Maybe he'd be here long enough to learn the answer to that and all the other questions slowly piling up. Wasn't like he was on a schedule, and so far, Tavamara was proving to be a pleasant place to stay. Even before he'd been invited to the palace he'd enjoyed it.
The poet had a strong, clear, pretty voice, reciting a poem that was a bit difficult for Jankin to follow but seemed to be about a clever smuggler and a noblewoman he accidentallykidnapped. Thankfully, the poem wasn't overly long and ended happily.
After that was a quartet who sang another ballad, each singer taking different parts signaled by various masks they swapped in and out.
The wines in the second course were stronger than the prelude and first course. With every wine he appreciated the use of cups—more dishes really—that only held a sip or two at time. If they drank entire, actual cups all the time, nobody in the palace would ever be sober.
As the singers finished, they were replaced by another reading, a woman this time, with a beautiful voice, and her performance was so well done, she must be a professional of some sort. But Shafiq had said this was for smaller performers who would not have the opportunity to be widely seen otherwise.
"No one has actually given me any information about my dance tomorrow," Jankin said as they watched a pair of women dance, something that was a Lavarre barrel dance at its base but with components of Tavamaran fire dancing. Though sadly there was no fire. If he recalled, fire dancing wasn't really much of a thing anymore. He'd tried to find someone to teach him but had failed utterly. "I've been so busy today, I only just realized."
Shafiq gave away nothing on his face, but on his other side, Nadir rose smoothly and slipped away, behind a hedge that surely led nowhere? But must lead somewhere, in fact, because he did not reappear, and Jankin highly doubted he was just standing around behind a shrub for no reason.
He didn't ask, though, only went back to his wine and a discussion with Mazin about Petchian food, which leaned hard on being supremely spicy. No matter the meal or time of day, the food was guaranteed to bite back. It had taken him a few months to get used to that.
As the dancers finished and what seemed to be the final performance, given they were on the last course—a closing round of fruit, cheese, and sweets, with lighter wines again—Shafiq said, "All the information you require will be waiting in your room."
"Thank you," Jankin said. "I'm becoming rather spoiled by all this attention."
Shafiq smiled ever so briefly, something flickering in his eyes, but he only turned back to the performance and accepted the wine that Ender offered.
"Here," Berkant said softly, offering up wine, and then in such low tones that none but the two of them would be able to hear said, "You deserve spoiling, I think, and he'll do so as long as he may."
"He's known me two days. Not even that long."
"Time is fleeting for kings, as is your time here, by your own words. We enjoy what we can while we can, before time takes it away."
Jankin nodded and accepted the wine offered, not really trusting himself to speak.
He had traveled the world, been lauded, praised, showered with attention and gifts, warmed beds that people would happily murder to even glimpse. His life was an enviable one, impossible for most of the world, a wild dream they'd never fulfill.
Having the lowkey attention of a king for a few days, until the shine invariably wore off and the palace moved on to newer things, shouldn't affect him so much. But sitting there with Shafiq and his harem, he couldn't deny he hadn't been this happy or peaceful in a long time.
He wasn't certain what to do with that realization.
*~*~*
He spent the rest of his day, after lunch had concluded, practicing, with a brief pause to speak with the musicians who would be playing at the dinner. Far too easy to be distracted from training with a beautiful palace full of delightful distractions. By the time he was done, he was so exhausted he simply bathed, made certain he was suitably dried off, and went to sleep.
The next morning, he finally looked over what was expected of him for the evening. Dinner time, naturally, and it seemed he was the only performer. He would be expected to perform for a total of thirty minutes, with breaks between sets, of which he should plan five.
Just how private a dinner was this? Shafiq and jut a couple of others? Several others? Was he merely entertaining a king and his friends, or was he making guests more cooperative to the king's wishes?
First order of business was clothing. He gathered up everything he thought would suit such a performance and took it with him, headed first for the treasury to fetch his new necklace and then on to the practice hall.
Thankfully, nearly the first person he saw there was Dali. "Good morning, Mistress, you are just the person I was hoping to see."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"I wanted your advice on what best to wear for a performance tonight, during a private dinner His Majesty is hosting. I brought a few of my outfits…"
She scoffed and waved his bag away. "Nonsense, it is the duty of the palace to outfit you as long as you work here. Come, come, I have a few outfits in mind already. What is in the jewel case?"
"A gift from His Majesty for my performance the other night."
Dali whistled. "Never heard of him gifting performers jewels. Quite the achievement, pretty bird. Maybe he's trying to coax you into being his fourth, hmm? The king and queen are permitted five concubines apiece, you know. For a long time, it seemed that he would remain in grief and never find lovers. Everyone was quite happy when he finally took a concubine, and in only a matter of a year or so he had three. There are rumors he might ask Lord Mazin, but I think that's just nobles spinning tales. Time will tell." In the area sectioned off for clothing, fitting, etc., he set down his bag and opened the jewel case.
The reveal garnered another whistle from Dali. "My, my, peacock. If you were a noble, this could be considered a courting gift. Didn't you dine with him yesterday too?"
