Commandment by Daryl Chestney Read Free Book Online Page B

confederate…I mean confidant, Demetrius,” the guide introduced his reclining senior.
    “A pleasure,” Lakif mumbled.
    “What brings you to our doorstep, lad?” Lysander asked.
    Lad! The two men thought Lakif was a male! It wasn’t the first time she was addressed as a male, for Humans struggled with this distinction in Acaanans. Then again, she remembered how difficult it was for her to dissect men from women in Dantillion’s Wares.
    “I was looking for a tavern to slake my thirst,” Lakif stated, justifying her intrusion.
    “That we have a plenty. Drink! Drink!” Demetrius rang a delicate hand bell. He then turned to face the back of the hall. Strangely, the object of his attention was a tapestry. Like all the others, it depicted an image. But this one illustrated an adolescent who was nude except for a fig leaf covering his genitalia. A moment later, the tapestry parted and a prepubescent boy emerged from behind. The kid faithfully followed the chiming bell to their table.
    The lad was similarly dressed in a toga. But his was as thin as a napkin. The flimsy garment was too small for his frame, shamelessly revealing far too much of his slender, glabrous body. Seeing the meek lad quaking before the two elders forced the Acaanan to conclude that their warm greeting concealed ulterior motives.
    As Lysander ordered drinks from the boy, Lakif cast the older gentleman a brief glance. The manicured milksop was ogling the Acaanan’s lithe frame. Lakif now regretted discarding her cloak. Unfortunately, her shirt wasn’t so damp that it would betray her feminine curves. She wrestled with revealing to the two her actual makeup, but wasn’t sure how they would react to the news. They could equally embrace it or exile her from the hall.
    “Your shirt is damp,” Demetrius’ crenellated fingers stroked Lakif’s arm. He gestured to a low brazier nearby. “Let it dry before the fire, lest you catch pneumonia.”
    While the brazier would indeed dry out her damp shirt, Lakif dithered. Removing any extra garments in the present company would, without a doubt, elicit an unwanted response.
    “No, thank you. I shall not be here long.” Lakif cringed before the pervert’s ogle.
    In response, Demetrius grunted and shrugged his shoulders, as if Lakif had forfeited a prize. But the creepy crony nonetheless inched closer to the Acaanan. At this point, the waiter skipped off to fetch their order.
    “What is this place?” Lakif fidgeted away from the senior’s probing fingers. She was all too eager to steer the conversation toward platonic topics.
    “The Titan’s Toe Tabernacle,” Lysander boasted.
    “What’s your name, boy?” Demetrius demanded with an arched brow. It rose so high that it disappeared under his false hairline.
    “Lakif.”
    “Pardon?” He steered the ear trumpet toward the Acaanan.
    “LAKIF,” she echoed.
    “And no other!” Lysander hooted.
    “What an excellent name!” Demetrius gushed, wringing his hands. Lakif noted that the senior had a single golden tooth stationed in front. This alone spoke volumes of the local neighborhood. Where Lakif had grown up, a golden tooth would be a fleeting treasure, surely to be knocked out by a hopeful in a brawl.
    “Yes, a most appropriate name!” Lysander reassured her with a friendly pat on her shoulder, one that ended in a sly rub.
    “By the way…I’m a girl.” Lakif hesitantly informed them.
    “Of course you are!” Demetrius gushed. “That’s our delight!”
    Lakif now knew they viewed her much like the waiter. Even Acaanan males were slim and often girly.
    “You claim this to be a tavern?” Lakif inched along the sofa but was walled in by Lysander on her other flank. She was uncomfortably sandwiched between the two. Should she sidle away from the Scylla of one, she strayed dangerously near the Charybdis of the other.
    “A
tabernacle
,” Lysander corrected her with a swaying finger, as if chiding a pupil’s misunderstanding.
    “I see.”