He'd learned Tavamaran in school before venturing off into the world, but hadn't used it much in other places, sohad been practicing it diligently for months leading up to this visit, one he'd anticipated for years. He'd loved every place he'd ever visited, and looked forward to whatever he saw next, but Tavamara… Tavamara would be the crown jewel.
For one, like his homeland, nobody here thought it strange that men wore clothes as beautiful and delicate as what any woman would wear. They wouldn't look askance at a man who excelled at dancing, a skill considered feminine in too many places.
Two, there was so much tolearn. Tavamaran music and dance were unique, with no other comparison in the world, much like their famed market. He'd studied what he could while he traveled, but there was nothing like the source for true learning.
Three, he'd always,alwayswanted to perform for the royal family. His teacher, more like a mother than a mentor by the end, had once performed for the previous king and queen. She'd spoken countless times of how much the performance meant to her, the reception she'd received, the attention and gifts.
Jankin didn't care about gifts. He tended to travel with as little as possible. He did likeattentionthough. He had performed for nobility, royalty, people on the street, prisoners, sailors… He wanted to be one of the greatest dancers in the world, and he wanted to be admired. Simple goals, on paper, but in reality, it took a great deal of work.
And loneliness. The closest he'd ever had to a real relationship was with Ramsay, a Holy Protector of Tritacia. Quite literally ordained by god to take up the role, according to Tritacian beliefs and practice, he had been unable—unwilling, quite fairly—to leave his post. And Jankin had been unwilling to stay in one place. They'd parted as friends, and he did not regrethis decision, but he would always ache for what could have been had their lives not been so disparate.
Finally feeling steadier on his feet, he approached one of the first food stalls he saw, and with very little struggle, managed to order some sort of stew and some lovely pieces of flatbread to go with it. At another stall, he requested something to drink that would go well with his food. That seemed to delight the man, who happily offered him several choices, the tiniest of samples in little paper cups.
Jankin wound up liking two of them so much he bought both, one for his lunch and the other to drink later. Wine, it was always called, but by the smell and taste, it had more in common with straight liquor.
When he had eaten, he finally set about finding a place to stay. He'd get a room for the night, and tomorrow undertake the far more arduous task of lodging he could rent by the week or month.
Thankfully, inns were easy to find, no matter where you went, always marked with clueless travelers in mind. Once in his room, he arranged his meager belongings—one large bag, one smaller bag, and plenty of space for the trunk he'd pick up from the docks in the morning after the ship had been fully unloaded. His prized new wine he set next to the bed to enjoy later, after he'd returned with dinner that evening.
Gathering up his wash things, he went back downstairs and followed the innkeeper's directions to the nearest good public bath, skipping the one she'd advised he avoid.
If there was one thing that didn't change much from country to country, it was bathing. Of all the countries he'd visited, which was most of them, including the many colonies of the Havarin Empire, nearly all had public bathing practices, especially in countries where water was not so plentiful theycould afford for every single citizen to have their own private bathing chamber.
And the broad strokes of public bathing did not change much from place to place. Only the finer details, as what was considered polite or rude could change slightly, but it was one of those places in any country where he did not have to struggle to adapt.
It was also, surprisingly, a good place to meet people. Learn the good places to eat, where to find housing, what and who to avoid… and, ideally, how he could gain access to the palace, which in turn would give him a fighting chance at securing a royal invitation to perform.
This would be so much easier if he had an entire royal family to appeal to, but there was only King Shafiq, who was probably vastly more upset than Jankin could ever be that he had no family. Last he'd heard, which granted was months ago, he didn't have a harem either, which was tantamount to being unworthy of the throne in Tavamaran eyes.
Once he was shaved and clean and his hair combed and braided, he gathered up his things and returned to his room. It was only midafternoon, but he was utterly exhausted. A nap was definitely in order, and then he'd go find dinner and maybe sort out a place where he could dance tomorrow, start to garner the attention he needed to reach the palace.
When he woke, it was dark and considerably cooler. Digging a wrap out of his luggage, he freshened up and headed out, immediately enthralled with nighttime Tavala. Finding food took no time at all, and pleasantly floaty from the wine he enjoyed with it, he ventured off back to the market. He'd heard many a rumor about the night market, and he wanted to see how much of those rumors were true.
As it turned out,mostof the rumors were true. There was no shortage of stalls selling sexual items, from toys tofancy lubricants to the actual services, though his impression from disapproving looks and stray comments was that market prostitution was frowned upon. Decent people went to proper, reputable brothels. Intriguing. He always forgot how strict and fussy other countries could be about such things. Even Tavamara, famed for its royal courtesans and not-so-famed for its historical ties to slavery, could be oddly strict about something as mundane as where people hired prostitutes. Well, maybe there was good reason for it, and he needed to withhold judgement.
Much fun as it would be to buy a new toy or two, that wasn't conducive to traveling light, so he quelled the urge and continued to wander around until he grew thirsty, at which point he was happy to let a wine merchant coax him into his tent to sit and try a flight of 'strong wines'.
Sipping leisurely at the offerings, he listened to the chatter around him.
"—saw them myself!" a man said earnestly, slapping his hand on the table.
"You did not! You went to the palace for a tax issue, why would the royal concubines be anywhere near the tax offices?"
"They were walking down an adjoining hallway! Surrounded by guards, of course, I didn't say I got agoodlook at them, but they were definitely twins! Can youimagine?"
"No, because I don't have a perverted mind like you and our dear king."
"I just can't believe they allowed it—"
"He's the king, nobody allows or disallows him anything."
"The council does! What's the point of them if they let him just trot about with twin brothers as concubines!"
The second man snorted and poured himself more wine. "I think you sound jealous, not scandalized. The nobility are an entity unto themselves, leave them to it."
"I'm just saying—"
"Shut up and drink, and save your fantasizing about twin concubines for when you are home alone in bed."
