Berkant stared. "I'm… going to see His Majesty again?" Why did that make his heart flip in his chest?
"Why wouldn't you?"
"I figured he would assign the problem to someone else to attend."
"His Majesty is involving himself directly in this matter. Behave and be well, Master Berkant." With a ghost of a smile and a slight bow of her head, Bahiyya departed.
What a strange day.
Berkant unlocked the door, slipped inside, and closed and locked it again before setting the key aside on a little table. It was a handsome little room, with a bed, chest, writing chest, and a table intended for meals, work, and whatever else was needed. The bed even had the sheer curtains he'd missed so much since throwing away his old life. The room smelled of incense, and he could also catch the barest hint of fresh, clean water. Going to the far side of the room, he pushed open the sliding door there and took in the large bathing chamber. As Bahiyya had said, it was shared between four rooms. What a luxury. Like everyone else in his building, he shared a single dubious bathhouse on the ground floor, where it was a good day when the water was only murky.
Closing the door, he returned his attention to the room, and found the slip of paper that laid out the general palace schedule, including prayers, meals, and more. What would all this cost him if he were not here at His Majesty's indulgence?
Unwanted thoughts rose up then, of all the ways he would be more than happy to indulge King Shafiq.
Divine, he really was finally losing his mind.
Stripping off his clothes, Berkant set them neatly aside, crawled into the wonderfully soft, warm bed, and went gratefully back to sleep.
*~*~*
Of all the things Berkant had expected of living in the palace, it was not to bebored. Restricted as he was, though, he had very little to do. Meals, exercise, occasionally meeting with Captain Bahiyya to answer questions.
Three days had passed since he'd been given his new room, but he had yet to see Shafiq again, which was more disappointing than Berkant wanted to admit, even to himself. Probably for the best he hadn't seen Shafiq again; gods alone knew what kind of fool he'd make of himself. Shafiq was so far above him he'd have more luck catching a star.
Not that he had any such interest in Shafiq; he just wasn't blind.
Sighing, Berkant rolled to his feet and headed out into the hallway to do his next round of walking. He tried to do a hundred laps each day, along with some other exercises in his room, so he remained fit.
He didn't particularly miss being bodyguard to one slimy weasel or another, but he would like to havesomethingto do. On the other hand, he wasn't in jail waiting to be sentenced to hard labor, so he hardly had anything to complain about. A little boredom was bearable.
Maybe he could ask Captain Bahiyya for some books or something. Surely that would not be too bold a request?
Berkant reached the dead end of the hallway and turned to walk back toward the open end—and stopped short as he saw Captain Bahiyya, as though summoned by mere thought. She was with a woman Berkant didn't recognize, though really the number of people in the palace he did recognize was maybe ten, and all of them were royal guards, minus His Majesty.
"Good afternoon, Captain, my lady," Berkant greeted as they reached him.
"Master Berkant," Bahiyya replied. "We've come to ask a favor—a very grand favor."
What in the world could they possibly need of him? That was a stupid question, though, because the only thing anyone ever needed of him was his martial skills. Why, though? "At the very least, you have my curiosity."
Bahiyya and the other woman shared a look, and then she stepped forward. "My name is Litta, Master Berkant, and I am the royal event coordinator."
"You want me to perform?" Berkant asked. "Why?"
"One of our performance fighters has fallen gravely ill and will not be sufficiently recovered in time to perform in three days. Normally we'd scrap the event and simply replace it with something else; these things do happen. However, three days will be the fifth anniversary of Her Majesty's death, and the banquet we've arranged is a surprise and commemoration for His Majesty, and we very much want everything to go according to plan. Would you be willing to replace the sick fighter? I can introduce you to your sparring partner, and hopefully three days will be sufficient to learn what you need."
"You would of course be paid," Bahiyya added. "This has nothing to do with the deal you struck with His Majesty. I know our request is highly presumptuous, especially since you haveretired from such things. We simply could not think of anyone else to ask so last minute who would have the required skills."
Berkant's stomach roiled at being the center of so much attention again. Where everyone would know him, his name, what had happened to him to drive him away. The whispers. The pitying looks. The rude questions.
He couldn't deny the way his chest lurched, either, however. The way his heart sped up. Not just a chance to see Shafiq again, but an opportunity to show off for him, to put Shafiq's eyes on him, if only for a little while.
Gods above, he was stupid.
"It would give me something to do, at the very least," Berkant finally replied, "and I would like to repay His Majesty for the generosity he has shown me."
"Really?" Litta asked. "Wonderful! Come with me, I'll show you the practice room, get you fitted for the proper clothes, settle your pay…"
