"Oh, what have we here? Where did you come by this?" He ran his fingers over it, eyes full of gleaming approval. "I know people who would cheerfully murder to obtain a single length of this fabric, and here you are withtwolengths."
Berkant frowned, annoyed with himself for not having anticipated that question. "It was a gift, after a fashion."
Ashel looked at him with too much knowing, though what he could possibly know, and how he could know it, was impossible to determine. "I see. Yes, it's too beautiful not to use, and goes perfectly with the fabric you already picked out. Making a sash won't take more than a couple of hours. Try on the pants, and I can finish the whole ensemble tonight."
"As it pleases," Berkant replied, and took the carefully pinned pants behind the changing screen. The fabric was softand cool, fluid enough he would be able to move easily in it, yet fitted perfectly to him, even better than those he'd worn as a professional fighter.
Ashel sighed in satisfaction as he stepped out from behind the screen. "Marvelous. You really are made for that color, Master Berkant. With this fabric as your sash, there will be a perfect contrast in patterns. You have a good eye for such things, if you ever wanted a change from fighting." He winked, and then got to work on adjustments, though what adjustments could possibly be needed, Berkant couldn't begin to fathom.
When he was done, Berkant headed for the mats, where Litta and Jorin were conversing quietly. "How did the fitting go?" Litta asked, smiling as he joined them. "The colors certainly suit."
Berkant laughed. "All the years I fought while wearing purple, I clearly should have gone with red."
"Indeed you should have," Litta said with a snicker. "Let's go through the main parts from yesterday, and then we'll add the details today. By tomorrow I think you'll be able to do the whole routine with no problem. Let's begin."
Berkant took his position in the farthest corner, Jorin the nearest. Fighter exhibition matches had more in common with dance routines than duels. They had started centuries ago as a way for soldiers to prove themselves without hurting each other, as the intricacy of the performances displayed skill and aptitude at least as well as an unpredictable fight. They'd moved on from there to being popular in many other places, eventually reaching the royal court as a way for nobles to show off their children, the monarchs their concubines, and so forth. Dancing would always remain the favorite form of entertainment, but exhibition matches were a close second.
As the occasion was an important one, this exhibition was even more intricate than usual. There weren't many people withenough skill and knowledge who could fill in as a last-minute replacement. Even for Berkant, memorizing the whole thing in less than three days was going to be difficult.
Thankfully, a lot of the movements flowed intuitively into one another. There were few dramatic deviations, and those were what they'd worked on first. Now they were just linking those together.
They practiced for hours, stopping only for brief breaks to rest and drink water. By the time Litta called a halt for the day, Berkant was flushed and sweaty, and exhausted enough to sleep the rest of the day, though dinner was a few hours away yet.
"I think this will go beautifully," Litta said. "Well done, both of you. Tomorrow we'll run through the whole performance until you can do it in your sleep. The banquet is the day after, and we'll have a brief practice in the morning as well."
"Of course," Berkant said. "Unless you've further need of me, I'm going to get a bath and food."
They laughed, and Litta dismissed him. A servant handed Berkant a hand towel as he stepped off the mats, and he took it gratefully, wiping away the worst of the sweat as he headed out of the training hall and slowly back to his own room.
Where another gift lay on his bed. Berkant's heart jumped into his throat. The box was rectangular, relatively shallow, and surprisingly heavy as he picked it up. It was wrapped in another strip of fabric, though this was simple black, wickedly soft and faintly shimmery, and tied off with gold silk cord. Something about the fabric…
He nearly dropped the box as he realized what was blatantly obvious. The fabric was harem black. No one else in the entire kingdom wore this particular fabric. Rumor had it the material was kept under lock and key somewhere in the palace.
If that was true…
Berkant dropped down onto the edge of his bed, holding the box in his lap. He pulled away the cord and fabric, revealing a box of dark, reddish-brown wood, plain save for the top, which had a gold inlay of songbirds playing amongst flowers.
He knew the jewelry maker well, or at least the shop, as it was one they'd passed making the rounds delivering smuggled booze. Why in the world would someone be giving him jewelry?
Heart drumming in his ears, drowning out everything else, he flicked the catch and opened the box.
Cuffs. Beautiful gold cuffs, both for his wrists and his upper arms, made to look as though strips of gold had been elaborately braided and wrapped. He'd never seen anything so fine, not this close at least, except perhaps for the rubies that adorned…
Berkant took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
If he'd had any doubts about his gift giver, that mystery was most certainly solved now. The real question was if His Majesty was party to it, or if this was solely the work of Lord Nadir. He had a feeling it was just Nadir. Shafiq seemed… not as mischievously inclined. Or at least his mischief would be more private and contained.
How was Nadir able to leave the packages? Were there servants or guards helping him? Were the rumors of secret passages true? But why would a secret passage lead to the hall that was essentially for special prisoners?
So many questions and not a single answer.
Closing the case, he set it on his table and went to finally get a bath.
*~*~*
Berkant stood dressed and ready for his performance. Well, mostly ready. He stared at the jewel cases he'd broughtwith him, to put on at the last moment, instead of walking around the palace in flash he most definitely should not have.
"More gifts?" Ashel asked in that sly, teasing way of his.
