieh remembered the package he had set down when he’d entered the room to find Enitan pacing. Quietly, he slipped out of their bed, shrugging to make the fabric of his tunic fall back into place, and went to

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retrieve the package. He wasn’t alone, exactly, but he might as well be. Enitan was out like a snuffed candle. He pulled back the corners of the oilskin, unsure of what he’d find inside. When his fingers brushed supple leather over a harder surface, he thought, Book. Most of the Riinean documents were kept in scroll form, but he’d seen the occasional book of bound paper leaves in the merchant’s tents. They were expensive, which was why the Riinean temple didn’t have many. They didn’t have a lot of extra money since the Inpsu had cut them off from government support as punishment for refusing to worship his gods or bow to him as ruler. The oilskin slithered to the floor with a slick whisper and Arieh squinted at the cover. He’d never been very good at reading Keshen, though he’d learned to speak it well enough. In truth, he’d never been terribly good at reading Riinean, either, though he was much better at that than deciphering these odd symbols. Finally, he managed to make it out. The Collected Books of the Vatan of Riinea for the Private Collection of Krallier Xhaq. Feeling his stomach lurch, he shoved the volume away from himself and threw the oilskin around it hastily. Once the damning title was covered, he crept back to the bed with Enitan. He didn’t want to think about those things anymore; didn’t want to know how badly he was going to be punished for all his transgressions. Skin still twitching uncomfortably, he curled on his side and watched Enitan sleep while he tried not to think about anything at all.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN The shadows had lengthened considerably by the time Enitan woke. His mind felt fuzzy and he had a mild headache, a product of sleeping in the afternoon heat. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt like it was fastened to the roof of his mouth. Frowning, he worked his mouth, managing to call up enough saliva to swallow. His shoulders and back felt stiff and he stretched, hoping to relieve them. His hand bumped something warm and he looked to the side, a smile finding its way to his lips when he saw his pais sleeping soundly, hands tucked up under his chin, mouth open and relaxed in slumber. Gods, but he’s beautiful. Three months of sleeping beside Arieh without touching him more than the restrained kisses they shared had been hell on Enitan’s self control. He’d managed it so far, but every time Arieh smiled at him, touched him, submitted to the light brush of lips on lips or tongue against tongue, it was like adding chips of kindling onto a fire that Enitan was trying desperately to keep banked. He could feel himself stirring now beneath the cool, thin blankets on their bed. The rise and fall of Arieh’s chest, the subtle shifting of skin over his collarbone and the light flutter of pulse visible at the base of his neck drew Enitan’s eye and he wanted desperately to touch. Keeping his hands to himself— he’d made a vow, after all, that he wouldn’t do anything Arieh hadn’t agreed to—he thought about going into the baths to relieve himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found release in the privacy of the bathing pools with Arieh’s image fixed in the forefront of his mind, but today he found he couldn’t force himself to leave the bed. The young man he treasured dearly was still and relaxed beside him, contentment in the slack features, and Enitan couldn’t find it in himself to stop looking at him for any reason, even the touch of his own hand.

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He studied Arieh’s features—the shapely mouth, the long, thick eyelashes, the impossibly smooth, golden-brown skin— and tried to keep his breathing quiet as he felt his arousal begin to build. Slim but broadening shoulders sloped into a narrow chest and slender waist. He couldn’t see the jut of hipbones under the blankets, but he knew they were there. Arieh was in that awkward age where his bones were outgrowing the flesh that covered them; coltish and gangly, and every inch desirable. Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping man beside him, Enitan slid his hand under the blanket and found the hardening flesh between his legs. It was heavy with blood, warm and eager, twitching as it filled. The pressure of his own experienced hand was pleasant, especially while his eyes were roaming Arieh’s tantalizing form. He was taking a risk, he knew; he’d never done this while he was still close to Arieh, where he could be discovered by his pais. He hadn’t wanted Arieh to feel like he was being pressured by Enitan’s growing desire for him. Now, though, the temptation, the pleasure of looking at his lover while touching himself, was too much. He stifled the noises that wanted to rumble out of his chest and throat, but he couldn’t control his breathing, couldn’t stop the way it rasped and hitched, coming in shallow pants as his hand tightened around his length, moving faster. The blanket over him was impeding his movement and he flipped the corner back, exposing his heated flesh to the relatively cool air of the room. Enitan’s eyes fluttered half-shut with the effort of holding back his pleasure; he could barely see Arieh’s shape beside him, his vision blurred with the electricity arcing through his body from the touch of his own hand. Arieh shifted beside him and Enitan froze, holding his breath, hoping the boy wouldn’t wake up. He promised himself that if Arieh only rolled over and went back to sleep, he would go to the bathing pools and finish himself there. The fates had other ideas.

EVERY GOOD THING 133 Arieh’s deep, dark eyes opened, still bleary with dreams and the fading vestiges of sleep. The boy blinked a few times before focusing on Enitan’s face, a lazy smile slipping over his lips. “You’re awake,” Arieh murmured, his voice sounding unbearably sensual slurred with sleep as it was. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Enitan wasn’t sure why he was whispering, but speaking out loud seemed wrong. “Mm, no,” Arieh answered, his long, lithe body moving into a writhing stretch. Enitan heard those youthful bones snapping into more comfortable arrangements, and then Arieh groaned with the pleasure of it, and Enitan couldn’t help the answering sound from his own belly as his cock twitched in his hand. Arieh paused and looked at him, eyes widening as they reached his groin. Enitan almost apologized, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, thick and unwieldy. When Arieh didn’t say anything or move, not even to react, Enitan slowly started moving his hand again, pulling up his length and then gently chafing back down. Arieh’s breathing hitched in surprise. He watched as Enitan did it again, pausing to rub the palm of his hand over the head of his cock, pushing the foreskin back and toying with it a moment. “Does that… does that feel good?” Arieh asked breathlessly, and Enitan felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. “Yeah,” he answered, unable to take his eyes from his pais’s form. “It does.” “Can I…?” Before Enitan even realized what Arieh was asking, one long fingered brown hand was hovering over Enitan’s cock, light tremors running through the digits. Enitan bit back a throaty moan and shuddered. “Please.” Arieh’s touch was light, tentative, almost ticklish as it brushed over the head. Enitan slid his own hand down to the base, gripping tightly in a circle to stave off the new waves of pleasure from Arieh’s uncertain caresses. Butterfly-light,

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Arieh’s fingertips skated over Enitan’s flesh, exploring every surface he could find. Enitan held his breath as Arieh shifted so that his face was close to Enitan’s cock, watching avidly as the flesh responded to his touch. “It’s so hard,” Arieh breathed, the words gusting over Enitan’s skin and making his hips jerk helplessly. The boy was tormenting him. His innocent wonder made Enitan wonder just how strict Riinean laws were; it seemed odd that these things were new to him when he was certainly old enough to have experienced them for himself. While Enitan was pondering this, Arieh’s tongue snaked out, experimentally tasting the flesh he was touching, and Enitan came apart. With a muffled shout, he convulsed, his seed dribbling over Arieh’s fingers and his own and spattering Arieh’s beautiful face. Arieh flinched, letting go and sitting back, blinking in shock as Enitan trembled through the last waves of his pleasure. “Gods,” Enitan groaned, his hand clenching reflexively around his length, tugging a few more times to help himself through the rippling aftershocks. “Gods.” When he looked at Arieh and saw his own white seed streaking that beautiful brown skin, he shuddered deeply and felt his cock give one last dying twitch in his hand. As thought began to return, he felt a brush of remorse and reached up with his clean hand, gently sweeping the ribbons of semen from Arieh’s face. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but Arieh didn’t seem to hear him. “Did that… did that hurt?” Arieh wanted to know. “No,” Enitan assured him quickly, emphatically. “That felt amazing.” “I’ve never… can I…” Arieh stopped, cleared his throat. “We weren’t allowed to touch ourselves,” he admitted with a blush. “I’d like… I don’t know how.” Enitan’s eyes flicked down to where the thin white blanket covered Arieh’s hips and thought he saw a bulge that hadn’t

EVERY GOOD THING 135 been there before. His hands ached to reach out and touch, but he stopped. He’d promised, after all. “Would you like me to show you how?” Enitan asked slowly, hesitantly. Arieh’s eyes were wide and round as bowls, but he nodded, and Enitan had to close his eyes for a moment to bring himself under control. Arieh was more innocent than anyone he could ever remember being with and he would be gentle if it killed him. Slowly, giving Arieh time to back out if he wanted, Enitan reached over and pulled the blanket back. Arieh was still wearing his tunic and Enitan slid his hand underneath the loose fabric, palm caressing the warm skin of the boy’s thigh as he revealed the half-hard cock underneath the cloth. He reached up and took Arieh’s hand in his own, then curled the boy’s fingers around his own shaft. Arieh gasped as Enitan tightened their hands together, pulling up the length. “Oh,” Arieh said, head tilting back. Enitan’s eyes devoured the long, smooth column of his throat before he gave in to temptation and leaned over, brushing his lips across Arieh’s pulse. “Oh.” The sound was more drawn out that time and Enitan could feel the boy hardening further within their entwined fingers. Slowly but firmly, Enitan set their hands to a rhythm that seemed to please Arieh, if the little twitches and moans were anything to go by. Watching Arieh float on waves of previously undiscovered pleasure made Enitan ache sweetly in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he knew that this was what he’d been missing, all those years with the hired boys and the temple rituals; Arieh’s genuine, innocent pleasure filled an aching, empty void that Enitan hadn’t known what to do with. “Arieh,” he whispered, leaning over his lover, stilling their hands. “Arieh,” he said again when the boy’s eyes opened to see what was wrong. “I want to kiss you.” The frown that was creasing Arieh’s face disappeared and he seemed to light up from within. “Yes,” he said. “Please.”

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The kiss began as most of theirs did; gentle, soft, chaste. As Enitan began slowly dragging their hands over Arieh’s flesh again, he prodded the boy’s mouth open with his tongue and tasted every warm, wet inch he could. Arieh was groaning steadily now, his slender body trembling and his breath coming in harsh pants through his nose. Enitan refused to relinquish his mouth, so Arieh’s deep, guttural moan vibrated over his tongue just moments before the hard length of his cock jerked in their hands, decorating their joined fingers and Arieh’s taut, smooth belly. Enitan gentled the kiss then, soothing the swollen lips as his hand gently caressed Arieh through the last shocks of pleasure. He felt apprehension tightening his belly as the blaze between them cooled a little. What if Arieh regretted this? What if he realized how deeply he had betrayed the Riinean customs and laws? He didn’t think he could bear to see his beautiful young lover destroyed by guilt for something they’d both enjoyed so well. He wrapped his arms around Arieh, gathering him close and tucking his face into the boy’s sweaty neck. Long, slender arms came up around his back and he sighed with relief as Arieh embraced him in return. Arieh’s lips moved against his skin, breath gusting out over the drying sweat, and Enitan could barely make out the words. “Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and clung to Arieh, not bothering to hide the need he felt to have the boy as close as possible. “It was my pleasure,” he rasped, the honesty of those words searing him as he spoke. They lay like that for some time before Enitan felt ready to loosen his hold at all.

[\ The hallways were uncharacteristically quiet as Demic made his way to the master’s bedroom. He hadn’t seen the Riine, but then again he wasn’t looking. The brat had been out with Junia that morning and usually spent his afternoons in the garden. Demic avoided him if he could. Sure, the master seemed happy

EVERY GOOD THING 137 enough, but that was somehow worse than if he were miserable. Demic could almost ignore it if he didn’t have to see the Riine. He was the one to care for the master’s bedding so he knew the brat hadn’t yet owned up to his position in the household. That was truly offensive. The pais had a higher position than anyone else other than the master himself and wouldn’t even do his job. The quiet boy who helped in the stables had been currying the master’s horse earlier when Demic had gone out, so Demic was headed up to the bedroom to see if he could take care of the armor. He polished the metal breastplate and rubbed the leather with beeswax to combat sweat every day the master worked. The master was home early today and Demic hoped he might have an evening to himself if he got started on that now. He’d been hungry for company lately, and saving up. Maybe that E’ean dancer again, he’d been deliciously limber and adventurous. Demic had made that pouch of powder last for weeks, using only a little when the nights were too long and dark. He found that a mere smudge of it across his palm made self-pleasure an experience to be savored. When he’d run out, he’d tried to convince himself he didn’t need it. He’d lasted for one night against the cravings, but the longing haunted him. He’d been able to buy small amounts of an inferior version, but nothing as pure or powerful as what the E’ean had left for him and he needed it. Yes, the E’ean would be a good choice. Satisfied with his plan, Demic knocked on the wall beside the curtain that covered the door, and when he got no response, figured the master must have gone out again. He pulled the edge of the curtain back and slipped inside, remaining quiet when he saw the lump under the covers, the large foot sticking out from the edge of the blanket. The master was taking a nap. It must have been a very hard day indeed. Demic gathered up the breastplate and helmet, his nose wrinkling at the odor of sweat that clung to them, but frowned when he couldn’t find the leather trousers or the boots. Enitan wasn’t well known for leaving things in neat piles, so the only thing to do was scour the room.

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He found the boots and the pants—obviously discarded in haste, if their inside out condition was anything to go by—on the other side of the bed and picked them up. His nose twitched again at the strong scents from the clothing. The master hadn’t even bothered with a bath before collapsing, and that worried him a little. Enitan despised going to bed with dirt and sweat clinging to him. As Demic stood up, he let his gaze travel to the bed, checking to see if the master looked all right. What he saw there made him nearly drop the clothing he was holding, and he wondered how he’d missed it all before; the long limbed boy curled around Enitan’s body, tunic askew and rucked up, the powerful tang of sex and male bodies in the air, the possessive way Enitan held the boy, the blankets tangled hopelessly around them and revealing more than hiding the way their nakedness pressed against each other. Demic’s world seemed to stop. He still resented the Riine, but he’d become comfortable with the idea that the overly religious brat was never going to get around to fulfilling his duty. Eventually, the master would tire of him and the boy would be shuttled off; not sold again, Demic had no illusions about his master’s outrageous compassion, but moved into the groundskeeper’s house or the stables, or maybe even a relative’s household. In the meantime, Demic amused himself by being as rude to the Riine as he could without drawing the other slaves’ attention to his behavior. But there was no other way to interpret the intimacy of their position, the scents of their coupling, and the sated contentment that defined Enitan’s slack jaw and Arieh’s swollen mouth. The boy was finally the master’s lover in reality, not just in name. With a strangled noise, Demic clutched the sweaty uniform in his arms more tightly and stalked off to do his job. He would find the E’ean dancer and more precious powder and hope they drove the torment from his mind. He hoped they could make him forget the way his master looked curled around that unworthy slave brat. He hoped they made it all go away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN It was dinner time when Enitan woke next, if his stomach was to be believed. Arieh was still asleep, and so was Enitan’s arm, trapped under the young man. His face hurt, too, and he realized he’d been smiling the whole time he was awake. Maybe he’d even been smiling in his sleep. His stomach growled again, joined this time by an insistent pressure in his bladder, and he ceded to the fact that, sweet as it was, holding his lover was not going to solve his problems. As carefully as he could, he slid out from under Arieh’s sprawl, holding his breath until he was sure he hadn’t woken the boy. He uncovered the brass pot by the door and relieved himself in it, then replaced the lid. He found a tunic and pulled it on, noting the absence of his armor in the room as he did. Demic must have been in while they were sleeping. Enitan wondered how long they had slept this time, but the shadows seemed to have barely moved, so it couldn’t have been very long. With one last lingering glance at Arieh, Enitan headed toward the kitchen to see how long dinner would be and whether he could pillage a mouthful or two in the meantime. He could hear sounds of chatter and preparation as he neared the kitchen and a rich, savory aroma floated out to him. He took that as a promising sign where food acquisition was concerned. When he got to the doorway, however, he paused. Apparently there was some kind of disturbance among the servants. Junia, Kallias, and several of the kitchen staff were crowded around a woman he thought looked vaguely familiar. The woman was holding a child and weeping, but no one looked concerned. Quite the opposite, everyone wore varying expressions of amazement. The child just looked overwhelmed. “You said the Riinean magician did this?” That voice belonged to the head cook, Kallias.

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The woman nodded and the movement exposed the side of her face as it shifted her uneven hair away from her features. She looked as if she’d been burned. As he watched, Junia stretched out a tentative hand, first brushing the child’s head, then the woman’s. Enitan watched in surprise. He’d never seen that look on Junia’s face, part awe, part hesitation, all tenderness. “Master Enitan!” He flinched guiltily as one of the servants spotted him skulking in the doorway. He saw Junia jerk her hand back, her face going pale then reddening. “Sir, I—” He waved off Junia’s impending apology, his eyes trained on the woman and her child. “Forgive me for intruding,” the woman said, making a smooth, graceful bow. Recognition snapped into place at the motion. “Not at all,” Enitan answered. “You danced at our feast, didn’t you?” The woman nodded, and he gestured toward the child. “Is everything all right?” Fresh tears rolled down the woman’s face as she nodded again. “My daughter can walk.” Enitan must have looked confused, because Junia put in quietly, “She was crippled by a mysterious illness when she was an infant.” His eyes darted to her sharply. “You’ve seen proof of this?” “Yes,” Junia answered. “Marit is Sariyah’s aunt. I’ve given her permission to leave her daughter here when she needs to. I’ve seen the girl many times.” “And I heard that it was the Riinean magician who did this?” He noticed how Kallias discreetly melted back into the kitchen activity. The dancer—Sariyah—looked away from him, her eyes focusing on the floor. Junia suddenly clammed up, her chin lifting and her lips pressing into a stubborn line. He chuckled.

EVERY GOOD THING 141 “I’m not going to arrest him,” Enitan said. “It’s not my jurisdiction and I see no evidence that he has harmed anyone.” His eyes flicked to Sariyah’s burned face as he said it, but she didn’t flinch. He addressed her thoughtfully. “I was not aware there was any friendliness between Riinea and E’ea.” “There isn’t,” Sariyah said bluntly. “Sir.” It was an afterthought and Enitan was darkly amused. The way these women disregard me, I must no longer pose the threatening figure I once did. He thought of Arieh and couldn’t be sorry for it. Junia was giving Sariyah a very confused look and the dancer ignored Enitan entirely for a moment, addressing the russethaired Moran slave. “E’ea used to be part of Riinea,” Sariyah explained. “One of our ancestors was cast out, along with his entire tribe, for marrying a foreigner, a girl from one of the green-eyed desert races. They still hate us.” Her lips twisted wryly. “Even our name is proof of this. Riinea means children of the earth, E’ea means children of nothing. We are all orphans.” Enitan himself had not been aware of all those details, but he had a specific purpose and he wanted to get to it. He decided it was time to get the conversation back on track. “It’s unusual, then, for a powerful Riinean to help you, since you’re E’ean?” “It’s unheard of. Sir.” She shrugged. Junia’s impertinence must have been rubbing off on her; he thought he remembered her being much more respectful the night of the feast. Then again, her brother had been precocious enough for both of them, and Enitan wasn’t her employer today. Not yet, anyway. “A crowd was gathered to stone me to death when he intervened.” Enitan’s glance revisited the burn wound on her face and he wondered if they’d done more than ‘gathered.’ What would she do, now that she had such a disfigurement? Ugly dancers were not in high demand and even though her features were still lovely beneath the twisted, angry red flesh, it would be seen as a flaw.

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He saw the way Junia looked at her, as though the sun and moon rose in her eyes, and smiled to himself. He wouldn’t have guessed Junia would be attracted to the other woman instead of Sariyah’s brother, but what did he know? His best house-slave deserved a little payback for all her help with his own lover, and Enitan was feeling very generous. Besides, it would be killing two enemies with one spear. If a Riinean had in fact regained his race’s talent for magic, it would need to be monitored. He’d like to have as much information as possible, just in case he had to do something about it. “I will want to watch this man’s activities,” he murmured, almost to himself. He looked to Sariyah. “Would you bring me whatever news of this magician you can find?” Both women gave him distrustful looks and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ve already promised I won’t arrest him, and that promise stands so long as he does not prove himself to be dangerous.” He focused on Sariyah again. “Of course, I would pay you for every report you make.” The quick frown Junia shot him at the mention of finances was quite different from the earlier looks she’d given him, but she didn’t say a word. Nice to see I’m still the master in some things, Enitan thought dryly. Sariyah hesitated only for a moment before she nodded. “That would be acceptable, sir.” The title fell more naturally from her mouth now and Enitan wondered for a moment if throwing money around was always the easiest way to earn respect. “Excellent. You and Junia decide how much the information is worth, then, and we’ll count today as your first report.” The glare Junia leveled at him as he turned to leave sent a shudder through him and he quickened his pace. He was several steps away from the kitchen before his growling stomach reminded him he’d forgotten to steal any food. He wasn’t going back now, not with Junia waiting to lecture him on the nature of money and how it didn’t grow in his garden. Maybe he’d wake Arieh and see if the boy wanted to ride down

EVERY GOOD THING 143 to the market for an hour or so. They could find someone roasting meat for sale there, he was sure, and eat together, away from the rest of the house. The thought lightened his step and by the time he was halfway to his bedroom, he’d forgotten all about the reawakening of Riinea’s magic.

[\ After Sariyah left, her arms full of healthy child and her purse heavy with new coin, Junia leaned against the kitchen wall and blew out a heavy breath. She knew Enitan had made a good and kind decision in helping Sariyah; knew also that she herself was the best person to carry out the details. She had both Enitan’s and Sariyah’s interests at heart and knew the exact state of Enitan’s finances, probably better than he did. Even after Arieh took full claim of his rights as pais, she would still be the one who knew most about the household money. That was just the problem; she knew they were just recovering from Enitan’s extravagance, and he was picking up more expenses. She sighed and supposed she couldn’t really complain. After all, there were worse traits than generosity for a master to have, and it wasn’t like she was completely innocent herself. Hadn’t she been the one to purchase the book of holy writings for Arieh? Arieh. Junia stood up straight as something clicked into place in her mind. She walked over to where the Regic cook was chopping vegetables and supervising the rest of the work going on. “Kallias.” She waited until he looked at her before continuing. “Did the master seem strange to you today?” “He was very generous and a bit impulsive, but that is not so strange for your master.” “No, something else. He seemed… easier. Less tense.” “I should think so.” Kallias chuckled, scraping the vegetables into a dish and cleaning his knife with a towel. “He smelled strongly of sex.”

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Her eyes narrowed. The cook had one of the most sensitive noses she’d encountered; it made him an excellent judge of food. She had no doubt he was right, but still. If Enitan had been relieving himself in the baths again, he would have bathed off immediately afterward. That only left… “You don’t think…?” “The Riine?” He shrugged. “Certainly.” “Certainly? Why do you say that?” He stared. “The kitchen window overlooks the gardens. The boy spends his afternoons there, but as soon as your master returns, he is at the stables, dirty hands and all.” Junia couldn’t help smiling at this and Kallias gave her a puzzled look. “Is there a reason you would think it was not his pais?” Junia glanced around to make sure she wasn’t about to embarrass anyone and lowered her voice. “They have been sharing a bed chastely all these weeks.” Kallias was shocked. “But your master—” “Spends many hours in the baths. He would not force an unwilling pais, no matter how much right he might have to do so.” “Most men take ‘willing’ to mean anything that doesn’t kill them trying to escape,” Kallias noted dryly. He mused over this for a while. “I wonder what he wants with the magician, then? I don’t think he’s going to risk making the boy angry by arresting one of his countrymen. Not when he cares as much as he obviously does.” “I wonder if he knows, himself,” Junia murmured. She straightened and stepped away from the chopping block, signaling the conversation was over. “Thank you for telling me about the merchant in the lower market, by the way,” she said, and he nodded acknowledgement as she left. She had a lot to think about. First, she wanted to talk to Arieh. He might be embarrassed, but that alone should tell her everything she wanted to know. She didn’t think Enitan would

EVERY GOOD THING 145 force the boy into anything, but he had been so scared of giving in to his feelings, and she’d gotten protective of him. She wanted to make sure Arieh was okay with everything. She stole quietly down the hall to the master’s bedroom, mindful that Arieh might be sleeping if it really was his scent clinging to the master’s skin. She paused outside the door when she heard voices—Enitan’s, deep and happy, and Arieh’s lighter tones, sounding merry and perfectly untroubled. At least they were both well content, neither in danger of an imminent disaster. She wouldn’t disturb them, then. She would talk to Arieh later, but her curiosity demanded to be satisfied more immediately than that. She headed for Demic’s quarters. He was the master’s personal slave, if anybody else knew, he would. But Demic’s quarters were empty, the master’s armor freshly waxed and polished, gleaming in the corner. She huffed, frustration rippling over her. She eyed the armor speculatively. It gave her the perfect excuse to barge into the master’s bedroom, examine the situation for herself. She draped the leather trousers over her arm, tucked the helmet against her side, and gathered up the heavy breastplate. It left the fingers of one hand free to pick up the boots. Heavyladen, she felt like a pack animal. The thought made her chuckle. By the time she made it back to the master’s bedroom, the voices inside had fallen silent, and she scowled as she pushed through the curtain to find the room empty. She neatly arranged Enitan’s armor in the corner where it belonged before allowing herself to look around the room for clues. The bed looked very used, the white blankets twisted and bunched near the end of the wool-stuffed cushion. Her fingers twitched and she told herself that she was perfectly justified straightening the blanket. It might be Demic’s normal job, but Demic was otherwise occupied, it seemed. Junia shook out the blanket and pulled it neatly across the bed, and while the color hid any telltale stains, the smell of satisfaction hit her in the face. Surprised and pleased, she

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finished smoothing the blankets over the bed and went back to her regular duties. Things were finally going all right, after all.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN When Enitan had suggested another trip into the market, Arieh had hesitated briefly. He’d spent all morning there, after all, but on a far different premise than what Enitan was proposing. “We won’t stay long,” Enitan had promised, reading his reluctance. “I just want to show you some things.” That had done it. He’d been dreading the prospect of his sensibilities returning with a long list of condemnations to steal the joy out of the pleasure Enitan’s hand had brought him. He wasn’t sure yet what to think of it, and the truth was he didn’t want to think of it at all. Enitan’s offer temporarily erased every part of himself except the poor farmer’s son who rarely got to leave the enclave and never for anything as frivolous as simply exploring and seeing new things. Even with Junia that morning, the trip had been all about business, about doing a job. Enitan was offering simple leisure, something he’d never had. He hadn’t expected for Enitan to pull him up onto the back of the pretty bay gelding, his legs straddling the horse’s haunches, his arms wrapped tightly around the man in front of him. “It would be nice to get you your own horse,” Enitan had noted as they’d settled in together, Enitan keeping the horse still until he was certain Arieh was secure. “But Junia would kill me if I bought one now, so hold on tight, okay? We’ll take it easy.” They were definitely taking it easy, the horse seemingly content with the slow, plodding walk Enitan kept him to as they made their way through Temple Street. Arieh had not been here before, it being full of things that no Riinean farming family would ever need. Temple Street was lined with the temples of the Keshen gods and one or two that they’d stolen from the countries they’d conquered. Each one had a carved statue at the entrance and Enitan pointed them out to him as they rode along, telling him what they were for.

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“That’s Demhir.” The statue was of a slight young man, bent under the burdens he carried. “He is the patron of slaves and laborers.” On second glance, the temple looked slightly shabbier than the rest, probably because the people who patronized it were not among the wealthy of the city. “Isara,” he said, pointing to a figure that confused Arieh for all of two heartbeats before it made him blush furiously. The statue wore a woman’s style tunic, but it gaped open in the front to show huge, heavy breasts and a very large, very erect penis. “Both god and goddess, though most people use the feminine to refer to her. She’s the deity of fertility.” “I wonder why,” Arieh muttered under his breath, trying to will away the hot blush in his cheeks. Enitan laughed. Beside almost every temple was a vendor selling fresh food. Most of the deities received animal sacrifices, and the carcasses were then roasted and sold to hungry worshipers. One temple some ways ahead was roasting corn, peppers, squash, and bread. Arieh assumed the deity being worshiped was the patron of farming and briefly wondered what the idol would look like. The smell of cooking meat permeated the air, and Arieh’s mouth watered. He hadn’t realized he was hungry, but the different herbs and spices he could smell were convincing him of his need to eat. Just as he resolved to ignore it a bit longer, his stomach growled loudly and Enitan chuckled. “I know how you feel,” he said, one hand resting warmly, affectionately, on Arieh’s where they locked over Enitan’s stomach. He felt a sympathetic rumble from Enitan’s belly as well. “We’ll stop at my patron’s temple to buy food.” They rode further down the street, Enitan giving only brief descriptions of the next few deities, including the one whose vendor was selling vegetables, sweet honey cakes made of wheat and barley, and bread. Arieh had been right in his assumption; Vass was the god of grains, fruits and vegetables, the patron of Keshen farmers. The statue was nowhere near as dramatic as Isara’s, merely a strong man with a sickle in one square hand and several stalks of wheat in the other.

EVERY GOOD THING 149 Enitan stopped the horse in front of a temple near the very end of Temple Street and dismounted, reaching up to help Arieh down after him. He hadn’t said anything yet, his attitude unusually solemn. Once his feet were on the ground, Arieh looked up at the stone statue towering over them. It was a soldier in armor, fierce-eyed, but with an expression that gave the impression of protectiveness. Muscled arms in sleeveless armor wielded a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, a sun shaped crest emblazoned on the shield. Strong legs in boots braced far apart, giving the figure the perfect stance for a crippling blow with the sword. It wasn’t until the second time looking over the idol that Arieh noticed the long hair, the delicate mouth, and, most tellingly, the swells in the chest armor that revealed the deity to be female. “This is Jun, warrior goddess, patron of soldiers.” Enitan looked up at her and touched the center of his chest in a gesture of respect. “She always intrigued me, and I was dedicated to her when I entered the army.” “She looks strong,” Arieh noted, ignoring the twinge of discomfort at complimenting a deity other than Ayh or Xea. “Is Junia named after her?” “She is.” Arieh wasn’t sure which question he was answering, maybe both. Enitan smiled fondly, giving the idol one more glance before leading Arieh over to the side of the temple steps where an old man was cooking chunks of meat nestled in hot coals. “Kentari Viden,” the man greeted them, bowing deeply. “You’ve already visited the Warrior this week, haven’t you?” “Good day, Pakra. I’m not here to pay obeisance today. I just came so the Warrior could get a glimpse of my pais, and so we could have some of your excellent venison.” He winked at Arieh, and Arieh didn’t know if the gesture was in reference to showing Arieh off to the goddess or the fact that venison was not one of the forbidden foods.

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Pakra smiled at Arieh, the unguarded stretch of his lips revealing mottled pink gums with only one or two teeth left. “You will like my venison. Very tender. Even I can eat it.” The old man cackled and Enitan laughed softly, dropping three copper coins into the man’s brown, wrinkled palm. The man handed him two chunks of venison wrapped in grape leaves, and Enitan handed one to Arieh. Arieh reached in and gasped when the meat burned his fingertips. He put the injured digits in his mouth, a sound of pleasure escaping him when the spices and grease hit his tongue. “Careful,” Enitan said, affectionate amusement in his voice. When Arieh took his fingers out of his mouth, Enitan took his hand and kissed the fingertips gently. Heat shot through Arieh and he could feel it in the soles of his feet. Pakra watched them with a knowing smirk and Arieh took his hand back, peeling off a strip of the meat. It had cooled just enough that it didn’t burn him anymore, but it was very nearly uncomfortable when he put it on his tongue. The flavor burst in his mouth, rich and spicy in all the best ways, and his eyes fluttered closed. “That’s good,” he murmured after he swallowed the first bite, going back for another. Enitan and Pakra both looked pleased with his approval. Enitan looped the gelding’s reins over his arm and started walking back the way they’d come. Arieh followed along, savoring every bite of his venison. Enitan watched him out of the corner of his eye and Arieh warmed under the regard. By the time they finished their food, the used grape leaves fluttering down to the ground to be trampled under travelers’ feet, they were halfway back down Temple Street. “This is pretty,” Arieh noted, looking around at their surroundings. The evening torches were just being lit and they lent a festive glow to the road. Somewhere, one of the temples was tolling sweet, melodic bells. “The temple back home was…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he didn’t want to think about the temple back home or what he was taught there.

EVERY GOOD THING 151 He was enjoying himself so much more now that he’d left those restrictions behind and he didn’t want anything to ruin that. “How was the temple back home?” Enitan asked, chasing that unfinished sentence. “I’d like to hear about it.” “I don’t want to talk about it,” Arieh said quickly. In the fading light, he missed the flicker of expression that crossed Enitan’s face. “That was a different life.” “What would you like to talk about?” Enitan ventured after a moment. “Huh?” It wasn’t the most intelligent response, but it was all he could summon. “I would like to talk to you, listen to you. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” Enitan wasn’t looking at him, his eyes staring straight ahead down the street. There was a procession of priests up ahead, each one carrying a small candle as they marched solemnly up the steps into the temple of Bruhl the Forger, the fire god. Arieh watched the flickering flames of their candles until they disappeared into the temple, his mind searching for things to say. “I’d like to know about you,” he finally said. “About anything you can tell me. I still know so little about the world outside Riinea.” The look Enitan gave him was full of something he couldn’t quite describe but it sent a thrill along his skin. It seemed to dance in the air between them, bright and crackling like the torches that lined the street, but before Enitan said anything, they were interrupted. “There you are!” The young man walking toward them was tall, taller than Arieh, and willowy, his collarbones standing out like a sculpture of paired swans’ necks. Long red hair hung down his back, bound at his nape with black leather cords. “I haven’t seen you in ages. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about—oh, hello, who’s this?” The man smiled at Arieh with open admiration. “Have you brought him to play?”

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“I thought you were a servant for Bruhl these days, Ules,” Enitan said with a hint of rebuke. “Have you gone back to Isara’s service then?” “Not at all,” Ules assured him blithely. “But Bruhl doesn’t forbid his followers from pleasure. Passion is a fire as well, you know.” “So the poets say,” Enitan remarked mildly. “And to answer your question, no, he’s not for you to play with. This is my pais.” Ules blinked in obvious surprise, his gaze flickering back and forth between Arieh and Enitan. “So that’s why you haven’t been spotted at Isara’s Alley in months. I can’t say that I blame you. Why go out looking when you have such beauty at home?” He bowed to Arieh. “Congratulations, young man. You’ve snatched up the most coveted lover on Temple Street.” “Ules…” The warning in Enitan’s voice was clear, but the redhead only gave him a cheerful smile and a saucy wave before he moved away down the street, his red and black robes streaked with odd shadows in the dancing torchlight. “I’m sorry,” Enitan said to Arieh after Ules had disappeared. “I didn’t mean for this to be awkward.” Arieh shrugged, hoping it wasn’t as stiff as he felt. He was trying to be casual about things, but one didn’t outgrow an entire lifetime of conditioning in one day. Ayh and Xea’s temple didn’t have prostitutes or the selling of sacrificial meat. Only the priests got to eat the sacrificed animals except on high holy days, when so many creatures would be slaughtered that the only thing to do was feed their small nation. “What’s Isara’s Alley?” He could guess, knowing who Isara was, but he wasn’t clear on the details. “It’s where the temple prostitutes go to earn some extra money,” Enitan said flatly. “He—Ules—said you hadn’t been there in ages. How long has it been?” Enitan cleared his throat uncomfortably, but answered anyway. “Since a little before I found you at the slave market.”

EVERY GOOD THING 153 Before? That was interesting. “Why did you stop going?” It was Enitan’s turn to shrug, the gesture betraying only a hint of self-consciousness. “I wanted more than a warm and willing body. I wanted a mind that engaged me, a heart that captivated me. Pleasure can be hollow if it is only your body that feels it and not the rest of your being.” Arieh was silent, watching the other man as his mind spun, trying to assimilate this speech. Yet one more proof that the priests were wrong about foreigners, they were not all animals driven mad by their unnatural cravings for baser pleasures. Finally, Enitan broke away from Arieh’s silent perusal and swung up onto the gelding. He held his hand down for Arieh, and Arieh grasped it, pulling himself up behind Enitan. The horse danced in place but Enitan soothed it, waiting until Arieh had his seat, arms wrapped around Enitan’s waist. The sun was disappearing behind the horizon now and the pungent aroma of incense from the temples overwhelmed the scents of cooking food, human bodies, and horseflesh. All Arieh could smell was incense smoke and Enitan’s own unique scent of flesh and leather with a slightly sweet twist, as if he’d tucked some of the honeywheat cakes from the Temple of Vass into his tunic. Arieh inhaled appreciatively, then rested his head between Enitan’s shoulders. He was tired, but strangely energized, and his mind refused to be quieted. As his fingers idly toyed with the fabric of Enitan’s tunic, he found himself wondering what else he might change his mind about now that he’d finally cut his mental ties with his upbringing. Now that he wasn’t holding on to the idea of someday going “home,” what other freedoms waited for him in the great wide world? Lulled by the gentle rocking pace of the gelding, he leaned his face against Enitan’s back and closed his eyes. He would think about all this later. For now, he would focus on the simple feeling of safety and warmth that holding onto Enitan gave him.

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The house Zakai had taken Demic to was at the wrong end of Temple Street, where the roadways tilted down toward the drainage canal that ran like a putrid vein through the lower side of town. Some distance past the Temple of Jun, there was one more shrine patronized by the god of death and afterlife. Ashkal was a shadowy kind of deity, face and figure indiscernible beneath a dark, shapeless robe. The mystery inherent in Ashkal’s figure made some fear him and others long to know what secrets he held, but not many brave enough to enter into his service or worship. He had only a handful of priests who served him. They all wore black hooded robes and painted their faces white and had taken vows of silence. Some said they even cut out their tongues as part of their dedication. They looked strangely featureless with such unnaturally pale skin, and the sight was unnerving. The only people who ventured past the Temple of Ashkal were those who had something to hide and didn’t mind if the god spread his shadowy robes over them to help. Demic himself had never gone any further than the far side of Jun’s temple, far enough to see the strange, silent priests who served Ashkal. Zakai had taken him past the temple with barely a glance, not even noticing the one dedicant who stood outside with an eerie pale flame, keeping a ghoulish watch. It sent a shiver up Demic’s spine, that small figure standing there like the ghost of a child. By the time they got to the room, Demic wasn’t interested in much of anything, especially not the pain Zakai claimed to want, but it wasn’t like he could admit it. There were trappings all around the room; a horse whip, several leather straps, a cat o’ nine tails, and even a kentari’s stiivi. The last was most tempting, the slick black wooden club evoking images of his own master, who rarely used the weapon but always carried it. Nervous, he’d tried to stammer out a conversation. “You seem familiar with this place. Do you come here often?” The look that Zakai sent him was scornful. “Do I look like I want to talk about this? My sister came home from the Riinean enclave burned and mutilated, and tells me your master

EVERY GOOD THING 155 has paid her to go back there, gather more information for him. She’s happy about it.” He swallowed, the bulge in his throat bobbing as something flickered in his eyes, some deep torment. “So it doesn’t matter if I come here often or not. What matters is I’m here now, and if you can’t make me bleed, you can leave and I’ll find someone who can.” Demic had never done anything of the sort before, but he’d often been angry enough to hit someone, to hurt them. He’d never done it, afraid of the consequences if Enitan found out he’d abused another member of the staff, and he’d never thought of hiring someone to let him do it. After all, who would willingly subject themselves to it? Zakai must have seen the change in his expression, the admission of willingness. A sly grin tugged at the dancer’s mouth and he baited, “If it helps, you can pretend I’m your master’s pretty Riinean pais.” Demic left the room as soon as they were done, washed the flecks of blood from his skin in a basin in the far corner. Zakai had been panting and breathless, face down on the mattress. Demic had unfastened the straps holding him still but hadn’t offered any more help. The shadows were closing in now as he made his way back toward the street of shrines, skirting Ashkal’s temple with a shudder. The wraith-child was gone, but the emptiness of the shrine made it even more foreboding. His mind whirled with images of Zakai’s honey colored skin striped with rising red welts, speckled and foamed with blood in the places where the flesh had broken. It hadn’t been difficult to picture Arieh in his place, that Riinean brat who had stolen his own chance at happiness. Whatever guilt he felt at the idea of hurting his master’s pais was alleviated by the thought of Arieh’s ethnicity. Everyone knew Riines were filthy, rude, and dangerous. They were carriers of diseases, like sewer rats. Hadn’t Zakai’s sister come back from the enclave with wounds? No wonder there had been the movement some years ago to simply annihilate the Riines when they wouldn’t accept the rule of the Inpsu.

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But the Inpsu had been gold hungry and had allowed them to live unconquered inside their enclave, by their own religion and their own rules, so long as they paid taxes to Keshe. It had been a mistake; Demic could see that now. They should have been killed. They should still be killed. Just before he reached the Temple of Bruhn, he saw the familiar form of his master’s gelding. He paused, his heart hammering in his throat. As he watched, Enitan mounted the bay, the strength of his legs evident in the thin informal trousers he wore when not in uniform. The glow in Demic’s heart soured quickly when Enitan reached down and pulled up a passenger to ride double. The Riinean pais clung to Enitan, those filthy hands clutching Enitan’s tunic, his deceptively beautiful face buried between Enitan’s shoulders. Hadn’t the Riines once controlled magic? Surely this boy had bewitched his master. Surely the man wouldn’t let that creature touch him of his own free will. Something snapped inside Demic. Something had to be done. The pais had to go.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Ashar Int’ea was a breathing legend, as much a living myth as the dragon that draped so loyally over his shoulder, tail curled around his arm, small wings fluttering occasionally. Suqua Ar’ea had never seen anything like the man in all his young life. The last of six children, Suqua had a certain amount of freedom his eldest siblings didn’t. It was a trade off; he had very few responsibilities at home, a light enough work load that he had plenty of free time to roam the enclave, but he would get the smallest inheritance of his father’s four sons. At the moment, it was a trade he was willing to make, as it left his afternoons free to follow the magician who had suddenly appeared. There was some dispute as to Int’ea’s heritage; his family name referred to his mother’s, with no mention of a father. Some said he was fathered by a dragon; others said he was fathered by Ayh. People who were suspicious of him, seething with hot resentment for the way he drew the Inpsu’s eye to the enclave, said that he was, quite simply, a bastard and his magic was a sham. Suqua’s only wish was to see the man’s magic in action. He had heard tales from the blacksmith’s youngest daughter of things the man had done, and he’d seen the end results. Like most of Riinea’s historical magic, Int’ea focused his power on helping people. Injuries and illnesses were healed, broken heirlooms were made good as new, and lost treasures were found. The butcher’s son had lost the tips of four fingers of his left hand to his carving knife. The boy’s mother had taken him to Int’ea, who had simply held the boy’s injured hand between both of his and breathed a quiet spell. Suqua had seen the boy later that afternoon, smudges of dried blood still evident on his whole, uninjured fingers. The man was developing an entire bevy of followers, students of the temple who wanted to regain the magic of their ancestors and had not been able to do so through the priest’s

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rigorous study, citizens looking for something amusing, like a trained animal doing tricks, and a few who were hungry for some sign of hope. Riinea had been trampled in the dust for decades by a government who wanted to smother her heritage and took taxes in the form of sons and daughters. There was a general unrest among the people, discontent stirred up by the knowledge that power had not fled their nation entirely. There were whispers of suspicion that Int’ea might be the Deliverer promised in the Vatan, the one who would restore their nation to prosperity and power. Others said that he was a charlatan, merely someone stirring up trouble. Just the other day, in fact, he’d saved a foreigner from being punished for crossing into the enclave illegally—an E’ean at that. The Deliverer would never help the faithless. Wasn’t he promised to the faithful, after all? Suqua didn’t know what was true and honestly didn’t care. What mattered was that he wanted to see magic at work, this tantalizing mystery he’d heard about all his life. So far, he hadn’t managed to be in the right place at the right time yet, though not for lack of trying. He didn’t have many chores anyway, and his mother always seemed relieved to have him out of the house, but he still hadn’t seen anything actually happen. It could have something to do with the fact that he was afraid to follow too closely, afraid the magician might sense him and call him out. Suqua had been studying under one of the priests at the temple, being trained in the service of Ayh. He was a second year student, still very low in rank, when he began having strange dreams and urges. Distressed, he’d gone to his mentor about them. Yllar Nus’ea, one of the most respected priests in the temple, had simply chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. Yllar had assured him that it was merely a trial of holiness that every boy his age went through, that he had only to pour his heart out to Ayh and receive the strength to overcome it. Suqua had followed the instruction; had poured his heart out until sweat beaded on his brow, but the only thing he got for his efforts were more—and clearer—dreams.

EVERY GOOD THING 159 When Suqua had gone back to Yllar, disturbed by the visions he saw in his sleep, the older man hadn’t smiled or chuckled or patted him in a fatherly manner. He had looked at Suqua, intense and serious, and advised him to submit to a purification ritual. The ritual had involved baths so hot they made him dizzy and so cold they turned his skin purple, sleeping upside down with his head on the floor and his feet tied to the wall, and fasting for three weeks. At first, it seemed the purification had worked. For a week after the ritual, Suqua had slept soundly, no dark dreams to disturb his sleep. But just when he was beginning to gain back his strength, the night visions came again and his flesh burned for the touch of the man he saw in his dreams. He knew he would not be able to survive another purification ritual and he feared what would happen if he told Yllar that it hadn’t worked, so Suqua had kept his secrets to himself. The day Yllar had come to tell him that he had fulfilled the requirements to move into his third year of study, he’d found Suqua with his hand on himself, trying to relieve the pressure that his secret had built inside him. Yllar demanded to know if it was still “the old problem,” and Suqua had never been able to lie in the face of a direct question. He’d been discharged from the training program immediately and sent home, but at least Yllar had taken mercy on him. Nobody else knew why Suqua had suddenly been found unsuitable for the priestly training. But Ashar Int’ea was a magician. If anybody could know without being told, it would be him, and Suqua didn’t think he could face seeing an expression of disgust on the man’s face, so he kept his distance, hoping that one day he would be able to see something happen. He had a feeling today was going to be his day. Int’ea had entered a new part of the vast enclave and had offered to heal the injuries and sicknesses of the Riineans who lived in that neighborhood. Word traveled fast and people were already lining up with their injured and infirm. Knowing it was his big chance, Suqua scrambled up into the nearest tree until he reached the highest branch that would still hold his weight. He traveled from treetop to treetop this way

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until he’d reached a reasonable distance from the man. Surely Int’ea would be so preoccupied with the mass of people there asking for his help, one tainted ex-temple boy wouldn’t catch his attention. For more than an hour, Suqua watched as Int’ea healed everyone who came to him with a touch or a word or a breath. Suqua nearly forgot to breathe until Int’ea held up his hands and said hoarsely, “I need to rest. You may wait, or come back in an hour.” Suqua could see that the man’s hands were trembling with exhaustion and wanted to go find him something to eat, some soothing honeywine to drink. Magic must be very draining. When the crowd had backed off some, Int’ea sank down on the low stone wall of a fountain and tilted his head back, relaxing as the sun soaked into him. After a moment, he looked directly at the tree where Suqua was hiding and smiled. Suqua wished the man was smiling at him. When Int’ea spoke, however, Suqua nearly fell from his hiding place. “Suqua Ar’ea, how would you like to be apprenticed to a magician instead of a priest?”

[\ Tax collecting wasn’t quite as bad as Enitan had feared. As a reward for his faithful service in the military, he supposed, he and his group of four had been assigned to the collectors canvassing a middle classed neighborhood. They were rarely able to pay their full taxes in cash, but they had plenty of valuable belongings to sell. Most of the time, the collectors didn’t have to resort to slave-taking to pocket a nice profit and that suited Enitan just fine, along with several of the collectors. So far today, they’d picked up a beautiful horse, several healthy lambs, and more jewelry than he cared to see ever again. One woman who had sold her grandmother’s necklace had cried when they’d taken it away, and for a moment Enitan had considered telling her to be grateful it wasn’t herself or her child they were taking instead. He knew that was going on in poorer neighborhoods.

EVERY GOOD THING 161 One of the collectors, a massively round man whose redveined nose gave away his fondness for wine, fell into step with Enitan as they left one house and approached another. He carried a piece of cloth that Enitan had seen him use to surreptitiously wipe his nose from time to time. Enitan privately wondered if the apothecary was supplying him with a few of the more recreational herbals. “I’m glad we haven’t had to take any live ones today,” he said in a deep, raspy voice. “Far too much trouble, that. All that crying, and half of ‘em try to make a break for it.” He elbowed Enitan companionably in the side and Enitan felt it through the leather fastenings on his armor. “I’m an old man, eh? And far too fat to be chasing after the bastards.” The man tottered off after that, called up by one of the other collectors to assess the property of the next household, and Enitan let his mind wander. He wondered if Arieh had tried to escape when they’d taken him from his father’s house. Arieh had said that a kentari was the one who had chosen him for sale. Enitan wondered who the soldier was and whether he knew him. He wondered if he would want to thank the man or hit him. If it were not for that kentari, Arieh would never have come to Enitan, but the boy would probably still be with his family, apprenticed to a carpenter. He shook his head at the thought. Arieh was much more at home with live plants than dead trees. He wondered what they’d been thinking, to apprentice him to a carpenter. Enitan admitted to himself that he was still selfish. He was glad Arieh was with him, even if he did wish his pais hadn’t lost his family so completely. Arieh seemed to be coming to terms with things, though. He’d taken to sleeping tucked up against Enitan and had become easier, almost playful, in his manner. He’d even become more physically affectionate, openly hungry for touch now that Enitan had introduced him to a previously unknown world of pleasure. Enitan understood that it was simply the awakening of youthful desires that Arieh’s religion had kept firmly reined in before, but he was enjoying the benefits.

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The only thing that worried him was that Arieh refused to hear about anything related to Riinea. He would not acknowledge any mention of his heritage, and the holy writings that Junia had found for him had been shoved away unceremoniously. Enitan had found them in their room and brought them to him, but Arieh had said coldly that he didn’t want to see them. It was his standard answer for anything to do with Riinea, and that bothered Enitan. He understood how the boy could prefer the less restrictive lifestyle that Enitan had introduced him to, but he knew Arieh needed to make a conscious if not peaceful break with his upbringing. Running blindly into rebellion wouldn’t last long and Enitan was afraid the guilt would catch up with him sooner rather than later. In the meantime, though, he seemed happy enough to be with Enitan, and Enitan wasn’t foolish enough to try to talk him out of it. Just that morning, as Enitan had risen, Arieh had reached for him, turning his face upward for a sleepy kiss that had nearly tempted Enitan back into their bed, work be damned. Enitan was lost in the particular memory of Arieh’s warm, dry mouth pressed trustingly against his, Arieh’s tongue sloppy in his eagerness to taste Enitan, when a commotion near the house drew his attention. There was a sound of general unrest and Enitan edged forward, hoping the sight of his armor would settle any conflict before it escalated. As he looked, he saw a sullen faced young girl being held by one of the two assessors. He was arguing with the other assessor, the winelover who had earlier expressed his distaste with slave-taking. The big man was disagreeing with the choice of compensation, and the smaller man was arguing that she was the only thing of value in the household. The girl’s parents stood in the doorway watching. The mother was a small woman and looked impossibly frail, horror on her face. The father was not a large man himself, but he looked as if he might challenge the collectors for possession of his daughter if he believed he had half a chance of winning. They were obviously from Ekias and Enitan felt a pang of sympathy as the assessors finally came to an agreement, the

EVERY GOOD THING 163 winelover gesturing in disgust as the girl was taken back to the small caravan with the horse and the lambs. The girl’s mother turned away before her grief could show on her face, but the father swallowed heavily, his eyes fixed on the way they bound his daughter’s wrists with rope. A pang of sympathy sounded through Enitan and he stepped closer, feeling guilty when he saw the suspicious way the man looked at him. “I will see that she is taken care of,” he said quietly, hoping the man could speak Keshen because he didn’t know a word of Ekian. “She will not be harmed.” “Be gentle if you take her to your bed,” the father said, sorrow and bitterness twisting in his voice. The words were accented, but Enitan heard him well enough. “Not I,” said Enitan. “My bed is full. But I will be sure she is safe.” The man looked at him, not daring to trust but knowing he had no other option. “Thank you,” he finally said, before he turned and went back into the house. The door closing behind him drew the first reaction from the girl in the caravan. A heartbreaking wail tore from her throat and she threw her head back in anguish. One of the collectors raised his hand to strike her, but Enitan was there before the blow could fall, squeezing the man’s wrist. “Are you a fool?” he spat. “She is a human girl, she has the right to grieve.” “She is a slave, taken as payment,” the man shot back, and Enitan snarled. “Then mind your business and do not damage the merchandise.” The collector glared at him but snatched his hand away and moved off to stand with the others. The girl, who had stopped crying during the argument, looked at Enitan with wet, distrusting eyes. “I won’t hurt you,” he assured her. “You’ll be all right.”

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The way her expression twisted was answer enough without any words, even without the way she spit into the sand at Enitan’s boots. The worst part was, he couldn’t say he disagreed with her. When Enitan returned home that evening, dustier and more exhausted than his usual days at the market, it was to find his bedroom empty. He stripped out of his armor and made his way to the baths, determined to wash away the day’s memories along with its dust before he went in search of his pais. Leaving work that day had been almost as bad as being there. All he’d wanted was to get home and find Arieh, bury his nose in that sweet smelling skin and breathe. He hoped Arieh would let him. But there had been the selling of things, the dividing of the spoils, and the girl they’d taken. She’d been the only human, and no one wanted to take her down to the slave market to find one of the traders who would buy her. Neither did Enitan, to tell the truth. He couldn’t take her; he didn’t have need of another slave, nor anywhere to put her. She was worth more than his share of the take, anyway, and he couldn’t afford to buy her outright. As he sank into the warm, fragrant water of the baths, he tilted his head back and sighed, breathing in steam. He wondered briefly where Demic was; the man was usually hovering whenever Enitan got home, ready to clean his armor, tend to him in the baths, generally spoil him. Then again, now that he thought of it, Demic hadn’t been around so much since Arieh had become part of the household. Not to mention that Enitan was earlier getting home today than usual, since the tax collectors had to wrap up business before the slave market closed. That thought only reminded him of the Ekian girl and he groaned, sinking down until just his nose was above the water. In the end, the best he’d been able to do for her was to beg a favor from Abheel-takhar. The old slaver had agreed to give her a preferred status only bestowed on rare slaves. Anyone who wished to buy her would be thoroughly scrutinized by Abheel-takhar before the sale could be made. Fortunately,

EVERY GOOD THING 165 Ekians were popular with the upper class lately; she would probably end up as a doted-on concubine to a fabulously wealthy old man. If she played her cards right, she might even inherit part or all of his estate when he died—it wasn’t unheard of. A splash brought him back from his guilty thoughts, but thinking it was only Demic, he didn’t open his eyes. The water’s current tugging at him was the only warning he had before a bare, slippery body brushed against his own, and his eyes opened in surprise. Soft laughter bubbled out of Arieh’s throat as the young man nuzzled Enitan’s forehead, his long legs settling on either side of Enitan’s thighs. “You look so surprised,” Arieh said, amusement making his voice warm and light. “Were you expecting someone else?” Enitan grunted, trying to shift so that he was sitting up more. The water was splashing up into his nose and it wasn’t comfortable. Arieh shifted back just enough to let him move before latching onto him again. “Wasn’t expecting anyone at all,” Enitan disagreed. “Not in the bath with me, anyway.” One broad hand slid up Arieh’s slick back, finding the dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck and tangling in it. “It’s a nice surprise.” Arieh smiled wider, tongue darting out to lick a drop of water off Enitan’s cheek before he nuzzled lower, under Enitan’s jaw. That mobile mouth molded itself to the curve of Enitan’s neck, licking and sucking as he moved lower. “You taste good,” Arieh murmured, the words shooting through Enitan like a bolt of lightning. Arieh’s hands were sliding over his chest and shoulders, touching in aimless patterns, just trying to reach everywhere he could. “Like salt and fresh rain.” Enitan let out a breathy moan, arching under Arieh’s aggressive hands and mouth. “C’mere,” he finally said, tugging on the boy’s shoulders. “I want to taste you.”

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Arieh shifted happily, bringing their mouths together. Arieh was getting better at kissing, but his youthful enthusiasm lent him a certain messiness that Enitan found endearing. He was looking forward to Arieh learning more subtlety but he wasn’t complaining, either. Enitan tried to slow him down, tried to get him to savor the kiss, but Arieh was already away again, nose trailing down Enitan’s throat and chest, down toward his stomach. Enitan tensed, worried for a moment. Aside from that brief lick the first time Arieh had touched him, they hadn’t experimented like that. Enitan was still trying to take it slowly, to make sure Arieh was comfortable at every step. Arieh didn’t go below the waterline, though, stopping where it lapped against Enitan’s nipples. When Arieh pressed his lean body fully against Enitan’s from shoulders to hips and started rocking, Enitan had to grasp the edge of the bath to keep from sliding under the water in shock. All his muscles rippled with excitement and Arieh smiled as he tilted his head back, eyes closed. A frisson of worry shot through Enitan, the same old nagging fear about Arieh getting himself in over his head, not being emotionally ready to keep up with what his body was asking him for. He wanted to be able to see Arieh’s eyes, to know what was going on in that beautiful head. The pleasure of Arieh’s body moving over his, sweet brown skin dragging deliciously across his own, was enough to make Enitan’s head spin and he was panting by the time he got his hands on Arieh’s shoulders to hold him still. Arieh’s eyes opened, looking down at him as a wicked grin took that sweet mouth. Enitan looked up into dark eyes that sparkled with a mischief that was no longer innocent and felt his throat contract. What had he done to this beautiful boy? Did Arieh really want to be here doing this or had Enitan somehow tricked him into it? Questions rumbled through his mind and he tightened his grip on Arieh’s arms when the young man started to move again, impatient to reach that pleasurable height Enitan had addicted him to.

EVERY GOOD THING 167 “Arieh,” he gasped, fingers flexing against smooth muscle. “Wait a moment. I need to—” Arieh’s hips rolled, cutting off Enitan’s words with a groan that was half arousal, half frustration. “Wait, please,” he tried again, one hand straying down to those wicked hips to hold them still. Arieh let the touch push them closer together, smiling as he arched his back, the muscles in his torso rippling with pleasure as the water of the bath splashed around them. Enitan closed his eyes against the sight and sensation. His lover was incredibly tempting but Enitan couldn’t escape the feeling that he was acting like a whore, playing a part to make Enitan happy. It tore at him painfully and he opened his eyes, determined to have this out. “Arieh, stop.” To his everlasting surprise, the boy did. “Am I doing it wrong?” Arieh asked, tilting his head. The sharp worry on his face made Enitan’s chest clench tighter. It made the emotions he’d seen there earlier look practiced and fake. “Should I not have come here?” “No, that isn’t it,” he murmured. His hand left Arieh’s shoulder to skim up his neck and cup his face, then push back through his curls. His hair was getting so long. It was beautiful, still so soft, that Enitan took a moment to sift his fingers through the dark strands. The water and steam had dampened it so that each curl stood out on its own, water dripping from the ends. “Arieh,” he said softly, knowing the tenderness and worry he felt were bleeding into his voice. “Are you happy? I mean... really, honestly happy.” Arieh’s expression flickered, but only for a moment before it was replaced with a wide smile. He ducked his head and licked a line from Enitan’s collarbone up to his ear, pausing at the top to nip lightly and nuzzle there. “Of course I am.” The words were muffled against Enitan’s skin and Enitan couldn’t help but notice that his lover’s eyes were hidden from him again. “Is that why you’re being so difficult?” Another nip, soothed with a sweet kiss. Arieh still wasn’t looking at him.

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Enitan closed his eyes and tilted his head, leaning against Arieh’s. The younger man stilled, hands fluttering nervously before they settled tentatively on Enitan’s chest. Enitan let his arms slide around Arieh, pulling the boy to him, and Arieh let out a breath that sounded like relief, returning the embrace. They were still for long moments before Arieh started wriggling. The hardness that bumped Enitan’s stomach under the water emphasized Arieh’s discomfort and Enitan chuckled. No point in being worried about something he couldn’t fix, and it was probably just the confusion of newly awakened sexuality. He’d had years to get used to his own; Arieh had only known about his for a few scant weeks. “Want to come?” Enitan murmured in Arieh’s ear, delighting in the shiver he got in response. Arieh nodded and Enitan chuckled, hands pressing against Arieh’s spine between his shoulder blades, then lower, at his hips. “Go on then,” he encouraged. “Move. Take what you want.” Arieh sucked in a breath, then started rocking again, loath to pull back from Enitan this time. Enitan held him and let him move for a while until Arieh’s motions became jerky, frustrated with his inability to reach the peak. Enitan stilled him briefly, then reached between them to grasp their cocks together in one large, rough palm. Arieh groaned, thrust once, and shuddered hard, gasping. Ah, the hot blood of youth. Enitan hadn’t quite caught up to him yet, but he simply held Arieh against his body with one hand while he finished himself off with the other. He came with his face pressed into his lover’s damp hair, his lungs breathing in the scent of steam, soap, and Arieh.

CHAPTER NINETEEN The house was, for once, peaceful. The kitchen staff had cleaned up after dinner, their work done for the day. All the slaves were on their own time. Demic was out somewhere, as he had been often lately, Enitan and Arieh were tucked away in their bedroom with the curtain tied closed, and Junia was relaxing at the low table in the kitchen with a cup of hot Anaci tea. She smiled to herself as she sipped the sweet-bitter brew, thinking of the way the rest of the house might as well not exist as far as her master and his lover were concerned. The two of them were utterly consumed with each other these days. “You seem happy.” The warm voice across from her made Junia smile more brightly, teeth flashing briefly before she took another sip of the tea Sariyah had brewed for them. “I was thinking how happy my master has been,” she answered. “Arieh has been good for him. They’re good for each other.” Sariyah returned her smile with a shy one of her own that made Junia fill a warm surge of protective instinct. “I’m glad he’s happy,” Sariyah said. “He’s a good man.” Junia made an affirming noise, thinking of the favor Enitan had done Sariyah in hiring her as a spy. In fact, Sariyah was here now because she’d brought some more information about the magician. After Junia had paid her, she’d invited Sariyah to stay and rest for a while. Yeira was exhausted and cranky from a day of following her mother around, since Marit hadn’t been able to watch her, and Junia had suggested allowing her to rest before the two of them started their walk back home. It was late now, and Junia had no intention of actually sending them out into the night. There were extra bedrooms. “Have you been having any trouble with the job?” Junia asked, choosing what she hoped would be a comfortable path

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of conversation. She always felt forceful and loud around the gentle dancer and hoped she could balance the scales for once. A faint frown appeared between Sariyah’s eyebrows at the question and she stared thoughtfully at the pile of blankets in the corner where Yeira had fallen asleep. “The only real trouble is that he stays in the enclave and I don’t dare cross the boundaries often.” Worry flashed through Junia and she put her cup down. “You’re not in any danger, are you?” Sariyah smiled, the expression warm and grateful. “No, I’m not. There are merchants, Riineans and others, who like to gossip and think I’m a perfectly harmless listener. They tell me things they wouldn’t tell your master, or even you, knowing you work for him. I don’t even have to go into the enclave at all.” Junia nodded, satisfied by this answer. They drank their tea in silence for a little while before Sariyah sat upright with a small sound of dismay. At Junia’s questioning glance, she colored lightly. “I just remembered something I forgot to tell your master. About the magician.” She looked down into her cup, fingers dancing nervously over the glazed clay surface. “He’s taken on an apprentice, according to one of the merchants. Some Riinean boy that got kicked out of the temple’s training program.” “An apprentice?” That was mildly alarming. “Do you think there’s any evidence that he’s collecting… supporters?” “Rebels, you mean? An army?” Junia nodded. “Not so far.” Sariyah took a sip of tea, a pensive expression crossing her face. “How would you feel, if he was?” she asked finally. “If Riinea staged an uprising, overthrew Keshen control. What would you think of that?” “Because the Keshen army invaded my homeland and took me captive?” Junia asked. Sariyah nodded. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t change anything, really. I wouldn’t be able to go home, and I have a good life here. I’d hate to risk losing it.

EVERY GOOD THING 171 And war is an ugly thing.” She took a swallow of her own tea, watching the dancer. “What about you? Keshe conquered E’ea as well.” Sariyah shrugged, one-shouldered and eloquent. “Riinea is no friend to E’ea, and Keshe has been good to us. Our commerce thrives now, and fewer of our children go hungry. And as you say, war is ugly.” There was a hesitation in her tone that piqued Junia’s curiosity. “But?” “But I like this man, what I know of him. And I wonder what your master’s pais would say about Riinea winning their independence at last.” Junia thought of Arieh, thought of the way he’d put the Vatan writings away and refused to see them. She wondered what he would do in that case. Would he demand to be freed? Would he go back to his country, to his family, to his gods that would deny him the happiness he seemed to be finding with Enitan? “All the same,” Junia said slowly, “I think it would be less complicated if they didn’t.” They finished their tea in comfortable silence, then Sariyah rose with a yawn. “It’s time I was getting home,” she murmured. “My brother…” She trailed off, distress flashing in her eyes for just a moment. “Will your brother be worried?” Junia asked quietly. She could send a messenger to him to let him know Sariyah and Yeira were all right. She didn’t want them walking home this late. “He probably isn’t even home.” Did Sariyah sound bitter? “He hasn’t been sleeping at home lately.” “Odd,” Junia murmured to herself. “Neither has Demic.” Sariyah grimaced and Junia pressed on to the real concern. “There is plenty of room for you and your daughter here,” Junia said, unperturbed by the hard look Sariyah gave her. “It’s late and the streets are unsafe. Wait until morning to return home.”

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Sariyah smiled wryly. “Isn’t that why there are soldiers like your master? To make the roads safe after nightfall?” “But my master is asleep with his lover in his arms. Stay here tonight. Please. I would be happier knowing you are safe. If nothing else, think of Yeira. Carrying her all that way would be cumbersome, and waking her now would be cruel.” Junia felt a thrill of triumph when she saw that she had convinced Sariyah. “Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you a room.” Sariyah scooped her daughter up carefully, cradling the girl against her shoulder with great tenderness, and followed Junia down the hall. She placed Yeira on the far side of the soft cushion that lay on the floor, piled high with pillows, then turned to Junia and paused. “Is there anything else you need?” Junia asked, pitching her voice low so as not to wake Yeira. “No.” Sariyah bowed low, her long, unbound hair brushing the tops of Junia’s feet. When she straightened again, her eyes caught Junia’s and held. “Thank you.” Junia swallowed, thoughts tumbling through her mind like the thunder of birds’ wings bursting into flight. All she said was “You’re welcome,” and left the room.

[\ The sun was already golden and climbing when Arieh woke, the day just beginning to warm from the chill of an autumn morning. Enitan wasn’t beside him, but that wasn’t unusual. He felt a mild pang of disappointment at having missed the warm, sleepy kisses of goodbye he shared with Enitan if he woke when the man left, but figured he’d make it up to him that evening. Heat rose to his face, quick and unquenchable, and he felt the little twinge of pain between his ribs and his stomach that he always did when he thought of Enitan and the things they did together. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness, flavored with impatience and sprinkled lightly with guilt. Even with the ghost of misgivings haunting him, Arieh was getting

EVERY GOOD THING 173 very good at ignoring the part of his upbringing that condemned what he felt with Enitan. It helped tremendously that he felt Ayh had abandoned him before he’d ever abandoned Ayh. He tried not to think about it very often as it usually inspired an unpleasant mix of hot resentment and anxious guilt and no small amount of confusion. By contrast, Enitan cared for him, a fact that was obvious— more than obvious. He was the center of Enitan’s world. He doubted Enitan could worship him with more devotion if he had his own shrine on Temple Street. Forced to choose between that and a distant god who presented him with only stony silence and the empty echoes of broken promises, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. He’d put away the Vatan books Junia had bought for him, unwilling to look at them and endure the overwhelming rush of unpleasant emotions they brought. Arieh yawned and stretched, feeling the thin blankets shift coolly over his skin. He wondered if Enitan had thicker blankets for the cooler months. It never got truly cold in Dega, but soon the covers they had wouldn’t be enough. It occurred to him, as he relaxed into the mattress, that it really hadn’t taken him too long to adjust to his new life of leisure. It felt more peaceful to be cared for the way he was; doted on and spoiled by someone he could please so easily. His life before had never been about gaining approval—there was no time for praise, there was always something else that needed to be done—and he found he loved giving pleasure as much as he liked receiving it. With that happy thought, he slid out of bed, wriggling into his tunic and trousers and admiring his own flesh as it was covered by cloth. Enitan enjoyed his body so much, he was starting to admire it himself. The bronze and copper bracelet caught in the sleeve of the tunic and he pulled it back down to dangle around his wrist, fingers lingering warmly on its metal braid. A throat being cleared at the doorway made him jump, his heart thudding painfully with surprise. Demic stood there, looking as if he’d rather muck out the stables than be where he was.

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Arieh fidgeted. He always felt hopelessly awkward around Demic, unsure of what to do or say. The slave was older than Arieh, but Enitan had made it clear that Arieh outranked him. As much as he liked his new life as Enitan’s pais, he hadn’t grown up commanding slaves and it didn’t feel right to start now. He wished Demic would just say what he wanted, but the man seemed to be waiting for Arieh’s cue. He bit back the urge to apologize for inconveniencing the man as he remembered that Demic had approached him. “Yes?” he finally managed, even that small word leaving his mouth clumsily. “A messenger brought a gift for you,” Demic said, looking so sour about it that Arieh wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the gift might be. He held out a square box that fit easily in both of Arieh’s hands but was heavier than he’d expected at first. “Ah,” Arieh said, clearing his throat. “Um, thank you.” Demic seemed to be waiting for something. “Was there something else?” “That depends,” Demic said as if Arieh was being purposefully dense. “Do you require anything?” “Oh. No. You, um… you may go.” Arieh let his breath out when Demic left, his shoulders sagging in relief. He looked down at the box in his hand. It was stamped with a device in wax that looked oddly familiar. He couldn’t place it and it tugged at some vague corner of his memory as he opened the lid and looked inside. There was a small piece of thick parchment lying on top, with heavy black Keshen words written on it. He didn’t recognize most of the characters and gave up trying to read them when he saw the object the parchment had concealed. It looked like the spinning toys that the children in his neighborhood played with, but longer and not as wide. Unlike those crude wooden toys, it was golden, gleaming in the sunlight, and one end—the end that he would have held to spin it if it had been one of those toys—was studded with a very large, very bright red gemstone. When he picked it up, it was

EVERY GOOD THING 175 cold and heavy in his hand, and when he tried to spin it, it fell over on its side with a clunk. It was beautiful, but obviously not made for spinning. The problem was, he didn’t know what it was made for. Confused, he put it back in the box and looked at the parchment again. He furrowed his brow as he studied the letters closely, hoping that the words would give him some clue as to the purpose of the odd gift. The same device that was stamped into the wax seal on the box was stamped in ink at the bottom of the parchment, and Arieh stared at it for long minutes until his eyes ached, but he still couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before. He put it aside and went out into the garden, deciding he’d ask Enitan when he got home. That turned out to be much sooner than he’d expected, as he heard the clatter of the gelding’s hooves while the sun was still high. Leaving behind his weeding and watering, brushing the dirt from his hands and arms, Arieh went out to meet him. He felt himself smiling and couldn’t stop it, could barely keep himself to a walk instead of flying over the ground into the stables. He wanted to hold and touch, wanted to feel Enitan against him again. His skin felt tight, as if the feeling inside was swelling him to bursting, and he wanted to press his nose into Enitan’s body, cuddle close against him and feel Enitan’s hands clutching him closer still. He never felt close enough. Enitan was slipping the bridle from the gelding’s head when Arieh swept into the stable. His big, work roughened hands were stroking the horse’s nose and jaw as he kept up a low murmur of encouraging sounds. Arieh paused for a moment, smiling at the sight of Enitan’s gentleness with the animal, but watching wasn’t enough. He crept up quietly behind the other man, careful not to make a sound until he’d slipped his arms around Enitan’s waist and pressed his face into the back of Enitan’s neck. His nose fit just perfectly against the bone where neck became back, and he breathed in the scent of leather and sweat.

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Enitan flinched in surprise, then chuckled, laying one hand across Arieh’s arms over his stomach. “You’re home early,” Arieh said, his voice muffled by the thick leather armor. “You seem happy about that,” Enitan responded, his own smile audible. He stepped back from the horse’s stall to let Pol the stable boy in, carefully pushing Arieh back with him. When they were a safe distance away from the animal, Enitan loosened Arieh’s grip until he could turn in his arms then pulled Arieh back against his chest. “I am,” Arieh said, feeling the way his body naturally arched into Enitan’s, the way his eyes kept wanting to close, and his mouth felt empty, almost lonely. He tilted his chin up in a way he’d learned was likely to get him a kiss, sighing in relief when Enitan took the hint and leaned down. Enitan’s lips were dry and cracked, but his tongue was wet and gentle like always, pushing slowly into Arieh’s mouth and caressing him. Arieh tasted a bare hint of rich herbs and spices lingering under Enitan’s own flavor, as if he’d had something particularly savory for lunch. Arieh licked deeper, wanting more. Finally, when a need for air drove him to break the kiss, he closed his eyes and leaned in. Enitan’s mouth pressed against his forehead briefly in a tender caress before they tucked against each other, Arieh’s face pressed to Enitan’s shoulder, arms locked in embrace. Enitan kissed the top of his ear before saying quietly, “Let’s go to the house. I need a bath.” “Bath takes too long,” Arieh protested. While he had enjoyed the time he’d joined Enitan in the baths, the water had made things so slippery he hadn’t been able to get the kind of balance and closeness he’d wanted. Right now, he wanted Enitan in their bed. “I stink,” Enitan said, but still made no move to remove Arieh’s arms from around his body. “You smell fine.” Arieh flicked his tongue over Enitan’s neck. “Taste good, too.” Enitan groaned, arms tightening

EVERY GOOD THING 177 reflexively. Arieh let his teeth nip gently where he’d just licked. “You can bathe afterward.” “All right,” Enitan said, sounding hoarse and a little breathless. “You convinced me.” He extracted himself from Arieh’s grip and looked down at him. Arieh followed his gaze and saw the dark dirt on his arms, the finger shaped streaks on his tunic, and the two round spots on his trouser knees. “You look like you could use a bath as well,” Enitan noted. Arieh frowned a little. Enitan bathed more than anyone Arieh had ever met. He wondered if that was just another cultural difference, but remembered that no family he knew in the enclave had a bath nearly as luxurious as Enitan’s. If they’d had hot water and privacy, it might have been more tempting. “Come on,” Enitan said, kissing the tip of Arieh’s nose before he took Arieh’s hand and started toward the house. Arieh noticed that Pol was carefully not looking at them, the suggestion of embarrassment in his carefully blank expression. A cold splash of fear in his stomach accompanied the realization that Pol had just seen their display, but he assured himself that Pol would not care. He’d been working for Enitan for a long time, and Enitan didn’t bother hiding his sexuality. The edgy shyness plagued him as they walked through the house. Enitan was holding his hand and they were obviously headed for the bedroom with no detours planned. Arieh was aware of the slaves watching them, some of them smiling. Were they pleased to see their master happy, or were they mocking him behind his back? He felt tremors shudder through his body underneath the heat of longing and cursed himself for seducing Enitan in the stables. He should have been more discreet, he should have— “What’s this?” Arieh’s attention snapped to the box Enitan held in his hand. “Oh,” he said. “I don’t know who sent that. I didn’t recognize the seal, and I can’t read the handwriting on the note. It’s a toy, I think.” “A toy?” Enitan let go of Arieh’s hand to hold the box. He opened the lid and set it aside, lifting out the note. A glance at

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the object inside had one of his eyebrows winging upward. “It’s from Ules. The seal is the signa of Bruhl.” He held the note out to Arieh. “It says In belated celebration of your akienda.” “This is for the akienda?” Arieh asked, looking at the strange toy again. “But it’s so top heavy, it wouldn’t even spin.” A grin quirked Enitan’s mouth. “It’s not that kind of toy,” he said cryptically. The look on his face was the same one he wore when their lovemaking turned mischievous, but Arieh couldn’t figure out what sexual thing might be accomplished with the jeweled object. “What…” He swallowed thickly, tried again. “What’s it for?” Enitan gave him an evaluating look and took long moments before he spoke. “There are ways of pleasure I haven’t taught you yet,” he finally said. “This is for one of them.” Arieh blinked, heat rushing to his face as his body reacted instantly. “I want to learn,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth without his consent. “All right,” Enitan said, drawing the words out thoughtfully. “But we’ll save the toy for another time. I want it to be just me now.” He drew Arieh over to the bed and undressed him gently, fingers drawing lingering paths over the skin he exposed. Arieh was trembling again, but with desire this time instead of embarrassment. When Enitan reached for a tiny bottle of yellow oil on the bedside table, Arieh smiled. Enitan had used the oil before to smooth the way for their hands when they touched each other. “Lie down on the bed,” he told Arieh. “On your stomach.” Surprised, Arieh did as he was told. Enitan drew warm, dry fingers down his spine, stopping at the swell of his buttocks. The fingers disappeared. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, then the hands were back between his shoulders, retracing the line down the center of his back. This time they were slick with oil, and he didn’t stop at Arieh’s buttocks, but pushed between.

EVERY GOOD THING 179 Arieh tensed, but when Enitan froze in place, he eventually relaxed. The tip of one finger pushed inside and Arieh gasped. It felt strange, but not bad. The oil-slicked finger slid in further, then back out again. Slowly, Enitan repeated the action, pressing upward against the wall of smooth flesh and muscle as he pulled out. A strangled groan stumbled out of Arieh’s chest. It felt good now. His hips shifted, looking for pressure on the hardness trapped beneath his body, but the mattress cushion was too soft and gave under his thrusts. He whimpered. Behind him, Enitan laughed softly, pulled his hips up into the air, away from the mattress, and pushed a second finger in beside the first. Arieh yelped, then moaned as the fingers pressed further in, twisting. “All right?” Enitan asked. Arieh gasped out an affirmative answer, and then there were three fingers moving inside of him. That hurt, that was too much, and he cried out, but before the sound faded away it was all right, it was better, it was good. Enitan stopped, calling his name in a worried tone, but Arieh just panted quietly, unable to find his breath or his voice long enough to reassure him. “I’m pulling out now,” Enitan said, apology and care in his voice, and Arieh shook his head, tightening his muscles to keep those fingers inside. “Arieh?” “No,” Arieh managed. “More.” “Are you sure?” “Please.” Carefully, so gently, the fingers inside of him twisted, turned, and he shook as he felt like Enitan was taking his body and pulling it open like a flower bud, one petal at a time, coaxing him wider. Enitan leaned down low over him, chest pressing into Arieh’s back, and whispered in his ear. “Ready?” Ready for what? Before he could find the words for the question, Enitan’s fingers were gone. He looked over his shoulder, groaning in

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instinctive anticipation when one of Enitan’s hands gripped his hip. Enitan’s other hand was slicking more oil along his cock, the flesh glistening in the lamplight. Arieh shuddered when the fingers of that oil-slick hand breached his body again briefly before grasping Enitan’s cock and holding it steady against him. Then Enitan was pushing inside and white streaks blurred through Arieh’s vision as the pressure split him open. Finally, the movement stopped for a moment, Enitan’s hips flush against Arieh’s, both of them panting, loud and ragged. “Okay?” Enitan asked, and the word was distorted, mangled by the rasp in Enitan’s voice and the blood rushing in his own ears. Arieh couldn’t answer, could barely nod, but Enitan must have seen or known, because he started moving. It was as if Arieh was a tree and a whirlwind took him, scattering blossoms and leaves in all directions. His thoughts were fragments of refracted sensation, nothing but movement and heat and the knowledge that finally, he almost had Enitan as close as he wanted him. His arms and chest felt empty, as if he wanted to clutch something close, and he twisted, reaching out for his lover. Enitan stopped with some effort, a stuttering halt of his hips, and reached out to touch his face with one shaking hand. “What is it?” “I want to hold you,” Arieh managed to whisper, and Enitan’s eyes flashed. He pulled out carefully and helped Arieh turn over, helped him raise his knees so that Enitan could slide back in where he’d been. Enitan lowered his body carefully until they were pressed together, until Arieh felt sheltered and safe and connected. They lay still for a moment, catching their breath. Arieh slid his arms around Enitan’s back, holding on tight. The first time Enitan’s hips moved, Arieh felt himself crack. The second and third time, and then a steady motion, and Arieh shattered. He arched against Enitan, convulsing, gasping, as his body turned inside out. Enitan kissed him, stealing breath he didn’t

EVERY GOOD THING 181 have, and then he was jerking too, hard shudders wracking them both. They were reluctant to move, staying locked together even when Arieh began to feel warmth trickle out of the opening that still held Enitan lodged deep inside. Their breathing calmed, slowed, and the whirling petals in his mind finally floated to the ground. He felt wrung out, exhaustion creeping over him in a twilight of sleep, and just before he dropped off, he felt Enitan’s lips move against his cheek and heard him whisper. “I love you.” Arieh fell asleep smiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY Being apprenticed to a magician was nothing like he had expected. He had left his parents’ home, as most apprentices did, to live with his new master. After a month of following Ashar around, eating with him, sleeping beside him, Suqua knew more of his home and the world outside its boundaries than he had learned in all the years previous. Used to a carefully structured life of rules and restraints observed carefully by the priests, Suqua found Ashar’s relaxed, intuitive lifestyle almost chaotic. The man never had a plan for what part of the enclave he was going to visit next, always saying that he was going “wherever the wind blows me.” Also different from his former experience, Suqua found that Ashar didn’t lecture him on things. Instead of spending long hours listening to unsolicited instruction, Suqua discovered that he learned very little from his new master unless he asked questions. Furthermore, he had to ask the right questions. As unbalanced as he felt faced with these new challenges, however, Suqua wouldn’t have traded his apprenticeship for the world. Ashar Int’ea was even more amazing up close than he had been by word of mouth or from the branches of a nearby tree. Quick to laugh, quicker to help, he was full of good will and easy, unpretentious wisdom so different from the stuffy lessons of the temple. Suqua was enamored of him—his warm brown eyes, his ready smile, the deep booming laugh whenever he was delighted by some peculiar thing. If he was the promised Deliverer, he was nothing like Suqua had expected and everything he could have hoped for. The small dragon, Elpis, had warmed to Suqua rather quickly as well, chirruping and snorting out small puffs of happy flame at the sight of him. Ashar had given him a thick leather piece to wear over his shoulder so Elpis could perch on Suqua’s shoulder as she did on Ashar’s. Elpis had taken to sleeping with Suqua sometimes as well, her small body curled

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up on his chest like a fire heated stone, radiating warmth through him. Ashar seemed pleased by his pet’s attachment to Suqua, smiling anytime the dragon flapped her way over to Suqua for affection, which Suqua gladly gave. Today, Elpis was sprawled across Suqua’s lap like an oversized, scaly cat, her clawed feet twitching dangerously close to his thighs as she slept. Suqua was stroking her head and neck, and the occasional puff of smoke hiccupped from her nostrils as she snored. “She likes you,” Ashar observed, lowering himself to the ground to sit beside Suqua. He studied the dragon with fondness but made no move to pet her. “She’s got a good sense about people.” They were resting in a house that belonged to a woman Ashar had healed of a disease that had been eating away at her bones. To celebrate being able to stand and work again, she’d begged them to stay with her and allow her to cook dinner for them. Ashar accepted graciously, and Suqua could hear her in the kitchen of her small house, just two rooms away from them. “I’ve never seen a dragon before,” Suqua murmured, his fingers lingering on the top of Elpis’s head for a moment. “I thought they were only legends. The priests said they were only used as a symbol of destruction.” “The priests, contrary to their own opinions, do not know many things they wish they did,” Ashar said, an unfamiliar edge of hardness to his voice. “But she is real enough. She was a gift to me from a rich man in Ekias whose daughter I healed.” “You’ve been to Ekias?” Suqua blurted. He himself had never been outside the enclave, like most of his countrymen. “I’ve been many places,” Ashar answered mysteriously. “I lived in Ekias for several years, studying magic.” He smiled. “You have only seen me as a healer, but I possess many more powers than you’ve seen.” “Are you—” Suqua realized what he was about to say and clamped his mouth shut. “Am I what, Suqua Ar’ea?”

EVERY GOOD THING 185 Suqua felt his face heat. Ashar only called him by his full name when he was teasing. “I only meant—nevermind.” “No.” All the teasing had gone from Ashar’s voice, and his eyes were serious as they locked onto Suqua’s. “There is no ‘nevermind.’ You are safe to say whatever you want when you are with me, Suqua. We are master and apprentice; we will work better together without secrets between us.” Suqua gulped. He wished that were true, but he remembered too well the look on Master Ylla’s face the day Suqua had told him about the dream he’d had in which a man had loved him as if he were a woman. He couldn’t tell Ashar about that. He couldn’t stand to lose this apprenticeship. Losing the temple was bad enough, losing Ashar would be unbearable. That wasn’t what he’d been about to say, however. “I was only thinking of how some say you are the promised Deliverer, and others say you are a sham, or worse, a sorcerer with evil powers. If you lived in Ekias—” Suqua broke off, embarrassed. He didn’t want to believe any of those dreadful things about Ashar, but he couldn’t deny that he wondered if he was wrong to believe in the man like he did. Ashar smiled, but it was a pale shadow of his normal expression. “Suqua,” he said, reaching over to lay his hand over Suqua’s where it rested on Elpis’s head. “You have been with me for a month now. You have seen many things, and heard more than that before you were with me. Apart from everything people say—the merchants, the priests, the carpenters and farmers and metalworkers and basket weavers— what do you think of me?” The way Ashar was looking at him, as if a great many things depended on his answer, made Suqua’s throat slam shut. He could barely breathe, much less form words. Just as he was arranging his thoughts into something resembling coherence, there was a loud banging at the door, voices shouting. “In the name of the Inpsu and of Keshe, you are commanded to open the door and surrender Ashar Int’ea immediately.”

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“What’s going on?” Suqua murmured, worried, as Elpis woke from her nap with a snort of flame and smoke, her wings unfurling and twitching. “Nothing for you to worry about,” Ashar said. “Stay here. Be quiet, and do not come looking for me.” “No,” Suqua said, his voice trembling. Cold fear squeezed his heart when Ashar gave him a sharp look. “No,” he said again. “I’m your apprentice. I’m coming with you.” “You’re my apprentice and you’ll do as I say and keep yourself safe,” Ashar growled. “Keep Elpis with you. I don’t want her being hurt either.” Their hostess was arguing with the Keshen soldiers through the door now and Ashar got to his feet, placing the palm of his hand flat on the top of Suqua’s head to keep him from standing as well. Suqua crawled to the doorway of the room, peeking around. He could barely see the front door from that angle, and Elpis perched on his shoulder. He winced; he wasn’t wearing the leather guard, and her claws were sharp, but he didn’t remove her. She seemed agitated, watching carefully. They watched as Ashar spoke gently to their hostess, moving her away from the door before he opened it. Two broad shouldered Keshen soldiers stood outside, glowering. They had another man with them, short and thin with long silver hair, dressed in the robes of a Keshen court sorcerer. Ashar nodded to them and Suqua realized for the first time how young Ashar looked when compared to the other men. He didn’t even know how old Ashar really was; he seemed ancient, with his expansive knowledge of the world, but at the same time almost boyish in his disposition. “Ashar Int’ea, you are suspected of possessing Dust of Dr’uisa, an illegal substance in the enclave of Riinea as agreed in their treaty with the Inpsu. You must submit to an examination of your person by the sorcerers of the Inpsu’s court.” “Of course,” Ashar said easily. “But I have never possessed Dust of Dr’uisa. Who told you I did?”

EVERY GOOD THING 187 “It is reported that you healed a man whose tongue had been cut out, that you gifted him with a new one. This can only be done with Dust of Dr’uisa. Do you deny having performed this act?” Ashar looked at them as if they were speaking some unknown language, although Suqua wondered for a moment how many languages Ashar actually knew. “Yes, I performed the act,” he said, “But I did not use Dust of Dr’uisa. It can be done without Dust.” “All the same,” the soldier said, “You must submit to an examination by the sorcerers.” “Here?” Ashar asked, but the soldier shook his head, reaching out to fasten shackles around Ashar’s wrist. “You will come with us to the palace.” “Very well,” Ashar said mildly, accepting the shackles with barely a raised eyebrow. Suqua’s chest burned and he sprang to his feet with a strangled shout, startling Elpis, who flapped into flight, her wingtip and the claws of one foot glancing off Suqua’s face. He barely felt the scratches or the warm blood that trickled from them, focused as he was on his master. One of the soldiers leveled a spear toward him, the other’s hand went to his sword, and Ashar jerked around, panic on his face. “No! Suqua, you stay here. I will come for you here, so do not leave.” The soldier with the spear tapped Ashar with the blunt end, growling at him to be quiet. The other soldier, his hand still on the sword hilt, turned to the wizened old man who accompanied them. “Shall we take the boy, too?” he asked, but the old man shook his head. “No boy of that age could handle the Dust without being permanently disfigured,” the old man said dismissively. “Leave him. He’s harmless.”

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Ashar let out a loud breath that sounded like relief, and Suqua shook his head. “Take me, too!” Suqua insisted, but Ashar’s voice cut through his plea like a whip crack. “Suqua! Do as I say! Stay here, and I will come for you when this is over. I promise.” Suqua froze, unable to deny the fire in the eyes he loved so well. “But…” “Suqua, please.” The look on Ashar’s face stole his breath, and Suqua could do nothing but nod. The soldiers escorted Ashar out of the house, closing the door behind him, and Suqua sank to the floor in a stupor. Elpis fluttered to the low table in front of him, a burbling sound of distress squawking out of her throat. “I know,” he said to the dragon. “I know. But it’s okay. He said he’d come back. He promised.” The woman who had invited them into her home was looking at the closed door with an expression of disbelief. Suqua looked at her carefully. “Ma’am? I’m sure he’ll be back. It’s a mistake. He’s never used anything illegal.” “Of course, honey,” she said finally, coming back to herself with a shaky smile. “Do you want some dinner while we wait on him?” Afterward, sitting in darkness, jumping at every sound, Suqua barely remembered he’d eaten at all, much less what the food had been or how it had tasted. It sat like a stone in his belly, threatening to choke him every time his stomach roiled with nervousness. By the time the moon rose, round and yellow, he was a wreck. He must have fallen asleep as he waited, Elpis sleeping restlessly on his lap, because he woke to find his face being stroked. He flinched violently, but Ashar’s voice soothed him with gentle shushing noises.

EVERY GOOD THING 189 “You should have cleaned this,” Ashar said, his fingers brushing over Suqua’s cheek. “It could get worse, turn to fever.” The skin on Suqua’s cheekbone itched, but he couldn’t remember why at first. Then it came back to him in a flash; Elpis’s sharp tipped wing, her razor-like claws, the feel of his flesh opening under the glancing blows. “You’re back,” Suqua said hoarsely, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words left his mouth. “I told you I would be back,” Ashar rebuked gently. “I haven’t used Dust, so there isn’t any way the sorcerers would have found it on me. I know spells their sorcerers have never heard of; they need Dust of Dr’uisa for making things grow back, but I don’t. That is the difference between sorcery and magic—they use their charms and potions while I use only the power within me.” The fingers on Suqua’s cheek were warm and gentle, still lingering, and Suqua could feel the heat from them all the way down his throat into his chest. Suqua leaned into the touch and the next thing he knew, Ashar was gathering him into his arms. Suqua had been frightened beyond reason when Ashar was taken, but he could feel fine tremors running through his master’s body now. “Next time I ask you to stay out of sight,” Ashar said roughly, his mouth next to Suqua’s ear, “Please do as I ask. Not because I’m your master and you’re my apprentice, but because I don’t want you to be hurt.” Suqua nodded but couldn’t find it in himself to agree in words. Ashar sighed heavily, accepting the nod. “It’s late.” Ashar let go of him, pulling away a little. Elpis woke with a disgruntled snort and flapped onto Ashar’s shoulder, pressing her narrow head against his neck and twining her tail around his arm. Ashar chuckled at the display and petted her. “We should sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll go somewhere else.” “All right.” He led Ashar to the rough mattresses of woven grass that the woman had laid out for them, resisting the urge to put them together so they could sleep closely. As it was, Elpis

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slept between them, her head resting on Ashar’s arm and her tail stretched out to wrap around Suqua’s wrist. Suqua didn’t think he would ever relax enough to fall asleep, but exhaustion won in the end.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Zakai was decimating Demic’s finances. He’d drained his savings and was steadily chipping away at his salary, but he was addicted. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but having Zakai sharpened the hunger that had always simmered for his master. He wanted Enitan more now than he ever had, and the more he tried to slake his thirst with Zakai’s body, the more he wanted Enitan instead. It was driving him mad. The bell over the apothecary’s door gave a familiar clang as he pushed through it. The little man behind the counter looked up and grimaced eloquently. “I don’t have any,” he said without preamble. “I’m sorry?” Demic said, eyebrows arching. “I said I don’t have any. The powder you’ve been buying up, that is. I won’t have any for a long time.” Demic felt cold wash through him, a bright spark of anger flaring in the depths of the chill. His fingers twitched and there was a tickle in the back of his throat. He wanted the powder, worse than he had before he knew he couldn’t have it. It had mild magical properties, enhancing the pleasure of touch when spread across the skin. Zakai had been the first to introduce him to it and he loved the levels of thought numbing bliss he reached when they used it. “Why not?” “Gods-be-damned Riinean magician,” the apothecary grumbled. “He’s moved on from party tricks and on to spells the sorcerers don’t even know. They can’t prove he’s been using any magical items, but they’ve forbidden us from selling them anyway. It’ll be weeks before I can sell you anything stronger than dinner spices.” The spark became a flame and Demic clenched his fists. “That’s not possible,” he said through clenched teeth. The apothecary shrugged, irritation written all through his body language.

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“Can’t help it,” he said, scowling. “It’s what we get for letting the Riineans keep their enclave. Army should’ve killed them when they wouldn’t surrender. It’s not like they’ve ever contributed anything to us. They’re just trouble.” “That they are, in more ways than one,” Demic agreed, thinking of his master, so besotted with the useless slave boy. The pais was the embodiment of everything wrong with Riines, so wrapped up in their self-righteousness that they caused pain to everyone around them, full of wicked manipulations and sorcery. The boy had stolen the one person Demic had ever wanted, and now one of his race was stealing the only solace Demic had left. His body felt too hot and the tickle in his throat spread up through his nose, down through his chest. Anger consumed him and he clenched his hand around the purse of coins he brought with him. “Anyway, they seized my supplies, so I don’t have any to give you even if I were willing to risk their wrath by selling you any. Leave the information where I can reach you, and when they give it back to me, I’ll send a messenger to let you know I’ve got it in.” Demic studied the little man for a moment. “Do you have any essence of kal?” The apothecary blinked. “It’s not that bad, man,” he said. “I’ll have the powder back in just a week or so. Not worth killing yourself over.” “Not for me,” Demic said with a slash of his hand. “There are other problems I have to take care of. My master’s house has an infestation of pests.” The man hesitated, but he had to know that it could be much longer than a week before he got his magical substances back, and the non-magical items sold for much lower prices. He needed all the business he could get. “All right,” he said finally. “How much do you need?” Demic took out two coins and laid them on the man’s counter. “As much as that will buy.”

EVERY GOOD THING 193 The man pocketed the coins. “That’ll buy you plenty of poison,” he said, turning to his wall of cubbyholes. He used a tiny silver spoon to scoop several ounces of lavender crystals into a small pouch, which he handed over to Demic. “Careful you don’t mix those with anything you’ll be eating,” he said, “And don’t handle them with your bare hands. They’ll soak right through your skin. When you put it out for the vermin, keep it away from the kitchen area or anywhere people might go.” “Thank you,” Demic said. “Be sure you let me know when you can start selling powder again.” “Certainly,” the man said with a slight bow as Demic left. “Thank you for your business.”

[\ Kallias had worked in a fair number of kitchens in his day and had dealt with all kinds of nuisances and interruptions, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone underfoot had amused him this much. “Careful you don’t tip that—bowl. Nevermind.” Kallias chuckled as Enitan Viden’s pais scowled down at the white tunic he wore, now liberally splashed with the red berries Kallias had been saucing for dessert. “You know, I could probably get dinner ready for you a lot faster if you didn’t keep spilling things.” “Sorry,” Arieh mumbled, his expression growing distressed at the sight of the berries on the kitchen floor. “I just…” “I know,” Kallias laughed, reaching out to rumple the boy’s hair. Arieh might be an emancipated adult and pais to a kentari, and taller than Kallias besides, but he still brought out all of Kallias’s paternal instincts. It made him start thinking that maybe he should bring up the issue of children with his own wife. “I promise I’ll make it an excellent dinner for you.” Arieh had come bounding into the kitchen nearly an hour earlier, declaring that he had something special he wanted to announce to his lover, and could Kallias make certain that dinner was extra special that night.

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“He’s so much happier when he’s enjoyed his dinner,” Arieh had noted. Kallias thought, but didn’t say, that Viden more likely enjoyed Arieh’s recently adoring gazes over their food more than the food itself. “Perhaps you’d better go get that tunic to someone for washing before it stains,” Kallias noted, and Arieh frowned. “But…” “Young man, I do not want to be the first man Viden sees when he comes home to you looking as if someone has cut your heart out and painted your tunic with it.” Arieh gave him a sly smile, as if realizing exactly what his lover’s reaction would be and relishing it. Kallias reflected on how much the boy had changed since the first time he’d seen him, cowering and shy behind Viden, lost outside the confines of his familiar enclave. It was a testament to the way Viden treated the boy, Kallias thought. “I’ll change when we’re done,” Arieh said airily, and Kallias thought about telling him that he was done, but Arieh was having so much fun helping prepare the food that Kallias found he didn’t have the heart to run him out of the kitchen. “Well, as long as you’re staying around, how about cleaning up the berries you just used to paint the floor.” Color suffused Arieh’s skin and Kallias couldn’t help but chuckle. While Arieh cleaned up the berries, Kallias took the opportunity to devote his undivided attention to herbs he was mixing together for the marinade. So occupied with getting the smell and the taste exactly right, he didn’t realize anyone else had entered the kitchen until he heard Arieh apologizing. He looked up sharply just in time to see Arieh take two stumbling steps backward, away from Demic, who had just entered the kitchen. Demic’s eyes were fixed below Arieh’s face, somewhere around his chest. “Is that—are you bleeding?” Two high spots of color marked Demic’s face and he sounded a little breathless.

EVERY GOOD THING 195 “What? Oh, no,” Arieh answered, sounding embarrassed. He swiped a hand across the front of his tunic. “I spilled berries.” “Oh.” Kallias wondered for a brief, unsettling moment if he was imagining the look of disappointment on Demic’s face. “You should have that washed before it stains.” Instead of arguing with Demic as he had with Kallias, Arieh simply nodded. “I’ll do that right away.” Arieh put the clay bowl back on the table and dashed out of the kitchen, looking somehow as if he was fleeing. “Demic, I do believe that boy’s terrified of you,” Kallias observed, not entirely joking. Demic shrugged. “I’ve never given him reason to be,” he sniffed. “What was he doing in the kitchen, anyway?” “He came to request that dinner tonight be ‘special.’ It seems he has a surprise planned for your master.” “A surprise…?” “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. I assume it’s something between the two of them.” Demic looked away for a moment, his expression suggesting that he might be contemplating being ill. “Is it your master’s birthday?” “No,” Demic said. His voice sounded strangely tight. “Today is six months to the day that the master threw a feast to introduce his pais.” “Oh.” Kallias paused for a moment, calculating mentally. “I guess you’re right. Hunh.” He indulged in a smile while he bent to take another breath of the herb mixture, closing his eyes to concentrate better on his nose. Maybe a little more lemongrass. “Things sure have changed since then.” There was no response from Demic and Kallias turned to see that the kitchen was empty. A chill ran down his spine, but he shook it off and went back to cooking. “Well,” he said to no one in particular, “At least I can finally get some work done.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO “Just like old times.” Enitan looked up at the jovial voice, smiling when Kayin Ulfram stood beside him. His former second in command looked happy to see him, and Enitan missed his old crew. Being on tax duty was miserable for more reasons than one. “Good to see you, Kayin,” Enitan said. “How’s the new assignment treating you?” Kayin made a face and Enitan chuckled in sympathy. “It’s wonderful,” Kayin said, far too brightly. There were too many of their fellows standing around for either of them to risk saying what they really thought of tax collecting. They were accompanying their assessors to the auctions to sell off the items they had collected for taxes. They would take their share of the profits and go home rich men in a few hours, but for now they stood in the heat and the dust and waited. “How’s Sobhi?” The casual conversation wasn’t something Enitan was used to, but it beat standing around in silence. “She’s good,” Kayin answered, a smile creeping across his face. “Pregnant.” “Oh! Well congratulations, then.” “Thank you. How’s your pais?” “He’s fine.” Enitan smirked. “Not pregnant.” Kayin laughed, loud enough to draw a few stares. “I’m sure he’s glad about that.” The conversation faded then, reduced to an observation here, a murmured comment there, until a commotion toward the edge of the crowd drew their attention. “It’s the Riinean detail,” Kayin said, catching a glimpse of the soldiers who had just arrived. “Their tax season is over this

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year but they haven’t been reassigned yet and they’re upset about it.” “Why haven’t they been reassigned?” Enitan hadn’t heard much of anything, his days being occupied with getting his work done and getting home to Arieh. “You’ve heard about the magician that’s popped up?” When Enitan nodded, Kayin continued. “Apparently he’s on to spells they think he needs illegal magical items for. They haven’t been able to prove it yet, though, so the Riinean detail is still on assignment in the enclave, looking for evidence to arrest him on.” Enitan made a thoughtful noise. This was a bit of useful information. “Have they found anything yet?” “Not a thing,” Kayin said. “They’ve taken him in for questioning once, but they didn’t find anything on him or any evidence that he was lying. He’s causing quite a stir. Even the Riines aren’t sure if they like him or not.” “With the added military attention in the enclave, I can imagine.” The conversation lulled again as the soldiers assigned to the enclave quieted down, but this time Enitan’s mind was whirling. It could have just been because of Arieh that Enitan paid much more attention to things coming out of the enclave these days, but something about this magician caught his attention, as if some primal instinct buried deep inside was saying, “This will be important.” Kayin’s group was done before Enitan’s, and Enitan watched his former second in command leave with something akin to resentment. He hated everything about his “promotion.” He hated collecting the taxes, hated selling things at the market, hated splitting up the excess with the others and knowing that somewhere, some other kentari like himself had walked home with heavy pockets after selling Arieh. And he hated that, on some level, he was grateful for it. He especially hated losing his men, though. His group of soldiers had become a comfortable little cadre for him, and it rankled that they’d been taken from him and split up among the collectors.

EVERY GOOD THING 199 Never thought I would wish for the slave market again. When they finally let him go, Enitan’s purse was heavier and he comforted himself with the thought that at least the extra income was helping make up what he’d spent on Arieh and the akienda, even with what he was paying his E’ean spy. He found himself hoping Sariyah would show up with a new tidbit of information soon. Knowing what he did about the military’s movements, he would be intrigued to find out if she could give him an idea of what the situation looked like from the other side. The road home from the market was familiar and Enitan was growing fond of it. It was strange, he reflected, how even a simple routine such as returning home from work took on new meaning and a rosy kind of glow when someone was waiting at the end of the road. He had the next day off from work, in fact, and was looking forward to spending it with his lover. The moon was waxing, almost full; maybe they could walk together in the gardens by moonlight. He knew Arieh had just planted some moonflowers and golden evening glories; it would be a nicely secluded place to enjoy each other’s company. At home, he handed the gelding’s reins over to Pol, feeling a mild twinge of regret when Arieh didn’t ambush him in the stables again. A quick perusal of the garden showed that Arieh wasn’t there, either, so Enitan headed toward the house, feeling like a hunter on the prowl. He guessed that the thrill of newness would wear off eventually, but for now it was heady and addictive to have Arieh eager and responsive, even aggressive at times. Demic met him at the door, an unreadable expression on his face that gave Enitan pause. He couldn’t place what might lie behind the strange tilt of Demic’s lips, however, and attributed it to his own strange mood that he thought anything of it at all. Demic had always been a little odd, if he thought about it; haughty to the point that it amused Enitan deeply. “Master,” Demic said now. “Your bath waits.” “Where’s Arieh?” Enitan asked, wondering if his pais was waiting along with the bath. He remembered Arieh being in

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too much of a hurry for a soak and smiled. After he’d allowed the boy a short nap, they’d bathed together, warm and slick in each other’s arms. They still hadn’t used the toy that Ules had sent over, but Enitan hadn’t forgotten about it. Caught up in these thoughts, he almost didn’t notice the flicker of displeasure in Demic’s face at the question. Enitan frowned, then shrugged. Demic had always hated to have his plans circumvented. “He is in your bedroom, Master, along with your evening meal.” “We’re eating in the bedroom?” That was unusual, and a smile tugged at Enitan’s mouth as he wondered what special occasion might have prompted the change in routine. “Indeed. Though I doubt it would be polite to have dinner smelling of horse and dust, sir.” “Of course,” Enitan yielded, his tone on the border of patronizing. Demic huffed and led the way to the bath, Enitan following behind with a smirk on his face. He did love teasing Demic; the man’s reactions made it great entertainment. Enitan was distracted all through his bath, the warm scented water that normally tempted him to linger barely registering with his senses. Afterward, he dressed with haste, the linen tunic and trousers clinging to his still damp skin. His heart pounded in his throat with anticipation, but even so, he was utterly unprepared for the sight when he entered the bedroom he shared with Arieh. The young man was lounged on a soft cushion, a veritable feast spread out before him. The aromas of the food were tantalizing, but Enitan’s attention was fixed on Arieh. Arieh was wearing a white linen tunic that set off his coloring and the bronze and copper bracelet on his wrist was polished to shining. His hair and skin gleamed with subtle oils, and his eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched Enitan from beneath his lashes.

EVERY GOOD THING 201 “Welcome home,” Arieh said, his voice a happy purr as he stood and crossed the room, slipping his arms around Enitan with bold familiarity. This close, Enitan could smell the nard that must be in the oil coating his skin. It was the scent Junia had bathed him in the day Enitan had bought him, and Enitan felt himself beginning to harden at the contrast of that frightened, reluctant boy with the young man now giving him hungry looks. “Hello,” he heard himself say, his voice rough and unfamiliar. “This is a warm welcome.” Arieh gave him a smug, mysterious smile and a light, lingering kiss before stepping back. “Just wait ‘til you taste what we’re having for dinner,” Arieh laughed. “Kallias let me help cook it.” “You cooked this?” Enitan asked, amazement coloring his tone. He was suddenly looking forward to the food even more than he had been. The thought that he’d be eating something Arieh had cooked with his own hands… “Well, mostly I spilled things while Kallias cooked,” Arieh admitted with a sly smile. “There’s a tunic being washed right now that’s soaked through with berry juice. It will probably be stained forever.” Enitan looked at the dishes on the floor, searching for the one with berries. His mind immediately jumped to smearing the juice over Arieh’s lips and licking it off. The red-purple color it would give to his lips, the added gleam… Enitan’s mouth watered. It would taste delicious, too, all tart sweetness and Arieh. Dinner was going to be difficult to get through if he kept thinking like that, he told himself. Controlling himself with effort, he settled onto the cushion clearly meant for him. He hoped Arieh would sit close to him, but instead the young man chose a pillow a body length away. It would take effort to reach across that space. Obviously, Arieh was serious about having this dinner. After they were both comfortable, Arieh rang a small bell Enitan had not previously seen.

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It was apparently a summoning bell, for Demic entered the room carrying a tray with two cups. Enitan recognized them as the ones that had belonged to his mother, the ones he used for special occasions. The ones that had been used for their akienda, in fact. Demic set one cup down in front of Arieh and the other one in front of Enitan. “Is there anything else?” he asked, his voice neutral. “No, thank you,” Arieh answered with a dismissive smile, his eyes barely flickering to Demic before they turned back to Enitan as if they were drawn there. It made Enitan smile but Demic seemed to tense for a moment before he bowed and left. Enitan held up his cup in a toast and Arieh clumsily returned the gesture, a drop of wine dribbling over the rim and onto his fingers. Enitan’s mouth went dry with the desire to lick that wine off Arieh’s skin, but he took a sip of his own instead. Arieh drank very briefly, then set his cup down. The food in the bowls in front of them was made to be eaten with the fingers instead of dished onto a plate, and the sensual nature of the meal made Enitan hunger for more than food. Halfway through, he gave in to his impulses and fed Arieh a bite of spiced meat and rice together, scooping the food carefully into Arieh’s mouth with his fingertips. He bit back a groan when Arieh closed his mouth around Enitan’s fingers, tongue flickering over the skin to clean it thoroughly. Arieh grinned wickedly at him as if he knew exactly what he was doing, and by this time, Enitan thought he just might. It still surprised him, however, when Arieh reached over some minutes later with a bite of honeycake soaked in the berries Enitan had seen earlier. The red juice stained Arieh’s fingertips, dribbling down his hand to his wrist, and Enitan followed the trail with his tongue, lapping from Arieh’s arm up to his fingers before taking the dessert in his mouth. Arieh shivered and Enitan lingered a moment, sucking the fingertips he held captive, savoring the taste of Arieh beneath the sweetness of the cake and berries.

EVERY GOOD THING 203 “You’ve barely had any of your wine,” Enitan said a moment later, nodding toward the cup at Arieh’s knee. Since the toast, he hadn’t drunk more than a bare sip. “Wine has a way of making me forget things,” Arieh said, blushing a little. “And I wanted to remember this.” Enitan’s heart quickened its beating so abruptly it felt as if it would leap from his chest. “What, exactly, are we remembering?” he heard himself ask quietly, his attention focused on the shape of Arieh’s mouth, the slight stain of berry juice clinging to his lips. “Half a year ago today, you celebrated me with a feast,” Arieh said, his voice shaking just a little. “I was frightened and unsure, and the next day I was winesick.” Enitan remembered all that very vividly; the surprise of Arieh’s drunken kiss, the warm, lithe press of his body. “Today, I wanted to celebrate you.” “Me?” It wasn’t the question Enitan wanted to ask, but he heard himself blurt it. Arieh smiled and nodded. “You’ve given me so much,” he said. “I wanted you to know how grateful I am—for all of it.” The color in Arieh’s face was heightened now, embarrassment soaking through him, and he hid his face briefly as he took a swallow from his wine. As soon as he’d set it down, Enitan reached for him, pulling him carelessly over mostly empty food dishes and knocking Arieh’s cup over, sending wine spilling over the floor. He covered Arieh’s mouth with his own, tasting the lingering flavors of wine and berries and a few of the more savory spices they’d shared. Arieh’s lips parted easily, inviting Enitan to deepen the kiss. Enitan stood, pulling Arieh with him and trying not to end the kiss as they maneuvered backward toward the bed, Enitan’s hands skimming Arieh’s sides through the thin, comfortable tunic he wore. Arieh shivered and Enitan nipped at his lower lip, feeling himself harden. He wanted his pais and he wanted him now. Just when Enitan’s hand slipped under Arieh’s tunic to find warm skin, Arieh wrenched away from him with a groan.

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Thinking his lover was just catching his breath, Enitan followed, lips pressing against the corner of Arieh’s mouth. “No,” Arieh said, and after the confusion and crashing disappointment, Enitan noticed his voice sounded strange. Arieh covered his mouth with his hand and Enitan clutched at him more tightly. “No?” He peered at Arieh’s face, noticing his skin had gone ashy. “Arieh, are you all right?” Arieh shook his head briefly, his body trembling. Before Enitan could ask any more questions, Arieh was suddenly, violently sick. Enitan held him, alarmed at the strength of the spasms ripping through that slender frame. Enitan could feel a pounding headache building behind his eyes and a cold, clammy sweat broke out over his own skin. He called for Junia, hearing how his voice cracked and rasped. He couldn’t get enough breath to really bellow, and he hoped she heard him. He called again just as Arieh sagged against him, the smell of sickness permeating the room and making Enitan’s own stomach clench uncomfortably. “Junia!” She appeared in the doorway, her eyes taking in the scene in a matter of moments, alarm written over her face. “Master?” “Send for a doctor,” Enitan croaked as he managed to lay Arieh down on their bed. The headache was getting worse, making his vision fuzzy, and all he wanted was to sleep for a moment. Or a year. He heard her yelling from the doorway as if it were all the way across the city, not just the other side of the room, and then her voice was tinged with concern as she called to him. “Sir! Sir?” He tried to pull himself onto the bed beside Arieh, tried to tell her that he was all right, but he slid to the floor instead, his voice coming out in an unintelligible slur. “Enitan!”

EVERY GOOD THING 205 He saw her face, wavy and pale, and tried to smile. It didn’t feel right, like his face was stuck. “Arieh,” he whispered, trying to reach out for his pais. His hand barely lifted from the floor before it fell with a thump. “I’ve got you,” she said urgently. “I’ve got both of you.” He heard the sound of retching again and Junia disappeared. He closed his eyes, letting the bed support him as the world spun and his mouth went dry. He heard Junia’s voice echoing from the bottom of a well and smiled, just briefly. She sounded like Claudia.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE “Kayin Ulfram.” A stern voice behind him made Kayin turn, startled. The kentari walking toward him was a woman he’d only met once before, Kentari Tion. She was tall and broad shouldered, with muscled arms that would make most men think twice about being on her bad side. Her face wasn’t especially pretty, but Kayin had always thought she had a certain kind of magnetism. Not that he’d ever tell her that. “Kentari Tion. I am at your service.” He lifted his sword hand in a salute. “What can I do for you?” Tion returned the salute, then dropped her hands to her sides. “You were formerly Second to Kentari Enitan Viden, were you not?” “Yes, I was, before he got his promotion to tax collections.” The twist of Tion’s lips said she knew exactly how much of a step up Enitan considered his new position. “Yes, well. As his former Second, you are charged with delivering this new assignment to him.” She held out an official looking scroll, stamped with the sigil of Jun, the mark of the head of the army. Kayin took it, startled. He wanted badly to ask what it was but he knew better. His curiosity made him squirm, until she handed him another scroll. “This is your new assignment, Ulfram. See that you report for duty as soon as you have accomplished your task of delivering the summons to Viden.” “Thank you, Kentari.” They saluted each other smartly, and Tion left, the metal accents on her armor glinting in the sun. When he was sure he was dismissed, he opened his scroll, eager to see what it contained. Soldier Kayin Ulfram, it read. You are hereby reassigned to Kentari Enitan Viden as second in command, and charged with assisting him in

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arresting and bringing to justice one Ashar Int’ea of the Riinean enclave. This man is accused of possessing illegal magical items, as defined under the Keshe-Riinea Treaty of 734. Kayin stood still for a moment, shocked, as he tried to make sense of it. He wondered who else of their old detail would be assigned to this task, but more than that he wondered how Viden, who was smitten with his Riinean pais, would react to this summons. Would the relief of getting away from tax detail be enough to do something that could possibly alienate the man he loved so much? If he refused, would he stop the rest of his men from fulfilling their assignment, which was intertwined with his own? It was a lot to think about. Kayin rolled the scroll back up, tucking it into his belt along with the summons for Viden. He wasn’t yet released from today’s post-collection market with his tax collecting group, but once he was, he would take this summons straight to Viden’s house. He wanted to see for himself how his former commander would react. He wondered if Junia would have anything to say about it, then told himself he was being foolish. He liked his wife Sobhi, he really did; it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t help noticing all these strong women. It also wasn’t something he needed to think about right now. He consciously tried to put it all out of his mind and focus on the dividing of the spoils that was going on just a small distance away from him. He wondered how many soldiers actually did enjoy the tax detail over any of the other assignments they might get, and decided he would rather be traveling again, seeing the wonders of the world. He remembered what the summons said about the Riinean magician being accused of using forbidden magic and felt a secret thrill. He hoped they would get to see some of that in action when they went after him. It had been a long time since Kayin had seen anything that had awed and amazed him, and he missed that part of being a soldier pushing the front lines of the war. He supposed the fact that he was no longer obliged to destroy those wonderful things might make up for it, then

EVERY GOOD THING 209 uneasily wondered exactly what would happen to Int’ea if they arrested him and took him in for questioning. Deciding it was none of his business, he rocked back on his heels and tried again to focus on his present assignment. He knew not thinking about the new order was most likely a lost cause, but he was going to try his best anyway. The afternoon couldn’t be over quickly enough.

[\ Demic’s world hadn’t been right since he had brought the wine in to the master and his pais. Some of the Riinean’s wine, salted liberally with essence of kal, had dribbled onto his hand. He’d wiped it off as quickly as he could, but his heart had been beating erratically ever since. He felt lightheaded and dizzy and scared to death. He’d fled the house as soon as he’d given it to them and now fear stalked him. If a mere splash of the poisoned wine was enough to have this effect on him, what if some of it spilled on Enitan? What if Enitan drank from Arieh’s cup instead of his own? What if I’ve killed my master? Fear wrapped around him, a pulsing, hot-breathing monster made of darkness. He ran from it, walking quickly through the streets, turning down alleyways at random, trying to escape the panic chasing him down. When he finally paused for breath, he found himself standing on Temple Street, with Jun just a short distance behind him. Ahead of him, the Temple of Ashkal loomed, dark and foreboding, with an aura of silence that seemed to reach out and beckon for him. With sudden clarity he realized that the monster he was fleeing lived there, that it had been chasing him toward its home, toward its den. Its fangs and talons were going to devour him, one bite at a time, or maybe all in one gulp. Who knew how Ashkal ate his victims? A white masked dedicant stood at the archway of the temple and rang the bell to signal the falling of night. Ashkal was the god of the night—the god of eternal sleep. As Demic watched, frozen, a withered old lady made her slow way up the steps to the monk. The monk nodded to her and she smiled at him,

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weariness written over her face. She had come to Ashkal to lie down and sleep... and to never wake. Demic trembled, shaking as if he were a small tree in a high wind. This was where Keshens came to die if they outlived Jun’s battlefields. This was where his master would have come to die if Demic hadn’t poisoned him. He knew, he could feel that something had gone wrong. He already knew himself to be a murderer. He wondered, just for a moment, who Riineans went to when they were ready to die. Did they find comfort in the arms of their god? Demic didn’t think he would ever find comfort in the arms of Ashkal. He would join the army, fight for Jun, and die there. But would Ashkal come to claim him from her battlefields? He shivered. He would do anything it took to stay alive. He looked past the Temple, past the houses he’d visited with Zakai, down past the gutter dwellers to the docks, to the sea. He was struck by an idea that would not let him go. He could board a ship, leave, go—where? Somewhere. Anywhere else. He could leave Keshe. He would never have to see his master’s face in pale death, never have to see the handiwork of what he’d done. He took off running toward the dock, his heart beating high in his throat, his lungs burning. He found the shipmaster and waited behind two others who were buying passage to Ekias. That wasn’t far enough away—he would buy passage to Mora, the land of the barbarians. Before he could approach the shipmaster, he felt a hand come down heavy on his shoulder. “Where are your papers?” a man growled. “Papers?” Demic didn’t know anything about papers. “Slaves are not permitted to sail without voyage papers from their master. Where are your papers?” The soldier glared at him impatiently. Demic felt his heart drop. He still wore a tunic with the insignia of Enitan’s house, not to mention the thin band of iron around his ankle that marked him as a household slave. He’d worn it so long he’d forgotten it, as if it were jewelry or a part of his body. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have anything

EVERY GOOD THING 211 to say. There was no way he was getting out of this. Eren, goddess of justice, had seen him pass her temple and weighed him on her scales. She’d seen the death of his master and his master’s lover like blood on his hands. He felt sure Ashkal would have him after all.

[\ Junia felt as helpless as she ever had in her life. Sariyah’s question about how she would feel if Dega was plunged into the war that defined the expanding borders of Keshe came back to her, and she had her answer. She imagined it would feel something like this. Arieh and Enitan were both ill. The doctor expected Enitan to recover quickly, being more muscular than Arieh and not exhibiting the severity of symptoms that Arieh was suffering. Enitan was feverish and restless and had been sleeping since he collapsed against the bed several hours before. Arieh, on the other hand, was barely breathing and the doctor didn’t think he stood much of a chance of surviving. Demic was nowhere to be found and Junia was having unfriendly thoughts in his direction. The doctors suspected poison and he was Junia’s prime suspect. He had been acting strangely for weeks—months, really—and he was the one who had taken the couple their wine. His absence only served to emphasize the possibility of his guilt. She didn’t have time to go searching for him, however. She had her hands full just nursing her master and his lover, both of whom were a danger to themselves. Enitan was prone to sudden flailing. Arieh had stopped being sick after it was obvious he had nothing more in his stomach, but his breathing was low and raspy and every now and then bile or blood would bubble at the corners of his mouth and she had to make sure he didn’t choke on it. A soft gasp at the doorway caught Junia’s attention and she turned to see Sariyah standing there, one hand over her mouth in shock. The light from the lamp on the bedside table made shadows flicker across her face, lending her an unearthly appearance, like an angel of death.

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“What happened?” “They were poisoned,” Junia said bitterly. She left Demic’s name out since she didn’t have any solid proof yet. Sariyah stood there looking shocked and silently horrified, and Junia quietly prompted her. “Did you have news to deliver?” The question seemed to pull Sariyah back to herself and she nodded. “I overheard from a soldier on Temple Street that orders have been given to arrest the Riinean magician, and that your master is going to be the one to do it.” Junia’s eyes darted to Enitan, lying pale and twitching on the mattress beside his alarmingly paralyzed lover. “I doubt that will be happening anytime soon,” she said. She didn’t know how she felt about any of this—did Enitan know he would be asked to arrest the magician? Had he kept it from her? It wasn’t as if she had a right to know, after all. She had expected more than she really should have. For all their jokes, she wasn’t really his wife. There was a commotion at the front door, a heavy knocking that had Junia on her feet in an instant. “It’s probably the soldiers,” Sariyah said. Junia nodded. “Stay here with them, please,” she said, handing a wet cloth to the other woman. “Make sure Arieh isn’t choking, and bathe them as best you can. They have fevers.” Leaving Sariyah with the two of them, Junia all but ran to the door. A heavy fist pounded again just before she opened it. When her eyes fell on Demic, looking filthy and wild-eyed between two Keshen soldiers, she took an involuntary step backwards. “Does this slave belong to this household?” one of the soldiers asked flatly. Junia swallowed, thinking fast. “He does,” she answered. “But he is suspected of poisoning the master of the house and the master’s pais.” Demic went pale but didn’t protest, and Junia had the answer to her question. The other soldier gave her a sharp look. “Are they dead?”

EVERY GOOD THING 213 “Not yet.” Demic’s shoulders sagged, whether with relief or resignation she didn’t know but she burned hotly with the desire to destroy him. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him that if Enitan and Arieh died, she would run him through with a longspear. Or maybe she could douse him with the flames from one of the lanterns on the porch and let him burn to death. She made herself focus on the soldiers. “But they are standing at the door of Ashkal’s house.” Demic shuddered and Junia clenched her teeth against the murderous feelings that shot through her. “Very well. He will be kept in custody at the prison until we know whether he is to be executed for murder.” “Please do.” The soldiers turned, pushing Demic ahead of them so hard that he stumbled on the path. She felt a cold satisfaction in their rough treatment of him and closed the door, her mind already focused on getting back to Enitan and Arieh. When she was halfway down the hallway, there was another knock at the door and she paused. Going back, she opened the door to find yet another soldier on the doorstep. This one, however, she recognized. “Kayin Ulfram.” She tried to keep the displeasure out of her voice, but at least his tongue wasn’t hanging out of his mouth yet. She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest to hide herself, even though she was fully clothed. “How can I help you?” “I have orders for your master,” Kayin said with a half bow. “May I see him?” “It is late.” “Not too late for this; he will want to hear this assignment, and I have been ordered to notify him immediately.” Junia sighed. She knew which assignment he meant, thanks to Sariyah. “My master will be making no arrests anytime soon, soldier. He is ill and confined to his bed.” “How did you—”

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“Soldiers gossip,” she interrupted, getting ready to close the door. “Wait, did you say he’s sick? I saw him only yesterday—he seemed very well then.” Junia scowled at him. She wasn’t about to tell him that Enitan had been poisoned, and Arieh with him. Soldiers did gossip, and she didn’t want the news all over town just yet. Then she remembered the two who had arrested Demic and sighed to herself. It was a wonder they hadn’t told Kayin on his way to the house. “He was poisoned by a man who is no longer a slave in this house,” she said. “Let me have the summons and I will give it to him when he recovers.” Kayin looked stunned, but shook his head. “I’m afraid I have to deliver it to him myself.” “You’ll have to deliver it to his bedside,” she said flatly, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. She closed the door behind him and latched it, then led the way to Enitan’s bedroom. Sariyah looked up when they entered but didn’t move, just kept mopping Arieh’s face with the wet cloth. “His pais, too?” Kayin asked, sounding shocked. “That’s—I hope the man who did this is brought to justice.” Junia looked at him in surprise, then remembered that Kayin had been at the feast. He would remember, of course. She gestured to the small table by the bed where the water basin and extra cloths were resting, and Kayin took a scroll from his belt, placing it beside the basin. “I will go to the Healer’s Temple and make an offering for him,” Kayin said solemnly. “For both of them.” With that, he saluted the prone man on the bed and left the room. Sariyah and Junia exchanged looks, then Junia reached for the cloth. “Thank you, Sariyah. I can do that.” “Let me,” Sariyah protested. “Is there anything else you need to take care of? If there is, you can do that. If not, you need to rest. I can see the stress in your face. They will be safe with me, and I do not mind.”

EVERY GOOD THING 215 Junia watched Sariyah for a moment before she finally nodded. She did trust the dancer, and there were things she needed to take care of. She needed to see if Kallias had the ingredients for the medicine the doctors had prescribed. “If anything happens, come get me,” she said. “I will be in the kitchen, and if I leave there I will tell the cook where I am going.” Sariyah nodded and Junia moved off to the kitchen, her throat feeling tight. She would cry if she didn’t have to be in control, but as long as they were both still alive she was going to do what she could. Kallias mirrored her expression when he greeted her, and together they began putting together the herbs for Enitan. There wasn’t anything they could do for Arieh, as he wasn’t capable of swallowing. The little bit of water they’d tried to give him had nearly choked him and they weren’t willing to risk that again. The cook was supposed to have gone home already, as the night was deepening, but he had heard Enitan’s shout of alarm earlier and hadn’t been able to make himself leave. They had almost finished when Sariyah came flying into the kitchen, hair in disarray and panting for breath. “Junia—your master, he’s—” Junia dropped the herbs she held on the counter and was already at the door by the time Sariyah caught her breath enough to finish her sentence. “He’s awake.” Junia didn’t even pause, just ran faster to the bedroom. She was almost there when she saw a flicker of movement by the door that led to the gardens and faltered. The door was closing behind someone, but it couldn’t possibly be Enitan, could it? There was no way he would be feeling well enough to be up and about so quickly. She continued on to the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway when it was obvious that the bed beside Arieh was empty. The scroll was missing from the bedside table, as well. She almost left again, but noticed a fleck of red beside Arieh’s mouth and went to him.

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Blood at the corner of his mouth bubbled weakly with each breath, but she was worried to see that his breaths were slower, coming further apart, and still shallow. He was hardly breathing at all. His skin was cool and clammy rather than burning with fever, and there was a wheeze every time he exhaled, a slight rattle. Her hands trembled as she patted his skin with a dry cloth, cleaning the blood away from his mouth and checking inside to be sure there wasn’t enough to choke him. Sariyah’s hand landed soft and warm on her back and rubbed soothingly. “Leave him to me,” she said quietly. “You go find your master.” Junia nodded, feeling numb, and handed Sariyah the cloth. She went into the gardens, certain now that it had been Enitan she’d seen go out that door. She found him sitting wearily on a bench halfway to the walled garden that had once been Claudia’s and now belonged to Arieh. It was the same bench they’d sat together on the night she had tried to escape his house, all those years ago. He looked pale and weak in the moonlight, a fine tremor evident in his hands where he held the scroll Kayin had brought. She approached slowly, sinking down onto the bench beside him. “Junia.” He coughed slightly, his breath sounding weak when he inhaled. “You shouldn’t be up,” she scolded him. “You’re not well.” “What happened?” She looked down at her hands briefly, fidgeting. Anger welled up in her again, along with the desire to protect Enitan. Demic had been his slave since before Junia had arrived and this sort of betrayal would not be well received. “You were poisoned. It was Demic.” “You’re sure of this?” She couldn’t decipher his tone, but nodded. “Two soldiers brought him to the door just a little bit ago. They caught him trying to sneak out on a ship. He all but admitted to having poisoned you.” Her fingers flexed, wanting to inflict damage

EVERY GOOD THING 217 on the cowardly man. “They have him in prison now until we know... until we know more.” She had been about to say “until we know if Arieh is going to live,” but thought better of it. Enitan’s eyebrows drew down and his jaw tightened. It was the only outward sign of his anger, and he was too exhausted to hold that expression for more than a moment. “Arieh was barely breathing when I woke up,” Enitan said quietly. “There was blood on his mouth.” Junia shuddered, but nodded. “How—what do...” He paused, cleared his throat. “What did the doctors say?” She really didn’t want to have to tell him this, but there was no point in lying. “They said they don’t think he has much of a chance. It’s a miracle he’s still here.” Enitan’s eyes were so pained Junia could almost feel the sensation walking over her own skin; the helplessness, the rage, the throbbing fear of losing the man he loved so much. “Thank you, Junia,” he said quietly. He placed his hand over hers. “I’d like to stay here for a while. Tell me if he—if anything changes.” “Of course.” She squeezed his fingers with her own before she stood and went back inside, heaviness tugging at her. It had been several hours now since Arieh had collapsed. She remembered what Sariyah had said about resting, but she couldn’t stay away from the bedroom. Arieh was like a brother to her, almost a son, and she ached for him and for Enitan who could do nothing but watch helplessly as that which he loved most was slowly dying. She found Sariyah by the bedside, still touching the boy, speaking to him in a low voice. “I don’t know if he can hear me,” she said, “But I wanted him to know someone was here.” “Thank you,” Junia said, resting her hand on Sariyah’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Enitan could barely sit upright, but he was more concerned with the way his vision kept blurring. He wasn’t crying—he wouldn’t, not until there wasn’t any hope left at all—but he was exhausted and worried. He felt something slip out of his hand and clatter to the stone walkway and looked down. He’d forgotten about the scroll he was holding and it didn’t concern him now. Even if he could walk more than a few steps at a time, arresting some dog-and-pony show in the Riinean enclave was the least of his concerns. He heard a noise near the door of the house and turned his head to look. One of the kitchen slaves was chasing after a young girl with dark curly hair. The little girl was giggling and shrieking loudly. For a moment, Enitan wondered who she was; none of his slaves had young children that he could remember. Then he thought of the dancer who was spying for him. She had been there when he woke up, hadn’t she? That was her daughter, then. The one the Riinean magician had healed of lameness. As if a candle was suddenly lit in his mind, a spark of hope burst into flame. He reached down to pick up the dropped scroll, ignoring the dizziness and the trembling, and then began walking with determination toward the stables. He was out of breath before he was halfway there and he had to pause to rest more than once, but when he got to the stables he drew himself up to his full height. “Boy,” he called out, alarmed when what had been supposed to be a ringing command barely made it past his lips. Pol appeared at the door of one of the empty stalls, straw clinging to him, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Saddle the gelding.” He looked down at himself, at his linen tunic and trousers that he’d put on for dinner with Arieh, and cringed. “And fetch my armor.”

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How he was ever going to get into the leather and metal didn’t concern him. He would make Pol help him if he needed to. When he was confident that the stable boy was doing as instructed, Enitan leaned against the wall, letting it support him. The gelding bobbed his head over the rope that held him in his stall, whickering at him. “Just one more ride tonight,” Enitan told the horse weakly. “Just one more thing to do.” There was no better time for a surprise arrest than the middle of the night. The magician might be an escape artist, but Enitan was going to find him at all costs.

[\ Suqua Ar’ea woke to the sound of shouting, shadows and the reflection of flames leaping on the far wall. There were people’s voices, raised in fear and outrage, and the sound of horse’s hooves. Elpis twitched nervously as he sat up, her claws digging into his arm. He winced and extracted himself carefully, placing the sleeping dragon on his bedroll. Ashar’s bed, next to his, was empty and as Suqua rolled up to his knees, he looked around the small room they’d rented from the inn. He spotted the magician standing near the window, staring out into the night. “Master...” Ashar turned, the hard, serious lines on his face melting into a fond expression when he caught sight of Suqua. “Why are you awake, apprentice? Go back to sleep.” Ignoring both the question and the command, Suqua asked, “What’s happening?” “There are Keshen soldiers in the enclave,” Ashar answered, turning back to the window. “They’ve come to arrest me.” Ashar sighed and shrugged a coat over his tunic, belting it around his waist. “Stay here, Suqua. I’m going out to meet them.” Before Suqua could argue, Ashar gave him a sharp look. “We talked about this already. Stay here.”

EVERY GOOD THING 221 Biting his tongue, Suqua sullenly rocked back on his heels. Once Ashar had gone outside, Suqua went to the window, watching the torch lights dance up and down the streets. The cadre of soldiers was approaching on horseback—there were five of them, riding in a V with a kentari at the head, leading them. Men of the enclave were gathering around them, the tools of their trades in their hands. The blacksmith was there with hammer and tongs, a farmer with a sickle, a woodcutter with his axe. There were angry murmurs in the crowd and Suqua wondered if they were there to help the soldiers or kill them. When Ashar hailed them loudly, Suqua sneaked over to the doorway, watching as the mounted soldiers came closer. “What have you to say?” a soldier to the right of the kentari demanded. “You are seeking Ashar Int’ea,” Ashar said calmly. “I am he.” Suspicion flashed across their faces and the soldier who had spoken first scowled. “Int’ea has eluded Keshen soldiers for more than a month,” he said. “Why should I believe that he is surrendering himself now?” “You are disturbing my people,” Ashar answered. “I can not allow them to suffer for me. What business do you have with me?” The kentari gathered his horse’s reins in one hand and swung down to the ground. He paused for a moment, holding onto the horse’s saddle, and Suqua darted out of the house, standing in front of Ashar before he could consider his actions. “Suqua!” Ashar’s voice was sharp as he grabbed Suqua’s shoulder and shoved him back. “Stay back!” The kentari turned to face them, the flickering torch light reflecting off his metal chestplate and making his face look haggard. “Ashar Int’ea,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “I have been given orders to arrest you.” The kentari took two steps toward Ashar and stopped, then slowly knelt on the ground. Suqua thought it almost looked as

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though he collapsed the last few inches. Ashar didn’t react, but Suqua felt shock and uneasiness running through his veins. What new trick was this? “I have a favor to ask of you.” The kentari’s voice broke. “My pais is at home, sick and dying. I have heard you are a healer.” “I am,” Ashar said. “I will come to your house at once to heal him.” “No!” The kentari frowned. “You must not be seen at my house or you will certainly be arrested. I understand the power you have—I have seen a girl who was lame walk again, and you never even saw her but only spoke to her mother. Please— speak to me as you did to the E’ean woman.” Suqua felt confusion lancing through him. What was this? Had the man not come to arrest Ashar? And what was this about not allowing him to go to his house—was the kentari really going to let Ashar go without arresting him? “It is done,” Ashar said. “Your pais is healed.” “Thank you.” The kentari dipped his head in respect. “I never saw you.” The kentari got to his feet, using the end of his stiivi to push himself upward. He appeared ill himself, and weak. He turned to his soldiers. “We ride home,” he told them. The soldier who had first spoken to them lifted his torch high. “This man is not Ashar Int’ea. We will search for him again in daylight, when nothing can hide from the eyes of the servants of Jun.” As the kentari remounted his horse, he stared down at them both. “If my pais is dead when I return home, Ashar Int’ea, I will hunt you down.” Ashar held up his hand. “Take my apprentice with you as insurance,” he said. “I will not abandon him. If your pais is dead, come to look for me. He will validate your story. Only do not harm him.” He pushed Suqua forward as he said this, and Suqua felt chills go through him.

EVERY GOOD THING 223 The kentari nodded. “Kayin, take the apprentice on your horse with you.” The soldier who had spoken to them first walked his horse forward and reached down. Stunned, Suqua allowed himself to be pulled up behind the soldier, riding uncomfortably over the horse’s hindquarters and uneasy with holding on to the soldier. “Don’t fall off,” Kayin said. “Here we go.” The journey to the kentari’s house went more slowly than Suqua had expected. He had imagined they would gallop all the way there, the kentari certainly anxious to get home to his pais. What was a pais, anyway? He was sure he’d heard the term, but only in hushed conversation. It wasn’t generally considered an appropriate topic of conversation, especially not in the temple. He wasn’t brave enough to ask any of these Keshen soldiers either. And on that subject, what on earth had Ashar been thinking to just volunteer him like that? While Suqua was brooding over all this, the soldier he was riding with nudged his horse up next to the kentari. “Sir,” the soldier said. “How is your strength?” “I’m fine, Kayin,” the kentari answered shortly. “Be sure that the others are with us.” Suqua realized that if the other soldiers were not loyal to their kentari, the man’s life could be in danger. Was his pais so important? His mind, finally shaking free of the sluggishness of sleep, remembered the sight of the armored man kneeling in the dust before Ashar, pleading for his pais’s life. That a Keshen, a kentari, would humble himself before a Riinean, in full sight of his cadre and of the enclave... it boggled Suqua’s mind. He hadn’t known the Keshens had it in them to be so humble. They rode steadily on, the pace never picking up beyond a quick walk. The night had slipped into that flat darkness it gets just before dawn when they reached the edge of the enclave. Still the horses plodded steadily on. Some of the soldiers in the back were beginning to murmur, discontent and restless. They hadn’t made an arrest and they all wanted to get back to their homes and families. Finally, the kentari pulled them all up short

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in front of a building marked with a crest that was echoed on their armor. Suqua assumed it belonged to the military. “Good work, men,” the kentari called out. “You are released to your homes. We will resume our search after the furor has had time to die down.” Kayin stayed mounted, as did the kentari, both of them waiting until the rest of the cadre had disbursed. “Kayin, you may be dismissed as well. Take the boy back to his master.” “No, sir.” Kayin’s horse danced in place and he soothed it with a hand to its neck. “The apprentice and I will come with you. If Arieh is well, I will take the boy back.” The kentari looked as if he might argue, but sighed and turned his horse without another word, heading off again up the streets. Suqua drifted off to sleep, his head nodding forward with the motion of the horse’s walk. When he bumped against Kayin’s back, he jerked awake, startled. He tried to stifle a yawn, but it overtook him and he heard his jaw pop. Kayin chuckled. “Long night for all of us,” he agreed. “A very long night,” the kentari said distantly and a weight of solemnity settled over Suqua. Arieh—was that what Kayin had said? Wasn’t that a Riinean name? Again, Suqua wondered just what this person was to the kentari to warrant such risk and devotion. He wracked his mind for what he’d overheard from the merchants and the underpriests, who tended to gossip together. He thought he might remember it having something to do with a peculiar problem—a lust of the flesh, much like the disease he himself suffered. Had Ashar healed someone of those urges, those dreams that stole into Suqua’s own mind at night? Was that why he had wanted Suqua to go along, to see that he could be healed of these things if he’d only ask? But did that mean that Ashar knew his secret shame? Suqua couldn’t decide whether he wanted that to be true or not. Did

EVERY GOOD THING 225 he want to be healed if it meant knowing Ashar could see his sin? He shuddered and wished their journey would be over.

[\ The sky was beginning to lighten, black to gray as dawn approached. Up ahead, Enitan could see his house. It almost appeared to gleam in the half-light. The gelding flicked its ears forward and nickered happily, trying to pick up the pace. Enitan reined him in, still unsteady in the saddle. Junia had probably been right in trying to send him back to bed; he was weak and exhausted in a way he couldn’t remember being since childhood. He briefly considered dismounting in front of the house to go inside, but the knowledge that the horse should be put in the stable, along with a certain reluctance to see whether his hopes would be answered or crushed, stayed him. What if Arieh was dead and all this was for nothing? He reined the horse toward the stable, letting the steady rhythm of hoofbeats settle into his mind. Pol, sleepy eyed and yawning, took the horses’ reins as first Enitan then Kayin and the magician’s apprentice dismounted. Enitan made it to the doorway of the stable and paused, leaning against the frame as he gathered his strength, both emotional and physical. It had been difficult enough to kneel in front of a man he was supposed to be arresting, fully aware of the presence of a crowd seething with violence. He was weak, barely able to ride his horse, and he knew he was vulnerable in more ways than one. If the magician or one of his followers had been of a mind, they could have taken a swipe at the Keshen empire by killing him. He couldn’t have defended himself. But knowing that the uncertainty would be over in just a few moments—that either his hopes or his fears would be realized—was a thousand times worse than humbling himself before a Riinean fugitive could ever be. “Sir?” Kayin asked gently. “Are you all right?” “I’m—I’m fine,” he said, willing himself to believe it. Whatever the outcome, he wasn’t going to change it by standing in the stables, waiting. “Let’s go.”

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He walked out into the garden first, his eyes instinctively finding the high, white walls that surrounded the smaller, more exotic garden. When he had locked the gate after Claudia’s death, he had never expected to open it again. If Arieh was gone now too, he was going to tear the damn thing apart, stone by stone, and burn it. Trees arched overhead, their branches bare against the sky, and there were others that were still green, spiky leaves rich in their colors. Enitan barely noticed any of it, concentrating on making it just one more step. He paused suddenly, feeling the other two come to an abrupt halt behind him. There were voices coming from the direction of the house, floating through the garden—Junia, speaking stridently, and a lower murmur that couldn’t quite be understood. He thought he recognized the second voice nonetheless. “What on earth are you doing out here? Go back to bed at once.” Enitan’s pulse thudded at the answering mumble. It sounded so much like him, it had to be him. Afraid to hope, he crept forward until he could hear them better, afraid to step around the large bush in front of him to see for sure. “I’ll tell you when he comes home,” Junia was saying. “You shouldn’t be up yet.” “I’m all right. I want to wait here for him.” Enitan could swear he felt his lungs freeze, his heart lodge in his throat. That was him. That was— “Arieh, I don’t know when he’ll be back. You were very ill. You should—” Enitan couldn’t wait a moment longer. Strength suddenly flooded him, a rush of power sending him surging forward. Arieh was sitting on a bench, looking like a ghost of himself, pale and trembling. Junia stood beside him, hands on her hips, face drawn with worry. “Arieh...” It was more of a gasp than his name, but Arieh heard.

EVERY GOOD THING 227 Surprised, Arieh lurched to his feet and stumbled forward, his arms flailing out to catch himself as he lost his balance. His legs gave out and Enitan was there in an instant, holding him close. The solid warmth of his body was sweet and Enitan almost dropped to his knees right there in gratefulness. Arieh sighed his name, sounding blissful and content. He held on to the Enitan, pressing himself in closer. Enitan pressed his face into Arieh’s neck, feeling hot moisture against his skin, feeling the fevered temperature of his breath as it left his mouth. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking. When he breathed in, he tasted salt. “Enitan,” Arieh said, one of his hands curving around the back of Enitan’s neck, the other resting around his waist. The grip was weak but determined. “I was worried,” Arieh murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder. “You were worried?” Enitan barked out a humorless laugh. “You were almost dead.” “I saw you, though,” Arieh argued lazily, still clinging and petting. “I saw you speak to a man. After you left, he told me not to be afraid, and then—then I woke up.” The words barely made sense and Enitan didn’t have time to try to make them. He could feel himself swaying on his feet and wanted to get them both inside. His bed sounded like a good place to go. “You shouldn’t be up,” Enitan said, pressing his lips to Arieh’s forehead. “Junia was right about that. You’ve just been poisoned.” “I know,” Arieh answered, letting Enitan support him. Tremors ran through his frame and Enitan noticed that his legs were shaking. They were both exhausted. “But I was worried. She told me you’d gone to the enclave, and I wanted to be sure you’d come home okay. She said you were sick, too.” “I’m fine,” Enitan said, his throat closing with emotion. Arieh tilted his head up, meeting Enitan’s lips briefly before Enitan started moving back toward the house, supporting Arieh’s weight. He could barely walk himself and worried for a

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moment he wouldn’t be able to support both of them. Then Junia came down to help them, sliding under Arieh’s other arm and taking some of his weight. As they walked into the house, Enitan glanced over his shoulder and gave Kayin a nod of approval. He watched just long enough to see Kayin touch the magician’s young apprentice on the shoulder and guide him back toward the stables. Satisfied that his bargain with the magician was being upheld, he focused all his attention on his living, breathing, beautiful pais.

EPILOGUE Arieh woke slowly, conscious of warmth beneath his cheek, a steady heartbeat, and breath stirring his hair. Both he and Enitan had been too weak to do more than curl up together and sleep, but as he was waking now, he felt Enitan’s arms around him, tight as bands of iron, with all the strength they had been missing. A brief survey of his own body told him he felt better now than he had before. He opened his eyes and saw the room bathed in deep golden sunlight. They’d been sleeping most of the day. He shifted a little, putting his arm in a more comfortable position, and heard Enitan’s breath catch. “Are you awake?” Arieh asked quietly. One of Enitan’s hands left his back to push through Arieh’s hair. Arieh felt the oil in the strands and cringed. He wanted a bath. He had put the scented oil in his hair for their dinner together, but the leisurely bath he thought he’d have with his lover afterward had been postponed. Instead, he’d nearly died. Actually, according to Junia, he’d stopped breathing. “I’m awake.” Enitan’s lips pressed against his head through his oily hair and Arieh almost apologized for the residue the nard must have left on his mouth. “How are you feeling?” “Better. Much better.” “Good.” The arm around Arieh’s waist tightened, and Arieh could almost taste the relief in Enitan’s body. “How are you? Junia said you were poisoned, too.” “Not as badly as you were,” Enitan said. “I’m feeling fine now.” “Mmm.” Arieh snuggled deeper into Enitan’s arms. “I’m glad we’re both still here,” he said. “So am I. I think I could stay here for a few more hours. Days. Just holding you.”

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Arieh wrinkled his nose. “Can we move it to the baths? I’m feeling kind of dirty.” Enitan laughed. “So I’ve spoiled you to bathing as well, have I? All right. That sounds fine to me.” Their bath was long and leisurely. They took turns cleaning each other and Arieh discovered that Enitan’s hands working soap through his hair was a form of ecstasy. Relaxed and happy, grateful to be alive and with each other, they made love on the hard tiles beside the water, using their clothing to cushion Arieh’s head and hips. Enitan was gentle, conscious of how uncomfortable the floor could become, and Arieh writhed in pleasure, water-slick limbs clutching at Enitan’s body, sliding over his wet skin. When the searing pleasure had subsided, leaving them wet and sticky, their discarded clothes soaked through and clinging to Arieh’s skin, Enitan lay on his back and pulled Arieh onto his chest, holding him close. “I was so afraid,” Enitan said quietly. “So afraid I’d never see you again. Never touch you.” “I love you,” Arieh blurted, face heating as he realized belatedly what he’d said. Enitan went perfectly still beneath him, his face an almost comical picture of surprise. Smiling, Arieh brushed his fingers over Enitan’s mouth and said it again, more deliberately. “I love you.” Enitan clutched him close, lips against his temple, his ear, his cheek. “Gods,” Enitan breathed. “I love you.” When the floor finally became too uncomfortable for them, they washed off again in the baths, dressed in clean clothes and headed to the kitchen to see if Kallias might feed them. It turned out that they were hungrier than they had known. Nearly dying was hard work. Kallias insisted on tasting each bit of food before he would allow them to eat it, including the wine. While they were sure Demic was the culprit, they still didn’t know where else he might have hidden the poison.

EVERY GOOD THING 231 It was after their meal that the unpleasant subject had to be breached. Junia was called in to advise them, and Kallias and the other servants told what they knew, which wasn’t much. Since neither Enitan nor Arieh were dead, it was up to them to decide Demic’s punishment. The law supported any sentence they might declare, including execution. Enitan, furious over the betrayal and the near-loss of his pais, favored sentencing him to death. Arieh, listening to the accounts from the others, felt a spike of sympathy. “He was jealous,” Arieh said quietly when it was just the three of them. “He was in love with you.” “Strange way he had of showing his love,” Enitan growled. Junia shook her head. “Arieh’s right, sir. He was in a passion over you. Jealousy makes men do strange things. And I don’t believe he meant to poison you, just Arieh.” Enitan didn’t appear to be moved by this at all, but Arieh touched his arm. “I don’t want him back in this house any more than you do,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t feel safe. But I don’t want him to be killed, either. You and I are both alive, and that’s enough.” “Perhaps he could be exiled,” Junia suggested. Enitan thought for a while, then nodded. “All right. Call for a messenger, Junia. I will send his sentence to the head jailer.” After the message was written and sealed, Enitan and Arieh left the company of their servants for the company of each other. Junia watched them go with a smile. When the messenger arrived, she paid him and handed him the letter, smiling when she saw a beautiful young woman come walking up the pathway behind him. As the messenger dashed off to the jail, Junia greeted Sariyah. “I came to see if your master still has any use for me,” she said quietly. “I did not know if he is still looking for news of the magician.”

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Junia’s eyebrows arched. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said. “I suppose he probably still is, but he’s not in a position to hear news at the moment.” “They’re both feeling better, then?” Sariyah smiled knowingly. “I’m glad.” “So am I. Come in anyway, though, and you can tell the news to me. Would you like tea?” Miles away, the messenger handed a sealed letter to the head jailer. He read the sentence and shook his head. Masters these days were going soft. Any slave of his that attempted to murder his wife would be beheaded, but this one was to be sent off to the temples for the life of a dedicant. The fool probably never had it so easy. He strode down the hall to the cell where the cowering man was being held. He gestured for the guard to unlock the cell and called out to the man. “Get up, you miserable cur. I’ve a letter from your master saying what to do with you.” The man looked up at him with empty, broken eyes. “Am I to be executed?” The jailer shook his head in disgust. “That’s what I’d do,” he said, “But not your master. He says since you’re so fond of doing death’s work you’re to be dedicated to Ashkal at the evening service tonight. Up with you now, let’s go.” The flicker of hope that had lit when the jailer said the man wasn’t going to be killed was drowned in utter despair. The man’s face became completely blank, his hands shaking. “No,” the prisoner whispered. “No!” The jailer smiled grimly as the guard hauled the sniveling man to his feet. Maybe the man’s master had known what he was doing, after all. Meanwhile, the master, sprawled on a stone bench in a walled garden with a beautiful young man straddling his hips, had no thoughts to spare for his erstwhile slave’s fate. He was far too focused on the soft, teasing kisses of his pais and the

EVERY GOOD THING 233 way the small white flowers in the young man’s dark hair looked like stars in an endless night. Arieh bent low over Enitan’s prone form and brushed his lips against Enitan’s cheek, then his ear. Quietly, as gentle as the whispering breeze, he heard Arieh say, “I’m so glad I’m yours.” The feeling, Enitan decided, was completely mutual.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Jules was a late bloomer in the garden of self-discovery but is now making up for lost time. Self-described as a “happy treehugging hippie pagan queer,” Jules has found an affinity for advocating for equal rights in many arenas. A psychology major with a yen for gender and sexuality studies, Jules finds GLBT fiction a natural fit. An individual of many vices-including addictions to video games, gin & tonic, and bad poetry-Jules nonetheless clings to the illusion of questionable virtue. You can find Jules on the internet at: http://mjaedin.livejournal.com http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mjules/

If you’re a GLBT and questioning student heading off to university, should know that there are resources on campus for you. Here’s just a sample: US Local GLBT college campus organizations http://dv-8.com/resources/us/local/campus.html GLBT Scholarship Resources http://tinyurl.com/6fx9v6 Syracuse University http://lgbt.syr.edu/ Texas A&M http://glbt.tamu.edu/ Tulane University http://www.oma.tulane.edu/LGBT/Default.htm University of Alaska http://www.uaf.edu/agla/ University of California, Davis http://lgbtrc.ucdavis.edu/ University of California, San Francisco http://lgbt.ucsf.edu/ University of Colorado http://www.colorado.edu/glbtrc/ University of Florida http://www.dso.ufl.edu/multicultural/lgbt/ University of Hawaiÿi, Mānoa http://manoa.hawaii.edu/lgbt/ University of Utah http://www.sa.utah.edu/lgbt/ University of Virginia http://www.virginia.edu/deanofstudents/lgbt/ Vanderbilt University http://www.vanderbilt.edu/lgbtqi/