Date: Tue, 12 Sep 2006 16:53:04 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jae Monroe <jaexmonroe@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Gift of Ys Chapter 5

This work is a product of the author's imagination, places, events and
people are either fictitious or used fictitiously and any resemblance to
real events, places, or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
The author retains full copyright to the material, and sincerely hopes you
like it!  If you have something to say about it that isn't flaming me then
email me at: jae.monroe@yahoo.com

Acknowledgment: Thanks so much to Richard for all his editing.


The Gift of Ys

By

Jae Monroe

Chapter 5


"Dreaming of me?"  A voice broke through Isidore's sleep and his eyes
flickered open at the sound of it.  He rolled over, wincing as he pressed
on to his bruised buttocks, quickly getting on to his side to regard the
possessor of that voice.

"Ah you are dreaming of me, it would seem."  Isidore's eyes widened
considerably to see Kylar watching him, leaning against a closed chest that
doubled as a table and, as it would seem, chair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, painfully aware that he remained naked
from the previous night, and in the midst of the Svarya's huge bed, so
Kylar must be thinking that they had...his cheeks flamed with
embarrassment.

"If I am in your dreams, little one, then 'tis not my fault I am here, 'tis
yours," Kylar replied with his beguiling grin.

"Oh foolish man, I am patently aware that I am awake," Isidore told him
irritably.

"You are grumpy in the morning," Kylar noted.  "Was it I beside whom you
awoke in the morning, you would not be so, I guarantee it."

"Can the Svarya trust you so little?"  Isidore's eyes widened in shock.
"To make such advances toward me while I am in his own bed."

Kylar looked thoroughly hurt.  "I only jest, little one," he said, all the
humour gone out of his voice, to be replaced with quiet solemnity.

Isidore felt terrible.  "I'm sorry," he said earnestly.  "I...I am new to
all of this; I do not know what is appropriate behaviour, what is jest and
what is not.  I'm sorry."

Kylar recovered some of his smile back.  "Aye, I heard that you have yet to
learn who to trust."

"Did...how do you know?" Isidore asked.

"Well, of course your punishment reverberated around the castle."  It was
an exaggeration, but not a huge one.  "And then there was the fact that you
listened to the words of that little viper Liwah who, by the way, has been
sent away for his efforts."

Isidore groaned; the humiliation of the first news outweighing any
jubilation that he was not to be subjected to further contact with the
duplicitous boy who had caused it.

"Does the whole castle know I was punished?" Isidore asked, his expression
revealing his mortification.

"Aye," Kylar answered, "you have a pair of lungs on you."

Isidore flopped on to his back and then winced as his buttocks reminded him
that he was not ready to do that just yet.  He rolled back to his side,
gritting his teeth against the discomfort.

"And might I ask once more what you do in here this early in the morning?"
This was said very respectfully for he still felt terrible about being so
rude to the only man in this gods-forgotten place who had showed him
kindness thus far.

"It would seem you are now to have constant supervision," Kylar replied,
"and I of course graciously put my hand up for the job, at least for
today."

"But have you not other duties which you must be about?" Isidore asked
politely.

"Well, to tell you the truth, your esteemed master and our beloved Svarya
has demanded it be either of his two most trusted men, which means 'twill
be either myself or Jalen who attend you daily from now on," Kylar informed
him.

"Jalen, he is the one who found me, is that right?"  Isidore remembered
Kerim calling the Daja who held him Jalen before said Daja had tossed him
to his possessor.

"Aye, and did you find him congenial as always?" Kylar asked with a grin.

"He did seem to have little time for me," Isidore answered with a nod.

"Aye that one; the mad fool seems to have a fierce dislike of Darani,"
Kylar told him honestly.  "I have known him almost as long as I have known
Kerim-ya and it seems he has only got worse.  I'm afraid even you, with all
your ample charm, will find him singly mistrustful of you."

"Ample charm?"  Isidore snorted derisively.  "You would be the only one who
thinks so; our esteemed Svarya believes I am a starved and stunted runt."

Kylar's eyes widened.  "Did he say thus?"

"His very words," Isidore said with a giggle.

"Ah, the fool; why does he do this?"  Kylar leaned back, looking at the
ceiling as though Lodur might lift it up and whisper to him the answer.  "I
swear 'tis because they dislike their pricks, the both of them; for Jalen
is as bad.  'Tis that they harbour a fierce hatred of their pricks and wish
to bestow upon them no pleasure whatsoever."

Isidore burst out laughing.  "I think 'tis because they dislike Darani and
their pricks suffer as a consequence."

"But who would dislike Darani?"  Kylar looked at him feigning incredulity.
"No, it must be that they hate their pricks first and then, to punish them,
will scare off all the Darani with their nastiness.  Because truly, gift of
Ys, you are no displeasing runt."

"I didn't think I was," Isidore replied, though during the night and with
his exhaustion, he had thought that very thing.  In the light of day,
however, after a long sleep, albeit broken off and on by his sore behind,
he could remember all those times when he had been advanced upon by
Sheq-Kis-Ran Dajani.  "But obviously I am not the kind of Dara that pleases
him; which is all for the better for though I am no runt, I am not large
and he is overlarge.  Therefore the less chance of my being subjected to
his lusts, the less chance of my meeting my death by them."

Kylar frowned.  "He will not kill you in his bed; do not think he has so
little control of himself for that to be a possibility."

"Oh I don't; but it is no matter, for he did tell me that he likes his
Darani more sturdy than I and, it appears, more experienced.  I was
celibate before I came here, which did not please him," Isidore replied
easily.

Kylar's mouth dropped.  "You were what, now?" he asked.

"I had followed the teachings of Ys, to bestow love purely and be free of
the snares of Osys," Isidore replied.  "So I have had no man and, after he
had learned this, I was then given my punishment and put to bed, without
any challenge to my vow of celibacy."

Kylar sat back for a moment, thinking this over.  There was not a man who
would find such a beautiful virgin Dara-Svaraya unenticing, so he wondered
why Kerim had refused himself the boy.  Perhaps he really did hate his
prick, Kylar thought sardonically, to deny it so lovely a prize.  But then
another thought occurred to him as he looked upon the boy swamped by the
bed, and he realized the more likely reason for his friend's hesitance.

"Come; get yourself dressed and I shall show you the city of Sherim-Ra
today," Kylar said brightly, changing the subject.  "And perhaps we can
entice our friend the envoy into joining us?  Then we could all have the
benefit of his engaging social commentary."

Isidore rolled back, groaning and not just with the pain in his behind.
"No!" he moaned, burying himself beneath the sheets.  "I had to endure that
man eight weeks on the road with only two days' reprieve; if I never see
him again it shall be too soon."

"Aye; well you did have to bring him back from Sheq-Kis-Ra," Kylar reminded
him.

"He left of his own accord!" Isidore said, peaking above the sheets.
"Though he may have wondered at his welcome after the Sheq-Kis-Ran Svarya's
runt of a Dara-son, who is only passing fair, was sent to his new master."

Since the discussion was growing too political in nature, Kylar veered it
away to a topic that was safer.  "If it will make you feel better, little
one, my friend does insult those he is particularly fond of.  I myself have
been called all manner of vile names, from Mol-Hotep's idiot son to a
Lodur-cursed dog, to a pile of steaming horseshit that is full of the
same."

Isidore collapsed in laughter.  "But are they not all very accurate
descriptions?" he managed to get out between giggles.

Kylar made to launch himself from the chest against which he was leaning.
"And you really are a little runt," he growled.

"Aye, but he had only met me when he started with the insults; for you he
has the benefit of years of friendship to diminish the sting of any such
barbs," Isidore replied.

"Perhaps, but it is my knowledge that the more deeply affected he is, the
graver the insult; with you he started insulting you the moment he saw you.
Perhaps that says something about the effect you had upon him," Kylar
suggested.

"Aye; and perhaps you are full of horseshit," Isidore replied, still
giggling, not wanting to give account to that summary, for it was unnerving
enough to think that Kerim found him unattractive; he would be utterly
thrown was he to find out that the opposite was true.

"Perhaps I am," Kylar conceded.  "Now have you finished being a slugabed?
Would it trouble you too much to drag yourself to a vertical position?"

Isidore shook his head.  "But you must leave first."

"Why?" Kylar asked, looking about him for the reason.

"Because I am naked," Isidore gritted out, his cheeks tinting rose.

"Ah, the Sheq-Kis-Ran modesty; I keep forgetting.  Poor Sheq-Kis-Ranians."
He shook his head, commiserating with those Dajani who were denied the
sight of their Darani by the Sheq-Kis-Ran constructs as he walked out of
the chamber to stand in the parlour while Isidore made himself ready for
the morning.

"Will you always wear so much smothering black?" Kylar asked him once he
had washed and dressed himself and it was safe for him to return to the
chamber.

"Smothering?"  Isidore looked down at himself.  He was wearing his usual
attire; a pair of fitted black trousers and a velvet camic; the latter not
devoid of embellishment, being trimmed with an embroidered border at the
cuffs and collar in a thin silver thread.  Then he remembered the gaudy
magenta scarf of Liwah and grimaced.  "I'm afraid I could never be
comfortable wearing what Sherim-Ran Darani wear," he said honestly.

"Why is that, little one?"  He pretended to lift the hem of Isidore's camic
which sat a few inches below the waist-band of his trousers and Isidore
jumped out of the way in a hurry.  "Oh come now, are you covered in scales
under all those stifling clothes?" Kylar joked.

"No, I have no scales, but I will never be comfortable showing as much skin
as do the Darani in this castle," Isidore replied.  "Tell me is it the
custom to wear so little only in the castle, or does the whole of Sherim-Ra
dress so scantily?"

"We shall find out, little one, for I will take you sight-seeing around
Sherim-Ra today," Kylar told him with a grin.

"Sight-seeing?"  Isidore looked up at him with a bright smile.  "That is
very kind of you."

He had been looking forward to seeing some new sights.  At least that had
been part of his plan upon embarking on this mission for Sheq-Kis-Ra, but
that was when he had not yet met the Svarya or realized that he might have
enough challenges within the castle walls, without needing to go outside
them for stimulation.

"Well, whilst I'd like to take the credit and thus be the recipient of all
your smiles of gratitude, 'tis actually at the behest of your master that
we do this, for he wishes you to see your new home so that you might grow
used to it all the better," Kylar replied.

Isidore smiled gratefully nonetheless.  "You shall always have my
gratitude," he told Kylar.  "For you have been the one person who has been
unequivocally kind to me since I've got here."  He took Kylar's large hand
between his own and kissed it, much as he would do with his brother.

Kylar flushed and withdrew his hand feeling a little uncomfortable.  "I
hope you will not misconstrue my kindness as having any deeper motive
than..."

Isidore grinned, stepping back from him to regard his reddened cheeks.
"Hah, you are blushing!"  He stated the obvious.  "Think you that I have
become ensnared by you, handsome Daja?" he asked playfully.

Kylar looked at him very seriously.  "You must remember to whom you have
been given," he warned Isidore.  "I would not; I mean, in spite of how you
look, I would never..."

Isidore burst out laughing.  "Ah, do not worry handsome Daja.  Even were
you so unscrupulous as that, you would find no willing participant in such
an affair in me for you remind me too much of my brother."

Kylar grinned suddenly, forgetting their topic for a moment.  "I remind you
of Barik-aya?"  He was flattered for Barik da Jornn was an impressive
warrior, if a little foolhardy on his last raid.  It was he who had injured
the Svar Garren dal Illin upon accosting the Svar's party and this was no
warrior to be trifled with.  Indeed, Barik had walked away without so much
as a graze from their skirmish and had only surrendered his sword when the
life of one of his fellow warriors had been threatened so as to induce him
to do so.  Kylar knew that Kerim would very much like to test his mettle
against Barik, but had decided to delay it so that he might meet the
Sheq-Kis-Ran Svaraya on more level territory and not when the man was still
being held in his own custody.  "This pleases me, little one, but I do
wonder why you think it will comfort me."

Isidore frowned as he watched Kylar from his position on his belly on the
parlour couch; he had tried sitting on his buttocks and it was still too
uncomfortable, though when the servant brought in his breakfast he would
endure any discomfort so that he wouldn't be seen to be suffering from his
previous evening's chastisement.  "Why do you think it would not comfort
you?  Since I see you as my brother you are utterly safe from my advances."

"Ah, in Sheq-Kis-Ra, relations between siblings are frowned upon, is that
right?"  Kylar remembered back to what he had heard mentioned in passing
when he had visited Sheq-Kis-Ra the one time.

"You mean they are not here?"  Isidore was shocked; he couldn't remember
that from his readings on Sherim-Ra.

"No," Kylar answered easily.  "Darani are not considered siblings in the
same sense as Dajani."

"Then how are they considered?" Isidore asked.

"They go into the house of their Daja father and brothers, but they must
serve them, once they are old enough, so each house might have a Daran
servant or two," Kylar replied.

Isidore gasped.  "And this is always so?  They are always servants?"

"It is the way of things," Kylar replied matter-of-factly.

"The way of things?"  As if that made it right!  "And is it true that
Darani have no choice over whom they must serve in bed?" he asked, his
voice subdued.

"Aye they do, Darani may say yes or no," Kylar replied.

"And if they refuse and are still...desired?" Isidore asked.

Kylar gave him a sympathetic look.  "Then I guess it becomes a matter of
who wants it more."

"You mean it becomes a test of strength?" Isidore asked, looking disgusted.

Kylar shrugged.  "This does not mean every Dara is subjected to rape.  If I
was refused I would respect it; I think a significant amount of Dajani have
enough respect for Darani that they would be the same."

Isidore gave him a look and Kylar looked away; so it was fortunate at that
time that the door to the parlour opened and a servant came in with
breakfast on a platter.  Isidore's dignity was entirely forgotten in his
consideration of the indignities visited on those of his kind so that he
barely noticed the servant laying down the breakfast tray, much less cared
enough to rise to a sitting position as he had planned on doing.

"It is the way of things."  It was all Kylar could say after the servant
had left, knowing that Isidore did not accept that line of reasoning one
bit; but there was no other recourse on the subject.  It was simply the way
things were in Sherim-Ra and he was no priest to argue the merits of their
order.

"And so if a Dara serves in the household of his father and brothers as
their slave; if they want him as bed-slave he is that too?" Isidore asked.

Knowing how Sheq-Kis-Ranians viewed relations between siblings, Kylar felt
a little uncomfortable at the question, fully aware that its answer would
meet with censure.  "Eat your breakfast," he said, trying to avoid the
subject.

"Answer my question," Isidore replied, his midnight-blue eyes meeting the
green ones of the Daja unflinchingly.

Kylar ran a flustered hand through his hair.  "Aye, if it is so desired,
then he will perform that role," he replied, not saying that in fact it was
often the only reason a Dara would be accepted into the house of his Dajan
father, so that he might prevent the man from having to purchase a Diya or
use a Purdiyani house.

"And if his paper-thin right of refusal is ignored, then his own father and
brothers will rape him?" Isidore asked, his voice becoming breathy with the
realization.

Kylar looked distinctly uncomfortable.  "Eat your breakfast," he instructed
again.

Isidore pushed the food away from him, getting to his feet.  "I have lost
my appetite," he said and then turned, marching away from the couch toward
the small square of window, looking out it and over the very city wherein
these grave injustices took place.

Kylar walked to where he was standing, swinging him around to tell him off
for refusing to do as he was told, but then he saw the midnight-blue eyes
were glistening with tears.  "What ails you so?" Kylar asked him, examining
the boy's averted face as though that would tell him the source of his
upset.

Isidore felt the tears sliding down his cheeks, but he was incapable of
even raising his hand to wipe them away as he watched the blurry view of
the town through the window, feeling as though every activity he saw taking
place as the town's-people went about their out of doors business was
tainted with what happened inside of them.

"It...I just can't believe it..."  He turned from the window, unable to
watch any more, and walked to the couch.  Sitting on his bruised behind he
bore the pain as penance; as though he might suffer it to atone for those
who suffered so much more at the hands of their own families.  He couldn't
help thinking about his own home, his own family; what if they had been
transposed into Sherim-Ra?  Would his father and brother have just used him
like that, without a care for how he felt?  Would the two men who made him
feel so protected in his life have just reverted to abusive monsters, if
their societal constructs approve of such?

"Do not worry yourself over it, little one," Kylar urged, concern in his
green eyes.

Isidore turned such an expression on him that Kylar actually flinched at
it.  "But how must it be for them?  How must it be to live each day with
the fear that you will have to pander to the desires of your own family?"
He pressed his fingertips to his mouth, his brow creased, though no more
tears fell.  "How must it feel for them to be afraid of their own fathers,
of their own brothers; that these might force themselves on them without a
care for how it makes them feel?  How must it be to not feel safe going to
sleep at night?"

"I don't know that it happens like that," Kylar said gently.  "I think
often the relationship is accepted and not feared."

"Did...do you have a Dara for brother?" Isidore asked and Kylar shook his
head.

He decided it would not be a good idea to tell the boy that many Darani
were simply not accepted by their fathers; so he never knew if he did, in
fact, have a Daran sibling that his father had refused.  Such were left to
be raised by rearing-centres which took on those charges that had no
fathers.  Ostensibly these could be either Dajan or Daran; but all Dajani
who had lost fathers in battle or the like were quickly adopted into other
houses, so it was only the unwanted Darani who were relegated to the
rearing-centres.

"Do not worry yourself over it, 'tis a lower class problem," Kylar tried to
console him.

"Is the Svarya sovereign of only the upper classes then?" Isidore demanded.

"No," Kylar replied, subdued.

He had never really thought about the way of their society; it had been so
since before he was born.  The Daran rights were altered by Svarya Vemiyar
da Jaal, Kerim's grandfather, so long ago that none had known enough about
before to question the ways now.  But seeing the distress it caused in this
Dara who had not grown up taking such ways of life for granted, he suddenly
felt answerable for his own complacency.  "I suppose you are not so keen to
see the city now?"

"No, I still wish to, but I shall view it with somewhat of a more informed
eye," Isidore replied.

"I will give you this warning, little one; with your new master, do not be
so disparaging of Sherim-Ra as you are with me; I do not get insulted, for
I choose not to take such things seriously.  But he is Svarya of all about
us in Sherim-Ra; he will likely take exception to your frequent expressions
of dismay toward our home," Kylar told him.

"I thank you for your warning," Isidore replied, getting to his feet since
his buttocks started feeling too uncomfortable from sitting on them for
more than ten minutes.

"You must eat something before we go," Kylar told him, sounding concerned.

"Truly, I am not hungry," Isidore said, looking down at the tray and
feeling his stomach rebel at the thought of what it contained.

"It is not good that you don't eat, little one, you are too...little,"
Kylar insisted.

"The way I am has nothing to do with food," Isidore huffed.  "You all think
I've been starved, but I assure you I ate very well back home."

He caught himself at those last words and looked to Kylar who regarded him
knowingly.

"Do you think you will start to view this as your home?" he asked Isidore.

Isidore hesitated.  "I can't deny that there is a large part of me that
wishes he would send me back, especially as I do not suit his particular
tastes."  Kylar hid his skepticism at this.  "And I do love Sheq-Kis-Ra and
all I have left behind in it."  Including most of my personal rights,
Isidore thought miserably.

"I see," Kylar said, getting to his feet.  "Well Sherim-Ra is very pretty,
I think, and the lands are well-run.  If you might find it a little quaint
and dated, so be it, but I think it has much to commend it."

His words reminded Isidore of what he had thought about Sherim-Ra not so
long ago: that its datedness in all things not pertaining to war might
actually be one of its commending features, for those of its libraries
still operating and its priesthoods would be founts of information from its
antiquated books.

"Do you know Sherim-Ra used to lead the brother cities in all things
scholastic?" Isidore told Kylar as they made their way out of the Svarya's
chambers and through the rest of the castle, to get to where their mount
was awaiting them and had been so for some time.  "I imagine that your
libraries might contain much to commend your home."

"Ah, yes, a scholar and a celibate."  Kylar gave that description with a
look of amusement.  "Do you know you picked the wrong packaging to be both
those things, Darima?"

Isidore flushed; he had always despaired of his features which bespoke far
more of sultry seduction than of sobriety and studiousness.  "I cannot help
my packaging," he said, then gasped as Kylar lifted him about the waist and
placed him atop the horse then effortlessly swung himself atop the tall
animal to land behind Isidore.

"We ride together?" Isidore asked, feeling a little strange to have the
Daja so close to him; feeling the muscles of his thighs through the fitted
buck-skin trousers pressing against his own.

"Aye," Kylar replied.  "Now stop questioning everything we do in Sherim-Ra
and just let me have the pleasure of feeling you all pressed up against me,
little one."

"Shall I squirm a little?  You did say that felt especially delightful."
Isidore looked up at the man behind him with a wicked smile.

Kylar grinned down at him.  "You'd better not," he warned, and then they
set off, the gates being opened for them as they left the stables and went
directly on the road that led to the centre of the city.

"You will have to point out all the important sights as we pass them,"
Isidore murmured, leaning back against the hard chest and watching the
roadside in relaxation.

Kylar pointed ahead of them.  "Aye, well to your right you'll see a fine
shed."

Isidore giggled.  "Senseless man.  I said the important sights."

"So you did," Kylar conceded.  "And I am senseless am I?"

"Utterly; I did say that to you when I first met you, you might remember,"
Isidore replied.

"You said you couldn't get a scrap of sense out of me; but that does not
mean I am senseless.  In fact it might mean that you are," Kylar replied.

"Indeed.  I must be devoid of sense, since I keep trying to get it out of
you," Isidore teased.

"'Tis well you have a pretty face then," Kylar replied blandly and Isidore
elbowed him.

Kylar leaned down to whisper in his ear.  "Lower, and don't use your
elbow."

Isidore turned to him in shock.  "I can imagine no Dara is safe around
you."

"Except you, little one, runtish, stunted and half-starved scrap of a Dara
that you are," Kylar replied and was rewarded with another elbow in his
guts.  "I do wonder if a mosquito is biting me, I keep feeling this slight
niggle in my side," the Daja teased him about the lack of strength in his
blows.

"I do wonder that the same mosquito isn't biting my back, I feel such a
small prick every now and then," Isidore replied and Kylar burst out
laughing in response, not in the least bit perturbed by the insult since he
knew exactly how prodigiously he was endowed.

"For a dusty old celibate you have the dirtiest mind," Kylar told him once
he had recovered from his laughter.  "And since I don't find you in the
least bit enticing, there really must be a mosquito bothering you."  He
wrapped the reins about the pommel and Isidore wondered for about a second
what he did that for, then he shrieked as Kylar lifted up the back of his
camic, exposing the soft smooth skin beneath it.

"What are you doing?" Isidore cried as he twisted around, trying to pull
down his camic and avoid the large hands which were shucking it up further.

"Looking for the mosquito," Kylar answered, sounding preoccupied as he
continued to hike up the thick velvet.  "And you're right, there are no
scales that I can see, although I really need to see a little..."

"Stop!  Stop!  Stop!" Isidore finally yelled and Kylar let go, letting him
yank down his camic.

"You Sheq-Kis-Ranians are really protective of your modesty," Kylar
commented once Isidore had adjusted his camic so that it recommenced
covering him from his neck to below the waistband of his trousers.

"If you mean we do not go flitting around dressed like Purdiyani, then yes,
we do care about our modesty," he replied huffily, "but I admit I am more
protective than most."

"I suppose, with your vow of celibacy and all," Kylar commented, nodding
sagely.

"I never took a vow," Isidore replied, straightening his camic at the front
unnecessarily.  "I just made up my mind to follow the precepts of Ys and
celibacy seemed to be a part of it.  But 'twas also that I didn't want to
be a slave to pleasure like my friend was and I knew I didn't need a Daja
to make my life worthwhile."

"Some very good reasons, little one," Kylar replied.  "And this friend who
was a slave to pleasure?"

"My friend Eiren; he is a Svar's son and came to foster with me so that I
might have a Daran companion growing up.  He is my best friend but very
different from me; he would not mind a bit dressing like they do in the
castle."

"Mmm, I'd like to meet this friend of yours," Kylar said, his interest
piqued.

"I'm sure he would love to meet you," Isidore replied with rolled eyes.

"You should send a missive and invite him to stay here awhile," Kylar said.

"Oh I'm sure," Isidore replied.  "Truth be told, I was going to ask my new
master if I might have him come and stay with me as companion and suchlike.
Eiren and I spoke of it before I left to come here, but...well last night I
wasn't really in any position to ask for anything, and the time before in
the receiving room, I despaired of him ever letting me have anything that
was important to me."

"I'm sure in this he will acquiesce; maybe not now but after a few months,"
Kylar assured him.

"Aye, maybe in a few months I will ask him if Eiren may visit," Isidore
replied thoughtfully.

"You no longer want him to stay permanently?" Kylar asked him, curiously
and Isidore hesitated a moment.  Before he could respond, Kylar answered
for him.  "Ah, you think he will chafe at the Sherim-Ran way of life as you
do."

"Probably not as much as I do, for Eiren is more playful than I; he might
find the rules regarding what is appropriate matter for thought not so
cumbersome as I because he tries to think of nothing except
fucking...but..."  Isidore knew what he said would likely go back to Kerim,
so he wondered how much he should say if he did want Eiren to visit.  "But
I think he might not take all the rules too seriously and then I would hate
to think of him being punished or some such."

"Do not Darani get punished in Sheq-Kis-Ra?" Kylar asked.

Isidore frowned; he didn't rightly know the answer to that.  He supposed
Diyani got punished if they disobeyed rules in the house to which they had
made themselves bond-slaves, and of course all men were punished for
breaking the laws pertaining to the land, Daja and Dara alike.

"I think those Darani who are Diyani or still children get punished, but
otherwise no," Isidore replied.

"What if they do as you did last night and disobeyed a direct order from
the Svarya?" Kylar asked, and Isidore flushed to be reminded of his own
completely uncharacteristic bad behaviour.

"I never disobeyed my father so I do not know," Isidore replied.  "I would
ask once if I wanted it, a second time if it was really important, and then
would I drop the subject and accept my father's rule."

"So tell me why you did not accept your new master's rule," Kylar asked and
Isidore sighed.

"I made a poor decision, but I am not given to disobedience," Isidore
replied softly. "You said your friend was just and fair, but to deny Darani
the benefit of insistence in matters which are important; that seems a
little unjust.  Also to deny me the right to see my brother before he left,
knowing I wouldn't see him for Lodur knows how long, that seemed a little
unkind."

"You should not question your master and especially not your Svarya," Kylar
admonished him.

"You are right," Isidore conceded.  The man spoke true; one did not
question one's Svarya to whom one owed unstinting devotion.  "Where are we
now?" he asked suddenly, noting that they had left passing houses and
fields and were now in a more built up part of the city.

"We are nearing the Quarter of the Temples," Kylar told him.  "I know you
are very devout, so I thought it might be nice for you to see the most
religious part of our city first."

Isidore looked all about him and imagined he could feel the air of the
divine permeating the area.  To the left he saw a building around whose
opening door was fashioned the fangs of a lion, so he knew this to be the
temple of Gimsaar, and across from it was represented the temple of Gesh,
with the signs of water and plants, the food of those that got eaten.

"Oh, wow!"  A wave of heat hit them as they approached one temple and
through its windows they could see that there burned a fiercely hot fire.

"The temple of Aegis," Kylar told him.  "Have you not seen one before?"

"I have, but 'tis only a ceremonial fire the Aegian priests are required to
keep burning, not a whole forge," Isidore said, feeling the heat as they
moved past the temple within which a forge was kept burning.

Opposite to the Aegian temple resided that of Aeoren, god of the
ploughshare, the brother-god to Aegis and representing all that may be got
without bloodshed.  There was a cool earthy smell to the temple and through
the windows could be seen much plant-life.  Isidore imagined it would be
far more pleasant to be an Aeorine priest than one for his brother-god.  He
shivered as they passed the temple of Mol-Hotep and focused more on that of
Mol-Jadin which represented just and fair appraisal rather than punishment
which Mol-Hotep practiced without temperance.

Then they approached the temples of Ys and Osys.  "I would like to make an
offering."  Isidore said suddenly, looking in the direction of the temple
of Ys.

"Of course."  Kylar veered his horse in the direction of the Ysian temple
and halted it.  "What will you give, little one?" he asked curiously.

Isidore pulled off the gold circlet that bound his braid.  It was studded
with precious jewels and just one of these would have been offering enough,
but Isidore never did stint when giving to the gods.  Also, he had no real
interest in money, never having been involved in its acquisition; he had
always taken for granted that it was available to him when he needed it.
He knew his father had sent money with him to Sherim-Ra so that he would
not arrive without means; what he did not know was that Kerim had sent
every coin that was associated with Isidore back to his father.

They were met at the door to the temple by an Ysian priest; tall and
slender, this one was Daja-born but had obviously been selected for the
priesthood by his lack of warrior's physique.

"Welcome supplicant."  The priest addressed this to Isidore since Kylar
stood some distance back, waiting.

Isidore bowed low before him, holding out his palm upon which sat the
circlet hair-binder.  Because he kept his head lowered, he did not see the
priest's eyes widen at the seeming value of the object, but Kylar did, and
he hid his smile to see how the priest was dying to bite it to ascertain
its true value.

Isidore kept his head lowered as he was led into the temple where sat the
icon of Ys and its presiding priest who would enable him to make his
supplication.  Isidore knelt before the priest, his head bowed low, and
felt the man's hand rest on his shoulder, his touch gently loving and
Isidore sucked in a deep breath at it.

"What is the nature of your supplication?" the presiding priest asked.

"I wouldst love purely but cannot," Isidore whispered, a typical
supplication made by one who followed Ys.

"In what sense?" the priest asked.

"I have been sold to a man's bed," Isidore replied.

The priest was silent for several moments and Isidore waited, his eyes upon
the hem of the man's robe before which he kneeled.

"First there came Ys and born through him was Osys," the priest said; "the
os cannot be practiced without the ys, thus is there purity of love even in
the carnal acts."  The priest lifted his pouch of stones from about his
neck and selected one from it, placing it into Isidore's palm.  It was a
black opaque crystal flecked with white snowflake-like dapples.  Isidore
stared at it a moment.

"Does something else trouble the supplicant?" the priest asked.

"I do not love him, Father," Isidore answered, still holding his hand palm
up with the stone upon it, but not looking up at the priest's face.

"For a supplicant of Ys to practice the carnal acts without love saddens
Him," the priest said seriously.  Ys felt no anger, only sadness over his
followers who broke his precepts, but his sadness was to be felt as a great
clawing pain in their hearts.

"What must I do, Father?" Isidore asked, feeling the sadness begin to
envelop him.

"You must love even if it is not returned, for to love unrequited is to
give love purely, thence will your carnal engagements not trouble your
heart or that of your god," the priest said, then fished through his pouch
to find another stone.  This, when it was dropped into Isidore's palm, was
one of purest white so that it almost glowed, giving back all the light
that hit it.

"Is the supplicant finished?" the priest asked.

Isidore nodded and then he felt the sweetly loving hand of the man rest
upon his shoulder, calming the troubling sadness of Ys somewhat.

"Make your supplication," the priest instructed him before leaning down to
kiss the top of his bowed head.

Isidore did as he was told and moved to kneel before the icon of Ys and
make his prayerful supplication with each stone clasped tightly in his
hands.  Afterwards, he kissed each stone and placed them at the base of the
statue.  Then he rose, bowing to the seated priest and those around the
icon, all of whom nodded back kindly, and retreated from the temple.

"Did you make your supplication?"  Kylar's voice brought him out of his
reverie and he smiled up at the man.

"I did," he said, stiffening just a little as he was lifted about the waist
and placed atop the horse.

Kylar jumped up behind him and then pulled the rein, veering the horse away
from the Ysian temple and back to the road.

"We shall pass the temples of the sun-brothers soon," Kylar told him.  "Do
you know your brother and his party were taken there at their request after
the raid gone awry?"

"I had heard that the raid went well enough but 'twas its after-effects
that led to disaster," Isidore commented as they passed by a courtyard
where the priests of the varying temples would meet and mingle.  "But they
were allowed to make amends for it to the Daja-ya then?"

"Indeed," Kylar told him.

"I am surprised.  The Svarya seems not the kind of man who would be so
magnanimous," Isidore said, though there was no censure in his voice.

"Kerim-ya has a lot of respect for your brother for he is a great warrior;
the Svarya was not even censorious of his actions," Kylar told him.  "He
said he would have probably done the same were he still feeling the effects
of a good raid."

"Really?" Isidore asked incredulously.

"Really.  He wanted very much to test his mettle against Barik-aya in
challenge; but wanted to wait until they were on neutral territory to do
so," Kylar told him, and then he grinned.  "Also, he felt 'twas best to ask
for something else for your brother's slight."

Isidore stiffened.  "I see," he said woodenly.

"Ah do not take it so badly, little one.  He had heard of your beauty and
saw the opportunity of having you, so he took it," Kylar told him.  "And
you cannot deny 'twas the best way to have an alliance formed between he
and your father; or would you rather have had a war simmering on both our
horizons?"

"No," Isidore conceded.

"Ah, we have reached the temple of the Daja-ya," Kylar said suddenly and as
they came upon the warriors' temple he made a sign of worship to the
Daja-ya.

Isidore turned in the other direction, toward the temple of the Dara-ya
and, as his eyes took in the scene, his mouth dropped.  Surely this was not
a place where the little sun-brother was worshipped?  It seemed as a temple
devoted to Osys, but in a less discrete manner.  In front stood a Dara whom
Isidore guessed was a priest, by the coronet he wore about his head, but
his robes were of a gauzy material and nearly transparent.  He was
approached by a Daja who leaned down to speak to him and then slid his hand
down to cup his buttocks through the filmy fabric of his robes.  The two of
them then walked into the temple.

"Is that the temple of the Dara-ya?" Isidore asked, reaching over Kylar's
hand and pulling on the rein to stop the horse.

"It is," Kylar said.  "Did you want to go and make an offering there also?"
He seemed a little uncomfortable with the prospect.

"I would like to see it," Isidore said, his voice devoid of all tone.

Kylar veered the horse around and pulled it up in front of the temple.  "If
you wish to make an offering, then I will give you coin to do so; you
cannot make an offering in the traditional sense."

Isidore frowned up at him once they had dismounted.  The traditional sense?
He wondered, for was not giving coin or items of value the traditional
manner of making any offering to the gods?

They were not greeted at the door by a priest, for that one had gone off
with the Daja he had seen before.  So they entered the temple themselves
and there Isidore got the shock of his life.

All around the temple there was...sex.  It was indeed like any shrine to
Osys; only the relations were not shielded from public view by curtains.
They were out in the open, all around, and the activities were being
undertaken by priests and supplicants alike.  His eyes flared as they lit
on one Dara-yan priest engaged in congress with two Dajani, the one
impaling him from behind, the other kneeling in front and the priest had
taken him into his mouth.  Further along he saw four men engaged with one
another: two Dajani, a Dara-yan priest and a Daran supplicant.  The
supplicant was lying on his back and taking the priest in his mouth; the
priest then had his mouth on the phallus of a kneeling Daja; and the other
Daja was presently lifting up the supplicant and positioning the Dara's
legs around his hips so that he might impale him that way.  All about was
this kind of congress; multiples of Darani and Dajani engaging in it
together, moaning and crying out as they cavorted.  The whole temple was
permeated with the scent of seed.  Isidore turned and pushed past Kylar,
running out of the unholy temple and into the bright suns-light, where he
leaned over, breathing deeply and bracing his hands on his knees while he
fought off the retching sensations.

"Isidore?"  Kylar came up behind him, his voice filled with concern.

Isidore straightened, turning to him in horror.  "Is that...is that what
they call worship in the temple of the Dara-ya?" he asked, his voice
diminished with his shock.

"It is making supplication," Kylar answered and Isidore's hand flew to his
mouth as he fought off another retching sensation.

What vile heresy was being practiced in the temple of his own people's
protector?  No wonder the Darani suffered so in Sherim-Ra; every day they
were committing such false worship in the temple of their own god.

"I want to go," Isidore said coldly.  "Do let us leave this apostate
temple."

Kylar did not question him further; merely following him to the horse and
lifting him atop it, then mounting himself.  Once they were far away from
the temple of the Dara-ya, he could feel Isidore begin to slightly relax
before him.

"I wish to go to the market," Isidore said, his voice still wooden.

"Certainly little one," Kylar said.

"And may I borrow coin from you to make a purchase?  I can repay you when
we return to the castle," Isidore told him, his voice remaining grave.

"Your master will see to all your expenses, so you may have as much coin as
you like for the markets," Kylar responded cheerfully.

"I only wish for enough to buy an image," Isidore replied and then was
silent as they turned in the direction of the markets when they got to the
end of the lane of temples.

"Whose image will you buy, Darima?" Kylar thought to ask him once they had
reached the markets.

"That of the Dara-ya," Isidore replied curtly as they walked past all the
teaming buyers and sellers.

He tried three stalls selling icons of a size appropriate to have in a
room.  He wasn't satisfied with any of the images, which all displayed the
Dara-ya as a sexual object with buttocks and phallus accentuated or on open
display.  At the fourth stall he managed to find an image of the Dara-ya
hidden among those more vulgar, which displayed him in a somewhat decent
state of dress and this Kylar supplied him with the coin to buy.  After it
was wrapped up in cloths he clutched it to his chest, shaking his head when
Kylar asked if he would like to browse any more of the market, and so they
made their way back to where their horse was tethered.

Isidore remained wide-eyed and close-mouthed all the way back to the
castle; merely shaking his head when he was asked if he would like to visit
anywhere else.  Thus were their explorations cut short for the day.  Kylar
tried several times to cajole him out of his silence, but soon realized the
futility of it when Isidore remained steeped in his own reflection.  They
were silent for the remainder of the ride.

After thanking Kylar most perfunctorily for the outing, he ran to the
Svarya's chambers, keeping his wrapped icon still clutched to his chest,
and there he let go his tears.  Kylar had been right in his summation of
him; Isidore was most devout.  And so it had actually made him ill to see
the defilement of the Dara-yan temple; to see what they called
supplication, which was little more than serving their own pleasure.  He
had read the scrolls of the Dara-ya; he knew such was sacrilege to His
precepts.  Fucking on the grounds of His temple, in front of His own image,
was foulest heresy.  Not only that, but they had sexualised all His images
so that the Dara-ya was depicted as little more than a vessel for pleasure,
and a slave thereof.  Ah to enslave a god!  What destruction would they
bring upon their heads in Sherim-Ra to do so?

His hands trembled as he unwrapped the image of the Dara-ya and kissed His
coolly serene face, a representation of modest and regal subjection.  He
thanked Lodur he had found this image which depicted the truth of the
Dara-ya.  He walked into the bed-chamber and placed the icon on a stand in
the corner left of the door, for that was where it was appropriate for Him
to go.  Once he had placed Him atop his stand, Isidore knelt before the
image and begged His forgiveness on behalf of the Sherim-Ranians for what
he had seen in the temple.  He recited an incantation of the Dara-yan
brotherhood, which he had learned as part of his studies.  He chose one he
had learned from the old scrolls; one that begged the Dara-ya to be
forgiving of the ignorance of His big brother, the Daja-ya; one that few
knew even existed and those who did kept quiet.  This he recited over and
over until his lips were sore from the whisperings, then he rose and kissed
the image before he moved away from it.

He was exhausted; the whole experience of the day had taken its toll on
him.  Only his second day in Sherim-Ra, and already he felt his heart
straining under its hefty punishment.  The doors to the balcony were open,
being kept propped so during the daylight hours, and so Isidore went out
feeling the heat of the afternoon suns envelop him.  Instinctively his feet
carried him in the direction in which he knew Sheq-Kis-Ra lay, since it was
to the west of Sherim-Ra.  Walking to the corner of the balcony which faced
directly into the falling brother-suns, he sat on the bench there and
closed his eyes in reflection; resting his head on his forearm which lay
across the balcony railing and sighing softly.