Chapter 1

Kalan checked his map again, like he'd done practically every five minutes since they'd started traveling in the carriage, hired from the small fishing village of Kyu.

"Nervous?" the silvery, musical lilt of his superior's voice broke his concentration.

This was a far cry from being on that boat for two weeks; now they were in close confines. Damned right, I'm nervous, Kalan thought. He'd heard the stories about how Sergeant Moyo conducted these diplomatic missions. The young, effeminate man had quite a reputation for taking along even younger trainees--and not for their political knowledge; his love for the company of young males was well-known throughout the Mahazni court. Well, he's not catching me with my back turned, that's for damned sure! Kalan thought defiantly, but he simply agreed, "This is my first assignment, you know."

"I know," Moyo said almost smugly.

Cocky bastard, Kalan thought in irritation. So what if you've been doing this for a little longer than I have? You were new once, too. And you can shove all your fancy commendation medals right up your--

"You're nervous--I can tell. You've checked that map a dozen times in the past ten minutes. Relax. We've still got a ways to go."

"Yes, Sergeant." Kalan quickly folded his map and put it away into the satchel of files he carried protectively at all times.

"There's no need for formalities, Kalan," the sergeant said smoothly. "We're not to Saderia yet."

"All the same, Sergeant, I prefer to abide by regulations. Sergeant."

Moyo sighed. "As you wish...Corporal."

At least that's settled, Kalan sighed to himself. I don't want him getting...friendly with me or anything.

"This is your first time to the Sades, isn't it?"

Oops. Spoke too soon... "Yes, Sergeant."

Moyo nodded. "It's very different from the city, Corporal Reed. There are no tall buildings and dirty streets in the capital of the Sades Peninsula. The forest people are very wary of strangers, even in Saderia. Did you memorize the greeting?"

"Um, yes, Sergeant, I think so..." Kalan muttered.

"So...? Let me hear it."

Kalan cleared his throat. "Kaliga mitaniskus...?"

"Kaliga mitanistus, but close. I think it'll pass."

"I want to get it right. Kaliga mitanis...tus... What does that mean, Sergeant, anyway?"

Moyo smiled. "Something like, 'Good day,' would be a fair translation. Kaliga mitanistus... Literally, it means 'a rainless day'." The sergeant smiled, his gaze distant. "Maybe you can practice a little more before we arrive. There's plenty of time, and, besides..." Moyo settled back against the side of the carriage, one leg propped up on the bench in a sensual pose, "I like the sound of your voice."

Kalan gulped. "I'm a little tired, Sergeant..."

"As am I. Then let's rest, shall we?" With that, the beautiful man let his lovely lashes flutter closed, and he stayed motionless for so long that Kalan decided he was asleep, and it would be safe to take a nap, himself. No sense in showing up for his first diplomatic meeting all rumpled, right?

It was nearly nightfall when they finally reached their destination. The carriage gave a rough shake, jolting Kalan to wakefulness. The sergeant was already sitting up, his coat looking freshly-pressed, even now, and his luxuriant blonde hair in perfect array. Scowling, Kalan tried to straighten his own jacket, and ran a hand through his tangled shoulder-length dark hair. The sergeant turned to look at him, his eyes raking over Kalan's dishevelment almost with delight.

The carriage finally stopped. The driver climbed down from his seat, and walked over to open the door for the two men. Sergeant Moyo gestured regally for Kalan to exit first, and the boy did so with slight reluctance. He didn't want to be the first to greet the strange people of the Sades Peninsula. But he was surprised to see that there was no one to meet them. In fact, they weren't within sight of civilization, but rather standing on a dirt path with nothing but forest on either side of them.

"Hey! You can't leave us here!" Kalan screamed at the driver, whom they'd hired along with the carriage back in Kyu. The driver completely ignored them and jumped back into his place, giving a shake on the reins to make the animals get going. "Shit!" Kalan cursed aloud, and started after the carriage.

Sergeant Moyo reached out an elegant hand to easily stop the boy. "We're here," he said simply, not looking at Kalan. He let go, and headed straight into the woods.

"What?!" Kalan couldn't help but lose his military bearing for just a moment. "What do you mean, 'we're here'? We're in the middle of nowhere!"

"Of course," Moyo said coolly. "What did you expect? I told you there were no buildings on the peninsula."

"No, you said there were no big cities with tall buildings on the peninsula," Kalan corrected. "This is ridiculous! You're not going in there--?"

"Yes, I am, and if you don't hurry, I'll leave you behind." The sergeant's tone was commanding, in control.

Kalan had no choice but to obey. But he wasn't happy about their situation. "What about our luggage?"

"What did you have in those bags? Nothing sentimental, I hope."

"No... Just my clothes, but--"

"Then you won't miss them much. Ah! Look! Here we are already."

They hadn't gone far out of sight of the road when Kalan saw a bright patch of light in the woods, down the hill. "What...what is that?" he breathed. It looked like the forest was on fire.

"That," Moyo smiled pensively, "is Saderia." He started down the hill.

"...Gods..." Kalan breathed. What awaited them over the hillside, in the burning woods?

They were halfway to the lit patch of forest when Kalan detected the faint sounds of... "Music?"

Moyo nodded. "They're celebrating," he said.

Kalan squinted at him as they quickened their pace. "Celebrating what?" he demanded. "These people are about to enter into a senseless war. What could they possibly be celebrating?"

"Nightfall," the sergeant answered simply.

Kalan looked about. "Yes, it's about dark now. So? What are they celebrating?"

Moyo sighed in exasperation, pulling Kalan into his arms.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're--?"

Sergeant Moyo roughly turned Kalan around to face back the way they'd come, towards the sunset, over the hill. "That's what they're celebrating."

Kalan stood thunderstruck. The sky behind them had been transformed with the setting of the sun, into a sea of deep cerulean. The three moons were all visible: one white, one golden, and one palest green. The green moon had never been visible back home. Why now? "Is this some kind of rare...astrological phenomenon?" Kalan breathed.

Moyo shook his head slowly, his long blonde bangs blowing gently around his face in the cool evening breeze. "You can always see all three from the peninsula. The Sade believe their land is magical. They celebrate each nightfall like the first...or the last." He laughed out loud, turning back to the path. "They are very wise."

Soon they were at the gates of the city, and Kalan was amazed to find that there were no gates, really. The city was like a fort made of trees. Not the wood, but the actual trees themselves grew so close together, the space between them was airtight. There was an opening between two massive oaks, and a single guard stood at the post.

Kalan wrinkled his nose in distaste, the distinct scent of some honeyed alcohol evident on the guard. He was ready, however, to speak the password that would gain them entry. Kaliga mitanistus, kaliga mitanistus, kaliga mitanistus...

Moyo didn't greet the guard in that manner, however. He just gave a curt nod as he passed his papers to the drunken man. The guard didn't even examine the documents; he flipped to the back of the scrolls, checked for the Queen's seal, and handed them back to the sergeant. Sergeant Moyo accepted the papers with a softly spoken "Da'alka," and motioned for Kalan to follow him into the light.

"That man was drunk!" Kalan barely controlled his shock as he whispered to the sergeant.

"Ssh!" Moyo hissed. "We're expected, naturally."

"Is that any reason to post a drunkard at the gate?"

Moyo didn't respond. They were being rapidly approached by two strangely-dressed men. "Kaliga mitanistus!" the sergeant said loudly as they drew near. He cast Kalan a meaningful glance, and Kalan repeated the phrase almost perfectly.

"Kaliga mitanistus," each man said in return. "Dan achaiha nod?"

Kalan frowned. He hadn't realized these people could not speak their language. Now what do we do? he worried. His concern was unnecessary; Sergeant Moyo had them covered.

"Danusa Madalinaha Nialla nefriyah."

"Ha, friyah. Seyah." And on that note, the two men walked away, chattering together in their odd, heathen tongue.

Kalan stared after them in wonder. Their clothes were thin, revealing, and made from no material he'd ever seen before. Their hair sparkled with some unknown substance, making their long locks seem to shine as though they were wet. And their skin...it was a golden tan color he'd never seen on any human being, no matter their exposure to the sun.

The corporal turned to the sergeant with an eyebrow raised questioningly. "You speak their language," he said accusingly.

Moyo's lips twisted into a smirk. "Did you think the Sade would actually lower themselves enough to speak in the common tongue?" He gave a short laugh. "You have much to learn, Corporal." His eyes gleamed with some hidden meaning.

Kalan quickly changed the subject. "What did you say to them? What did they want?"

"They wanted to know our business, and I said we were here to meet with Madalin and Niall."

"You...lied to them?" Kalan gasped, keeping his voice conspiratorially low. "Why?"

"I did nothing of the kind," Moyo said in astonishment. "The two Sade representatives we are to meet with are called Madalin and Niall--twins, so they should be easy to spot."

"Oh." Kalan was silent for a moment. "Should we split up or something?"

"What in the world for?"

"To find them faster, maybe?" Kalan said unsurely.

Moyo only laughed. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Corporal."

Kalan was beginning to regret his earlier comment about regulations. He wondered if Moyo was just as irritated when he heard "sergeant" as much as Kalan was when he heard "corporal." Probably not, Kalan thought wryly. I'm sure he loves to point out that he outranks me, even by a little.

"Come on!" Sergeant Moyo said, throwing his arm possessively around Kalan's shoulders. "We'll find them together. Oh, and, Corporal? Let me do the talking, okay?"

"No problem, Sergeant," Kalan growled, wriggling free of the other man's grasp.

Moyo only smiled in that insufferably self-satisfied way he had as he led Kalan into the strange city.

A tour was hardly necessary; there was nothing to see. Literally, Saderia was just a piece of forest enclosed within a forest. The music came from no particular source, as if the city itself was aglow with both that mysterious light and the music. Kalan looked up to see that the faint lights were radiating from odd lamps hung in the tree branches above. The sky was open to them, the three moons directly overhead. People ran around, frolicking and dancing, basking in the moonlight. The adults were all as scantily clad as the guard and the other two men from before, each seeming to glow in the moonlight. Kalan looked down to see if he, too, was sparkling the way the others were, but no such luck. He looked like his normal self, except maybe tinted a little blue from the funny lights. And he could see the sergeant's hair in front of him, and realized that their hair wasn't shimmering like the others' either. He was almost disappointed, but didn't stop to inquire about this new culture. He did find it odd, however, that there were no children playing as well. It was too early to send them all to bed, wasn't it?

"So who are these twins we're looking for?" Kalan asked at length, tired of the silence.

"Madalin and Niall," the sergeant responded, "are the ones in charge of the Sade government, if you call it that."

"What do you mean?"

"The Sade really don't have laws, not in the way you and I think of them. There are certain things that simply aren't done, of course. As I said earlier, the Sade are an ancient, wise race. They have no need of laws; they are literally a higher species."

"They're not human." Kalan was stating a fact, not asking.

"No, they're not," Moyo agreed. "They are, however, just as easily provoked. We are to walk on egg shells here. Make one wrong move, and--" Moyo broke off to slide a slender, long-nailed finger across his throat meaningfully.

Kalan got the point. "If they're so smart," he continued, "why are they about to get themselves into a war, anyway?"

"It's not their fault," Moyo answered. "Well, supposedly. That's part of the reason why we are here in person. Letters take too long getting through customs from this remote place, and besides that, we're here to do a little spy work."

"Oh! Then you don't trust them?"

Moyo shook his head hard, his long blonde ponytail shaking almost violently. "No way. You can't trust these people, Corporal Reed. Please don't forget that, no matter what you see tonight."

Kalan was puzzled by such a warning from his superior, but had no time to ask anything more, because at that moment they were grabbed by a smiling couple and led towards a bonfire in a corner of the forest.

At last they had found the source of the music. There was a strange band of Sade creatures playing the most bizarre kinds of instruments Kalan had ever laid eyes on. He really couldn't see how such things could produce such sultry sounds and enchanting rhythms. There were sticks and twigs and roots, twisted and tied together like guitars; flower stems blown in the mouths of the Sade played like the sweetest of flutes, and the crunching of dried leaves under the feet of the Sade dancers substituted drums. It was all mesmerizing, but they weren't left to linger. The couple eagerly pushed the two diplomats towards a table piled high with various vegetarian dishes where many Sade were happily chowing down. A young Sade girl shyly made room on her bench for Kalan with a sly wink.

Kalan looked to the sergeant for permission.

"Go on," Moyo smiled. "We're going to have to join in the festival before we get down to business, so relax. This could take several days, perhaps even weeks."

Kalan sat down next to the girl and Moyo across from him. "Surely, Sergeant, you jest. We were to gather intelligence and get back to the city as soon as possible, were we not?"

"We were," the sergeant agreed, sampling a piece of fruit. "But you don't understand the Sade. Neither does the General. Not the way I do, at any rate." He seemed to be talking to himself, staring off into the crowd and nodding to the music as he chewed. "Try the ngawar," he said. "It's delicious. Oh, and if the Sade offer you anything to drink, you'd better take it, and at least pretend to enjoy it, understand?"

"...Y-yes, Sergeant."

Moyo had spoken just in time, as two topless women appeared as if from thin air, glasses overflowing with some mud-colored liquid. Kalan smiled brightly and said cheerily, "Thank you, m'lady!"

"Da'alka," Moyo said as he took a long drink. He glared at Kalan over the rim of his cup, silently ordering him to drink.

Kalan gulped. He knew he shouldn't disobey an order, particularly not in this kind of situation, when he was among a strange culture of people so easily offended. So he smiled widely, hoping the drink didn't taste as much like mud as it looked, and took in a whole mouthful, murmuring a loud "Mmm!"

Moyo, having nearly drained his glass, watched attentively as the woman next to him poured it full again. "Da'alka," he said again.

Kalan's companion, eager to outdo her rival, poured Kalan an entire second mug. She smiled at him, smirked at the other girl, then patted Kalan on the head like a child and turned away. The other girl followed, glowering. As soon as they were out of sight, Kalan spit the drink back into his glass.

Moyo laughed, already starting on his second drink. "I'm telling you, you need to relax, boy. We're not likely to get any work done this night."

"I don't drink," Kalan said.

Moyo laughed hardly, seeming to be already intoxicated. "Then it's going to be a long night, my friend. Most of these people just woke up."

"What?" Kalan asked in confusion, nearly shouting over the music, which was quickly increasing in volume.

"They sleep during the day, and party all night!" Sergeant Moyo cried with a huge grin on his face. "Now you see why I love being assigned here!"

"You've been here before, then."

"Lotssa times!" the sergeant slurred. "It getsss better every time!" He took another long drink from his glass, draining it. Then he reached across the table and finished off Kalan's portion in just a few gulps. "It's just Mushroot. Have fun," he smirked, standing.

"Where are you going?!" Kalan cried, alarmed.

"I'm going to dance with that cutie over there," Moyo murmured, looking at Kalan and pointing to the sky.

Kalan frowned. What the hell was he supposed to do now? It wasn't like he could talk to these strange people, and if it was true that they slept during the day and kept night hours, then he was in for a long wait. He glared at the sergeant, almost laughing out loud as he saw the other man walk unsteadily over to a boy and taking him to the bonfire with the other dancing couples. Then he remembered the rumors about the sergeant's questionable sexual orientation, and swallowed hard. Just one more thing to worry about in this frighteningly exotic country.

Nine hours. Kalan hardly knew how he'd accomplished the thing, but he'd killed nine hours. The girl next to him had tried to strike up a conversation some time ago, but given up after discovering he was not the linguist his companion appeared to be. After that, he'd pretended to sip drinks that were constantly being passed his way, surreptitiously tipping the rims to the ground. He was sure there was a puddle growing steadily beneath him, but he didn't bother to look. No one paid him any mind, unless to pour him another Mushroot drink.

Moyo, on the other hand, was living it up. He was the life of the party, sharing at least one dance with just about every boy in the forest. A fight broke out sometime after what Kalan assumed to be midnight, presumably over the next dance with his royal slutness. Kalan was getting quite irritated with the sergeant. They had come to Saderia to work. He could understand following a few local customs--saying a word of greeting and having a drink with the natives--but this drunken reel was preposterous. Kalan had never seen such a display of intoxicated, outrageous near-nudity in all his twenty years. And the sergeant was just like the rest of them, except he wasn't glowing and he was dancing only with members of the same sex. No one seemed to mind it a bit, though. He was one of them. He drank at least a glass--sometimes two--between every dance. His dancing was just as perverted as the others'. Kalan was shocked to find his superior's hands roaming all over the boys' bodies, and no one seemed to find a thing wrong with it.

After a time, Kalan had given up feigning to drink and actually started doing it. The drinks seemed to come less frequently while he sipped slowly instead of pouring the drinks out quickly. After a time, things began to get a little hazy, a bit foggy. The people were glowing more and more brightly, their hair on fire. The music was no longer in harmony, but in complete discord. The last thing Kalan saw before he fell asleep was Sergeant Moyo's beautiful blonde hair streaking past.

Kalan awoke at dawn. The music had ended, and the crowd had dispersed. Someone was shaking him, none too gently. "Stop it!" he growled roughly in protest.

"So he can be a bad boy!" Moyo's tone hit his buzzing ears mockingly. "Snapping at a superior, tsk, tsk!"

Kalan rubbed his eyes, looking up from where his head had become one with the tabletop. "What in the gods' kingdom...?"

"It's time for bed. You're tired, aren't you?"

"There are no beds," Kalan murmured incoherently. "I'm not sleeping under a rock."

Moyo laughed, continuing to chirp away as merrily as he had after his first drink. He led Kalan over to a tree, where the corporal could have sworn had suddenly sprouted a door, and shoved him inside.

Kalan braced himself for a hard fall, but was surprised to find himself landing gently onto a mattress as soft as any field of flowers he'd ever rolled in as a child. There was a light glowing dimly on the wall. What...? Wall?

Inside the tree was a sort of bed, with plenty of room for about three people. Kalan rolled over and over on the silky sheets, amazed at how clean and soft they were. The inside of the tree was like any room he'd been in, not showing bark and crawling with insects as he might have imagined. He was quickly coming out of his stupor, having had only a few drinks, and wrongly decided he must have passed out from exhaustion and not drunkenness.

Moyo collapsed beside him after watching him squirm, and rolled over until he was pressed abruptly against the corporal, who was pressed against the side of the tree trunk.

"What are you doing?" Kalan giggled, finally deciding that the sergeant was completely wasted and wouldn't remember his teasing tone.

The corporal's laugh was cut short, however, by the gentle touch of the sergeant's lips against his own.

"No--" he murmured, trying to pull away, but he had nowhere to go, no room to move.

"Yesss," Moyo moaned, his lips demanding more forcefully now.

Kalan's eyes went wide, he tried to gasp, but found he couldn't breathe. He punched at the sergeant, afraid he would suffocate, but the other man held him tightly and kept on. The corporal could hardly believe that a man so intoxicated could muster so much strength, but he was no match for the older, more experienced man. Moyo kissed Kalan hungrily, his tongue sliding between Kalan's teeth and running along the roof of the younger boy's mouth. Kalan finally figured out that he could breathe through his nose and still have the life sucked out of him by the aggressive older man. He ceased his futile efforts to struggle, but remained as stiff as a board, hoping the sergeant would soon give up the chase and let him get a decent night--er, day--of sleep. He concentrated, instead, on breathing and then let the sensation of the intruding tongue overcome his awareness. He'd never so much as kissed a virgin maiden, let alone a man who was an accomplished lover. The feeling was very new to him, though not entirely unpleasant. Rather than envisioning a fetching, well-endowed young girl, however, Kalan held to the image of Sergeant Moyo as he closed his eyes and succumbed.

Moyo broke the kiss abruptly, and Kalan opened his eyes. The sergeant was looking at him, the familiar smirk back on his not-so-drunk, beautiful face. "Gods be damned, Corporal--you're getting hard!" he said in amazement.

Kalan's eyes widened even more than the sergeant's had as he realized what had transpired in the previous moment. He'd been kissed by Moyo, and rather than resist (after the initial shocked attempt) he'd actually begun to enjoy it--a lot, by the look of things. He blushed hard, no longer able to hold the sergeant's gaze.

Moyo laughed again, this time more of a conceited snort. Then he shoved away from Kalan and laid to rest farther away.

Kalan realized something else, a while later. It was too cold in the corner by himself. He slowly, timidly crawled under the sheets, his body edging as close as possible to the sergeant's without disturbing the sleeping man. He noticed, just before he drifted into a dreamless sleep, that the lamp somehow knew when they were resting, because it turned itself off.