Jankin bowed, murmured one last thank you, and departed, winding the wrap he'd brought along around his shoulders to ward off the chill that always fell once it grew dark. Were the concubines allowed to do such things? Or were they expected to go about bare-chested no matter the temperature?Or maybe they were used to it going from incredibly hot to ridiculously cold, and it didn't bother them. Certainly he'd seen people living in frozen climates walk about in short sleeves while it was snowing.
His escort led him to a section of the palace that was very clearly reserved for the royal families. They weren't like, grossly opulent or anything, but there were more flowers, more guards, and everything here seemed a bit quieter, softer, than elsewhere.
Guards were posted, blocking the open doors that would likely be closed and locked at some point, and Jankin said hesitantly, "I am here to perform at a private dinner?"
"Keep walking, it's the room with blue doors carved with birds. A servant will be waiting for you."
"Thank you. This place is quite overwhelming, I appreciate any and all assistance."
"We're always happy to help, Master Jankin."
They even knew his name, wow. Usually guards and such didn't bother, and why would they? There were much greater concerns on their minds.
As promised, he found the room with a beautiful set of double doors painted blue and covered in carvings of all manner of birds, largest at the bottom to smallest at the top. Beside the doors was a young man. "Master Jankin?"
"Yes, that's me. I hope I'm not late."
"No, still early. Would you like water or anything?"
"Water would be lovely."
"This way." The man led him through a door a short distance down the hall from the blue doors, into an antechamber room, small and minimally filled, but still beautifully appointed. He poured water from a crystal pitcher into a matching glass and handed it to Jankin. "A bell will ring shortly, go through that curtain there, you'll see where to dance and everything fromthere. Not so different from your first night, really, just smaller in scale."
"Thank you." He finished the water, set the cup aside, and went to stand close to the curtain, which was mostly beading.
Just minutes later the bell rang, and he pushed through into a room that skirted close to opulent, all blue and black and gold, fresh flowers and even a small fountain of trickling water. In the corner were the duo who'd be playing the music for his dance. He smiled and nodded before getting into position, and in the next breath, the music began, and he fell into it.
As it was a private dance, though not as private as he'd secretly like, his dances were a bit more sensual, every move slower and more drawing, not the energetic fanfare used for public performances. He rarely watched the audience as he performed, mostly because it was basically impossible, but also because it could be distracting, especially if they were leering—or worse—and immediately made him uncomfortable, which broke his concentration.
He wished he could look now, though, whenever the dance allowed, because he'd like to see the approval on Shafiq's face, that soft smile he offered up so rarely.
Instead, he put his all into the dance, same as ever. He'd dedicated his entire life to the skill and never did it by half.
When the first set ended, he bowed and withdrew, gulping down water when he was back in the antechamber. Moving back to the curtains, he asked the servant, "Who are all these people?" Men, mostly, about ten in all, not including Shafiq and his concubines. Only two of the guests were women. They were all dressed in beautiful finery. Strangely, though, the harem wasn't scattered about the guests as they would normally be at such an affair, at least as Jankin understood matters. Nadir and Ender sat on either side of Shafiq, and served only him.Berkant was the only one seated elsewhere, right between the two women.
Jankin wasdyingto know all the politics of it all, the subtle moves taking place, the silent conversations happening, who was being rewarded, who punished, why, the fall out…
He'd never been interested in such things, except passively, but it had never been this interesting before. What would it be like, to be part of the game, work with the others to do what Shafiq needed, moving pieces quietly and subtly, then returning to their chambers to discuss it all?
Lately it felt like he was becoming someone else. Someone who wanted to hold still. He wasn't sure what to do with that.
He went out as the bell rang again, dancing the second part of the dance he'd broken into three, this section a little bit faster than the first, and the third would go slower again, with the fourth and fifth being each their own thing.
At the end of the second set, a fresh pitcher of water waited for him. "Thank you."
The servant smiled. "You really do dance beautifully, Master Jankin. I am surprised you were not sponsored by your own king."
"I had plenty of offers, but at the time I first left Rittu, I wasn't good enough to catch a royal eye, and I wouldn't have wanted to stay in one place anyway. Later, it was well known I preferred travel, and so he didn't ask. Anyway, the king has plenty of dancers. He hardly needed one more."
Plus, there was nothing as thorny and treacherous as the Rittuen court, and he had no desire to get involved in that mess.
Funny how he felt so completely opposite when it came to the Tavamaran court. Clearly he just needed the right incentive, in the form of a handsome, compassionate king. What a silly fool he was.
By the time he'd finished his water and tidied up his hair from two rounds of dancing, it was time for the third. Probably seemed absurd to go back and forth so much, and certainly he'd been made to dance for long periods of time without stopping before—it happened a lot in the Havarin colonies, where every Margrave fancied themselves a king—but he was aways immensely grateful when people let him rest.
He caught Shafiq's gaze this time as he entered the room, though not on purpose. There was a hint of a smile, though his attention remained on his guests.
The last part of this dance was slower than the first two. When performed in its entirety, the concept was of a flower growing, thriving in full bloom, and then finally wilting. It was often performed with fans, ribbons, or other accessories to further that. Given he was working in a small space, though, he'd opted out of using them. On one occasion he'd performed it with four other dancers, each of them a different color/flower, representing a whole garden growing and fading through the seasons.
