24. Lukas
24
LUKAS
T he room through the doors is well-appointed. There are masked men everywhere, some extremely finely dressed. Many wear the simple strip masks Lukas has, but others wear more finely decorated ones to match their clothing. As Lukas walks over to an empty table a tall, dark-haired man gives him a knowing nod, clearly recognising him despite the Underground’s pretence at anonymity. Lukas nods back. The man’s features are sharp and distinctive, even with the mask. But it’s a moment before he realises this man has bought him from this very room before, on one of the occasions he graced that auction block.
He’s not an unpleasant man, that one. But Lukas knows that some of the men in this room are. Many of them are sadistic and cruel. The Underground of the Exiled Emperor thrives on a simple principle, the same principle that runs Lunatum. A man with enough coin gets what they want. Whatever they want.
He had only sold himself here when desperate. It was a quick way to earn. Rather than working the tables upstairs and taking half a dozen men into the pillow rooms, the auction meant many times more than a whole night’s money in one quick hit. Lukas had done it twice. The first time had been simple. The man he nodded to on his way in had simply wanted a night of pleasure, enjoying the delights of an evening in the Underground with Lukas on his arm or on his knees.
The second time, however, had been enough to make him swear that he would never sell himself that way again. It is a terrible thing to have one’s body owned by another.
On the stage right now is a man in a tiny hip cloth. He has long sandy hair and a nice smile. His upper body is attractive. Lukas assesses him. He thinks the price for this man could go quite high. The auctioneer — who wears his own, distinctive gold eyemask — is a slender man with an oiled moustache, controlling the room with an easy grace. Lukas recognises him as Oza. He’s been doing this job as long as Lukas knows.
Oza acknowledges someone across the room bidding six dal for the man on the stage. Someone else raises to seven and a half.
The man goes for eleven and a half a few moments later, bowing sweetly and climbing down from the stage to drape himself on the lap of his new owner. The winning bidder gives him a hard slap to the face and shoves him onto the floor, indicating he should kneel and start cock warming.
The man obeys, but Lukas sees his expression of hurt and shame before he goes to work.
Lukas takes a breath. That seems typical. And as he looks away and back to the stage, out comes Elric. He’s also in nothing more than a hip cloth, His pale skin looks ridiculously pretty, like so much sweet cream. His hair glitters in the candlelight. The auctioneer pulls him close with a hand around his waist and turns him, showing off his body. Lukas feels himself bristle to see Elric handled by someone else.
The auctioneer strokes Elric’s back, “And interesting specimen here,” he says. “Look at this skin. How perfectly this back would take marks.”
Lukas sees Elric give a little gasp.
And clearly, Oza notices too. “Oh,” he says, “I think we have a fan of rough treatment, here. Have we got any sadistic luxorites in the room for this sweet piggy?”
There is no doubt Oza is good at his job, selling what he is given to sell, but Lukas feels sick. From one corner a cheer goes up. Lukas joins the rest of the room in looking over. At a couple of tables towards the back are around ten men. Big and muscular in sleeveless black leather jerkins. Eerie looking in their black masks. Lukas knows Imperial soldiers when he sees them. He feels his breath speed up. Zai knows what those assholes would do to Elric, given free rein with his body until cockcrow.
“Where are you from, sweetheart?” says the auctioneer.
Elric says something. It can’t be heard.
Someone from the table of soldiers shouts, “Speak up, bitch.”
The auctioneer smiles to them and says, “You haven’t bought him yet, Sire. Have patience. He says he’s from Fanost.” He turns back to Elric. “And how old are you?”
“I have seen 26 summers, Sire,” Elric says, this time loud enough to be heard. “And I love our great Imperial army.” He blows a kiss to the table of soldiers, who cheer in response.
Lukas’s heart sinks. Zai’s dick, the stupid slut doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. Ten soldiers. In Lunatum. They will not treat him like a Rose Palace concubine. He looks again. Elric’s eyes are slightly unfocused. As he is instructed to walk around the stage and display himself his legs seem wobbly. He finishes with his back to the audience, bending over in the tiny hip cloth. The crowds cheer.
Lukas knows they often give the whores something before they take to the stage. Love cake. A sweet lozenge to make them pliable and wanton. Soft and defenceless. He shudders, remembering his own time on the block, as much as he is fearing for Elric.
The bidding begins a moment later. As Lukas expected, the soldiers lead the action. The group, merry on ale, even bids against itself once or twice. Within a few moments, the price has raced up to thirteen dal and Elric is beaming and preening at the crowd.
Oza is about to close the sale when Lukas stands up. “I wish to bid,” he says.
Elric gasps out, looking at Lukas with his mouth a little open, clearly, he can recognise Lukas in the black fabric mask. He takes a step back behind Oza as if he is scared that Lukas will rush up on stage and hit him.
The auctioneer looks down from the stage. He also recognises Lukas. “If it isn’t our old friend,” he says, his cheery voice has an edge of ice. “Fancy. Lucky. You’ve come back to us. I’m sure there are a few people who would be delighted to see one of our most intriguing whores up on this stage again.”
Lukas swallows. Oza has just announced who he is to the entire room.
But he needs to get Elric out of here. Somehow.
“I’m not here to sell,” Lukas says to Oza. He doesn’t look at Elric. “I’m here to buy. I want to buy him.”
“You want to buy this beauty?” says the auctioneer with a lascivious smile at Elric. “He is commanding a high price tonight.” Oza looks at Lukas a little more shrewdly. “I’ll need at least fourteen for him. You won’t mind if I ask to see your coin?”
Lukas feels his heart flip. Of course, Oza knows him only as the penniless sly whore Lucky. He would not expect him to have more than a single dal to spare and he’s right. He walks over to the stage, winding his way through the tables. There are Imperial soldiers in this room, are there enforcers too? Is there anyone who would have connected the auctioneer declaring him as Lucky to the wanted whore, rumoured to be in Lunatum today? Quite possibly. He hopes no one here would risk breaching the protocol of the Exiled Emperor and trying to seize him, realising he is worth more delivered to the enforcers than all the whores that have graced the stage so far. As he reaches Oza, he says, “I have no coin. But I can pay. I have this.” He only has one thing of value. The only thing he never sold. He pulls the chain from around his neck, his mother’s mirror slides out of his shirt. He unloops the chain, a little awkward one-handed and hands it to Oza.
Oza turns it over in his gloved palm. He looks back at Lukas. “This? Is this all you have?”
“It’s worth fifteen dal,” Lukas says. “It’s silver.”
“Are you sure? This looks like a market trinket to me.”
“It’s worth fifteen dal,” Lukas says through tight teeth. “Give me the whore.”
“This, Lucky,” says Oza in a low tone, “is not silver. It’s mostly tin. It’s worth no more than two dal. Now, please, sit down and let me continue my business.” He drops the mirror into Lukas’s open palm.
Lukas looks at Oza. But Oza only stares back at him.
The whole room is waiting. Lukas’s mind races. What else can he do? If he sold himself, he might make enough money to buy Elric, but he might not. And if he did that he’d be bound to his buyer until long after Trysta’s ship had sailed.
He can only think of one thing he can do. He turns to the audience and uses his hand to awkwardly pull off his mask. “Gentlemen,” he announces. “Some of you may know me as the sly whore, Lucky. But that is not who I truly am. I am…” he swallows. His voice sounds strange. Can he really do this? What else can he do? He inhales hard and speaks more loudly, “I am Lukas Darekul. You know that name, I am sure. Bastard Prince and Rebel against the Empire. The second son of Prince Rafus, Crown Prince of Azuria.” The whole room begins to gasp and mutter. Do they believe him? He can tell the table of soldiers have gone tense at the mention of him being a rebel. “This mirror,” Lukas announces, holding it aloft, “belonged to my mother. A gift to her from my royal father. With that legacy, it is beyond price.”
Behind Lukas, Oza says, “Lucky, please, this is not the place to spin a story.”
Lukas turns to him. “Look at my eyes,” he says to Oza more quietly. “You can see I bear the silver marks of the Darek family. You know what this is worth if my story is true. What I am worth. Give me the whore for the mirror. I will see you repaid in triple.”
Oza looks irritated by this. He matches Lukas’s low tone as he hisses back “You have some silver in your eyes, Lucky. I have seen it before. But it does not prove anything. And without proof of this item’s pedigree, it remains a trinket. It has no real value.” Lukas watches, stunned, as Oza raises his voice to speak to the wider audience. All listening intently, rapt for whatever is coming next. “My apologies for the interruption my fine gentlemen,” says Oza. “Our old friend Lucky seems to be spinning some tales to increase his value when he next graces our stage.” Oza pauses. A few people in the room chuckle. Someone says something about a whore thinking he’s a prince.
Lukas stands where he is, stunned. He’s offered everything for the Lordling. The things he never tried to trade when he was in Lunatum. Not only his mirror but his name. He’d offered his name, the truth of who he was…
And they hadn’t believed him. He’d always thought that if he ever truly needed it he could use his name. But he’s been an outlaw too long. He has truly left his name behind.
He is no prince.
Oza calms the room with a hand gesture. He flashes a glare at Lukas and clears his throat. “So,” he announces. “Am I hearing any more than thirteen dal?” He pauses. “No. Then this beauty is sold to the men?—”
“Wait!”
Lukas isn’t sure who has spoken. A new voice, sharply commanding, cutting through the room. He scans the masked buyers. A tall man with a long braid of silvery white hair is weaving his way to the front of the room. Lukas looks him up and down. He has a dagger in a harness on his thigh. The handle of a short whip protrudes from one of his boots. Lukas shudders. He knows the type. This does not look like a man who will be any kinder to a whore than a table of soldiers.
“Yes,” Oza says, “do you have a bid?”
“I do,” says the white-haired man, arriving at the front of the room. “I bid twenty dal for this creature on the stage.”
The room seems to hold its breath. This is a wild bid. Far more than the current price. Oza looks to the table of soldiers. “Very well,” he says cheerfully. “Can you match that, gentlemen?”
He must get some kind of negative sign because he turns back to the white-haired man. “Twenty dal,” Oza says. “Then this delightful creature is sold to Master…” he pauses.
“Perl,” says the white-haired man. “Just Perl, if you please.”
“To Perl,” says Oza, who turns and murmurs something to Elric. Elric nods and steps down from the stage. He passes Lukas — who is still standing, unmasked, at the front of the room — and makes his way over to Perl. When he reaches the man, Elric seems to realise something, but all he says is, “Oh. It’s you.”
Oza steps back over to the edge of the stage and addresses Lukas, “So, my dear Lucky, are you going to make amends for nearly destroying my best sale of the day by offering yourself for auction? That way I won’t have to bring Roc into this. Perhaps some in this room believed you. Do you want to see how much coin I can persuade these dogs to part with for a Bastard Prince?” He cocks his head. “I must say, it’s not a bad strategy. You could be him.”
Lukas isn’t sure what to do next. He looks at Oza, then over at Elric who is standing beside Perl, staring at Lukas.
Perl reaches out with a long leather clad arm and says, “Oh, I do hope not.” He takes Lukas by the wrist. “I was hoping to invite you to share my prize. If you are still interested, that is.”
Behind Lukas, Oza says, “How generous. It seems you’ll be getting your pleasures, after all, Lucky.”
Lukas looks at Perl. “Come with you, where?”
“Why,” says Perl, “to the pillow rooms. I believe you know the way.”
Lukas looks around the room. Then back to Elric. He came here to get Elric and he has. In a way. Perhaps this is not lost. If he can find a way to lose this silver-haired man in the maze of pillow rooms and take Elric out through the tunnels at the back.
“Very well,” he says. And he leads the way to the back of the room and through a curtained archway.
Through the archway is a wide hallway with more chambers leading from it. Large rooms meant for pleasures, occupied by men drinking and revelling, many of the men are naked or on their way there. Elric, who is being held tight by Perl seems fascinated by each one, peering in through the open doors. He’s still unsteady on his feet and each time he tries to wander into one of the pleasure rooms, Perl tugs him away, muttering something like, “No you don’t, whore. You are bought and paid for.” They walk past these rooms and turn into a narrower passage that has small wooden doors leading off it. Some of them have an X chalked on the door to show they are occupied.
“So,” Lukas says, “what sort of room do you want? One with a bed, or…”
Perl smiles, thin lipped. “Let’s go a little further into this place. I think we can find a chamber that is rather more interesting.”
Lukas looks at him. He still has Elric on his arm, half naked and unsteady. He needs to grab Elric and run? But that plan doesn’t seem so simple now. The man has a dagger and he looks as if he would know how to use it. And if he tried anything and was caught by the bodymen who patrol the Underground? Perl bought Elric. Perl gets to decide. Perhaps it would be best to go along with this man for a little longer.
“Let’s go this way,” says Perl, walking down to the end of the passage where it divides into two. Perl takes the left fork. A few yards along that passage he stops beside a narrow wooden door. “Through here, I think,” he says as he pushes at it.
“Sire,” says Lukas, “I don’t think there are more pillow rooms down that way.”
“No,” says Perl with a tight smile. “There are not.”
Perl leads Elric through the doorway.
Lukas stays where he is. “I’m not… I don’t want to go down there.”
Perl looks at Lukas and rolls his eyes. He shifts Elric’s weight, Elric is leaning hard against Perl’s body. Perl reaches down and pulls the dagger from the harness on his thigh. He places the tip of the blade to Elric’s throat.
Tipsily, Elric says, “Oh. A knife.”
“This way, Lucky,” says Perl firmly. “If you please.”
Lukas frowns. “What is this? Are you working for the enforcers? Do you want the five hundred dal?”
“I promise you I do not,” says Perl. “Now, you will come this way, if you want safe return of this creature of yours.” And Lukas knows exactly where they are going. This is the way to his old chamber under the luxoli house.
The place he hid the Blue Blade.
A few more turns down narrow passages and they reach a familiar door. Perl pushes it open and shoves Elric inside in front of him. Lukas hesitates on the threshold, but he’s come this far.
He steps inside the room. The sight of it almost knocks all the breath from his body. His old chamber. It’s dark inside but it looks mostly untouched. He lights the candle on the table with his flint.
The single flickering flame illuminates the tiny windowless chamber. His old belongings. The things he’d left behind. On the walls and a small table are sketches. Drawings of the Rose Palace, maps and floorplans recreated from memory. Plans of the tunnels. His old mission. Death to Emperor Selim. There’s a straw mattress on the floor and a chest of drawers. A cup, a spare shirt, he hadn’t owned much.
Elric stands in the middle of the room in Perl’s arms. Perl looks around.
“Where…?” says Elric dreamily. He looks dazed. He is definitely drugged. He looks from Lukas to Perl. He smiles like he has no idea what is happening and says, “Is this a pillow room? Do you wish me to take both of you? I’m sure I can. One in each hole, I suppose.” His voice is a soft sing-song.
Perl looks at Lukas. “Put him on the bed before he falls down.”
Not knowing what else to do, Lukas obeys. He puts a hand on Elric’s bare waist and leads him over to the mattress, guiding him to sit. As he does, Elric tries to drag Lukas down into a kiss. Lukas pulls back. Elric says, “You came to rescue me. Bastard Prince.”
“What have you done to him?” Lukas says.
“Me?” says Perl, who is standing by the table, leafing through Lukas’s papers. “Oh, nothing. I believe they will have given him a love cake before the auction. But you should know about that. You’ve whored yourself enough times.”
“What is this?” Lukas says speaking more sharply now Elric doesn’t have a blade at his throat. Lukas can see no reason not to open the guts of this creature called Perl with his hook. “Are you an enforcer? If you mean to arrest me I am sure there are easier ways.” he nods to the table. “But I suppose you have plenty of evidence there. Enough to have me cut to pieces.”
Perl turns. He waves a hand over the table. “This is meaningless. This is not your path.”
Behind Lukas, Elric moans. It’s barely coherent. Something about a Bastard Prince. Lukas finds himself shuddering to think of Elric being delivered to that table of Imperial soldiers in this state. He supposes he owes this infuriating man something.
Perl leans back against the table covered in treasonous plans and says. “Earlier today, I believe, you met a friend of your brother. I am also a friend of your brother.”
“You’re a friend of Damon’s? Damon sent you?”
Behind him, Elric says dreamily, “Damon Darekul. The most beautiful man in the Rose Palace. Don’t be jealous, Silverhand, but I used to beg my father to try and trade me to him, but he always said Damon Darekul would never stoop to such things.”
Lukas rolls his eyes. That is probably true. But he’s more interested in what Perl has to say. Does Perl know Damon? He cannot imagine anyone in the world he would think less likely to be an associate of Damon’s.
But Perl says, “Not that brother. Not Damon.”
Lukas frowns. “Atticul? You were sent by Atticul.? He has not seen Atticul in a long time, but this too seems extremely unlikely.
“Atticul, hardly. He is irrelevant. Lukas Darekul, I lured you down here, with no small effort, because I need you to retrieve the Blue Blade. It’s here, isn’t it? You hid it in this room.”
“I never told anyone where I hid the Blue Blade.” But of course, that’s not true. He turns to look at Elric, but he doubts he will get any sense out of him. “Did he tell you?” Lukas says, looking back at Perl.
Perl flicks a hand in the air as if batting this idea away. “No. But it helped that he knew. It made it easier. So now, I need you to retrieve that blade and in return, you can have your whore. Does that sound like an acceptable arrangement?”
Lukas frowns. “You want the Blue Blade for Elric?” He wants to protest. The Blue Blade is worth forty dal. But he knows he won’t. He would have traded anything to get Elric out of that auction room. He would have traded the Blue Blade if he’d had it.
“I do not want the blade. I want you to retrieve the blade,” says Perl as if he is quite irritated by how long this is taking. “It is yours and you need to have it. Take the blade from its hiding place so that when you are reunited with your brother Damon, you have it. You will need it.”
“I will need it? What would I need it for? I do not have a sword hand.”
Perl makes the same annoyed gesture, batting this away. “That will not matter. Take the blade to Damon and begin your preparations. You are all needed. All of you. Damon, Lukas, Tobi, Kerik, Jemel?—”
“Wait,” Lukas holds up a hand. His head is spinning. “Wait. What do you mean? What are you talking about? Kerik? Kerik is dead. And who is Jemel? Do you mean Atticul?”
“I do not. Atticul is not part of this. But you are, Lukas Darekul. You must be ready. All of you together. Five brothers.”
“Five brothers,” Elric says, sitting up from the bed. His voice is a little clearer “Like the tale you told me.”
“Indeed,” says Perl. “Sadly for all of us, Ur-Durik rises. One of your brothers will meet him soon. In the Amber Forest. But it will take all of you to defeat him. All of Azuria, all of the world depends on it. That is why I have brought you here.”
“He is one of the five brothers.” Elric gasps from the bed. “And he will defeat Ur-Durik. Perl told me Ur-Durik rises.”
“And you are telling me I am going to slay this demon with the Blue Blade?”
Perl nods. “You will be part of it, yes.”
Lukas sighs. “What sort of mummers’ farce is this? I will be slaying no demon. I have already told you I have no sword hand.”
“And I have told you that matters not. But you do not need to believe me. Luckily for us both and our desires to someday leave this horrible little chamber. My offer is simple. Extract that blade from its hiding place and in return I will give you this half-naked whore.” He points at Elric with his dagger. “Is that acceptable? It is quite a simple arrangement, surely.”
Lukas sighs heavily, “Very well.”
“At last,” says Perl
Lukas moves over to a corner of the chamber where an old barrel is covered with a threadbare grey blanket. He heaves it aside. Behind him Perl moves forward, bringing the candle closer as Lukas crouches down and his fingers scrabble in the dirt loosely packed between two of the stones. He grunts and tries to draw one of them out.
It doesn’t move.
He turns to Perl, looking over his shoulder. “Can you come help me? When I did this last, I had two hands.”
Perl sets his candle down atop the barrel and comes closer. He bends and inspects the loose stones. He grasps the one Lukas was trying to move with his elegant long fingers and pulls. He makes a soft grunting noise, but after a moment’s tugging, it shifts, sliding out of its place, revealing a dark hole behind. Perl stands and steps aside, gesturing for Lukas to take his place. Lukas swallows and pushes his hand inside the hole. It’s there. As soon as his fingertips brush metal, the world seems to tip. It feels deeply, sickeningly right to touch the Blue Blade. He draws it out.
The sight of it, in the candlelight, takes his breath. A beautifully made long sword with a blade that seems to glow slightly blue.
The Blue Blade.
The sword he lost his hand for.
Lukas gets to his feet and brushes the debris from his knees.
Perl is watching him with his eyes narrowed. “Congratulations,” he flicks a hand towards Elric. “The creature is yours. I’d fuck him right away if you want to get him out of here surreptitiously. The love cake’s effects grow stronger over time. He’ll only whine like a bitch if you do not.”
Lukas looks from Elric to Perl. he shakes his head. “I will have to risk it. We cannot stay here. It is not safe. People saw me. Oza named me Lucky. I declared who I was. Word will reach the enforcers.”
Perl turns beside the chamber door. “I can make sure your display in the auction room is not remembered. You will be safe here. For a time.”
It is clear to Lukas what he means. It surprises him not at all that this man can do magic. Lukas wonders, for a moment, exactly what he is . For all his talk of demons, could he be one?
Lukas says, “Protection too? You are very generous with your magic and your coin. Are you sure all you wish me to do is take the blade to Damon?”
“Did I not explain it clearly?”
“But how do you know I will meet Trysta and go to that ship?”
Perl looks slightly amused, “Since you heard that your brother may be on a ship just beyond Lunatum docks, have you considered not going there, even for a moment?”
Before Lukas can reply, Perl is gone.