The Invisible Hands - Part 1: Gambit (42 page)

35
“And we want our independence, our freedom, under a liberal

ruler. That’s something worth making sacrifices for. Fighting for even.”

“Yes, freedom and safety are worth something, aren’t they?” Anaxantis agreed.

For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say something else.

Then he reconsidered.

”Well, I have to go. Take care of yourself, Uppam.”

Anaxantis took the old man in his arms.

“Remember, I need you,” he added and let go.

“And we need you,”
Uppam Fraleck thought when the door closed behind the prince. He shook his head.
“Oh, this is preposterous. Our
decision is the result of a thorough cost-benefit analysis. It is just
sound business. Nothing more. Nothing else.”

Riathona had, as was proper for the spouse of a Rhonoman noble, followed her husband who was leaving on his mission, to the Sacred Boundary of the City. It lay in a rough circle, some two miles outside 35
the walls. At that particular spot, where it was crossed by the Soranzan Highway, it was marked by an insignificant rivulet, called the Ilvo, which was considered too shallow to need a bridge. Besides tradition, and probably the Gods, forbade the construction of one.

She stood on the Hill of Goodbyes, an artificial height that was erected in time immemorial. Each of the four main highways had one such elevation near the Sacred Boundary. In wartime members of the directorate and the senate saw the troops off, while priests offered to the Gods to implore victory for the City. In times of peace families gathered there when one of theirs took off for a prolonged, far away journey.

There had been no displays of unseemly public affection. A proper embrace for Bur, her husband, and Yorn, her son. Antybion had stood by, neither expecting nor particularly reluctant to be included.

Riathona had hesitated but a fraction of a second, and then she had put her arms around the boy who she called her nephew. She had laid a hand on a shoulder of each of them.

“Take care of each other, boys,” she had said.

She had looked Antybion in the eyes and knew she was understood.

She lit the fire under a small offering of incense that lay on the stone altar. Riathona inhaled a whiff of fragrant smoke and turned back to follow with her eyes as the small caravan crossed the Ilvo.

The preparations for the journey had been maddening, not to mention expensive. Swords, shields, in fact everything made of metal had tripled, almost quadrupled in price. Even kettles were at a premium.

“Iron,” she had barked, exasperated, at a frightened merchant.

“Iron stirrups will do. They needn’t be made out of gold.”

35
The man had explained to her that there was a shortage of all kinds

of metal because there was a high foreign demand. Hence the prices had risen. To her exasperation, the same seemed to be happening with yew tree wood of which bows were made. Clothes seemed to have been exempt from the sudden rise in price, which was but a small consola— tion, considering that good quality linen and leather had always been expensive, even in the best of times. The cost of tents and their ac— couterments, at least, was actually rather reasonable.

Then there was the money for her husband and the boys to pay their way in a manner that was worthy of the head of a noble Rhonoman kinship, a prefect, as good as a senator, and almost certainly a future member of the directorate. There were ten servants and an armed guard of thirty. Of course they needed horses to ride and pack animals.

And they all needed to be fed.

In the long run none of that mattered too much. It was an investment. Riathona was the silent and senior partner of a trading firm. It wouldn’t do to be too overt about it, but there was only a slight degree of shame involved. Most of the noble kinships, even the oldest and most august among them, used the same construction. Rhonomans attached an enormous value to dignity and decorum, an importance that was only rivaled by their sense of the practical. Yes, land was the pride and mainstay of the ruling class, but to maintain their position it didn’t bring in nearly enough. Monetary matters were slightly distasteful and seldom talked about in polite company, but that didn’t prevent the nobility from realizing the importance of having hard cash, and plenty of it. As a result all the noble kinships were involved in business, albeit that they always used figureheads. Everybody knew it, most of all they themselves about each other, but it was never, ever said out loud or even alluded to in public. Privately, from time to time, they gave each other tips about business opportunities, but only in whispered tones.

35
Riathona had even less of an innate aversion to business, notwithstanding her ambition to break into the circle of noble kinships. She had convened the handful of partners, a negligible lot, and the caretakers of her firm. She had appointed, Mennocras Ergas, a bright young man in his late twenties, as head of the commercial part of the delegation, and given him instructions to explore the business opportunities of the province in general, and of the so called Forty Merchant Houses in particular.

Late in the afternoon, before it became too dark, Bur made his little caravan stop and make camp upon a convenient meadow beside the highway. While the servants erected the main tents, one for their master and one for the boys, the soldiers dug a shallow moat around the camp and erected a pole, upon which they had attached a shield with the Rhonoman lion rampant flourishing a sword.

After Bur, Yorn and Antybion had eaten together, the boys left for their own tent. Darkness was falling, it was cold, and what else was there to do than go to sleep early? The servants had prepared two straw sacks and beddings at the far end of the tent.

Antybion removed all his clothes without much ado and draped them over one of the foldable chairs. Yorn had tried not to look, but had risked a glimpse nevertheless out of the corner of his eyes. He blushed, seeing the svelte, stringy profile of the naked young man by the sputtering single flame of the oil lamp. Antybion, totally oblivious of the effect he was having on his adoptive cousin, stretched himself and scratched his bush. He shivered and lay down quickly under the covers.

Yorn had meanwhile removed his mantle and his boots, and without taking off anything else made for his resting place. Antybion gave him a surprised look.

“Are you going to sleep with all your clothes on?” he asked.

35
Yorn colored red again, hoping the dim light would conceal his

embarrassment.

“It’s cold,” he answered as he got under his blanket.

“You’ll be even more cold tomorrow, you know. You will be sweating in your clothes at night and the dampness will make you feel miserable and chilly all day. It’s not healthy either.”

“You think?”

“I know,” came the laconic answer.

From under the blankets Yorn began to remove his clothes, hesitantly, one by one. He ranged them beside him. The last items were his heavy woolen socks.

“I’m freezing,” he said after a few minutes.

Without a word Antybion moved closer toward him and rearranged the covers so that they overlapped them both.

“It’s the air. You need to have a pocket of air, captured under the blankets. Once our bodies have warmed the air, it will warm our bodies. It sounds strange, I know, but it works. You’ll see.”

Yorn lay flat on his back, motionless, feeling his member grow at the sheer thought of the nearness of their naked bodies. Antybion turned on his side, jutting his butt out against Yorn’s hip. The young Rhonoman wasn’t cold anymore. He was sweating. Soon Antybion’s breath became slightly heavier and regular, a sure sign that he had fallen asleep. Yorn turned on his side as well, careful to not touch his cousin and gingerly reached over his body. Ever so lightly, with only the gentlest of touches he felt around, letting the palm of his hand glide delicately over the lush pubic hair, and then lower to his cousin’s member. He tried to be as quiet as possible, only breathing through his mouth, for fear of waking the other boy. He felt his own member 36
become rock hard and touching Antybion’s buttocks. Trying to draw

back, his hand involuntary exerted more pressure.

Antybion moved in his sleep, woke and opened his eyes. The little oil lamp on the foldable table was still giving off a quivering light. He became fully conscious, just in time to notice an arm being removed from his body. He lifted himself half on his elbows and looked at Yorn who had pressed his eyes close in an unnatural, tight way, hoping against all hope Antybion would think he had been asleep all along.

No such luck.

“Yorn, was that you?”

“Yes,” Yorn said in a hoarse, rasping voice, still keeping his eyes firmly shut.

He had been brought up a Rhonoman noble and he was taught that he had to face whatever needed to be faced. No excuses, no shirking of responsibilities. Absolutely no lying. Also, it was simply who he was.

“You were touching my dick,” Antybion stated. It was not an accusation. Not even a question.

“Yes. I was. Sorry.”

Antybion cocked his head.

“Why? Were you curious? You have one yourself. It must be very similar.”

He stuck his head under the blankets.

“No, don’t look, don’t look, please,” Yorn said, panicking.

But it was too late, because by then Antybion had removed the upper part of their covers.

“I don’t understand. Yours is a bit smaller, but for the rest—”

36
“The hair. Don’t you see? The hair. It’s… it’s ugly. It’s as if I’m an animal.”

Antybion let his hand wander over Yorn’s chest and belly, which were covered in black hairs. The gesture made Yorn shiver. With cold, he hoped.

“Don’t… it’s ugly,” he whimpered.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve seen it often on guys from our village. Some have it, some don’t. You do. I don’t.”

Antybion shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. Yours is soft. Nice to the touch. There aren’t even that many of them. Just a silky covering.”

Yorn pulled the covers up over the both of them.

“I don’t like it. I’d rather be like you. Smooth.”

Yorn frowned.

“I think I heard some girls say that they removed unwanted hair with a mixture of bee’s wax and honey.” He yawned. “If it bothers you that much, maybe we should look into that.”

Yorn didn’t know what to think. He had hated the hairs on his chest from the first day he had noticed them. At first he had pulled them out, one by one, but soon there were so many of them that they covered his chest and belly in a soft down. He had been desperate to hide them, and never went for a swim with his friends, afraid they would laugh at him and call him a wild animal. He wouldn’t have been surprised. He looked hideous, covered in fur as he was. It made him appear as less than human. It was unsightly. Who could ever love him?

Who would ever want him with all that hair? And here was this guy, seemingly not even minding them in the slightest, as if his hirsute body was the most normal thing in the world.

36
“Still, why were you feeling up my dick?” Antybion asked, jolting

his cousin out of his morose thoughts.

“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Yorn stammered.

“Sorry? Why?”

Yorn looked away, thoroughly embarrassed.

“I shouldn’t have, should I? Not without your consent.”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” Yorn asked, tilting his head again.

He lay down and raked his hand through his sand colored hair.

“You can feel my cock whenever you want. You don’t have to ask, since you seem to like it. But I warn you, it’s just a dick, nothing special. I’ve seen bigger ones.”

From under the covers he took hold of Yorn’s hand and laid it upon his member.

“See? Just a dick.”

Yorn gulped, feeling self-conscious and relieved at the same time.

He didn’t know what to say. He could hardly thank his cousin, could he? He would feel completely ridiculous, and he already felt humiliated as it was. Yorn withdrew his hand, trying not to disturb the already sleeping boy next to him and turned on his side.

The next morning Yorn discovered Antybion had been right. He had slept soundly and his bed felt so warm and cozy he was reluctant to leave it. He looked sleepily around and saw his cousin wasn’t lying beside him. He noticed two buckets. When he got up, shivering and wrapping a blanket around him, he saw they were filled with water.

One was obviously used, but the water in the other was clear. Antybion must have woken earlier, fetched them and used one to wash himself.

On a nearby stool was a dry towel and a piece of soap.

36
With teeth chattering from cold he washed up as fast as he could.

His clothes felt cold when he put them on, but at least they were dry.

Soon they felt warm as well.

After breakfast the soldiers and the servants broke camp. When Bur gave the signal, the boys mounted their horses. Yorn had gripped two of the four horns of his saddle to hoist himself up, but fell on his back, dragging the saddle with him. Fast as lightning Antybion was beside him, helping him up. While Yorn was wiping the dirt from his clothes, his cousin was looking at the saddle.

“There seems nothing wrong with it. One of the servants must have neglected to fasten the girth. That’s the only explanation.”

Antybion put the saddle back on the horse. After he was done he gave it a few tugs, to make certain it was secure.

As Yorn mounted his horse again, he saw out of the corner of an eye the youngest servant, a boy of his own age, smirk. He looked to see if Antybion had noticed, but his cousin was looking the other way.

The day’s journey was uneventful.

Antybion went for a walk after dinner, although dark had already fallen. When he returned into their tent he undressed immediately.

Yorn looked on, not disguising he did so, but trying to look disinterested. Although he now had full permission to feel over whatever he wanted to feel over, he kept his hands to himself. Somehow the allure had gone.

Next morning the youngest servant had gone missing. After a short search he was found, his neck broken. He appeared to have fallen into a crevice. Since he wasn’t anybody important he was buried on the spot, without a marker. Bur ordered his scribe to make a note of the incident, and then the party set out for the day.