Page 5 of The Laws of Nature (Heirs of the Empire #3)

TOBI

T hree days later, on the morning of Alios Day, Tobi wakes in his tiny caravan on the Copperhead Circus’s campground north of Riddlestone.

He snuggles up against the big, soft warm body of Baby, who takes up much more than half of his small bed.

Once, back in Fanost, he had shared a small caravan like this with his mother.

She would never have allowed him to let Baby sleep in his bed, but she is not here now and he does not care to sleep alone.

He buries his face in Baby’s fur, cooing, “Good morrow to you, my beautiful beast.” Baby purrs, stretching beside him as he pets her, before climbing from the bed.

He dresses quickly in a pair of his oldest black leather breeches, worn soft by the years, and a loose shirt of white linen, leaving the fastenings down the front unlaced over his bare chest.

The sun is rising as he steps out of the caravan, with Baby beside him on her rope harness.

The light is golden, promising a warm day to come.

Even here in northern Azuria, Alios day is usually bright and warm.

The carts and caravans are set up on a small patch of grassland on the banks of the river.

The grass is bright vivid green. The heat warms Tobi’s skin through the linen of his shirt. Summer stretches ahead.

All around him circus folk are already at work starting the job of setting up for the night’s show.

It’s a familiar sight and, to Tobi, beautiful.

He cannot imagine not being here. Bright days and sweet nights of glittering firelight and revelling.

In the circus, every night of the summer is a festival.

Tobi wanders across the grass in search of food to break his fast. A long low mess tent is pitched beside a small stream that crosses the grassland before the river.

As the weather is so fine its side panels are rolled up, leaving it open to the air.

Inside, at the long tables sit a wide variety of the circus folk, breaking their fast with rich porridges and fruit and bread.

Tobi strolls over to the table beside the cookfires and helps himself to a bowl of berries, giving the cook and serving maids an exuberant greeting and the boy tending the fire a wink. Then, turning, he walks over to the tables where he’s spotted Darvo.

Tobi likes Darvo very much. He is slow witted but very handsome, as if Zai had spent all his time on Darvo’s body and had nothing left for his mind.

His hair is such a pale blond it is almost white, close to the colour of Tobi’s hair on the lye soap treated side.

Darvo’s jaw is broad and his brow is heavy.

This morning, he wears a sleeveless jerkin and short breeches, showing off the thickly rounded muscles in his arms and legs.

Tobi has always enjoyed a man whose strength is visible.

Darvo could easily lift Tobi from the ground, throw him around, pin him down.

The thought of such a thing makes Tobi shiver.

It is something he thinks of quite often.

Although he is quite certain, Darvo is not sly and would have no interest in doing such things with Tobi even if he was.

Despite his strength, Darvo is soft as a kitten.

When Darvo sees Tobi, he greets him with an open armed cry of, “Beast Tamer,” Tobi strolls over smiling and leans to give Darvo a kiss on the cheek before slipping in to sit on his broad lap. “Good Morrow to you, my strong man,” Tobi says as he settles into place with Baby at their feet.

Darvo laughs heartily as he slides an arm around Tobi’s waist. “You sly cur,” he says in his low, deep voice, but he happily lets Tobi do as he pleases.

Tobi lifts a sweet fruit from his bowl and raises it to Darvo’s lips. “Can I interest you in a cherry, big man?” he says.

Darvo shakes his head, nodding to his own trencher which holds a pile of pork. “No thank you, Prince of Beasts. I have plenty of meat saved for me from the hog roast last night.”

Tobi laughs looking at the pile of greasy meat, “You eat like Baby,” he says as he pops the cherry into his own mouth.

“Ashaki is a fine beast,” Darvo replies, throwing a slice of pork from his trencher down to Baby, before picking up a fistful of meat and tearing at it with white teeth. He continues with his mouth full. “Zai’s will, I would grow as strong as her.”

Tobi laughs, petting Baby as she sits up, hoping for more of Darvo’s meat. He likes anyone who likes his cat.

After he’s eaten Tobi plans to take Baby to her pen, feed her breakfast then wrestle in the straw with her until they are both exhausted.

But before that, he will spare a little time to sit on the wide warm lap of a handsome man and eat berries in the sunshine, relishing each little burst of rich juice on his tongue.

He finds his gaze wandering over to the Amber Forest across the wide rush of the Ramriddle river that marks the boundary of the Azurian Empire. The dense trees are so dark against the bright sunshine they almost look black.

A strident call cuts through the tent. A familiar voice and sentiment. “Get off my husband, Beast Tamer, you luxorite slut.”

Tobi feels Darvo tense under him as they both look around. Myrtle, the tiny cook is strutting towards them, playful fury in her eyes. Tobi slides off Darvo’s lap to stand up as she reaches them.

“Just keeping your seat warm, Myrtle,” Tobi says, gesturing to Darvo’s lap as Myrtle plants herself in front of them, curled fists on her narrow hips. Tobi is not a tall man, but Myrtle barely reaches his chin.

“Is that so?” Myrtle says. “You know he’s not sly. You’re wasting your time if you think you’re going to get him into your sinful bed.”

Tobi claps a hand to his chest, stretching his eyes wide in mock shock.

“I am attempting no such thing. I would never dare to besmirch the reputation of your sweet husband. And he would never dream of committing sins of the body. I know he is devoted only to you sweet Myrtle. As Alios was to Gaari.” Tobi finishes his dramatic little speech, giving Myrtle a bow.

Myrtle scowls back at him.

Darvo says, “Beast Tamer and I were just being friendly, Myr.”

“Huh,” Myrtle says. She turns to look at Darvo and grasps his chin in her hand. “You better be behaving yourself.”

“Always, Myr,” Darvo says, voice a little mangled by her grip on his face.

Tobi sits down beside Darvo on the bench, eyeing them as he finishes his berries.

Myrtle and Darvo have a very intriguing relationship.

Myrtle is tiny and Darvo is a giant of a man, but there is no doubt who is in charge.

Tobi was not joking when he said Darvo was devoted to Myrtle.

She always saves him extra meat from every roast and stew, but Tobi does not think Darvo is only following his belly’s demands when he looks at Myrtle with wide eyes.

Tobi is just eating his last berry and about to take his leave in favour of some time with Baby, when he sees Cyrus Copperhead strolling across the grass. Just seeing Cyrus makes Tobi wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and sit up straighter.

Cyrus is dressed in a flowing silken robe. It’s black, embellished with gold flowers. Tobi knows Cyrus often wears it to sleep in. “Good morrow, Cyrus,” Tobi says brightly. “I was just about to check on Baby. Do you need my help with anything?”

Cyrus styles himself Lord Cyrus Copperhead. Tobi is certain Cyrus has no more claim to a noble title than Tobi does himself, and likely far less. Cyrus is ambitious, but clearly baseborn.

Even Copperhead, Tobi has heard, is not his true name.

A nickname he earned as a child growing up in the slums of Ceruleum where his auburn hair and sharp features combined with a sharp mind, reminded people of the notoriously intelligent species of reddish-coloured rats.

It suits Cyrus to be named after a type of rat.

Cyrus rarely requires Tobi for anything these days. Several years ago he turned his attention away from Tobi to one of the younger men who perform juggling tricks. The rejection still smarts sometimes. He’d hate to admit it, but Tobi still misses Cyrus’s imaginative savagery in bed.

“You,” Cyrus eyes Tobi like he is somehow soiled. “No. I was looking for Gael.”

Gael. The horse master’s son. So Cyrus has moved on again. Found a younger model once more. Tobi sniffs. Gael cannot have seen more than twenty summers. Tobi tries not to pout as Cyrus swaggers away in search of the youngest man he can persuade into his bed of skilful, imaginative cruelties.

Dusk is starting to fall and the lamps are being lit around the circle. Tobi is dressed for his performance in high boots and a pair of much tighter breeches than the ones he wore to spend the day with Baby. He has dark paint around his eyes to enhance them.

Everywhere around Tobi circus folk are preparing.

Jugglers and actors, singers and acrobats rush to and fro, costumes and props trailing.

On one side of the circle the musicians practise, playing jolly songs on drums and lutes.

The atmosphere is heady, Tobi can feel a familiar thrill rising in his body.

But the performance he is dressed for never happens.

Tobi is waiting on the edge of the circle for Cyrus to start the show when the air breaks with a strange rumble like distant thunder. With it comes a loud cry, a deep voice shouting, “Hai, hai!” Accompanied by a strange ululating. A sound like nothing Tobi has ever heard before.

The band stops playing. The circus folk all look around. The assembling audience look confused, as if wondering that this could be part of the show. Dozens of horsemen crest a small hill and come riding up along the river bank. Huge horsemen on equally huge horses.

Ambolk warriors.