Page 55 of The King's Menagerie

Shafiq did not seem amused. "The only menagerie worth having is one that gathers of its own choosing, and I believe Master Jankin is tired of being treated like an exhibit." He made a hand motion that Jankin did not understand, but the concubines clearly did, as Berkant took the wine that was right beside Shafiq's plate and passed it to Nadir, who poured a small measure into one of the many cups stacked in front of Jankin, right past his own plate.

He didn't know much about Tavamaran dining customs, but even a fool knew there was significance in being offered a cup of the wine that had been decanted explicitly for His Majesty. Nadir lifted the cup, and Jankin drank, then looked to Shafiq and bowed ever so slightly. "You're too generous, Your Majesty. Thank you."

Shafiq smiled. "So what is your favorite style of dance, if you have one?"

"My heart will always belong to the traditional Rittuen fan dance I learned first. Every year, fewer and fewer learn it, acombination of shifting practices, fading tradition, newer, more so-called interesting dances, that sort of thing."

"A pity," Shafiq said, "for it is a lovely, timeless dance."

"Time carries on, I suppose. Many of the modern dances are worth learning, but others I think will be forgotten before the year ends, and certainly by the end of the decade."

"I would imagine with your skill that you develop a special sense for such things," Berkant said. "Much like I can sense violence before it occurs."

"He has saved us much grief with that sense," Shafiq said. "As do Nadir and Ender with their own unique senses."

"For gossip fodder?" Ender asked dryly. "I don't know that being able to pick out the quiet happenings of the court is all that great a skill, unless you want an edge on placing your bets as to who is sleeping with whom and who the real father of a child is."

Jankin laughed. "Courts all over the world are much the same. I suppose when you don't have to worry about how to pay rent or afford food or finding a job that won't kill you young, you must take extra steps to have things to worry about. There was a woman who…invited me to spend additional time in her company…but I had a lover at the time and refused. Angry, she spun a tale of how I had wronged her to her husband, and I would have been beaten to death if my lover had not stepped in to halt the matter and clear everything up."

"You seem sad this lover is in the past," Shafiq said.

"A little, but our paths were quite different. He would have never wanted me to hold still where I did not want to, and he had duties he could not leave, being a Holy Protector of Tritacia."

Halikazen's brows rose in surprise. "A Holy Protector, amazing. I've only ever met one, and she was the closest any ofthem had ever come to retiring, but I heard a few years ago that she had been killed doing her duty. Tragic, truly."

"What is a Holy Protector?" Berkant asked.

It was the leering man who replied, "Overblown royal bodyguards. Tritacia's religion revolves around fate, that their three goddesses handpick the fate of every person. Children are taken to a temple, to stand before the altar and have their fate read to them by the head priest or priestess or whatever. Some of them are told they are fated to be bodyguards."

"It's called a destiny reading," Jankin said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. "Nothing specific. Fates are not 'you are meant to be a baker.' They are more like 'you are destined to bring comfort to those around you,' or 'you are fated to be a fighter,' or as was in Ramsay's case, his reading was that he was fated to protect people. As he grew and learned and trained, his acumen as a guardian was impressive enough that he was put on a path to serve as a royal guardian. A Holy Protector. He guards the crown prince to this day, so far as I know. As the Eshar said, they always die doing their duty. I've never known one to retire."

"A difficult calling," Shafiq said. "No one life is worth more than another, but the very nature of bodyguards tells us the lie in that grandiose statement. It distresses me constantly, and I have no respect for leaders who are careless with the lives of those who keep them safe."

"Just so," Halikazen replied.

"They understand the risks, and let's be real, some lives are more valuable than others," said the man who wouldn't stop leering. "Some deaths pass by without ever being noticed or felt."

"That is a sad commentary on society, not on the value of a life, Lord Asken," Shafiq said, voice calm, but with a slight edge. Pointedly shifting his attention, he looked at Jankin. "How long are you staying in Tavamara?"

"I rarely plan to stay anywhere an explicit amount of time," Jankin replied. "I'll leave when I feel there is nothing more for me to learn, at least for the time being."

Shafiq smiled, and though it was just a smile, the same soft, easy ones he'd offered the whole meal, it still fluttered in Jankin's chest for no good reason. Oh, good, he was going to be stupid about this. Couldn't avoid the attention of the man he didn't want; couldn't have the attention of the man he did want. What a dumbass. "We shall endeavor to keep your attention, then."

Conversation moved along then, ever shifting in subject matter, but throughout Jankin felt Asken's eyes on him, an increasingly heavy weight from the looming dread of trying to walk back to his room unmolested, knowing he would probably fail and that it would be easier to simply give in.

Why couldn't people just admire his dancing and company at dinner and be content?

As the final dishes and empty wine carafes were carried away, Shafiq signaled to the figures across the room, who rang a small gong signaling the conclusion of the banquet. As Jankin understood it, that did not mean people had to leave immediately, but no further wine or food would be forthcoming, and Shafiq was leaving.

"Accompany me, Master Jankin," Shafiq said. "Your room is on the same path."

Jankin froze for the barest second, taken aback by the not-really-a-request, because it seemed so out of character, though granted, one dinner wasn't enough to tell him everything about a person. "Of course, Your Majesty, the honor is mine." He rose and fell into step beside Shafiq, the beautiful harem folding around them, and the bodyguards aroundthem.

At the table, Halikazen seemed pleased and amused, and Asken looked like a man who wanted to throw a fit.

He didn't know the palace well, not even close—he could barely get to the whole three places he needed—but he was almost certain the royal quarters were nowhere near the guest quarters he resided in. Purely from a matter of safety that would make no sense.

It was not, however, his place to ask such questions.

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