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Roy hadn't been in Xerxes for even a day. The caravan from Xing had all but scattered upon arrival, and he found himself wandering the bustling streets alone. He shouldered his pack, careful of the instrument within.
Whatever had possessed him to cross the desert was bolstered by the sight of the city. There hadn't been much room in Xing for a half-blooded bastard, and he'd been teased with the legends of the musicians of Xerxes since his earliest memories.
The only thing he owned of value was his father's doumbek, but it was his aunt who taught him to play the complex rhythms. Doum Tek tek-ka Tek Doum tek-ka Tek! The traditional oration of syllables filled his mind as easily as Xingese and Xerxesian. He'd learned all these things so young. Now that he was grown, they were second nature.
He had grown up playing for his aunt's dancing girls and knew the exact patterns to get their hips to move. The flowing cloth that hung from their belts had waved inches before his nose from the first day he'd held his drum, and he'd always appreciated the beauty of their motions.
But they'd never inspired that dark desire he'd seen in lurking in the eyes of men who came to watch his sisters dance. Even when he was grown, he had never felt such a strong want.
Here in Xerxes, unlike that simple trade town that straddled the border of the two nations, the sound of drums filled the air. Notes the ney carried over the crowds and rung in his ears. He had only to find the right circle, and he would have a home in this land that was so foreign to him, yet held such familiarity that it tore at his heart.
The sweet sound of strings hit him in the chest, and he followed the lure. There was no pulse to accompany the clever fingers. He knew that in them were the makings of a circle of his own creation, if only he could find the source.
He wove through the crowds, reaching into his pack for his father's doumbek. He clutched it beneath his left arm, swaying with the strings as the notes moved through him.
There! The crowd cleared enough so that he could see his calling, but he stopped short.
A vision was dancing before his eyes, golden as the sun and glittering beneath the light of it. As the creature stretched from pose to pose, Roy was put under a spell. His fingers rose to add another layer to the sinuous cry of the oud, rhythms tapped out in crisp reply.
The dancer spun toward him, gilded strands of hair floating through the air to compliment the action. What met his gaze was no maiden, but the most beautiful young man he'd been blessed to witness.
He was gifted a smile and a sashay, and the dancer continued in earnest.
A glance and he found his partner on the oud, granting him a smile of appreciation. The oud player nodded to the empty place beside him on the rug, and Roy joined him, not missing a beat.
At closer inspection, he could see similarities between the musician and the dancer. Blood siblings? Had to be. He settled into place and watched the dancer raise his arms high, hips working to Roy's fingers.
The dancer eyed him, a challenge shining forth. Roy smirked and heard the oud player sigh. He spared the dancer's sibling a look before increasing the tempo.
A laugh fell from the dancer's lips, hips trilling with the new patterns. The man's torso undulated like a snake, and the ornaments jingled with each shake and step.
The light layers of silks and fine lace left nothing to the imagination. Alluring and coy, the dancer kicked and arched, a physical display of the sound that cradled his body. A flame would flicker and be snuffed out, and water could never hope to move so smoothly. This dancer put the very forces of nature to shame!
Roy's fingertips rolled over the drumhead, and the golden haired dancer's pelvis quivered with the successive strikes. The skirts fluffed about his legs and dangled just out of arm's reach. The dancer's body was lithe, not an ounce of fat to be found, and every limb was firm with toned muscles pressing out from within.
The final cadence lifted from the strings, and Roy pushed the dancer to the climax with the barest snap of his fingers. The last chord struck, and he gave one last beat. The dancer froze.
The air went still. The thrums of the city were silent for that one extended second, and Roy saw that every eye was fixed on the golden dancer who had yet to relax.
The softest gasp, and time moved forward again. The crowd continued its din, passing as it had before. The dancer curtsied, then turned to his brother with eyes gone bright.
The dancer stood before Roy but didn't acknowledge him. "Well, Al?"
"Only because this man joined us," Al the oud player smiled.
"But I wasn't wrong."
"I suppose."
"So, would you just admit it's a good idea?"
Roy didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't about to interrupt.
Al rubbed his neck, "I just don't want to lose you, too."
"It'll be fine! And, after all, we now have our own drummer."
Roy looked up, and the dancer beamed at him.
"You'll help, right?"
"Ed! We don't even know him!" Al objected.
Ed dismissed it with a wave of his hand and bent at the waist to be at eye level with Roy. "You will, won't you?"
Roy didn't know what he was getting himself into, but he couldn't say no to this man. He was under a trance. He had to be. He'd never felt his heart race like this before. The tingling in his spine vibrated through every nerve, and his chin dipped in a nod.
Ed grinned, pink lips stretched over straight white teeth. Roy leaned forward, but Ed was already rising. What had he been trying to do just there? And more importantly, what had he just agreed to do?
"See, Al?" Ed shrugged. "It's all going to work out."
"Uh-huh," Al frowned. "What's his name, then?"
Ed considered Roy again. "Hey," he simpered, "what can I call you?"
"Your slave" sat thick on his tongue, but he finally wrangled his mind back under some semblance of decency. "Roy," he answered.
"An accent?" He watched Ed's eyes twinkle. "So you're foreign." Ed swayed back toward him, lids hooded.
"I didn't think I had one," he admitted.
"Oh, it's feint, but," Ed knelt before him on the rug, "it adds an edge to your voice that I can admire." It was as if the man couldn't stop writhing.
The dancer was practically on top of him, or so it seemed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Al smirking and shaking his head. He turned his full attention back to the oud player's temptress of a sibling.
He really should have been more immune to Ed's advances. His aunt would have clapped him for getting so weak in the knees for a pretty face. She'd trained him the same as she trained his sisters, after all, but this was different. He'd never been so absorbed by another human being in all his life.
He gasped when Ed cupped his cheek. "And your eyes are so blue! I've never seen any so rich before."
It took every effort to calm the thrumming of his heart. "Just what is it that I have agreed to do for you?"
Ed flashed a pair of dimples at him. "We have a sister, you see. And she caught the eye of a lord we dislike. We simply wish to distract the lord long enough to get her back."
That was dangerous. "She must be under dire straights for you to go to such lengths."
"Oh, have no doubt, Roy." Ed's nails trailed over his ear and carded through the short black hair at the base of his skull. "I say sister, but really it is only that we've known her for so long. Al and she were to marry, and I live and breathe to see them happy."
"A noble endeavor, then." He ached to run his hands over the bare skin glowing within his reach. "And how am I to aid in the rescue of your brother's betrothed?"
"Why, Roy, that's simple." Ed leaned in, lips a mere breath away from his own, "I want you to make me dance."
