Page 18 of The Laws of Nature (Heirs of the Empire #3)

TOBI

H arok says, “ Idi nal, Suskara .” And takes hold of Tobi by the wrist. It seems it is time to go. Tobi tries to make himself remember the phrase idi nal , but his heart is clanging too hard.

Harok takes Tobi out of the chamber and Tobi scampers to keep up. Harok’s long legs mean his paces are almost double the size of Tobi’s own.

As they leave the chamber, Tobi notices that there are guards on either side of his door. They fall in behind them. Four of them, marching a respectful distance behind.

Harok leads Tobi along a different route to the one Lymok took, down a long corridor to a different flight of curving stone steps with iron bannisters wreathed thickly in ivy.

Truly, Urynwud is a maze as complicated and confusing as the Rose Palace, where Tobi would find himself getting lost any time he was left to wander by himself.

Damon and Lukas had seemed to know every last turn of the vast palace in Attar.

They once told him they had combined their knowledge.

Damon’s of the grand formal hallways and Lukas’s of the backways and servants passages.

And once they had all that, they had explored much more.

The levels that descended far below. Tunnels that went right under the Sarelik Temple.

Even a secret way down to the Gleam. Tobi explored with them on occasion, but he was never as fast or strong.

And he didn’t see much point in scrambling through filthy passageways when there were fine parlours in the Rose Palace with silk-covered settles and velvet cushions and richly spiced food on gold and silver plates and exotic teas served in porcelain as thin and delicate as bird bones.

Harok leads Tobi down the stairs and along a corridor to a wide door of wood and iron and Tobi finds himself back in the large courtyard behind the Sacred Hall, approaching it from a different direction.

It’s already late afternoon. Tobi’s first day in Urynwud has run through his fingers like rain water. The sun is low and honey-gold. In the courtyard, braziers are already lit and stoked high.

A wide canopy of fluttering white linen has been erected in the wooded grove that borders one side of the courtyard.

A place for revelry. Low tables are set in rows beneath the canopy’s shade, with bright silken cushions around them and each table is laden heavy with food and drink, everything decorated with leaves and flowers.

The sight is so beautiful it takes Tobi’s breath.

Many Ambolk are still dotted around the tables, setting out even more dishes, lighting the candles or bringing out more cushions.

It is clear this feast is meant to last long into the night.

Tobi’s feet are bare. His boots were taken along with everything else he had been wearing when he arrived.

He steps gingerly onto the rough cobbles of the courtyard.

Some of the Ambolk turn to look at him. Tobi smiles back at them and takes an elegant step forward.

At the sight of so much fine food Tobi realises he is quite desperately hungry.

He’d eaten little when they arrived, too overwhelmed by the sight of Urynwud.

As they pass a table where piles of fruit glisten on a silver platter, he reaches out and takes a peach.

Its furred skin is softly yielding in his fingers, clearly heavy with sweetness.

At one side of the canopied part of the clearing is a table that is raised on a platform. There is an ornate wooden chair — the finest chair under the canopy — set at its centre with a small pile of the silken cushions beside it.

Just before the dais, Harok turns. Tobi freezes under Harok’s gaze, his hand holding the peach to his mouth, about to bite.

Harok reaches out and takes the peach from Tobi’s fingers. He tosses it aside. From the corner of his eye, Tobi sees a servant rush to clean the mess away.

Harok says something in Ambolk and points to the cushions at the high table beside the ornate chair. His meaning is clear. That is where Tobi is to sit. And he is to wait for Harok’s command before he eats.

Tobi makes a sweet little bowing gesture, before trotting over to the pile of cushions and settling himself as elegantly as possible in the tiny garment he wears.

Harok is still standing in the centre of the lower tables, watching.

He narrows his eyes at Tobi. His expression could either be anger or lust, Tobi cannot tell.

Their eyes lock for a moment and Tobi feels his belly flip.

He takes a deep breath when Harok moves, stamping up onto the dais to sit himself heavily in the wooden chair.

He does not look at Tobi again. Or say anything else.

The table before them is heavy with more rich dishes.

Bread and fruit and delicate looking pale cheeses.

Wild mushrooms cooked in cream, buttered roots and roasted songbirds.

The scent of forest herbs, thyme, cicely and yarrow, drifts in the air.

In front of Harok’s seat is a roasted boar, glistening, waiting to be carved.

It has a bright red apple in its mouth. Tobi thinks sadly of the peach he almost took a bite from as his belly growls.

But he doesn’t have too long to wait. Harok nods to a herald who has appeared almost from nowhere. He steps over to a gong, set to one side of the low tables, takes up a small hammer and strikes it. It emits a low, shimmering sound.

At the sound of the gong, the servants setting the tables all drift away, assembling neatly, waiting in line, as the Ambolk nobles emerge from the Sacred Hall.

Most are dressed far more extravagantly than the receiving line that greeted Tobi and Harok earlier, in brightly coloured silks and cloaks of fur and coloured feathers.

Most still wear long strings of wooden beads, but they have other jewels, metals and gemstones, finely worked brooches and bangles and diadems. The wealth of the Ambolk mines is clearly on display at the anointing feast. The Ambolk women are not as tall as the men, although most are taller than Tobi.

Tobi is surprised that many of them do not dress very differently from the men.

In place of the chest harnesses some of them have wide leather bands that cover their breasts.

Tobi has never seen so many women wearing breeches, which is a rare sight in Azuria.

The women also wear the three stripes of black paint across their faces just as the Ambolk men do.

There are a few women Tobi takes to be pleasure slaves of some description, who wear outfits similar to his own alit, with wide gold bangles on their wrists and ankles.

He spots two men also dressed in such a way and is curious to see them.

Would they be called male kushwen? Both are slender youths with dark hair and typical Ambolk long limbs.

They are the only Ambolk men without beards.

One walks with one of the Ambolk men, another with a strong looking older woman.

There are also three Ambolk women who are accompanied by women in alits and jewels.

What Lymok told him must be true. Luxoli is not a crime here.

Although it is less common than the usual coupling practices of Azuria.

But the Ambolk are not scandalised that their king is sly or that he has taken a male kushir.

Tobi did not know there was anywhere in the world where people lived this way — except perhaps the isle of Luxoria where they have no laws at all, except that men should do whatever they wish.

The Ambolk do not sit. Each one stands at a cushion marked place and looks to Harok.

This must be how Harok shows his power, Tobi thinks, lounging comfortably in his chair while his people stand.

He waits until the tables are full and there are no more people streaming from the doors of Urynwud, before he reaches out, takes hold of one of Tobi’s wrists in his great hand and stands, urging Tobi to his feet.

As Harok rises, all the Ambolk drop, falling onto their knees, placing a hand over their hearts before pressing their foreheads to the ground, just as Harok had done with Tamello.

Standing beside Harok in front of his deferent subjects displaying their devotion, makes Tobi’s breath hitch in his throat.

Harok lifts his chin and says something in Ambolk. A sharp simple command.

The people at the tables all rise to their feet.

Harok says more. Tobi understands not a word of it, but it seems to be something rousing. At points the Ambolk cheer. Someone shouts something out that Tobi thinks sounds like a cry of praise for Harok.

Then Harok pulls Tobi closer, right in front of his own body as if he is displaying him to the people at the tables below. He says more Ambolk words and Tobi clearly picks out the word kushir.

The people cheer again. Tobi is being presented to the Ambolk. Is this the anointing? Is he being wed to Harok in this moment? In words and gestures he does not understand. He takes a breath and acknowledges them with a small bow.

Harok finishes speaking, leaving the Ambolk cheering and wild.

He retakes his seat and the Ambolk sit on their cushions.

Tobi sits too. Some of the Ambolk step up to join Harok on the dais.

Tobi recognises Kushel Yaelin and the old man with the staff who called Harok away from the stables.

Lymok comes up too, sitting himself a few places away from Tobi.

A band of minstrels start to play. Strange music to Tobi’s ears.

A mixture of pipes and drums accompanied by three singers, one man and two women, who add a strange rhythmic chanting to the harmonies.

It is like nothing he has ever heard in Azuria, but he likes it. It seems to make the grove come alive.