Page 32 of The Concubine King
After music was poetry recitation, followed by ‘etiquette,’ which was mostly about how to talk.The fact that anyone needed to be taught how to have a conversation was the dumbest thing Ethyr had ever heard, and yet he had to listen to Dessin lecture about ‘appropriate’ topics, how to smooth over lulls or pauses, how to enunciate and pronounce words ‘properly’.Ethyr was ready to chuck himself off the mountain by the end of it.His deep exhaustion did not help.Every time he began drifting off, chin on his palm, Dessin knocked on the desk and startled him awake.
Poyut stood outside the doorway the entire time.Ethyr wondered how she could bear it: standing still for so long with absolutely nothing to do.That would make him throw himself into the river for certain.
When the light in the room was dusky blue, Dessin walked them back to the front door, telling him everything they would work on the following day.
“I have to come back tomorrow?”Ethyr asked despondently.
“Of course, Your Divinity,” Dessin replied, gentle and slow as always.“You must learn how to be the best you that you can be.”
Ethyr scrunched his face, annoyed and disgusted.He would rather be with the gods, even if it was nerve-wracking and gave him the sleeping habits of an owl.
But the gods did not request him again.The rest of the week was filled with sitting in that boring room listening to a boring man talk about boring subjects.Occasionally acolytes would wander by, talking quietly or sweeping or reading, though sometimes it seemed they were just making excuses to come stare at him as they passed.If there were more than one they might even giggle together.
Every day was waking, getting dressed in ridiculous fashion, eating decadent food, studying ridiculous and tedious subjects, being condescended to and stared at, then washing and going to bed.He’d never been so miserable in his life, even after he readjusted to a normal sleep schedule.One morning he woke up early and tried to leave the palace to wander the gardens that surrounded it, but the guards wouldn’t let him leave without Poyut and he denied their offer to get her.The thought of spending time with her—or rather, forcing her to spend time with him—was only draining.
He stood on his balcony after another long day of studying, which never failed to leave him fatigued despite the fact that all he did was sit for hours.The new moon and hazy cloud cover offered no light, and he could hardly see the garden below.Humidity hung in the air like rain, undisturbed by the usually cooling properties of darkness.
It was the kind of night in which his village would build a large fire out in the field and they would eat together, talking and laughing and drinking.Hartus might bring his old lute and everyone would sing along with it, clapping their hands and stomping their feet, or dance around the fire, wavering firelight dancing along with them.No one missed the moon and stars then.Ethyr's heart ached, throbbing in his chest like a fresh wound.
He straightened off the railing and glanced inside his room.Everything was still, with only the constant roar of the waterfall filling the quiet.
A sudden strike of determination hit him.He strode inside and dug through the chests, pulling out his village clothes and any of the jewelry that had been left in his room.He put on the former and wrapped the latter in a silk shawl, tying the ends together to form a makeshift bag that he could sling over his shoulder.Then he ripped all the sheets off the bed.
He tied two together, then tied one end to the stone railing of the balcony.He knew, outside of the posted guards, that there were two always walking the perimeter of the palace opposite each other, but they were slow and the palace was wide enough that there were minutes at a time when no one passed below his room.He tried to see or hear if either were nearby, but with the darkness and waterfall, it was difficult to discern.There was no use in waiting.
He tossed the makeshift rope over the side of the balcony and climbed over, taking one last look at the luxurious room, looking a little less luxurious in its ransacked state.
He tried his weight and the sheet held, so with a deep breath, he gripped it and lowered himself down hand-over-hand.He had never been very strong, and spending the past two weeks doing nothing but sitting around certainly hadn’t helped matters.Fortunately it wasn’t too far to the ground.When his feet were on solid earth, he ducked into the shadow of the balcony and glanced around for a guard.None so far.
He wrapped up the end of the sheet-rope into a big wadded knot and, after a few tries, got it thrown back onto the balcony.That would buy him a few hours, at least.Then he crouched low and slunk around the side of the palace, sticking close to the wall.
He was at the corner when he heard footsteps at the other end.He whipped quickly to the other side and peered around to see the dark form of a guard strutting toward him.But he wasn’t chasing, and there was no cry of alarm.If that guard was there, the other one would be at the other wall.He sucked in another breath and continued a ways down the wall, then with a glance around, scurried into the garden.
Its manicured hedges were short, but when he crouched they hid him well.The labyrinthian pathway through the garden was paved with flat, round stones, not as perfectly interlocked as the street, but close enough that he could walk over the tops and avoid the noisy sea of pebbles that surrounded them.
There were always two guards at the front of the palace, watching the road, so he couldn’t go down that way.He wound his way to the back of the garden, a little sad that he finally got to be in one and he couldn’t take the time to enjoy it.
He poked his head above the bushes, double-checked there was no one around, and peered down the other side of the garden where the mountain sloped off.It was rocky, but it didn’t look steep.The real issue was getting over the hedge without rustling it, which would surely draw a guard’s attention.The wispy trees decorating the garden weren’t sturdy enough to climb, but they mostly held his weight, so he used the branches of one to clear the top of the bushes with as little contact as possible.
As soon as he dropped to the other side, sand and rocks slid under his feet and he couldn’t regain balance.He toppled down the slope, falling to his ass halfway and slamming his tail bone painfully into the craggy stone.He bit down hard to prevent a cry, but the sound of tumbling pebbles that went with him, rattling against each other and the hard surface, was definitely loud enough to be heard over the waterfall.As soon as he got his feet under him he sprinted to the nearest cover, a lone, twiggy bush growing from the mountainside.He curled up as small as he could behind it, heart pounding in his throat.
He tried to calm and quiet his breath, straining to hear anything, not daring to move.The minutes dragged on.
“—probably just an animal,” someone called from far above him, voice drifting away.
He sat another long while, maybe too long, trying to get control of his lungs and heart.Finally he looked up, scanning the clifftop where the garden was.Empty.He pulled himself up and continued—carefully—down the mountain.
Navigating the rocky, wild terrain in the dark took most of the night.Some areas he came upon were too steep to continue, and he had to walk around until he found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous.He still slipped several more times, or ran into the tree-like bushes that grew from the mountainside, nearly hard as rock themselves and scratching up his legs when he so much as brushed by them.
By the time he reached the bottom, the black sky was growing navy with the coming sun.He rushed between the houses into the street, then stuck where he could to walls and closed-up market stalls, keeping his head low.It was servants who woke first, and they didn’t have time to give him more than a glance as they hurried about on their chores.With a manicured road to follow, he made much better time, and he got to the bottom level of the city as the sun cleared the horizon.
This part of the city was mostly merchants and travelers; it didn’t have many houses, and the people didn’t look as lavishly dressed.They didn’t pay much attention to Ethyr as he slipped through the crowd, though he did cause some double-takes and murmurs.For once, he hoped it was about his looks and not because they recognized him.
There was already a line of people going in and out of the stone archway that framed the city gate.It led to a wide and high bridge, which he remembered the boat passing under when he first arrived.He pressed a hand over his lower face, pretending to pinch his nose at the smell, though he didn’t need to pretend hard.Being immaculately clean for weeks, surrounded by other pristine people and things, had the pungent tang of sweaty travelers hitting him like a wall.He fell into step behind a man and woman, keeping close to them and staring hard at their heels as they passed under the stone arch and the eyes of more guards.
Over the bridge, between two more guards posted at its other end, and then he was on open road.He almost couldn’t believe it.He’d made it out of the city.
But he’d been so intent on that part, he hadn’t thought farther ahead.He had no idea how to get home, or how long it would take on foot; he didn’t have any food or clean water, and he’d brought absolutely nothing for shelter or sleeping.
